The sun was close to setting while the two lovers strolled through the city. Just stepping out of the Mithrest Inn after having had a lovely dinner together, Laska and Rose stepped through Waukeen's Promenade. The dinner was to celebrate the outcome of the war with the Evil Mint. Laska, Korgan and Minsc had assaulted the mint-plants with their bladed weapons, slicing their way through the first line of their plant invaders. Carving up the mint, they finally managed to clear a path to the stair-case, from which they managed to climb onto the balcony to oversee the backyard : an overgrown, mint-smelling jungle, its canopy almost risen to the balcony itself. From there, they managed to pour the weed-killer on top of Laska's would-be elven herb-garden, killing most of the mint. The rest of the day was spent trying to clean up the mint-weed, replacing the other plants and furniture, and replacing the artworks to exactly where they had been so that Viconia would hopefully not notice when she would return.

The only casualty : One elven herb-garden... and the victors were left with the fear that the mint might some day return in force. But, in any case, they had scored a major victory today.

"So," Laska said while the two lovers crossed the street, each having wrapped an arm around each other's waist, "do you think your friends and your guests minded us kissing so much?"

"Nah," Rose replied with a smile, "and even if they did, I own the place, so I make the rules. I think the big eyebrow-raiser of today was that you were constantly picking at the knots keeping my bodice in place."

"Well, there was that," Laska grinned.

"Hmmm," Rose closed her eyes and dreamed away. "What if we go home, soak in a hot bath, and go to bed early tonight?"

"Sounds like a plan," Laska smiled and pulled Rose a little closer. "We'll stoke up the fire in our bedroom, sit down on the bear rug, drink a little wine and get swept up in the moment?"

"Hmmm, nice," Rose whispered in return.

"HHHHHEEEEEERRRRRCCCCCCCUUUUUUULLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEE!!!!!!" was shouted across the promenade, quite shaking the two lovers out of their romantic mood. Immediately, Laska fished a dagger from her belt, getting ready to defend herself and Rose if necessary.

"What the hell was that?" Laska said, and regarded a small podium where two men were standing, talking to a crowd.

"The scourge of Cormyr, the enemy of evil, Slayer of a thousand foul orcs! Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to present," the announcer cheerfully, well, announced as he praised the man who hired him, "Hercule the Great!"

Hercule grinned broadly as he stepped forward, raised his arms and roared. Hercule was a huge, muscular man... A good-looking, handsome, studly man, according to himself. He was tall, broad-shouldered and acted as if he owned the city. On top of his head was a mop of curly black hair. A morning-shadow adorned his chin, augmented by a ridiculous moustache.

Hercule grinned. 'Quite a crowd of my loyal fans! Better put up a good show and leave them wanting for more,' "I, HERCULE! Greatest fighter in ALL OF TORIL, shall bedazzle you with my knowledge of martial arts! HIYAH!" he shouted, firing off a couple of practise-kicks and shadow-boxing in the air. Hercule was pleased at hearing the expected 'Ooh's and 'Aah's from the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" the announcer took over. "The great champion Hercule will fight any of you in the ring! If, by a slim chance, you manage to defeat him, you will win a fabulous price!"

Hercule grinned. He knew he could easily defeat any of these weak dregs that had gathered here. Plus, he could put up a very good show for those nice fans which had come to see him.

"Anyone?" the announced asked again. "Is nobody here brave enough to take on Hercule?"

"I'll bloody take it, mate!" an accented female voice rang up from the crowd.

Hercule could barely contain his laughter when he says the tips of the woman's ears. 'An elf?! How can a measly elf hope to defeat the great HERCULE!!' he thought, but then he noticed the body attached to the ears.

The woman standing in front of him was tall for an elf, but still, he was a head taller than even she. The elf had piercing dark eyes and wore her long dark hair in a single thick plait. The striking color of her greyish skin was offset by the appearance of several tattoos on her body. The only ones visible to him right now were her mirrored facial tattoos under her eyes, the blueish sword tattooed on her left arm, the swirling blue patterns all over her right wrist and hand, and, the tiny tattoo of a setting sun just above her navel. Like with all elven females, her body showed only the slightest of musculature, moreso when she flexed... but then there was that one tattoo that jumped into his eye, the one of the Rose just on her left breast, which revealed what the elf was wearing, or rather, what she was NOT wearing. The elf wore tight black leather pants, held up by a belt, and her small vest left VERY little imagination.

Hercule's next thoughts were comprised of the words 'Down, boy!' solely alone.

"I'll fight you," the elf grinned wickedly, removed a dagger from her belt and handed it to the announcer. "Name's Laska..."

"Are you sure, little lady?" Hercule gulped, not being able to tear his eyes off her. "Things are bound to get a little rough."

"I can handle myself," the elf grinned. "Let's fight..."

'Poor lady, she doesn't stand a chance. I'd better go easy on her. Who knows, maybe she'll be so impressed with my fighting skills, she'll go on a date with me and....' Hercule's train of thought was interrupted when he ended up being doubled over on the floor after Laska's fist had somehow rammed itself in his stomach.

'How... how did she move so fast!' Hercule thought as he felt his body protest against this treatment. But then he noticed the elf was getting ready to make her next more. "N-no, wait!" he yelled, trembling. "I... I wasn't ready! I'll... I'll TELL you went you can start fighting."

"Oh," the elf spoke with a hint of disappointment in her voice. "Okay, then," she said and returned to her end of the ring.

Hercule decided to opt for a different approach. Hoping to intimidate the elven lady, he put on a theatrical display of punches, kicks and other assorted moves. Thinking the elf would dodge this blow easily, he threw a punch, and, to his horror, ended up hitting the elf full against the cheek.

The elf, however, didn't seem to be the slightest bit impressed and resumed the same position she was in just a moment ago.

"Huh?" Hercule gulped. "Why aren't you fighting back?"

"You said you'd tell me when I could start fighting," Laska grinned.

"Then START FIGHTING!"

He didn't have to wait long. Immediately, a high-kick connected Laska's boot to Hercule's chin. Afterwards, she twirled around with lightning speed, grabbed Hercule by both shoulders and delivered a painful knee into his stomach. But she didn't stop there : Locking her hands together, she slammed them into the partially stunned Hercule's back, ramming him to the ground while receiving wild cheers from the audience.

"This... this is some kind of trick!" Hercule gasped for air.

"No trick, amateur," Laska grinned. "You're a dojo-fighter, nothing more. You won't survive in the real world with those moves."

That said, the tattooed elf strolled past the stunned announcer, retrieving her dagger and getting her prize, which consisted of a small scroll and walked towards Rose, while receiving an applause from the audience.

The lovers embraced and shared a brief kiss. "Sorry, love," Laska grinned. "When I heard that braggart, I couldn't resist."

"My hero," Rose mocked merrily and handed Laska a single flower she had picked on the side of the ring. Laska smiled as its sweet smell tickled her nose.

"Now," Laska grinned, "there was something about a bath, you mentioned?"

"Laska?" Rose called as she was reading the scroll. They had arrived home and headed straight to the bath chambers on the second floor. Rose, wearing only a bathrobe, listened to the whirling of the bath from the hall as its magic heated the water, but found herself very interested in the scroll they had won.

"Hmmmm?" sounded from inside the bath chambers.

"This thing is very old, but it looks like some sort of deed," the half-elf replied.

"Rooosssseeeee?" came a sultry voice from the bath chambers, followed by a piece of cloth which was thrown through the doorway. A piece of cloth Rose recognized as Laska's vest. Smiling, she put the scroll on the table and decided it could wait for now. She entered the bath chambers and locked the door behind her.

Viconia lay on her bed in the temple-hostel of Tymora. So far, her soul-searching was not going well. She was... disappointed and angry. Angry at the usurper goddess, but mostly, she was angry with herself for not recognizing the signs. Shar never made demands or admonished her when she went against her credo... and Viconia never thought much of it.

Rolling on her side, she watched Khittix chewing on a bone for a bit before burying herself under the covers. She had no idea what to do. She felt angry and betrayed, and had considered giving up the priesthood all together, but a number of questions kept running through her mind. 'What am I without faith and a goddess? What is left of my life without it?'

Instead, Viconia simply decided to go to sleep. She was tired... very tired.

Viconia found herself standing in a single room... or actually, it was a single floor, hovering over an endless void. In the middle of the large floor stood a spinning coin on its edge, displaying the shamrock-encrusted emblem of Tymora.

"Great," Viconia muttered, "a religious dream. How cliché can you get?"

Shortly afterwards, two forms took shape on either side of the coin. Both were mirror images of Viconia. One was a friendly smiling Viconia, who was wearing a long, white gown and had apparently dyed her white hair silver. The other, was a viciously smiling Viconia, who waswearing the robes of Lolth's priesthood, as well as a very valuable looking Tiara on her head, inlaid with Bejurals, the chosen representative gem-stones of House DeVir.

"Greetings," the dress-wearing Viconia said.

"Yes, greetings, fool," the Lolth-worshipping Viconia scoffed.

"I am Viconia DeVir," the dress-wearing Viconia smiled. "Arch-priestess of Eilistraee, goddess of song. I am right-hand to Quile Veladorn at the Skullport Promenade. I promote peace, kindness and individualism, and I am in charge of the Skullport orphanage."

"I am Viconia DeVir," the Lolth-worshipping Viconia grinned. "Arch-Priestess of Lolth, Queen of Spiders. I am Matron Mother of House DeVir, and First Matron of Menzoberranzan. I promote death, destruction and tyranny, as I rule over Menzoberranzan with an Iron Fist in the name of the Dark Mother."

"We are two sides of the same coin," the dress-wearing Viconia smiled.

"We are two examples of who you could have been," the Lolth-worshipping Viconia sneered.

"We are opposite extremes to which your life could have led," the dress-wearing Viconia still kept smiling.

"We are created by choices, luck and opportunities," the Lolth-worshipping Viconia still sneered.

"My brother and I fled Menzoberranzan," dress-wearing Viconia said. "Together, we helped each other survive the perils of the Underdark until we found the guiding light of Eilistraee. It took us to Skullport, where we could live out our lives in peace. I learned the great pleasure that could be gained from helping others, and have been serving Eilistraee ever since she first appeared to me."

"My path to glory started when I slew the human baby gracefully in front of the gathered priestesses," the Lolth-worshipping Viconia snarled. "I rid myself of all my imperfections and weaknesses. I bid my time and rose to the head of my House by slaying or subduing my sisters. Finally, I led the assault of house Baenre, in an alliance of four major houses. I became first matron of the city when I personally sliced out Matron Baenre's heart and fed it to the yochlol!"

"So," Viconia retorted with a grin. "What are you two morons doing here then?"

"They are here," another voice sounded, this time from the spinning coin. It was light and feminine, as well as friendly and comforting, "to show you how choices can affect your walk of life. How luck and opportunity, and the ability to take chances, can alter your life forever, be it for good or for ill."

"We are shaped by our choices..." the goddess spoke, now appearing in earnest. Her hair and clothes whipped in a non-existent wind. So far, her earnest smile was having little effect on the impatient Drow. "Do you not approve of my human appearance?" she smiled, and shifted into elven form. "Or would you prefer me to resemble you?" she said and formed herself to look like a Drow.

"No more charades," Viconia sighed.

"You've a nerve," Tymora winked as she shifted back into her human shape. "Making demands of a deity like that. Especially not when she appears before you, for your benefit."

"Do I even want to know?"

"Ouch," Tymora shook her head. "You're such a sourpuss. Come on, laugh a bit more. Enjoy life."

"There is nothing to laugh about!" Viconia snarled. "And I enjoy life well enough without your meddling!"

"Is that so?" Tymora snorted. "Is that why you tried to kill yourself in that glade?"

"That was a private matter," Viconia retorted. "You had no right to interfere!"

"Come on!" Tymora said. "You didn't really want to die. It was just a matter of pride to you. And you were all to eager to take up worship of Shar when I impersonated her."

"What did... and do you want with me," Viconia asked, almost feeling the sweat break out on her forehead. This would be the big question... and, in Viconia's mind, it better have a big answer.

"I appreciate boldness and bravery, young Drow," Tymora smiled. "You took a big risk coming to the surface and trying to build a life there. You attempted to master your own life and luck, and I very much respect that."

"Apparently, you did not respect me enough to appear to me as you were," Viconia sighed. "And that does not explain the general deception you pushed onto me."

"Sometimes, it is better to manipulate the odds to favor the outcome," Tymora smiled.

"Well, that's good to know," Viconia snorted. "But that still does not answer my question."

Tymora sighed. "You're not going to drop this, are you?" she smiled hopefully, but saw from Viconia's face that the Drow was not impressed. "Fine. But rationalism sucks all the fun out of faith, don't you agree?"

"Try me," Viconia shot back.

"Very well," Tymora said, "I knew that you wouldn't consent to worshipping a 'flighty' goddess such as me, so I impersonated Shar. That's it."

"That's it?" Viconia replied calmly, only belying her growing anger. "THAT'S IT?!"

"That's it," Tymora said. "Well, not really. I did put you on the path to finding Laska. We knew that she would help you further."

"We?" Viconia asked.

"Do you think Bhaal is the only one interested in the Bhaalspawn?" Tymora smiled. "Many gods are supporting specific Bhaalspawn, in the hopes of gaining allies, or keeping Bhaal in the Realms of the Shadows. Myself, Lliira, Sune, Meilikki and Sharess have our money bet on Laska, so to speak. Mark my words, she'll be the one to defeat the prophecy yet. Helm and Tyr might scoff at the notion, but we know a winner when we see one. The Seldarine has high hopes riding on her too."

"So..."

"'How do I fit in?' would be your next question, right?" Tymora said. "Well, we can't do anything directly, but we CAN help indirectly, so, we decided to send a champion her way. Coming across you was a lucky break. But it all worked out for the best. You kept her grounded and helped cement her party together."

"But the deception did not hold," Viconia shook her head. "Amateur..."

"Hey, you never knew, did you?" Tymora grinned, sensing that Viconia was probing her boundaries. "Beshaba was the only one who knew. Sorry about that burning at the stake-thing, by the way."

"Sorry is right," Viconia snorted. "I was almost a Drow-steak."

Tymora chuckled. "HAH! Drow-steak fried at the stake. That's funny..."

"No, it isn't!" Viconia snarled in anger.

"I... guess it's not," Tymora still snickered. "But your life lacked direction at the time, which is the way to the Maid of Misfortune. It's good to see that you're back on track. Unfortunately, I didn't think you'd actually MEET any Sharrans during your travels. Shar gets very iffy about 'false worshippers'. I tried to steer you away by causing little accidents, hoping you would decide to skip the service, but you were just too damn stubborn for your own good."

"Perhaps," Viconia sighed. "But one question remains. What happens now? I cannot direct my prayers to Shar anymore."

"Direct them to me, why don't you?"

Viconia chuckled and shook her head. "Why should I? You have lied to me from the start."

"But I never asked you for worship or made outrageous demands of you either," Tymora said. "Just go on as you always have. Be free, make your own decisions, rely on your friends and create your own fate through your actions."

"Am I to believe that you will offer me power without asking for something in return?" Viconia asked.

"I am willing to take a chance with you. Why would you not be willing to take a chance with me? Just... go on as you do now, and that will be worship enough for us. Live your life, embrace your goals, stand by your friends and shape your own fate."

And finally, Tymora noticed with satisfaction that cracks started to appear in the Drow's armor. Tymora's work was done and she waved her hands before the Drow could protest. At least, Viconia could not be allowed to remember what she had seen, but the seeds of doubt in her mind would be enough. She would wake with the feeling that her questions had been answered, but would not recall a thing. The rest, as they say, would be up to faith.

Tymora sighed contently. Her work was done. Now, she could think of new ways to give Helm a nasty wedgie.

Ilmiga Shadowpuppet, priestess of Tymora, was standing in front of the statue of her goddess, in her devout morning prayers. Suddenly, she became aware of a second person standing in the doorway leading into the temple.

"Come in, Viconia," Ilmiga asked.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Viconia stepped towards the statue, and stood there, merely gazing upon the statue.

"Tell me about Tymora," Viconia asked quietly.