Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

Valiant squinted his eyes against the mire-mist picking up in the Fields of The Dead, shrugging down at the dead bat. “It's dead now, It's growing late."
Koryeneer: “Well, we should find a safe place to make camp for the eve. I am very battered and need rest. Shall we head towards the gate?”
“Alright, let's travail over there."
“Wait. You see that?"
“Yep." A succubus, it's wings twinkling in the dark night sky.
Koryeneer waited a moment, “You feeling brave?"
“She's a looker alright. Why not engage it in civil conversation?"
The compatriots stepped towards the succubus, she blew a kiss and flew off.
Valiant: “No wait. Aww."
Koryeneer smirks, “Damn."
Valiant, clutches his chest, “My broken heart."
“Well then the only thing for that my friend is a good nights rest."
“I wonder if she dropped anything of note? To learn more of course."
Koryeneer, looks around the statue; Valiant looking downwards at the grass and starts leafing around. Nothing.
Valiant shouted, “Look! She appeared right next to a cross."
“Yeah."
“That is very curious." Valiant tries to read if any inscription are on the statue.
“What would a succubus want with us?"
“Are we truly that important?" Valiant answered the question with a question, and pulled up his cowl.
“More importantly what is a big brownish demon with horns?"
“I think it was drawn to this cross."
“We might have just been convenient fun......."
“Hmm. . . I wouldn't describe her as that. Maybe the thing you fought inside."
“Like I said it was huge and had horns and was a brownish yellow in color."
“Say. . ."
“Seemed to like the smell of rotting flesh."
“Can you cast a Detect Magic on this?" Narrowing his stare on the cross statue again.
“I would need rest but yes. Wait I have it prepared!"
Valiant motions to the cross. “Work your magic, dragonslayer."
“I did, nothing about it is special."
“How disappointing." Valiant takes off his right-hand, silver glove and starts gnawing at his bloody stump of a fingernail, anxiously.
“Indeed."
“You know.”I wasted half my life chasing these Demons."
“Wasted you say?"
“Well, yeah.”
“How so?"
“What good ever came out of it besides people trying to stop me and me killing them without a second thought."
“I can see your point."

Valiant points at the cross, a faint hate edging into his voice. “Righteousness is a lie. And I'm more at peace with myself now realizing it."
“I must say no real good can be done from the position of righteousness."
“I'm glad you see a part of the coinside I speak of." Valiant said smoothly.
“There are too many rules that ultimately cause failure. If we are to accomplish something there are times when rules should not apply. To a certain degree.Take the Dukes for example. They claim righteousness."
“So you say, but it's small steps that lead to selfdestruction. Should we really kill others just because they worship this God or that God?"
“But instead they enslave the people to their own brand of tyranny."
Valiant listens, earnestly.
“I only care if one actively seeks harm to goodly folk just trying to get by on the land."
“Take the Radiant Heart Order for example."
Koryeneer listens in turn now.
“They had a wicked mole within their ranks. For not just a series of months. But <I>years<I>."

Koryeneer smirks, “That explains a lot actually. How the orphans were taken out of the compound. How the Triel wars were lost."
“And yet we place our faith in these holy men to protect the innocent, when they can't even see what's crapping in their back-door."
You can't drag them kicking and screaming. . .
“How plague and famine now sits on the land up north," Koryeneer added, some sort of personal justice in his own voice, Valiant could hear the frustration behind it.
“It was all orchestrated through deception." Valiant grimaced.
“Aye."
“The paladins hold themselves to these rules and it blinds them from the truth."
“A foul deed for sure and well planned too."
“The trust company. I've been meaning to speak more about it with the others but we're all busy fighting the next menace. I think I want to join it."
“Trust?”
A small silence, Valiant had to choose his words , careful and pragmatic. “Cause I quit the mystic blades. That's the name, right?"
“Aye, Koryeneer grins, Teamwork. Unity. Respect. Sharing Trust. TRUST Mercenary company.At your service," He bowed.
“The paladin Cecilia, she is the daughter of the dread lord of the zhentarim and yet she is allowed to stay in the order and even still speaks with him."
“I've been hiding in the shadows alot lately."
“Is that why Cecilia still lives even after her capture?"
“Hearing things I wish I would of never heard. She is just like him."
Koryeneer looks perplexed, “She always seemed so dutiful too."
Valiant: “It was all a show, even her wounds were just a devotion to him and the Zhentarim. Power. Wealth. Domination. These are the values she lives by, and sir Arkaine hasn't realized it yet."
“Arkaine is not exactly the sharpest blade in the armory from what I have seen at times."
“I'm going to find out more. She met a few zhents outside soubar, Telia Navra among them, and there next plan is to spread disease towards the farmlands. I can't let this information get out yet, so please don't even tell trust because well. . . they might tell others accidentally."
Koryeneer smirks, “You mean spread rumor so fast it would ruin the chance to gather intel?"


“But does the trust company really let you in on all the information you need to fight evil, effectively? I think sometimes their pride outweighs their passion for justice-seeking."
“We fight until the fight is futile."
“And they choose meeting spots in the same places, which isn't so bright."
“Yes I am not doubting their integrity."
“We have failed before. Yet we continue to push foward."
“It seems like their all over the place in their ambitions, do they really intend on destroying the Conclave or the Dev'lins and how?"
“I am not sure we wish to destroy either. I am pretty sure we are content to let evil drow do as evil drow do.Unless they bring it up here. Then we have an issue."
“Heh. Me and you both learned hard from that. It still weighs on my soul, all those deaths on our shoulders."
“The raids seem to have stopped for now.....but that may because of the current issues the Conclave is havig with house Devlin. I assume once either Devlin or the Conclave win they will resume."
“I am still of the mind to find that damned artifact so that we hold the cards. Well House Devlin is currently attacking the Conclave from what I understand."
“The artifact is likely floating in the dark disc of shar's eternal void for all we know!"
“THey are uniting houses in rally towards their banner as well."
“Yes I heard as much about that upheaval."
“Why would Shar keep something of the Queens though?"
“I was jesting, badly."
“I am not so quick to the punchline I am afraid. Fatigue is getting the best of me at this juncture."
“So how's life besides political bullcrap?”
“Kill dragons here and there. Other than that I try to stay in populated areas these days.Information is best found where the people are.”
“Me too, you know I got attacked early yesterday.That mad dog Daggo."
“Daggo? Who is that?”
“We were both half-dead by the time the fighting was over, I hurled myself into the shadows and climbed over a crimson-stained hill. When I decided to look back for the deplorable dog he was nowhere in sight! Dwarves can run pretty fast, then again, an old man tottering on a cane can break into a frantic run if a crossbow is aimed at his windpipe.”

Both men headed towards the Gate finally, each with a heavy burden on their shoulder.

Daggo could of let it go, but he could not because of hate and I respected that, more than related; hate is what reminds us what matters, where friendship and love fails.

“Ah eve..."
“Greetings. . ." Valiant said.
He smiles back. “Seeking a dwarven I assume?"
“The blue-man I just hit if off with.," Valiant smirked.
“Hmm?"
Valiant Quirks a brow, “There is a dwarf here?"
“Name is Windwalker Rhoe.. and yes, I am indeed blue I suppose. Hit it off? I'm not recognizing you.. I apologize but I make friends easy here.
I wonder why, it's not like I’m wearing a disguise.
“This dwarf's name . .. was it by chance Daggo?"
“I rightfully do not know.. wears a mask.. or has a slight beard."
Valiant grins wider, “Was it a red mask?"
“Curious in fact.. dwarves usually do not shave.Yes, indeed it was.. was not wearing it in town though.. this Daggo you refer to.. and seek?"
“Even more curious if he was clean-shaven entirely. Yeah I need to have a little chat with him."
“Given your demenor, he will not like it much, am I correct?"
The dark man leaves it ambiguous, merely saying vacuously: “He should be close by then."
“Oh was not hinting at not aiding you."
I already wanted to kill this one. Just for being annoying. And I don't like being annoyed.
“I don't really care."
“You're traveling in the wrong direction."
“Lead on then, friend."
“He headed north.. you can attempt to find him there."
“I'm afraid. . . I can't let you live."
“Come again?"
“I'm afraid. . . I can't let you continue to breathe the cold air."
Rhoe sighed, “And why is this may I inquire?"
“I don't leave behind others."
Rhoe saw Valiant instantly apply a poison to my blade, deftly and practiced. Giants swarmed. A few acid arrows nicked Valiant in that bright, frosty dance. Windwalker Rhoe ascertained the chessboard and ran for it.

At least he's an opportunistic coward, I can respect that.

Hours Later
Valiant spies Daggo’s body, cast it over his shoudler, and headed towards the Temple of Auril.
It was a humorous scene indeed.
“Huh?!"
Valiant's sword pointing down and diagonally backwards, a mocking yawn escaping him.
He looks upwards at Daggo, amused.
Daggo looks up, eyes widening in confusion as he sees Valiant to be his apparent savior.
“Now let us continue our fight outside, you may ward if you choose so.”
How the?” Still disoriented. Is that how I came to be here?”
“You were toppled by some giants or something. You were with a blue-skinned man for some days in the foothills?"
“I was.." A grunt.
“He pointed me in your particular direction.” Grinning largely and annoyingly so.
“Uh ..huh” Daggo did not sound impressed
“So pick up you're blade and fight me if you have the grit."
“Else, I'll just wait outside when you least expect it."
“I'll meet you outside..” He barked.
“Goooooooddd.”

They both stood out in the sheer coldness, Temple of Auril mere feet behind, all alone.
Daggo looks over, sings a song. Clearly strengthened by it.
Valiant squints at him. “Is that all you need?”
Daggo draws his sword and levels it in Valiant’s direction.
“Very well," Valiant sidestepped and lashed out slashes hard to perceive.

Daggo struck with crippling strength, bringing Valiant back into the shadows time after time.

Both threw on magic in a flurry, evident enough it could be any man's game judging by their crimson dropping everywhere. One moment Valiant's blade whirring towards the eyes, the next blood rolling down the short, stout man's back.

But Daggo was ready, his sword slashes more like a hammer bursting open Valiant's lungs.The threat was real.Ten minutes later and they were still going at it. The upper-hand unpredictable as ever. Valiant hopped into a clot of growing darkness, applying poison to his blade.

Time to tip the board. The world is a vulture clawing at our boots the moment we enter this sad, carrion eat carrion realm. The innocent doves have fled to their castles, only natural to poison the surviving generation, those who come afterwards better step in a obedient line to avoid punishment. And that’s who survives the long haul; dead-flesh.

Upon skin-tearing impact, Daggo weakened considerably, felt the harsh poison fill his lungs and then it was all over.

Daggo coughed up a storm;Valiant promptly slammed his boot upon the dwarf’s fingers. Waited an edgy moment and chuckled at the soon to be dead dwarf and pulled him up on his feet to watch his now-spilling guts.

“You're leaking all over the place.Oh dear, oh dear."
“ ...bastard..you.. Sneaky.. git.." He spat some blood on Valiant's boots.
“DO you have anything of use to me?," Looking at the spit on his boots, eerily calm throughout.
“ ..depends.."
Valiant raises his blade and aims it at Daggo's throat.
“The Hells do you want?,” his eyes look over Valiant, hazy and full of hate.
“I could just torture you, for the fun of it.Let's see. . . The merchant Kahanak.What can you tell me about him, any juicy details."
“ I.. do not know that one. A terrible set of coughs. Desrah hates him.."
“Why does Desrah hate him?"
Valian wraps the gaping, smoky hole in daggo's belly, so the blood loss can be slowed for a time and utters, “Think quickly now."
“Blackmailed her.. or something or the sort. Never asked for the details.."
“How did she blackmail him?"
Daggo’s eyes have the look of despair, of a man who's been pushed to the end, “HE blackmailed her.. I think.” Coughing, his hands red with life-blood.
“Oh right, got a bit excited there. What do you know about the merchant Cheryl Mae Castillo?"
Daggo looks up, “Head of the Merchant Exchange. Not very well liked in some circles.."
“Why does she intend to undermine (. . .)-trade? With chultan coffee beans."
“Greed. Jealousy.. Who knows.."
“Know anything revealing about the Dev'lins, in particular about their blood-war with the conclave? I am considering gouging your eyes next."
Daggo gags, a fountain of blood spilling forth, another sweet cough. . ."What you want? I am done."
“You really are useless, Daggo. But loyal to whatever you truly serve, which I'm guessing is yourself."

Valiant raises his blade and chops off Daggo's head for the second time. He throws down a few loose poison vials on daggo's remains and walks off, sneering at the day before him. He coulda swore the hazel clouds formed all mellow, just for him.

It was beginning to become harder, darker, the words that at first were comical to the ear held a biting tinge. A tower. She wanted a godsdamn tower, and he possessed no potential means to gain one. Their time alone an obligation?

His own contentiously, harsh remarks had not helped one bit. Now, he was on the run, possibly from the Radiant Heart with his reporting career at stake. Creating a pseudo-name to write under for the time being, permanently?

He'd feaked out in the time away from the sorceress, it had evoked images of despair, loss, the thrill of Shar destroying him. Metaphorically, of course.
He despised Shar. For some complicated and mildly philosophical reason in the caves of his mind he had no intention of adequately grasping.

Valiant said determinedly, with the remaining vestiges at his disposal, "I will be positive, everything can be fixed."

A double-tipped piece of fire-licked steel cruelly whooshed across the air and slashed Sywn's throat wide. A dusky-skinned elf female was screaming, Rilae.

"Surrender now!"

A woman began to cough up a storm, coming to consciousness after being hilt-slammed hard. An icy rush of wind rose like a primordial behemoth and slapped through the winter-transfigured trees.

Valiant drowned out her incessant requests; crushing Rilae's nose, and sending her pitching backwards from the divinely-leveraged impact.

"I didn't want this. Damn it," Deirdre said.

Another dark-armored figure had been watching, his face shadowed, but Valiant could notice the agitation in his eye-pits as he stared before saying urgently, "You two... leave now."

"So, this escalated quickly!" Valiant exclaimed.

"Leave, now. If you make me say it again...." He draws his greatsword from under his cloak.

Valiant and the sorceress gave their acquiescence and retreated towards the north at expeditious speed. He could barely repress the risen excitement of satiated revenge as if he were some vampiric barbarian chugging blood from gem bedecked horns.
The wind was more in it's soar now. Still, it was really cold. Nothing burned like the cold.

Again, he was utterly pleased how her spells had made the battle so easy. Valiant was consoled she feared losing what they had as much as him, and he knew the crucial steps he'd suggested would contribute to their survival.



The roaring clap of aberrantly eager eager lightning flushed any trace of nature's peaceful coalescence and set this chilling zone of Faerun on the brink of destructive calamity. An echo of thunder surpassed the noises of the shaking sea mirroring a nighttime sky of chaotic admiration.

Then he saw her body bobbing on the stormruined horizon. He instinctively lurched towards her and flipped the body over to instantlly stare at cerrulean, lifeless eyes. Horror struck, he took a step back, dropping her into the icy black grave. He tried with all his might to weep or scream in anger, but his throat was lodged and dry.

And he was left with this intangible sensation of nothingness; nihilism. Someone or something had taken to cutting her, judging by the handiwork at least a pound of flesh.

She was sinking depper into the ocean's mysterious depths and he swam after, determined to fish her out. The seawater tasted horrible as it unwillingly lapped inside his mouth and he smelt an acrid stench the farther he traversed, but he wanted to be with her.

He passed every manner of aquatic life, somehow heard the persistent bombardment of ships warring, and the only thing maintaining his course was her plummeting, knifehacked corpse and the melodious, haunting promise heralded by an unseen feminine voice. He watched in amazement at the metamorphis happening to his body; gills replaced lungs, fins sprouted, and thousand devils... he had a merman's tail.

Valiant awoke to the pure, white blaze of a sun beaming bright like the dawn; in stark contrast to his prior environ, he could only see cows and their calming mooing followed. For the second consecutive night his always consciousless sleep state was defied by this dream, this nightmare.

And slowly, it was gaining palpable detail. He had no idea of why he'd awakened here either.

He was fast becoming accustomed to losing allies, power contacts, and friendly acquaintances over his romanceesque affinities. (the arrowmark FLAGRANTLY featured on his side...courtesie of that blockheaded elf certainly did not belie the belief, and the subsequent trip into the ether.)

No one could understand his mood swings, and the idea of having a "best friend" to share words with and not inevitably backstab was near proposterous. He awaited a candidate fitting enough, frankly.

"If you're excited by morally ambiguous characters in a defiantly dark fantasy spin of Faerun, and unsympathetically portrayed albeit well-defined heroes this is the gritty, grimdark fix for you."
Seattle Times

"Just the right amount of violent action and romance; compulsory, spellbinding reading."
New York Times

"Deliciously evil."
The Portland Oregonian

"So many literary elements, the writer takes his sweet time building a clever plot you only have the faintest insight on."
San Francisco Chronicles

He stood vigil til the adventurers passed into a sturdy slumber, admiring the morning mists dancing off the docile lake, wreathed in altruistic looking fingers of grey.

"No more jokes, I see. Yes, the style seems different..." A wearied, tan hooded man said, his face held the grit of the meanest cities. An early riser indeed.

For a moment Valiant felt oversshadowed by a previous life, one of knighthood and responsibility. Then he remembered his curse, and reflected with a stain of selfishness the deeds of valor he'd committed without credit. Squires always did the hardest work within the orders.

He would await the coming days and the job attributed to him. It felt like a pointless, bitter kind of existence now. Now, he had this bloke squabbling in his ear.

"Serious business, hmm?" He took off his tan hood and smoothed it out like a flag.

Valiant regarded him with no small amount of disinterest before turning his back, and saying, "Just like to catch this time of day, not as disappointing."

"I'll have some pork and mutton sizzling on the fire in no ti--"

Valiant whirled around, his greatsword ripped from his sword-belt; slashing through the defenseless man's mouth and spraying teeth out the recess of his flame caught throat. The man issued a jagged, distraught wail; coughed helplessly like arsenic swam in his gut like a ramming bull. (because it did.)

A burning spasm whipped his right side from boot to quavering jaw. Valiant deathgripped his greatsword's hilt for momentum, the INhumane crunch of bone and flesh dropping was the single precursor to his victim's head severing off slowly like a well-oiled, mechanized saw in action.

The others had leapt from their wilderness improvised beds with a start and stared distubred, their ears rose edgily.

Valiant spoke lightly with the traces of frenzy dissipating towards a detached coldness, "Someone better tend that wound, might not heal."

Valiant wiped sleep-gum from his actively scanning eyes, moustache bloodied. He approached a portly, grey-spectacled youth of barely seventeen or eighteen winters, and snatched the highcoin whisky bottle from clenched fingertips.

Valiant was met with a sting-sending left hook to the face. The after-tang of blood warming to a tender trickle down his neck resulted in a sincere smile. "Nice punch."

The youth gritted his teeth, as Valiant dug a fingernail into the cork, then flopped it out of the bottleneck in perfect execution remniscent of coin tossing.
He took an indulgent pull, the another, and again and again before handing it back dead-empty to the now-fixated, incredulous gaze of the young fellow.

The departing man in black's laughter, and amused demeanor fading to effervescent, shadowy particles on the morning light's horizon.




Nearly Three Months Ago

He hadn't expected more company, deep in his drinks now and looking quite disheveled.

She had curves and a shapely figure he found not-so-common, what with thin, bone sticking out girls being all the rage. She had black, raven hair, pale skin, all the features he'd been spellbound to preference-wise. Her orbs were blue like his, but markedly different, an imbetween of blue and teal.

Then she spoke.

"Not sure if this is a good idea, who are your friends here?"

"Tom, Tommy, sometimes Thomas, yeah."

"It's probably a bad idea. I am Valiant, well met."

Tom grinned.

"Hello Valiant, I am Deirdre," She smiled politely at him. He was trying to reach into his repertoire of witty words but he merely looked back, unable to form a smile let alone cleverness.

Laira looked up, "Hmm? Tommy and Valiant..." She pointed from one to the other.

"A lovely name." Valiant offered. Pitiful. Completely terrible. There's the door, Mr.Coy.

"Thank you."

Valiant opened his mouth, as if he were a gambler rolling away the last of his winnings, "We were just talking about random crazy stuff."

"Are rare one so it seems."

That was a compliment, so far so good.

"Why don't you sit? One chair free still, Laira said invitingly. Or we could take a walk... I'll stand at the gate and push forward just outside the citygate. Laira turning to Tom now, slapping him on the back, how does that sound?"

Tom whispers.

Laira declared, "You are always hungry!"

"Maybe both yeah." Tom drinks.

Deirdre takes the glass again and drinks from it. "Oh, I'm drinking your drink, Laira."

"I'm fine...She takes Tom's almost empty drink and sips from it, he won't notice."

Laira eyes Valiant, "Hey! Waving a hand in front of his face. You know staring is rude, right?"

Valiant produced an ungainly cough, squeaking out, "Huh." Oh sorry for staring, Tom."

You are blushing like you were just commanded to run eight leagues up and down a garngantuan palace after losing a fencing match against a battle know-nothing priest!

Laira smirks, "Tom? It was more to your left."

Deirdre said, "I want a glass of water. You seem to set up traps to fall into. Please, if you can fetch me a glass of water...yes...why is it hard to understand? Simple pure water. Thank you."

"This horsey is getting tired, I am going to head out," Valiant said.

"Sit one more! Pleeeease..." Laira showed puppy eyes.

"I hope I didn't disturb your company," Deirdre commented.

"Oh, you think because you walked up to the table you somehow impacted the course of the night?"

Tom said something, Valiant wasn't listening.

"And you Valiant, just drinking the days away too?" She inquired, appearing earnest to know more, looking into his eyes...

"I am an open and shut book. Laira knows all about me already, Tom just doesn't care, I have a job but meh."

"You have a job?" I saw you pretending to be a reporter the day at the Thayan Enclave. Is that what your job is about?"

"I'm a treasure hunter when I'm not drinking, yeah," Tom said over the rim of his glass.

"Yeah, I have done three interviews so far. The Thayans declined my presence because the Paper is new to town, and not a credible name yet."

"One with Tom, one with Laira, and no, you didn't itnerview yourself, did you?" She grinned.

Valiant mused for a vigilant moment, both adrenaline rising captivatingly and horribly nervous, she may be flirting?

He laughed at the joke, "I should interview them, but no, they not the ones."

"Anything you read about me is probably not true," Tom laughs.

"Alright folks, will see you soon enough," Valiant stands.

"What is the name of the newspaper you are writing for," Deirdre asked curiously.

"The Herald, we are located in the Palace District at the Shelf of Many Books. Office is in a little alclove."

"Oh, I have been there. Must of overlooked that one."

"You can report my fine skills there. He shakes Laira's chair, farewell!"

"Ouch my foot, remember!"


Valiant's blade plunged towards Arkaine wildly, blood stabbing his head, panting heavily.

Arkaine swung that traingular-flanged head of his massive mace, as he lurched around. His eyes scanned, but there was no trace of the betrayer. Arkaine quaffed a potion.

There was a sword flashing at him. He dodged the swing by the skin of his teeth, the bright point ringing against the singed ground. Valiant made a few more ill-coordinated lunges with the burning steel.

Arkaine slammed the mace against Valiant's aching toes. He felt a torturous pain, and lifted his shield just in time for a harsh grinding sound to echo across the field.

Valiant shadowstepped, then charged at the half-orc, directing the blade at his gut. Arkaine wasn't reactive enough; the sword spitted him through the chest, jolted him back in agony. Valiant catapulted after a sharp intake of breath, and collapsed atop Arkaine.

Arkaine's gauntleted fist whistled through the air and connected across valiant's face, spattering blood droplets everywhere and offered an equally, devastating punch. Valiant yelped in pain at the consecutive stinging sensation, and mashed Arkaine's face into a treacherously edged rock.

Valiant lurched to his feet, mind grappling unorganized-like at the event, blood pooled from holes in his torn, blackened mithral right as he heard the imposing figure rising, clinking a song of justice and righteous doom.

Arkaine retrieved his war-mace; Valiant clutched his greatsword.

"Receive His Judgement!" Arkaine bellowed.

Valiant brought his sword zipping towards Arkaine's shoulder; Arkaine parried it with renewed vigor, the paladin took his opportunity and buried the mace into Valiant's kneecaps. Gore and blood flew all around, from the bleeding fresh bruise on Valiant's head, from the crushed bone jutting macabrely out of Valiant's elbow, from the torn-open wounds on the dark man's shoulders. Then he stopped moving, mouth open, eyes horribly set on the clouds above.

Arkaine drank his last third or fourth healing potion, staggering as he turned to hear Teo say, "It is finished"

"Hrng... Justice wrought at the end of the chase."

A gloved-hand placed itself on Valiant, making a complex gesture before the two vanished instantly.

Teo shakes his head. Another man said with a pair of axes, "I vill never understand such things."

Valiant stalked through the city, feeling much like a crawling ant who should be crushed because well... that’s just common procedure. His bootfalls carried anything but that of the manful.
May I interest you in some scrolls, sir?”
My name is Valiant, we have spoken on many occasions, you pompous (hero)..
“Yeah, some of the haste scrolls shall suffice.”
Then a couple came in, the dark-haired man’s mouth was twisted into a conquering sneer, the lady beside him had eyes full of wonderment and adoration over sheerly new experiences.
“I found this exquisite ring for you, it’s truly one of a kind.”
Somehow, her face brightened even more to one of overwhelming happiness, and laughed. “I hope it wasn’t too demanding to get.”
That’s the thing though, when you reach those milestones of success it is all so anti-climatic and unsatisfying. There is no fun following it.

Valiant offered a meek, heavy smile and stepped out into the coldest day of his life, and the beer garden was overstuffed with lightly-speaking partygoers. He headed for the confines of his inn room to stare down a bottle of fire whisky.

"I am glad you are with me here."
"Oh shutup."Valiant chuckles.
She smiles, "you are right."
"I am always right."
"We have far more pressing matters to attend to...quite the wrong direction we could try the pit fiend in the coming days."
"Your sword...was it worth the trouble?"
"Considering a whole town of innocent people died, I'd have to say "yes"
Deirdre smirks, "the hags?"
"Yes. let's go to the hags."
"rrrright...rawr."


A magnificent, beautiful day before the man as he strolled through the city's gleaming sunlight confidently. She never left his side, as if to walk away would bring about an unfortunate coincidence.
"I could eat a whole boar myself."
Valiant ordered, "I'll have two boar heads. A side of coleslaw... uh... four hotdogs, seven ice cream cones, some lobsters.A few crab cakes..."
"Yes, sounds like a good start."
"And we'll drink milk."
"Milk? Curious combination, but if you say so."A grin.
"I almost have enough to buy that feint belt, long as I don't get tempted by an insatiable need to buy scrolls."
"Oh, I'll sell it to you. How much do you have?"
"Great. 20,000."
"Umm.. that is a loss of 12 bags. We need to get you richer."
"I still have items at the auction to sell.Hey, I once had 400,000." He laughed.
"Yeah. well, not at all that rich but last week I had 200 bags. Now I am down to 15."
"We need to get you enrolled in a impulsive anonymous buyer class".
"And yes, items that kill me." She laughs, those huge cerulean eyes looking at him adoringly.
Valiant chuckled. "The teeth dress of agony.Oh, the food is here!"
"About time!"
Valiant looks at trays and trays of food marching in, hungrily.
She picks up a fork and knife, "ready, set...bon appetite!"
Valiant does the same and digs in indulgently, "It is strange going from lobster to drinking milk."
"You are a man of strange tastes, and I know where your pale white taint comes from now."
"I am going to be a lazy piece of shit after this delight."
"Which is quite alright. I guess we ve done a lot today."
"It is inexcuseable, we must continue the madness of moving from one location to another!
"Alright, lets do it."
"I know i said I would not drink. but I am going to have an ale.
"This will ruin the plan, I bet."
"Because it's mandatory after a hard day's work. It's like showing balduran pride."


Valiant's eyes opened like a gutter pouring out blood... his sleep patterns had been abyssmally horrrible. A sudden flood of dread rushed over him as he registered the present, and that powerfully persuasive sense he could never see the past again.

Why?

"A moment."
The door-knocking persisted agonizingly loud in his still sleep-fogged mind, and his head started to pound-- right behind his ear, just below the knot of a war-hammer that had never healed.
"I said give me a bloody moment!" Valiant growled the words out, clenching his teeth tight.

Valiant applied face putty, running his fingers over his features to distort them. In practiced rapidity, he appeared to be in his mid-forties, with a painstakingly well-styled, whitehaired ponytail and goatee. He began to fumble with the door, strugglingly. Come on evil, sentient door. Don't torture me.

He unlatched the door after several mistrials, and opened the door carefully.

"You still need a teleport to Nashkel, Dave?"
"I do, allow me to freshen up, and I'll be out soon enough." He managed a gormless smile.
"Do hurry, you are running late for the meeting."
Oh joy, a fancy conference meeting with a bunch of amnian journalists who will practically be cooing at the Bailiff's words, and worshipping the ground he spreads lies about. He felt a hankering to stab the man's eyes out, so he could understand just a morsel of the pain he experienced, but the fury quickly passed with the flicker of his eye-pits. "Mmm." He said, shutting the door, and hurried to get ready.

What makes me do this? Why?

Nearly two months ago...

Admit one thing about Valiant; Dave Counterpunch, he's consumed by a bitter fury. Too many things had been compressed, and were bubbling out. The emptiness of the wind's raking, the boulders whistling at him in crushing speed near demanding to give up to the downward spiral of depression.

There was a mean bonfire raging in the distance, but he was distracted by the calamities of battle, and at the same time he was tired. Like a heavy weight was fraying his resolve, like the pointless bibble-babble of adventurers around trading empty words in a frozen landscape of grit.

Sure there was more here, but he could not see past his own turmoil.

Bad friends who didn't deserve the title of friend, the title of disappointment fit all too well.

"Nice sword. How about that weather?" Someone inquired, like the sword was the only good thing going for him, it was, he reckoned it sure wasn't the latter.

Valiant stared despairingly over at them. They all smirked, rushing towards the next giant.

It is impossible-feeling to accept, when everything seems to be going right, then suddenly snatched away from you, and the sunlight revealing every rugged edge, and line, and wrinkling rippling along his brow. The migraine needling into his skull; the very precursors to the inevitable, unenviable moment.

And that moment was now.

"Come over here, we're preparing to ward." Someone barked.

A silence, like a stretched-out wound festering among the graveyard.

"You are missing the clerical merits of a recitation spell, it'll get your blood pumping hard."

Valiant stared at him, in a prolonged blank savagery of confusion.

"You suddenly become touched in the head? It's not like I'm speaking through the heart of a storm."

That someone approached Valiant, a defiant little spring in his step.

Valiant couldn't hear a word, all he felt was the whirring sonic sound in his head, the bloodlust that had started to turn tedious, the frustration, and the fury imposing itself, manifesting and back-lashing through his body like a displaced rat straining to escape a cage.

"Snap out of it!" Someone's hand tauntingly slapped him across the eyes.

Valiant clenched his ungauntleted fist, dropped his fiery sword in the snowy mud, blood pooling from his brow faintly, his mind reignited with less pain now, more indignation. "Don't do that."

"I think it'll help, you need to go back to the mud. Fact is, I know it will." A mocking roar. "this is for you!"

Valiant rolled his blue-streaked eyes as someone's left-hand crashed into his nose and sent him reeling and scrambling in the cold mud.
"You tw@t!" He growled like an animal, delivering a hook, smooth as butter, as a woman's hip, into someone's teeth. The teeth fell out like he'd ripped pieces out of a letter.

Someone chuckled, and regarded him challengingly.

A giant barreled into someone, the chaotic beast slashed pitilessly into the man's side, uncorking a generous gash; spilling out his kidneys, crimson dribbling into the endless snowy muck, hefted the man off his legs and chunking him with mighty precision into a fateful spear-tip protruding out of the hill, his body convulsed again and again.

Valiant sword hacked the beast's guts out in a disgusting wave, then submerged his blade half way into the giant's roaring maw. Instant silence. Another giant rammed into him full tilt, and attempted to push him into the same spear-tip. Valiant snapped the giant's wrist, and resoundingly slugged the giant with his sword-butt. It wasn't enough, the adventurers were long-dead (he was so angry he didn't even register their wails for aid), and his blade was hopelessly flying and flashing across the frozenland.

Valiant screamed, as the spear tip grew within a hair-width of proximity, he bit deep into the giant's perforated nose; it was surprisingly the equivalent experience of chewing through rubber. He was getting battered by a blitz of clubs to the back now, but he ignored the pain. He spit up the huge piece of giant-flesh and gouged the giant's lids out.

Valiant wormed his teeth around the giant's shaking throat, pressed down deep; biting enough flesh to be fatal, and whirled around at the oncoming clubs.

Pow. Slam. Bite.

His lips were caked in blood. He heard horror everywhere, but he persisted. Mashing that thick giant's forehead into the grimy, frost-bearing rock, and into the hard and unforgiving soil. Monotony. He was being monotonous.

The truth was: he was not here anymore, he was thinking about the people whom had wronged him, and only one name seemed to stick in a tortured mind that could no longer keep it all inside... He hadn't realized he'd been saying the name the whole time he fought, growling and grimacing like a mad man.

HalfOrken...

...it was not logical one bit to assume this one person could be the arbiter of his misfortune, and the lack of luster in his ambitions, nor for the loss of the only person he loved.

There was gore, and pieces of giant flesh clung to his darkened, Mithras breastplate, he slowly brushed an ear hanging stretched-out and gnarled from his hood. He spit a giant's thumb from his mouth.

HalfOrken...

To Valiant's mild amazement someone wasn't dead, the dark-bearded man gasped at him, rather shocked. "Fury. You got it all over you! We should get these people to a temple."

Valiant moved forwards, leaving the bleeding out man behind, calling over his shoulder, and ignoring the yelling pleases for help, "HalfOrken."

Valiant stood outside the Chapterhouse, eating from a large box of sweet-tasting figs. Having just finished several letters that'd be gathered and sent in the morning.

(Another stage; readying him for what comes later.)

I'll have a fire lit up.

He was flexing his fingers; the gauntlets still off. He made a show of wiping off his good-sized hands, and tossed the fig-box, in affront, some feets towards the paladin indoctrination center.

(A black gem pitiless against a faraway purple disc could be seen in the night sky.)

I'll ruin your life, pig.

Insights may be explored on black, perfect nights. Atop that balcony; they're so penetratingly vivid. (His vision is clear now; you can't trust anyone. He suspected he hated everyone.)

If you comprehend the extent of your goal-setting; without second-guessing for a second, factoring the numbers, and not expecting too much help...

(Commandeering help is a duty in itself.)

You can calculate the future. A knight sets a silver-speckled visor on her head. (The sound is like the squealing after a yawning wound bursts open again. It hurts.)

This war is beautiful, an appetizer before the abyssal sin-eaters, for morale. This ambition has been surging in his blood for a time, he makes other people tired from long nights of dedication. Sleep was for the weak anyways.

(He needs sleep less and less; the Order was a battered seam ripping through the centre of the treaty room. His project is creepy, when he does it perfect. When the anecdotes are set up.)

Valiant visualizes the story, all his brainstorming (Along with some help), happening as Knights gawped; overlooking the unable-to-cope phenomenon.

(It's not how life is, it's a cheat, but without it he could not figure out how people work.)

Valiant knew the disgrace left the Chapterhouse rarely now; his nerves were high-strung; snapping at everyone bitterly over trivialities. (It had manifested, as expected.)

A vision filled his eyes: The disgraceful thing only exiting the Chapterhouse with an honorable bodyguard, his entire holy cabinet, and a drove of personal attendants under the pretext an army of Doombringers would cut him down instantly.

He wished he had a chair doing this; researching the migratory patterns of Knights. He enjoyed the pursuit of work. (It was manageable to be lonely, sort of. Romance was dangerous.)

We're all eating from the sinful vine choking the righteous's breath irrecoverably. They just stand motionless; stripped of power.

In the distance, pounding up mud, coming closer: vampires.

Of course, it is designed to the pretext of serving red. Valiant's eyes are just taking on that cold, hard look now ( A subliminal message of punishment.)...

He flipped through a catalogue book (it was on forms of different malevolent demons), then resumed his vigil thinking: the docks, fistful of monies, chaos...

(When the dire wolf sinks it's teeth into flesh; it holds on. That's what its role is.)

Dave is looking down upon the proceedings. Them looks down at his hands, as if noticing them for the first time.

Ameris: "Perhaps that will change. It should be attempted."
Corvus glances at Dave, then down the ring, "... Ye doing a monster fight down there."

Dave pulled a face, still looking down. "...you should get up from there, knight!"

(His tone is light, but no one laughs.)

Eleanor looks to Arkaine. "Upon healing even wounded souls will find peace. Pray, search within yourself sir. It is there."

Dave thought in his mind, Bane never forgives. Then replied to Corvus, "just admiring the fights."

"Ah makes sense... Where dat one goes mindless violence seems not far off."

Ameris: "Let the attempt be made. Perhaps the penitence will allow for souls to be reached."

"Which one?" Dave inquired passively.

" Da one whom ye' should have exiled the moment 'e came... Dis land 'ave an unusual acceptance of races with bad blood."

Ameris: "Thankyou, Grandmaster."

Dave remarked, "I was seeking a bit of off-duty time, but thank you for the information, and no need to show racisms." Dave pulls out a silver-handled penknife, presses some buttons, click. Click. Click. Then writes what was said down.

Ameris: "Tegus should submit to he concept of atonement. Let the task be set by the Head Watchknight."

Eleanor: " Personal dislikes are besides the point..."

Dave's eyes are scanning the people below, his vigilance is a careful one.

Corvus eyes Dave somewhat, "Ye' one of da keepers of tales from da castle of the shore?"

Dave looks back with a warm grin. "I am a reporter for The Herald."

"Ah, ere' we are. Was wondering when he' let lose the beats in dis engagement. Man against wild... Much better trail of manhood den dis...debate..."

"It's quite the austere-looking place, marauding wolves aside."

"Ye mean to say it's no part of the combat?"

"Indeed it's quite unexpected."

(Humans are weak; because when faced with a monster, a normal human senses danger and retreats.)

"At times, I'd wish to see 'ow people here would do in the jungles of Chult... It be rather passive 'ere when nature can sneak up on Ye and yer surprised over the fact it 'appended."

"That's right, I'm sure it's like the mind is going into fight or flight mode; trying to process a picture of irregularly shaped patterns, wondering how to put the pieces back together..."

"according' to big lad ere... With 'es hammer...well...mists' Dave... Ye center of civilization be a strange one. Ave' Ye fogotten from da wilds Ye' ancestors came, when fang, tooth, nail, and claw was da tools of trade, and survival was band on hunter's guile and prey's wit...?"

"Your assessments are insightful nonetheless. Excuse me."

Dave is moving towards the commotion below, the groups are dispersing, and re-organizing. Arkaine is leaving, suddenly. Dave thought about what Vali had told him, how everyone was afraid of him.

(The pain is worse than the fight. Grief. Adapt or suffer.)

Ameris' head turns slowly to Valiant.

Dave beams a bit, and offers his hand out, perhaps to be shaken.

Tellia seems to have been saying something else, then just watches Tegeus leave.

"Dave." (There is no conversational levity, it was formal.)

Ameris would take the hand awkwardly, some reluctance.

"Fun little social outing of fists and priceless bets?" Dave inquired. It doesn't matter how hard you try to defend Arkaine like daddy; I'll find a way to learn more. I always do.

(A wolf knows a wolf. It's a futile habit; the wolf can run faster than any oncoming caravan can save you.)

"I am afraid... I'm a little busy perhaps we can discuss it later."

...like how you sent my letter? All of you harper agents are liars.

(When the dire wolf sinks it's teeth into flesh; it holds on. Thats what it's role is.)

Valiant stood in the ruined, derelict tower for the third day, and rocked the memories slowly in his chaotic mind. Eyeing the rutted bell afar with steely precision; the pretensions of what he had planned ahead excited him as much as he questioned their possibilities. A fatuous apprasing expression admixtured with a simmering of calculating some conclusive equation... he angles his head at specks symbolizing people below. Looking sadly, looking furiously.

Life sure could be a poisonous tosser bastard... need I say with pretensions of dwelling from Luksan?

He knew he had been shudderingly close this time to success... it hadn’t just been the half painful pinpricks a chief hillman suffers when realizing his fortunes have been dwindling from years of hard use of luck.

Well, what do you got lone Inquisitor against the Radiant Heart Order and those imperialistically ambitious Harper Agents. Besides knowing how to set fire to something? Blimey, you have been set on fire pretty bad before, I reckon.... it’s what has made you so good at it. Why they had opted to undercut you. That is respect of an enemy.

He looks down at the scurrying civilization,with an unambigious confused look.

Sure, there are beautiful skinny and curvaceous alike, blue-eyed... brown-eyed.. orange-eyed... whatever-eyed women of demure and domineering personalities all swooning after to you. You pursuing them furiously like a fist slamming against a wall. But why do you do it, and why can’t you pick one? You took a break from the ambition? The ever-shrivelling dream? The ambition has changed over time, a natural inevitability indeed... Probably because they are unreliable. You slept with a powerful man’s plaything, remember?

Valiant is looking at the waves flapping and bobbing and thrashing violently below with a hint of peace... the chords of edginess resume shortly enough. Crash through his features like a storm... an unexplainable torment dimming his eyelids.

That may be so... but it’s only because I miss her so damn much. No matter how big the distraction, the womanizing, or how malevolent and monstrous the ambition you still wish she was present. You are in a constant pain. Why do you continue, when only the searing pain remains?

Valiant rubbed thoughtfully at his lips, an equably looking feature on him. Then, face all wild from the oncoming thought.

Because I’ve got an idea. Suppose I better frame the plan then. The trying part, you know. More of that. Lathering the ulcer with oil, clawing the blister, ripping out slews of the scab. Just not rushing into anything. Perfection...

It amazes me still how... Harper Agents such as Ameris who is covertly running The Herald now.. sees it as a goodly, righteous act requiring the utmost intestinal fortitude to stop me from writing a searing article on the faults of a Grandmaster who is crippling the Radiant Heart. The newspaper was the one thing in my life.. the one fibre of good conscience in my soul, the one thing I was successful at. Was I vindictive about it? Absolutely. But it was the only way to get it done. I don't know how Ameris Santraegar sleeps soundly at night. It's disgusting and I truly feel like he has his duties disorganized, and his decision was more out of being a pompous jerk than any sustainability of real justice. I don't even get paid enough to do this crap...