Years have passed since the Time of Troubles saw its end. The Forgotten Realms have seen the great gods that rule it combat each other as fiercely powerful and heavily rivaled deities clashed. In the end, many old gods fell, and a few mortals achieved godhood, becoming new gods. One such god who died was Bhaal, the evil deity of murder and death. However, this god foresaw his own death. To prevent his death from erasing his identity completely, Bhaal set in motion a plan to infect a select number of eventual newborns with his taint, effectively making them his spawn, all of them capapble of one day succeeding him in godhood. His plan worked.

Now, with the little-known emergence of the Bhaalspawn comes a new time of trouble, a period in which animosity will arise, and war will threaten to take hold of the Sword Coast. And in the middle of it all is bound a young, infernal-touched ousider...one who will one day discover his identity and realize his true purpose. So begins the tale of Damien Stormraven, feared rogue of Faerun.

Heart of Murder: Slayer Stormraven

Chapter 3: The Hin, the Wizard, and an Unfolding Mystery

The rain continued to pour in moderation as Damien Stormraven continued on his way from Candlekeep, having disposed of a certain annoyance. Personally, he thought to himself, I would've enjoyed offing Gorion myself, though I doubt I'd've had the capability by the time we'd've reached shelter. He did have power, but nothing else...but, at least I got some fun out of today anyway. He stopped his walking a moment to look at his swords, which remained largely unclean. Both blades had plenty of bloodstains on them, enough that they outweighed the manufactured steel look that was their original color. Damien licked his lips as he stared at the bloody weapons. He had no idea why at all, but seeing the crimson that decorated those weapons...there was something enticing and energizing about it, as though the swords looked BETTER with the blood on them. He seemed to get a renewed urge to kill just looking at them.

I'm sorry you feel that way, old man.

Those words, spoken by the vicious warrior from last night...they echoed in Damien's head. Each and every one was uttered with total confidence, though arrogance laced them as well. That armored man was certain of his victory; to him it must have seemed as possible as the sun rising this morning. The thief broke his gaze from the swords, sheathing them. That confidence, that ferocity, that indomitable power the fighter showed last night...

Was that what true power was?

Damien would have to keep all of the prior night in mind. While it was technically a loss for the side he was on, he still gained plenty from it. That villainous person certainly showed off power unlike anything the rogue had seen, and he never had to cast a single spell for it. Stormraven wasn't sure what it was, but he felt he had to have it; that strength, that tenacity, that driving force that would let him dominate just about anyone who opposed him. A sadistic grin came to his face; though that mystery swordsman was without a doubt his enemy, he was also more than likely the sort of person who knew about such power. Whatever it took, Damien would get any secret, any ability he had, to get at that power held by the man who was more than he seemed...

Of course, the rogue needed a name to fit that guy first. Unfortunately, he was sure he was nowhere near such information, especially with the old wizard six feet under. His dreams dashed yet still faintly alive, he was ready to move out once more. Before he did, though, he couldn't help but take one more look at Imoen's body. He turned around and got a good look over everything, just to be sure it was for real. It was; her body never moved, never wavered. For a moment, I thought it rather hard to believe I cut you down so easily, little girl, he spoke mentally to her fallen form, as though taunting her spirit. However, it seems that you were not as strong as your training led me to believe. A pity it was to see you die in such quick fashion. To be honest, I probably would have let you join me at least part of the way if you'd shown some backbone. You had the talent, but you didn't have the passion, the drive, the inner urge to kill me, and for that, you lost. And to think that Gorion had such faith in you! Alas, that faith was evidently misplaced, seeing he put it towards a girl who had nothing more to do than show up her peers, act like some jovial nut, and spend time poking into people's affairs, let alone letters. The thief, losing interest in what was left of such an easily slain foe, decided once again to head off, then just as quickly stopped himeself.

Wait a second, Damien thought, his memory in action. She told me she'd gotten Gorion's letter...she'd found it off his body, for me...then if he was carrying it...information! Eagerness filling him quickly, the thief dashed back over to Imoen's rapidly cooling remains and grabbed her pack. Digging around, he found another blue bottle, a white-colored bottle, and a piece of paper rolled up and tied. A healing potion and an oil of speed, he noted to himself as he examined the bottles. Definitely useful. He bagged them in his own pack, then began unfurling the letter. Alright, old man, let's see what you've been hiding from me. Once opened, his eyes began going over the written words.

Please forgive the abruptness with which I now write, but time is short and there is much to be done. What we have long feared may soon come to pass, though not in the manner foretold, and certainly not in the proper time frame. As we both know, forecasting these events has proved increasingly difficult, leaving little option other than a leap of faith. We have done what we can for those in thy care, but the time nears when we must step back and let matters take what course they will. We have, perhaps, been a touch too sheltering to this point.

Despite my desire to remain neutral in this matter, I could not, in good conscience, let events proceed without some measure of warning. The other side will move very soon, and I urge thee to leave Candlekeep this very night, if possible. The darkness may seem equally threatening, but a moving target is much harder to hit, regardless of how sparse the cover. A fighting chance is all that can be asked for at this point

Should anything go awry, do not hesitate to seek aid from travelers along the way. I do not need to remind thee that it is a dangerous land, even without our current concerns, and a party is stronger than an individual in all respects. Should additional assistance be required, I understand that Jaheira and Khalid are currently at the Friendly Arm Inn. They know little of what has passed, but they are ever thy friends and will no doubt help however they can.

Luck be with us all.

I’m getting too old for this.

-E.

"So," Damien said to himself as he finished reading. "The old man did know about all this. Sounds like someone else, this 'E' or whoever, may have known about trouble coming for him...and me, probably...and sent him word to get out while he still could." He glanced over in the direction he had ran from the night before. "Well, a fat lot of good that did him," he remarked, rolling his eyes. "Still, my suspicions about Gorion knowing and not telling were true, but other than that..." With an irritated sigh, he tore the note into pieces and scattered them on the ground. "Guess it's off to this Friendly Arm Inn, then...against my better judgement, anyway," he muttered, annoyed. Nonetheless, he began walking west, following the path away from Candlekeep.

Damien managed a few more feet before yet another event caught his eye: it appeared to be something hiding behind a tree. According to what he saw, this thing was shaking, even as it hid. However, it's attempt at hiding was amateur; the size of that curious object was much bigger than the thin tree it tried to hide behind. Plus, it appeared to be shaking for some reason. Now this, he thought, is an oddball sight.

After some deductions, Damien had a guess; it was a rather obese person who had seen him kill Imoen. He wasn't for certain, though, and there was only one way to find out. He whipped out a throwing knife, aimed carefully, and threw it, hitting the tree. The loud splinter crack from the sound threw the object from its hiding place with a yelp. Damien smiled as he saw that his first guess had been correct. The fat man, who was still trembling, got up to his feet, looking at the thief the whole time. "I...I s-saw what you d-d-did to her," the man stammered, pointing at Stormraven accusingly. "You...you'll p-p-pay for that! The F-Flaming Fish-er, FIST! Yeah, they'll d-deal with you!"

The rogue cocked an eyebrow. "The...Flaming Fist?" he repeated. "Flaming...FIST?!" After saying it the second time, he burst into obnoxious laughter, clearly amused by this whole situation, the man's nervousness, and the name of the group he was talking about. "Okay, pal, lemme just say a couple things here. One, I know what the Flaming Fist it, but for some reason, for just...SOME REASON, I find that name absolutely hilarious. Two, how will this Flaming fist deal with me-" He drew out a throwing knife. "-if you don't make it to them?"

The man's eyes went wide. Apparently he didn't think of this predicament. Whirling around, he waddled as fast as his stubby legs allowed him to go. Little did he realize the rogue behind him had already withdrawn a throwing dagger. Though Damien knew he was better practiced with melee, he knew he'd bought those daggers. Praying for a little luck, he took aim at his frightened query, and threw.

-Elsewhere-

"Away with yer troubles and leave me be! Yer COMPANY be toil enough as is!"

"Montaron! You are so AGGRAVATING! T'is disturbing to my demeanor!"

A pair of humanoids traveled along a rock-laden path, amidst a foresty area. Both of them were at their wits' end. Having spent the last couple of days wandering as aimlessly as they were now, one could clearly assume they were lost. Further examination upon their enraged shouts at each other would confirm such a suspicion, along with the fact that they were blaming each other for it. The fact that they were trudging through the rain only made their complaints more unpleasant to hear.

"I told ye, way back when, south was where we had ta go to get to Nashkel! STRAIGHT SOUTH!" The rougher, lower voice came from a strongheart halfling, clothed in an ensemble of grayish tunic and leggings, laid over by a set of studded leather armor. His brown hair was beyond disheveled, flying all over the place as he moved erroneously. The rain that poured on him sent water flying from that hair every so often. His beardless face was somewhat streaked with dirt and grime, adding to the appearance of long travel. He had a look on his face that easily exclaimed probable murder, amplified by his reckless sword swinging. "But we had to follow YER advice, didn't we? Just keep followin' this path as it led west! Now we've been wanderin' all over fer two blasted days!"

"Well, maybe if some short little bloodthirsty RUNT hadn't aroused so many gibberlings, we'd be well on our way down there!" The black-haired human mage in a green robe, also beardless, was as irritated as the hin, but his voice was carried in a loftier, snootier manner, sometimes being thrown into unusual tones. He threw his arms everywhere as he spoke, not seeming to care if he were to strike a branch and hurt himself. Compared to the halfling's narrow-eyed gaze, the human's eyes seemed to bulge at everything we look. "And I already told you, I KNEW it was south! I just happened to be smarter about getting AWAY from those purple wastrel...THINGS that came FROM the south!"

"I had those gibberlings taken care of easily at first," the halfling shot back, "and they would've all been corpses if YE hadn't stopped casting yer spells and ran away!"

"Obviously, you didn't see the gibberlings AFTER those! Besides, my casting would be limited anyway!"

"Yeah, limited, just like yer navigatin' skills!"

"Like YOU would know this place any better!"

Clearly enraged, the halfling pointed his sword threateningly at the young mage. "Now, listen here, you-" A loud cry interrupted his possible speech of anger. Alerted from the argument, the two companions stared down the path. The strongheart struck a defensive pose with his sword, while the wizard kept his hands up, readying a spell. They each crept forward. "Whaddaya s'pose that was?" the hin whispered, breaking a sweat.

"I...I ain't quite sure," the wizard replied in a jittery tone. This time, his voice was leaps and bounds higher in pitch than before, making him sound almost like a child. They snuck on ever so quietly, taking numerous glances at the trees. Their travels did include the occasional skirmish with wild animals; had another found them?

All of a sudden, a rather obese man burst into view from the trees. Taken aback at first, the two adventurers soon calmed themselves; it was just a mere human. However, Montaron regarded the man oddly, who was walking unsteadily, and had a faraway look in his eyes. "Hey, wait a sec, we saw you earlier t'day," he said to the man. "We asked ye fer directions. Weren't ye going the other way when we le-" He stopped his questioning when the man soon fell flat on the ground, front first. A dagger protruded from the back of his head.

"ZOUNDS!" the wizard exclaimed. "The man who was once alive...now dead?" He looked down at the hin, who merely rolled his eyes. Then he stared at the man. "Eh, well, his directions weren't useful anyway."

"Yeah, he just said to go...over to the Friendly Arm Inn or somesuch," the halfling replied. "He didn't seem to have the damnest idea where we wanted to go. Still, who did this anyway?" He yanked the knife out of the body's head, a sickening squish sounding from the movement. "Musta been one helluva shot."

"Well, thanks for the compliment. In the meantime, that would be my dagger you're holding."

The pair of adventurers whirled about in suprise, their eyes gazing upon a black-dressed man of sorts, his facial features concealed by a hood. One bloodstained shortsword was gripped in his hand, another sheathed in a scabbard. "So, do I get my knife back?" the new arrival asked. "Or do I...'take' it from you?"

The halfling examined the knife a bit more, a grin forming on his face. He glanced at the man in green, who nodded, also smiling. "Oh, ye'll get it back alright..." Unexpectedly, he threw the knife at the mystery humanoid with suprising accuracy.

Undaunted, the thief swatted the knife away from its flight path with an effortless swing of his sword. Then, he walked up to the hin and human, unsheathing his other sword in the process. A pair of glowing red ovals appeared from behind the hood. In response, the halfling held up his own sword, and the wizard readied himself. The gap closed between them as the two adventurers tensed, sensing a deadly conflict with possible bloodshed. Their faces were masked with wariness, as though to tell the dual-wielding rogue to kill the one next to him.

Amazingly, however, the rogue stopped. His eyes gazed over the halfling first, then the mage. He held his gaze for a while, studying them. The examinees took a moment to look at each other, wondering what was going on. When they faced the new arrival once more, his hood was off, revealing his tiefling features and a curious grin. He spoke up: "Eh, that dagger wasn't useful anymore anyway. I'd already thrown it once before. It hid a wooden structure, so it was probably ready to thin out."

The pair went wide-eyed in response. "Ye KNEW that it was dulled?!" the halfling asked, surprised. "How could ye tell from how I threw it at ye?!"

"You think I wouldn't know my own weapons?" the other thief replied with a chortle. Then he squatted down so he was almost eye level with the strongheart. "To be honest, I wasn't in the mood for visitors, as you could probably see from that man, but the way you threw my knife...not a bad shot, to say the least. You look like you've got some bite to you."

The halfling, confused at first, soon broke into a ragged smile at the remark. "Yer right about the bite part!" he said with pride. "I've had plenty of it with this fool beside me all day! I'd've probably killed the man meself, but he did grace us with some directions or two. I take it he was less useful to ye?"

The tiefling took a moment to look back from whence he came. "Well...let's just say the timing of his arrival was very inconvienient for me." He stood back up. "Lucky for you to not share that with him. Call me Damien."

"Ah, and the same be to you, rambunctious little one!" the wizard blurted out, his eyes staying wide. "You may call me Xzar, and you're certainly welcome to replace this incompetent fellow at my side." He motioned to the halfling. "I must say, that face you have, quite the devilish type...simply divine!"

Damien responded to the compliments by smacking his hand away. "In no way do I associate myself with anyone else without a good reason. However, I am pleased to say you've improved my mood a bit. You're the first person ever to actually say something good about my looks...though I hope it was sincere."

"Tch!" the halfling spurted, annoyed. "First of all, if ye want ta get anywhere with someone useful, t'would be with me, an' not that ol' coot. Second of all, ye'd better believe it was sincere, what with that necromancer fawning over any skeleton he makes!" He brushed some loose hair from his face. "Me name be Montaron. A pleasure, which from me would be a rare thing indeed." He offered a handshake.

Damien accepted the handshake quickly, still eyeing the mage. "A necromancer, eh?" he asked. Xzar nodded eagerly. "I read a little bit about that magic school when I was still deciding my profession way back when. I glanced at the others too. I'll admit, my favorite is evocation, but necromancy...nifty stuff that is, what with altering human life so easily."

"That it is, yound devilkin," Xzar stated. "The other schools, even evocation...they may have their uses, but they have naught the power to inflict death as easily as that of the black magic that is mine!" He waved his hands around wildly, giggling with glee.

"Ah, yeah, of course," Damien said, edging away from the clearly unstable wizard. "What about you, shorty? What use do you posess?"

Montaron twirled his sword once. "First of all, let's get somethin' straight. If ye want to be livin' while standin' near me, ye'll not call me 'shorty' again. As for me uses, I'm glad ye asked. I happen ta be fairly skilled in the thievin' ways. T'was how I threw that knife so well." He chuckled. "However, I also have some trainin' in the warrior ways as well. It certainly helps with the closer encounters that come me way."

Damien took another good hard look at the pair before him. Clearly, these two people were quite the set of oddballs, unlike anyone he'd ever met before. All of the people from Candlekeep were the nicer sort, the kind that didn't consort with any rough denizens of the realms, denizens like...well, these two. Socially, he was doubtful they'd make good company. However, he did notice that they had a sort of boldness to them...the kind of attitude that told others to back off, lest they be dealt with. From their demeanor alone, Montaron and Xzar were more than ready to kill someone out of sheer frustration from their problems. Hell, they'd probably kill each other just as easily.

That thief told me about the importance of allies on a journey, Damien mentally noted.Though it might go against my better judgement, these two clowns may actually fit the bill. At least they have some talent. Plus, neither seem to be bothered my heritage. In fact, that Xzar is enthralled by it! Amazing how mere looks garner so much attention these days..."All right then, you two," the thief spoke up verbally easily grabbing their attention. "After listening to your babbling, I've decided you two may be of use to me in my travels. While it's entertaining to see how you each favor yourself above the other, your abilities are quite different. By different, I mean different between you and different from me, as I am a full-fledged thief. Thus, both of you will be who I travel with today." This elicited groans from Montaron and Xzar. "Ok, shut up and listen. I know from meeting you that you'd likely not suffer my company without a good reason." Damien then told them a little about his past life at Candlekeep, along with the encounter he had last night, along his decision and reason to search for the stranger who attacked him.

"Well, now, that be quite the tale to tell," Montaron quipped. "So ye left a home that paid ye no kindness whatsoever with some ol' buzzard pretendin' to be yer father. Ye then take off from a fight the wizard lost, and ye wanna find that killer again?" The hin had no chance at stopping himself from laughing.

"And they say I'm full of insanity," Xzar said with a smirk.

"Say what you want, but that's what I'm doing, and I'm not beneath admitting that I'll need help." Damien snapped, unsheathing his swords. "That's why I've chosen you two to come with me. Your opinions are your own, but think carefully about how you answer. Join me, and take pride in gaining the respect of an infernal being. Refuse...and pay for the time our talk has taken."

Montaron and Xzar looked at each other. Clearly, they both could see that this man was no mere traveler. He was a man both on a mission and out for blood. On top of that, he would use those facts to get what he wanted, no matter what it took to get it. Most importantly, he wouldn't let anyone stand in his way. They both smiled. Damien, it seemed, would be an ideal companion.

"Well, ye do be soundin' serious on this matter, eh?" Montaron said with a wily grin. "Excellent! I like yer attitude, kid. We'd be certainly glad to help, on three conditions. One, keep that fire in ye that ye have goin'. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a weak heart goin' soft on us. Two, prove whatever usefulness you say you have to us as we travel; simply blocking knivew won't be enough. The third me companion'll explain."

"We have received word," Xzar picked up, "that there is an iron shortage crisis going on across the land these days. So perhaps as payment for our assistance, you would accompany us to Nashkel. It is a troubled area, and we mean to investigate some disturbing rumors surrounding the local mine there. Some acquaintances are very concerned about the iron shortage; specifically, where to lay blame in the matter. You would be useful, though I'll not hold you to it. We are to meet with the mayor of the town, a man named Berrun Ghastkill."

"Sounds tedious, I know," Montaron added, "but it's likely to have a sizeable reward. Problem is, the tallfolk next to me led us in the wrong direction, and we can't seem to pick up where we left off."

"That reminds me," Xzar countered, glaring at the halfling. "Be wary when he jumps headfirst into combat. Even if you live, you'll likely get lost."

"Alright, alright, whatever, shut up," Damien said dryly. The bickering between these two was already getting irritating, though their offer sounded intriguing. Information about an iron shortage was good to know; since weapons were comprised of that material. A lack of good iron probably meant less weapons to come by, which would be unfortunate, since he knew his simple weapons couldn't last forever. "Yeah, your proposal sounds good. I accept." He withdrew his weapons. "We go south, then, south to Nashkel, and it's carnival."

Montaron and Xzar were taken aback. For coming out of his home so quickly, that thief sure knew where Nashkel was in a hurry. Before they could ask, however, Damien answered their unspoken question. "Yeah, I know, I just left my home last night and I know where Nashkel is. Lemme tell you something. I come from a small keep that is dedicated to knowledge and the usefulness of having plenty of it. That place has a library seven stories tall just overflowing with books. Hell, those people worship OGHMA for crying out loud. If that place wouldn't've had a map worth memorizing, I wouldn't know what town would." He faced back towards where he'd come from. "Let's take a shortcut, down through the grass by the coast. We'll head south by southeast, keeping an eye out for another town that should be south as well, um..."

"Beregost," Xzar finished.

"Yeah, thanks," Damien muttered. "We go there to rest and restock if needed, then go due south from there. Sound good?"

Montaron and Xzar glanced at each other. "That whelp makes me look bad!" the mage whispered angrily.

"Oh, go suck yer blade," Montaron shot back. "It's about time I heard something smart from someone that didn't involve raising the dead." Then, to Damien, "sounds good to me, kid, lead the way."

And so the adventure began, with Damien's first true quest on his shoulders, along with an unfolding mystery in his mind and two companions on his back. He gazed down the horizon hungrily, the thought of power in his mind. Though he wasn't sure how long it would take, or how much effort it would require, he would nonetheless have that power, no matter what it took. He would achieve his goal and gain that strength, becoming more powerful in the process. He would become strong enough to shape his future to his liking without anyone standing in his way.

Damien Stormraven would gain that dominance, no matter what he had to do...or who he had to kill.

--

Montaron and Xzar are introduced! Next chappie will be Safana and that troll quest I never figured out when I played the game!XD Relax, I'll use walkthroughs. I was actually thinking of putting Viconia in at this point, but for some reason, Safana sounds like more fun right now, and at least I'll have a good sidequest idea right from the get-go(don't worry, the drow will come in time!). Monty and Xzar were hilarious in the game, I thought, and I figured I'd give em a good comedic scene to lead them off. Plus, I felt like the "lost" scenario would be a cool way to explain my reason as to why on earth they stand around near Candlekeep when they needed to get their butts south! I mean, the half-elves were waiting for you, but these guys? Finally, to explain Damien's remarkable bouts of knowledge, well, he's very intelligent, as thieves should be. Add that to living in Candlekeep and this guy most certainly did a lot of reading and studying to prepare for his adventuring life. Not to make him too smart or anything, there're things he'll certainly not know to be sure, I just thought a well-learned thief would make things fun. Keep those reviews coming, folks, they really help. See ya!