[Muse]

1st of Tarsakh, 1372

Clank, clank, clank. The sound of full plate climbing stairs filled the candle-lit halls of the Tam estate. The Thayan Knight sighs, weary and ready for respite as he walked with purpose towards his chambers. He'd approach the entry to his wing, the door flanked at either side by a heavily armed skeleton. The pair of undead, mindless minions would bow their heads, but the Knight paid the frivolous and un-lifeful beings no mind as he simply wandered past them. As he pushed open the door to his chambers, he'd remove his helmet and let out a light sigh of comfort as he looked towards his bed. A rare smile crossed his face as he gazed upon his beloved deep in her slumber, yet not daring to disturb her rest. 

The Knight rested his helm atop his desk, pulling back his chair slowly and gently as to not disturb his wife, settling into it with a weary grunt. He'd sit there for a long moment, his chin in his gauntleted hand as he stared towards the miniscule collection of candles keeping his writing area somewhat viewable and the bed chamber itself from being plunged into the pitch black darkness. A puzzled look would cross his face as he sat deep in thought. Rarely does he have solitude, solace, time to reflect upon himself. What does he do now?

After a few long moments of deciding what he'll do with his fleeting spare-time, he'd procure a writing quill and a book full of blank pages. Opening the book up to the first page, the Knight dips his quill in a nearby ready ink well, wiping the side of the well jar with the quill gently to get rid of any excessive ink. He'd lean in, ready to write, yet pause once again and stare at the blank and empty page. A canvas there before him, with space a plenty to recount his many years of service, horrors, and adventures. A million different things to write about, yet the Knight still hesitates. Finally, he'd press the quill to the paper and begin his account....

"When I was but a boy, I wished to take my own life. I did not know how to live at all. Days were spent at the training grounds at my father's side, while nights were spent restlessly with thoughts running amuck within my mind. 'Why did my mother give her life to bring me into this world?' 'Why does my father treat me like a squire and not a son?' The questions rang endlessly throughout my ears, yet I knew only I could hear them. And I knew I could never find the answer to these questions. So, I tried it.. When I was the age of six, I walked out of Thralgard's main gate and stared over the cliffs of the second escarpment.. I've never felt more blank in all my life. Thus, I jumped. I tumbled down the cliffs of Thralgard Keep, my breathe leaving my lungs with every rock and ledge that I bounced off of. I closed my eyes, waiting for death to take me." 

The Knight took a deep breathe, steeling himself. He'd dip his quill once more, wiping off the excess ink and continuing...

"Yet, I survived. I laid there at the base of the cliffs, broken and bloodied, wondering if this was the true definition of agony. Hours passed until my father returned from a High Thay patrol on the High Road, coming across my weak and frail frame as I stared at the sky and awaited my demise. I remember being lifted up onto his back before I slipped into darkness. A sleep that I've never felt before and have not felt since took me.. I awoke in Bezantur, within the temple to the Watcher there, surrounded by dignified men with purpose and loyalty like none I had ever seen. They cheered as they watched my eyes slowly open, confusing me to no end. Why did they cheer? What was I to them? I was but a broken boy filled with melancholy, strife, and a lack of purpose. Yet, they cheered. And for the first time in my entire life, I felt the oddest sensation creeping across my mouth."

'What is happening? My mouth feels very odd.' "I asked them, confused as to what this odd sensation was overwhelming me.

'It's called a smile, young one.' "A smile. Such a word was foreign to me. Yet, I had not seen or endured near a quarter of what these men had gone through. Shame and regret built inside of me, and I wondered why I was so foolish to attempt such a thing like that. I found my purpose that day. The purpose that I have followed since and the purpose I shall follow until my last breath is taken. 

The Knight took another deep inhale through his nose, his pace of writing increasing. It was odd to open up to a piece of paper, yet, comforting.

"I had seen nothing yet.. Nothing could prepare me for the horrors I had yet to witness."

A loud knock would interrupt his solace, his head swinging towards his bed chamber door. A cold, calm voice would emerge from the other side of it.

"Your presence is required, Aethon."

The Knight stood immediately, leaving his newly broken-in memoir unfinished on the desk, his quill laying upon it. He'd don his helm, pinching the wick of the candles with his gauntleted hand to extinguish them. He'd swing the bed chamber door open and follow the voice swiftly, leaving his quill to bleed un-used ink upon his freshly written memoir. Duty calls, yet again.

[Muse]

24th of Uktar, 1373, following the events of "The Grand-Godson"...

The fire crackles in the cold, dimly lit corridors of the Tam Estate. The Knight sits alone by the fireplace, the affairs of the past forty-eight hours weighing heavily upon his mind. All is quiet amongst the Knight's wing of the estate, aside from the shambling of the undead "security" behind him. The Knight sighs, rather eager to embrace the rare moment of solace he has been given. He'd close his fist and rest his chin upon it, sticking his elbow to the armrest and sitting somewhat lazily. He'd hear the approach of slow and groaned shambling, looking up to the see a skeleton offering him a drink upon a silver tray. The Knight refuses, waving a hand dismissively without a word. 

He'd sit and ponder all that he has done since he's taken his oath. "Have I strayed from Helm's teachings? I carry out his edict's day-by-day, defending my oath and charge.. Yet, I feel strangely further from my faith." More questions than answers swirl about in his mind, before he'd hear the re-approach of the shambling. He'd let out a rather annoyed groan, standing up and whipping around in preparation to pointlessly berate an undead minion.

"I do -NOT- want any refr-" He'd quickly stop himself as he finally turned about, his eyes settling upon his Master, Szass Tam. He'd quickly lower himself into a respectful bow, bringing his torso down at the waist just as he has practiced many times before.

"M-Master.. Forgive my insolence, I had believed you to be one of the.. Well, you know." His hand waved about the corridor towards the undead shambling about, specifically the skeleton butlers that his Master makes use of about the Estate. 

Szass Tam would hold his hand out towards the empty chair of the two, offering a small but kind smile in response to the Knight's outburst.

"It is of no bother, Knight Tane. Do sit, I shall join you.. You seemed rather deep in thought." The Zulkir would walk over to the empty chair next to the Knight's own, and placed himself into it. The Knight hesitated, staring at his Master for a short moment. It had been sometime since he had last seen him, since Eltab's re-appearance and the foulplay of the Red Wizard, Naglatha.. The Knight knows of his Master's true nature. He knows of what he "really" is.. Yet, he sits himself next to his Zulkir nonetheless.

"You would be correct, Master.. I have carried out as you have ordered, though it did not come without unexpected difficulties." The Knight would motion towards the mantle of the fireplace they sat in front of, directing his Master's attention to a small bag sitting atop the mantle. The bottom of the bag sported a few deeply embedded stains of blood.

"Explain." The Zulkir stated, his gaze flickering from the bag to the Knight after giving a nod of approval once he had set his gaze upon the "item." 

"It would appear that Zulkir Thrul wished for Xavarri and the grandchild of Bane -alive-.. I informed him of your charge to me, and attempted to make a compromise.. A compromise that he surprisingly accepted. He wished for the mother alive, and we could dispose of the child as we saw fit. However, complications occurred, and Xavarri fell. A Red Wizard from the School of Illusion rendered her body un-raiseable with a fireball just as we were about to render aid. He has since blamed you and I for the "failure" of this task, I can only assume given I had to conduct "business" with him beforehand.. Therefore, I have banished from the Tharch of the Priador under penalty of death. Somewhat of a half-assed punishment, if you ask me.. I'd almost call that a reward." 

"Yes, yes.. It is a backwater tharch, isn't it?" The Zulkir let out a laugh from his seat, shaking his head a bit as he listened. A rather amused smile was glued to his face as he was brought up to speed. 

"Thrul also attempted to demand the mercenaries present swear an oath of allegiance and fealty towards you in any future conflicts against you.. An oath of allegiance that only few accepted, I hea-."

"You are aware it was a test, correct, Ser Tane?" The Zulkir would pipe up rather suddenly, interrupting the Knight in the midst of his report. The Knight turned to look at his Master, a clear look of surprise on his face. "Zulkir Thrul made his call one of bloodthirst and vengeance only for him to change his mind and request both of those individuals alive.. He was testing your loyalty, and the loyalty of all those attending." 

"I see.. I suppose I should have gathered as much, Master. In any case, Tharchion Mardikan has begun to mobilize the Priador legion.. Thrul specifically stated that he shall be giving you his 'special attention'. He is driven by passion and rage, but he is no fool, I suppose. It would seem he may wish to confront you.. What shall we do, Master?" The Knight would look up to Tam, his gaze glued to his Master as he seemed eager to learn what his next charge shall be.

"I fear that you may be correct, Ser Tane.. despite my best efforts to avoid it." The Zulkir would stand, making his way over to the fireplace. He'd grab the blood-stained bag, opening it up to peer inside for a moment before closing it once more. "Excellent.. I shall only hope this was worth all the trouble." He'd hold the bag out for a moment, with a rather longing stare.

"Truth be told, Master.. I am rather frustrated with this. This 'Evoker' seeks to divide Thay and our people when we have just made great progress in bringing peace and unity once more." The Knight began to speak tersely as he spoke, his gaze glued to the fire as a scowl crossed his face. Anger, disdain, resentment. He has committed his whole life to make Thay a safer land, yet Thay itself does not seem to wish to be safer.

"I understand your frustration, Knight Tane.. However, all goes according to plan. Should Thrul even attempt to drag this into a large-scale conflict, the tharchs of Gauros and Surthay shall come to our aid if the Priador attempts any foolishness.. I have earned their loyalty and favor. Nonetheless, that is why I have begun to make my preparations. If it is a confrontation that he wants, then a confrontation he shall get." The Wizard would hold a hand up as if to quell his Knight's frustrations, offering a tone of assurance as he spoke. 

"What of High Thay? I have heard nothing of Spiros and any efforts to aid in re-construction after the incident with Eltab.. What explanation has he for his absence and lack of leadership?" 

"We can count on High Thay and it's legion, of course.. Trust me, Ser Tane." The Zulkir would offer an un-prompted laugh, nodding a few times slowly as the Knight asked his questions. The Zulkir turned to look at his Knight directly, giving a knowing nod and smile of assurance. The Knight seemed ready to ask more, but he'd nod and silence himself, allowing his nerves to be quelled.

"You have done well in these past several months, Ser Tane.. You have brought to me the Crown of Myrkul, the head of the grandson of Bane.. Soon, my preparations shall be complete. All goes according to plan." The Zulkir would slip the bag from the mantle into one of his packs under his cloak, then turned to face his Knight one final time. "Rest and relax, Ser Tane.. Enjoy your time with your loved ones. It is hard to say what the next few months shall bring."

The Knight would stand and lower himself into a bow, saying his goodnights as his Master made his way to his upstairs bedchambers. However, the Knight lingered for a moment near the fireplace.. He'd then turn around, showing a look of clear confusion as he stared to the floor. Amongst the stone and tilt where his Master stood mere moments ago lied a circle.. A circle adorned with several magical runes. In the center lied a skull with it's mouth open agape, and a rose eclipsing out from the mouth of the skull. Such an arcanic circle was unfamiliar to the Knight, not near a laboratory or summoning chamber and out in the middle of his common wing corridor. The Knight nervously stepped into the circle, only to be enveloped in a rush of memories and fear flooding into his mind.

In that moment, the Knight stumbled.. He'd grab the end of the chair he just sat at moments before, holding himself up. A feeling he cannot explain, it would pass just as quickly as it came. The Knight felt as if something was completed.. a fate memory that was prophesized of him when he was very young. As the Knight steeled himself once more, he'd take a glance down only to see the arcanic circle amongst the floor gone. He'd bring his hand to his chest for a moment, in clear shock..

"Are you well, Ser Tane? You look as if you've just seen a ghost." The skeleton butler from before stared down at the Knight on the floor, the skeleton bringing his jaws together in a clacking motion that could only a resemble a laugh.

The Knight did not reply. He'd take a deep breathe and master himself, bringing himself to his feet once more. He'd ignore the skeleton, brushing some loose dust from his cloak before he'd drag himself to his bedchambers once more in hopes of relaxing his most troubled mind. 

[Muse]

Sometime during the first weeks of Tarsakh, 1374, before the Siege of Bezantur...

Day six. Six days since the Knight entered the depths of unknown alone. The words of his master, Regent Szass Tam, rang long like clockwork in his mind. 

"Rest now, Aethon. Cherish this time and enjoy your life, for I fear even with my preparations in place, nothing may stop what is to come." 

Step. Step. His boots hitting the ancient, decrepit floors echoed violently through the silence of the Citadel's halls. Much was on his mind. The Civil war drags on in his homeland, Thay slowly tearing each other in two bit-by-bit. Though, the Knight did not care. He was focused on the true evil that not only Thay, but all of Toril faces. Shothotugg, the World-Eater, has arrived. The beacon was not destroyed in time. The doom that the Herald of the Sarrukh worked so tirelessly to bring forth for the world is near. While it pained him to watch his country tear itself apart, it was of little consequence in comparison of the fate of all his world. 

As such, he descended alone... into the only place he could think of that might produce some sort of answers. He wonders if he made the correct choice informing no-one of his departure. The Citadel has claimed the lives of many powerful individuals. What if he falls? In the cold depths of the unknown, his body lost to time and rot? 

He'd shake his head vigorously, clearing his mind of such thoughts. Danger was at hand. He'd raise his torch, his sword in the other hand as he carefully treaded forward. He was in the depths of what appeared to be catacombs of some sort, the pitch black halls eerily silent. The Knight raised his torch, carefully peering over the walls as he walked. Pictures, images, depictions stretching for meters and meters. He'd look them over, but his vision blurred. He'd wipe his eyes, giving his cheek a light slap as if to wake himself from some grogginess. It was hard to sleep in such dangerous halls and feel at ease. He has gained little rest over the past six days. Nonetheless, he persists onwards... 

An oddity stops him in his tracks. The Knight glued his gaze straight ahead, raising his torch as he tilted his head in intrigue. Light was there. Shining small but evident as ever around the nearest corner of the hall. It had been three or four days since the Knight had last seen light of any form. The torches had ceased, the brief glimpses of daylight had ceased. He was deep in the cold depths of the earth. 

Hesitantly, he walked forward. He'd take in a rather hefty breathe, letting out a loud exhale as he cupped his hand near the torch. He'd extinguish it with every bit of air in his lungs, taking another deep breathe to finish the job before he'd stick the extinguished piece of wood in his pack for later use. He'd draw his shield, preparing himself for whatever. He'd pause just before the corner, the light growing brighter and brighter as he listened. The silence persisted. He'd steel himself, closing his eyes and sucking in some air into a deep inhale before he'd quickly jump around the corner, prepared to catch any possible enemies off-guard. 

Instead, he was greeted by a bridge. A narrow bridge across a chasm, leading to a magnificent chamber. Four large dragon statues stand facing each other in this chamber, all four with a ball of fire in their mouths illuminating the room. The Knight carefully crossed the bridge, approaching the statues and the chamber with caution. He'd look the architecture of the statues over with curiosity evident. What were such immaculate works doing here? They seemed pristine. Clean. Void of the age and rot that festers in these halls. The Knight took a moment to inspect the walls of the room, squinting his eyes a bit to see in such dim light. He'd freeze, seeing images of the Herald. The Sarrukh. What was this doing down here? 

PHWOOM!

The Knight jumped, turning around as a large sound erupted from the middle of the chamber. He'd ready his sword and shield, raising them both up as he stared ahead. A new source of light erupted in the room. A small ember formed in the center of the dragons and grew second by second into a circle, eventually growing and raising rings up and taking a color of yellow. A portal, clear as day. An invitation? Or a trap?

The Knight stepped forward. This place was unknown to him, as was this portal. He studied it, knowing full well he couldn't derive a source of any form. He peered up to the statues once more, looking around the chamber for the sign of any other life. He was not so sure he was alone now. Nonetheless, he re-focused his gaze on the portal and stepped forth into it, allowing the teleportation magic to swirl around him. He closed his eyes, though he knew he should not. For the first time in many, many years... He was afraid.

Seconds go by, seconds turn into minutes... Eventually, the sounds of silence became sounds of flapping. The Knight tilted his head and ripped his eyes open, prepared for whatever magical beast with wings or dragon would be there. Except, what he would see would astonish him.

He looked up first, only to be greeted with pitch black... There was no sky. No ceiling. 

Then, a book flew into his view. A book? He'd squint his eyes looking again, before his gaze finally leveled and he took in the area around him. He was surrounded by a circle of bookshelves that dwarfed him in height, spying ladders propped onto them that seemed to stretch up into the pitch black above. Books and tomes flew in the air like birds in flight, seemingly brought to life by some form of animation magic. His jaw dropped as he turned around, realizing he was on an elevated platform as his gaze finally averted downwards. Miles upon miles of bookshelves. Farther than the eye can see. There must be hundreds of thousands, if not millions of books here. 

The Knight slowly slid his blade into its respective scabbard, bringing his hands up to his head and removing his helm to tuck it underneath his armpit to carry. He wished to view this place un-obstructed, his eyes flitting about him in wonder and awe. Never in his life had he seen anything like this. His mind mixed with confusion, awe, and unease. He felt immediately... unworthy. Not fit to be here. 

"A visitor!" 

A sudden warm and kind voice erupted from behind the Knight. Aethon jumped in clear surprise, whipping his head around with his shield brought up into a combat-ready stance. Standing behind him would be a woman, a half-dragoness to be precise. She stands within but a foot or two of the Knight, seeming to have gotten to his rearguard quite handedly and with ease. She had a magic stave, brimming with magical energy in one hand. Her other hand was holding a tome that seemed far too big and heavy to be held one-handed. She wears robes of Red, and sports a large pair of red-dragon wings from her shoulder blade area, each wing stretching at least five feet long. Small red scales span up and down both of her arms. 

"Greetings! We've been expecting you!" 


((This is Part 1 of the finale to this thread. To be continued...))