Callum Virtaernus

Thus begins a new chapter, however briefly we're allowed to bask in this moment of victory and peace. There are several aspects I take from this fight, and most of them are personal, if I'm honest with myself. I'm grateful the people of Waterdeep are protected, as are the rest of the inhabitants of the Sword Coast from the Lord of Blades and his armies. I'm grateful for the friends who have stood by me and I with them through this whole ordeal, even though we're likely going to face even greater threats than what we've encountered already. I'm overjoyed and relieved that Zora both stood beside me and made it through the fight unscathed, and as a father, I'm proud in a manner I've never known. She truly is the best of her mother and myself. I'm so grateful she's allowed me a second chance.   Second chances...that was something I never expected from Emperious and the rest of the council. It's my intent to visit them or call upon them again soon if they will speak with me. I pledged my service once again to my former commander, and I intend to honor that pledge. Though I have a different perspective on what service I might offer beyond my former station.   I know, and I trust my friends' and commander's judgement, that my heart is once again pure. But be that as it may, I still bear Hell's influence. I know my battle with the darkness of that realm, its lord, and the darkness within me, is far from over. More than that, it's exactly because of that darkness that I'm allowed a unique opportunity I wonder if anyone else can access.   If I can be saved...redeemed even...others among the fallen can too. Uriel might be saved. Even Zariel. I have to believe that it's an endeavor worth pursuing. For my sisters' sake. And I, the Hellwalker, can take this upon myself without fear of condemning others as I once so foolishly did before by asking them to follow me.   No...This time, one tarnished by Hell might save those who are being influenced and manipulated by darkness. There is light and redemption within the darkness. Not just wrath. Not just rage. And not just vengeance. Perhaps, moving forward, that's what this victory over the Lord of Blades can precede.   Such is my hope. Such is my prayer. To Torm, and to my fellow Solar should they choose to hear it.

Begin writing your story here...

Begin writing your story here...

And so it comes to this. We have the answers we need to appease the Lord of Blades, and all we can do now is hope that will appease him enough so that he doesn't unleash his entire army upon Waterdeep. Given what I know of him, even if he agrees to come with us to Elturel and then to Confluence, his army will remain here, holding all of Waterdeep hostage as a contingency in case his whim should dictate the city's destruction, or if he doesn't come back. A curious notion given that, if he were to succeed in his endeavors once reaching Confluence, there would be no beings of flesh left in this realm or any of the others. Something tells me that, no matter what we do, there will be bloodshed.   I mean to settle this matter with the Lord of Blades once and for all. He is my sworn enemy, but enemies can still have respect for one another. In that regard, I do respect what he can do, what he's capable of, and to some degree, what he represents to the Warforged as a race. They have been made to suffer too many injustices, and as a Warforged I once knew said, "Kick a dog enough times and eventually it will bite." Here we are, and I respect why the Lord of the Blades might be baring his fangs and lashing out, but I can never justify the lengths to which he's gone, or will go to see his goals accomplished.   It will end once we reach Confluence, and I will make it known to him I intend to end once the terms of our agreement are satisfied. If he's the god he claims to be, felling a mortal like myself should be of no consequence. And if he's nothing more than a false prophet, the realms should know. All the realms should know, and reconsider what divinity truly is.   Just as I am doing now, after my discussion with the Raven Queen. I'm grateful for her council, and gladder still to know the strands of fate are not unchangeably woven, given what I've come to discover with the prophecy detailed in the Book of Vile Darkness and now branded upon my arm. But even more profound was her emphasis on the prayers I heard. That we all heard. It was not lost of me why she would point this out, as there is ample precedent to attest to a mortal's ascendance to godhood. Kelemvor, Cyrric, even the Raven Queen herself were once mortals, just to name a few. They started as adventurer's and warriors, just as we have done.   What does this mean for us if a goddess herself is taking note?

Begin writing your story here...

Begin writing your story here...

A certain conversation I had with Gweihera comes to mind as I contemplate the actions of the last day and what lies ahead. Long ago she and I spoke atop Mount Celestia after a particularly brutal skirmish with the forces of Hell. It seems what I did to them that day was but a prelude to the things to come. And now that I have the mark of the Slayer branded on my arm, the words Wisdom and I exchanged that day resonate in my soul all the more.   The Lord of Blades mercilessly slaughtered the innocent just to get to us. In accordance with my old station, and the code of vengeance I swore to uphold, the only course now is to avenge the fallen, and I will do so by bringing fear and pain to the one who claims he's beyond both. One day. But in the meantime, I can't forget that what I do now in response to his actions will also have consequences beyond the battle he and I will wage. Others cannot be made to suffer, and I see that happening already.   The line to walk is difficult. How can I be both the embodiment of wrath and strike fear into the heart of evil, but still ensure that mercy and temperance retain their place in the world? The only answer I have is that sometimes, if I have caused wrong, all I can do is set it right. Whatever form that takes.   The Warforged not aligned with the Lord of Blades cannot be blamed for the actions of others, and though I partook of grisly totems with the intent of harming the Lord of Blades, I now see a wrong I have to set right. I intend to start when he and I meet to negotiate the way forward for all of us. After that, I know there are others who will need my protection. To those that would harm the innocent, that is who needs fear my wrath.   This applies to more than just innocent I have yet to meet, as I also understand the friends who stand by me, and who continually stand by me, are also suffering from the loyalty they feel to me and in sympathy to my cause. I'm seeing it in Hollie and in Jain. I know there are others, even if they won't say so. Their trust in me is always a humbling experience.   I'll keep that all in mind as I face the Lord of Blades and negotiate the future of Waterdeep with them beside me.

When I swore my oath of vengeance against the dark realms, perhaps I was naïve in thinking that my quest was only against the fiends that plague all of existence. It was easy to focus my ire there. After all, they were responsible for any number of uncountable enormities I'd witnessed both as a Solar, and as the creature Asmodeus made me. I'd known for a long time that while evil was perfected in the corruption that is the fiendish way, this was not an exclusive trait. Villainy takes many forms. Sadly, I'm witness to it as it is made manifest before once again, and its new title is the Lord of Blades.   When I first met him, I thought I was addressing a powerful being, mislead through centuries, even millennia of cruelty and hardship. I've known several Warforged throughout my time on Faerun, and the plight of their origin always struck me as a profound conundrum. What is any of our purposes? The Warforged feel this more poignantly than most, as to some, the very purpose of their creation was denied from the moment they came into existence. As Silver once told me, "Don't think I don't feel." I pity those that see our fellow beings as anything less than all we are as creatures of creation, for their shortsightedness is the precursor to depravities they cannot fathom. Who can blame the Lord of Blades for wanting to liberate an oppressed and wandering people?   But that cannot, and will never excuse the tyranny I bore witness to today. I watched as a leader of his people embraced tyranny and slaughter with indifference and cold ruthlessness I've only witnessed in the darkest of souls. Those at his command committed murder without remorse or hesitation. Theirs was only a singular goal, and it's become clear to me that no one will be spared from the Lord of Blades and his conquest of all things living. To this creature that sees himself as a god over creation, I know there is no redemption. I once thought to reason with him. Now...when we speak again, and rest assured, I will make it known to him in no uncertain terms when we do, he will know he's exhausted any hope for mercy from me.   My oath is vengeance. The Lord of Blades will feel it now. In his destruction lies whatever salvation is left to him.

A heavy blow has been dealt to evil this day, and it's a day I'll not soon forget. If I ever doubted it before, I have no excuse or reason to cling to such disbelief. What I once was is still alive within me. However small, however distant, the being I once was still manifests in ways I know now will guide me along Torm's path as I'm meant to walk it. The Solar I was may never exist again, but what I stood for is alive and well, and it's been made known in no uncertain terms to all evil that might threaten the realms.   I'm honored to stand for this. Even more so to have such friends who are willing to stand beside me. It was no small thing, as Jain pointed out, and there will always be that side of me that regrets jeopardizing them so. However they don't hesitate. I asked for their help and they were ready in an instant. Angus most of all, for which I'm continually impressed. He never balks, never even blinks when it comes to standing by my side, and in many ways, I think him far holier than I could ever be. He's never been corrupted by darkness. Never even tempted by it. And when the moment came to face the darkness of that vile tome, he knew what needed to be done, sword at the ready that I would never become the creature I despised. Never wreak such havoc and destruction again.   I wonder...his sense of justice...his honor...   Perhaps there's more to him, or at the very least, to his fate than I might have first realized...   And of fate, despite this great victory, I can't help but wonder at mine. The dark prophecy relayed to me from the book was never meant for an angel's eyes. No goodly being should have anything to do with such evil, but now that I have, and that a certain truth that was meant only for darkness has been revealed, I look ahead with great caution at what might become of my fate.   The parallels are undeniable. Even Tauriel called me the "Hellwalker," almost prophetically so now that the title has been revealed. "The path of perpetual torment..." "The right hand of the creator." "Who brings fear where there is no hope."   A destructive and dark entity. Something truly terrible if released upon the realms, but apparently, only to evil. Only to the fiends of the Abyss and the 9 Hells. Perhaps even to Asmodeus himself who seems to have known what it was he was creating, perhaps even gambling on by making Zariel and I what we are.   My old friend...I will see you freed. I don't know yet if this Destroyer, this Doom Slayer is what it will take to liberate you, but if it is...if that's what it takes...   I swore vengeance for the atrocities I suffered. For what Heaven and all the realms suffered. Be warned, evil, for it is possible the unchained predator has been released.   I need to speak with Orianna and Zora. They need to know what's coming next and where I'm needed. There is far more to learn about this prophecy and its significance in the days ahead, and my friends need me now as we journey north to see to matters important to them. They stood by me. I will not hesitate to return the favor.

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More and more I start to see Torm's hand at work in my life. Whether it be the people he brings into it, or their influence on it, I start to realize that there is a plan in everything. Not everyone ascribes that particular belief. Still working on Orion, but I think he might be coming around. Especially after his sister's return...   I can scarcely believe it, but between the inexpressible gratitude, the moments of sheer, profound relief, and the hysteria of joy in her return, I convince myself again and again that it's real. She's real. She's returned to me. To Zora. To all of us.   Torm be praised. And I also offer my sincere thanks to the Raven Queen and her servants who returned my wife to me as I returned Ushen to her. I suppose there is balance in that. Even the Goddess of Death must abide by this principle, to a god so unlike her. But there can be understanding even in the most unlikely of allies, I've come to realize. In serving Torm, I freed Ushen. In freeing him, I restored a piece of the Raven Queen's influence. In that, I was led to where I am now.   In the guest suite of Valenier manor, penning this journal amidst the candlelight with Orianna sleeping peacefully beside me. It all brought me here. It all started with the Loyal Fury. He is as the Lady of Fate described: honorable and stoic in that virtue to the end of time. He does not speak to me directly as she does to Ushen, but he still speaks if I am willing to listen. And the words are all the more profound the more I open my heart and soul to his influence.   As it was in freeing Durnan. As it will be in the days to come, I'm sure. And now, my wife is with me again, and Zora's mother can guide her in ways I know no other is fit for. We enter a dangerous time for all our world, perhaps our entire existence, the planes included. If this is to be the end, then at the very least, as I go about fighting this good fight till my last breath, I am grateful for one thing in particular, and that is that I am granted even a single minute more with the love of my life.   I was lost for a long time. I realized recently that I've found my way again. I'm convinced of it all the more profoundly every time I hold her in my arms.   Torm be praised indeed. I go to enact his will, now and always.

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Well...if Zora wasn't going to kill me before, she definitely is now. I don't expect her to understand. Truth be told, she probably doesn't understand a lot of what I do or why. Granted, in the past, my indifference to her opinion was misguided under the delusion of me doing what I thought was best for her. But now...I guess I'm doing what's best for me. I can only hope that in so doing, I'm also doing what's best for her. She's a grown woman now, and she's following her own path with the Zhentarim, which fortunately aligns us against at least one of the coming threats. I'll take what I can get.   And when I look back on that parting with the organization that first took Orianna, Zora, and I admit I feel an absence despite the morally dubious undertakings they'd often employ me upon. I think the core of what the Zhentarim stand for is meant to be good, but the methods...I can't abide it anymore. If rules of virtue can be bent, I've already warped them beyond repair, and after what happened at the Cassalantor estate, I simply can't do that anymore. I'll have to atone for my sins someday, but for now, there's a better path moving forward. One that I'm glad I have friends to help me walk.   Speaking of them, I also have to admit I'm quite surprised, though happily so at the ready offer from everyone to ensure my departure from the Zhentarim was a safe one. This felt like a personal problem meant for me to deal with alone, including the violence that might have come from it. But there they were, ready and willing. Even Holly, whom I'm more than happy to see after these years but didn't expect anything from. She owes me nothing, much like I feel the others owe me nothing. Yet there she was. There they were. I'm grateful for that, and to them.   I guess I might be on the right track with this "new leaf" I'm trying to turn over. I know we won't always see eye to eye, and even then, I know they'll use methods I outright cannot condone. But there are many ways to reach a destination. I'll find my way. They'll find theirs, like Zora will. In the end, I still call them friend. I hope they'll do the same for me.   Actually, I trust they'll do the same for me.

Begin writing your story here...

I wish I could explain better what happened down in that infernal pit. The Cassalantors were about to bring Vecna back, and with it, the destruction of everything we know. My friends and I saw the threat, moved to neutralize it, and succeeded. That's the simplest way I can describe it. But it's the how...that's where things get difficult, especially for me.   I remember telling Corvix not too long ago I didn't think myself worthy of Torm's grace, even though I actively pursued it in the present. I'd like to think it's my faith in him that helped bring Zora back when she was nearly killed. I'd like to think the same now. I was returned. Returned to what I once was and to the purpose I stood for. In glorious battle, my steel met my foes' and Wrath was unleashed upon the deposed lords of Hell. Wrath brought ruin to the evil that sought to overthrow the world of Faerun, and in another titanic clash, the light once again prevailed over the darkness. Heaven's will was done.   But...now I'm back. Back to the form I know is eternal. Just a man. Perhaps a gifted one, capable of more than I realize, but a man nonetheless. Even the Solar I was knew pain. Knew defeat. I've grown even more acquainted with those two companions as a mortal, and it makes each battle all the more vivid for what stands to fall should I know them too intimately again. But as I rest and recuperate a battered body, I also realize I've grown more acquainted with camaraderie and my fellows. I can't do this without them. Perhaps I never could, even if I've always been ready to act alone.   When we reconvene, I intend to keep that respect, that cohesion alive between us, for in them, I see a spark of destiny. I see a group of warriors that could change fate itself. In Celestia, we all had our purpose. Every Solar, while bonded in the Eternal Conflict, maintained their station with a sense of righteous solitude, for our role was ours alone to bear in the heavenly realms. That was our duty. As a man who has found both likely and unlikely friends, I see them something beyond that duty. Something that brings out the best in me.   Maybe that's what inspired the return of Wrath against Bel, Geryon, and Moloch.   I can't let myself be corrupted again. I can't let them down again. If I am to be the best version of myself for all causes, theirs, mine, Zora's, and Torm's, I have to follow a new path and have faith it will lead me to the salvation of all of us.   These next tendays...I'm going to contemplate what that looks like...   Who is the man who can, perhaps, be stronger than the Solar of Wrath?

This is the difference between devils and demons. Both are intelligent, but the former acts with a malicious cunning the spawn of the abyss tend to lack. And Moloch is no fool. Cornering Angus after bombarding him with stuns and poison...The relief I felt as our brother the Platinum Dragon answered his plea was nearly that of when Zora's life was returned to me. Perfect timing too, because old strength, a purer vitality and might like that which was mine in Heaven returns to me bit by bit, and just like Geryon, I know Moloch won't forget the paladin who took him through a building. And now all of Waterdeep knows he's here.   The more we fight and discover just how far this plot goes, the more I begin to realize what will be required of us, and I think my friends know this too. All of us fight to our utmost, even when parted from one another. And even though Moloch doesn't get a trip back to Hell, at least he's battered and shaken by the time we're done. Whether it's the newfound cunning of my minotaur brother or the arcane prowess of Kal, we adapt and we continue our fight with undeterred resolve. The sight gives me hope. Maybe even confidence enough to strike down a meteor...   ...Zora's gonna kill me.   But that's only if Bel doesn't first. The four of them are committed to this in a way I haven't seen outside the Dark Lord's schemes. Anything for a chance to rule their circle once again, but the cost is beyond what they're imagining. Same goes for the Cassalanter's, though I hope there's some semblance of decency left within them if what we've heard about Victoro is true. It might be our only path to victory in this. The combined might of all three, with Glasya and Victoro and whatever other minions they've summoned to boot.   I will give my all to save that which I love. In Torm's name, in Heaven's name, I cannot fail now.

At first I felt a sense of reservation regarding this plan. Not for lack of preparation, but because of the moral ambiguity of some of methods. I promised to ensure Kal's demons don't run amuck. I vowed long ago to never harm an innocent. It seems that my promises lend themselves to shades of gray I never once had to consider, much like our assault on the Cassalanter estate and the potential danger it posed to those uninvolved with their Infernal workings.   And yet, the moment the Kython revealed itself, I knew there was a great purpose here. These fiends have possessed this family entirely, and they'll stop at nothing to get their way, jeopardizing the very fabric of the universe itself just to achieve their ends. There will be forgiveness to ask for, this I know. But the greater calamity would be doing nothing.   Kal's new blade...A thing of beauty and terror all at once. Yet no sentience within this one, and something I can put to use for the justice and honor I would stand for till my dying breath. Let the fiends taste its bite. Just as the first few did. And when Geryon seized Kal, I know I gave him a sting he'll never forget. Perhaps the others will come to fear it as well. In Torm's name, I would endeavor to ensure just that.   Fight for honor. For good. For truth and freedom. All of it is at stake for the people of this world, even if they don't know it. Those beside me do. In this moment, I fight for them, I bleed for them. I'll die for them again if it comes to that.   I was born for this.

Zora's words have always given me pause, particularly when they're directed at our past. I look back on those days when I wasn't there. The things I didn't say. Or couldn't because I was gone. I see how much that absence has hurt her, and I'm ashamed it's taken me this long. For too many deluded years I was under the impression that by leading my foes away from her and her mother that I was doing the right thing.   Wrong.   Even now, by doing the "right" thing, I realize I only keep erring. It was only when I included her that I started seeing things clearly, and I pray it's not too late for me to mend the damage I've done. I'm proud of her. Truly. And I hope to earn her respect as well, even if I'm somewhat concerned over the path she's pursuing with this whole "Black Viper" persona she's maintaining. Impressive, really. She's accomplished quite a lot. Aiming for more. Just don't get caught, you little shit...   Anyway, she was who I was thinking about when I went along with Kal, and I'm glad that my debt to the devil is paid, even if I know he'll call again. Done running though. I made the mistake of letting him back in once, but Zora led me to the truth. For her sake, I'll confront him, deny him, and maintain my dedication to Torm. Only to him does my loyalty lie from now on.   Kal got what he was looking for. Even if it unsettles me and a few of the others, I'm glad if anyone is choosing to meddle in the affairs of demons, it's the brightest among us. Can't match his wit. I'm hoping no denizen of the Abyss or Hell can't either. Betting on it, in fact. I feel bad for the divide it's caused, though I hope that can be mended in time. Orion particularly. Knowing the truth of what happened has given me pause, though it deepens my resolve to never leave him again like I know I can never leave Zora again either. My family won't go without me anymore, even if we all play our own dangerous games.   Now we're on to the Cassalanter affair, and I'm not sure what to expect, though my instincts say this is going to be a tough fight. I have faith Torm will guide me through. This noble house is entrenched with deals and workings of the worst kind, but I pray they're not beyond reason. Whether it be by my sword or by my mercy, I pray we can save the innocence left within that household, purge the evil that corrupts it, and maybe find a way to ensure Glasya's roots in the material world never take hold again.   Ambitious to be sure. Yet I remember what I once was. In Heaven and in Hell. Ambitious was the very least of the endeavors I pursued in those lives. I don't intend on changing that now.

Hearing the story from Kal, Sadachbia, and Honorine was a little unsettling, but I trust my friends. Just glad they managed to get out of that situation. Maybe even make a friend or ally along the way if Illeariettis is amiable to that. At least we share a common interest in seeing the destruction of the Cassalanters. I'm making it a point to look after Honorine, though. I hope the dragon's spirit considers my friend's wellbeing along with her desire for revenge.   At least the hoard was a boon to us. Orion especially. I know the imp has needed an upgrade for his weapons, so hopefully this will get him that much closer. As for the rest of us, this amulet will come in handy, especially with what we're about to do, given what we've learned about the Cassalanter estate and their numerous allies. Questioning that mage was as insightful as it was unsettling, and it looks like the Devil has overstepped a bit in the enemies he's accrued through eons of sabotage and deceit. But it's still our problem to deal with on the material plane, and we can't take any fiend lightly, much less those who are powerful enough to summon and entice them into service. Just as I had to show the mage what I really was, so I'm resolved to do so against the rest of that corrupted family, but in far more abrupt measures. I don't think there's any time or room for mercy in this. Not with what they would do with Vecna, Glasya, and the others.   I'm not looking forward to another potential with the Lord of Hell, but I gave my word. And I hope Kal knows what he's doing, but then, he always has. I've come to trust my friend's judgement as well as my own. Whatever happens at that summit, we'll face it together. And in that line of thought, I also wonder if there's another who I should bring along when we take this fight to our enemies.   Zora has proven herself beyond capable. Not that she ever had to, but now, I see the woman she's become as well as the warrior. She's been there once before and survived. I know she'd be a great help, it's just...what kind of father am I if I subject her to such potential harm? Or as I've come to realize, what kind of father forces her to sit and watch rather than take her fate into her hands? She deserves it as much as I do. As any of us do.   We're in this together. The choice is hers to make, I suppose. I'm glad we'll have one more night to brace for what comes next.

Is it safe to say we're all finding a common understanding with one another? I'd like to believe it's not overly generous given what we've accomplished and what we continue to do in our mutual efforts. They all brought me back, then wasted no time in getting right back to what we set out to do in the first place, and I've noticed how quickly I'm willing and able to dive right in beside them. Or how they continue to do the same for me. I'm even smiling more often. Laughing. The world is facing numerous threats that could end it all forever, yet there are still moments of peace. It strikes me as odd, but welcome. Human.   Hearing it from a fellow angel that I was free of Bolas' curse, and hearing that I may yet find the redemption I seek was cause to smile. Even after the mistakes that led me to seeking forgiveness, I see the Devil can't maintain his grip on me if I don't let him. And the friends I've surrounded myself with helped me realize that too. Then yet again as set about acquiring what we'd need to explore the depths and hopefully find that scale we're looking for, everyone proves themselves in the way they know how, for the benefit of all. We can all move on toward something better, especially with the help so freely offered.   I'm writing this listening to Illidrex play an old sea shanty for the crew. There's some celebrating happening after we took down the Obliterous, and yet again, I reflect on I feel more at peace than I have in a long, long time. At peace with knowing what I'm fighting for, and not just the fight itself.   I will prove myself to you, Loyal Fury, and I will do so through the duty you've asked of me. One day at a time, but I'm grateful for the days as they come.

...Maybe I should be writing this in the assumption someone else will eventually read it. Between Honorine and Zora...   Who am I kidding? I'm glad they did, especially given what the end result was. And I'm truly sorry, Zora. I couldn't let a friend die for me. Still can't. Especially now, given what I know. And if anyone reads this-   (Blood spatter. Illegible.)   They brought me back. Brought me back to my Morning Light. Did all of this. For me. Not that I didn't think we weren't friends. I know there are some who would probably just consider me a colleague, or so I thought. But after this...I meant it when I said they've done something for me I don't think I'll ever be able to repay. Not for my sake either. Maybe one day, if they have a family of their own and a daughter or son, they'll know. They saved me from a fate far worse than anything I've ever known, and I'm not talking about going back to Hell either.   I have friends again. Maybe even family beyond Orion and Zora. Despite my best efforts, it would seem. And I'm not sure how to tell them as much either. But I guess they'll just end up reading this at some point anyway, so, there you go, whoever's reading this. What you did will mean more than you know.   And now...Torm isn't listening to me. Still answers my calls and grants me power, but forgiveness is beyond me. At least for now. "Act for good as you see it." I won't justify what I did. I don't regret it. I acted to safeguard my friends. But I recognize it gave the Devil and evil a foothold, and for that, I must pay the price. As I ponder Torm's teachings and decrees and consider my future and that of my friends who have come to mean far more to me than I've told them, I consider something now. Something from my past I thought would be a regret forever.   Tyreal died for me, and I thought that the greatest injustice of all, especially to the noble Solar who embodied justice itself. But what did he see that I didn't? What did he see that was worth sacrificing so much for? I know now there are angels with differing goals than mine, some of which might even bring me into conflict with them. But Tyreal gave up justice itself to me that I might be freed. Justice offered itself for Wrath...   Which is needed now?   I can't be the angel I once was, but now I know that doesn't mean I need to be something less. Just different. "Act for good as you see it..." Justice and Wrath combined...   What does such a creature look like, especially acting for good as he sees it? My life returned to me, the circumstances revealed, I intend to find out.

Didn't think I'd find this. I'm only writing in it now because I don't know what else to do. Reading these pages, seeing dad's thoughts and words...   I'm so fucking mad at him! I'm so fucking mad at all of this! And I can't believe...   He's gone. Fuck you, dad. How could you do this? You left me, you left mom all those years, always telling us that you were trying to protect us and keep us safe, and then you go and fucking die?! How is that protecting us!? What am I supposed to do now?!   (scratched out sections, scribbles, water-stained paper)   Had to leave for a bit. Nothing seems to help right now, but I know having a hissy-fit won't. "Accept what is and move on," right dad? That's what you would have done. Guess I need to stay on track and remember what all of this was about. What I was doing all along. You were so focused on protecting mom and I that you never considered you might need protection too. But now I don't know where you are, whatever life you've gone to, so I guess I have to find that out first. Go from there.   Sadach-what's-his-name knows what happened. I'll talk to him first. Maybe there's more I can learn. Things haven't changed about the stone or the vault. Still need to do more to stop all this. I'll get Ranear to help once we figure out our next move. And when I do, it's time to take a page out of dad's book, because I'm going to find every last close of that necromantic cloning ox-fucker, Manshoon. Going to send them all to Hell where they belong.   -Zora Dad could have done it. I'll do it instead. Vault first. Set myself up for the long haul. Then that fucker will pay.

In two hours, I undid two years. I want to justify it. I want to say I did it for Honorine. For Kal. Like I did when we were in the sewers. Even for Ushen and freeing his soul. But now, with the frequency with which I apply that logic, the only justification I have is...   Is it wrong to say I believe this to be right? That I believed it to be the best path available to my comrades and I? Torm's regret, but his calm acceptance is something I'll never forget, especially now that I've been pulled so much further from him. The scent of fear. Taste of terror. The old sensations returned, all of them I'd tried to deny for so long. All of them so vile, yet so undeniably effective. Necessary? Maybe. Circumstances were dire. I don't know if I could have overcome that monster alone. One beam would have been my doom. Atka may have fared better. Kal as well. But what if they hadn't?   Angus told me he would find his hatred, but he would keep himself. What must I find? What am I going to lose?   And all the while, I wait. I wait for the exact moment in which he'll try to enslave me. Enslave Zora. Orion. Any of the others. Nothing he does is without conspiracy. Nothing he does does not carry value to his designs. Every move calculated. Every word meticulously placed. We underestimated him once, and we paid the terrible price. Now I work beside him at the behest of my god, of my own volition, because there is a greater threat approaching. Yet I wonder after what just occurred which is the greater threat: that which is coming, or that which is immediate?   The thought of my daughter taking up this weapon...he put that image in my head. Put that idea there knowing the damage it would do. Knowing the pain it would cause. Everything I do, I do to keep her from him. From Hell. She has to make it to the paradise I'm moving further and further from with every second. Obliteration is coming in several forms, and I will do everything in my power to keep her from that as well. Sacrifice my very soul, if that's what it takes. And perhaps it will.   Forgive me, Torm. Keep me on your path. I'll try. I'll try with all my might. Even if the attempt leaves me destroyed. At least I will have lived as the man I chose to be, despite the monster he would make me.

Destiny is a fickle thing. Is it ours to control or are we mere puppets of its whim? I've never been sure. Through different lives, different places, different times, I've wondered what mine would be and if I can do anything to change it. I've seen more than almost every mortal I've ever met, yet there's still so much I don't understand. So much I can't comprehend. But now, with what started as a simple assignment from the organization that affords my daughter and I a measure of anonymity turning into four separate conflicts eclipsing the material plane and beyond, destiny is coming. What more can I do but face it as well as I can, whatever fate will be mine by the end?   The Lord of Blades, the Life Equation, Nicol Bolas, and Hell's old enemies which I'm realizing may yet be mine again...War is coming. A great war with many sides, some of whom I know cannot be reasoned with or shown mercy. And through it all, Zora's future, the fate of my friends, even the soul of Ushen trapped within the blade...they are what I consider most and seek to safeguard. In this pursuit, there are mutual aspirations satisfied as I seek to retrieve the stone, but not all. With war on the way, I feel obligated to do what's right now more than ever. There are no guarantees as we move into battle. No assurances. Nothing we can control that will see us through any more than our own will and, in my case, Torm's judgement. What time I have left is mine to do with what I will, and I intend to make the most of it. Whether it be tomorrow or years from now, I will do what's right. That much, I can do.   I'll not let an innocent soul remain trapped so long as I have strength within me to see him liberated. I've failed as a father, but this man who gave so much all without knowing he had the chance to be one doesn't need to share in my mistakes. Before we leave for the Shadowfell, I would do one good thing. When we depart, I would do more as I look after my allies and protect them in battle. One step at a time, one fight at a time, one day at a time. So I've learned in war to live. Take each moment for what it is, seize upon the chance to do one's duty. To do good. If you survive, do it again in the next moment. Let the moments accumulate until they reach the end. The end of the fight or end of the day. If you're very lucky, the end of the war.   Ours is just beginning. The first moment is before me. I'll address the next when it comes.

The moment she said it, I knew in my heart there were far more powerful forces at play. Forces I'd hoped wouldn't be Zora's problem. But I'm starting to wake up to the truth, like Lady Silverhand said, that much like Dagult's hoard, there's far more happening than a simple mass of gold and gems. Now, the blade falls to me again, even when I was defeated. That sticks with me the most. I lost. I met an opponent I couldn't overcome, and knowing the power of the blade, one last stroke would have been all it took to take my very soul from existence. Or what would have been worse, Angus or Orion. I lost, but still the blade is mine again, for better or worse.   Who's responsible for prying it from the Raven Queen's clutches? Torm? The being trapped within the blade? I'll need to learn more, yet I don't know if I'll have the time. Things are moving so fast now. It's hard to catch my breath.   Yet I must. Answers are needed. And at the very least, I'm glad for the fellows beside me to help in this pursuit. There was a time when I would have shunned them or sent them away. Moved on to the next town or next job. But they've stood beside me time and again. Offered to help so freely. Angus and Orion...Don't think I'll forget what they did any time soon. Sadachbia and Illidrex...Two of them I get along with fine, the other two I have my differences with, and yet all of them are willing to stand together without hesitation.   I think I'm learning I can't judge or hold anyone or anything in harsh regard. Action with intention. Their actions speak for them. Their intentions have my welfare at heart. And for that, I owe them. My loyalty at the very least. My strength and my will along with it.   I vowed to use this weapon only with the intent of putting it down forever when a peace has been achieved that benefits all. That's what I fought for in Celestia. I now am honored to fight for it again. The company I get to fight beside will help me on this path, I know. And without the Devil's voice in the blade, at least for now, and Valenier's presence, it feels as though there's a nobler purpose to be pursued despite the darker forces now amassing against light and life. Perhaps the first step of that purpose lies in taking the blade home, to Arkan, to Ushen's family. He's still there, in some form. They deserve to know. I can do that much, at least.   Is it possible that the darkness within me might yet be used for good? Can I wield this blade beside my companions with honor and valor that would inspire greater hope and courage? I feel Torm charging me to stand firm now. I am equipped. Growing stronger. Surrounded by fellow warriors of equal strength and resolve. It now falls on me to answer that charge.   One day at a time. One day at a time...

The lights go out, the furniture comes to life, undead are everywhere, and the battle is on. Don't know whether to punch Lirelle or kiss her next time I see her. I know she had a hand in training Zora because I see a lot of how she fights in my daughter, but tonight, I know which is on my mind. Zora fights with a finesse and ferocity I've rarely scene, complimenting my every move and stacking behind me with utmost confidence. It's odd, but I feel more alive than ever taking on our foes together.   That's pretty much the theme of the fight as things escalate. We all answer as best as we know how, whether it's brawn or cunning. Magic or might. The dead keep coming, we keep putting them down. And divine power still flows through me to greater degrees that I can't explain but I'm no less grateful for. Sensing the presence of hated foes that are hidden from others. Smiting with searing radiance. As my friends battle around me, I move to where I'll make the biggest impact. Sometimes it's against a singular foe, sometimes against many. Doesn't matter. I'm not thinking anymore. I'm just acting. Reminds me of the past, long before I came to Faerun. So does the valor with which my companions fight and aid one another. Sadachbia with his healing, (still owe him a drink after this) Illidrex and Honorine with their precision, Angus and Atka with their strength. Kal with his arcana. Didn't see much of the imp, but I know he's there somewhere. When Illidrex erupts into radiant fury, I find a deeper layer of respect for him. We're not so different, that one and I. Our fights both internal and external reflect that.   Then Sadachbia is gone, and when he comes back nearly dead, there's two thoughts on my mind, no room for anything else. Get him safe. Show our enemy wrath. First one is easy. Second one not so much. Then Kal steps in, and I don't think I'll soon forget the gift he bestowed through his magic. Just for those few moments, I got to be my old self again. "Go all out," he tells me. I can do that. I was made for that. Especially against creatures of evil like the boneclaw that tried to kill a friend.   With the others beside me, there's not a doubt in my mind. This fight is decided. When it's done, wounded and weary though I am, though we all are, there's a familiar comfort that comes from knowing we stood against the darkness and won. I hope the others can feel that, though after our discussions, I'm not so sure. Illidrex and torture...I won't judge. I don't know what he went through but I know what went through. No one deserves that. Evil deserves wrath, retribution, even vengeance. But I won't commit the sin for which I know carries the sentence. I've done that enough. It saddens me to know others might have to learn from that folly the hard way like I did. Seems like Orion is on that path already, or has been. I know we have our differences, our perspectives on what was the best course for all of us, Orianna and Zora included. We may never agree. But I meant it when I said I was sorry. Not a day has gone by that I don't think about not being there for her when she passed. And now, for him when he went through whatever it was he went through.   I tried saving them from a fate like mine. That fate found them anyway. And I can't help but hate myself for it. For not doing enough. But I have to move on. Accept what is and move on. There's no changing the past, and my sympathy or self-loathing won't change that. Give them a better future. That, I can do.   Though I have to admit it's a lot harder now with Orion. He's working with the fuckers that are the cause of the darkness that's so pervasive in my life. The very ones that dragged me to Hell and turned me and so many others into the monstrosities we are. That corrupted some of the best and bravest I've ever known. So much pain, all because of them. All because of their evil. His evil.   What the fuck is he thinking?   I pray to Torm he wakes up from his delusions soon. Before it's too late. Because Hell will find a way. It always finds a way. He always finds a way to win with even the slightest inch. But maybe that's why I'm here. Now, in this place, where fate has brought us back together. When Hell makes its move to seize him, to seize any of us, I'll be there. They won't end up like me. Their fate won't be mine.   I vow this to Torm himself.

Just keeps getting better and better. Lots of confusion surrounding this stone, and before we can even get to ask it anything, we have our friend the inspector breathing down our necks. Can't fault him for doing his job. I know he needs to maintain order and safety in Waterdeep, even if the way he does it is misguided. We're just different pieces in the game, but I'm hoping we're on the same side of the board. So many pieces though...At least one of them has been revealed for what they really are, and I'm glad that axe knew to warn us. Feel like Torm is looking out for us still after a gift like that. Regulus needed a new axe anyway. I'm glad it's one that wants to protect the city. And now that Illidrex, Kal, and Orion have found Xanathar's lair, it's even better to have with us when we go purge the rats from that hole.   Glad Sadachbia could get us something from that stone, even though I have no idea why I don't remember having it despite what I was told. As long as we get what we need. And Xoblob's revelation...First Sadachbia tells me there's something terrible coming. Then the stone leads us to another who's discovered the same, and the stone is scared for its existence too. I've always believed there was something more to all of this, and the closer we get to the hoard, the more I start to feel like this is only the beginning. All of us are touched by destiny. I hope the others have fates that grant them some small measure of peace at the end of this, whatever's coming. And one that Zora can share.   For me? It's easier for me to want to go face whatever annihilating force is coming. Especially if I had anything to do with why it's coming by destroying souls. Didn't mean to. Never would have if it wasn't for the great deceiver himself. But that doesn't mean I'm forgiven. And I know exactly where I'm going when this is all over. Maybe I can do something good for this world before that time comes. Something that will leave a better future for Zora.   And in the meantime, helping my allies seems like the best way to go about securing that future for her. So off to settle this issue with Illidrex in the Dock Ward. It was all pretty suspicious from the start. Clear to me that something illegal is going on but I'm not one to judge. Just hope they'll leave Illidrex alone. Or that he's alive, for that matter. Honorine says he's clear, so that'll have to do for now, whatever it is he's up to. And not like we don't have other matters to attend to like trying to inform Lady Silverhand, so back to the Wandering Spirits. Glad to see Zora safe, but things never seem to be that simple.   Undead breaking in now...Perfect...

Always when I draw my sword, I only wish to do so when there's a necessary reason for it. When I wield it, I only wish to do so with valor. Having an enemy in front of me, someone or something that seeks to do me or mine harm, something that makes it clear that there's evil intent within it, then my conscious can be clear. As it was for the brief moments when fighting the Black Network and Xanathar's. I can feel alive and true in those circumstances. I often regret that what I'm best at is such brutal violence, but not in those moments. Not when my friends or my family need me. Then I can do good with what I'm good at.   But when I saw her face, lifeless, bloody...I realize I started that fight. I put Regulus on that path. We didn't know it was her. Fucking Hell, I'm still wondering how in all of creation she got here and how long she's been doing whatever the fuck she's been doing. But that wasn't what put her in danger. And I know it's not all my fault or Regulus' or anyone's. I just can't shake the sequence of events that led to her dying in my arms.   And if it wasn't for Torm...The Loyal Fury saw fit to answer my plea. I don't know why. I don't know if I'm worthy, but he heard me, and I've never been more resolute in my path, whatever the end of my life may lead me to. Even if Torm decides my ultimate fate is to be denied Heaven because of my failings, he gave me Zora back. At least, at the very least, I know I've done something right in pursuing my duty to uphold hope, justice, and honor in his name. Even righteous wrath when the time calls for it. But I dedicate my way to him. Zora is alive because of him. Torm be praised.   Now...I have so many questions for my daughter. Especially what she's seen and experienced with this stone. It knows me. It knows my name, and I have to assume, my past. There will be more to learn soon. More twists on this journey. I hope my companions can remain true throughout, for I know I'll need their help. To succeed but also to protect Zora, who I both fear and applaud is beyond my ability alone to protect. And with what Sadachbia has seen, I know there are more trials ahead. We have to be ready. I have to be ready beside her now, despite my best efforts to keep her safe and give her a life of peace...   Did I bring this upon her? Did I limit her freedom to choose which life she wanted? Maybe this is always where she should have been. By my side. And maybe then, Orianna would still be beside us too...   I wish I could change the past. There's a lot I wish I could change for that matter. But there's that which I can control and that which I can't. For now, I know there are a few things that I can do to help where I can. Illidrex, for example, and finding the one accusing him of his alleged crimes. Regulus and finding his way back to grace. Sadachbia, and our quest for the truth, however frightening that may be. Zora and...Renaer...Much as I'd hate to admit it, both of them trusted us with the stone. Trusted me with the stone. Even when there were devils in play, devils working for a noble family of Waterdeep, they both risked so much to bring us the stone. I respect their conviction and their bravery. What they've accomplished together.   So help me Torm, if he hurts her, I'll show him something worse than Hell itself. But until then, I'll help them. Little shits as they are, I'll help them. I have some consulting to do with the Stone of Golorr first.

That dwarf had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He'd made the wrong moves too. It wasn't the time to try and pick a fight, but he'd tried it nonetheless, with a grieving opponent who only needed a reason. The dwarf had given him a reason, and Nomad had given him death for it. Now he was on trial, but his mind was far from this place, searching for the spirit of his departed wife and the living daughter awaiting his return.   "He murdered 'em!" he could hear Shevra scream somewhere nearby. Her band of mercenaries had also been employed by the caravan heading north to Neverwinter, and it was one of her warriors who's body grew cold in the earth.   To his surprise, another voice silenced the arguments. Perhaps even the last one he expected.   "Murder implies premeditation or malicious intent, does it not?" the refined, almost aristocratic lilt posed to the tribunal.   "Ye were there, Silver!" the angry Shevra continued. "Ye were even the one to stop 'em afore he could kill 'em outright! Ye saw the whole thing!"   "I did indeed," the warforged answered, "and by that logic, I remain the only accountable witness to the altercation, which, by my reckoning was the product of escalation. Your man didn't throw the first punch, but Nomad was not the first to draw his sword."   That much was true. At least to Nomad who was currently replaying the events of the last day in his mind. Between wrestling with the news that his wife was dead, it was hard to concentrate. Silver seemed to have it sorted out well enough, however. At least he had a witness going for him. Strange, though. He thought the warforged didn't like him too much. Silver had tried hard to avoid him since he joined the caravan.   "Bah! Yer on his side! Damn the both of ye! I know me man, and he wouldna' done it like that!"   The baritone voice of the presiding cleric of Kelemvor and caravan leader spoke next. "You would swear to your account, Silver?"   Nomad held his breath.   "I would," came the warforged's reply.   There was a moment of silence before the cleric spoke again. "You have no substantiated claim, Shevra. Your man was already dead by the time we arrived, and Silver has offered his testimony. The matter is settled."   Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. Nomad was confident he'd soon be free to go on his way, but he knew the truth of what he'd done. He shouldn't have started the fight. The dwarf shouldn't have run his mouth and kept prodding until he finally said something about Orianna. It was the one thing that could have made Nomad snap in such a way. But he'd found a tender spot, and he'd paid the price. Nomad had been found innocent of murder, but he knew what was in his heart when he drove his sword home and ended the dwarf's life.   He could hear the laughter of his old nemesis and tormentor echoing in his mind, and there was nothing he could do to silence it.   The door to the holding wagon swung open, a tall and lithe warforged clad in silver, leather armor with a fine crossbow hung at this side stood before Nomad. "If I escort you to your camp, will there be any trouble?"   Nomad turned his hooded gaze to the marksman. "Should there be?"   Silver turned his remaining eye toward the dark warrior. "I'm merely trying to ascertain the nature of our relationship."   That made Nomad chuckle. "Our relationship..." Apparently Silver thought he was owed something now. "No trouble. Not from me."   "Very good then," Silver responded, stepping aside and offering Nomad a clear path out of the holding cell. "I will accompany you to your camp. For protection."   "Don't need protection."   "The protection isn't for you."   Another chuckle as he brushed past his fellow mercenary, the pair moving in silence past the stares and glares of the other members of the caravan. Toward the back of the train was Nomad's former campsite, much of it scattered and vandalized. The dark warrior sighed, then went about picking up his broken or dented cooking supplies. After a few moments, he noticed another set of metal hands helping him go about the task. Silver inspected the shredded canvas of what was once a tent, recognizing the cuts made from axes and scimitars. He noticed Nomad watching him, then bundled the mangled tent and set it beside the fire ring.   "You waiting for payment or something?" Nomad posed, discovering a tin cup that had managed to survive the destruction of his possessions.   Silver shook his head, retrieving a bent spoon and bending it back to shape. "Are you going to find them?"   "Find who?"   "The one's who did this?"   Nomad snarled, then shook his head. "They did this on impulse for what I did on impulse. No need for more blood over it."   "Hmm...Well I suppose that's the noblest outcome from all of this, given the circumstances. I admire your newfound restraint and urge you to hold to it. Next time I may not stop you, and if that is the case, I hope we don't find ourselves on opposite sides of the conflict."   He replied with a snort. "A threat, and a lament."   "A promise, and a lament. Don't be like the rest of them and assume I can't feel, Nomad. I can, and I can feel someone else's pain too. Pain and rage, if I'm not mistaken."   His fists clenched at the observation, but he shook away the tension after some deep breaths, then finished gathering his scattered belongings. Silver continued to watch him. Finally, Nomad sat across the broken fire ring from the warforged, gathering stones and reassembling the protective barrier that he might keep warm tonight.   "I've often found it takes one to know one," he said after a time.   "Your previous experience would prove accurate," Silver confirmed. "I had my doubts about you at first, which is why I thought it wise to afford you a generous distance before making your acquaintance. However, I saw the fight between you and the dwarf brewing, and I saw how you held on as long as you could. Kick a dog enough times and eventually it's going to bite. Our deceased colleague didn't seem to understand that."   Nomad sighed, then nodded. "And so the bloodshed continues."   "As it always will, my fellow warrior. It cares not for our efforts to curtail it."   He looked the warforged in his glowing eye. "Spoken like one who's shadow is conflict."   Silver bowed his head. "Who's shadow bears the same resemblance as yours."   Nomad kept his gaze locked on Silver, the warforged staring back all the while. In that glowing spark of Silver's soul, he detected an aged depth of experience and wisdom that he'd only seen when he resided in Celestia. Some of the other Solar had that look, though they had lived for millennia. Was Silver that old? He couldn't say, but the instinct regarding his earned wisdom remained. There was more than a few meager decades to this one's life.   "You think we'll ever find a place away from it?" he posed.   Silver tilted his head. "Away from what?"   "The fighting. The wars."   He didn't need to, but the warforged sighed, then shook his head. "No. Not in my experience. A man can change his nature, but he can't change his heart. And the heart drives the passion that fuels a man's talents." He held his open hand out before him. "Our talent is war, my friend. Let us not be ashamed of that."   Nomad found no fault in the statements. He nodded his agreement readily. With a degree of sorrow, but readily. "You've made peace with your talents."   Silver nodded. "So have you, despite this momentary displeasure. We can rest at ease because it is for peace that we make war in the first place."   It was a curious thing to Nomad that this warforged whom he hardly knew and had barely spoken with knew so much about him just from empathy and what he believed to be mutual experience. Of course he'd confirmed nothing to the observant Silver, but Silver had already drawn his own conclusions that were accurate enough. All while subtly revealing his true nature to Nomad as well. Out of respect. Not out of pity or arrogance. He simply spoke with a kindred soul. Nomad felt a sense of peace and sadness from that kinship all at once.   Silver rose. "I suspect I won't be seeing much of you after tonight. Should our paths cross again, I do hope it's for a mutual cause. You're not someone I'd want to see across from me, Nomad." He bowed his head. "I'm sorry for your loss."   Nomad watched him leave, the chirps from the evening crickets and song of a whippoorwil covering the warforged's footfalls away from his ravaged camp. Oddly enough, the conflicting emotions of peace and sadness began to subside. Something about Silver's words resonated with the warrior. He lifted his visor and stared into the night sky, thinking of his wife and praying the news was wrong. That somehow he'd return home and find her alive holding his daughter as they rushed out to meet him. He knew in his heart, just as he knew Silver's claims to be true about him, that it wasn't so.   "I'm sorry, my love," he whispered to the darkness, closing his eyes to hold back the tears. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you."   Silver's words came back to him. Practicing war to make peace. So many would claim that was a contradiction, but not those who had lived by such methods. Not those who embodied that duality every day and fought to toe the line that was so dangerously thin and separated the truly virtuous from the truly corrupt. He recalled why he fought now. Why he was so good at it. What that gift might bring to this world that it had brought to Celestia.   "Zora..." he whispered. His daughter would need him more than ever now.   His camp was destroyed. There was no sense in staying the night. He counted the coins in his pouch, relieved there was enough there to buy a riding horse. The night was young, but he knew he wouldn't need sleep. Not till he held Zora in his arms and made sure she knew it would all be all right.   He was off soon enough. The conversation with an unlikely but kindred soul echoed alongside the sound of his horse's hooves. His resolve to give his daughter the best life he could, even without her mother, sustained him through several, long nights of travel back to Neverwinter.

Sometimes I wonder if things are changing too fast. I've often noticed there's not much I can do to alter the course of history, fate, divine will, whatever you want to call it. I just try to get by in this world and do the best I can, but here I am getting far more invested than I've been since the War. Not exactly transient in my ways anymore. And now...First it was the dream, then all of us meeting, and now an ancient wizard returns to enact gods know what kind of evil...   Feels a lot like fate or divine will to me. I learned a long time ago not to believe in coincidences. Now, I guess I have to decide what role I want to play in all of this. Something I haven't had to do in a long time and didn't think I ever would again.   I wonder where the others stand on it, though. I know to a few of them this is nothing more than a golden opportunity, and maybe it is. But to others, they're seeing the bigger implications. I'm probably overthinking this. After all, there's always going to be an evil overlord or maniacal fiend looking to seize power or wealth. If we can stop one of them and make ourselves rich at the same time, they have every right to think of this as nothing more than a fortuitous circumstance. So do I, I guess. But I can't help but feel I shouldn't take this lightly, so in the hopes that I'm wrong, I go forward in the assumption that I'm right and that there's bigger forces at work here than we yet realize.   It makes me think of Arkan and his son. I didn't know Ushen or any of the Scarred, but I know of their deeds. I know Ushen wielded immense power of life and death, and in the end, made a choice that cast him into oblivion. He left behind a mourning father, a group of friends that were family, and from what I can tell, a daughter he never knew. I'm blessed enough to know mine, and know there isn't a length I wouldn't go to save her or give her the best in life, and I owe that largely to Arkan and his son for the choice they made to answer a call. Fate's call, the Raven Queen's, it doesn't matter. They answered it. Maybe not at first, but upon realizing the truth, they didn't blink, even in the face of annihilation.   I look back on my path and the worlds I've walked. The lives I've lived. Perhaps I've answered in my own way, each choice leading me to this place. I wonder what calls might yet come to me, and what choices I'll have to make still and if I'll make the right ones or not. Are they as significant as the ones I made in the past? Or more so? I may never know until the moment is upon me. I don't think we ever do. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.   For now, I plan to do what I can to look after my friends. Yes, friends, at least for the most part. I plan to honor the sacrifices others have made before me. I plan to take down another tyrant vying for power, and then I plan to return to my daughter when it's all said and done. And I'll do it all one step at a time. It's time to go see the sages about this stone.

"How many has it killed?" the chain devil managed between gasps. Each breath was ragged after miles of fleeing in an attempt to regroup, the monster in pursuit and showing no signs of tiring. Fueled by its rage, armed with a weapon of hate, and driven by the singular purpose of annihilation. It was close. It could smell their fear.   "I didn't see!" his captain answered, the barbed devil keeping step with him.   "Five corporals at least!" another devil shouted.   "It ripped Syxtus in half!"   "Their very souls are gone! Gone! What is this monster?"   Bazixeles motioned them closer, barking orders and forcing them to heel as they formed ranks. There were no answers to their cries for help. Not immediately, anyway. They were ordered by the Amnizu to fall back, regroup at the forward stronghold along the Styx where the beast was reportedly heading. Apparently, assistance awaited them there. A pit fiend had been dispatched. Surely one of Hell's most terrible soldiers would be enough to quell this renegade being. With his troops formed, they made their way further along the banks of the Styx, vigilant for the threat.   Not much further ahead, a distinctive crackling echoed across the deceptively calm waters beside them. Flames each carried their own call, every flickers' tongue known to the beasts born and honed by fire, and none was more distinct than those controlled by the most powerful of devils. Bazixeles motioned his remaining troops forward, bidding them kneel when the pit fiend rounded the approaching bend. He did the same upon approaching his superior, the identity of the general already known to him.   "General Abraxis," he managed between breathes. "The beast isn't far behind. It has already-"   The pit fiend towered over the chain devil, his glowing, crimson glare driving the subordinate even lower as he snorted in disgust. He shrugged his powerful shoulders, adjusting the ornate breastplate with the gold and black motif of Nessus. Then, he simply passed the troop of devils by.   "You will remain to gather the pieces," the hulking devil instructed. "See to it that every scrap is gathered and returned to Nessus. Our Grand Duke has plans for this one."   Bazixeles bowed, rising and shuffling past the general as he formed his remaining troops. "It will be done, general. What is this beast? It's no demon or monster from another plane, and it stinks of Heaven even if it looks like one of us."   The pit fiend spun, fist lashing out with a ferocious backhand that sent Bazixeles soaring. The chain devil careened into his fellows, bowling over the rest of the troop, their combined mass still unable to stop the force of his launch. All cowered below the general as he slung the cruel and impossibly large club from his back, its many barbs sinking deep into the sands of the ground as he pulled it slowly forward toward the lesser devils.   His grip tightened as he rolled the weapon in front of him, stopping just short of the dazed chain devil. "This beast is what happens when a devil forgets their place. Now...watch what we do with traitors and usurpers."   The lesser devils collected themselves, more than happy to obey the towering fiend's instructions and let him sort out the mess. None of them were eager to tangle with the monster that had been unleashed, but there was a mutual curiosity that started to permeate the atmosphere about them, drawing their focus despite the danger if they lingered.   Was this beast truly stronger than a general of Hell?   The wait was short. Abraxis kept his club close at his side, his grip tightening when a shroud of black mist, small at first, then broader and bearing the resemblance of skeletal wings started to advance toward them. From the veil of smoke, a set of eyes shone with a disturbing, simple whiteness, as if to contradict the terrible being possessive of such a visage. A false sense of purpose, luring to their doom any who dared suspect mercy. And the blade in its hand pulsed and hummed with a deep, harrowing hunger, ever-eager to feast on a soul. Any soul. Especially theirs when wielded by the vessel of rage and hate.   Abraxis snorted, hefted his weapon, and with one great heave of his wings, closed the distance to the monster with a ferocious charge. A thunderous crack rippled the surface of the Styx from the force of their impact, and the devastating collision was made all the more terrifying by the frightful reality that two titanic forces had now met, and the lesser devils looked on in horror as they saw their general hurled aside like chaff. Abraxis tumbled through the sand, blood pouring from the gash in his shoulder, a line staining the ground where he passed. Bazixeles stood at the front of his troop, holding them in place as he pondered which duke of Hell to appeal to that they might be saved. The monster turned its terrible gaze to them, but unable to resist the allure of fresh blood, unleashed itself upon the wounded pit fiend now trying to claw its way back to its feet. Spectral wings and that terrible blade ripped into Abraxis in a savage display of power as blood went flying, one of the general's arms simply ripped from its socket. He tried to counter, his remaining limb managing an attack that forced his assailant back, but only for a moment. In that brief span, the monster had already closed the distance. The blade slammed home through Abraxis' chest. A red glow pulsed brighter, synchronized with the monster's heartbeat. Abraxis stared in disbelief, just before his body withered and turned white as the very essence of his being, the currency upon which Hell itself was powered, was drained and obliterated by the cursed blade all beings would come to fear. What little was left of him dissolved to dust, and Abraxis was no more.   Bazixeles held his ground, but also held his troops in position behind him, ready to attack first and give them time to flee should the beast come for them next. As the misted silhouette turned to him, his fears coming to fruition as he stood ready to face oblivion, he remained defiant, even casting his chains out before him and ready to fight till the bitter end. To his surprise, the smoke surrounding the beast parted, revealing the striking being for what it truly was. Bazixeles had seen angels before. Even a corrupted one. But whatever this creature was, neither Heaven nor Hell was its realm any longer. It was made for something else entirely. As it stalked toward him, the chain devil began to realize he'd soon know the terrible purpose.   "When it attacks me, flee to the stronghold and inform our generals what you've seen," the devil ordered his troops. "I'll slow it down."   The devils behind Bazixeles stared for moment, each of them fully aware that their lieutenant was offering to sacrifice his very soul that they might escape. The beast stalked closer, but none of them shrunk back. The chain devil turned to them, ordering them to fall back. The beast took another step closer, and still they held. Before Bazixeles could bark the order for them to withdraw and throw himself into a suicidal attack, the corrupted being before them stopped, its eyes narrowing and head lowering.   "Leave," it told them.   Bazixeles and his fellows flinched, the creature addressing them the last thing they expected.   "Leave..." it snarled once more. "I won't be able to stop...stop myself...not again..." It steadied itself. "Leave..."   Bazixeles didn't hesitate this time. He motioned for his troops to fall back, and all of them were happy to obey. Yet despite the danger and those under his command in full retreat, Bazixeles lingered, regarding the twisted being that was so horridly savage a moment ago, but then was able to offer mercy the next, however forced. It displayed order and discipline.   Law.   "Why?" the chain devil dared to pose.   It held his stare, the two beings sharing an unspoken respect. "Because...I can still honor...valor."   The chain devil inhaled sharply, but lingered no longer. One last look at the creature, then he was off. He and his troops ran as fast as their legs could carry them, reporting to the stronghold to find an emissary from Nessus waiting for them. When they delivered their report, they were shocked to receive orders to stand down and return to their posts. The beast had been dealt with, or so they were told to believe and relay to any devil that asked. As far as they were concerned, the incident had been contained. But Bazixeles knew the truth, even if he would never be allowed to say it.   Something had escaped Hell this day. Something that was never intended to leave the realm. For years, he would contemplate the significance of the event, wondering if he would ever see the consequences of that fateful confrontation.

I would have thought fate was intervening the moment I saw that demonic circle. But there was the dream before that, the familiar faces after, and everything else that's happened since. I wonder what this means for me, but more importantly, for Zora. I've always feared that one day I'd leave on some mission and not come back. She knows this. She accepts it, just as I do for the possibility it is. But I don't want to leave her, and I move forward with caution now that the stakes are only going higher. But there's a sense of resolve I haven't known in a while, and it comes from the people around me, I'm surprised to admit.   "Don't be ashamed of your face."   Kal's words to me. I don't know how much torment he faced at Hell's hands or what he was made to do, if anything at all. But he's retained his compassion, and while my mind was focused on addressing what I thought was a threat, he was more concerned with my wellbeing. Something only Zora and Orianna used to do, but then, they were the only ones I ever let close enough to express that sympathy. And then Angus...No hesitation. Simply, "how can I help?" I'd tell him more, but I'm beginning to realize there will be a time and place. Till then, I'll honor him the best way I know how: by fighting evil at his side as a brother.   Looks like we have a new home. It didn't come without its share of complications, but it also feels like a small victory for a number of reasons beyond the fact that we have a home now. For me, I'm realizing that there are walls within me that are either fallen or weakening. Where once I called upon the powers of Hell and saw it as a curse, I've already done so twice around them, and with the knowledge that they don't judge. They trust me to use it for good, much like any warrior with a sword in his hands. It's a tool. Nothing more. Nothing less.   Is this all it is now? I know better than to reveal this secret to the world for what it might attract, but around my companions, the circumstances seem clearer. Defined by intention. I learned long ago that evil will always exist. Darkness is an extant absence of light. One cannot eradicate the other, but it can influence what is revealed and what is hidden. What's upheld or what's destroyed. My being is a cursed one, yet from how they see me, whether it's with hope like Angus or with indifference like Illidrex, I wonder now if this curse might be molded into something more. A subversion of hate and acceptance of hope. I'm sure Asmodeus is laughing at that, but it's enough for me. At least for now.   Anyway, for the first time in a long time, I feel nobler. More aligned with what I've always meant to do. And despite how much it hurt, plunging my hand into that portal and helping to close that link to the Abyss felt a victory. Tearing the demons apart was a triumph knowing it safeguarded my friends and the folk of Waterdeep. I just wish the Watch could have seen us when we were fighting rather than trying to talk our way out of the alleged crimes. I trust there is a peaceful and honorable solution to this, but I know it'll cost us. I have an idea for it, as well as how I might find out more regarding the stone of Gallore and what's going on with the embezzled fortune.   First I'll talk to Volo and Floon. Then it's time to pay a visit to an old employer. Hopefully he's feeling charitable.

"That Nomad is asking for you," his server informed him.   Durnan lifted his eyes from the contract the mason had provided for him to fix the hole in the eastern side of the Yawning Portal. Upon doing so he remembered he also needed to contact the mage's about reinforcing the glyphs Nomad and his fellows had repaired when this whole thing began. It seemed like ages ago, but with so much happening in the time he'd met them, Durnan wasn't surprised. Adventurers would stay true to their nature. He knew. He used to be one.   "Tell him I'll be out in a minute," the old warrior replied.   She nodded. "He said to take your time. No rush."   "You serving him?"   "Yeah."   "What's he ordering?"   "Mead. He's on his third."   "He paying?"   "Yeah," she answered after signaling to one of her fellows. "In advance. Gave me enough for two bottles before he asked for you."   Durnan grunted, then waved her off, returning to his work and planning how to allocate funds to the various needs of his enterprise. She left him to his task. After another chime of the clock, he realized he wasn't going to finish his task any time soon, so he thought it best not to keep Nomad waiting any longer. Knowing that one, he'd stay and drink all night till they spoke. Hopefully he wasn't drunk already.   The old tavernkeeper emerged from his office, spotting his hooded acquaintance at the end of the bar, back to the corner of the Yawning Portal, head hung over his goblet of mead. After scanning the room, he noted the others in attendance. Most of them regulars. Most of the company he'd seen Nomad with before too. No troublemakers today. He glanced at his reliable weapon hanging above the bar. An old habit. He then turned to Nomad and nodded to him as he approached. Nomad nodded back.   "What you need?" he asked.   The warrior looked up, meeting his gaze. "Think I know who or what's been taking an interest in the Yawning Portal."   He spread his hands before him. "Enlighten me."   "Mindflayer. We found it in the sewers when we were looking for Floon."   Durnan blinked twice. "What makes you think it's the one messing with my business?"   Nomad shrugged. "Sadachbia says there was a psychic presence when he got shunted through your wall. Mindflayers are some of the only things I know that do that. Or can mess with magic sigils. And this one had a mage with him too, along with that red-haired one that tried picking the fight with the warforged the other night. Two plus two is four."   Now the old barkeep's expression turned more serious. "Where'd you say this was?"   "Sewers. Xanathar hideout. And they had some kind of abomination down there too. A mindwitness, whatever that is. It's dead now. So are most of the Xanathar gang."   "Nine hells! You trying to get yourself killed?"   Nomad huffed, took a swallow from his cup, then stared ahead, waiting for Durnan to continue. When it became clear he was waiting for an answer, he simply answered, "no."   "And your first thought was to come back here?" the old warrior pressed.   "Meeting Floon, Volo, and Neverember here in a bit. We're gonna talk about what happens next because there's more to this than we first thought."   "You got that much right, you damn fool. If you haven't considered this already, you ever think you're making more enemies than you can handle?"   Another grunt from the dark warrior. "That's one of the other reasons I'm here. My enemies don't need to be yours. Came to ask if it's OK if I keep staying here, otherwise I'll move on, but I'll still keep you in the loop if I can."   Durnan offered his own harrumph before his eyes narrowed. "And why would you do that?"   "Because you did something for me you didn't have to the first night I came here."   "...And that's it?"   "That's it."   This time he huffed, then huffed again as he regarded the strange man before him. "Damnit, Nomad...You're going to get yourself in a whole heap of trouble."   "I know. I already have."   "No you don't," Durnan counted, his tone steady. "This is no place for a hero, and you're acting like one. Even from what I've gathered with you and Zhentarim. You don't fit the mold."   Another nod, he finished his drink, then stood. "Yeah. I know that too. But sounds like you don't need me to be your problem anymore, so I won't be."   "Hey hey, sit down." Durnan offered Nomad his stool back and refilled his goblet. This time with a better vintage. "This isn't the first time I've harbored someone with heat on them. Probably won't be the last. Just don't wreck the place when your enemies come for you. Take it outside."   The darkness of the hooded visage stared back at him for a few moments. Eventually Nomad returned to his seat, then took a swig from his goblet. "Thank you."   Durnan waved him off. "You came here with good intentions. I appreciate that, and you trying to help me. Pretty sure I'm getting the measure of you at this point."   Nomad cocked his head as he chuckled at the statement, taking another swallow. He stared into his cup for a moment, Durnan observing him as he did so until he finally spoke again. "You're the only one with known access to Skullport, right?"   "As far as I know," the barkeep replied.   "That's why I'm thinking the mindflayer has an interest in what goes on here," Nomad finished. "But it's just a guess."   "I appreciate the warning. Hope you can find out more as well. Now are you planning on getting drunk? Looks like you're halfway there."   Nomad looked back to his cup. "Was thinking about it. Not sure yet."   "Something else on your mind?"   Another drink. "Just making peace with my choices. Not looking to make any more mistakes or put anyone else in harm's way. And recognizing your point."   "Which one?"   Nomad glanced over his shoulder to a nearby table where the giants that were Regulus and Angus laughed and drank. Atka was with them too, doing the same, and Sadachbia, while a bit more reserved, was still in on the revelry. He turned back to Durnan. "This is no place for a hero. I'm just hoping the wrong man in the right place can make all the difference."   Durnan chuckled, wiping out the inside of a glass when he saw Regulus approaching. "I think you got that a bit mixed up."   Nomad took another drink. "Maybe."

These Xanathar mercs know how to secure the place, I'll give them that. After the boulder comes down, magical glyphs, oil traps, and giant, swinging logs all bar our way. If Regulus cares at all, he doesn't show it. Barges right through the worst of it and paves the way. The Imp takes a more calculated approach, flies up and cuts the lines on the traps. Some magic from Jain reduces the flames from the oil traps, and some clever druidcraft from Sadachbia keeps the runes from blowing us to the 9 Hells. Well done all. I scramble up the boulder ready to help a few of them over, but then Regulus is facing down a room full of crossbows. After he scares the piss out of a few of them, I'm jumping in to help, and fuck if I know how, but somehow I'm sliding down the slope on his shield, clearing the enemy lines, and then even the shield kicks out and almost finishes the one right in front of me after he's pinned to the wall by Regulus's spear. A quick slash, his head rolls, and they've lost all taste for the fight. After they flee, we loot the room. A trapper is waiting for us. Tries to make a meal out of me, but the others are there to help, and I'm free soon enough. Honorine disappears while this is happening, but is able to scope out what's ahead. Renaer is itching to get to Floon, so we're moving.   Honorine is back and warning us about what's ahead. A monster in the room we're trying to cross, Duergar, and even a mindflayer are ahead. We know it ain't getting easier from here, but we have to press on. The thing they're calling "the experiment" tries to drag a few of us in the water as we cross. Regulus and Atka almost get pulled in, but we manage to make it through after we decide this isn't the fight we're looking for. But Torm's fury, the next room erupts into chaos as we try to get to Floon. That troublemaker from the Yawning Portal is down here along with a mage, a set of gazers, the Duergar clerics, and some little monstrosity that's a brain with legs and claws. Before the mindflayer leaves through a portal, it aggravates an abomination I've never seen before, and Sadachbia calls out to be careful of the "mindwitness." Things aren't going well after the mage unleashes a storm of spells on us, but we're all finding our resolve. I hope the others don't remember or don't care about what I did, but I know Asmodeus is smiling after I unleash the power of his influence to try and save some of them. Didn't see what else I could do, but I wasn't gonna let them die down there, even if it complicates things moving forward. At least it does the trick along with some Zhentarim help harassing the mindwitness. I take the fight to the mage while the other enemies are too scared of what I am to keep pressing harder. Everyone's looking out for each other now. We get our fallen friends back up. Jain uses his magic to bend gravity to his will and turn it on our enemies, and Atka burns the little brain to death some acid to help Jain's counter assault. Kal puts his owl and magic to deadly effect, that little beast of his ripping enemies apart, eye for eye. Regulus and Honorine are clearing up the rest while Sadachbia is healing us all the while. When I put down the mage, everyone closes in on the mindwitness. That beast is imposing, but so are we. It's dead pretty quick, and I'm beginning to realize this is no ordinary group of fellows I've fallen in with. There's a reason we were all in that dream together, even if I can't see it yet. 9 Hells, been a long time since I've seen warriors like this. Even longer since I fought beside this many. Glad they're on my side.   Floon is in rough shape, but we get him out. (Fuck, Regulus is strong...) After we heal him and get him something to eat and drink, it's easy to see why they mistook him for Renaer. We make the most of what we can out of their stashed goods. A few trophies and some spoils will go a long way in the future, and the gold they left us is appreciated. Now it's time to figure out why in all of Heaven's name there's a mindflayer in the sewers beneath Waterdeep.   What's really going on here?

Day starts off well enough. Rainar is meeting us at the Portal. I keep making contacts with the Zhentarim agents here. Hoping I can do what I came here to do and stay out of the worst of this. Doesn't seem like a place for any would-be heroes. Regulus and Orion have a little moment, but Durnan takes it well even though the Regulus shatters a keg of ale. All in good fun. Honorine adds to the voices in my head after that. Not as much fun when I can't tell if the voice is real or not. Not her fault.   Rainar shows up and we set off. Thankfully working with the Zhentarim has given me an idea of what we can look for to find the Xanathar hideout. Along the way, Kal tells me he and Illidrex are being followed by some drow of a gang or band of some sort. Bregan D'aerthe. Don't know what that means, but Kal tells it to me in Abyssal and Angus doesn't like it, but I vouch for him and let the big guy know Kal can be trusted. It's enough for him. His honor hasn't changed a bit.   We find the lair pretty quick with all of us looking. Trail ends at a sewer cap, and before we head in, we gear up and get what we need, then we head down. Right away we're confronted by beholders, or littler versions of their kind. They hold us up, tell us they're ordered not to let anyone by. Honorine and Orion manage to talk their way past, but then I fuck the whole thing up when I think I can play diplomat and maybe broker some peace between Xanathar's guild and mine. Dumb mistake. They try to kill us quick after that, and the fight is tough but we manage it. Now I'm blaming myself for putting them in a bind, but Illidrex waves it off. Tells me to get over it. We got someone to save. He's right, so we move on.   Not long till we run into the next fight after that. One of the passages lead to a tavern basement and inside is a halfling and two giant rats beside her. Warns us to stay away, and when I step into the room, she's already turned into a wererat and attacking. Thankfully Angus and Regulus are there with their silvered weapons, and they're done quick enough. We explore a bit and find some locked doors and steps that lead up into a halfling pub of some sort, all of them hairy. All of them halflings. We note it, but then we're heading deeper into the sewers.   Minor obstacles bar our way but we make it past well enough. Even find some gear and other items before we happen upon some goblins. Thankfully, they're not looking for a fight. We move past, then find ourselves in a bigger cavern and bridge guarded by two kenku. Illidrex sneaks in and manages to dodge a nasty trap that drops a giant boulder. Even manages to push one of the kenku off the bridge while he's at it. But now we have to get to him before anything else happens.

He'd tracked it to the private wharfs of Lord Valenier. Old senses from Heaven and Hell had their uses, especially when it came to tracking fiends. This creature was a bit too infernal to keep it from registering on his divine senses. It might have even been a cambion of sorts, but that was irrelevant. It had killed a member of the Zhentarim a month ago, an agent of the Order a week back, and now the bounty posters were up all over Waterdeep, thus Nomad's involvement. It didn't matter who paid, just as long as they paid. So he put his skills to use, and he'd been the only one capable or willing of tracking the villain this far.   Now for the matter of trespassing on a noble's property...   A quick step and jump had the issue of the fence remedied in short order as he heaved himself over it. If he got caught, he'd manage. Hopefully the guards wouldn't mind him taking care of their problem for them. None were in sight at the moment. Most were busy chasing after the devil that had just darted into their midst. He tailed a few, moving as silently as his armor allowed and blending into the shadows of night, glad for yet another useful talent he'd retained from an old life as he became invisible to mortal eyes. They eventually led him to a moored clipper, Valenier guards crawling all over the ship in search of the trespasser. Nomad grinned. They'd never find what they were looking for. The devil had already eluded the likes of them dozens of times. So he waited, knowing his chance would soon come.   An hour of searching later and the guards had turned up nothing. The captain of the Valenier guard himself arrived, the veteran dwarf barking orders for the guards to return to their posts before speaking quietly with different sergeants about what to do next. He searched the clipper himself, then waved the issue off, ordering a small detail to keep their eye on the ship before returning to parameter watch. Nomad shook his head. He'd have to intervene or those guards would be dead by morning. Another hour of waiting, then the guards started passing a flask between themselves. He crept ever so slowly forward, disguising his invisible footfalls with each lapping wave as he made his way on board the ship. From there, his divine senses led him into the hold, his prey hiding nearby.   He sniffed the air. "So you're a demon. Thought you might have been from the Hells at first."   Silence, even though he knew exactly where the cambion was.   "You can walk out of here in chains but alive, or not walk out at all," he whispered, knowing the demon was likely to choose the latter.   As it sprung from cover, his blade was already moving.   *************************************** "I find all of that rather hard to believe, Gerard," Arkan replied as he assessed the hooded warrior standing over the body of the cambion.   "Then we'll pull the hood off an' get to the bottom of this," the dwarf captain replied, marching forward at the trespasser. "Best let us see yer face, friend. Need to know you ain't no demon yerself."   "You'll find I'm worse if you lay a hand on me, dwarf," came the rough reply. "I didn't come to fight you but I will if you make me."   Gerard laughed, looking back to Arkan, the nobleman flanked by an entourage of fully armored and heavily armed guards, all ready to beat this stranger to a pulp. Arkan tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the warrior. Gerard noticed him regarding the corpse of the demon as well. He knew his friend better than to interfere when the man was putting pieces of a puzzle together, and evidently, Arkan saw a puzzle worth solving. Gerard held his ground, smirking at the dark warrior.   "Ye have a hard time puttin' them pants on in the morning?" the dwarf prompted next.   The stranger's blackened visage stared ahead. "Not really."   "Woulda thought so with the size of them balls ye seem to have."   A snort came from the darkness beneath the trespasser's hood, but that was all. Gerard kept grinning. He liked the warrior standing before him. At any moment, Arkan need only give him the word and he would put this stranger in a world of hurt. The warrior probably knew it but he stood indifferent. And until then, he'd killed the cambion and saved a few of the Valenier guard in doing so. That wasn't lost on Gerard, who held his ground and waited for his orders, hoping Arkan would know what to do given the nature of the situation.   "How did you track the demon?" the nobleman finally spoke, drawing the stranger's attention.   The dark warrior stared ahead for a moment. "Carefully."   "It was invisible, slipped through the parameter, even made it past ten of my guards before the eleventh noticed something was off, and I pay the eleventh because she has a useful talent for sniffing out fiends."   The stranger's head turned to the woman standing at Arkan's right. Arkan could tell he was assessing her, no doubt noticing the symbol of the Raven Queen emblazoned on her tunic. Though he couldn't see the warrior's eyes, he knew when they shifted back to him after a slight turn of his head. A nod, and he knew all he needed to.   "Which god do you serve, paladin?" Arkan posed next.   "The one I choose, and don't call me that."   The slightest of grins appeared on Arkan's face. "A name, then."   "Call me Nomad."   "Very well, Nomad. You trespassed on my docks. Caused quite a stir among my guards. I'm curious, were it not for Gerard keeping an extra detachment nearby to catch whoever came out of the ship, how were you planning to exit my property?"   "Same way I came in."   "Enlighten me."   "I wouldn't have killed your guards, nobleman, if that's what you're asking."   "So you say, but a bounty of 100 gold pieces can make men ignore many virtues."   The stranger stiffened. Gerard watched the careful dance as Arkan set about dismantling this man who thought he could cling to his secrets. He'd seen it dozens of times, but it never grew mundane for the dwarf. Arkan was already sorting the man's intentions, his origin, and whether or not to have him thrown in the stockade or worse. It was up to the stranger to maneuver his way out of that fate.   "I'm not hunting a demon for the sake of principles," the dark warrior replied.   "Hmm...You're so certain of that?"   "I'm certain I'm good at what I do, and I want to get paid for it. If there's a fine for trespassing on your property, then tell me and I'll pay it."   "The fine is arrest and then you're in the hands of the magistrate," Arkan was quick to reply, Gerard still grinning as he watched the walls closing in on the stranger. "But that fine can change, depending on what I decide to tell them."   A growl came from the darkness of the warrior's hood. "You think your men would have handled the demon better?"   Arkan's grin widened. "I'm certain they wouldn't have, given what I know about them and what I know about you."   "Then you have everything you need, nobleman. Tell the guard whatever story you think is best, but we'll always know the truth of it."   "Indeed," Arkan finished the discussion, turning to Gerard. "Dispatch a messenger. Tell the magistrate the bounty on Miraxas has been claimed and I'm overseeing transfer of both the claimant and bounty."   Gerard nodded, chuckling as he did so and turning to the stranger. "All over now, lad. You done did it."   "Follow me, Nomad," Arkan instructed the newcomer. "Let's discuss the fee of your trespass."   Another growl from beneath the hood. "How much more money do you need, nobleman?"   "None from you," he was quick to retort. "Keep the bounty, but I still mean to collect. I have a task I think you'd be quite suited for."   ********************************************* "Are you going to tell me how you found this one?" Arkan posed a week later.   Nomad scoffed, then threw the Abishai forward, the white scales on its face somehow blanching even paler as it stood before Arkan Valenier, whom it knew well. The creature, beaten quite severely, trembled before the man and its captor. Arkan knelt before it, meeting it at eye level and noting how Nomad had bound its mouth shut as well, neutralizing all threats.   "No torture," Nomad stated after the nobleman had inspected the quarry. "Or this is the last time we do business."   The man's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "Done."   Nomad didn't know if he'd annoyed Lord Valenier or if he'd given the man yet another reason to assess him, thereby betraying even more of his history to the perceptive noble, but it didn't matter. The Abishai was on Arkan's list for performing acts of loyalty to Tiamat, and where Nomad didn't care much for the one who'd replaced the queen of dragons, he'd been personally acquainted with the former's cruelty. As far as he was concerned, anyone who did Tiamat's will deserved a life sentence. But that was up to Lord Valenier now.   Arkan motioned for the guards to remove the prisoner, then motioned for Nomad to follow him deeper into the estate. "I trust the terms of our agreement were upheld?"   Nomad offered a nod as he fell in step with the man. "No one saw."   "I'll know if you're lying to me, Nomad."   "No one saw. You have my word."   "Hmm...I trust that carries more weight than you believe I believe it does."   Another scoff. "If you say so."   "I believe you," Arkan concluded at last. "You can breathe easy. Your payment."   Arkan pulled the pouch of gold from his overcoat, along with another, smaller purse. He handed both to Nomad. Upon inspecting the contents, even the veiled visage beneath his hood couldn't hide his surprise as his head snapped up.   "100 in gold and another 10 in platinum?"   "I took the liberty of retrieving the bounty from the magistrate," the nobleman explained. "To expedite things. The platinum is your compensation for services rendered. Were there expenses?"   The hooded visage tilted sideways. "I took it that expenses were my problem."   "I'm hoping for repeat transactions, Nomad. Your trespassing is no longer a factor as I understand your disposition at this point, thus, I'll pay your expenses in exchange for future work."   The warrior shook his head. "Thanks, but you don't know enough about me to make that kind of arrangement safely. And I don't like being forced into a corner."   "It was your choice to follow your bounty, illegally, onto my property, was it not?" Arkan replied. "I didn't force you to agree to the terms of restitution for your legal offenses either. As to the matter of my safety in my proposed arrangement, I assume you're referring to your involvement with the Zhentarim. They're business associates. Among many within Waterdeep. Anything else?"   Arkan could hear a low growl from beneath the shadows of Nomad's hood. "A thing or two. If you have paying work, I'm interested. I'll work for you again under one condition."   "Which is?"   "You tell me all you know about me right now. I'm not doing any jobs looking over my shoulder."   The nobleman weighed the request for a moment, then offered his customary, miniscule grin. "You're a paladin, of sorts. One of the Triad. Zhentarim agent as well, which is a unique combination. I know you're on the run from something or someone, though not in Waterdeep. You tend to frequent Neverwinter most. Your enemies are either as nomadic as you are, or not here at present."   Another growl. "And how'd you come by that knowledge?"   "I've fulfilled your condition," Arkan replied and closed the issue. "If you work for me again, we can negotiate once more."   Nomad pondered that as they made their way to the pavilion. Refreshments and cakes had been arranged for them, a young half-elf girl with lavender eyes assessing him almost as keenly as Arkan did. Beside her was a drow woman dressed in finery of blazing reds and violet, and every bit as regal in appearance as he'd expect from Waterhavian nobility. The scene was odd to him, to be sure. He continued to observe the scene, his eyes meeting the familiar dwarf he'd come to know as Gerard and captain of the Valenier guard. They exchanged a nod, then he looked back to Arkan.   "Forgive my rudeness, but I'll beg your pardon as I adjourn to tea with my family," the nobleman stated.   "No offense taken," Nomad replied. "I drink alone anyway."   "Mores the pity," he heard Gerard utter between chuckles.   "Till we meet again, Nomad," Arkan bid him adieu, handing him another purse of coins in the process and quickly silencing anything Nomad would say by joining the others. "Next time you're in Waterdeep, I'll find you if I have need."   With that, the nobleman turned and joined his curious family. Nomad offered them a bow as they smiled his way, then saluted Gerard before he was escorted from the manor grounds by a trio of guards. All the while, all he could think about was if what had just happened over the last two weeks had been real or not. If it had, he began to sense he had a peculiar, if not useful ally in how he went about providing for Zora. Time would tell if Lord Valenier deemed his use worth the intrigue.

Right away we all know this is going to be a rough fight. Sturges all over, flying up to both floors and going after everyone, and that troll is covered in puss and rot, poisoning everything around it. We all get to it, Honorine striking first and getting the troll's attention along with Sadachbia with his biting magic. Illidrex takes a sturge down and gives me an opening to call on some old tricks. Regulus and Atka are swatting the buggers up top, and Angus is busy pushing people out of harm's way. Guess I shouldn't be surprised, he's always put others first. Sad to see a few folks get dropped, but the acid and poison these things are leaking melt through everything. The troll is about to go on a warpath, so I step in. And then an old enemy decides to get involved. Don't want to think much more about it beyond the power I'm given, but it burns through the troll well enough in one swing. It's out of the fight, then we're on to the remaining sturges which don't last long. It's over quick after that. Sadachbia is patching people up.   Durnan tells us the measures he's got in place to stop stuff like this from happening. It takes some doing--fixing the runes that keep beasts away. Minor repairs, but Sadachbia and Regulus get it done. Up top there' some investigating of the troll as well as harvesting some items. Turns out someone tried to implant a green dragon's poison bladder in this thing and it went horribly wrong, but it was also led to the Yawning Portal and turned loose. Something's going on in Skullport.   Regulus gets approached by a guy named Volo. We all talk with him in private and find out he's got a friend missing and he's willing to pay big to get him back. We need to find Floon, and last he was seen, he was getting involved with the wrong crowd. The Black Network. I know it's not something the Zhentarim like me doing, but I level with the others. They need to know what they're walking into. Black Network has been stirring up trouble with Xanathar's gang and making the Zhentarim take the fall for it. They need to know who's fighting on their side and who they need to be fight against. We send Volo on his way and tell him we'll find his friend. He pays us, then heads his way as I head mine and go to confront a potential problem. It's a tense introduction, but I meet another member of the Zhent, and he introduces me around. Doom Raiders...Need to work with them soon. And talk with Grek, if he'll give me the time.   We decide to get some rest after that. Next morning, Sadachbia catches a strange sight. Rats in the Yawning Portal too, which has Durnan in a tizzy because there shouldn't be any rats in here thanks to the wards. Sadachbia goes to investigate, turning into a rat himself and then gets jumped somewhere in the walls. Comes out a bit bloody and tells us there's someone or something trying to mess with the Yawning Portal. Durnan's irritated, but now he knows he's got enemies. Or at least, people spying on him. Here's hoping we can help him out.   Then it's off to gear up because we're about to head to the Dock Ward and the place isn't exactly welcoming to folks like us. Black Network sure to be there, so we need to be ready. Illidrex pulls some strings, makes some introductions for us after we sell some goods. Good Steel is where we end up. Meet an acquaintance of his who fought in the War. She helps get us outfitted first, then we get to the clothes shop with the name that's too long for me to remember. Illidrex and the others get what they need.   A gang war, murders in the trade district, this business at the Yawning Portal, and now we're off to find a high-profile missing person...I guess poking the Black Network is a good place to start.

We gathered at the Yawning Portal. Not my first choice, but it's not for me to decide. Turns out that's where everyone else was anyway, which already puts me on edge. When that newcomer, Jain, I believe, talked about his dream, then we realized we all had the same one, I started thinking there was a lot more to this. There are no coincidences.   Good to see everyone again, though. Didn't think I'd see Saddachbia and Regulus again, but here they are. Same with Angus. Glad to see the big guy still gentle and fierce as ever. Atka too. Kal, Illidrex, and I came off like old friends even if I didn't say much to them. Jain seems nice enough. Curious fellow. Honorine' s here too. Glad to have her guarding my back. And someone else I didn't expect; the imp himself. I was relieved my brother made it back from his travels. Good to be reunited with Orian.   Night starts off well enough. Got my orders. So do they, apparently, even if I'm not sure who they're answering too. Drinking like old friends. We go up for another round and someone starts a row with some Warforged. Been seeing more of them lately, but it doesn't matter since they're the innocent ones here. Angus, Regulus, and I move to intervene, but the whole place goes still when Regulus shakes the foundations with that roar of his. He escorts the troublemakers out, and we keep drinking. At the bar, Durin's in a good mood thanks to us. Honorine and I talk to him about that bottle of wine the Zhentarim want so bad. I tell him the truth, which surprises him given the company I keep, but he appreciates it. Says we'll talk more later.   Illidrex disappears for bit and goes to take care of some Gauntlet business. Needs to get someone released and finds the man who can get it done. It takes some doing, and damn, that one's got some talent he keeps secret till the time calls for it, but he gets the job done. Threats and a silver tongue, he makes them both work. Even gets a nice purse by the end of the night with some knife games.   Regulus and Angus are working for the Enclave, and they find their contact with a special seed that'll help the Sword Coast if it gets planted. The agent isn't too keen on helping someone else they have a history with, but those two show how gentle their souls can be when it comes to matters more important than swinging and axe or maul. They convince the agent, get the seed, then join us back at the table for talk of old times.   Orian gets away himself for a bit. Not sure how he pulled it off, but he manages to sneak upstairs to the restricted rooms and find his mark. He even picks the lock on the door with his sword. Never seen that done, but the Imp always surprises me. He gets the cache, jumps out the window, and comes right back inside as if nothing happened, and he and I are laughing about old times and celebrating his success. I know him and Atka are doing the Alliance proud.   Kal, Jain, and Saddachbia have their mission from the Harpers. Need to find a guy who knows how to navigate the magical defenses of Xanathar's hoard or something like that. They find their man, but he's guarded by lackeys. I'm not one for dabbling in the affairs of wizards, and I still can't make out what Saddachbia really is, but between the three of them, I'm not in any more of a hurry. They disarm a whole group of thugs without drawing a blade. Magical fire that doesn't burn, sapping spells, and some help from Illidrex from what I gather get the job done, and then Saddachbia is inside the guy's head with that power of his. They find out about a dwarf with a staff who knows more. It's not much to go on, but it's something. Some kind of internal job too, so Xanathar won't be happy.   Then there's Honorine and I. Durin takes me up on my offer to earn that bottle of wine. Tells me to gear up, grabs his sword, and we head out back. He's looking for a fight. In this form, I'm still nothing like the warrior I once was, even if old powers are reawakening. And that old fuck can move when he wants to. Comes at me like a pissed off bull during mating season, but Honorine is throwing insults from the shadows. Throws off his focus. I make it through one engagement. Then another. And again. Can't believe it, but after a bit, he even leaves me an opening. I come away bleeding, but with a win, and he's a man of his word. Gives me the bottle and we start swapping war stories. Even gives me tips on where I can find other Zhentarim, both good and bad. Good guy. I hope I can help get rid of the Black Network. Don't want to see anything else happen to him or his business.   We don't get long to breathe after that. A group of adventurers that went down the hole don't come back up. Instead, roars, screams, metal on metal. Battle is joined, and a massive troll is standing in front of all of us with some other beasts.   Time to get to work.