Rise of the Doomplague

Waterdeep, the city splendor, city of a million souls, a million bright lights. No other city in the Realms of Faerun could match its majesty, and its wonder. No city human city; the cities of the elves were another subject. Water-deep with its rumbling taverns, and boisterous bazaar's, claimed host to many a traveler, and merchant. T-he city with its beautiful structures, and wide streets, beckoned to the heart of those who sought adventure and the arcane. Dabblers of the magical arts could also be found here in the pearl of the trackless sea.

Waterdeep with all its splendor, also shared a darker secrete. Under its streets marched evil and vile things often at night and preyed on the unexpected traveler. These things came from deep below the reaches of the city, underneath. Those who walked the tunnels under Waterdeep and under the mount, often found things not to their liking, usually at the cost of their very lives. Often it was told to new adventures entering the city, that dark elves lurked below, scurrying upon the blackest nights.

One figure -sloshed underneath the grime filled sewers, its cloak gathering up the refuse of others. The figure looked from side to side, and quickly rushed forward. Brandishing its torch, it could see the slime covered cobble wall, and dripping dark ichor that sloshed down the sides in a sickening plop. The figure's hand gathered some of gray moss and twisted it in his fine, black gloves. The moss was slimy, and the figure could feel the cold wetness even through the soft fabric. The shape quickly stuffed the moss into his small sack and hurried down the dark passage into a inter-connecting tunnel. Moving the figure hurried down a sub-corridor, and came upon a man standing with his arms folded. The shape moved swiftly and kneeled before the large man of six feet, with soul searching eyes.

"I have found it massster." The voice slithered, from the figure's mouth.

The man walked over, and grinned. It was not a smile of joy, it was a smile of vengeance.

"You have done well, Thiv. Are you sure this is the root I sent you for?" The man's voice was deep and rumbled like a horn.

"Yesss massster, thisss be the Doom-ssspawn, the root Elgazar sssent uss to findsss." Thiv held up the torch, and a slight ray of light cascaded down upon his features. Thiv was not quite human. Leathery like scales covered his face, and slit like eyes moved about in the waning light. Thiv was not quite lizard either, for he had no snout, compared to others lizard like creatures. His nose was more piggish in effect, and gave him a off-worldly look. The man looked at the pitful creature and turned on his heel.

"Come, Thiv we have much to do tonight! Cyric's will must be done." As will mine, the man known as Narvendal thought. The metal spurs of his boots shrieked down the sewers.

* * *

The Screams of anguish were many. The disease struck quickly the next day, flying through the city as if by the wraith of some evil god. First to be struck down were the clerics of various temples throughout Waterdeep proper. Then the plague, dark in its working, widened from Dock Ward were the poor lived to the Castle Ward, where the most influential people resided.

As Selune's moon raised to its zenith, the cries of the sick and the dying could be heard down the Sword Coast. Narvendal smiled with glee, and adjusted his red traveling cloak about his shoulders. The wind had picked up and a shiver ran down his neck, as his long black hair whirled about. This would not have happened if those damned clerics of Torm had just accepted him, he thought; he clenched the sword at his side. He had worked hard for five years to reach the statues of Paladin Aspirant, and that had been taken away from him, by a boy - a boy no less. He was worthier than the whelp that had caused his downfall, and yet that very person now stood were he should have been, many years ago.

The glory and the fame of Torm! Oh he would have righted the wrongs that plagued the lands, and he would have been famous and wealthy beyond his very dreams. Those fantasies had been dashed. He had turned his back on the church and on his god Torm, and all humanity.

Narvendal's smirk twisted into a sickly grimace, and his hand felt the in-side the cold dark mail-. Fingers probed away at what had been his heart, and found nothing there, nothing but a large hole. When he had given Cyric his pledge to follow the dark god, he had given his body and soul to the dark literally. Life was good for the Anti-paladin, or the lack of life for that matter. The screams and wails of the night were joined with the cold, hard laugh of one possessed.

* * *

Alias Windswept, quickly ran down the halls of the church of Torm, gathering two buckets of water in each hand. Slight water splashed against the walls as he rounded the corridor almost smashing into a fellow brother Torm. The cleric looked at the young lad and gave the youth a haggard smile.

"You must be careful boy we don't want you to spill any." He said. Alias smiled, and quickly gathered himself.

"Sorry, brother Donvan, I was in a rush to get some of the water to the oth-ers." He said scratching his head, a habit he had when nervous. Donvan smiled, the large burly man of many winters took one of the buckets, his hand easily lifting it. Donvan was tall. He towered about six feet six in height, and even through his woolen priest robes, his honned body was evident. When Alias had been brought here, he had taken to the young man, and became his tutor in the the temple.

"Have you ever heard of the saying haste makes waste lad?" Donvan, began walking toward the healing chambers of the temple.

"No sir. I've never seen so many sick. So many have died already. Even the clerics can't stop this disease."

Donvan frowned, in all his days as a priest of Torm he had not seen the like of such sickeness .

"Did you use your abilities?" He asked.

"Yes! and they didn't work." Alias paused then looked up, a tear coming down from his eyes. "I can't believe all those people are dying. Is there no way to help them, can the gods be so cruel?

"Yes, they can, even though we follow a just god lad, it doesn't mean we can help all those caught in this plague. These things have been happening to man since the gods created us, and they'll keep happening to humans, elves, dwarves and every other race till all are gone from this world. Kelvemor's realm is crowded this night." Alias cringed at the name of the death god and whispered a silent prayer to Torm. The wails of the cursed came closer.

Both men entered the large prayer chamber, which had become the healing ward for the sick and dying. Alias closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he entered the room of death. The sick smell of decay made his young, eyes wa-ter, and turn his stomach. Gazing toward the right side of the room he saw an old man that had been inflicted with the sickness. Blood oozed from every orifice. Nose, mouth, ears, everything bled. Twitching hands tried to rake at the fester-ing, black sores that covered his body. The old man had, had to be pinned down, and lashed to his cot. Only one thing had been burned into his soul. The sight of the ghoul like yellow eyes sickened by disease.

Alias wished he had been stronger in his faith, so that healing could come more easily. As a Paladin Aspirant, he had mastered all aspects of warfare, heraldry, swordplay, and the like, but he had never taken to the healing part of the teachings. It was as if a part of himself was closed off from himself and with all those who were sick and dying about him , he felt useless.

A large howl of pain tore through the room, breaking Alias from his reverie. The other clerics rushed to the doorway at the side of the room. Donvan was already there when Alias burst into the room. He could see the priest holding down Arimas Brightguard the high cleric of the temple. The spry old man clutched the bed with sickening force, as blood welled like a spring from his mouth. The High priest's robes, once white, where stained blackish red, and the sores on his face festered and popped with disgusting yellow liquid ozzing forth. Donvan's eyes enlarged, as he saw the yellow eyes glare at him. It had been a day and a half since Arimas had been struck down, and the fever quickly shot through the old man.

Donvan, seeing Alias at the doorway cried out, "Bring the water forth, and some cloth." Donvan was almost knocked back as Arimus struggled to break his grip. The high cleric's arm had broke the bounds and now worked to strike anyone near. Alias nearing the bed saw the hand speed his way. It was a ugly claw with oozing boils, and black nails. Alias tried to move out the way, but the hand was fast. It caught the boy across the face, sending him toward the other side of the room.

"Gods!" Donvan cried bringing his strength to bear on the sickened cleric. Both priests battled, and Donvan looked to be losing the fight. The others, seeing Donvan was in midst of trouble, rushed to the bed side, and tethered Arimas to the bed with leather strands. They were almost overwhelmed by the stench that spewed from Arimas's mouth.

It was only afer several moments that the high priest calmed down and his frantic struggles ceased. Donvan quickly sprinted to where Alias had landed, and gathered him up. He could see that the boy had had the wind knocked from him as he lay slumped against the wall.

Donvan gathered a wet towel and placed the cloth about Alias's forehead. Blood seeped from the cut, but the wet cloth absorbed much of the flow. "Are ye well, lad? 'Twas a mighty blow that laid you out." Donvan said. Alias eyes opened weakly .

"What hit me, Don?" He said getting up. "All I saw was a hand, then blackness." He took the wet cloth and finished binding his hurting head.

Donvan pointed to Arimas. "This plague is most foul, if our spells don't work, we'll all be dead within a ten-day - sooner." He walked over to the High cleric's bed, and turned to another of the brothers. "How does he fare?"

The brother shook his head and sighed. " He has calmed, but the sickness runs through out his body. It will kill him in another day if he doesn't receive help."

Donvan moved pass the bed and toward Alias.

"Come we have much to do." he said walking out the room,and barely missed walking into another cleric. The man's face was sweaty and his eyes showed dark rings from lack of sleep. his hair was frazzled and messy,and he looked like he had come from battle.

"Brother Donvan, we have another infected by the plague. He is not like the others, he is new to it. He wishes to speak to the highest of our order."

Donvan cursed, with Arimas down with the sickness, he was the next in line in clerical duty.

"Where is he?"

"There brother," the man pointed, "he lays underneath the blanket near the far wall."

Donvan hoped it was the clue to ending this sickness, if not, all in Water-deep would be dead. If the plague spread farther then the city gates, who knew how many would fall. How much time did they have?

* * *

Narvendal cursed as his horse rode through the gate, and northward. Everything had been going fine, until Thiv betrayed him. He should have killed the little fool, and left him underneath the city tunnels, no body, no clues, no hope. Yet now there was a chance to find a cure, even if they did, it would be to late. He and Elgazar were the only people who knew the secret, they would be dead before someone reached them. Narvdendal laughed as the sun rose from the east, another day or so, the plague would claim all, even Thiv. Death was a foe none could win out from !

Thiv coughed up blood, as his lips tried to make a word. His flesh was tainted black, a sign of the plague. Donvan scooped up a waterskin and made him drink a little.

"What is it, Don?" Alias said peering over his shoulder, and gazing at Thiv's scaly flesh.

"It is a mongrelman, you must pay more attention at your studies, now fetch me more water." Donvan cleaned some of the pus that had burst from a boil, on Thiv's face.

The mongrelman weakly smiled, and laughed.

"Never... thought I would... be helped bysss... Clericsss." His speech could hardly be heard.

"Shhh, rest now ... you are in good hands." Donvan wipe blood from Thiv's eyes.

"Must tellsss yousss...of the mastersss plan before-" Thiv hacked up more blood, and began to shake uncontrollably.

"Alias, get over here quick!" Donvan cried. Alias ran over with another bucket and went to Thiv's body. " What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to call on Torm for faith and help. Cure him!" Donvan said holding down Thiv's body.

Alias face showed disbelief, he had tried before and had failed, how would this situation be any different than the others. Donvan looked on and began to pray. Alias began to chant, if Donvan had faith in him, he would have faith in himself.

Laying his hands on side of Thiv's head, Alias began to pray. The prayer would build strength and courage, thus building the souls healing ability.

Alias could feel his prayer reaching up to the heavens, and his being became full. Torm had heard his call and had answered with kindness. The healing energy ebbed through Alias, into Thiv. He could feel the soul contact, this often happened when he cured someone of sickness. Faith searched for the offending body, killing off the sickness. His energy found the blackened spots within the mongrelman and tried to destroy them. Alias groaned as the held tightly. With all his power he tried to cast out the offending blight. The plague fought back. Alias could do nothing but leave at a stalemate, his healing only prolonging the inevitable.

His hazel eyes snapped open, and sweat poured from his brown hair, that was plastered to his face. he slumped against the wall, once again finding the cold cobble stone wall comfortable. Donvan grinned and rushed over to the boy.

"You've done it!" Donvan grinned. Alias simple shook his head.

" No... I have failed. the sickness is too powerful as with the others, it is to rotted to attached for me to destroy." Alias moved toward Thiv. " I tried my best."

"You best is all you need." Donvan clapped Alias's back. " Let us see how our patient fares."

Thiv's features had eased from its painful rictus. His scaly flesh had stopped bleeding and pussing. The mongrel-man's eyes opened, and for the first time, he smiled.

"Thanksss yousss. It will not lastsss longsss. My Massster wished to dessstroy, me. Asss he wishesss to dessstroy yousss, and the boy." Thiv pointed to Alias.

"Me? why me." He wondered aloud.

"Who is you master?" Donvan asked.

Thiv shook abit, then calmed. " He isss the one cast out of the church of Torm. He isss Narvendal, the Black raider." Alias face was blank.

Donvan cursed, head bent, he swore. "I will kill him myself. Why does he want to kill the boy? The church and I, I can understand, but why the boy?"

He rocked his head in fear.

Opening his mouth, some blood welled out. "He feelsss the boy hasss taken hiss place, and he hatesss boy for it."

"Me! I don't know who this Narvendal is." Alias said to Donvan.

"It's a Long story - one which I can't talk about now." Donvan gathered up Thiv in his arms. "What is your name, and do you know the the cure for this plague.

"My namesss isss Thiv, I helped begin plague for master. Yet heee trick meee and I drinksss plague filled water. He ee thought heee finish meee. He wrong-" Thiv began to hack more blood.

"Don't die! you said you helped create this plague, what's the cure?" Donvan stared at the dying creature.

"I know not how cure plague. Master usssed moss-root known as Doom-spawn to create sickness, only heee have cure. What ever you do can't beee fixed, magic will not work, nor clerical ssspells, we'sss all dooomed." Thiv's eyes began to blink quickly, as the last breaths of air begn to flicker. Alias rushed over to the mongrelman and looked into his eyes one last time.

"Were can we find your master to get the cure?" He said hoping Thiv didn't die before he gave up his answer. With tremendous will power Thiv stood up, his last breaths coming quicker, as his life blood rolled from him.

"You willss find the answer, to the north... keep...known as...Cryrishod..." Thiv slumped back and his last breath tore from his body. Donvan slid the mon-grel-man down and slowly covered the creature's eyes. He slung over the dark blanket and covered him. Both Alias and Donvan sent a prayer to Torm, Illmater, and Tyr the three gods of good. Afterward Alias turned to Donvan with fear in his eyes.

"The last word Thiv said... Cryrishod...Cyric.." Alias mumbled.

"If the prince of lies has returned to Faerun we are doomed. At least we now know our enemy."

Alias turned. "Then by Torm we must defeat his plans!" He said stalking toward his bedchambers, where he held his armor, and sword his father had given him a time ago.

It had been a long time since the blade Windbiter had been unsheathed.

* * *

Narvendal kneeled upon ground made of cool, black stone. The chamber he now resided in was huge by human size. The room could house giants.

The walls were of the same black material as the floor, and shadows played faintly from braziers at the corners of the room. The ceiling loomed high above his head; it was dark so he could not tell how high the ceiling ascended. Looking down he could here the sniveling of the kneeling goblins behind him. Their wimpers made him sick. This was not the glory he had aspired to. He wished everything would could be quickened. Waiting along with goblins was above his station.

Peering up from his kneeling position he could see a throne of fine obsid-ian, gleaming in the waning light. The figure sitting on the throne might have been a giant himself. The figure stood a little over seven feet. Narvendal wondered what darkgod had helped in his birthing.

"Look up Narvendal. Behold the first son of Cyric." The voice shattered Narvedal's inner thoughts, and sent the goblins whimpering to greater heights. The figure stepped down from the throne and began to walk down the stone stairs.

Elgazar eyes blazed with fury. He twirled the white locks about his shoulder in his delicate fingers. The pale light that glistened off his fine features, gave him a ghoulish look, undead even.

"Stand Navendal. Did you succeed with the master's plan. Does Waterdeep still stand?" Elgazar asked, his fine red robes barely making a sound as he neared the Anti-Paladin.

Narvedal cleared his throat. "Waterdeep stands, two days at the most no more." He said lifting up his head. Elgazar stepped ever closer, and moved around Narvendal. The Anti-Paladin could feel the dark cleric's eye upon him, searing the empty place that held his heart and soul.

"Where is Thiv?" The voice was sweet, like that of a youth. It belied the large man. Narvendal gulped sensing what was to come,

"He...He...Escape-." Narvedal never finished the sentence. A vise like grip caught hold of the man and swept him off his knees. Narvendal was no small man towering a little above six feet. He was large and muscular, but Elgazar held him like he would a cat by the scruff.

"What! The mongrel-man escaped, you knew what would happen if you reported failure. "The evil cleric's beared bristled with rage. Elgazar squeezed tighter, the goblins sobbed, and Narvendal was about to die.

"No master... he drank... plague water, " the grip eased allowing more air, "I tainted it... before he...could escape. He is as doomed as the others."

Elgazar unleashed his clenched hand, and simply walked up the steps to his throne.

"For your stupidity, I should take what 's little left of your heart. The only reason I don't kill you now, is because of one fact... you grovel well. And the master has need of you. But if you fail me one more time, I will make sure your flesh is devoured in the deepest pits of the Abyss,and your bones used as mortar for our lord magnificent tower." He said coldly as he sat back on his throne.

"Now I have a job for your goblins, come forward so we may discuss our plans for taking over this region, and preparation for war with the Elves of Everesaka." Elgazar voice crackled like the sound of thunder. Narvendal, eyes bulged, and his mouth drew slack, as he listnened to the plans of a mad man.

* * *

Alias strapped his blue colored breast plate upon his chest. With help Donvan placed the large metal shoulder pads on his young friends shoulders. It took awhile, to strap the other pieces of Alias's Platemail on. When they were finished, Alias stood regal. His crop of short brown hair almost covering his eyes. His tabard of Torm clean and white. Alias wore woolen baggy pants, tucked into hard, riding boots. At his side was his warhammer, at his back was his enchanted two handed sword Windbiter. Donvan smiled as he saw the Paladin Aspirant in full gear.

"I knew this day would finally come, but I never thought it would be under these circumstances." He said sitting at the edge of Alias's bed.

"Nor I." Alias said as he walked over and picked up his backpack. Inside he had all the supplies he would need for his journey north, and toward mount Waterdeep.

"Are you sure you will find them there?" Donvan asked,wanting, wishing he could also gather his gear and go forth beside the young Paladin.

"Yes, I have a feeling that's the direction they came from. And my best guess is to head that way. Even though Waterdeep is quaritened, this plague might escape and cause more trouble." he said walking toward the door. "Any news from the Mage Khelban Blackstaff, or the seven lords?" Alias asked as they both walked down the corridor.

" No... No word yet. For all we know they might be stricken to." Donvan said handing Alias the papers."

"Here these are for you, they'll let you out the city since your immune to the disease anyway, and you can't spread it. Lad you don't know how much I want to go with you." Donvan looked at the son he never had. Alias had grown into a handsome young man, strong, and vigorous. He stood at five, nine and showed all the proud bearing of his lineage and the honor the Torm. Alias clapped Donvan on his shoulder and gave the older cleric a hug befitting a warrior.

"And I wish you were coming old bear. But your the only one left to keep this place together until I return." Alias said walking out into the yard and stables. Donvan followed behind. The young Paladin went into the shack and strode over to a large young stallion. The horse was a fine breed. Its short hair was a deep brown, with a flowing white crop of mane that cascaded down from the crown of the stallion head to the back of the neck. Powerful muscles rippled underneath the horse flesh, and lean graceful legs seemed destined to run forever. Alias stepped over to the stallion, and the horse nickerd away. It showed the whites of its teeth, and the pink flesh of it's gums. Alias smiled.

"Ho boy! Relax its just me. Come Squall." Alias offered a piece of sugar between his fingers. Squall moved forward, shyly at first, then with ease the horse gulped down the sugar cube. Alias patted Squall across the flanks, and smiled.

"Its good to see you too my friend." The horse rubbed it's head against the Paladin's chest, almost knocking him down. "He was spooked, Don, its all the death about. Horses, they can smell it." Alias said as he adjusted the saddle of the horse, and saddled up.

"Well lad this is it, I wish you the best and I hope you return safely. And don't worry this place will still be here when you get back." Donvan hoped.

"I hope so, Don. I hope so." Alias pulled softly on the reins, and the horse cantered out of the stable yard and toward the gates. Donvan sighed, for the last hope of Waterdeep and perhaps the world, now rested in the hands of a boy not even seventeen summers old.

* * *

The tracks traveled down from the forest road into the thick forest hedges beyond. They were small, smaller than human feet, yet larger than others. They were humanoid, for no animal left tracks shaped like a pair of boots. Goblins, were near the small town of Gridal near the Mountain forests of Sar.

If goblins were about that meant trouble.

Trouble the town could live with out.

Quickly gathering her gear, Shalia began to follow the tracks left by the goblins. They were only a couple of hours away, and from a distance she would be able to follow them, and beat them to the village. Shalia, ranger of Melikkie, and forester of the Mountain ranges of the Sar, sprinted after the trail of the goblins.

She hoped there would not be any fighting in the coming day. She giggled to her-self, who was she trying to fool, these were goblins, and knowing goblins a fight was always over the next turn.

* * *

Alias yawned, as the rays of the morning sun peered through the thick canopy of forest cover. He had made camp a several miles away from Water-deep.

As he was leaving Alias had asked a guard at the north gate, if any one had left prior the plague, or had naything seemed unuasual. The guard who was on duty that night replied, that a strange man garbed in a large red cloak had left that very night just before the plague started; and that was almost two nights hense. The rider had headed northward. Alias thanked the guard, and began the hunt.

Sleep caught Alias deep into the trip, and he descide to make camp near the forest beneath Mount Sar.

Making camp, he took a map he had brought with him out of his sack, and gazed at a small village by the named of Gridal scripted upon the old parchment. There he would begin his search, there in Gridal.

Alias felt refreshed as he rode through the forest that morning. The sweet air replaced, the stink of sickness, and death. The air actually replenished him, as did the water from his waterskin. Looking about, he could hear the soft chirping sounds of birds in the air.

Squall cantered for most of the morning. When the sun was at an apex Alias decided to rest, he would be at Gridal shortly. He tethered Squall to a large tree then ate some beef jerky from his pack. He was so hungry, nothing could stop him from lunch, not even the missing sounds of birds chirping. One flew through the trees in a hurry, blasting into the sky. The forest became deathly still.

Alias strode forth and withdrew Windbiter. The two handed sword gleamed in the sun's light. From the other side of the road he could here several grutal noise. The noises were sickening, like a whimpers, or strange talk. Staring from the tree, Alias quickly hid his warhorse and readied. The first figure to crash out the shadows, stood about five feet in height. It's head was shaven completely and sweat covered the top of it yellow, smooth plate. The creature gestured into the forest it had just burst from, and another of it's elk came forth. This one held a rusty spear in it's small hands, and a half dented buckler on it's right. Like the first it wore shredded mail in terrible con-dition. The first creature slapped the other in the head and cried out.

"Glith, Jyad, Feff, Comes out of there hurry! Me heard horse. " The leader said brandishing a well rusted short sword, that seemed to see more sheath than battle. Three more of the creatures came out, each looking like the first, all differing by the color of their skin, from a orange to a yellow hue.

"So who made you in charge, Shiv." One of the creatures said. Alias couldn't tell which one was which, but he knew what those beast were, they were goblins.

Goblins who were looking for any on this road... just his luck they heard him riding by.

* * *

Shalia had picked up the pace, as she tracked the goblins. She had marked five; and had caught up with them late when Selune's moon was high in the evening. Quickly climbing a tree she observed the creatures in their small camp sleeping. She didn't disturbed them. She could have killed them easily in their sleep, but useless slaughter was not her way, or the way of her people. The ranger waited until they had wakened, and left .

She had no idea that the goblins would lead her into a predicament in which she would engage in battle. The goblins had stopped though. In the middle of the road, and they were fanning out looking for something. She hoped it wasn't a weary traveler, if it was, she pitied the the goblins. Of all creatures... the ranger hated goblins the most since they were the sworn enemy of men and good folk. Her grin grew greater even as they rushed about with their rusty weapons.

Goblins weren't known for their battle prowess, but for their breeding habits, they could multiply like rabbits. They were deadly when they fought as a group, and could overwhelm the best fighter. Shalia quickly bounded toward the road and took shelter high atop the trees. She unslung her bow and knocked and arrow. What could go wrong?, she thought.

The goblin known as Feff swiped at the leaves where Alias was hiding. The Paladin moved slowly without making a sound, and walked into the sunlight out of the covers of the trees. Feff jumped back startled. "Shiv I've found'em." He said reeling back. The others quickly ran over to the their companion and began to speak in their guttural language.

Alias stepped forward holding Windbiter in his hands. For a brief moment he felt dizzy as a wave of nausea came over him. It was if the feeling was coming from the goblins. Had he caught the sickness? he wondered.

The goblin known as Shiv smiled and spoke in broken common tonuge.

"You's just a boy what you be doing out of crib." He hoisted up his short sword. The second goblin hefted his spear and readied to throw.

Battle fear gripped, Alias. This was his first time in combat, he had no sense of what to do. Where was all the training he had undergone, where had all the time spent in sword practice disappeared to?

Now Alias faced the real thing no longer would it be for practice this would be for real.

Shalia eyes widened as she saw the young man walk into clear day light. She bit her lip, and waited to see what he would do. She knew what the goblins would do.

They would attack.

Alias stood forth and sent a silent prayer to Torm, he smacked Shiva's rusty sword away, and cried out. "In the name of Torm I give you the chance to lay down your arms. If you do not, I will be forced to smite you, in fair combat."

Shalia smacked her forehead, and groaned. A Paladin. Only a Paladin would offer a speech before going to battle. She readied her arrow, as she saw the leader of the goblins begin to move forward. Shiv saw nothing wrong about killing the young human, and taking his fine weapon. With it he could rule over his tribe and be war leader under Narvendal.

The goblin, looked at the others, and cried out. Alias jumped back seeing the creature running toward him to skewer him on a rusty sword. The paladin didn't feel a thing. Shiv didn't feel a thing either, as he slumped down to his knees, blood welling from the sword cut above his head. Shiv would never feel anything ever again.

The other goblins seeing their leader go down, rushed into battle. The sec-ond goblin with the spear, hoisted and let the death rod, fly. Alias easily dodged, and ran at the goblin, bringing his two-handed sword to bare. Windbiter tore into the goblin splitting, the creature in half.

The third goblin came around. In his hand he held a short sword like the first. Alias reversed his movement, and his training took care of the rest.

His two-handed sword blasted through the chest of the yellow skinned creature. The goblin shuddered on the blade then died. The forth goblin headed in swiftly, brandishing his rusty dagger. Alias's back was to him and he hadn't seen the goblin coming. The creature leapt up and thrust the dagger right into the paladin's left eye. Alias screamed as pain flared about his face. It was as if his whole body was racked with fire.

Blood streamed out his left eye, and he fell to his knees dropping his sword.

Seeing his foe down the goblin and his companion both readied their killing blows.

The goblins never had a chance, as stinging sensations flew through their bodies. The goblin that had wounded Alias went down in a heap clutching his chest, an arrow shaft sticking out. The other had been cut down, falling beside its companion with an ar-row thrusting from it's mouth.

Shalia, quickly jumped down from her hiding place above the trees, and ran past the goblins. She moved toward the Paladin who lay face first in the soft dirt. There was blood everywhere, and she preyed to Tymora the goddess of luck that he was not dead. Turning Alias over she saw that he still breathed, yet he was unconscious, his left eye forever gone.

* * *

Rain descend from dark clouds that moved listly overhead. The ground was muddy from the combination of dirt and water. As lightning scrapped the sky like a dwarven hammer to a anvil, the voices of the clerics of Torm could be heard. Several men lifted their fine robes, and gently lifted the casket from it berth. Donvan raised his voice to the sky and held his holy book to his chest and chanted.

"Tormus Guardus Valus." The words of Torm, warmed the blood of many of the clerics, as rained soaked their bodies, and chilled their bones.

High Cleric Arimus Brightguard was slowly lowered into his burial mound. Beside him was the body of Thiv. Donvan cried as did many of the brothers of Torm. They had loved the old cleric, but not as much as Donvan. It was Arimus that had undertaken him to the ways of clerical life, just as he had with Alias. The old cleric would be missed. Donvan went over to the mound of dirt and sprinkled some fine elven dust on the grave. " Good by old friend." He said after finishing his prayers. The other brothers looked to him, know that he was High Cleric.

As if knowing what was on their minds he turned and spoke.

"We can only wait, for Alias. I have sent word to Khelban Blackstaff, and lord Piergeiron. They have told me that they are doing everything in their power to the find the cure of this plague, but so far they have no answers. They have summoned Elminster of Shadow Dale to assist. We can only hope he can find a cure, or Alias can bring us what we seek. Come my brothers, we still have many bodies to bury before this day is over let us get to it."

Donvan, said as he walked toward main temple, his thought solely on Alias. Make it back son we need you, he thought as he entered the dimly lit corridor of the temple of Torm.

* * *

The Goblin struck and the dagger tore into his left eye. Alias screamed in pain, and fell. His flight lasted for an eternity, he didn't know when he would stop descending. The pain tore at him like a warm blade. Finally his world came crashing, like a spiral comet.

Alias tried sifting through the fog he saw before him. At first there was nothing, but darkness. He barely could make out a shape, actually a figure of some sort. It was strange, he could see from one side of his face but the left side there was only darkness. Fear coursed his veins, as a tender voice cut through the mists of his mind.

"Ahh you have awakened." The voice said. The image Alias could see know, was becoming clearer. The form was a silhouette, then became substantial. It was definetly a woman, a fair one at that. Still she seemed far away. Alias tried to get up, his hand comimg to the bandages across his left eye.

"Hey, are you crazy, you'll open up the wound," she pushed him back down, "look, don't touch the wrappings. Your lucky to even be alive." The woman said. She reached for the table and picked up a small wooden bowl, that billowed off hot steam. The smell wafted in the air, and Alias's stomach groaned, he was hungry. The woman smiled.

"It seems your hungry." she smirked, and fed him some with a spoon. The broth was hot and filling, it had the taste of onions and beef inside.

"Your lucky, most men don't get a chance to sample my cooking." She snickered.

"How long have I been here? who are you?" Alias asked. The woman beamed, then her smile disappeared.

"Question, Questions. My name is Shalia Traildon, forester of these re-gions. And where you are is simple, you in my cottage here in Gridal." She said as he slurped down some more broth. She quickly brought some water to him. Alias sipped it daintily, as predict dictated, then gave the cup back. Shalia smiled, definitely a paladin through and through.

His hand moved toward his bandages, Alias felt for the area of his left eye. Shalia rushed over to stop him, but he warned her off.

"How many days have I've been asleep." He feared to ask her the real reason his hand was on his eye."

"You 've been here a day, and I'm surprised you've healed so quickly." She didn't want to tell him about his sight.

"And my eye." A tear flowed down his right eye.

Shalia knew that the boy held the answer to his own question, yet she spoke.

Her voice was gentle, and mixed with a twinge of sadness.

"It is lost, you will never be able to see from it. I tried my best to save your sight, and so did the town healer, yet it was to no avail." She said turning away and pouring an-other glass of water for herself. Alias faced turned dark. He would never be able to see from his left side again.

How could he be a warrior with only one eye? How could he fin-ish his mission for Torm, no... his mission for his friend and the people of Waterdeep?

Despair filled him, and he tore at the bandages about his face. Blood began to well out the socket, and flow. Shalia screamed, fear gripping her. She ran to him and tried to hold him back from his grisley task. Alias pushed her aside, and placed his hands over his left eye. The despair that had him was squashed out. He would not whimper like some dog.

"I will not let down Donvan! I will not forsake you my lord, my god Torm!" He cried, just as the flows of spirit and inner strength poured out his soul, into his hands. Torm had heard his cries and forged him new strength.

Alias could feel the the flesh of the socket slowly close about his left eye. The healing was the most extensive he had ever felt. Sweat poured from his head and his hands shook about his face. Slowly the eye lid of his left eye turned to normal, but the eye that was not there would never be healed.

Closing his left eye forever, he turned to Shalia who looked on stunned, her mouth open with disbelief.

Alias turned toward her. She still seemed far away from him. this was something he would have to get use to and quick, if he was to fight again.

Walking over to Shalia he bent over and picked her up by her hand.

"I'm sorry my'lady. I didn't mean to treat you so harshly. In my anger I forgot my-self and I will do penance for it." Alias said as she moved off the floor.

She was a beautiful girl. She stood about five feet tall. Red hair cascaded down her shoulders and back in curly waves. Alias smile broadened as he gazed at her green eyes. Shalia turned from his gaze, and a light crimson appeared about her creamy cheeks. Her red lips were small and full, and Alias thought he had never seen someone so beautiful. He hadn't much dealing with the opposite sex, so he found himself strangely embarrassed at his thoughts, he would have to prey to Torm about that as well.

"So, what is your name boy?" Shalia asked gathering the bloody sheets off her bed. She found Alias helping her.

"My name is Alias Windswept, Paladin of Torm, of Waterdeep." He smiled.

"Waterdeep? So what brings you to the Forest of Sar." She asked gathering up the last of the sheets. Alias wondered if he could trust her, and gave her a dubious look. Shalia smirked.

"Come on, I saved your life. I could have left you out there for the goblins." Alias shrugged and sat down. " Four days ago Waterdeep was hit by a deadly plague, a plague unlike anything we've ever seen. My brothers at the temple , tried to combat it with clerical spells and the like, yet the sickness only worsened. We discovered that the plague was not natural, but man made," he paused and wondered if he could trust her fully, he needed some one to trust, some on to help him, he could not do it alone.

"We discovered it a was a man from our own brotherhood, one wanting revenge on me and my brothers. I decided to head north after him after I had spoken to a guard in the city. He had seen a man that looked strange leave that night. I decided to come here to Gridal to find a answer to the plague. Well you know the rest." He said sarcastically as he pointed to his eye. Shalia smiled, for some odd reason she liked Alias. It had been a long time since she had had com-pany, and heck he wasn't so bad, if he didn't get himself killed first.

"Well I know this area like the back of my hand. I'll aid you on your quest. I've nothing else to do, we've killed the goblins." She said as she brought his armor, and sword forward. "Here I saved these for you." She smiled. Alias returned it with a grin - he had hoped his most prized weapon Windbiter had not been taken.

"Oh I've almost forgotten, I was also seeking a tower or castle known as Cryrishod, do you know where that might be?" Alias asked as he pulled on his shirt. Shalia thought for awhile, then answered. "I know of one place, but it was deserted years ago. It was home to a eccentric Mage known as Banesworth, used to say that he was a god reborn. Most people about thought him crazed, I'm one of them. Ten years ago during the times of trouble he simply disappeared, and was never seen in Gridal or any of the other villages. Its a half a days ride from here. Oh I forgot to tell you, your horse is safe, he got you here." She said as she poured broth into two plates, and again gestured to the table. Alias walked over to a chair and sat he then preyed, and ate his broth, as did Shalia.

As they ate something bothered Alias about the name Banesworth. It ate at him like a cancer. What was it that bothered him about that name Banesworth, Bane...worth, Bane...!, that was it Bane, the keep, Cryrishod. Cyric the god that had usurped Bane's power it was all making sense. Sipping his broth Alias looked at Shalia.

"Can we go and see the keep tomorrow?" he asked. Shalia shrugged.

"Why not." She said as she finished the last of her broth.

If Alias was right he was close to the answer he sought, and tomorrow he would find a cure for the plague.

* * *

"Elgazar, the small goblin group I sent to search the town of Gridal has not returned." Narvendal kneeled below the steps of the cleric. Elgazar simply stared at the anti-paladin, rage filling his eyes with red.

"Fool... I should have known not to trust you. They must have been dispatched by him." He simply tapped his fingers.

"Him who?" Narvendal began to sweat under the intense scrutiny of his master.

"The one who is meant to destroy me! The only one who can bring back what is lost... you fool! He will stop my plans for the conquest of Evereska. I must kill him before that. As I did the other lines of Lyoness." Elgazar voice crackled like thunder.

Narvendal stood up, his long red cloak billowing about.

"I will lead the attack on Gridal myself my lord." He said and turned.

Elgazar saw the anti-paladin begin to walk away when he called out.

"No! You will stay by my side, let the last of the goblins go, they number about thirty. They will finish off the town, and the one who waits to destroy me. Let them go." Elgazar said. Narvendal simply turned and bowed. " As you command master." Then he headed to his chambers.

Elgazar cocked his head back and laughed. It had been to easy, too easy indeed. Yes the body of this long dead cleric had been a gods gift, a gift he would use to its full advantage. Smoke began slowly exhale from Elgazar mouth, and the being that was the cleric cack-led inside the empty chamber. It was only a matter of time until Shadlokin the dream ravager would awaken and become a god.

* * *

Another night had fallen upon Waterdeep. The plague, which had been so named Doombringer ran its course without slowing. Already fear had risen that this plague had spread. In the first four days the plague had claimed almost a thousand lives, and more seemed to be dying the everyday. The clouds also blanketed the city like a shroud of death unrelenting unabating, it was if the city had been cursed. Rain drops the size of coins pelted the ground unrelentlessly. The rain turned stable ground into mud, and washed the dirt off the streets.

A man shuffled about one of the streets, his clothes drenched by the pouring water. He hiccuped, as he tried to relieve himself of the strong elven wine, he had with his mates that night at a local inn.

Now the man sloshed through the streets. Lightning flashed, and the rain came down harder, as he turned the corner leading to his house. Rounding the sidewalk, he bumped into something large and heavy. The man tried to make out what he had stepped into, but the elven wine had dulled his senses.

"Heeey, What'a ya think ya doing." He said and poked his finger into the thing. There was a cracking noise, and the man finger was broken in the middle. The break was bad, bone had been exposed. The man yelped, tears flowing from his eyes, and stepped back. Lightning stroked the sky, illuminating the street. The man had come to his senses instantly, as he tried to correct his broken finger. Going to the blade at his side, he cried again, this time in rage. It would be the last thing he would ever do. His eyes opened un-derneath the light of the storm. The object he had walked into was large about a regular man's height. The object was a man! It was clothed in a shabby silk shirt that was drenched with rain, blood, and yellow pus.

The man reared back as horror gripped him. The figure came forward, his skin gray like death. Black bile, and yellow pus ran like a river, from pockets about its face. It shambled closer and murmured, tight pointy fangs, which looked like they had been chiseled, flashed in the waning lights of the city.

The man tried to move, and slipped onto street. The man's eyes bulged as he saw the man...no the creature jump forward, black tunge spilling out with thick bile. The man saw his death, as twin claws of black obsidian nails tore into his flesh.

The last thing the man saw before he died, were several more of the monsters walking down the street, an army of them. Then the yellow eyes took his life.

Damn those yellow eyes.

Once more the cries of the damned rose up from the city of splendors. This was a plague of another sort, this plague was of the undead kind.

* * *

The ground moved as if alive. Rocks and debris slowly shifted, and a gray, black clawed hands thrust out from the grave of high-cleric Arimus Brightguard.

The undead man's head was the next to pop out of the grave. Rain pelted its face, and the creature shrieked, yellow eyes dancing to regain focus and direction. The creature that was Arimus cared for only one thing. What he desired, and hungered for was the sweet taste of blood, the sweetest blood, the blood of his own stepson Donvan. The creature tore at the ground relentlessly, and finally erupted from the grave like a festering maggot. The creature that was Arimus shuffled toward the doors; before he had been a leader of men, know he was a leader of monsters, as the bodies of Thiv, and others that had died of the plague slowly rose from the grave, ready to feast on the weak. All that mattered was the smell of blood, the sweat smell of blood.

The evil that had taken control of Arimus smiled, he wondered how sweet would Donvan's blood would be. Arimus would now found out.

* * *

Alias woke with a start. He breathed in and out, and looked about the cot-tage for Shalia. His dream was the worst nightmare he had ever had. The dream was beautiful at first, he was at the sea with the parents he never knew, near a fabulous city that jutted out the sea like some spear. It was made of beautiful coral, and blue marble. As he gazed at it the he noticed a women who beckoned him to follow. His family did, yet he stayed back. Fear gripped him. His family reached the castle, and slowly the structure de-scended into the sea. And from the depths came a creature of horrid evil. He had tried to go for his blade, but it wasn't there. The creature with the red flesh and small horns like a lizard snickered.

" So paladin, you have dared enter my domain." The creature snarled flashing rows of teeth that could rend steel . " What a fool, you are. You will fail just like many before you, just like Johan. You will never succeed, and I will be a god - no I will be unto a god." It slurred and the stench from its mouth tore at Alias.

"Never!" Alias cried and ran forward the waiting maw, then his world shattered once more.

Alias walked over to the table where there was a clean bowl of water and wiped the sleep from his eyes. Looking at the mirror, he smirked. He thought he was handsome before, now he couldn't wait to show off his new badge of glory.

"Sometimes I wonder Torm, What do you have in store for me?" He said as he touched his left eye. It still hurt, healing it was hard, but he would be fine. He had already gotten used to seeing with one eye. Yet he would always have a blind spot to his left. That could be fixed, he had seen many men fight blind at many competitions, and he would be no different.

Gazing about he looked for Shalia, but he didn't see her. Nor did he see his gear. Fear coursed through him, and he ran to about the house in search of her. Not a sign. Where had she gone? She had tricked him. Upset with himself the paladin raced toward the door. He opened the door just in time to see Shalia duck a blade strike above her head.

" What in the worl-" his question went unanswered as a goblin ran forward, and barreled head long into him. The creature held a mean looking dagger. Alias flipped him into the bed.

The goblin's dagger flying lose.

Alias picked up the dagger, and let fly. It sped and caught the creature square in the left eye. Alias would have laughed at the irony as the goblin sank to the floor. The blade taring at its head. Alias turned to see Shalia doing battle with two goblins.

Shalia darted back, and whipped out her longsword. The blade gleamed a blue in the flashing sun. In her left hand was a fine hunting dagger about four feet long, and sereated. The goblins came in one thrusting for her mid section, the other for her ribs. The woman moved with grace, the grace of an elf.

With one fluid movement she caught the one aiming for her ribs, with a vertical chop. The goblin head rolled into the dust. The others blade nicked her, yet the rusty steel was turned by her chain-mail. That goblin tried to swing about. Her dagger slashed right in. Blood sprayed the air as its jugular was sliced.

"What is going on?" Alias asked again, he saw several of the creature run-ning about, and flames streaming from houses though out the town.

"Get in and garb yourself." She said thrusting a large satchel at him. She entered her room, and quickly gathered her pack and the gear, she would need them for the trip.

Alias opened the bag to see his fine plate-mail armor gleaming int he light. he also saw new clothing, brown baggy pants, a white shirt and new boots, his sword had been cleaned and polished as well as his armor. The last thing was an eye patch. When he put it on it reminded him of an old story about pirates and treasure. It didn't take long to get ready and his armor fit perfectly, he was a new man.

"You look fine, lets get out of here." Shalia grabbed him, and rushed through the door and into chaos.

All about the adventures the slaughter had commenced. Goblins ran all about fighting, and slaying villagers. The Men of Gridal put up a valiant fight, but with out help they would fall.

Shalia and Alias ran out back to where she had stabled the horses. They both saw one of the green skin creatures running after a young girl. She screamed as the goblin warrior neared.

"We can't leave them." Alias said and ran after the goblin. The girl screamed harder, as the creature moved closer.

The goblin brought up its dagger and slowly smiled, showing of its maw of blackened teeth. The goblin never knew what hit it as a hammer smashed down upon its head.

"Torm forgive me." Alias said as the goblin sank to its knees.

"Come on we can't wait here!" He said grabbing her up, and running. Three gob-lins gave chase all bearing shorts-sword stained with blood. Alias turned and continued to run, he would not let this child be killed.

The goblins ran with all their might, the killing had been good, and there blood-lust had risen. Two more wouldn't make a difference. They were wrong. A goblin was right on the heels of Alias, and would have reached the paladin , but an arrow tore through his head and brain. The dead creature tumbled, into his mate. Another goblin fell tangled with a dead body. The third had escaped. Shalia was quickly on the tangled one . The creature tried to slash out. It was no good Shalia, mass was to great, and with one good swipe, her hunting dagger ripped into his heart. Shalia hated goblins, she hated killing them. She wouldn't get rid of the stench of goblin stink for weeks.

The goblin right on Alias, poised to strike.

The girl screamed.

The Goblin swung.

And time stopped. Alias had felt the evil behind him, and was sickened, yet he moved faster than before.

Time began.

The girl screamed.

The goblin swung, this time it was blocked by the mighty warhammer. Alias eye burned with fury, and the strength of Torm flowed through him. He tensed on the goblin's puny weapon and pushed forward. He then brought the warhammer down with all his might. The goblin's head caved in like an egg, and its shoulders and lungs collapsed by the mighty blow. It buckled and slowly died.

"May your soul rest with your god, evil one." Alias said and hoisted the little girl by his shoulders. She smiled. "Your my hero." She kissed him on the cheek. Alias blushed and sprinted to where her parents had hidden.

"Take care of her shes' going to be a mighty warrior some day." Alias said to her parents as they hugged their child . The little girl with dark bangs and gray eyes grinned.

Yes, someday Vinra Greyeyes would be a hero.

There were no more than ten goblins out of the thirty that had ridden down on Gridal. Five had been taken down by Alias, and Shalia, and the last ten had been surrounded by the male villagers. Most had pitch-forks, hoes, and gar-dening materials of the sort. Other had good weapons. All could kill goblins. Shalia and Alias ran toward the gathering crowd. The paladin could see the goblins caught in a vise of angry villagers. This vise would slowly close, ready to smother the whimpering creatures.

"They don't deserve to die like this." Alias said aloud. The villagers turned about stunned, as did Shalia.

"Have you lost your mind!" She yelled in his face. "Haven't these people suffered enough." She turned away. "Haven't you suffered enough, haven't they."

Alias was quiet, as the thong readied. Could he let these creature die just for vengeance. They had attacked the village, and had caused many deaths.

Half the population had been destroyed. vShalia looked at Alias once more.

"They are lucky they even get this type of death. At least they go out fighting." She said, as the battle was joined. The creatures didn't last long, and the chops and hacks were quick. They died honorably , a code they had never known in life.

Alias felt sorrow even for his enemies. The goblins weren't to blame, their leader was. Narvendal would pay, even though he felt guilt upon his heart it woldn't last long; he knew that this would not be the first time he killed goblin nor would it be the last, in his eyes of justice had been served, thus in the eyes of Torm, justice had been done.

* * *

The doors shattered, underneath the mighty arms of the undead. The sacred temple of Torm had been breached, and the murmurs of death began. Those who were unlucky and sickened with the plague would never rise to become un-dead. The ghouls tore into those souls first, feasting on sickened flesh. One cleric, a middle aged man ran into the throng of the creatures, and thrust his holy simple out. Calling upon his god, he felt his faith surge through his holy item. The creatures shambled on. Fear reigned on the mans face, as the Ghouls stripped his flesh from his body, each taking part in the grisly feast. The man's death throes weren't long. His brothers came and slashed with hammer, and sword and fire. Even as the men of Torm fought bravely, it seemed undeath challenged them. Body pieces flailed about. A severed hand clawed one cleric's face, black talons bringing dark death. The hand's master sinking deep his fangs, and blood rolling down its mouth as it chewed greedily. Another cleric saw a ghoul slowly moving down the halls towered the infirmary. he set the thing aflame. The burning creature tore into the sick room and set it alight, the poor souls inside burned not of the plague but of fiery death. The cleric cried out, as he ran something grabbed his arm, and spun him about.

The Undead Arimus Brightguard sank his fangs deep into the cleric's head and drank deep, draining the man's blood from him. The cleric slumped to the floor with a bone cracking smash.

Arimus looked up to the ceiling and snickered, his yellow eyes glowing in the damp torch light. His minions had almost won the war know it was time to claim the general. His figure twisted and became fine smoke and sifted down toward the holy chamber, where he would find Donvan; there he would sup deeply the red wine that held life. The yellow mist flowed down the corridor, and came to a large metal door. Arimuas transformed from gas form, to that of his original figure. The creature snickered and his black tunge traced his fangs, soon, very soon, he thought. With his new found might, the doors shattered like glass, and Arimus strode in, garbed in his burial clothing . The undead fiend smiled as he saw a man kneeling in the middle of the alter, upon the seal of Torm itself.

"You were foolish to bury me on these grounds Donvan. A better cleric would have known... but then again you weren't much of student were you !" The creature said with malice.

The fine boots of Arimus clicked upon the cobblestone. The figure in the white cloak hadn't moved. This made Arimus burn with fury.

" Stand before me fool. Stand before a real god... Stand before a man reborn. Know the might of a true vampire!" Arimus said, his burial cloths shredding.

His skin began to plop, and sizzle, as if acid was eating at the dead flesh. The white robed figure stood up, and unfurled his long white cape. Arimus hissed and reeled back as his bones snapped and twisted as they changed. Upon his arms long gangly folds of skin developed, and blood pumped through new veins being born.

Donvan stood, upon the symbol of Torm. He was garbed in field-platemail of the most ornamental design, adorned with the hand-symbol of Torm upon it. His hands were garbed in gauntlets of fine gold, and he wore a helm that matched his golden armor. Feathers streaking from the sides. In his hands he held a halberd of the most beautiful make, it gleamed with a beautiful life of its own, and when Donvan hoisted the mighty weapon it spoke. Strike now, master, before it can complete its transformation. Yet how could he? The creature before him was Arimus. Arimus was the father he never had; how could he? It was Donvan's time to reel back, as Arimus leapt from the floor, even as a snout blasted from his face.

Arimus had become some fiend from the abyss, as he glided about the hall, Donvan thought as he hoisted up the halberd of lightning known as Tormlight.

* * *

Alias on Squall, and Shalia on her mare, rode hard through the day. She cut to a seldom used path to get them to the mountain region known as the Mountains of Sar. The Mountains were gigantic, in size they matched Mount Waterdeep. Their gray hides jutting out the earth like teeth from a long dead dragonform a time before man.

"There do you see it." Shalia pointed toward the dark keep that lifted out of the mountain. The structure known as Cryrishod, stood out like a festering sore. A sore ready to be boil over.

"That is Banesworth's home. Look about this area, there are no animals, no trees, nothing lives here." She said in disgust. Alias gazed about the region, she was right. Everything had been destroyed, scourged; like a plague.

"Cryrishod was Baneworths home. And you should have believed in the rumors, he was a god. " Alias said snapping the reins.

Shalia laughed. "Paladin you are the craziest person I have ever met. Baneworth a god, Hah!"

Alias simply shrugged. " It hadn't dawned on me until I was eating dinner at your cottage. Think about it Baneworth... Bane. Cryrishod... Cryric. Who ever lives there now, lives under a roof of a evil god. Which of course is bad for you, and worse for me." Alias smiled, even though he was sick to his stomach. He had gained the final faith ability, and that was the ability to sense evil. Right now evil permeated the place, much like cheese left upon a open table for days.

" Tell me your kidding... tell me we're not going into the lair of a god." She said adjusting her a hair and putting it into a red bun. Alias gazed stupidly at at the women, who he saw now in a different light. Shalia turned and frowned, " What? Is there something on my face?"

Alias cheeks turned red. "Yyour ears, they're pointy... you are an elf?"

" Yes! didn't you know that already. Here I thought you were a grown man, and would not be so high-strung about my race." She said coyly. She knew that he was young only about sixteen. Yet the lad was beyond his years by the way he carried himself. She did it to tease him, and she giggled like some elf maiden prancing about in a sunny dale

v"Look this isn't going to be a problem is it?" She said trying to hold back her laughter.

"No." Alias said and they continued to ride toward the keep of Cryrishod.

* * *

Narvendal looked out the main battlements of the keep, and spied two riders ap-proaching the main walls of Cryrishod. Beside him was a man wearing black platemail, and a longsword at his side. " My lord, Fzoul Chembryl of the Zhentil keep, sends his regards, and says he has spared twenty of his best warriors to aid thee. Twenty one, if you count me." The man smiled. It was a roguish grin outlined with ragged scars all about his face. Eyes of dark brown watched over the anti-paladin.

"And what is your name Zhentilar?" Narvendal asked.

"The name's Ivenes Shan, captain of this squad of Zhentilar. We're called the wolf-pack by many. " Ivenes said. The man stood a foot taller than the anti-paladin. Narvendal smiled, a toothy grin, then turned. " Let them into the keep, kill the girl, keep the boy alive."

"Why the boy?" Ivenes asked much to his displeasure, as five, feet and more of steel stood at his neck. The bastard sword glowed fiery red. " Because I say so. That is enough, do what you were hired to do." Narvendal withdrew his blade, and the red light flared hungrily. " Yes my lord, your will. Ivenes shuffled off, and the call to battle was given. Narvendal sighed. Nothing was going to take his revenge away... nothing.

The boy would die by his hands, and if Elgazar interceded he would die to.

* * *

The halberd known as Tormlight flashed like a lightning bolt, racing toward the ceiling, just as the bat-creature, that was Arimus descended down.

The vampire swirled out of the way, as the shaft exploded against solid stone. Arimus landed hard as debris smashed against his body and wings. Donvan strode forward, his armor clanking with every step. With practice ease he gripped the creature by its neck and hoisted it into the air.

"You are not Arimus. You are nothing but this evil plague manifested." He said slamming the vampire against the wall with a resounding crack.

Arimus had never known Donvan held so much power in his body. Even with the vampire incredible power he could not break the hold of the High Cleric.

"My friend is dead, you are not he...!" Donvan hand came up, and where there was nothing a second before, the gleaming metal of Tormlight appeared. Is it time master, can I slay this evil thing? Donvan reared back, and snapped forward Thunder and lightning struck the wall.

Green mist appeared and trailed out the doors.

"No!" Donvan yelled chasing after green smoke. Donvan ran smack into the legion of undead. A ghoul its finger tips thick with blood and gore stepped forward, ready to feast again. Tormlight erupted setting the rotting animated flesh a flame. The halberd's magic turned into a shaft of lightning, and a thunder clap rebounded off the walls. Everything in the corridor turned to ash, as Tormlight delt Torm's justice. Then the mighty weapon reappeared.

Donvan walked about the corridors of his temple, and saw that his broth-ers were all slain. Using torch and holy-water he sanctified their bodies, so they would not rise again. then he strode toward the door to escape. He was blocked by at least ten ghouls. They were led by the dead mongrelman, Thiv. Donvan grunted, and stepped forward, when Tormlight beckoned him. Beware master, it is our foe returned to slay us from behind.

Donvan turned to watch as a mighty black clawed hand came his way. He remembered that same clawed hand hitting Alias four days prior. The blow sent the cleric off his feet and into the nearest wall. He landed in a heap and tried to keep awake, blackness stared at him, as did the fanged smile of Arimus.

* * *

Alias rode toward the blackened draw bridge. As Squall crossed over, he could see the blackened water beneath them churn angrily. It was as if the river raged against it's earthen prison. Shalia quickly trotted across. Her mare becoming more jittery every step. "Whoa there, relax girl." She said patting the beast. Alias could feel it to. Evil permeated this place in every crack, every stone. Squall had also become skittish. The Paladin rode on, the faith of Torm within him. Looking about he could see the yard empty, except for a small gate house. The court was covered by dark soot, and dust. The structure in the middle was long like a candlestick, a candlestick made of dark mortar. Alias unhorsed himself, and tethered Squall to the nearest yard post, as did Shalia.

"Do you get the feeling were not wanted here?" She asked. Alias shook his head.

"He's here... inside. He can feel me, and I him. Two sides of the same coin." Alias said walking toward entrance of the tower. Shalia stopped him. She gestured to the gate house. Five shadow converged from the structure. They came into the waning sunlight, baring swords of the finest steel. The figures were all covered in blackmail of the best cut. About their waist they wore sashes made of wolf fur. Shalia almost yelled, when she saw the sashes. They had killed wolves for decorations, they had desecrated life so, she was about to move, but stopped in her tracks when she felt the strong grip of Alias on her shoulder.

"Let them make the first move." He said. She glared at him then relaxed.

The men stepped closer, brandishing their longswords. From the look of it they were sellswords, mercenaries for hire. Alias stepped forward hands open. He had not drawn his sword.

He smiled, "Look we mean you know harm so put the weapons down." The men laughed. One a burly fighter standing over six feet, laughed the hardest.

" Hah... good joke lad... you may not want to harm us, but we'll sure gonna harm ya, after we've had some fun with her first. Then we'll gonna hurt ya... hurt ya really bad" The man said and moved closer. Alias sighed loudly, and on the fighter's next step he brandished Windbiter.

"Ho! the whelp has a toy." The man said looking at his fellows. "So one eye what ya gonna do with that toy... huh... ya going to hit me." As he turned his back to Alias, Shalia came from behind and cocked back her right fist. The punch caught the man right in the face, breaking his nose, ending his life, as cartilage and bone shot right into brain. Alias watched stunned as she stood over the dead man.

"He might not have hit you but by hell I was." She said backpedaling as the wolves charged. Alias had a stunned expression on his face, and watched Shalia whip out her longsword smoothly. The first wolf thought himself fancy, and began to make moves he shouldn't have, Shalia simply obliged him. Cutting his stomach open underneath his mail. Now the man would have all the time to do all the fancy moves he wanted to while waiting on line to meet the death.

The battle joined, Alias entered the fray. A wolf moved to intercept him. This one was a ragged veteran of coutnless battles. The Zentilar brought his steel down upon Alias. Alias blocked, sparks flying from both blades. The man reversed, bringing his longsword down in a chop, Alias feinted to the left , and swung. His blade was blocked. The man was good, Alias thought as they once more came together. "Heh your pretty good with a blade whelp, to bad I have to kill you."

They broke the stalemate, and Alias went down to the floor and rolled foward, as the wolf's momentum carried him back. That was Alias' s chance, as he plunged the two handed sword into his belly. The man looked down and gazed at his opened abdomen, and saw his life filter away.

Both Zentarim Wolves came at the eleven ranger at quick attempts. Lounging, and striking. Shalia did everything in her power, countering the strikes. Unlike the wolf before these men were trained well. Both came in again and they worked their blades in synch. She parried each strike easily. Dagger to Blade, long blade to long. One of the wolves got to close overextending his thrust. Shalia simple rolled mimcking Alias's move and cut his stomach out. Then with a sweep she caught the other wolf from behind his feet, and sent him to the floor. The wolf , fell and the elf maiden was on him her dagger cutting through the chainmail like a knife through soft cheese.

Alias helped her off the dead man body, and with a smile gripped her hands. She trembled. All of this killing had effected her deeply. Alias looked at her and genlty led her away from the bodies. "I would love to ask were you trained." he said. Shalia returned his smile. "After we get out of this." She replied, as Alias opened the door to the temple and they went in.

* * *

The blackness was cold, and he could feel nothing, not his heart,nor his hands, nothing. Was this what it was like to be dead, Donvan asked himself. Suddenly a surge of air came to his lungs as something shouted in his head, Master, quickly awaken or we are doomed... the creature is upon us! Tormlight yelled. Donvan eyes snapped open in time to see the maw of Arimus descend upon his throat. The cleric quickly rolled towards his right, and came up on his knee. In front of him was the ghoul Thiv eating one of his brothers. Out of instinct Donvan called forth the mystical halbard and let fly. The ghoul Thiv cried out, his wailing making Donvan sick, as the magical flames ate at his undead body.

Donvan turned about and saw Arimus bearing down upon him. The cleric caught the vampire flailing arms and held the creature at bay. Yellow eyes gleamed with life. Donvan felt himelf slip back into darkness. His hands were hurting, his feet could not support his weight. " Where are you my god! help me!" Donvan cried out. The vampire let out a shrill cry and fell to the floor. Donvan gaped down to see the blazing emblem of Torm's hand glow with a mighty light.

Tormlight once more in his hands he stood before Arimus the vampire.

" Please...," the creature wimpered, "dont' harm me."

Donvan put his foot down upon his old friends neck, tears fell from his eyes as he pushed down. Spittle flew from the vampire's mouth. Donvan hand was stayed as he gazed at the wretch. Those yellow eye locked on him again, and Donvan knew that this creature was Arimus no more . Arimus had been laid to rest a days ago.

Donvan knew what must be done.

"Let the will of Torm be done. Goodbye old friend, you shall bask in the light of good, and know true peace." Tormlight drew back, and Donvan plunged the god blessed weapon into the heart of Arimus. The vampire squealed as his life force was expunged from the dust that was left. Turning Donvan and Tormlight began the hard job of clearing the temple of the evil that had infest it.

* * *

"By Torm!" Alias said dipping down as another sword went over his head. He plunged his father's blade into the wolf and shoved him to the side as another came baring down. A man leapt from the top of the stairs, both Alias and Shalia had begun to race up. He held twin short sword in his hands, and they meant death. Not today! Alias thought letting fly his warhammer. His tight, youthful muscles sent the hammer flying at speeds that could crack a dwarven ale barrelat a spring festival. The hammer connected hard, sending the man off course, pass Shalia, who held tightly to the banister. The man's death wail could be heard, followed by a sicking crack, as spine met stairs. "Do these guys ever quit." Alias half joked. Shalia simple shrugged. "Nope!" Another wolf held a crossbow at the fourth floor and was about to fire. Shalia quickly ran in front of Alias, and let loose her dagger, at the same time the crossbowman fired. The bolt sped through the air, as did the dagger. Shalia's aim was better. The man fell back clutching his heart. She slammed back into Alias and spun face first into his chest.

"Shalia!" Alias cried as he held the elf women. She was cradled in his arms, looking at him pleadingly. "What's with the tears, hero?" She smiled and pulled the bolt from her shoulder. Alias simply gazed at her again. "And you say I'm crazy." He lifted her up, and wiped the tears from his eye. He didn't even know he had begun crying. "Come on one more flight to go." She yelled and bounced up the stairs Alias followed her.

They had already fought a dozen Zhentarim or more since coming here. Five men outside, five men on the main floor, ten on the first; he was surprised he had made it, and now two more men on the stairway up. That made twenty two. How many men did Narvedal have? Alias wondered. He changed his estimation to twenty three, as Shalia kicked a man through a door into another room. Running by, Alias could not keep up with the ranger, as another fell to her flashing blades. She was beautiful and deadly all in the same right. He shook his head, if he continued to think on those line he would be killed, and then there would be know cure for Waterdeep, and its people.

Alias saw the blur of movement and tilted his body just in time, as the spiked ball and chain crashed into table. The chain was long made out of forged iron and at the tip of the weapon was a ball made of spikes. This weapon was like a whip, long, and deadly. The man wielding it smiled, as he saw the paladin and the ranger turn to him.

"Amazing I can't believe you two have killed my best men." the man smiled.

"Who in the nine hells are you." Shalia asked, and Alias blanched at the words .

"Well, now lass... you seem to be in quite of a hurry. Hum... before you die I can give you my name at least, Ivenes shan. You see I've been hired by the man who owns this small keep, and we in the Zhentilar always keep our agreements. " Ivenes snickered

Both Shalia, and Alias mouths dropped. Those men they had just fought were from Zhentil Keep. They had wiped out a whole squad of warriors that had come from that hated stronghold.

Ivenes laughed when he saw their shock. "Now come on, you can't tell me your not pros. You wiped out the famous wolf pack, a group that's been around even before the time of troubles. I'm quite impressed. I give you my compliments girl, before you die, and I'll give the boy to the dark one upstairs."

Shalia,and Alias looked at each other, and Alias moved on intstinct bolting up the stairs. "Damn!" Ivenes cursed, and whipped the metal chain, to grab Alias. Shalia blocked the chain weapon with her longsword and smiled.

"Now I get to finish what I started. Never again will you use a wolf hide as a decoration." She smiled evily. Someone was about to get hurt.

* * *

Alias ran up the stairs into the hallway. Looking about he could see a man standing by two large double doors.

The figure was a man a few inches taller than himself. He wore black platemail of the finest make. A long red cloak draped about his shoulders. Dim light played softly upon his smooth skin. It was a fair face, not tanned by the rays of the sun. He had a slender nose, and dark eyebrows. His eyes flashed with intensity, only a man driven mad would have. About the top of his lip was a fine mustach, connected to a v-shaped beard giving the man a devilish look. The man moved closer and stood arm in akimbo, blocking Alias's way .

"It took you long enough." Narvendal smirked. "I see you also had a change of face since I've last laid my eyes on you." He snickerd some more.

Alias was not amused. The paladin walked forward. Narvendal quickly pulled out his sword Bitter and lifted it Alias way.

"I've waited a long time Boy, finally I will have what is right fully mine."

Alias mind flashed back as he gazed at Narvendal's mad expression.

The caravan that day had been escorted by Narvendal and Ishap, under tight guard bearing the newest brothers to the temple of Torm in waterdeep. At the time Alias had barely been inducted into the ranks of the brotherhood, but it was by Donvan's council that the high clerics of Torm allowed Alias, the newest member of their ranks to become Paladin, passing over Narvendal who had run off as a coward .

Alias barely remembered giving the verbal account of what had happened on the trip to Arimus the head cleric. He remembered telling all that he had saw.

He had spoken of the attack of the Orcs, and how the Paladin Ishap had fought well, and how Narvendal simply turned and fled for his life. That days cowardice had been paid with a life. It was Donvan own brother, Ishap, that had paid the price of Narvendal treachery. Alias could remeber the pain upon Donvan's face that day, when he had been told his brother had been slain.

Alias remembered well the face of the man responsible. The visage was the same one in front of him now.

"So you recognize me." Narvendal tapped the blade against the cobble, stone wall.

"It was because of you and that bastard Donvan I was cast out. Because of you, I have this." He tore at his metal plate and exposed his chest. Where there had been cloth a shirt was now, ripped and it exposed a great gaping hole that once beat a heart . The man's chest looked to have been torn out by some creature.

Alias was amazed the he still lived. "Oh yes, I lost something very precious when I gave my soul to Cyric. But I gained strength and power." Narverndal snickered. Alias stepped back.

"I've come for the cure, and I want it now." Alias said withdrawing Windbiter. The two-handed sword gleamed in the torch light. "You blame me for something you did... you put harmless people in line for your vengence...you cast away Torm for that," Alias pointed to the hole in his chest, " you make me sick."

"Where is the cure for the plague? I'm growing tired of this game." Alias gripped his blade tighter. Narvendal snickered.

"Well, the cub has fangs." He moved closer and both warriors swords glowed with magic fire. "That is simple, You will have to kill me to stop the plague. The magic from the Doom spawn root flows through me. I was the one who tainted the water supply in Waterdeep. It was simple really by causing disease insteasd of curing it, the Doom spawn flowed through me. Just as Thiv. Oh, he's probably dead now. I pity who ever finds him, they'll bound to have a rude welcome, when they realize how ghoulish the plague will make him.

Alias face dropped, this man was evil. The plague in later stages would form ghouls and undead. Alias moved foward and shifted his feet, he then ran at Narvendal. His evil had to come to a end.

Narvendal smiled. "Come and get some boy." He brandished Bitter , and the battle was joined.

* * *

Shalia barely moved, and the chain whip slapped against wall. She tucked and rolled coming up onto her knees. Ivenes manuvered himself in front of the stairs. "It's a shame that I have to kill you." The Zhentilar laughed. Shalia didn't return it. The ranger reacted lightning quick, and raced foward. The chainwhip snapped again, and wrapped about her leg. She went down and her body smacked hard against the floor. Blood trickled from her cut head. Ivenes was on her fast. His weight crushing the life out of her. She had used the same maneuver before, in the battle with goblins. Know she knew how it felt to be on the recieving end. The Wolf dropped his face close to her, and he licked his lips. "You are very pretty, and I've never had and elf maid before. You should do nicely. Show me the pleasures you showed the boy. Tell me who is better." He said as his tongue licked her face. She smelled of Cinamon. This aroused Ivenes, his manhood growing.

Shalia saw the fire in the man's eyes, and smiled, she had him!

"If I must die, then let me know what a real man is." She said, and her hand traveled down his leg towards his pants. Ivenes grinned, and felt her hand go down, and grab. This was going to be wonderful, he thought. He changed his mind. Shalia squeezed for all her worth and pulled hard. Ivenes squealed like a little girl and tilted over. Shalia was up, and swiflty she kicked with all her worth. Ivenes howled out in pain then doubled over.

"Bitch!" He cried and slowly rose, the chain-whip coming to bare.

"You see you lack something he boy has. He has honor you don't... and I rather give myself to him then be defiled by the likes of you." She said and rushed at him. Ivenes cracked the chainwhip, and struck. The chainwhip stabbed at her shoulder, but Shalia felt no pain as she dragged on. She had been hit in the same shoulder before. Shalia struck, and plunged her dagger ino his waiting heart, and in came the longsword slicing through tender flesh and bone. Ivenes could feel the dagger tare his heart, then the last thing he felt was Shalia's longsword destroy his lung. The Zhentilar dropped to his knees, and died. Shalia slowly tossed the body to the floor, and began to walk up the stairs. The pain in her arm stung like hell, but she knew that Alias needed her. Above she could hear the sounds of battle engaged.

Magical blades locked together, sparks flew about richocheting of the dark cobble walls of the keep.

Sweat beaded down Alias's head, as he and Narvendal traded blows. Narvendal was indeed a master blademan, quick and skilled were his strikes often keeping the younger man at a distance.

Alias ducked to the side and and swung. The two handed was blocked by the bastard sword. Narvendal smiled.

" They didn't train you well enough whelp, see your better before you." He said and his sword flashed. Alias barely had time to block the vertical slice. The Paladin kicked out and caught Narvendal in the midsection. The anti-Paladin doubled over and Alias took advantage.

"Torm!" Alias cried, and wrapped his arms around the bigger man. Narvendal never knew what hit him, as both warriors went flying. Alias had put much of his strength into the hold and kept pumping his legs. He didn't see the door, in front of him. Both crashed through the wooden door, with a resounding crack. The wood cried out and splintered in protest. The men fell onto a cold cobble stone floor. Alias rolled and had the wind knocked out of him. He saw Narvendal careen even farther down the floor, and skid like a stone, there he stood silent.

Alias moved over to the fallen anti-Paladin and gripped him by the throat. "The cure!" Alias snarled. Narvendal smiled weakly. "Kill me. That is the way."

"Yes, kill him, he has already played his part in this game." A man was stepping down from a large throne made of crushed velvet and black panels. With each step, his fine polished black shoes touched the cobblestone.

"I was wondering when you would arrive here to face me." Elgazar, the seven foot cleric of Cyric smiled. The man was an opposing sight. A giant by normal means, unlike any man Alias had see before. Alias could see the bulging muscles underneath the silken robes. Also slippping to and fro in the shadows of the robe, he could make out a wicked mace. The mace wa a ghastly thing shaped in the image of a beholder. Alias stood up and gazed at the new enemy that had entered the fray. This time he sensed greater evil, than Narvendal. The only time he had faced that great an evil was in his dream.

"Stand back." Alias called out, and dropped Narvendal.

" If you kill him the plague will be done. Strike Paladin let justice be served!" Elgazar voice, cracked the silence that had fallen.

"No, he will cure the people of Waterdeep, and stand trial for what he has done." Alias brought up his fathers enchanted blade.

Elgazar laughed hysterically. "Another fool. How like Johan, and the others that had come before you. They always believed in justice, honor,and glory. Look upon that wretch. And tell me what you see. I see nothing but a pawn. If you seek the real reason for that small gift, look unto me." Elgazar's face turned pale then took the sheen of red. "Look upon my face and despair, puny paladin.

"By Torm!" Alias stepped back as did, the battered Narvendal.

"What trickery is this." Narvendal cried.

The figure that had been Elgazar, slowly started to transform. The fine robes ripped in a dozen places. The man's face twisted in a grimace of pain, as horns sprouted from the tips of his forhead. Long dark fangs sprang out from blackened gums. Claws of the darkest black cracked and extended like daggers. The eyes of the creature, had turned scarlet red. Blood red.

The creature that was Elgazar, lept from the top of stairs and flipped in midair. At the same time wings made of ghastly sinew exploded forth from the creatures back in a sprey of gore and blood. Alias fell back and as did Narvendal.

"You tricked me... you bastard.. you promised me glory and honor." Narvendal cried and ran toward, the seven foot tall, hulking beast.

Elgazar sniffed the air and his voice shook the pillars. "I promised you and your god nothing. Both are nothing to the like of Shadlokin the Dream Ravager. The plague has fueled me beyond belief. I have the power of all those dead nightmares." Shadlokin cried and hefted the great mace.

The eye of the beholder mace, opened, and all nine stalks, turned on Narvendal. Narvendal ran, and cried out. The beholder mace shrieked out a aweful wail, and twin beams of light blasted out the things head. Alias ducked, and tucked his head.

Narvendal screamed, his wails of anguish ripping through the great hall. His flesh burned, melted underneath the death beams. Power and glory were no longer his to vie for, as his body was turned to dust. Alias seeing this moved quckly and picked up his blade; Windbiter glowed red hot . He could see the creature known as Shadlokin, stomp toward him, just like the dream.

"This Is glorious!" the creature wailed, " Finally I will destroy you, and the last of your line will be forever extinguished."

Alias saw his doom in that beast, and raised his sword in defense. The paladin began to walk foward and chant to Torm. If he was to die he would go in his god's honor.

Shadlokin smiled, fangs covered with drool waited. Paying attention to Alias he didn't see Shalia behind him.

vThe elf ranger jumped on the back of the beast and plunged her dagger home . Shadlokin wailed. He began to flail, and Shalia held on for dear life. Great scaly claw gripped the gamly elf and hoisted her up, and over. Shadlokin gazed at the elf and smiled. He hated elves. He then bit down on her already wounded shoulder. Shalia screamed. She had never face agony like this. Alias yelled with her and ran at Shadlokin Windbiter out.

Shadlokin fangs did their work, and continued to rend Shalia's shoulder apart. Already part of her breast bone was exposed. Shalia grunted and fought back the pain. She kicked out and caught Shadlokin in gut. This made no difference, the monster grip grew tighter, and her life was spilling out before her in red rivulets.

Alias ran foward and stabbed. Windbiter tore through flesh and bone. Alias grunted as he saw his blade strike true. Then in pain he doubled over. He looked down to see his own blade explode from stomach. Alias couldn't believe what had just happened. Slowly the room had disappeared. Shalia was gone as well. He found himself lying on a floor covered with gray mist.

"Fool you don't even know what power is." Shadlokin smiled. "See... I control reality here." He pointed to the image. "Do you see, your friend relives her nightmare, over and over. Her fear of being devoured by a creature of her own make is unimaginable. You your worst nightmare is failing. How does that saying go... falling upon your own sword. You humans amaze me. I will use your own dreams to crush you both." the evil creature yelled. Alias looked down and saw his life spelling out his own sword gleaming from his chest.

Death was approaching fast, as Shadlokin walked forward. Alias had to do something, but what was it. He thought back to the creature words. I will use you own dream to crush you. Your own dreams! That was it! This whole thing was a nightmare, a dream. A dream that could be controlled if he had faith in himself and in his God.

This had all been about faith, everything until this moment had been about his faith... and how much he could muster.

Looking toward Shalia, he found himself out of the mist, back in the chamber. The elf was on the floor shaking, but nothing had happened to her. Alias was on his knees and no sword was coming from his stomach. The magical twohanded sword was beside him.

Also beside him was Narvendal's body turned ash. Torm guide my hand, I have found the way, he said picking up Windbiter The blade hummed in his hand.

Shadlokin looked on puzzled as the paladin stood up. He was no longer entranced by the Nightbane spell. The creature reared up and cried out.

"So be it puny flesh. We end this now." The beast bellowed and hefted the beholder mace. Alias grunted and closed his eyes. He would follow the sound of the creature.

Both beast and paladin ran at each other. Shadlokin swung down with in a bone crunching arc, and Alias parried. The mace and sword exploded with magical fury and sent the young warrior to his backside.

Shadlokin was singed, its skin burnt and charred by the mystical energy of the weapons. The creature rushed in and bared claws of black. The beast leapt into the air, and its mighty wings beat fast. Alias picked up the shattered Windbiter, just as Shadlokin slammed into the Paladin. At the same time Alias struck.

"For Donvan! For Torm!" He cried as the shattered sword plunged deep into the chest cavity of Shadlokin. The creature yelled. Shadlokin flailed in its death throes. Alias could not believe its strength,stabbing further.

Windbiter last of the fabled magical blade of Lyoness flared with the last of its mystical life. The blade sucked upon the aspect of Shadlokin, as it was forged to do. This part of the dream demon would be snuffed out fom this plane of reality. Windbiter, sword of the Windswept family had done its job. Its destiny was over. The blade finally died.

Shadlokin turned to mist as the last magics of the twohanded sword ate at it. As the creature died, the blades magical light winked out.

Alias looked at the sword and sighed. Good bye old friend, He thought and turned to see Shalia shaking on the floor. He quickly moved over to her side and gathered her in his arms. " Brave elfmaid, don't die on me." Alias wept . The tears fell on Shalia lips, and her tongue slowy tasted the salty necter.

Her eyes flicked open and her smile made his heart jump.

"Hey city boy. You did it, and I didn't have to save your butt this time." Shalia caughed.

"I hate when you do that." He told her and brushed her red curly lockes from her face.

"Come we can rest on the trip back to Waterdeep." He said as he layed hands on her shoulder. The healing had cured most of the wounds; but those caused by the dream would never heal. Alias seeing she was better, gathered up his pouch and slowly gathered the dust that was once Narvendal. Shalia walked over to him. "The cure?" She asked.

"Yes, the cure." he said as he gathered her hand and they began their long trip home.

* * *

The trip back home to Grodel was a quite one. Alias and Shalia rode in slowly and saw that the town was on the mend since the battle with the goblins. When seeing the elf maid wounded, the people rushed to her aid, and helped to ease her hurts. Alias stayed with Shalia all through the night. He held her soft hands and preyed to Torm for her life, and applied the best healing he could.

After a two days, Shalia was up, and as spry as ever. Turning to Alias who sat next to her, she smiled. She hoisted up her gear, and nudged him against the arm.

"Come on one eye. If we don't get to Waterdeep, there might not be a Waterdeep to get back to. " She grinned and slowly walked out of one of the villager's house. The sun was just breaking towards the east. Alias yawned, and grabbed his gear.

"Are you all right?" He asked hesitantly.

"As good as I'm ever going to be. Come on." She smiled and winked. Alias returned her smile, and the two were of toward a bright new day.

Waterdeep city of Splendor, home to more that two million people, had gone through much those five days. Soldiers had cleared outmost of the undead mostly ghouls, some skeletons. All the holy temples had been hit bad. Especially the temple of Torm.

Donvan sighed as he looked into the bright sun that had come out today. All of the brothers of Torm had been killed, and only he was left. Many still died from the plague, and no new monster would rise. The High Cleric of Torm sighed.

"What of the man you sent." Khelban Blackstaff, mage extrodinare asked.

"Perhaps dead, I know not. We are doomed." Donvan said head down.

A man with a gray cloak, smoked a pipe that smelled of Cinamon and herb. "I think not, Look ye yonder." the old man said. Elminster of Shadowdale, pointed toward two riders entering he court yard. Donvan turned, and with a smile, he ran over to the riders.

"Alias!" He couldn't believe his eyes. "You made it."

Alias returned his friend smile and hoisted a small pouch.

"You have it?" Donvan smiled.

"I have It!" Alias beamed.

"We have it." Shalia grinned, elbowing Alias in the ribs. Donvan tossed the bag over to Elminster. "Thank ye lad. Now we can get to work, come Khelban." Elminster said and with a wave of his hand and a shimmering portal of blue, both were gone.

"Narvendal?" Donvan asked.

"Dead." Alias looked to the sky.

"And where did you find her?"

"That's a long story." Alias, smiled and winked his good eye. "Hey!" Shalia said grabbing his hand. Donvan smiled. "Come we can talk inside, I see you have changed much," He pointed to his left eye. "Lets go."

Donvan, Alias, and Shalia walked in to the temple of Torm, and into a new beginging. The sun rays brightened the skies of Waterdeep the city of splendor , and all was good.

For the time being, the skies cleared, and the plague was no more. On the soft wind could be heard the laugh of Shadlokin the dream ravager.

THE END

Ozzie Padilla