Bhaal Demands- Part 1

Viconia's return from the Lord of Murder's palace had left several nagging questions burning in the back of her mind. The biggest was the look he had given her. He had never seemed so weak, even when he was just a lowly human.
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The Flaming Fist mercenary had her cornered. While Viconia was hardly new to the surface, she still had trouble operating with the sun glaring in her eyes. Dodging from shadow to shadow, the sun‘s rays had limited her options down to her speed, and that was barely enough. Especially since the mercenary hadn’t drawn his sword yet and seemed more focused on subduing her, which left a sense of dread hanging over the cornered drow.

“Come on ya hellspawn, yawl’s kind are supposed to be goers”, the burly Flaming Fist then lunged at Viconia. Shifting her weight slightly, she let out a silent oath to Shar as Viconia prepared to go on the offensive. Since the man seemed more interested in pinning Viconia and less on killing her Viconia knew she had an increased room for error. Not that the drow needed it as her foot caught the lunging man under the chin, knocking him back. Viconia dipped low and began ruffling through her travel pack. She came upon what she was looking for, a hammer used to put stakes in the ground to hold up her tent. It wasn’t her weapon of choice, but the lusting mercenary had come upon her so fast that she hadn’t the time to properly arm herself, let alone get dressed.

So as the mercenary recovered, she stood at the ready with hammer raised high. In that instant her nude form caught the Flaming Fist mercenary in a trance. Still wet from the bath she had been taking, her hair clung to her body. The beauty of it stilled the man as he faced certain death.

A merciless blow embedded the hammer into the skull. A spray of blood erupted and covered Viconia. Letting go of the hammer, Viconia couldn’t help but laugh. All that effort of getting clean, accidentally earning the unwanted attention of the passer-by, and getting blood all over herself when having to defend herself from the unwanted advance. All of this and she was right back where she started, maybe even in a worse place. Now she wasn’t covered with grim from the road, she was covered with a man’s brains. The laugh proved to be ill advised as Viconia turned around to discover a patrol of Flaming Fists standing in shock and abject horror.

Viconia wasn’t frozen by such shock. She seized upon a chance and began a mad dash away from what had been her campsite. All that was going through her head was the need to reach the spot she had been bathing, there she could arm herself for what was a guaranteed eventful evening. The spot was only a short distance from her camp, but it felt like eternity. It would take one arrow to end her right there.

Luck was on her side as no arrows were fired till Viconia was well away. She didn’t even bother to equip herself or even get dressed, seeing as the single patrol had exploded into three score Flaming Fists combing the country side.

It wasn’t till later, still nude and equipment bundled up in her arms, did Viconia stop to rest and get dressed. Viconia would have been ashamed of her flight from a group of lowly males if not for the fact that she was more focused on escaping the army of zealous soldiers who, from the overheard communications, seemed to think an army of the Drow was marching on Baldur’s Gate and that Viconia was merely an advanced scout. The notion sent Viconia into a fit of nervous, silent laughter as she considered herself. A lone drow, brought in by the temple of Shar, trained to be a priestess, and feared by many as vile monster that was about to bring an army of drow on some hillbillies and their stinking shit hole. Not that any of their stupidity would matter if she could not escape the region in one piece.

She had been heading south from Waterdeep, a most foul human city where she had been trained in the secret temple of Shar. She remembered how she hadn’t been the only dark elf their. Two others, a male and a female, had been there. Apparently they had fled Chad Nessar. Not that any of it really mattered. She would never reach Athkatla and the temple of Shar held there. Not alone. How she wished now that she hadn’t smothered the nagging old crone sent to watch over her as she headed out on her pilgrimage. Now she was sorry of luring the two other drow into a gnoll ambush. How she wished she hadn’t stabbed the guide with a poisoned dagger for looking lustfully at her. At least not she had reached Amn at least.

Oh well, Viconia thought, no sense crying over spilled milk. Here she was, being hunted like an animal, no point sitting around and making herself a better target. Wiping the dust from her rear as she rose from her sheltered hiding place, the setting sun took away the last edge anyone of the mercenaries might have in a one-on-one match up. So as long as the night held, Viconia could travel in relative safety. Let them try to catch this animal in her native habitat.
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Viconia roused herself from the memory. She was safe in her well-warded tent just outside the construction site, but still snapping in and out of reality was not a position a high-ranking priestess could afford. It was getting worse too. At first only small memories would barrage her. Short memories about rituals back home or of some sexual conquest. Now they were getting longer and longer, luckily she was starting to get good forcing her mind to focus on the real world from within the memory, but only for long enough to see her into a secure place to allow the vision to continue.

She had asked the Lord of Murder to heal the mental hemorrhage that he no doubt started with his probing of her mind for secrets. He seemed to grow distant at the mention of his activities in her mind. All he would saw is that it had to do with her wish for revenge on those cast her out and then promptly change the subject back to the matter of his temple.

Viconia lay back in her bed and prepared to sleep, knowing full well that the memory would go till some unknown force felt it was complete.