Another set of glass bottles hurtled through the air towards the small group of adventurers, shattering scant inches from their heads on the magical shielding that Aerie had conjured above them, ripples of blue energy flowing across the barrier with each impact. The Avariel mage frowned with each shot- not that maintaining the shield was difficult, small bottles being thrown were somewhat easier to repel than bullets fired out of a sling or dozens of orc arrows raining on them, but the mob was beginning to advance, and keeping out dozens of man-sized bodies could prove... problematic.
Jaheira flinched as another bottle shattered above her, the jagged pieces of glass shimmering briefly in the sunlight before falling harmlessly to the ground. Her spear was raised and at guard position, although the sight of it did not seem to be doing much in terms of intimidation. The mob did not seem to slow or balk at the prospect of her weapon, or in fact, anything the small group was doing. That made them all one of two things- extremely stupid, or extremely fanatical. And while she had no qualms about defending herself with lethal force, slaughtering an entire village, even one full of bigots, wasn't an idea she particularly relished.
Minsc stepped forward with a roar, partially phasing out of the shield that Aerie was maintaining- he brandished the two axes Stonefire and Frostreaver, cutting a thrown rock in half with his extraordinary reflexes and strength. "Do not tempt the wrath of Minsc and Boo! We will not fight you lightly, but no harm shall come to my witch while Minsc yet stands!"
"Death to the drow! Death to the drow and her demon defenders!" an old woman screeched, raising bony fingers before croaking out ancient incantations, a fireball forming at her hand as she hurled it at Minsc- the ranger was taken totally by surprise, nearly immolated by the sudden outburst of magic if Cernd had not grabbed Minsc's waist and yanked him behind the shield Aerie was maintaining. The blue haze rippled under the sudden impact, Aerie stumbling back and dropping to one knee with the surprise attack.
"Still inclined to let these fools live, jaluk?" Viconia spat at Minsc, raising her mace with venom in her eyes. "If they wish to throw their lives away, I shall feel no guilt over ending them."
"There may yet be a way to escape this place without unnecessary bloodshed." Cernd turned his back to the mob, looking at the conflagration of flame that blocked their escape route. "Allow me a few moments and we shall take flight from this place."
The druid raised his arms, chanting loudly as his deep voice bellowed and reverberated through the air- the sun began to fade behind darkening clouds and lightning flashed across the sky, nearly blinding them with the sudden flash across the newly blackened skies. Small drops of rain began showering upon them as Cernd's spell took hold, but the realization of what the adventurers were attempting to do brought the full fury of the mob upon them.
Aerie tried raising her hand to sustain her spell as they pounded and threw their bodies against the barrier spell she was holding, but the strain was too much- it shattered and threw Aerie back to the ground, the mob finally breaking through and swarming them. Minsc's eyes narrowed as Jaheira's brow furrowed- Viconia shouted a battle cry and swung her mace, the head of it slamming into the side of a man that had thrust himself forward, sending gore and blood splattering across the ground.
Battle was joined- a heady rush of reluctance and violence, the thrill and disgust of a battle where one side is completely superior to the other, a slaughter by any standards, and yet those being demolished refuse to yield or run from the battle. Minsc's axes fell again and again, cleaving open bodies and cutting limbs from their hosts as rain and blood soaked the ground beneath them. Cernd's shouts were drowned out by the thunder of battle and the din of metal striking wood and flesh, Jaheira's spear impaling those who got too close while Viconia waded into the fray, actively striking down those who had hunted and captured her previously. Her blows had a hatred behind them that she did not suppress, bridle or hold back.
Aerie's eyes fluttered- why did everything smell like copper? She dug her hands into the ground to push herself upward, fingers digging into the loam and mud below her- the sight of crimson pooling below her drew a gasp from the Avariel as she pushed herself to her feet, face dirtied from her collapse after the shield she'd conjured had broken. She staggered to an upright position, whirling in shock and horror at the sight of her friends slaughtering the unthinking mobs before them- "Stop!"
Aerie had shouted it before she even knew what was happening, magic incantations spilling from her lips as a Hold Spell erupted in the middle of the mob, overcoming the magical defenses of so many, but others continued to fight, trying to push through their companions to reach them. Aerie shook her head, centering herself and reaching deep inside- she drew a fiery circle in the air with her fingers, releasing a Symbol Stun into the midst of them, finally overcoming the remainder of the mob as she collapsed to her knees again, trying to catch her breath as the overwhelming din and rancor around them died away, fading to a stillness that was far too quiet.
"What... what have we done?" Aerie whispered, managing to look up as rain continued to pour down upon them, taking in the sight of so many paralyzed men and women, the bodies of their fellow villagers lying all around them in their own blood.
"We defended ourselves, weakling." Viconia growled, throwing her hood up as she gestured at one of the frozen individuals with her mace. "These foolish rivvin would have killed us all and you weep for them? You are as weak as I imagined."
"Our way of escape is opened to us." Cernd intoned, his back still to the carnage, as he gazed upon the smoldering embers that took the place of the wall of flame that had blocked them earlier. He did not move to face any of them, though he knew- he had to know- the sight that would greet him if he turned around. "We should leave- our true enemies await. Enough blood has tainted the land this day. Amkethran awaits."
X
An ethereal sword sung through the air, leaving mist and unholy light in the air behind it as it struck the stone stair that Greywulf had been standing on a brief moment. The half-elf sorcerer scrambled backwards, dodging one attack after another, the wraiths and specters of Helm's guardians chasing him back toward the Temple podium where they had discovered the book that had summoned these creatures for the first time. Another attack, this one cutting into his grey cloak and leaving a long gash down the center of it. Greywulf spun in place as he continued backpedaling, outstretching both hands as he spoke the words of his weapons.
Blue arcs of lightning brushed from his hands and leapt to the skeletal warriors that trudged towards him, the tendrils of power playing over bone and rusted metal for a time, jumping back and forth across those bony bodies, puncturing and splintering bits and pieces of their form until two of his pursuers collapsed to the ground, unable to sustain their forms with such an outburst of energy.
Across the podium, Nalia and Reynald stood side by side, Anomen behind them with his hands clasped, chanting words of supplication to Helm as he drew on the Holy Might that his god supplied him with, commanding the undead with word and faith alone. In any other occasion or place, the power that Anomen, priest of Helm possessed to turn the undead would have been sufficient to drive their foes back, make the powerful ones flee from his presence whilst the lesser fiends were obliterated completely. It should have worked.
"It's not working!" Reynald cried out, hefting his tower shield to block a hail of blows from a large skeleton warrior, the rusted blade ringing as it ricocheted off, leaving its wielder open to a swift decapitation from the blade Reynald carried. The ex-paladin grunted with effort as he swing his shield around to block another attack, two arrows fired from specters floating in the back, their ghostly projectiles dissipating as they struck against Reynald's defenses.
"These ghosts are the warriors and protectors of Helm- did you truly think that trying to drive them back with the power that sustains them would be enough?" Nalia tossed behind her, taking a step forward as she thrust one hand out, small meteors erupting from the void and circling her like a whirlwind of fiery rock and stone. They paused a moment and then leapt from their orbit, crushing bone and tearing through ghostly flesh as they struck each target Nalia had designated for death. "If we cannot strike down a few specters, then we shall stand no chance against whatever horrors lie beneath this tomb. Take up your weapon, Anomen. These ghosts will respond to force and force alone!"
The squire's eyes blazed open, teeth grit together as he surveyed the array of forces charging them, moving to overrun their position and bring an end to the invasion of Watcher's Keep- Anomen hefted his mace with one hand, bringing it around in a mighty backswing that crushed the rib cage of a skeleton before pushing ahead with his family shield, sending his foe tumbling back down the stairs of the podium.
"You see?" Nalia laughed, magic missiles swarming from her hands to explode against a ghostly wraith that screamed from the far end of the Temple ruin. "Nothing to worry-hugk!"
Two wraiths had risen from the ground behind Nalia, both striking at the same time, their ethereal hands piercing her chest and leaving behind the cold numbness of undead flesh inside.
Nalia sunk to her knees, trying to avoid lapsing into unconsciousness at the ethereal strike- Reynald rushed the two spirits with fury in his eyes, slashing at one of the two, his blade slowing as he swept into the ectoplasm that held their spirits together. "Back to your grave, guardians! Face your final deaths in this sanctified place!"
"This is getting us nowhere." Greywulf shouted, shouting a trigger to the Spell sequencer he'd prepared- Stoneskins and a Haste spell activated around the sorcerer, giving him the unnatural speed to dodge one, two, three sword attacks- two more arrows crashed into his body, dropping the magical stone that encased him. "You read the tome, Anomen! What does it mean?"
"It is- it is a ritual!" Anomen shouted back to Greywulf, holding his shield up to deflect the increasing flurry of blows that was being directed their way. "A book, a candle, and the bell above! They are all connected- simply follow the instruction laid out to us and the way should open for us!"
"*Should* open? I should like to know whether we are risking our life on a gamble or a promise!" Reynald tossed back as he knelt by Nalia's body, shielding both of them with his massive tower shield, as he tried to raise the woman to her feet.
"There's the book-" Greywulf grunted as he spun, both hands erupting with flame as his Burning Hands spell cleared a small circle around him, his Haste spell turning the spin into a miniature whirlwind of flame, "And with any luck, that giant bell hanging up there is the one we're looking for. Any sign of a candle around this place?"
"In a place as large as this? We might as well search for a needle in a haystack." Anomen growled as he parried a sword thrust and shunted into the ground with his mace, rushing forward with his shoulder to knock his opponent over.
"Ughhh..." Nalia moaned, clutching her chest as she regained some semblance of control. She grasped at the tome that she and Reynald had recovered from one of the rooms, letting the time-worn pages flip open until they stopped on a page with arcane drawings of a massive humanoid, covered in runes of control.
Nalia began whispering the summoning words, drawing strength from the book and using the spell as an outlet for her will, her power- the room echoed as a portal opened within the center of the room, a flesh golem stepping out with glowing red eyes and runes covering the construct, tying it's will to that of its summoner. Nalia allowed herself a smile as she saw the construct step into being- she clenched one fist, and whispered a single command. "Kill."
Two skeletons flew across the room and shattered against the wall, sent flying by the power behind the flesh golem's fists. The massive presence of the golem in the midst of the room drew the attention of the undead horde, giving the four adventurers a moment of respite as their attackers shifted their strikes to this new threat, cutting chunks of flesh from its massive body. "Even if we do find the candle, this ritual will take much longer to complete than the guardians will allow us." Anomen grunted, trying to adjust his shoulder pauldron, knocked almost completely out of place from a blow he had taken by a rusted flail.
"Clairvoyance should help locate this particular needle..." Nalia murmured, quickly casting the required spell as her eyes began to glow white- the others took a moment to encircle the vulnerable mage, watching as the flesh golem began to falter under the assault of the undead guardians, even as other undead spirits rose from the coffins and crypts surrounding the room's edges.
"There." Nalia shook off the after-effects of the spell, pointing towards a side storage room on the far end of the Temple hall, back where they had first descended to the main foyer. "It's in a table over there- with a Haste spell one of us can probably get over there to retrieve it-"
"But getting back and fulfilling the ritual requirements might be a bit more difficult. I think our time has just about run out..." Anomen gestured at the mound of undead that had finished tearing apart the flesh golem's body. The glowing light beneath the eyes of the golem began to fade, till it died out completely. "That's it then- lend me your magics, Lady Nalia. I shall go to retrieve the candle- stand firm and tall until I return. May Helm protect us all."
With those words, the cleric was gone from sight in brief moments, his enhanced speed guiding him through the winding paths of enemies, slipping past them and avoiding their attacks with ease. Behind him, the mass of undead began pushing forward, the three defenders finding themselves increasingly out of room to maneuver- Greywulf grabbed the waterskin from his belt and yanked the cork from it, letting water gush from its innards. He hurled it before the undead horde, then shouted toward Nalia, "A Ray of Frost, now!"
She did not hesitate- the water froze on impact with the magic spell, even as Greywulf began repeating the words to another cantrip, summoning bucket after bucket of water, growing the pile of ice that was forming from freezing ray and magical liquid. Within several moments, a large ice barrier blocked off half the podium as Reynald pushed back at the other half, trying to keep their foes out while Nalia and Greywulf encircled their position with the elemental wall.
The protection would not last forever- claws and swords cut large chunks of ice from the wall even as the two mages attempted to rebuild it. A delaying tactic at best, until Anomen arrived with the candle they needed for the ritual. Even then, trying to complete a ritual in the small amount of time left to them before the guardians of Helm overwhelmed their position? It seemed unlikely- they needed more time. More time than they had... an idea formed in Greywulf's mind, although it would be an expenditure of power for him that he had not attempted as of yet. The spell was still new to him, and he had not yet mastered it's functionality... but if he could bend it to his will, just this once, they would have all the time they needed. Or at least, all the time he needed.
Another rush of wind blew from behind them as Anomen's form blurred into view, the squire's rapid footfalls only now echoing past them. He bore several burn marks across his breastplate and one nasty scorch upon his face, but he held in his gauntleted hands a green wax candle, the eye of Helm emblazoned upon it's side. "I bring good tidings, though it would seem our situation has not improved much. They are an endless tide- so long as we intrude on this sacred ground, Helm's power grants them eternal life, raising them again and again no matter how many times we banish their spirits."
"Then we should finish this ritual, and quickly." Greywulf said, closing his eyes as he began chanting. "With any luck, by the time you all realize what I've done here... the ritual will be over."
The protests and confused questions of the others died away in his hearing as Greywulf internalized all his senses, focusing every amount of will he possessed into this one spell- he had heard the tales of those trying to attempt this kind of magic before they were ready. Mages and wizards aging years and years in mere seconds. Some freezing in place, living out their entire lives in slow motion as they were forced to watch the world around them change and shift while they stood watch, simply trying to utter a single word before their loved ones passed from the earth. Others still were sucked deep into the heart of the time-space plane, re-emerging years or decades from the fateful day they attempted a Time Stop spell without the proper training.
His heart slowed, his muscles tensed, and he began the incantations- the world around him felt like sand falling from his fingertips, a shifting mass of slowly moving particles that were there but not quite real, a whisper in the dark that he wasn't quite certain he could hear or touch- and as he spoke the last words, letting all the energy he'd been saving within burst into reality- he opened his eyes, witnessing a gray, washed out world that had ceased all motion. His heart felt as though it would burst from the effort, but his reward was here- several minutes of uninterrupted time where he could act so quickly that time would be still for those around him- the minutes of time he experienced would seem to take place in the span of six simple seconds for the others. And with a Haste spell upon himself... he felt his limbs re-energize, and his body flood with energy. The ritual would be completed... just a little faster than it had probably been intended to be.
X
"Would somebody please explain to me what the hell happened here?" General Jamis Tombelthen shouted, an uncharacteristic outburst for the normally dignified leader of men. He prided himself upon keeping his cool under fire, driving his men forward with a steady hand and a cool head. He'd fought the frost giants when they'd invaded from up north, and orc invasions by the dozen. But there was little for him to grasp onto here, little for him to pull back down to earth and keep the war-fire inside him quelled until the proper time of battle. An entire squadron of his best men, assigned to watch the oasis in case the Bhaalspawn returned... and every one of them was either incapacitated or so out of it that they couldn't get their stories straight.
"Sir... I-uh..." the lieutenant he had left in command stood before him, wringing his hands while rubbing his head, as though he was unsure which hurt worse, the sting of whatever blow that the Bhaalspawn had handed him, or the sting of having to report his failure to a superior. "The Bhaalspawn returned, as you anticipated they might."
"All of them?" Jamis questioned, glaring heavily at the man, daring him to lie or leave out any details of their defeat.
"No, sir. Only the Bhaalspawn and the drow- the other were not with them when they reappeared. I had thought it strange, but our primary targets were there- we dared not let them leave without a confrontation."
"And what exactly happened? I see no blood on the sand, no evidence of a skirmish." Jamis growled, gesturing toward the remains of the encampment. "None of the men I left are dead, and half the men are still incoherent. Those I have questioned already cannot give me a straight answer- whether the Bhaalspawn left to the north, south, east, or west, nobody has an answer that matches the man beside him. And the visions they speak of! Were all your men so overwhelmed by fear that they could not think straight?"
"I... I cannot remember, sir. We confronted the Bhaalspawn when they arrived, I gave the order to attack... then nothing. Just flashes of monsters that make no sense- visions of our foes that seemed larger than life, as though they slaughtered everyone with a glance... but we all yet live, do we not? I am... I am sorry, sir." the lieutenant swallowed, his sandy brown hair sticking to his face with sweat- not simply from the noonday sun but the heat of the General's interrogation.
Jamis' eyes narrowed for a moment- he turned on his heel, gesturing for the man to follow. "We will have you examined by the arch-mages who accompany my division of soldiers. They will try to divine what sort of sorcery has overcome you and your men. After they have finished, consider yourself relieved of command."
The sigh could barely be heard issuing from his subordinate's mouth, but Jamis took note nonetheless. Was it a sigh of disappointment, knowing he had failed his command? Or, as Jamis feared, a sigh of relief, at not having to face the monsters he had seen in his visions? Either way, the General needed a new angle, a new lead to pursue. The Bhaalspawn were on the move, all of them- despite his orders to strike against the wards of Gorion, he knew there existed others as well, those with an overt lust for power, who would not deny the chance to spill the blood of innocents for their common goals. Imoen and Greywulf... would they succumb to that same temptation? It mattered little, he supposed. The royalty of Tethyr had marked them for execution, and he was honor bound to carry out that sentence.
All that remained was finding them- and then keeping them there. He had hoped that perhaps Melissan might have been able to lend a hand in finding a way to nullify the powers that Greywulf had demonstrated- teleportation at will, was it? Surely there was some kind of ritual, some kind of magic that could hold Greywulf to the earthly plane where mortals like himself would stand a chance in battle.
But what if there wasn't? What if all he could muster was a chase across the Realms, never getting too close before having to resume the whole process again and again? The thought was... disheartening, to say the least. No. There had to be a better way. The General glanced back toward his former lieutenant as the archmages worked their magics, digging through his memory to see what had truly transpired here. It would take time- time he could only hope would give him the inspiration to out-think the last of the god-children.
The last of the god-children, was it? No... there were at least two more he knew of. Rumors of a Bhaalspawn dragon to the south, hidden away in craggy mountains and the caverns within. And a shadowy figure in the forest to the east, with armies of dark warriors at her command. That... that might be it. The Bhaalspawn, regardless of intent or guidance, would always, always be drawn to fight one another. Their destiny was to clash until only one remained- Sarevok had taught them that from the beginning. That was their target... one of the remaining Bhaalspawn- and heaven help him, Jamis could only wonder if he stayed out of their war, he might save the lives of his men and others in Faerun- let them fight their own war and mop up the remaining forces with his own?
It would be a good decision, a tactical decision that made sense... but he knew where the other two Bhaalspawn were hiding, or at least their general vicinity. And if he could ambush Greywulf, take him by surprise- no chance for the sorcerer to use his escape route... that might be their only chance. Too good an opportunity to pass up. He nodded, settling the plan in his own mind. To stretch a net so wide, not truly knowing where or when Imoen and Greywulf would show up, might pull his forces thin, but standing around here would accomplish nothing. He was a man of action and preferred to strike his enemy first. He could only hope the same was true of the wards of Gorion.
X
"You are mad, Balthazar. For all your wisdom you lack the most basic sense of tactics and planning." Abazigal sneered, a half growl meant to intimidate, though if Balthazar felt his own confidence falter in the face of this half-dragon, he did not show it. "My beasts could sweep the country, darken the skies and find these last remaining insects with ease. And you say we should remain cooped in my mountain lair? For what possible reason would I agree to that?"
Balthazar's face remained as stoic as ever, although he felt his own humor rise within, the monk doing his utmost to keep a smirk from his face. The remainder of the Five, Abazigal, Sendai and Balthazar, were in chaos- or at least, that was the way it appeared. The death of both Illasera and then the invulnerable Yaga-Shura had given all of them a reason to panic, although none would admit they felt as such.
The half-dragon began another tirade, boasting about his own forces and the strength behind them- truth be told, Balthazar was only half listening. He already knew the taunts, the threats, the feral rage that would issue from this draconic fool. He'd heard it before- in truth, this was going to be much simpler than he had originally intended. Destroying Yaga-Shura would have been the most difficult part of dismantling the Five, but Greywulf and Imoen had taken care of that already. Now? A hot-tempered half-dragon and a venomous drow assassin? They would be easy to manipulate. Easy to twist and turn to his own advantage- "Enough, Abazigal. You would not be so foolish to disregard what you know to be true. Sending your forces out to scour the lands clean will result in every army in the land converging upon us. Tethyr has already sent their forces out to fight- would you risk the armies of the Gate joining as well? Hold your ground, save your strength. Would any man or woman dare to enter your throne with the forces at your command?"
Abazigal growled, teeth bared as his blue eyes flashed with rage... but the monk's words calmed the wrath within. He leaned close, so close that only his eye was visible through the portal Balthazar had summoned. "I will not long suffer your demands and so-called 'wisdom'. The time of ascension is almost upon us, and I will not be left behind. Hide in your monastery- should I discover that you intend to betray me, I will rain such destruction upon your fortress, there will be nowhere to hide."
The monk finally allowed himself to smile, the edges of his mouth curling just slightly upward at the not-so-subtle threat. "I will keep your words in mind, mighty Abazigal." Balthazar intoned, before sliding one leather toed boot through the dust circle that he had drawn on the ground as part of the ritual- as the circle was broken, the magical portal faded from view, removing the two 'allies' from one another's sight.
Balthazar turned on his heel, stalking out of his meditation chambers and back toward the main throne room of sorts he used to judge the matters of law that the people of this city brought to him. Or, at least, the matters they used to bring to him. It had been some time since his monastic order had been seen as the protectors they truly were. Before he had been truly aware of the dangers, before he had known just how much his heritage would cost him as well as those around him, Balthazar had brought peace and order to a wind-swept village. The town of Amkethran had been a lawless place, where every man made his own rules, and might made right.
His arrival, a simple stop on his pilgrimage of self-discovery for a few supplies, some water to keep him alive, had wrought such a change… not only for the city itself, but for Balthazar the man. Here was something he could do with his taint, with the wickedness inside him. He could turn the power of Bhaal on those would prey on the innocent, on those who would abuse the weak. Here was a purpose in life, a reason to exist and an outlet for all the rage and aggression that he… that all the Bhaalspawn, had to feel. The memory of his arrival, of his first attempt at driving out the law-breakers was as fresh in his mind today as it had been those several years back…
A scream echoed through the dust-ridden wind as the large armored man staggered backwards, clutching at his face, blood streaming from in-between his fingers. The bone and flesh of his nose, once protruding rather crookedly, to be fair, was all a jumbled pulp now, courtesy of a lightning quick palm strike that the young monk had landed before his opponent could even think of dodging aside.
"You'll pay for that, runt!" another of the bandits that plagued this small town growled, leveling a sword at Balthazar with a gap-toothed grimace. "Slice this maggot to pieces!"
Balthazar lowered his stance, centering his weight and preparing his mind and body for the oncoming attack- it was a simple meditative state, one he had practiced daily since he chose to become a monk, hoping to find a way to quell the darkness he carried within. For a long time, it had simply been used to ease his transition from earthly concerns and states of mind to that of a higher one, but here, now it was a way to see his attackers, to feel their movements and their strikes before they even made them. Time flowed like sand around him as he let his eyes flutter closed, choosing to rely on the extra senses he'd honed, refusing to be blinded by sight.
Seven uninjured men were surrounding him, three brandishing swords, two with bows and arrows, and another two with battleaxes. All of them were wearing armor, though only the ones with the axes wore anything past studded leather. Several civilians were huddled in the doorways of their mud-brick homes, terrified that they were about to witness one more casualty of the brutes that had taken their town for their own private playground. That… would not be the case.
The one at his front, left side- he was leaning forward, shifting his weight to swing the blade down- there. And behind him as well- a battle axe aimed to cleave his torso in two. Balthazar's body became a whirlwind, letting years of training speak for themselves, expressing words in actions, actions filtered through the taint of Bhaal, souring their notes and making them violent. He twisted violently in midair, letting the feel of air trailing behind the weapons that were aimed at him sweep above and below his torso as he leapt, twisting his body sideways. He snapped both legs up to push off the body of the man coming from behind- the momentum he had gained was considerable, allowing him to leap off fists first, impacting against his front opponent's chest.
A loud crack like a tree trunk snapping echoed through the air- a scream followed close behind, but Balthazar barely heard it. He did, however, feel a sternum cracking beneath his knuckles, splinters of bone hurtling backward and embedding in flesh and muscle and organs. The feel and the knowledge of what he'd just done so effortlessly brought him equal parts disgust and elation- no time. No time to swell on the clashing of his blood's desire and the teachings of his monastic order. The body needed to separate from the mind- he couldn't afford to feel. Only action mattered.
He came up off the dying man's body in a spring, vaulting back toward another man, the mercenary only now bringing his blade to bear, attempting to swat the monk from the sky. The brigand might as well have been standing still, for all the good it would do him. Balthazar's left hand flattened to a palm, immediately shunting the sword aside as he landed while his other hand struck the man's throat, collapsing the windpipe and leaving him to collapse on the ground, asphyxiating quickly.
Two dead, two injured- now came the arrows. Both archers had nocked their missiles and were about to loose them- he took a half-breath, exhaled, and waited. It only took a moment, but there it was. Two arrows coming, one aimed for his head, one for his torso. Both were good shots, each one quite capable of killing him were he to allow it. They would indeed find a target, though. Just not him. Balthazar reached deep inside, finding the ki inside him, channeling it to his hands and reflexes- Balthazar spun in place, both hands darting out to grasp the arrows mid-air, letting his momentum take his entire body in a 180 degree turn before releasing the arrows- both shot from his grasp as time seemed to resume, lodging themselves in the bodies of those archers who had fired them.
The remaining brigands stumbled backwards in awe and dread, their minds slowly comprehending that they had challenged something far greater than themselves. Wiser men would have taken the opportunity to retreat, hoping that their humiliation would be enough and that they might escape with their lives intact. They did not prove to be wiser men. A brief moment to regain their nerve, and then the four remaining bandits charged, weapons already in motion.
Balthazar could barely comprehend what was happening- his reactions to the attacks were all reflex, no mental commands involved. A blade came toward his neck, but was deflected by a palm strike straight upwards that hit the flat of the blade, sending it over the top of his head. He balanced on one foot and kicked straight at the man who had attacked first, sending him flying off balance, into a bramble of cacti, even as his newly horizontal posture dodged the swing of another sword. He whipped his form around to land back on his feet, bringing a fist in a wide loop that slammed the second attacker into the ground with a crack, the impact of fist to neck shattering three of the bandit's vertebrae. The two remaining men, both wielding battleaxes bore down on Balthazar, axes reared back.
Balthazar's palms began quivering, channeling all the energy he kept within- both arms shot like pistons from his side- only now, with his palms sticking through the metal armored chests of his attackers, blood coating his arms up to his elbows, did Balthazar's mind return, conscious thought taking over once again. He pulled both hands from his attackers, their bodies collapsing to the ground as the monk exhaled sharply, struggling with the emotions that were flooding his body.
Six men were dead, one more was lying in a heap of broken cacti, covered in needles that would hurt like hell as soon as he regained consciousness. The last man was lying on the ground in a ball, the whistle of air trying to flow through the shattered cartilage of his nose giving a sickening backdrop to the silence. Balthazar glanced at the crowds who had gathered, watching this stranger fight off the self-proclaimed warlords of the town. Why hadn't they run yet? Surely he was as great a monster as any of the men he had killed. He needed to leave. Needed to get out of this place before he brought more trouble on them-
"Thank you, sir." a young woman approached, bowing low with gratitude... and fear... in her eyes. "Please, what can we do to repay you?"
"I... did not do this for any kind of reward." Balthazar replied slowly, blinking sweat from his eyes, just now feeling how hot the sun bearing down on them truly was. "These men deserved justice. I gave it to them. I should leave soon..."
"But what will happen to us when their friends return? Please, can you stay and help us?"
Balthazar's eyes narrowed- more of them, on their way. His actions would bring woe to the villagers, should he leave now. Was there a place for him here, at least for a time? He looked down at his blood stained hands...
"Master?"
One of Balthazar's monk acolytes stood before his throne, head bowed as he waited for his master to reply. He sighed, clearing his head and nodded in approval. "Speak."
"Our spies combing the roads have found some of the companions of Greywulf and Imoen, heading through the northern deserts down toward Amkethran." the monk spoke, frowning as he looked up at his master. "Yet... there are no signs of the Bhaalspawn themselves."
Balthazar's eyes narrowed- he had been worried that the wards of Gorion would sense his tainted blood upon meeting him. And yet, they were nowhere to be found while their companions were on a course straight for the monastery- something had changed. Melissan had assured him that- they were coming to him, she had directed them to- no. She was not as 'in control' as she had thought. Neither was he, if the exchanges he'd been having with Abazigal and Sendai recently were any indication. It might just be that the ones most in control right now were the wards of Gorion themselves.
X
The sound of water dripping through the cavern gave the whole area a feel like that of the void, an empty pit where nothing existed except shadows and nightmares. Pools of water and condensation with that rippled with each falling drop, the only movement in the entire cave. And yet, through the darkness and through the void, if one cared to look, there stood the draconian son of Bhaal, Abazigal. Still in his human form, still holding back the true brilliance of his nature.
"Our time has come, my brethren!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the chamber. "The Realms lie before us, ready to fall. No army can stand before us, no force can hold us back. The Throne of Bhaal awaits those with the ambition and power to claim it... and I will not share the power with any other."
Hissing sounds began reverberating through the cave- Abazigal smiled. "The wards of Gorion are on the move. Sendai's forces are preparing to march against the surface, at Balthazar's command. Melissan hides from the forces of Tethyr, waiting for her opportunity to ride the coattails of our greatness. These puny mortals, these short-lived gnats. It is time to crush them, to burn them all until none remains but the superior race above! Rise, my kin! Rise, and darken the world with our power!"
A flash of blue light enveloped the cave, setting alight glowing mushrooms and fungi to fill the cavern with a sickly haze of green. In the center, Abazigal stood on his haunches, blue scales and ocean colored, spiked fins running from his head down the long, muscular neck. A single, large horn protruded from his head, bony and crackling with electricity. Behind him, dozens of pairs of reptilian eyes flashed open, chromatic drakes slithering from their nests while an amethyst dragon followed, concussive force knocking chunks of rock from the ceiling as it shouted in glorious praise of its master. A green dragon and a brown dragon flanked each other, biting and slashing against one another as they came to bow before Abazigal, their long necks lowering before rising again, waiting for their orders.
"Draconis, my son... it is time." Abazigal growled, lightning flaring from his snout with anticipation. "Take Fll'Yissetat with you and clear the path east- the geas she has sworn will ensure her loyalty to our cause."
"As you wish, father." Draconis smiled, his massive jaws stretching back around his dirt colored scales. "You will be following behind?"
"I will." Abazigal gestured at Tamah, the amethyst dragon as well as the nest of chromatic drakes. "We will darken the skies above Amkethran, and there will be nothing remaining of Balthazar's fortress. He thinks to control me? It is long past time that the people of Faerun learn to fear the eldest race once more. Take to the skies, my son. Tonight, Amkethran burns."