Adrian: Baldur's Gate

The woman who was currently calling herself Lyssan--but who in fact had a somewhat different true name--left behind the temple of Bhaal beneath the city of Baldur's Gate where Sarevok had made his base. The fool was shaping up nicely for her plans....but now there were complications.

Someone was watching the Bhaalspawn. Not just Sarevok, but the other two that were in the city as well. She could sense this. She would brook no interference in her plans.

As soon as she was out of sight of Sarevok's lackeys, she took a step into a reality that none save herself could see. Oh, there were beings that could percieve where she now travelled, but none were anywhere near. She vanished from the undercity of Baldur's Gate, her departure witnessed only by a few unknowning and uncaring undead.

The undead might recognize where she ended up though; a place of eternal night, and the unholy energies that gave them the spark of their undeath. The Negative Material Plane. Even "Lyssan" was uncomfortable here, but planewalking was something she was good at, and this was merely an intermediary step.

She slipped again through the fabric of reality and found herself in one of the lower layers of the Abyss. It was not much different from the plane she had just left; it was also very dark. But it was also very hot, and there was screaming; loud, continuous, keening wails. Dimly, she sensed a Demon Prince being aware of a wanderer in his realm. Quickly she stepped again, and was gone...

Sigil. Where many planewalkers meet. She brushed past an annoying blue-haired teifling. That worthy smiled at her and began to attempt some poetry having to do with a raven. She glared at him, and he recoiled. She had no time for such distractions. She was almost there. One more step....

Back on the Prime Material Plane. In Amn. In a dark chamber. With the two observers she had noted in Sarevok's chamber, eyeing the Bhaalspawn from afar.

There were two, and they had once been elves. One was now a vampire; the other had a more unpleasant existence. He wore a mask; she bared her fangs at Lyssan. But both were clearly afraid.

"You are no challenge to me. But you may be useful. So speak your names and purposes, and I may yet spare you."

The two exhanged a glance, but both could sense her power. The masked male sighed. "I am called Irenicus. This is Bhodi. And as you can no doubt tell, we were once elves but no longer. Our interest in the Bhaalspawns has to do with this."

"Tell me," said Lyssan. It was not a request.

Irenicus did, with occasional comments from Bhodi. Lyssan thought, long and hard, then nodded.

"You may prove useful to me against the Bhaalspawn when the time comes. For now, no further observation of the three that are currently in Baldur's Gate. Soon, as you know, they will come to blows. When they do, I will make arrangements for the survivors to be delivered to you. And if only one of the three survives--" here Lyssan smirked, "--then I have alternative sources to draw upon."

"And what do you ask in return?" asked Bhodi.

"Your plans for the spawns serves my own ends. It would amuse me to see their essences contained in such a way. But I warn you, you will act according to my plans and my directives. Challenge me and you will be destroyed."

There was a pause.

"When can we observe them again?" asked Irenicus.

"I am keeping an eye on the conflict for my own reasons. I'll let you know."

Lyssan stepped through the fabric of the Realms and was gone.

The two stared at eachother.

"I will not kneel to her," hissed Bhodi.

"Nor I," agreed Irenicus. "But for now it would be prudent to pretend to do so. Once we have what we need, then we will have the power to challenge her. But for now, play along."

Silence fell as the two brooded in the darkness.

Early the next morning, a messenger from the Iron Throne base was leaving the mercenary village. An invisible Edwin and Besheridan followed them through the tall grass, towards the foothills.

It was not a long trek, but the path wound through the foothills much and more than once Edwin lagged behind the Zhentarim soldier. There could be no communication between them, lest the game be given away. The Red Wizard ground his teeth in frustration.

Eventually, though, a wheezing, sore-legged Edwin limped up to the end of the path and saw, as Besheridan did, the Iron Throne base.

It was not a good thing to see. Over forty Throne warriors were camped here. Not simple bandits with a few powerful leaders, this was a small army. A force to be reckoned with, well trained and organized.

"Are you here, wizard?" Besheridan whispered, eventaully.

"Yes, for about twenty minutes now."

"It does not look good."

"No, it does not. But Adrian will have time to plan how best to deal with it."

"Yes, I beleive your'e right. But first we have to get away from here."

The two stumbled away from the camp, back towards Adrian and the others in the village.