"What have you done!?"

The question was fair, if misguided. With everything that had just taken place, Sarevok supposed he should have been impressed with Solaufein's measure of self-control… the drow warrior hadn't immediately tried to kill the former Bhaalspawn, instead he had merely drawn his sword and placed it to Sarevok's neck. Not that Sarevok intended to let this stand- a quick motion of Solaufein's wrists and then Sarevok's ambition would end somewhat quickly. Not an option.

"I have done only what was necessary for our survival- or did you think she was capable of controlling herself?" Sarevok growled, his tone imbued with all the menace and warning he was capable of… even at the point of a sword. "We are free to move and confront Sendai, end this madness… or at least, I am."

"You spin a wicked web, my dear hunting hound, but I think you still have much to answer for…" Haer'Dalis mused, drawing both Chaos and Entropy from their leather sheaths, twirling the jagged short swords once or twice before taking his place beside Solaufein. "You provide such wonderful amusement, but… I would not think you so eager to throw your life away. Surely there is more to this…"

"It doesn't matter what his reasons were." Solaufein snarled, pushing forward to force Sarevok away from Imoen's body. "If Greywulf were here this madman would be dead already. I will not hesitate to do the same-"

"But I think you will." Sarevok interrupted, eyes glinting like a dark sun as he folded his arms. "Take a look at my dear sister, little man. Tell me- is she dead?"

Soluafein hesitated a moment- Sarevok was crafty enough, clever enough to use a brief moment of indecision to gain the upper hand… he hadn't bothered checking Imoen's body, for why would he need to? Sarevok was death incarnate… there was no way he would have failed to kill her if that was his intent… but if it wasn't- he glanced down, eyes widening with what he saw… her chest rising and falling, slowly but surely as blood continued to pool from beneath her-

"Hnh. I thought you would let her bleed out, the way things were going." Sarevok grunted, before turning his back to them both, studying the stone archway that led further into the depths of Sendai's enclave. The symbol of Bhaal was emblazoned over the top, embedded in rocky glyphs and obsidian shards. It was a sign of power, a signal to all those who entered- death was here. Not just death. Death's master. Sendai was near. "So… you can either fight me, or you can save Imoen. I bear no ill will towards my sister- quite the opposite, in fact. Thanks to her, I yet live upon this mortal plane… but this is a battle I cannot face with her at my side. So take care of her, heal her as best you can… her life is now in your hands, drow. Sendai's life… that life is in mine."

Solaufein glared up at Sarevok, trying his best to understand, but it wasn't what he wanted… not really. He wanted the Deathbringer's blood for what he'd done- the crimson of his eyes was more fury than natural now. It was as if Sarevok could feel the heat of Soluafein's gaze on his back as the drow knelt by Imoen- "I wouldn't… neither of you are healers, if I'm not mistaken. Your only chance at healing Imoen lies in the simplest of forms… tell me, how many healing potions do you have left? Two? One?"

Solaufein's head snapped down towards his belt- the Deathbringer was right. Only one of the azure-colored brews remained within reach- he looked to Haer'Dalis, but the bard's stock was even more sparse. The battles they'd fought had been treacherous… for them to have come this far was a miracle, but now… would one be enough? For a wound this grievous…

"As I thought." Sarevok continued as he studied the path leading deeper into shadow- the smugness in his tone was evident, even with his back turned to the two of them. "Continue after me for my so-called crime, or go save her. I think we passed a storeroom a few tunnels back- surely there might be some healing supplies tucked away in there. Or perhaps not. Though I doubt one of you could carry Imoen there alone and defend yourself in case more of Sendai's forces venture this way…"

Solaufein swore, immediately pulling the small blue vial from his belt loop and preparing to pour it down Imoen's throat. "Haer'Dalis, check to see if Sarevok is telling the truth. If he is, I shall carry Imoen there and we will do our best to heal her. If not…"

"Then I expect there shall be a grand battle for the ages, should any of us live to tell the tale in the end… a possibility I begin to doubt, but who is to say?" Haer'Dalis finished with a grin, preparing to take off, only pausing once to stare at Sarevok as the warrior tightened up the straps of his Red Dragon armor and headed down to face his sibling. "Your cunning is impressive… how I look forward to seeing what Greywulf does with you once he learns of this treachery."

The tiefling's words only gave Sarevok a brief moment of pause- "Heh… if all goes as planned, it will not matter. The time of ascension grows near… to think I'd once given up on attaining the powers of Bhaal. History will regret overlooking Sarevok Anchev."

The words echoed behind him with more than a little arrogance… it was a bold statement and perhaps one with a bit more grandeur than was really necessary, but his time as a politician and the leader of the armies of the Gate had gifted him with a manner of… eloquence, that he mostly used for intimidation these days. Still, better to make your enemy think twice about confronting you- better to make them doubt themselves before you even drew your weapon, to strike a blow to their morale before the battle was even begun.

Maybe that was why it bothered Sarevok so much, that he knew for a fact Haer'Dalis had more than a few healing potions left… and that he didn't know why the tiefling had hid them as soon as Solaufein had realized Imoen yet lived. The bard was an enigma, and the very fact that he had gone along with Sarevok without a word unnerved him… why would he be so willing to play along with Sarevok's game? Maybe that was it, the bard's unceasing hunger for a good story? His thirst to see how this whole game played out in the end? Perhaps. Everyone had a weakness… Solaufein's was Imoen, obviously. Haer'Dalis' was curiosity. And Sarevok… Sarevok let a feral grin seep onto this face as he reached what could only be the door to Sendai's private chambers. His weakness? He had torn apart and eaten all weakness that might've lain within his soul. All he lacked was the true essence of a Bhaalspawn… something that would be erased with the death of Sendai. He was a mere mortal fighting amid demi-gods, after all. But that would change, very soon…

The doors creaked open to reveal a large circular chamber, laden with liquid metal pustules surrounding the outer edges of the room, small staircases raising them up in a full rotation around the room. It was a strange sight- one that almost overwhelmed Sarevok's senses as he walked into the room. He blinked twice, calmed himself, then forced his way through the haze of his vision. What looked like furniture- or at least it had once been furniture- was piled up in the middle of the room, set aflame like a blazing signal, or a challenge for those who entered. He let a smile cross his glinting features, light playing off his face with the dance of the flame. For a brief moment, he let his eyes rest closed- stretching out with all his senses, searching for the trap, the ambush… no. No ambush, it would seem- simple footsteps, a woman emerging from the shadows to face him. Sister against brother…

"You are not who I expected…" Sendai stood before Sarevok, a drow priestess, a drow warrior… a Bhaalspawn. Nothing else mattered. She stood in adamantine garb, a helmet covering her nose and allowing her red eyes to glint out- a large spider symbol with the Bhaal skull in the middle of it combined her two loyalties- one to the spider queen, one to her own perceived ascension. A large silver mace hung from one of her hands, a spiked tower shield rested on her other arm. "I had expected the Children of Bhaal, Imoen and Greywulf… oh yes, I know who you are, Sarevok."

"Should I be flattered? I think not." Sarevok smirked, watching his foe, standing on the other side of the flaming wood and stone. "Your defenses were impressive… a shame that you let it all go to waste. A true god would fight on the front lines, take the battle to his foe without fear or hesitation. You are nothing more than a coward. You do not deserve the essence of Bhaal."

If his challenge or insults did anything to Sendai's confidence, she did not show it. Her only response was a curl of the lip, a sneer at the impudence of this invader. "Bold words from one who is not even a Bhaalspawn any longer. Tell me, how did your killer buy your loyalty? Surely you did not let the so-called morals of Gorion's wards influence you? Or are you a puppet on a string, brought back to life for the price of being their personal attack dog?"

The insult might've struck true, had Greywulf not ignored the use of a Geas when resurrecting him… still a decision he could not fathom, but he was glad his brother had chosen it. His brother… he wondered just how Greywulf would react when learning of the goings on this day. Not well, he supposed. Still, there was no getting around it. The choice had been made. The last chance to reverse what Sendai mocked him for… to become a true Bhaalspawn once again. He grinned, a feral sight that actually unnerved Sendai, if only in the slightest. "Perhaps I am not a Bhaalspawn any longer… but that will change. Once I have killed you and murdered your soul, the Bhaal essence will flow to me. I have witnessed this, seen it happen- all my designs while I lived were based around becoming the Avatar of Murder- becoming the closest thing to Bhaal incarnate, such that all the essence of Bhaal would flow to me. I can do this again… starting with you. And once your soul is mine… the rest will follow. Whatever plans you and 'The Five' had… they are nothing. You are nothing."

"I… see." Sendai hesitated, and Sarevok exulted in her fear. The woman was already defeated… she just didn't know it yet. "And I suppose there is no chance of persuading you to join us? You would make a powerful ally… you cannot know the plans we have for the Throne."

"Hnh. As if I would deign to share power with the likes of you." Sarevok spat into the fire, letting his stance and center of gravity shift, preparing to strike in a matter of seconds. "There is only one other who I would ever consider my equal, who I could ever stomach the thought of siding with… at least until the final battle. It will be he and I atop the mountain of the gods, fighting for supremacy, as it has always been… you will not live to see it, sister. Enough talk. Face me and die!"

Sarevok roared and hurtled straight at the flaming monument in the center of the room, swiping downward with his sword- it was a move he was sure would catch Sendai off guard, expecting him to circle the room to get to her- with the Red Dragon scale he feared no heat, and it would put her off balance for the next strike of his blade. A perfect start to a quick battle… and yet, as he burst from the flames with hot embers swirling around his face and pieces of fiery wood clinging to his armor, Sendai rose above him, encased in magic as she looked down on him with disgust.

"Pathetic little man. I did not spend the lives of my army lightly… you thought to find me weak, here in my center of power? Such ritual magics take time… and my servants bought me all the time I needed. Meet your end!"

A flash of light nearly blinded Sarevok- he ducked his head and raised a forearm to shield his eyes- lightning blazed from the woman aloft in the center of the room and stretched out to brush the newly glowing pustules of liquid that encircled the room. As each one was touched by the lightning, it began warping, moving… distorting until a humanoid form burst from within, covered in embryonic fluid, a bizarre late birthing of something unholy… Sendai. Again and again and again, all around the room, the face of Sendai was upon every single non-entity that rose from their birthing pods, all clad in armor and bearing different weapons, all staring the Deathbringer down with no sign of intelligence or malice in their eyes- until the word came from the woman above them all. "Kill."

X

Pressure. Pressure unlike anything she'd ever experienced before… a fear building up within her that was growing increasingly hard to deny. Were it not for the presence of the others- a fact that sickened her when she thought on it too much- she might have panicked by now. No time for weakness, or fear… Viconia forced herself to focus on one thing, and one thing only. Continuing to swim, continuing to press forward and keep moving. Ignoring the fact that she had barely swam in her whole life. Ignoring the fact that pressure of the deep, the water that slid down her throat and out again with the same effect of oxygen due to the magics that protected her left her feeling like she was asphyxiating regardless. Her cloak was gone, too heavy to swim with, as was all metal armor that the group had been wearing. Only their weapons and leathers remained with them now… this was a descent into madness, one that she could scarce believe she was a part of. How had it come to this? Preparing to launch an amphibious assault on the remaining monks of Amkethran so that the dragons of Abazigal could break in and join the battle as well? She swallowed a mouthful of water, shuddering at the unpleasant feel of it filling her stomach, remembering too late that the spell giving her the ability to breathe underwater only applied to her nose. She mentally swore, promising herself that as soon as they got through this- if they got through this- she was done with these people. Never again would she let them drag her into something this insane. How had she agreed to any of this in the first place? Why hadn't she simply demanded they send her back after Greywulf had first summoned her and all the rest?

Up ahead of her, Saemon slowed his pace, allowing his body to float around to face them- he motioned with one hand towards a narrow passage in the rocks to their left- they were passing through some of the tunnels that comprised the well systems in the mountain side and would be approaching the large underground lake soon. Almost there. Almost… Viconia let her eyes flicker to Jaheira, to Minsc, both up ahead of her as well. Greywulf's stalwarts, the only two aside from Imoen who had been with him since the very beginning. At least for them, this journey made sense. Whatever loyalty they had for Greywulf ran deep… far too deep, if it had led them to this mess, truth be told. But still… she understood it, in a sense. The only people she'd ever known or even trusted to any extent were these… the only people who'd never betrayed her on the surface, who'd never hated her for her heritage or tried to take advantage of her because of it. Did that mean she owed Greywulf in some way? Was that why she allowed herself to get dragged into this whole mess?

Perhaps. Perhaps it was her way of clearing the debts she owed… just in that Greywulf was calling in the debt she owed him for saving her life twice-over. Yes… a simple service for service. Easy to think of in those terms… because if she let herself go beyond that, if she allowed herself to think of these people as more than just traveling companions, teammates, and as actual friends… the thought that they could all die here, in the next few moments became a bit too much for her to bear. No. There was no way that they were dying here, now. They'd come out of this alive, and she'd see that damnable half-elf again, let him know she'd done her part and paid her dues and that it'd be the last he'd see of her. She'd toss one more insult his way for his naïve attitude, flirt once more to infuriate the druid, then walk out of their lives forever. All they had to do was survive the next hour. Just survive. That was something she could do-

"Thanks for helping me with… all of this. It means a lot to me." Greywulf stood over Viconia as she gathered up the remainder of her belongings and stashed them in her pack as the entire group prepared to split up from his Pocket Plane. He was making one last pass to everyone, checking in with those he'd summoned, giving them one last out from the battles he was forcing them into. So guilt was eating at him already- how predictable. "You know, if you want to go back to… wherever you were, before all this, just say the word."

Viconia snorted, standing up and slinging her pack behind her, glaring balefully at the sorcerer. "Your lack of spine disgusts me at times, you know?"

"Yeah, but the power in my wake intrigues you." Greywulf chuckled, nodding as he bowed his head, folding his arms deep within the folds of his grey cloak. "And if Jaheira were next to me you'd say something else about how that was part of what draws you to me and then you'd do something all seductive with your eyes. I have a good memory Viconia… you've given me that line before."

Viconia paused, partially stunned and partially indignant- was she really that obvious or predictable? She finally settled with a bark of a laugh. "Perhaps you are not so foolish as I thought, then. I owe you a debt for everything you've helped me with since I came to the surface world. Consider this my way of repaying that debt. After this…"

"Then we're even?" Greywulf asked wryly. "Considering I've helped you avoid some racist idiots and you're helping me end a god-spawn war, I don't know if I'd consider it even, but as you say. Take care of yourself… and the others, will you? I know you're not exactly… friends, with them, and I know you're not used to traveling in groups, but just keep an eye out for them, will you? Surviving is what you do best, but this… with everything that's going to happen here in the next few days and weeks, survival won't be enough. You'll need to protect them, just as they'll need to protect you."

"I need protection from nobody-" Viconia started to growl, before Greywulf cut her off, growing strangely earnest in tone.

"Humor me then. Please… if you ever felt anything for me, whether that be gratitude, or even friendship, as much as you might want to deny it… please. Help keep them safe. They'll do the same for you."

She studied him for a moment, then raised her hood on her cloak and turned from him to join Aerie, Cernd, Jaheira and Minsc. "I shall… consider it."

The memory of her last conversation with Greywulf vanished from her mind as Viconia watched the world open up before her, the tunnels of the wells finally broadening as they entered the bottom of the underground lake inside the mountain- far above them, on the shores of the smuggler's den, their prey waited. And Viconia… she looked at the others, silently cursing Greywulf. Aerie already dead, Minsc's sanity lost to grief. Viconia would be damned if they lost anyone else before her.

Beside Viconia, Cernd swam, deliberately keeping his pace slow to stay alongside the drow in case something happened- she was certainly not used to swimming, but for him, it was as natural as the fish in the sea. The druid was perhaps the only one not discomfited by their trek underwater- all the others had lost weaponry or armor of some kind, but Cernd traveled light as it stood. His body was the weapon… or more accurately, the beast within him. Of all their group, the one most likely to struggle without his belongings would have been Minsc- the big ranger thrived on being in the middle of battle, armor heavy across his back as he swung a two handed sword through hordes of enemies. Here… he had one sword weighing him down, and an axe on each hip. Only his great strength allowed him that much weight, with no armor left to cover him one would think he'd be distressed. Unhappy. Instead… there was nothing. No anger, no rage, just the quiet intensity that had been so ever present since his last outburst on the surface. The ranger's soul was lost… would he regain it before the end? And would that end be his or that of his foes? If he knew the man better, he might try to offer some words of comfort, some measure of aid. To be fair, the only one here he knew with any familiarity was Jaheira- and that had been years prior.

She was, in many ways, a mirror of himself, a picture of what he could have been, had he chosen a path outside of the grove. Had he chosen to use his curse for good whenever possible, instead of only when necessary. Her fire and passion drew trouble like a moth to a flame- as much as he wished it otherwise, there was little chance of her ever coming to find peace in life. Not while she traveled with the Bhaalspawn. No, there was no chance of her dying with gray hair and wrinkled skin, laid to rest after years of peace. She would die with her spear or dagger in hand, surrounded by the bodies of those who had thought to terrorize the weak, those whose lives she'd ended before her own was taken. Would it be this day? Tomorrow? Perhaps. Or perhaps… perhaps he'd underestimated her, just as so many of her foes did.

Viconia… the hardest among them to gauge, to predict. Cernd felt he had a gift for telling where a person's path would lead them… Viconia's was shrouded in darkness. Perhaps it was the way with which she kept to herself, the armor she'd erected around herself to keep others from seeing anything more than the most base layers of her private self… she was much like Jaheira in that way, truth be told. Not that he would ever suggest it to either woman…

There… the surface of the lake grew brighter as they drew close to emerging from the water- Saemon was waving them back, wanting to be the first- and only- one of them to break the plane, to survey their approach into Balthazar's lair. It made sense tactically- the rogue was the only one who knew the layout well, and was definitely the stealthiest amongst them. Assuming he didn't choose to betray them, of course. How often had this one man burned those around him? Jaheira had told Cernd of Saemon's prior actions, back on Brynnlaw, back in Athkatla. The man was as much snake as human, and given half a moment of opportunity, he would sell them all if he thought it would save his skin. Would it be worth giving him the opportunity to do it to them again, here? The thought of slitting Saemon's throat as soon as they were established inside the cave had crossed Cernd's mind… though he was certain Minsc would have issues were his vengeance denied. No, for now, watching the swashbuckler would have to be enough. Something he could do… would have to do- Cernd noted as he swam silently upward, moving to position himself right by Saemon as the thief's head slowly, quietly broke the surface of the water, taking stock of their surroundings. They had arrived.

Saemon felt the magic of his amulet slowly fade as his head began slipping above the plane of water, stopping just at the top of his lips as he surveyed the scene, blinking water from his eyes and resisting all the urges to wipe water from his face for fear of disrupting the water and drawing attention. They were about fifty yards out from the shoreline, the only light coming from the flickering torches posted all around the smuggler's den. Dozens of crates and barrels were lining the shore and dock, each one representing several bags of gold he'd invested in his own little scheme here at Amkethran… now nothing more to him than something to hide behind and hope against hope he could survive this assault. Saemon watched the guards, the monks patrolling the large cavern- no sign of Balthazar, and while the monks were as alert as one might expect from members of their order, nobody seemed to be expecting anything from the water; there were nothing but backs facing their direction. Just as he'd hoped… at least, for now.

He dipped back below the water and motioned to the others, gesturing toward the shoreline and raising a finger to his lips, as though any of them needed any extra incentive to be as stealthy as possible. They had to tread lightly now- should the monks catch on to their presence before they could break the side of the mountain and loose Abazigal's forces on them… they'd be in for the fight of their lives. He paused a moment, reflecting on that idea- a statement both utterly ridiculous and completely true. The story of his life, perhaps. How many times could he get away with this sort of thing? Without his stone to provide a hasty exit, things were… more difficult. At least he had good motivation to see Balthazar dead; the others could count on him to be the first in line to kill the monk… if only to get his stone back. Once it was back in his possession, all bets were off. The Bhaalspawn could have their war, and he'd be glad to be rid of them all, if he could. Just a matter of finding it first, that was all.

Saemon surfaced first, beneath the wooden dock that extended over the underground lake, glancing upward to see if there was any sign of alarm from the monks patrolling around them- still nothing. Jaheira followed soon after, then Minsc, Cernd, and Viconia. The creaking of footsteps on the damp planks above them drove all of them to silence for several moments longer as a monk strode from the end of the pier back to the main shore- still no alarm. Saemon let himself sigh in relief, before lowering his voice as quietly as he could manage, hoping the gentle sound of water lapping back and forth on the rocks would help mask their words. It didn't take long to formulate their plan- none of them hesitated, none of them balked at the cold blooded killing that would commence should everything go as planned. Saemon reflected on how easy it came to all of them- the so-called heroes of the Gate. Perhaps the influence of the Bhaalspawn rubbing off on them? Or perhaps the luster and reputation of these men and women had outgrown the truth, as most legends did. They weren't all paladins, after all. Just men and women, pushed too far, willing to do whatever was necessary… and if he'd learned anything in his misadventures over the years, people would do terrible things when their backs were to the wall.

The first of them crawled up the rocks, being so very careful to avoid sending a slide of the pebbles into the water and blowing it all- there were several stacks of crates that were big enough to shield both Saemon and Viconia- across the other side of the pier, behind a tarp covered catapult- he'd been rather proud of smuggling that one in by boat- Minsc, Jaheira and Cernd took cover, waiting for their opportunity. A lone monk, wandering back out toward the pier- perhaps the same one who had paced above them prior, began heading their way. Saemon ducked back beneath the crates from his vantage point, then gestured to Viconia, counting silently with his fingers the seconds before he would pass by their location…three…two…one…

The moment his body came into view, one dagger went to the monk's throat while another slid directly into the man's side- Saemon yanked the dying man out of view before anyone noticed the blur of motion- a few gurgles and the life was gone from their foe, blood pooling beneath his open throat now. Saemon glanced up at Viconia- no hint of remorse in her eyes, as expected. The others… Minsc already had another man locked in his arms, sheer muscle keeping the monk from making a sound- not that he could, even if Minsc let him go. The first few seconds of pressure had collapsed the monk's windpipe, this was just making sure. Again, no remorse. Saemon wondered if Aerie had ever been quite so ruthless at killing…

As three of the five continued to slowly, carefully move from cover to cover, ending life with each encounter, Jaheira and Cernd remained by the covered catapult, ducked underneath the wide cloth blanket designed to keep the water from destroying the wood of the weapon. They both sat cross legged, facing one another with palms open, breaths in sync. Joining powers was not easy, especially for a feat this intense… balance was the key. Always balance… and yet, it was not so simple as that. Balance within oneself was one thing. Balance within two… that would be the hard part. Time to begin.

Cernd's features were calm, as always- an emotionless front to hide the storm of energy within whereas Jaheira let everything show, she was as nature unleashed, emotion filling her features, all the rage, the longing, the righteous anger she felt… all of it flitted across the surface of her face, witness to what lay beneath. And it was more than skin deep- Cernd could feel the love in her heart, the passion she felt for Greywulf. She'd given herself over to that love- so different from him, he was alone now, as he had been for some time. No room in his life for such a thing, not more than brief dalliances. Like the one he'd indulged with her, so long ago… and even more, it came faster and faster… memories of the grove, her choice to go and fight for what she believed in outside of their safe haven, his choice to remain, to fight himself, and the danger he felt within him. Her fury… his peace. Her passion… his serenity. Her ferocity… his temperance. Wisdom versus warfare, an unbridled stallion as opposed to a disciplined hunting hawk. They were two opposites, at balance within themselves, but together, they fed the balance as well… it was a relationship few could claim, and yet, it opened up such possibilities…

Their eyes opened simultaneously, each one seeing with the lens of the other. Their thoughts, their emotions, everything was bleeding together as one, a rush so wonderful and yet so terrible- there were no secrets, no barriers between the two druids in this state- Cernd knew immediately how much Jaheira feared losing those she cared about, knew all the scars, wounds and guilt she felt for those she'd lost already. He saw her in her most open, most raw form… just as she saw him. Saw the self-doubt, the self loathing for what he was underneath. Saw how much he longed to be rid of the wolf, yet could never bring himself to lose it completely. She saw him, felt him… and together, the two became one. Hot and cold, opposing forces, all connected as one… in perfect balance.

Balthazar stalked out into the main cavern, back from the opening where they'd dumped the allies of the Bhaalspawn- he'd hoped to have seen some signs of battle, some way to tell whether or not his plan had worked. Perhaps he was being impatient, or foolish… he knew that Abazigal wasn't dead- he could sense the half-dragon's essence, just as the dragon could do with him. The beast wouldn't leave until he had killed the monk… but had his assassins already attempted their strike, and failed? He had the makings of another plan, but wasting the lives of his monks was abhorrent- too many innocents had died already. The power, the influence of Bhaal was a terrible thing to behold- the balding young man took stock of his men, the preparations they were making for an inevitable assault. Two ballistas pointed at either entrance of the smuggler's den, spiked blockades jutting from the rocky ceilings to keep the dragons as grounded as possible. The catapult off to the side by the lake, covered- still? Balthazar frowned- that was one of their few remaining siege weapons, it should have been one of the first items set up. His brown cloak flowed gently behind him as he stalked towards the covered siege weapon- the first sign that something was amiss was the splotch of blood just barely visible on the lakeside portion of the cloth blanket- his eyes narrowed as he immediately went to check… no body. But over there… now that he was looking, a small streak of red along some of the barrels across the pier, and… that slight hum. What was it? Coming from the cloth covering the catapult… Balthazar swore and sprinted for the catapult- a blade came out from nowhere, aimed directly for his neck- only the reflexes of a monk saved him from decapitation as he allowed himself to drop to his knees and roll to a crouch, looking upward at the sight of Minsc, blood smeared across his arms and hands as he emerged from nowhere- the stealth skills of a ranger, never to be underestimated.

The monk wasted no time with foolish banter, challenges or the like; if the big ranger was here then so were the others, and heaven only knew how long they'd been in here already, but however they'd gotten in it wasn't going to- Balthazar heard the sound of water bubbling behind him, and knew exactly where another attack was coming from. He lunged sideways from his crouch, hearing the sound of a feral roar and a gush of water erupt as Viconia burst from the lake and landed her mace right where Balthazar had been a moment ago- back behind the drow, Balthazar could see the bodies of several dead monks floating in the water, drifting out from beneath the dock pier where his foes had undoubtedly hid them until Viconia's leap had stirred the lake surface so violently.

Only now were his monks and guards taking note of the attack- one was already lining up a shot on Minsc, but the ranger either didn't notice or didn't care- he kept moving at Saemon with an unquenchable bloodlust in his eyes. Balthazar scrambled to get his footing, keeping Minsc in view but ever at guard for another attack- there, bursting out from the shadows within the crates and barrels all stacked up near the west cavernside, Saemon Havarian. The man had far outlived his usefulness… Balthazar turned and ran straight for the rogue, who was already lunging with his rapier, causing the monk to sidestep and come around in a flywheel kick that knocked Saemon aside, stumbling back into pile of the crates he'd been hiding behind.

The archer who'd lined Minsc up with a shot could have pegged him easily- Viconia made sure he didn't. An Unholy Blight was enough to bring the mercenary to his knees, along with two other monks rushing in to engage the others- but if Minsc didn't start growing some situational awareness, she wouldn't be able to protect him forever. The drow rushed ahead of the ranger, driving her mace around to deflect a sword, then whispered the words to a Harm spell as she lunged out with her other hand, draining the life from the guardsman and leaving him a writhing corpse as she kicked him away. Another monk was coming to Balthazar's aid, this one ready for her- he drove a flat palm to the side to shunt aside her mace, then spun around to deliver a kick squarely to her chest- without any armor plating, the impact sent her flying backward, nearly to the shoreline again. She struggled to get to her feet, wincing in pain- no. She wasn't going down after one damned kick… not like this…

She spat a curse and drug the mace from the water up at the approaching monk, not to hit him, just to bring a torrent of water with it- the splash did enough to blind her foe; she dove at him and slammed the pommel of her mace into the monk's mouth, again and again until the handle dripped with blood. Viconia stood, trying to breathe through the pain- several other monks had seen her savagery and were circling her now, on guard before attacking. This wasn't looking good… to hell with it. Viconia spat a mix of blood, saliva and water at them again and charged them all.

Minsc stalked toward Balthazar with single-minded determination, everything focused on this one man… he was part of it. Part of why Aerie was dead- the monk had just floored Saemon, prepared to finish the job- not enough time. He saw Minsc approaching- Balthazar's movements were serpentine, his body flowing from one stance to another. With one move the brown cloak was tossed aside, revealing his dirty brown gi underneath- he dropped to a low stance, waiting for Minsc to make the first move- the ranger remained silent, bringing the Silver Sword down in an overhead swing with all the fury he could muster. His speed was incredible- the ranger's sword met air as Balthazar ducked out of the way, his entire body moving like water as he came up at Minsc's side, already moving one arm in a straight palm strike to counter Minsc's backhand, followed by a punch to the ranger's side. A rib cracked with the impact- Minsc barely slowed, dropping the massive broadsword as his hand dropped to his side, unholstered Stonefire from a sheath and razed Balthazar's side with it. The sudden attack was almost quick enough to cut the monk's side wide open. As it was, Balthazar grunted with pain as the magic flame of the axe left his side scorched and burnt, Minsc's arms becoming a whirling onslaught as he brought both Stonefire and Frostreaver down upon Balthazar time and again, the monk focused entirely on deflecting and dodging the attacks coming his way, one after another- the big man would not stop. His rage was palpable- Balthazar spotted another monk moving to help- a flying kick to Minsc's head sent the ranger stumbling aside- he disengaged, looking breathlessly for the others. Viconia was staggering back and forth, engaged in a duel with two other monks, all three of them knee deep in water, bolts of dark magic sending gushes of water into the sky as the drow cleric weaved her spells. Saemon… the swashbuckler was gone? No longer in the pile of broken crates where he'd left him, the man had vanished-

Balthazar grunted as Saemon came flying out of nowhere, tackling the monk to the ground, blinking away a punch to his jaw as the two ended up in a roll across the ground, Saemon atop him, a knife drawn and at Balthazar's throat. "Now then, you twice-damned god-spawn pest! You'll hand over that stone you took from me and do it right quick if you know what's good for you! Where is it-"

Balthazar sneered, taking the opportunity- for all of Saemon's bluster, his speed was no match for a monk's. He'd already gathered both palms around and cupped them, clapping on both of Saemon's ears. The man tumbled away, screaming in pain as he clutched his bleeding ears- Balthazar rolled to his feet and kicked Saemon in the side, knocking him to the ground again with ease. "Fool. You would abandon your weapon to face me hand to hand? When you do gain a slight advantage, you choose to focus on your precious stone? You truly care about nothing but yourself, do you?"

"Heh… heh, nah, I found my stone. Knew you'd be keeping it on ya in case I managed to sneak back in. Snagged that when we were takin our little tumble- oldest pickpocketing trick in the book." Saemon managed through a wince and a grin, holding up his stone as he prepared to activate its magic, a flash of light appearing behind him. "And as a bonus… I got to delay you a few seconds longer too… owed the rest o' them that much."

Balthazar hesitated, before his eyes flashed wide, understanding what had just taken place. The catapult was still covered. He had been ambushed as soon as he had investigated that area. The hum emitting from within the cloth covering… there were two of the group not among those fighting. Before he could speak, a boom of magic echoed from the catapult- green light erupted from underneath the cloth, disintegrating as Jaheira and Cernd's forms were made visible, both kneeling and their hands planted firmly in the ground- and as the light shone brighter and brighter around them, the cavern began shaking. Echoing. Crumbling with the power that the druids wielded… and Balthazar understood. The entire chamber was being brought down. The entire mountainside… "No!"

Balthazar sprinted towards the two druids, even as Saemon smirked, preparing to take his leave. That would be it then…they could handle themselves… the sound of Viconia crying out in pain as a monk's fist sent her slamming back into the water, mace dropping to the lake's bottom with a thud, caught his attention. Behind him, he heard Minsc's enraged shouts as he tore into the monks who were piling atop him, trying desperately to quell the madman. Nobody was there to intercept Balthazar as he moved to end Cernd and Jaheira. It… it wasn't his fight. He'd done his part. Time to go. Simple as that… the visage of Aerie haunted him one last time. Saemon hesitated…

Balthazar darted back and forth between falling rock as the mountainside above them split and sundered, cursing himself for letting the pirate distract him. If the mountain didn't bury them, the dragons would know exactly where they were and have full access… this was their plan. The plan of a madman… and it would bring him to utter ruin. Everything he'd fought for, everything he'd sacrificed would be in vain. It would *not* happen. Not while he still drew breath- Balthazar ducked under one falling stalactite, weaved around another, then leapt, one arm back as he prepared to bring it down into Jaheira's skull and crush it- another blinding light erupted beside the druids, led by a rapier that was just quick enough. Balthazar felt his body shudder with pain, even as he swung his arm around to intersect the new threat…

Balthazar's entire body stiffened, a tearing, burning pain in his side- looking down, he saw Saemon's rapier sticking through the lower right of his torso, coming out the back... even as his right fist remained embedded deep in Saemon's chest cavity. The rogue's face flushed with the shock of the deathblow, but still that damned grin, as forced as could be, but still there. Saemon laughed once, blood coming up and spattering his lips and chin. "Gah… eh… damn you're quick."

Saemon slumped off of Balthazar's fist, collapsing to the ground as the monk staggered to the right, trying to gather his wits and finish off Cernd and Jaheira- too late. The druidic magics were done- and with their completion, a shockwave erupted around them and sent both Balthazar and Saemon rolling away, even as the entire mountainside above them erupted into the air, like a volcano belching its contents into the skies. Balthazar raised his hands to avoid the oncoming hail of dirt and debris, only barely hearing Saemon's choked gurgles as he expired, lying beside the wounded monk. "Heh. Gotcha…"

Balthazar dragged himself to his feet, clutching the slim puncture wound in his side that was leaking blood like a sieve- he tried desperately to focus his inner power, summoning Wholeness of Body to close the wound he had suffered- even as the spirit magic he controlled began to heal his wounds, the roar of a hurricane descended upon the cavern, and Balthazar knew it was too late. A blaze of lightning scorched the earth along with three unfortunate monks, leaving charred skeletons to blow away in the wind as Abazigal descended into the cavern, his massive blue wings outstretched from tip to tip of the inner cavern as it had once been, before looking down at Balthazar with a toothy, wicked grin.

"Well well… what have we here?"

X

Across the plains of Amn, there were several keeps and holds scattered through the plains- some designed for trade and commerce, others for farming and supporting the livelihoods of the peasants ruled under the Lords and Ladies of said lands. None had a more unsettling recent history than the De'Arnise lands, and the keep at the center. From the troll-led invasion that claimed the life of the late Lord William De'Arnise, leaving his daughter Lady Nalia as the ruler, to the orc attacks spearheaded by the red dragon Firkraag- the lands and her people and been battered, bruised, but endured, in the end. Nalia's reign had been fair, if firm-handed… they were enjoying some semblance of peace, even if there was a sense of foreboding, a feeling that there was another threat, another danger just waiting to strike. Even Nalia's guardmen, her most trusted Captain of the guard, Cernick- all of them felt it. Maybe it was her lady's fervent search for more powerful artifacts and spells- a quest on the verge of obsession. All for the purpose of protecting her people, she claimed… but from what? This… 'Twisted Rune' Nalia claimed was hunting her? Truthfully, for all the foreboding, there was no real example or warning of danger that anyone could find… and so the people of the lands De'Arnise continued their lives much as they had always… until this day.

The grassy meadows and fields that surround the borders of the De'Arnise were mostly flat, easy traveling and allowing for a quick hike if need be- few wolves or orcs threatened the farms and outer houses. Maybe that was why the orc invaders of days past had found it so easy to simply march to the front door of the Keep. After this day… there would be no incursions. No attacks. No man or beast would ever enter the De'Arnise lands unbidden again- the earth itself split open as large, concrete walls shot from the ground, ten meters thick and spotted every hundred paces with guard towers, each one manned by unsleeping, unblinking golems armed with longbows and crossbows. At the center of each wall mass stood a catapult, all unfailingly ready to fire and protected by air elementals. The wall rose higher and higher, standing taller than any spire in Athkatla, blotting out the sun for those farms too close to the fortifications. Farmers and their children stared in shock and awe at the rising stonework, appearing from the earth as if by magic… as awed as they were frightened, unknowing whether these walls were meant to keep things out, or to keep them in…

But it was not enough. Even as the ground around the edges of the outer walls burrowed itself out and filled with a moat, another circle of walls arose, separating the inner farms from the outer farms- this one composed of wrought iron, blackened from the fires of the earth, spiked and manned with ballistas every fifty paces along the walkways above. A moat of fire erupted all around its base… and still, it was not enough.

The De'Arnise Keep itself… it began shaking, shuddering, walls splintering and crumbling apart as godly power rewrote the very fiber of it's being- those inside ran and hid, trying to find some relief or safety from this sudden intrusion into their world. Captain Cernick looked up at the shattering glass, the crumbling stonework in the Throne Room, wondering if Lady Nalia's questing for power had led to this final, nonsensical end- and he would have been right, had she allowed it to end this way. But this was not an end, it was a beginning… the Throne Room's stonework crumbled away to reveal marble and diamond beneath- all the wood rotted to reveal obsidian. The seat of power itself exploded and was replaced by a throne of diamond- each wall was gold covered, every handle and mechanism now encased in a precious stone. Emeralds, rubies and pearls- all of it was scattered like dust through the De'Arnise Keep- the men who served and protected screamed as they themselves found their bodies morphing, changing until each one was a twenty foot tall adamantine golem, shrouded in magical runes and untiring, unceasing in their new positions. Others vanished into mist, reforming as ethereal spirit guardians… and Cernick, faithful Cernick- he clutched his chest and hunched over in pain, as his skin ripped and tore, replaced with massive scales as he became an emerald dragon, roaring with equal parts fury and submission as his mind warped, growing completely loyal to his mistress.

Flawless guardians, impenetrable defenses. The lands and armies of De'Arnise were the greatest in Faerun- nobody would threaten them ever again. Her lands were nobody's equal- her power was second to none. Lady Nalia de'Arnise smiled as she watched the transformation of her lands, the rising of her people- just one more detail. Nalia lifted a finger, pointing at the vision of her Keep- then nodded in approval as the Keep itself rose from the ground, becoming a palace in the sky- streams began flowing from the base, trickling down to form a pool of crystals and diamonds in the crater where her Keep had once sat… a fitting home for the realm's new protector… it's new goddess…

Nalia stood from the Miracle Machine, letting her newfound power sink in… so easy. So simple to do now… she was more than a sorceress. More than any mortal- beyond all of these trinkets and items Greywulf had taunted her about. She simply thought… and then she simply was. All the items and clothes and enchantments she'd been relying on vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by robes made from spun starlight, garments soaked and drenched in the cosmic sentience itself. She was more and more now… beyond the sphere of mortals, growing beyond the spheres of gods- 'Nalia' was barely enough to even contain the fullness of what she represented…

Reynald squinted into the blinding glory of the being that sat several dozen feet away- was it still Nalia? Or something else entirely… truth be told, he couldn't tell. Nor could he truly bring himself to care, really… it was all too late now. Too late for his hopes, his aspirations at redeeming his ignoble expulsion from the paladins. Too late to find some sort of meaning through glory or honor or love… Reynald tore away his focus from Nalia and pushed it back to Anomen, the cleric turning pale with the spear wound he had endured. Reynald's healing potions were exhausted- Anomen's were gone as well. He had some bandages, a few basic medical supplies, but there was little he could do for the cleric at this point. If he'd still possessed his abilities as a paladin… if he'd seen Nalia's descent into madness… if he'd been stronger willed, kept on guard instead of letting himself fall to her magics and charms… "Nalia!" Reynald screamed, scrambling to his feet, trying to see through the blinding light of his failure, trying to see through his tears. "Stop this! Stop this, please!"

No response… was he so worthless, so below notice? No… not this time. He had to make amends… the last few years of his life had been so drenched, so steeped in failure… he would not go down like this. Not without a fight- Reynald grabbed the Impaler from the ground, hefted it and charged the… being, before him. Reynald felt his body repelled, blinded and burned by the power radiating from Nalia- his charge stopped just shy of the woman, unable to get closer for fear of being disintegrated by the sheer power. He thrust the Impaler forward, praying the magic could withstand Nalia's power and do the job- the spear tip extended, and scraped the top of Nalia's hand.

A wave of intense power burst from the Miracle Machine, sending Reynald flying through the air, slamming against the marble wall across the room, plastered there and unable to move as Nalia finally stood, as though seeing the man, the gnat, for the first time.

"You… you dare? After all I have done, all that I am? You would dare choose to strike against me?" Nalia bellowed, eyes alight with blinding white flame. "I have made safe my lands, and would've made safe all of Faerun next! The Bhaalspawn wars would end, the entirety of the lands of Aber-Toril would have been mine to protect. And you! You could've been my loyal soldier, my most trusted guardsman…"

"Would I? You… you had not even noticed me… until I struck you." Reynald managed, words coming slow and thick as he tried to force them from his rapidly compressing lungs, trying desperately to free himself from the invisible force pinning him to the wall but to no avail. "Like a mosquito… ugh… pricking a giant… you only take notice of those you… you considered your frien-"

Nalia shouted, her voice echoing through the room as a visible wave of power, crushing Reynald again, denting his armor inward as he screamed with the sudden pressure of metal intruding against flesh. "Be silent! You think you know what it is to be ascend, to see things so clearly for the first time? You… all of you are so small, and for me to direct my attention to any of you is more than you deserve!"

"The others… Anomen… Greywulf… they are dying." Reynald whispered, trying to keep talking, aware of another rib cracking in his chest, feeling it puncture a lung as the bone splintered completely. "Look… look what you have done to your… ghh…lands… your people-"

Nalia spun, facing the ethereal image of the De'Arnise lands she had summoned to watch her powers unfold… her eyes widened in disbelief as firestorms descended across the entirety of the De'Arnise borders and left nothing but scorched earth and burnt bodies; men and women screamed, running to find refuge but there was none to be had. Nalia raised a hand, mentally commanding the fire to vanish, to dissipate- winds picked up and pushed the fire back into the heavens, only to swirl together and form massive tornadoes that ripped across the farmland, picking up livestock, houses, people, mixing and jumbling them in cyclones of dirt and wind that annihilated everything in their path. Nalia swore, clasping her hands together, letting power radiate from her body, channeling it to the whole of her countryside- a blast of magic beamed down from the heavens, impacting the epicenter of each tornado, a pulse that left thousand foot deep craters where they had landed, expanding outward to collapse the tornadoes, even as the shockwaves flattened the walls she'd erected and tore down any remaining buildings that were left standing.

"You… you cannot control it, Nalia… the power is beyond you… you must stop…" Reynald whispered, feeling the blood beginning to rise in his throat, even as the power holding him to the wall disappeared, letting him slide to the floor.

Nalia ignored his words… he was wrong! She was a goddess! This shouldn't have been happening- it was… The Machine! She had removed herself from it, she just needed to get back, that was all. She rushed to the Throne, sat down and resumed her control, trying to bring order back to the lands of her home- the walls that had been collapsed began rebuilding themselves, stone flying from the ground to restore the holes… along with wood, dirt, grass, people, bodies… everything around began solidifying to make a macabre corpse wall of death- Nalia screamed in frustration as the entire structure surrounding the de'Arnise lands exploded, pieces of it flying for miles in every direction. This… this wasn't happening! She had the power, she had the control… what was wrong?! It had all been there for her to manipulate, to control… why couldn't she simply focus- Nalia screamed in terror and defiance as the Keep began falling from the sky, hurtling toward the earth at a velocity so great that nothing on Faerun could stop it- nothing but a goddess. She could keep it afloat- of all things she could save her home… Nalia raised her hands as though to grip the Keep, to catch it in midair- all her efforts did was send it spinning, rotating as it flew through the air, bouncing back and forth this way and that as her power sent it ricocheting from one end of the lands to the other, but always down, down, down- it finally impacted the ground, shattering with the sound of a thousand crystals breaking, of diamonds turning to coal as everything she had worked for was undone before her eyes.

Nalia froze in place… the world grew silent as she surveyed the complete devastation of her lands- she reached out with her senses… nothing. No heartbeats. No signs of life. Every living thing that had once resided in the De'Arnise lands was now, completely and utterly dead. Gone. Nalia threw her head back, her body trembling… her howl of anguish echoed through the chamber of the gods, shaking everything- and slowly, the world followed suit. Everything began to tear and fade, life and reality itself undone beneath the anguish of this one woman, unready to be more than just that- "Nalia… you have to let it go. Please…"

Nalia's blinding red features whirled down to face Reynald, expiring before her eyes… blood leaking from his mouth as he struggled to speak, knowing these words would be his last, her unfettered power already shaving skin and blood and muscle from him, exposing the bone underneath. "Do… do something good with it all… one last thing. Then… then end it…"

Nalia watched as Reynald's head slumped down, and she could *feel* it as the spark of life within him fled- she looked around at the world, the fabric of reality cracking under her power… and there. So small… the lives of two more, Greywulf and Anomen, both barely hanging on, their sparks almost gone as well as her power started to slip their way, started to rend their bodies as well- even now she could barely focus on it, her mind pulled in too many directions at once… and now she understood. The items, the trinkets she'd discarded once attaining her power… they were all that had given her the capacity, the ability to come so far. They were all that had given her the ability to control the Miracle Machine… and now they were gone. Banished from existence on a whim… and it was too late. Her every wandering thought and feeling was made real by the machine… a stray irritation became a thunderbolt, a whispered rebuke became a tsunami. Maybe she could summon them back? Regain control- just the thought of it caused piles of amulets and charms to fluctuate into and out of vision, unchained to this reality and unstable in form. It was no good- All existence was in peril while she held this power… too late to save her lands, too late to save Reynald… but maybe not all reality. Nalia focused all her energy, all her focus into one last thought, one last wish… one last miracle.

Anomen began to push himself up, barely able to stand in the midst of the wind buffeting him- his wound was closed? His energy, his strength, returned? He raised an arm to shield himself, grasping the Impaler off the ground to use it as a brace- he spotted Greywulf pulling himself up as well across the grand hall, all of it now a scene of devastation as the pillars and walls disintegrated and turned to dust… and there in the center, Nalia. No longer as bright and shining as the sun, but simply curled up in what had once been her royal robes, now tatters and rags on her form- a scared eye caught a glimpse of Anomen's gaze; she turned to face him, and Anomen knew in one terrible instant what was coming. Nalia whispered something through her tears, too quiet to hear over the rush of power, but her lips were easy enough to read. "I'm so sorry…"

As the last wish was made through the Machine of Lum the Mad, the seal of Helm upon the floor cracked, and the portal to the final level of Watcher's Keep erupted open; the god-thought box shook itself apart, opening a portal to somewhere… anywhere that was not this realm. Perhaps to the heavens? Perhaps to the hells? Maybe nowhere at all, an infinite limbo of nothingness- Anomen shouted Nalia's name, but the machine and everything around it was compressed into a marble sized ball of energy, sucked through the vortex to elsewhere. Reynald's body slid across the floor and was dragged into the vortex as well, even as Greywulf and Anomen held desperately onto the remnants of two pillars around the room, trying to stay within this accursed Keep- as the black hole of possibility finally collapsed in on itself, booming outward, the sky darkened, the light dimmed, and all that was left was blackness… and one single source of light.

An unending void and a single blue portal emblazoned with the Eye of Helm, beckoning them ever onward, ever forward. After everything they'd lost, everything endured… it wasn't over. Not yet. Greywulf glanced at Anomen, and the other returned his gaze- what could be said? What *should* be said? Neither had the words… they could only move onward, disappearing from view as quickly as Nalia and Reynald had done so.

X

Howls echoed through the void as green light swirled and gently fed into the energy pillars supporting the abyssal fortress of murder at the Throne of Bhaal itself. In the center of it all, at the seat of power, Amelyssan sat, watching the frantic battle unfold between Sarevok and Sendai, watching steel sing and cut, ending the manufactured lives of Sendai again and again as the Deathbringer lived up to his name in every way possible.

The former priestess of Bhaal sneered, letting armored fingers tap the armrest of her bloody throne- letting thought itself control her view as the images she witnessed grew lifesize, ethereal in the midst of her citadel's heart. Behind her, lurking in the shadows was the mad mage Irenicus, also witnessing the fury of Sarevok as he cut down 'Sendai' time after time, taking blows from magic and mace and knife, yet continuing to fight on, his bloodlust and rage tempered by a skill so very few could truly match.

Amelyssan's eyes lit up as she saw the last of Sendai's clones falter- and the woman herself descend from the ceiling of her enclave, fear in her eyes, trying to hide it as she faced down the Butcher of the Gate. She laughed as Sendai spoke bold words, made taunts and threats she would never be able to back up- Sarevok's predatory grin said it all. Irenicus folded his arms and stepped forward beside Amelyssan as she witnessed the fury of a Deathbringer unleashed- one cut, then another. Sendai's mace fell from her severed hand and she fell to her knees, screaming curses and epithets at Sarevok… all before her head rolled across the floor, never coming to a stop before her entire body began to dissipate into the essence of Bhaal.

Amelyssan watched as Sarevok eyed the ethereal power hungrily, expectantly… and with the simple curl of her finger, the essence faded into the depths of the earth, already traversing the Realms to end up here, in the pools of Bhaalspawn essence that ran beneath her floating fortress of death. She smirked as Sarevok spun in place, shouting with rage, his anger blazing to the heavens as he threw his head back and howled in disbelief, in terrible, maddening fury.

Amelyssan waved the image away, closing her eyes and smiling as she sensed the return of Sendai's essence to the Throne- she'd been careful to keep the channels of the Throne open whenever one of the children might die… it wouldn't do to let another portion of essence slip away like Gromnir's had done… and unfortunately for Sarevok, she had no intention of letting him regain a full portion of the taint. But seeing his rage, his all-consuming desire for that power… Amelyssan's thoughts were interrupted by Irenicus, the elven outcast snorting in obvious contempt. "So this was the man who nearly conquered the Throne. A fine warrior, to be sure, but I fail to see what makes him so special. We should kill him now and be done with it. Greywulf's strength lies in his allies, the more we slay before he faces us, the better."

"You have no imagination, dear Irenicus." Amelyssan purred, turning to face her resurrected servant. "That Sarevok fights for Greywulf at all is nothing short of a miracle… and you of all people should not underestimate Gorion's wards. He is guided by the hand of prophecy, something even I cannot hope to break. He will find his way to the Throne, of that I have no doubt. It is fated… only here will I be able to slay him and the others, and solidify my rule as the new Lord of Murder. Sarevok could've been a powerful ally at one point in time- who is to say he will not be mine, just as you are, in the days to come?"

Irenicus folded his arms as Amelyssan closed the vision with a clenching of the fist, her long cloak billowing behind her as she departed to re-immerse herself in the essence of Bhaal, to claim more of the god-power for herself in preparation for the final battle. Sarevok. Greywulf. Imoen… Irenicus mulled the triumvirate over in his mind again and again, letting Amelyssan's words ring in his scarred thoughts. Perhaps Amelyssan had forgotten how long Irenicus had spent with Greywulf's soul… that he knew the half-elf intimately, more so than any other in Faerun. Irenicus was a servant of no-one… and perhaps, neither was Sarevok. "We shall see…"