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V.

This left Imoen by herself, which made the experience that much less enjoyable. Imoen was a social creature, the exact opposite of her older sister; Imoen could fondly recall days where she had to drag the book-reading elf out of a corner of the library and outside so they could do something fun. It made Imoen a little sad to realize that Viviane had truly been made for Candlekeep.

“No use being glum!” the thief said aloud, trying to perk herself up, “There are plenty of people who’ve hung out with us that were more than glum enough!”

“You said it, lass!” the bartender chimed in. “Now, about the bar tab…”

“I… er… yes, bar tab…” Imoen glanced around for someone in pickpocket range – there being none, she quickly blended into the shadows and ran out the door.

“Hey!”

She giggled to herself as she ran across the Amkethran sands, hardly able to contain her glee. Despite her aptitude towards and love of magic, she always appreciated her sneakier habits.

She stared up at the sky, marveling at the cloudless nights Amkethran always seemed to have. She smiled and let the cool air play through her hair; her smile faded as it brought back a memory she’d rather have forgotten of a similar night.

“Heya, what’s going on?” Imoen asked, having followed Gorion and Viviane out of Candlekeep. The elf in question was hiding up a tree, and Gorion was nowhere to be found. “Why’re you up that tree? Where’s Gorion?”

There was a squeak of surprise, and Viviane fell from the tree and landed on Imoen in a hug. “I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU IN MY LIFE!” she exclaimed.

“Can’t breathe!”

Viviane hastily got up and started brushing herself off. “We got ambushed by a big armored dude and his friends! Daddy told me to run, so I did, and it’s been a few hours and I haven’t seen him since!”

Imoen stared at her like she had grown two heads. “What’re you freaking out for, silly? This is like the beginning of an adventure! Let’s go find Gorion and see what happens next! It’ll be so cool, just you wait and see!” Imoen cheerfully grabbed both of Viviane’s hands in hers and started dragging her off north.

And then they found Gorion, or what was left of him, glistening in the moonlight.

Imoen shook her head to rid her of that particular memory. It had been worse for Viviane, having been Gorion’s “daughter”, but it wasn’t easy for Imoen to see the corpse of her foster uncle either. “You’d better be proud of us, you old geezer!” Imoen screamed at the sky. “Goin’ off and dyin’ like that before telling either of us what we were! Geez!”

Briefly Imoen wondered if Gorion even knew about her. Or even knew about her mother. It was weird –she knew logically, the ears and height being dead giveaways, that she and Viviane weren’t full-blooded siblings, and yet she had come to think of them as being so. When Viviane had told them that she had met her mother in a vision and that she had been a Bhaalite priestess and had tried to sacrifice her, Imoen had grown indignant on their behalf, raving about their mother until Viviane tentatively reminded her that it wasn’t her mother. This had set Imoen off into a different rant about how their dad was a slut and that she figured her mother was really an awesome swashbuckler, totally better than Viviane’s mom, which had prompted an argument between the two about which was better, mages or thieves (despite the fact that Viviane’s mom wasn’t a mage, but that was beside the point), which ended when Imoen crooned that it didn’t matter which was better because she was both. Viviane had thrown something at her screaming about how she wasn’t really a mage and had run off.

Yup, they might as well have been full-blooded sisters.

Imoen chuckled again and sat down, laying back into the sand. She smiled fondly as she recalled the very first time that she had told Viviane she wanted to be a mage.

“Vivi, I wants to be a mage wike you!” Little Imoen squealed in joy as the two sat in a corner of the library. “Wiww you give me an extwa scwoll fow me to study?”

Little Viviane’s eyes narrowed and then opened up wide in a bright smile. “Sure, Immy, hewe you go!” She handed her a scroll that just so happened to be a Cursed Scroll of Stupidity. Purely on accident, of course.

It had taken the monks of Candlekeep two weeks to figure out something was wrong with her. The thought made her angry at them for being old fiddlefaddles and yet proud of her sister for being so damn underhanded.

Imoen sighed. “I need to stop thinking about Candlekeep,” she said aloud. “I mean, this is way more awesome than watching Viv read books! We’re gonna go to Watcher’s Keep! It’ll be totally cool!”

“I’m so bored! I wanna go do something!” a young Imoen whined, jumping up and down.

Viviane looked up from the book she was reading. “Let’s go to Watcher’s Keep!’ she said joyfully, “I just read about it! It sounds really dangerous but with lots of stuff!”

“Ooooo, stuff!” Imoen agreed.

“And what’s even cooler,” Viviane continued, looking back at the book, “is that no one knows what it’s there for! There are Helmite knights watching the place who refuse to say! The thought is that something’s imprisoned there but no one knows what!”

“COOL! LET’S GO!” Imoen exclaimed, “I can sneak around and steal stuff and you can cast Magic Missile!”

“Those stupid Helmites will finally find out what they’re guarding!” Viviane put the book back on the shelf. “Okay, Immy, go get ready and we’ll meet back here in ten minutes! It’s a long trip so we’re going to have to steal some horses, and Daddy and Uncle Winthrop can’t find out we’re going because they definitely won’t let us go!”

“They never let us do anything fun,” Imoen grumbled. “Okay! I’ll meet you here!”

The two ran off to their respective rooms. Ten minutes later, they both came back with a bag of clothes and a bag of snack food. Imoen had pilfered three daggers and Viviane had Gorion’s wallet and her spell book, complete with all of three spells – Magic Missile, Chromatic Orb, and Horrid Wilting.

“Maybe I’ll finally be able to cast Horrid Wilting!” she said with a broad grin, looking at the page in her book with the spell.

“Where’d you get it from, anyhow?”

“I stole it from Daddy’s friend Khelben,” she said with a grin. “He thinks I’m funny, ever since I stole his cloak, so it was easy! See, you’re not the only one of us who can steal stuff!”

“I’m totally better at it. Let’s go!”

A week later found the two rebels in Nashkel, completely out of food and with exactly ten gold pieces left. “I’m soooo hungry! How much further until Watcher’s Keep?” Imoen whined as the two girls made camp next to the inn.

“Um… it looks like another two weeks of travel. Ish. It’s hard to tell! This map is really old!” Viviane looked up at the horses. “We could sell the horses for money!”

“Or eat them,” Imoen suggested, her mouth watering.

“Ewww, nasty.”

“What are two girls doing out here?” a well-built man in his mid-forties asked, walking up to them. His armor was shiny, and Imoen swore she could see some sort of holy aura around him. “Are you lost? My name is Sir Keldorn Firecaam – I’m a paladin of Torm; I can try to help you find your parents, although I’m not from around here so I’m not completely familiar with the city.”

Viviane was gaping in awe. Imoen decided to take over. “I’m Imoen, and big ears over here is Viviane. Can you take us to Watcher’s Keep? We’re going to be great adventurers one day and figured we’d start there!”

The knight chuckled. “Perhaps you ought to wait until you’re a bit more experienced before going there.”

“We’re plenty experienced!” Imoen cried.

“I want to go with you!” Viviane exclaimed, getting up and attaching herself to Keldorn’s leg. “You’re so cool and shiny!”

Imoen gasped. “Vivi!”

“Immy, if the cool paladin says we can’t go to Watcher’s Keep, then we can’t go to Watcher’s Keep!”

Keldorn reached down and patted Viviane on the head. “I’ll take you girls home, all right? Where are you from?”

“Candlekeep,” Viviane said in a sing-song voice. Imoen sulked.

The trip home had been a good one – Keldorn had humored the two girls with stories of battles he’d participated in and adventures he’d been on. Imoen had initially decided she was going to sulk the entire way back but had to give in to Keldorn’s charisma. Upon returning to Candlekeep, both girls were grounded for three weeks and forced to do nothing but chores for that entire duration, and were strictly forbidden from speaking to each other during that timeframe.

It made Imoen smile to remember it. Here they were, with the same damn paladin (she vaguely wondered if Keldorn even remembered, as it had been over 10 years ago and the man in question probably did things like that regularly), being a little more experienced and actually going to Watcher’s Keep… contingent on Viviane waking up, of course…

Imoen rolled over in agitation and ended up getting a face full of sand. She rolled back over. “She’ll wake up,” Imoen said with a snort. “She’s tough, even though she’s so frickin’ arrogant it’s amazing she’s still alive…”

“Welcome, Child of Bhaal,” the fifth demon practically purred, eying Viviane as if she were a tasty snack, “We have heard much about you here.”

“Oh really? Do tell.”

“Stories of bravery, heroics, noble deeds and great magics!”

“Stop, you’re making me blush,” she giggled.

Imoen rolled her eyes.

“There is a great and terrible evil in here that only you can slay!” the demon exclaimed. “Go forth, Child of Bhaal, and show it what it dares stand against!”

“What is-” Keldorn began.

“I’ll kill it! Let’s go, team!” Viviane crooned.

The demon looked as if it didn’t expect this response. “Go you,” the demon said.

She walked forward with her arms up in the air dramatically. “Let’s – HOLY CRAP THAT DRAGON IS HUGE!”

“Can we just leave her to do it alone?” Viconia asked with a sigh.

“She’s been through worse.”

Like finding out she was the child of an evil god? Imoen had it on good authority that that was pretty tough.

Viviane read Gorion’s letter aloud.

"My darling Viviane,

If you are reading this, it means I have met an untimely death. I would tell you not to grieve for me, but I feel much better thinking that you would. There are things I must tell you in this letter that I might have told you before. However, if my death came too soon then I would have never been given the chance. First off, I am not your biological father, for that distinction lies with an entity known as Bhaal. The Bhaal that I speak of is the one you know of as a divinity. In the crisis known as the Time of Troubles, when the Gods walked Faerun, Bhaal was also forced into a mortal shell. He was somehow forewarned of the death that awaited him during this time. For reasons unknown to me, he sought out women of every race and forced himself upon them. Your mother was one of those women, and as you know, she died in childbirth. I had been her friend and on occasion, lover. I felt obligated to raise you as my own. I have always thought of you as my child and I hope you still think of me as your father. You are a special child. The blood of the Gods runs through your veins. If you make use of our extensive library you will find that our founder, Alaundo, has many prophecies concerning the coming of the spawn of Bhaal. There are many who will want to use you for their own purposes. One, a man who calls himself Sarevok, is the worst danger. He has studied here at Candlekeep and thus knows a great deal about your history and who you are.

Love, Gorion"

“Huh.”

The group silently stood around her.

“A Bhaalspawn!” Ajantis gasped.

“Sweet Seldarine, you’re more doomed than I thought…” Xan whispered.

“The Lord of Murder shall perish,” Viviane started singing softly, “But in his footsteps he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny… Chaos shall be sown in their passage; so Sayeth the Wise Alaundo…”

“Viviane?” Kivan asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. Kivan looked compassionate; Imoen felt perturbed.

“I’m a hopeless bookworm, Kivan,” Viviane said, her earlier words to him now tinted with malice, “I’ve read most if not all of the books in this library. I always found Alaundo’s prophecies to be the most fascinating because Alaundo founded the library. But maybe it was because they were about me?”

“Come, mellonamin, let’s leave this room at least,” Kivan said, grabbing her upper arms and steering her out of the room. Viviane looked like she was relieved the older elf was taking over, like she wanted to throw herself in his arms and cry, and also like she wanted to punch him in the face.

The four others stood in the room, not sure what to say.

“I’d still do her,” Coran offered.

“If keeping the drow meant never seeing you again, I wish we would’ve kept her,” Xan muttered.

Imoen had to give a wry smile as she recalled how much better Viviane had taken her Bhaalness.

“Vivi,” Imoen asked softly, the group spending the night in the Pocket Plane after having been attacked by fire giants while trying to sleep in the Marching Mountains, “I really, really need to talk to you.”

Viviane put down her mage book. “What do you need?”

Imoen looked at the other members of the group, who were sitting around together. “It’s, er, personal.”

“Girl personal or Bhaal personal?”

“Bhaal personal.”

Viviane stood up, brushing her robe to get the dust off, and reached down to grab Sarevok’s no-longer-armored upper arm. “C’mon big brother, it’s time for a sibling chat.”

“For the last time, Viviane, I am no longer a Child of Bhaal-”

“Who’s your father, Sarevok? In the strictest sense of the man who knocked up your mother, who is your father?”

Sarevok sighed and stood. “That would be Bhaal. Fine, I will come and share my knowledge with you, if it will make Imoen quit whining.”

“I’m not whining,” Imoen protested.

The three sat down on the other side of the Pocket Plane, away from Keldorn, Anomen and Viconia.

“So let’s talk about Bhaal!” Viviane said cheerfully. Sarevok gave an annoyed sigh. “What’s been going on?”

“I’ve been getting some more… abilities,” Imoen said carefully, “Like, healing powers. Minor stuff. I’m just… worried that it’s going to get worse.”

“It gets worse,” Sarevok said bluntly, “It gets much, much worse. The dreams you are having now are mild compared to that which you will suffer through in the future. The powers you will gain are weak compared to the rage that fills your blood, your very soul. Your god-blood is granting you healing powers so that you can keep yourself alive long enough to kill, kill, kill.”

“During the day,” Viviane added, “my blood looks at children and calls, ‘Slice their throats! Slice their veins; watch their inferior blood stain the ground upon which you walk!’”

“And it’s worse at night,” Sarevok said knowledgeably.

Viviane nodded enthusiastically as Imoen wanted to go cry somewhere private. “Oh, yes. During the night, my blood looks at the darkness and calls, ‘Slice the bread! Slice the ham, watch as you create a tasty sandwich!’”

“Yes sister, it – wait, what?”

“‘But I don’t have any cheese!’ I respond to it,” Viviane continued, “‘You are weak!’ it responds, ‘You must find the cheese! The cheese is your destiny! You will embrace the ham, the cheese and the bread, or you are not worthy to be called a Child of Bhaal!’”

Imoen couldn’t stop giggling.

Sarevok looked as if he couldn’t decide what his reaction should be, other than some sort of anger.

“Apparently Daddy has different plans for all of us,” Viviane explained to Imoen, turning this into a moral lesson, “His plan for Sarevok was to let him kill things. His plan for you is probably to get some extra cash. His plan for me is to apparently make him a sandwich.” She paused, “That’s awfully sexist of him. And he’ll be very disappointed to learn that a ham and cheese sandwich is about the fanciest meal I can make.”

“That might be a bad thing if you and the An-Man keep going,” Imoen pointed out.

“Actually, Anomen is a surprisingly good chef,” Viviane admitted, “He makes the most delicious crepes I have ever tasted.”

“… good to know.”

Afterwards Anomen had been cajoled into cooking the aforementioned crepes for the whole party, and they were just as delicious as advertised.

“Great, now I’m hungry!” Imoen complained, “And I don’t have any money so I can’t pay the bar tab! Or… or… I could just steal it!”

She got up, cast a quick invisibility spell, and skipped back to the inn.