Eighteen months ago:
"Concentrate!" The old man's voice rippled through the air around her, a faint calling amidst a roaring whirlwind of power. Not that she was in an actual whirlwind, of course. Nalia De'Arnise was in fact, safe in her seat of power, unassailable and unreachable by any who would seek to harm her. She stood in the grand court of her father's Keep, now her own by right of blood and birth. Guards were stationed outside the heavy, iron reinforced doors that led to the throne room of the Lord's Chamber, and another pair was stationed at each stairway and doorway leading to her chambers. There was no way that any intruder would ever breach her sanctuary again, at least not without an army behind it. And yet… it was not enough.
"Open your mind- let the essence of magic flow through your spirit, become one with the magic…"
Her teacher's words barely reached her ears- she was concentrating in the moment, one with the magics that existed here and there and within herself- all of it was here, and inside her. She needed it. For her people, for her lands… for herself. Nalia's closed eyes burst open, orange light flooding her vision as she arched her neck backward, channeling the arcane energy she could feel building within…
"Good… now shape the power you feel. As with any spell, it is all a matter of concentration. Always concentrate, always! When you have mastered the talent needed to contain this kind of magic, you will work on instinct alone. Until then, your control must be absolute!"
Control… yes. That was what she needed. Control over her magics, over her life… she'd lost control twice, in the last year. Once was when her father had died, when she looked on helplessly while her home was decimated and stolen from her. She'd been forced to beg for help, to pay men and women to reclaim it for her- her efforts to help had been met with little more than looks of derision and empty platitudes in order to keep the weakling from holding them back. The Bhaalspawn Greywulf and his company were noble, and she owed them much… but there would be no forgetting the shame she'd felt at getting left behind- nay, pushed away- when it came time to reclaiming her home, to avenging her father. Never again, she'd sworn. And yet… not a year later, she'd needed their help again…
Nalia's features darkened, her fists clenching as she thrust her hands outward, letting the ebb and flow of the arcane swell inside her, increasing faster and faster- she felt the magic of the world grow inside, doubling her power, tripling it-
"What are you doing?! You are not ready for so much, all at once! You must release your grip-" her tutor's shouts of warning were drowned out by the influx of energy Nalia felt within.
There would be no releasing of power, no relaxing of her grip on the lands she protected. Not again. Not as when she'd been forced to seek aid a second time, from the very ones who had aided her the first time. Again she found herself too weak to prevent disaster at the dragon Firkraag's hands. Again she was powerless to defend herself, a mere pretender to the title of the Lady of the De'Arnise lands. All of her nobility, it meant nothing in the face of such power, such an army. She remembered looking down on the orcish armies that marched on her Keep and feeling so helpless, so… impotent. No longer. No more. Never… never again. Not once she was… once she… Nalia felt her arms begin trembling, muscles fading under the ethereal strain, the burden of her body being forced to support powers it was untrained for. No! She would not submit, would not be denied. Nalia felt an animalistic growl build in her throat before she loosed a howl of equal parts fury and pain, trying desperately to control the wellspring of magic that she had opened within herself. It was right there… like a prize just out of reach of her fingertips… and yet she could not reach it. The power would tear her mind apart, if not her body…
"Let go, child… let go of this power- it is too much, too soon… let it go-" the soothing words of the archmage Khelben Blackstaff somehow crept into her deafened senses- she could feel his presence intruding inside her spirit- he was magically entering her spirit realm, adding his power to hers, trying to bottle the magics she'd attempted to contain- with equal parts frustration and relief, Nalia submitted- she joined his efforts and together the flow of magic within her ceased- Nalia gasped as she found herself stumbling backwards, collapsing awkwardly on her own Throne as the elderly wizard stepped away from her, leaning heavily on his black staff with a deep exhalation and a disapproving glare on his wizened features.
"I… I almost had it!" Nalia spat, pushing herself up again, the long emerald sleeves of her robe fluttering behind her as she stood tall, fixing Khelben's glare with all the weight that an embarrassed noblewoman could muster. "I am close, I can feel it! Surely you could as well- let us… let us take a moment to rest, then try again. I am certain I shall succeed this time."
Blackstaff eyed Nalia a moment longer, then smiled weakly, shaking his head in realization as he smoothed his long, black streaked beard. "No… no, I do not think so, my dear student. It grows clear to me now that the ways of patience are wasted upon thee- and I have not the heart, nor perhaps the stamina, to keep up with one so driven as you."
"Khelben!" Nalia cried out in shock and indignance. "I have paid you everything you have asked to train me, have I not? You are the most experienced arch-mage in all the Northern Kingdoms! No wizard alive has walked Faerun longer than you, save Elminster, yes?"
"That may be… but I do not train young ones with the Art for money- I have little use for the coin you were so willing to give to any mere enchanter or cantrip-tosser." Khelben's demeanor abruptly hardened, the man's sharp eyes narrowing as he pointed a finger at the noblewoman. "I saw your earnest desire to increase your knowledge in the secrets of magic- it has ever been my desire to encourage those with the aptitude, but only if they are willing to follow the wisdom I have to offer. We have studied and worked together for nearly three weeks, Lady Nalia… I have studied, and I have judged. You are simply not ready for the powers you wish to wield."
"But I must have more!" Nalia pleaded, taking a step toward the arch-mage, hands clenched tightly as she stared at the old man. "I cannot defend my people like this- I refuse to put them in danger again! Please!"
Khelben looked on at Nalia with what may have been pity, or wariness. Either way, he gathered his cloak and turned from her, the only sound in the great hall of De'Arnise that of his staff tapping the stone floor with each step he took. Before reaching the great oak doors, he paused and turned, fixing the silent, despairing woman with a gaze filled with warning. "Your words betray the lusts of your heart, young one. Your intentions may be noble, but if you cannot control them, they will lead you to destruction. I shall grant you one last piece of advice before I take my leave… wait. Think on what you have learned here with me. Train your mind each day. Devote yourself to the study of the Art. It will take months. Years, even. But it is only through time that your spirit will be stilled, your mind will be opened, and only then shall you be ready for the power you seek."
"I do not have years, wizard!" Nalia screamed as Khelben turned and opened the oak door, walking through, leaving her court. "I need the power now-!"
"Then, lady De'Arnise," Blackstaff's words faded as he vanished from sight, "Be prepared to pay for your knowledge with more than coin…"
The echo of the door closing flooded the room as Nalia stepped back, impotent rage and frustration filling her frame- she resisted the temptation to scream to the heavens- all she could do was look down at her hands, veins veritably coursing with power- so much more than she'd had scant months ago… but still not enough. Oh, she was more than a match for any spell-slinger out there on the streets. She could stand toe-to-toe with the Red Wizards of Thay these days… perhaps even match the Bhaalspawn sorcerers now, Greywulf and Imoen. But to truly stand on her own… to defeat the armies of her enemies, those involved in this 'Twisted Rune'… she needed more. And her damned body, her mind… it just wasn't ready. Trying to tap the energies necessary for the most powerful of spells would leave her a shriveled husk, or perhaps only shatter her mind, leaving a drooling body behind with nothing to guide it. A Horrid Wilting at least… surely she could cast that.
Nalia focused her will, summoning the energy inside her- she knew the incantations by heart, had studied the spellcraft and the hand gestures needed to form the destructive potential from the ether. The skull began to form in her hand- but the pull, the intense draw on her own life force was just so damned intense- she could feel her own will, her blood draining as she pushed through the pain, ignoring the dizziness. Her skin was turning gray rapidly, but it was just a simple spell- she would cast it. She would-! Nalia felt the blood begin to trickle from her nose- then the side of her lips… no. She would cast it. She was ready. Just a simple spell- the skull solidified, brown dust trickling from it; Nalia allowed herself a laugh, ignoring the burst blood vessels in her eyes, ignoring the streaks of red leaking from her nostrils, ears and eyes.
Her arm felt like it was made of lead, completely numb, but she had to hurl the skull, had to finish the casting; her arm was too weak to do much more than let the skull roll from it, falling to the ground and bouncing a few feet from her- Nalia's head felt like it would explode- her mental grasp on the final moments of the spell slipped, only for a second. Just a second was too much. The skull disintegrated into dust, and Nalia watched as all her work amounted to little more than ashes on her throne room's carpets.
Nalia stared blankly for a moment before feeling her legs give way as she collapsed upon her throne, her last thoughts before sinking blissfully into unconsciousness, that at least she'd stabilized the skull before her magics failed- progress, if one were to be charitable.
X
Six Months Ago:
Screams faded from the air as the remains of a hapless warrior began to fade into the sands of the desert, all moisture sucked from his body and leaving him dust and bone. Nalia watched his carcass blow away in the breeze, her Horrid Wilting spell wiping away the last piece of resistance that stood between her and the goal she ought- here in one of the ancient tombs of the Old Ones, she had found another piece of the puzzle.
Nalia's armored boots crunched the bones of the guardians who had fought to defend this tomb from her and her guardsmen- though at this point, her company did little more than slow her down. Her powers were more than enough to sweep away these defenders- and at long last, the Eye of Vecna would be… Nalia's exhilaration turned to a fuming growl as she gazed inside the sarcophagus- instead of the rotted eye of the infamous lich Vecna, there sat only a golden circlet within the clutches of a desiccated corpse. Her studies had led her here… but perhaps it was for the best. She had not relished the thought of removing her own eye and replacing it with the lich's… and in the end, this little trinket may be something of use as well. Nalia waved her guardsmen off, casting the spells necessary to identify the circlet- she smiled as she felt the magics thrumming within the metal band. Nothing so powerful as she had hoped, but every bit helped. As she placed the circlet around her head, settling upon her auburn hair, Nalia could feel a rush of energy fill her, like a new portion of her mind had opened, ready to absorb and utilize all the powers she'd acquired over the last few months. And oh, how much power she'd found.
Khelben had been right… she hadn't been ready. Her body was simply not prepared to handle the magic she desired- not unassisted, anyway. But he had been wrong… coin would be sufficient, for those who knew where to spend it. Dozens of treasure hunters, dozens of expeditions and purchased volumes of hidden lore and treasure troves- all of it was sought and sought, mere gold and silver discarded or added to her vaults, while the rest, the important things… the magical artifacts of the land were added to her, used to increase her powers until she was every bit the archmage she wanted… no, deserved to be. A staff of the Magi was used to increase the power of her basic spells, doubling their potency through the mere act of channeling them through it rather than her hands. A ring of Insight on one hand, dramatically increasing the number of spells she could memorize, expanding her mind's eye without the years necessary to train herself for such a thing; a ring of Alacrity on the other, letting her mind comprehend the incantations and channel her power faster than the body could normally handle. A belt upon her hips that pushed her intellect far beyond anything it had been previously- the sheer intelligence needed to comprehend spells like Time Stop or Imprisonment had once been beyond her- now it was simply a matter of acquiring the capacity, the power to cast them. Something the Eye of Vecna would have been instrumental in allowing her… but no matter.
Nalia strode from the tomb out into the sun again, a rush of confidence filling her body. Her powers grew with each day… not only her natural gifts, but those granted by the artifacts she'd sought, by the power she'd drawn to herself. And there was so much more to be claimed… she'd even read of devices that would liken her to a goddess, were she to claim them. As one of her guardsmen brought her a horse, Nalia mounted the beast, readjusting her elven splint mail, feeling the armor's magic pulse and ripple as it reinforced her bond with nature based magics. Oh yes… she was nowhere close to the impotent little girl she'd been in days past. That Nalia was long dead. A new woman had risen in her place… and who knew? Perhaps she was destined to rise as more than just a sorceress… but a goddess.
X
Now:
The grandeur of the hall in which Nalia, Reynald, Greywulf and Anomen found themselves within was a stark contrast to the wretched abyss the previous section of Watcher's Keep had been. Here, there were no demons, no dragons lurking in the bloody mist. Instead of a starry void floating in the middle of a microcosm, there existed the glory of a temple, an altar to the power and the god of Balance. Statues of Helm formed entirely of marble and emerald lined the massive chamber, sparkling with light that seemed to come from everywhere all at once. Was it really light, or just a manifestation of Helm's glory? Perhaps both- impossible to tell, as there did not appear to be a ceiling above, only blazing light that made it impossible to even turn their gaze upwards for fear of ruining their sight.
Nalia raised a hand to cover her eyes, but her gaze never left the focal point of the hall- in the center, four pillars on either side, sat the Miracle Machine. A god-thought in earthly form, a piece of the divine come among mortals. The tomes had called it the Machine of Lum the Mad, but she knew as much as any of its true design- it had become something of an obsession for her since discovering of its existence and now… it was within sight. Within reach- Nalia felt a smile cross her face- if she listened hard enough, it was almost like the machine was singing to her. A beautiful song, a divine melody…
"Do not lower your guard… not yet. This place has yet to offer us any kind of relief, I do not expect it to start now." Anomen's words were harsh, cruel even- Nalia resisted the urge to rebuke him for speaking, choosing instead to keep focused on the beauty lying before her.
The Machine of Lum the Mad resembled… a chair? No. Far too simple a word to describe the infinite possibilities. A throne powered by the engines of the universe- massive piston like arms bolted the enormous contraption to the floor, as globes of diamond floated in perfect harmony above the main control panel… the wielder of the power would sit there, in the midst of the energy and the magic- tuning forks were splayed out on all sides to soak and draw the magic from the ether, with massive control rods protruding into the blinding glory of the sky above, ready to ground the chair and keep the laws of the universe from breaking with the thoughts of the user.
Reynald glanced at Nalia- the woman was transfixed, staring unblinkingly at the contraption in the center of the room, unable to tear her gaze from it. He frowned, unsure of what was so compelling- perhaps he simply did not understand her fascination with the magical artifacts they'd discovered along their journey, but this seemed… different. He moved to draw closer to her, hoping she might relieve his curiosity, if nothing else. "My lady? What is that thing? I fear I have not the capacity to discern its purpose… but it seems the only item of significance in this hall of grandeurs."
"He's right…" Greywulf coughed, still clutching his side as he attempted to keep pace with the others- his full strength had yet to return, thought it seemed that he sensed the power of the machine as well- was that it? Nalia tensed- no. No… she was merely nervous- all her searching had led to this moment, it was natural to feel… how? Excited? Unsure? Jealous? No. Never jealous again. All her efforts to buy and fake the powers that Greywulf and Imoen so effortlessly wielded… those days would be gone in moments. Once she'd gained control of the power lying before her… the days of oppression would end. The De'Arnise lands would be safe. Her power would be absolute. Nobody would dare threaten her again.
"Another seal of Helm, below our feet." Anomen noted, tapping the stone floor below them with his boot- sure enough, emblazoned on the stones was the Hand of Helm, an Eye of Helm pictured directly in the palm of the armored gauntlet. The same seal that had blocked their path at every turn- to progress any further would surely require them to bypass it once more. The strange device in the center of the room was surely the key- the rest of the room was comprised of pillars, statues, nothing else of interest.
Somehow just looking at the machine gave Anomen a headache- it was like the very air rippled around it and refracted back on itself- he paused, rubbing his eyes and blinking several times- Reynald was obviously suffering the same effects as he, but he continued forward, refusing to leave Nalia's side. Greywulf had paused, choosing the path of caution- unsure of his footing whilst still injured so. "Nalia? Perhaps we should investigate together- this thing cannot be safe, hold a moment, let us-"
An explosion of air filled the chamber, rocking all four of them, tossing Greywulf to his back and Anomen to one knee- Nalia only remained standing with the aid of Reynald, the rush of air, the booming voice that all heard and yet none truly 'heard', filled their thoughts and minds without regard or care. A god's tones in their heads- it was a miracle that none of them went insane with the sheer span of information and knowledge they had all received… and yet, there it was. All the history, all the wisdom tied to the Machine of Lum the Mad was given to them, all directed and pushed into the their thoughts without warning by whatever power governed this level of the Keep. Helm's influence? Or that of the creature ensnared below? It mattered little. As the four remained locked in place, trying to make sense of the images blazing through their mind, the pieces slowly fell into place. Slowly but surely, every… piece… fell…
Nalia's eyes blazed open as her senses returned… and in a horrible moment, she understood what the machine before her would do for her… and what it would do for them. Nalia glared back at Greywulf and Anomen, then forced herself to a steady position, preparing to run toward the Machine- "Wait!"
Anomen had one hand outstretched, the other rested on a knee as he pushed himself up, a heavy glare in his eyes. "Perhaps it should not be you, my lady, to use the Machine… I have had questions for you for some time since we began this expedition… before we proceed, I think it best we have a talk."
"And what questions do you think to put to me, squire?" Nalia asked, a veritable sneer across her normally pretty features. "Do you think me a fool? You want the machine's power for yourself, or will you deny the truth so easily? I am the one who has studied this power, only I am qualified to use it! Who among you have studied the language of the deities this thing speaks in? Do you think that a simple vision will replace the months of study I have-"
"Months?" Greywulf coughed, rising to his full height, wrapping his cloak around him as he took a few steps forward, moving equal with Anomen. "Something tells me that you have known of this machine for some time, Lady Nalia. You knew what this Machine could do this whole time, didn't you? While the rest of us wandered blindly through this place, seeking goals of our own… this was it for you, wasn't it? This device… this was your ultimate goal."
"And what if it is?!" Nalia shouted. "I offered to help all of you, and I have not reneged on that promise. I will aid you in your quest to seal this place, and I will aid Greywulf in his wars against the Bhaalspawn. This machine will help us all!"
"But my lady… you saw the visions, as clear as we." Reynald's tones were quiet, but earnest- he looked at her with confusion, still standing at her side . "This machine is our only way to the next level of the Keep… and yet, should it be used to open the way, its power will be lost forever. Is that not what we saw?"
"That's what I saw…" Anomen nodded, resting a hand on his hip- near, but not on the mace that rested there. "Lady Nalia… allow one of us to use the machine. I feel that your judgment in this matter may be compromised-"
"I shall not!" Nalia screamed- before either Greywulf or Anomen could react, she had drawn a circle with one hand- a burst of flames erupted from the circle, sending both Greywulf and Anomen scattering to either side. Reynald turned to Nalia in shock, unsure of what to do- before she could bolt for the machine, he grabbed her arm, holding her still.
She glared heavily at him, as though about to strike him down for daring to touch her- she relented for a moment, if just that. "You understand, do you not? I am only looking for the power to make my lands strong! To keep the De'Arnise people safe!"
"I… I do not fault you for such, my lady… but this?" Reynald gestured at their two companions with his free hand- "Surely there must be another way! A compromise, for you to gain your power and us to reach the end of this accursed place…"
Nalia's gaze softened, and she looked at Reynald with… compassion? Longing? She whispered softly- "You promised to protect me, did you not? I need your protection now, my guardsman…"
Reynald froze- his conflicting feelings were no longer his own. His eyes turned red with the Domination spell wrought upon him from her magic- he let go of her arm, drew his blade and turned to face Anomen and Greywulf as Nalia smiled and went to run-
"I don't think so." Greywulf snarled from a kneeling position, raising both hands, ensconced in white light. Two Bigby's hands erupted from the ether and plucked both Nalia and Reynald off the ground, tossing them backwards and over the top of Greywulf and Anomen. The pair clattered across the smooth stone floor, quickly scrambling to their feet as Anomen strode to Greywulf's side, the pair of them standing between Nalia and her ultimate goals- the squire was holding his mace now, and Greywulf's hands crackled with lightning… "Nalia, stop this. It doesn't have to be this way…"
"I will give you one chance to get out of my way." Nalia spat, letting emerald flame snake over her fingertips as Reynald lowered his stance behind his tower shield, the enthralled warrior and mage a mirror reflection of Anomen and Greywulf. "Stand aside!"
"You're out of control, obsessed!" Greywulf shook his head, gesturing at Reynald. "You've taken over his mind; can't you see how crazy that is, what you're doing?"
"Move!" Nalia shouted, raising her arms.
"Not going to happen." Anomen growled.
She paused a moment to regard her former allies- she nodded and growled, "So be it. Your blood be on your own head."
X
"He's… he's going to kill me, if we survive this, isn't he?"
"Yes."
"And you… all of you… none of you will be stopping him, now will you. After everything I've done, you'll all just let him tear me apart, is that it?"
"Yes."
"Damn it." Saemon swore, his head in his hands as he sat in a holding cell across from Jaheira, Cernd, Viconia… and Minsc. Oh yes, the berserker was here in the same prison cell as he… and it was something of a miracle Saemon hadn't found himself torn limb from limb just yet. In fact, the only thing keeping him alive right now was the entreating of Jaheira and Cernd- they'd told Minsc upon his awakening of their situation- the five of them were to face Abazigal and the remainder of the draconic army picking over the ashes of Amkethran. Even then, it had seemed Minsc would ignore all appeals to sense, all thoughts of uniting in a common goal… but he'd stopped. Hadn't said a word since… just sat there. Just stared at Saemon, murder in his eyes.
Saemon looked up again, then back down, unable to meet Minsc's furious gaze for more than a moment. "It… it wasn't my fault."
"He doesn't care." Jaheira's tones were dull, but the pain, the anger in her was no less visible than Minsc's. It was just that on her… it seemed natural. As though she'd seen her share of tragedy and could channel it accordingly. On Minsc… it was frightening. Unreal. Like staring death in the face and knowing that nothing would stop this behemoth until it had what it wanted. In this case… one Saemon Havarian's life. "And even if I- if any of us wanted to stop him from hurting you when this is over… we could not."
"What the hell does that mean?!" Saemon exploded in equal parts fear and anger. "You think I wanted any of this to happen? That I wanted to see any of you lot again? I was more than happy to steer clear of all of you and your kind until my dying day! But you and your thrice damned war just couldn't let me be! And now we're going to get eaten by some dragon Bhaalspawn all because that madman in there doesn't want to risk his own hide-"
"Shut your mouth, rivvil." Viconia interrupted the pirate turned smuggler, a look that spoke of resigned anger and exhaustion on her ebony features. "Do not test their patience right now."
Perhaps it would be a surprise to hear Viconia speak with any sort of kindness to or about the others- it shouldn't have been, really. She had been one of them, after all. For a short time, but she understood. They were more than a simple traveling company. They were a family, a group that had each other's backs at the best of times, at the worst of times. It was a kind of trust and camaraderie she both envied and feared. Envied for how good it felt to be a part of something like that… feared for how much it could hurt, how much it could backfire. Like now. Aerie's death was going to be a wound that all of them would have to bear for some time… the ranger more than most. And though she would not say it to any of the others… with Minsc this enraged, this fired up for battle and bloodshed- Aerie's death might be the catalyst for their victory.
Saemon seemed like he was about to speak again- he thought better of it, lowering his head again, resting his face in his hands. This wasn't how it was supposed to have gone. He should've been out of this place by now, well on his way to somewhere, *anywhere* else. But again, the Bhaalspawn had found him, gotten involved in his business and blown it all to hell. First Athkatla, then Brynnlaw, now Amkethran. Was he to blame, at least partially? Well, yes. Of course he'd had a *small* part to play in the troubles that had befallen him. But he was good at getting out of trouble… at least he had been. His teleportation stone that had saved his life on numerous occasions was gone now, taken from him by Balthazar's monks when he'd been thrown into this place to await their battle with Abazigal.
It was an old storeroom that he'd had his smuggler crew fashion down here inside their mountain lair- a small concave section of the inner cavern proper that he'd put a wooden door on the entrance of, then locked it all with some iron stakes and latches. In the end, it was nothing more than a serviceable storeroom that had been turned into his own personal jail at Balthazar's behest. The only light came from a few torches lining the cavern- a few benches had been put inside for them to sit on while awaiting their time to be sent into battle. Their weaponry had been stripped from them while they waited, though they'd each been given some healing potions and time to recover their strength and spells, if need be. Not that Saemon had felt comfortable enough to sleep with any of them in the room with him… no, he had a distinct feeling that if he lowered his guard for an instant, he simply wouldn't wake up.
He glanced up again to regard his new 'companions'… of all of them, the only one without a look of hatred directed his way was the bare chested druid with the long ponytail. Cernd, that was it. He was a relative newcomer to this company of 'heroes'… and unlike Jaheira, did not wear his emotions and hatreds on his sleeve. He was a much more sensible druid…at least, when he wasn't transforming into a savage wolf-were. Hmm… perhaps he was alone in this mess after all.
But it wasn't his fault. It wasn't, was it? He was just trying to get by, just trying to make a living for himself, get a few piles of gold along the way and if that stepped on a few toes, so what? There was plenty to go around, right? Nobody would- or should- care if Saemon Havarian wanted some for himself. He'd earned it, by the gods! Even as the self-righteous thoughts filled his head, Saemon caught another glance of Minsc- behind all the rage, behind the insanity that had overtaken the once friendly ranger, there was so much pain, so much grief. Damn it all. Saemon thought briefly of Aerie, of finding her corpse under the Amkethran sun…
The sound of their 'prison' being opened got their attention- footsteps thudded as two monks walked down the long winding cavern until they reached the small opening where their prisoners awaited. "It is time."
Nobody said a word as they were escorted to the main smuggler's chamber, their weapons given to them as another set of monks moved to flanks and surround them. It was made all too apparent that there were archers and wizards trained on their every move- should they try to attack their captors and free themselves from this situation, they would not last more than a few moments. No, their only escape lay in the ruins of Amkethran… and through the jaws of at least one more dragon-blooded Bhaalspawn.
The long cavernous passageway the five of them walked would lead out to the small mountain side hut that had led Saemon into the smuggler's den in the first place- but as he had anticipated, the moment they reached the outside world, the passageway door was closed and locked behind them, leaving them to their battle, one way or another.
The swashbuckler swallowed heavily, steeling his nerves- he gripped the hilt of his rapier tightly, then glanced at the others expectantly. "Well? Who's got the plan, eh? I assume we aren't goin' to be trotting up to the ol' beast and askin him to come on down and have a rumble with us in the streets, are we?"
"No… no, we are not." Jaheira grimaced, trying to keep her wits, her calm… trying not to show on edge she was. Aerie was dead, the others were… somewhere. Anywhere. This was their chance to help, but it was all going so horribly wrong… maybe she should have expected this. To predict how long they'd survived was impossible- that they'd all managed thus far was a miracle. And to face as many dragons as they had simply added to the un-believability of it all. Their luck had to have run out long ago. For Aerie… maybe it was just her time. No! Thinking like that would do them no good- not when Minsc was barely with them as it stood now. She needed her old confidence, arrogance even- enough arrogance to believe they could not only survive, but win out in the end. Jaheira glared at Saemon with blazing green eyes, a fire in her tone she'd not had moments ago. "You have been in this city far longer than any of us. You must know something that will give us an advantage in the upcoming battle. Think!"
The sound of a dragon's roar flying overhead grabbed all of their attention for a brief moment, but it passed with the sound of wingbeats passing by- the small, broken down mudbrick hut they were taking cover in was barely still standing- and yet it gave them cover from any dragon peering down for potential prey. That there was no longer the sound of defenders launching arrows, spells or ballista bolts spoke to the fact that most if not all of the resistance had fallen. No doubt Abazigal and his kin were searching the debris for signs of any remaining prey right now. "I… I don't know! I wasn't supposed to be a part of this!"
"Jaheira is right. A frontal assault would be suicidal- to throw our lives away like waves crashing on the rocks of the shore would be worthless." Cernd folded his arms, standing tall, towering over the crouched Saemon. "Surely you have some knowledge that will prove useful."
"I'm telling you, you've got the wrong man for the job!" Havarian growled, standing to look Cernd in the eye. "This ain't my department, you know? I'm not a dragon slayer- this is all way too much for my tastes! If I had my way I'd be out of here by now, all right? Don't get me wrong, I have no quarrel with any of you, but it makes no difference to me who lives or dies, I just want out-"
Minsc erupted from his silence, grabbing Saemon by the throat and slamming him against the mountainside with madness in his eyes. "And Aerie?! It did not matter to you if she lived or died, no? You did not have a quarrel with her, but SHE lies dead in the sand now!"
Saemon tried to speak- only a few gurgles came from his throat as Minsc's grip tightened. "She was my witch! Mine! Mine to protect, and I am bereaved twice! Your fault! I will kill you!"
"Minsc…" Cernd laid a hand on Minsc's arm to try and calm him- it was a mistake. The swift whipping of his arm backwards knocked Cernd to the ground, skidding to the wall of the hut. Minsc returned his focus to Saemon, pure rage and anger in his eyes. He would kill the man before him, and nobody would stop him. It didn't matter what happened now. All of it was meaningless- the others, the world, the Bhaalspawn wars… none of it meant a damned thing. She was dead. And the man in his hands now was to blame.
Saemon's bulging eyes slid to Jaheira, pleading desperately for her aid- she watched the dying man for a moment… but couldn't do it. Couldn't bring herself to stop Minsc. There was just no sympathy left in her for the swashbuckler- she turned away, moving to help Cernd to his feet.
There, in the small ruin of a hut in Amkethran, Saemon Havarian knew his sins had caught up with him. He would die at the hands of this mad ranger… nobody would stop him. Nobody wanted to stop him. Had he truly alienated everybody in the world so much, so fully? Would anyone mourn his passing… none here, that much was certain. A rather depressing thought to die with, he pondered, as the light in his eyes began to fade-
"Minsc." Viconia's tones were barely audible to Havarian, yet unexpected nonetheless. "I, of all people, have no qualms with your desire to kill this man. Revenge is a dish I have tasted many times… but there is one lesson you have never learned… patience. Kill this fool, of course… but at the right time. In the right place. Let him suffer in the land of the living a bit longer, wait until he has accounted for all his sins against you… then tear him apart, knowing he has paid in full."
Nobody could tell if the mad berserker had even heard Viconia's words… and then without warning, his grip relented as he let the rogue slide to the floor, bruises already forming on his neck where Minsc had held him. The ranger did not speak, he simply turned and folded is arms, staring out between the holes in the wall of the hut, gazing at the ruins of Athkatla just barely visible.
Saemon coughed and choked, gasping for breath as he tried to brace himself against the rock cliffside and get to his feet. The drow cleric of Lolth spat in disgust as he finally stood upright. "He has allowed you to live a few moments longer, because there exists the slightest chance you could be useful to us, jaluk. I certainly hope you do not disappoint."
"A plan of action would be a fine place to start, I think." Cernd remarked, eyeing Minsc once before standing next to Saemon, his demeanor the only calm one amongst the group. "How many dragons yet remain out there? How many of the drakes? Would it be possible to flee the city proper without the dragons spotting us?"
The druid's gentle tones were enough to clear Saemon's mind, allay his fears for the moment… they were right. He would have to come up with something, anything if he wanted to make it out alive. For all his skill in escaping trouble in the past, this was one fight he wouldn't be able to sneak out of… damnable Bhaalspawn. Bhaalspawn…?
Saemon laughed, shaking his head as he felt his throat choke up again, still sore from Minsc choking him. He managed a small grin, feeling that familiar confidence rise up in him. "Sorry all- just had a thought. Dunno how we didn't see it before… but I think we might be able to get ourselves out of this mess, and get a little payback to ol Balthazar as well, eh?"
"We're all listening…" Jaheira noted, tossing several braids behind her shoulder as she folded her arms.
"Well… strikes me that the only reason Abazigal would've come out this far, brought all his dragon kin were if he was planning on something to do with the Bhaalspawn- you all know better'n I about the stakes of this war… he must've thought there was something… or someone worth killing out here."
"Like Saradush." Jaheira frowned, listening to Saemon's words and letting the pieces fit. "But Amkethran was not a city full of the Children… by Silvanus, Balthazar. He's the one Abazigal came here to kill… the last member of the Five."
"Sounds about right, doesn't it?" Saemon shrugged. "I don't claim to be an expert, but unless I'm mistaken, Greywulf and Imoen are the only Bhaalspawn amongst you, yeah? It seems to me that there's really no good reason for Abazigal to be fighting any of us if we can give him a more tempting target- Balthazar, to be precise."
"You have not yet explained how we will bring the beast to Balthazar's doorstep… were the dragon even inclined to speak to ones such as us. Surely he has noticed we've slain many of his kin by now." Viconia frowned.
"Maybe. But we don't even need to be seen, right? Not so long as we can get Abazigal and Balthazar's men in a skirmish. Only thing separating the two is a giant mountainside. Shame we don't have two druids around who might be able to send that mountainside-a-splittin…"
"The spells you describe would be no small feat," Jaheira growled, but her features softened for a moment as she considered the plan, "But with both myself and Cernd, it may yet be possible. Implosion spells, centered at the heart of the mountainside that protects the inner caverns Balthazar hides in. We would need to be a good distance away to prevent the rocks from burying us, but it could open Balthazar to a strike by the dragon…"
"Eh… it gets better than that." Saemon winced. "See, I made sure to have some wards put up around that ol hideout of mine when I moved in. Standard procedure wherever I set up shop… you won't be able to cast those spells on the cliffside… at least not from out here. From the inside though… that's a different story."
"So we must steal back inside the smuggler's den, only to break it open to Abazigal's gaze. And hope to avoid the fury of both monk and dragon at the same time." Cernd considered it, shaking his head. "A more foolish endeavor I have yet to hear… but it is the only one we have, is it not?"
"How would we return inside the smugglers den?" Viconia inquired glancing behind them at the blocked up passageway they had traveled to reach the outside world again. "Surely the rivvin inside will not be so kind as to open the door…"
"Nae, but I have one last trick Balthazar don't know about." Saemon smirked. "That underground lake inside the mountain that I used to ship supplies in and out on? It reaches all the way down to the north end of the mountain range. There's an entrance what comes out by Trademeet's southern forest. It'd take us weeks to travel that far, but we could technically sail underground and get back that way… or we could use one of the wells that've been dug throughout the city that actually pull from the lake itself. We dive down, surface in the lake and climb ashore where all my goods were stashed- can't imagine the monks will be keeping too close an eye on the shoreline underground, right?"
"Swimming… not something I am overly familiar with." Viconia's features twisted with distaste. "But the plan has merit, I think. It certainly seems crazy enough that nobody would suspect it. A spell to breathe water would certainly be in order- I have not studied that particular magic, though I am certain our dear druids here have done so…"
Cernd nodded, checking with Jaheira as well. "Indeed. We can provide the magics for ourselves and two more- Minsc and Viconia, I should think. Presumably you have a way of reaching our destination without growing the gills of a fish?"
Saemon dangled a small amulet from his hand, smiling broadly. "Waterbreathing magics all around then. I suppose the only trick now is getting to one of them wells. Lucky for all of you, I know this city like the back of my hand. I can take us there, though if we want to avoid the drakes and dragons flitting about, we best be careful. Everyone ready to go?"
Minsc remained silent, but turned and faced the rest of the group, his sword in hand as he nodded. Saemon tried not to let the ranger's steely gaze unnerve him, but he still shivered a touch before leading them out slowly, ducking from ruin to ruin, keeping the wreckage of Amekthran between them and the dragons above at all times. They moved fast and low throughout the ruined city, Minsc's gaze never leaving Saemon's back, while Jaheira remained at the tail, keeping watch for any sign they'd been spotted. No roars from up high, no sounds of draconic wingbeats swooping down upon them. But still Jaheira's senses, her mind remained on high alert… and not just for the battle that was sure to come with Abazigal and Balthazar. The revelation that the monk was a Bhaalspawn… that Melissan had sent them right into the den of one of the Five meant one of two things. Either Melissan was an utter fool, who had been duped by one of the Five she was attempting to save the Bhaalspawn from, or she was playing a much different game than she'd led any of them to believe.
X
To fight an unknown enemy was one thing- a fight with a complete cipher was difficult, but for certain reasons that could be overcome. Patience, allowing the opponent to make moves that could be studied, planned for, countered. Not easy, not by any means. But doable, if one could lock away the emotion, the fear of facing the unknown.
To fight a hated enemy… that was something better, easier almost. The fear of the unknown was replaced by the rage of a foe who had earned your wrath. A foe who deserved the blade or spell coming his or her way. The cautiousness of the unknown fight gave way to anger and strokes fueled by rage and personal stakes. A more intimate battle, one that would see no quarter, no blood left on the field at the end.
To fight not an enemy, not an unknown, but a friend… that was something completely different. Something that spurred fear, fear of losing someone you cared about. Rage, rage at being betrayed by one whom you had trusted. It made you doubt yourself, made your strokes unsure and your spells uncertain… and if you couldn't overcome that rage and that fear, in the end, it made you dead.
Greywulf slid backwards across the marble floor, his chest smoking with the impact of a thunderbolt that had struck him squarely. His shielding had failed- splintered under the pure energy Nalia had sent his way. His head was still pounding from the demon malady he'd suffered so recently… his strength and focus were nowhere near their best. And yet… whether it was arrogance or confidence, he still felt he should have been a match for Nalia. The girl was powerful, young, but still not nearly as experienced as he. The advantages that his blood provided would be more than enough to even the odds, despite his recent injuries…
Another sizzling bolt of energy erupted into existence with the smell of ozone, held in Nalia's hand as she stutter-stepped forward, hurling it with a shout at where Greywulf was lying. The sorcerer forced his body to roll to the left, feeling his hair stand on end as the lightning impacted a few feet behind him. He tumbled to his hands and knees from the roll and skittered to a crouch, already moving his hands and chanting the words to a Mirror Image- his form split amidst six other copies, all flickering in and out as he faced Nalia down, hoping the sudden influx of targets would give her pause. It was, however, not to be. Nalia clasped her hands, letting energy build within her palms before hurling it all upwards- Greywulf cursed as a Meteor Storm erupted from above, driving fiery rocks down from above as Greywulf darted back and forth, trying desperately to stay alive. Was this how it would end? Killed by a power-mad friend, driven to kill allies all for more power? Wasn't this what his whole life had been since learning about the Bhaalspawn prophecy? No. Too much thinking, too much consideration. The only thing that mattered right now was staying alive. He couldn't afford to hold back anymore… but deep down, the fear wasn't that he would kill Nalia if he didn't hold back, it was that she would outmatch him regardless.
Across the arena, Anomen struggled to keep his shield high as Reynald rained blows down upon the squire- despite all his best attempts to break through to the former paladin, there was no breaking the magics. Not without some spellcraft of his own- a dispel wasn't beyond his skills as a cleric, but getting the space to cast it was proving troublesome. Whether it was his own skill and tactical mind or whether Nalia was directing him to do so, Reynald was giving Anomen no time to breathe, no space to break the engagement and use his priestly powers- it was all a battle of muscles and sinew and skill here… all the worse since he knew, deep down, Reynald was doing everything he could to fight it.
An overhead swing came hurtling towards his head- he batted his mace upward and over, redirecting the slash so it landed and glanced off the side of his right pauldron- Anomen charged forward with his shield, only for his shoulder rush to bounce off Reynald's tower shield. Still, the impact forced the two of them back, closer to the magical duel erupting between Greywulf and Nalia. He could scarce take a moment to consider them or their battle- a roar echoed amidst their skirmish, and Anomen's quick glance upward only confirmed what he knew was coming- but perhaps it was the chance he needed? Anomen hurled himself backward to avoid an incoming meteor that struck where he and Reynald had gone- though any hopes the squire had maintained of using a newly formed distance to cast that Dispel were dashed when he saw Reynald had dodged forward as well, landing beside Anomen and proceeding to whip his sword arm around from the prone position to land atop Anomen's neck. The squire batted his left arm up with the shield and deflected the blow, rolling away to avoid Reynald as much as to avoid the other meteors raining down. This was… this was madness. How could Nalia have done this to them? They had been allies, fought and bled for one another just hours ago… now this? Anomen felt rage well up inside him at the betrayal as he stumbled to his feet again, squaring off against Reynald as the former paladin dropped his blade and unslung the Impaler from his back, letting it rest atop his tower shield and slowly pressing forward. Should he survive this, there would be a reckoning from Lady De'Arnise… the Impaler thrust forward, so much closer and sharper than he could have foreseen. The magic it possessed was strong indeed- he barely stepped back, out of the range of its touch- an attempt to parry only left his mace striking thin air as the spear seemed to shorten before Reynald thrust again, this time catching the upper half of his shield. It rung his arm for a second with the impact- Anomen glanced down to see a dent in the metal. The metal of his shield was magically reinforced- it would seem the magic of the Impaler was stronger still.
Greywulf's entire body shook as the meteor headed straight for him paused in midair, held aloft by his own enchantments- supporting it with a massive version of the levitation spell, Greywulf hurled the meteor at Nalia, giving the sorcereress pause for the first time since the fight had began, it seemed. His mirror images had long since been crushed under the power of the Meteor Storm- it was only through a combination of luck and magic he'd not suffered the same fate. Still, maybe a taste of her own magics would help… she blasted it apart with a furious burst of Magic Missiles, reducing it to rubble that bounced off of her deflective aura. Greywulf's brow knit in both irritation and annoyance as he circled her, trying to clear his head- another wave of dizziness wracked his body, nearly toppling him. In another time, at full strength he would've used a Symbol Stun, or maybe a Time Stop to end the battle decisively, or maybe a flurry of offensive spells like Prismatic Spray or Distinegrate to throw Nalia onto the defensive. Now… he was having a hard time standing up straight. "You've gone too far, Nalia. But it doesn't have to end like this. You can still stop this madness…"
"Is it madness to want the best for my people? Madness to seek the power necessary for saving my land? I was weak before… but no longer!" Nalia screamed, blasting a wave of ice from her hands that threatened to engulf Greywulf entirely- he drew his cloak back, uttering the words to a Fire Shield- red flame erupted all around him and nullified the Cone of Cold's effect, as Nalia eyed him balefully. "You of all people should understand what I do here! Or did you think me too weak to survive on my own? Was I always to be second rate, a mere child compared to your power?!"
Her words were rambling, insanity- driven by jealousy perhaps, but more than that… fear. A light snapped on in Greywulf's head… of course. Fear that she would never measure up to the standard left by her father. Fear of her people suffering the fate Greywulf and his company had saved her people from twice. Was that it then? All of this madness, all this strife a result of them saving her so long ago? Or had she been unfit to rule in the first place, and the strain of magic simply exacerbated the problem? "We were trying to help you…" Greywulf retorted, conjuring several summoning pods from the ether, each one erupting with a hobgoblin decked out in full armor. A single mental command sent them scrambling toward Nalia- an annoyance at best, but it might buy him a few moments to breathe if she wasn't on her guard-
Nalia spun and her eyes blazed with green fire- a single word and a Death spell ignited amidst the summoned creatures and banished them back to the realm from which they'd been summoned. Greywulf was taken aback at how quickly she'd reacted to the summon- her reflexes were so damn quick- in fact, the entire fight he'd been on his heels, trying to match pace with her. It was as he'd thought earlier… he should've been able to take her. Match her, at the very least. And yet… she had him on the ropes, clear as day. Bottom line, she was never this good. And as Nalia's hands erupted in a Prismatic spray he had to turn and dive to the floor to avoid, he got the sneaking suspicion he knew exactly how she'd gotten so damn good…
"So… ah… how much does a setup like that cost, Nalia?" Greywulf coughed, rolling onto his back from where he'd landed and launching a quick acid arrow from his hand. A weak spell, easily deflected… but no. she chose to cast a quick absorption cantrip. Again, so fast on the draw, even when it was unnecessary. Greywulf focused his will, stretching out to her, trying to see her in the realm of the Art, not just the physical realm… there. Greywulf's eyes widened as he saw her for what she truly was… of course. All coming together now…
"You know naught of what you speak." Nalia spoke darkly, letting her hands glow bright white as a Bigby's Fist reached out of the air and picked Greywulf up before slamming him into the ground, the sorcerer coughing with the impact- it hurt to breathe, surely a rib was cracked. Maybe two.
"Heh… think I do." He spat blood on the ground, trying to climb to his knees as Nalia stood before him- just by her stance, he could tell two things. One- she'd already assumed victory. If she thought he was still a threat, she'd still be casting. Two- this was personal, whether or not she knew it herself. If she was really just after the Machine of Lum the Mad- now would be a perfect time to break off- in his condition, he doubted he could stop her. Anomen was still occupied by Reynald- no, this had become about beating him. About proving she was as good- no, better, than Greywulf. That she didn't need him… Greywulf laughed again, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. "So that's what this was all about? Proving you didn't need me or the others to help you fight your battles? You were so self-conscious you went out and bought your way to power like this?"
"Shut your mouth!" Nalia shouted, raising eldritch chains from the ground that wrapped around Greywulf's arms and legs, suspending him in mid-air. "You… you would dare mock me, after I've proven myself your better?!"
"My better?" Greywulf smiled through bloody lips. "Not quite. Maybe you take off that belt, those rings… probably that circlet you're wearing, drop the staff… maybe then we can call it a fair matchup. Those boots, too- maybe even that robe itself. Guessing you've got a number of other magic trinkets on you too… why do you look so surprised? You didn't think I would notice the power emanating from you? Thought it was all from you at first, but when I really focused, I could tell it was too uneven… your power is counterfeit. Nothing but baubles and artifacts you've raided from Helm knows how many tombs. Not that most mages don't augment their powers in some ways, but you… you're like a walking museum of trinkets."
"Enough!" Nalia screeched, reaching forward and grabbing Greywulf by the robes- her hands crackled with electricity as Greywulf's body buckled and shook with the infusion of energy. She stopped after a few moments, his entire body smoking as he looked at her weakly, the whole world spinning around her.
"It's too much, Nalia… all too much… you can't control the god-machine… you can barely control the tools you've got now. They've poisoned your… your mind. You can't-"
Nalia sneered and let her hands electrocute Greywulf once more before the ether chains vanished, dropping an unconscious half-elf to the ground before her. "Don't tell me what I can't do."
The sounds of Reynald and Anomen still fighting behind her were all but dead to her ears as she stepped toward the throne of the world, just waiting for its ruler to take a seat. All of it, all the power she'd desired, just a few feet away. She could *feel* the warmth, the thrumming of energy in the air as she ascended the few steps onto the podium where the main apparatus dwelled- she moved to take a seat- "No!"
Anomen shouted in vain, seeing that he had been too late, that Greywulf had failed to keep her back- it was a misjudgment of timing, and it cost him. Reynald spun to disengage from the lock he had been in with Anomen, whipping the Impaler around the side to crash under Anomen's shield- and as it swept in front of the squire, it extended, reaching out to stick in the squire's side, leaving fire where his kidney had been whole a moment ago. Anomen stiffened with the attack, unable to defend himself from the follow-up shield bash that sent him to the ground, mace clattering across the floor from his hands. Reynald stepped forward as if to end it all- "Enough!"
Nalia's words halted the approach of the enthralled warrior- she lifted the spell from Reynald's eyes, letting him see of his own volition as Nalia took a seat in the Throne of the universe- she smiled broadly and lifted her eyes as the entire room shook, every bit of the divine machinery coming to life and activating at her touch. Reynald's hands shook as he looked down at Anomen's wounded body, at Greywulf's smoldering form… "What have I done?! Nalia! Why? What madness have you wrought?!"
Reynald's anguished cry was answered by a bellowing tone that shook the entire room with power- Nalia remained seated upon the throne, but her skin glowed like moonlight and her hair burned like flame. "Not madness… I have done the only sane thing anyone could hope to do. I have ended this struggle, and taken my true place in this world. There will be no further conflict… I am the new goddess of Faerun. My every thought is made reality. My every whim a commandment. Nobody shall harm my people ever again. I will make this world- my world- a better place, starting right now."
X
Blue ichor and fluid sprayed through the air in a trail behind Sarevok's blade as he cut through a mind flayer that had rushed him, thinking to take him by surprise when he was occupied. A costly mistake, but not one that had been completely unjustified. Ever since Imoen, Sarevok, Haer'Dalis and Solaufein had entered this last, final antechamber of Sendai's lair they had been under siege by what seemed to be a never ending horde of the illithid. For each eager, grasping tentacle they struck down another two seemed to arise. That they hadn't been overwhelmed by the psionic whips and blasts of the mind flayers yet was a miracle in itself, thought that may have had to do with the spells Imoen was casting to try and shield them. The other three had formed a protective barrier around her in an attempt to keep her from harm, and so far it was working- the illithid were not exactly the best of warriors without the use of their mental powers, but just one of those tentacles could slip right up a nostril or into a mouth and extract a man's brain in moments. They couldn't afford to give the monsters that had ambushed them an inch…
A burst of mental energy powered through Imoen's defenses, driving white noise and blinding light through Sarevok's skull, staggering him backwards as he tried to fight the urge to drop his weapon and grab his head in pain. No… he would not give up, not like this… he had come too far, sacrificed too much to give up now. He was a Deathbringer- the massive warrior screamed a challenge as he flung himself forward again, landing atop a surprised mind flayer as he plunged the Sword of Chaos into the creature's chest, twisting it twice before pulling it out again.
Sarevok spun to see if the others had managed to hold their lines- he swore, twisting his body up and around to try and cover the failure of his comrades- Haer'Dalis was on his back, wrestling with two illithid who were doing their best to overpower the tieflings arms and get their tentacles inside his head- he could hold for now- Solaufein had his sword embedded in an Ulitharid, but the beast was still writhing, his mental lashes driving the drow to his knees as he attempted to keep the strain from exploding his skull. There was a wide path for the dark creatures to reach Imoen now- her spell shields to protect herself would only last so long as she abandoned her protection of the others- and since it seemed the girl was in command of her own faculties for the moment, it would most certainly be her own protections that gave first.
Without missing a beat, three of the approaching mind flayers launched psychic lashes at Imoen- veins in her forehead bulged under the strain, her teeth grit as she struggled against the tide of mental energy- and as Sarevok had predicted, a shattering like glass echoed all around as the yellow haze surrounding her fell to pieces and the alien monstrosities rushed her.
A shout of warning from the drow elf would do her no good here- Mithykyl, the Ulitharid in command of Sendai's mind flayers was already upon Imoen. Her eyes snapped open as the slimy claws of the creature gripped her wrist- she swung a short sword in an upward arc that took it by surprise- a severed hand with clammy cyan colored skin fell from her wrist as Mithykyl reared back and chittered in pain. It was a fine counter-blow and one that may have given Imoen the advantage were it just one of the mind flayers she had to deal with- but with three of the squirming, tentacled beasts bearing down on her, there was simply no way to win. One mental strike sent her stumbling away, clutching her forehead in agony, a second caused her sword grip to falter as she buckled at the waist, blood beginning to pour from her nostrils as white, piercing light filled her vision. The two illithid flanking Imoen grabbed one arm each, holding her up as Mithykyl slithered over, his facial tentacles writhing in anticipation. Imoen was unmoving- her companions too deep in combat with the rest of his kin to make it to her in time to aid. The only thought crossing his four-lobed brain as two tentacles slid inside Imoen's nostrils, another two slithering down her throat was that to drink the ichor of a Bhaalspawn was a privilege unto itself- the loss of one hand would be more than worth it…
Wait… something… something was not right. Mithykyl's yellow gleaming eyes widened as the pulling sensation inside Imoen's head turned warm- hot! Still he persisted, desperately pushing forward to extract her brain- the moment his tentacles seemed to reach their prize, a flash like infernal fire seemed to ignite and consume his questing, writhing limbs in flame. He desperately pulled away, trying to get out of her head before- too late! Imoen's eyes opened wide, black as night as she laughed, Mithykyl's entire head slowly engulfing in a bright halo of fire. "BURN!"
The Ulitharid stumbled away, eventually collapsing to the ground as the rest of the mind flayers in the room ceased their attacks and struggles, as though taking account of this new threat, of the power Imoen was radiating. It seemed as though they remained still, watching and assessing for hours… and yet in a brief passing of seconds, as one they all turned and shuffled towards the crevices and passageways they'd emerged from upon the initial ambush of the party, disappearing deep underground, abandoning their 'mistress' to the wrath of the Bhaalspawn that had come for her head. Sarevok smiled- Imoen had come so far in so short a time. And yet, if Sendai was near, as he believed, Imoen would be so very willing to accept Sendai's share of the taint. That… was not an option. His sister was laughing under her breath- the madness had taken her again. Unless he was gravely mistaken, the drow fool who followed her so blindly would be coming to her aid in moments- there it was, Solaufein moving to her side like a puppy dog- she'd reject him, there was no room for love in the mad dash for power. He'd learned that with Tamoko… no time to dwell on the past, on the wrongs he'd yet to right. There was still a chance for power, for ascension on his part if he took control… and now was the time.
Solaufein looked on Imoen with a mixture of caution and concern- streaks of blood marred her features from the illithid attacks- her demeanor was a flashing jumble of laughing and crying, her warring psyches unable to make sense of everything she'd been put through… would she embrace him? Stab him? He didn't know, couldn't know… a two handed blow came from nowhere, striking the back of Imoen's neck and sending her tumbling to the ground as Sarevok stepped over her body, glaring down at her to make sure his single blow had done the trick- no question, it had. She lay unconscious, the fury and the madness departing from her face all at once.
A cry of treason from the drow- the grin of an unexpected twist of the story from Haer'Dalis. Both inconsequential, both completely unprepared for what would happen next- Sarevok swung his blade in a wide arc, keeping his swing controlled and slow enough to give both of his erstwhile companions enough time to dodge backwards from the attack- as if it had been meant to hit either of them- before he raised his sword high, then brought the blade down into Imoen's torso.