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he weather was surprisingly terrible. It has been raining for a couple of days now judging from the few centimeters of water covering most of the paved roads. The upper city looked almost deserted, even in the middle of the day (which was rather unusual) save for the many windows with lights coming out from behind them.
“Typical that I have to leave the temple on a day like this…”-he thought to himself, as he walked briskly, water already making his expensive boots damp on the inside. The Dark Urge- that's what he called himself. He was tall but elf-like. He scratched his throat, his beard freshly shaven from the spot. A child of Bhaal shouldn’t ever be ashamed of his appearance, he reminded himself, but still, he was rather anxious to show up in a place like this. He rarely went to the upper city, and only did so on business so to say, so to have a sit down and a friendly chat with a rather rich noble was out of the ordinary for him. Sure he met plenty of nobles, recruited plenty of them himself, but he was not exactly at ease around them. What bothered him most about these so called nobles was how they always thought they were better than everyone else. Don’t they know that they live to die? If you cut them up they just look like any peasant or beggar. Meat is meat no matter how many expensive clothes and jewels it wears.
He chose to dress better than he usually did when he left his home. His trusty boots were the same he usually wore- very well made from tough leather but with soft soles, so his steps were quiet. It was full black- as it was customary for Bhaal’s assassins to dress in all black- with matte silver metal covering the toes for additional protection. He learned quickly, that while on the job it was always very important to have the correct footwear- it is very embarrassing for a murderer to slip on a pool of blood or yelp when he steps on a wayward rock or somesuch. He wore a heavy dark green cloak- in a color which he noticed was especially popular this season among the merchants. He figured the color would make him stand out less, and it offered some protection against the terrible rain. It was rather simple, but from good material. He did not want to appear like he was very rich, the story he came up with in case any guard questions his presence was that he is simply discussing some trade deal with a rich patron. And for the story to fly he needed to look the part. Under the cloak, instead of his usual enchanted robes -black and dark brown of course- he loose pants tucked into his boots and a decorated form-fitting shirt that ended just under his hips. The shirt was sewn in a way to draw attention to his hips- or rather create the illusion that he had slimmer hips than he did. It was dark blue, with a tall neckline reaching a centimeter under his chin and long sleeves- to hide all his tattoos and to give his body a bit of a different shape, so it's harder to identify him without seeing his face. He rarely showed his face while working, so he felt no fear showing it now. He contemplated shaving off his beard, but he hated the scratchy feeling of growing his one beard out, and he found trifling things like shaving and maintaining his facial hair a waste of time, so the beard stayed. He also took out his usual earrings, and did not darken his fingernails like he usually did. He was as unrecognizable as he could get without casting a spell. The only thing really setting him apart from anybody else was the thick red cloth fastened around his waist- to let other potential assassins know who he was.
As he quickly walked towards the upper-class inn his negotiation partner suggested, a woman hurrying home from somewhere, surrounded by a few servants slipped on the wet road, and fell to her knee. As the spawn of Bhaal watched it happen, he flinched and felt a faint phantom pain in his own knee for a moment. Then the image crossed his mind, what if she fell harder and broke the bone? The patella could easily have shattered. Such a small bone would have a hard time piercing her skin. A shame, he thought, walking away, while the woman screeched at her servants who tried very hard to pick her up from the ground and reassure her at the same time. Soon he reached the tavern. Three Old Kegs once used to be a place visited by everyone, but lately because of its location perhaps, it was mostly rich patrons enjoying the place. He felt a little nervous entering it, but he quickly quieted the feeling. Bhaal’s favorite son had nothing in the world to worry about after all.
An attendant quickly took his wet cloak.
“I’m looking for Enver Gortash.”- The Dark Urge said with a friendly smile. There was no reason to appear intimidating in front of this girl, and a merchant would not act that way in the first place either. She quickly pointed him towards a desk and told him to wait, since Gortash did not show up yet. He was making the Bhaalist church wait then- he briefly thought before sitting down and ordering a cup of ale for himself. He did not exactly have a table- it was a booth, with leather seats and elaborate wooden carvings on the legs of the table and the frames of the seats. To ensure privacy, they even had two thick red curtains installed, with some silver embroidery of flowers and other “naturalistic” patterns. This position gave him very little vision of the rest of the inn, but it was secure and protected- a perfect place to talk quietly about things one would rather not admit to in public. It was also rather cramped, so any sudden movement would be awkward. If he would get attacked here (perhaps from behind the drawn curtains) he would have to rely more on his magic. His unreliable magic. He absentmindedly ran his hand up his own right arm, covered in tattoos under his shirt. He got them many years ago, to try to control the chaos his magic usually caused. They worked most of the time, but not as well as he had hoped.
He tried to get a better look at the other patrons- he only could see a part of the bar, and two tables. One of them had a large group of people sitting around it, all dressed exquisitely. They were loud, but not drunk. All young too, and mostly humans. On the other side of the building next to the wall, there was a single man leaning on the wall, keeping an eye on them. A dwarf, but he was standing a bit too far and was a bit too short for the Bhaalspawn to get a good look. He did not even give him as much as a glance though, so whatever business he had, it was with the loud group, and possibly not important for why he was here. The other table was closer to the wall, and much smaller. There was a single man sitting there, perhaps a half-elf. He was facing away from The Dark Urge, resting on his elbows heavily. There were many empty mugs in front of him. From the slight tremble of his shoulders, he was clearly upset, or already crying. Not a threat then. The bar was mostly empty- it was still quite early in the day for most people, even for the rich and the idle. An attack from this group of people at least was unlikely then, or the sobbing man was the best actor-assassin in all of Baldur’s gate- but he would already know about such a man living here. Of course there always could be something bigger, like a fireball hitting the entire booth, or somebody breaking down the wall- but he did not think the Baneites would want that kind of attention just to kill him. He softly touched the unassuming gold band on his finger- enchanted with a “Dimension Door” spell that would get him out of trouble quickly to calm himself.
A few minutes passed and Gortash showed up. He gave the Bhaalist a disarming smile. He was freshly shaven, like he was the first time they met, and looked just as tired, though it was the middle of the day. His unruly hair looked like a fashion choice rather than a mark of carelessness, and it shone with some kind of oil, probably used to keep it in shape. Despite the rain outside neither his hair nor his clothes were even a little bit wet. His clothes were pristine- he wore a black coat with red patterns on it, with a silk upper layer that gave the whole garment a similar shine to his hair. Underneath he wore a rather simple shirt, with a low neckline that showed off his collarbones and some of his chest hair. Interesting choice. As he sat down he placed one of his hands on the table. His fingernails were clean and short.
“I see you were on time,” -Gortash started, his tone cordial- “ and I hope you did not have to wait for long.” His smile did not quite reach his eyes. As he sat down, the Bhaalspawn noticed a new person sitting down at the bar. They looked his way for a second, with a sharp look in their eyes. One of Gortash’ people perhaps. So he was not yet trusting enough to come alone. A pity, but understandable. Perhaps this is why he chose this cramped little cabin, so the Bhaalspawn has no quick way to launch an attack. There was so little space that his knees touched Gortash’ almost constantly, but if the other man was bothered by it at all, he did not let it show.
“It wasn’t too bad. Just a few minutes.”- the Bhaalspawn returned the smile, in that same deliberately fake-looking way. Gortash scanned his face with interest- that's when he remembered that every time they met before this, he never saw his face. Gortash smirked, but only for half a second, and then returned to the same polite expression he wore.
“We should order something to eat first. It is customary to start a business negotiation with a hearty meal, don't you agree?” -Gortash started, waving for a waiter. The claw-like ring he wore drew the Bhaalspawn’s attention for a split second. But then his worry came back. He had no idea if it was customary or not. Should he be the one who makes the order, or should he let Gortash handle it? Did Gortash hire the cook- The Dark Urge knew that he was already rich, surely rich enough to buy some tavern cook, and was trying to poison him? He brushed those thoughts aside for now and just gave a smile and a nod. “An excellent idea.”
The waiter came quickly, and Gortash started ordering immediately. Salmon roast with garlic sauce and potatoes. Without asking him what he would want, or letting him look at the selection, Gortash told the waiter that “his friend” would like the same.
“Is that alright sir?”-the waiter asked him.
“Oh yes. My friend is here all the way from Waterdeep and he would like to see how our Baldurian fishes compare to the ones at home.” -Gortash shot him a piercing glance. So he too had a story in mind for this meeting. This was vague enough for The Dark Urge to work with.
“As he says. It’s been a long road too so I’m excited to get some warm food.” -for emphasis, he reached down and started gently rubbing his thighs”- I did not have time to eat at the inn I'm staying at, you see. With this terrible weather I was almost late!. “he gave the waiter a wide smile, which the man returned almost involuntarily. “If you could ask the cook to make it extra good for me I would appreciate it.” -he added with a wink. Gortash raised an eyebrow at him across the table, but then flashed an easy smile at the leaving waiter. He otherwise did not comment on the performance, but looked pleased. Perhaps it was a test. The Dark Urge smirked.
Soon the waiter returned with some napkins, cups of water and cutlery. The Bhaalspawn looked down on the table and with drawing horror, realized that he did not recognize most of these implements. He usually ate with his hands, or only using a knife. He saw forks before. He knew how to hold them. But some of the forks were slightly different, with bigger or smaller tines. There was probably some sort of rule on how to use each one of them and for what. He hoped his shock was not as apparent on his face as he felt it, and raised his eyes to Gortash. The man was just staring right at him, with an intense dark gaze, resting his chin on his hands. The Bhaalspawn glanced around, but nobody really paid much attention to them- except for the man at the bar, but his posture was relaxed.
“So, why am I here?”- he asked, his voice softer than his natural tone. “It must be something important, if you wanted me to come out all the way here, in all of my glory.” - he theatrically opened his arms, as much as the space allowed.
“Oh we will get to that.”- Gortash glanced at the mug of ale the Bhaalspawn ordered, still untouched, and took a sip of his own water. “But first, tell me: is the place to your liking?”
“Well…”-The Dark Urge started, taking a small sip of the ale. It was decent, but a bit too hard for his liking. If he wanted to keep his senses sharp, it would be best not to finish the whole thing. “The space is a bit cramped”- to illustrate the point, he purposefully pushed his knee at Gortash’s inner thigh, making the man’s shoulders stiffen for a second- “otherwise it's easily defendable I suppose. And offers plenty of privacy.”- he smiled. Gortash gave him a satisfied nod.
“And what about the decor?”- Gortash ran his hand over the curtain softly- “I quite like it myself. I quite like how frivolous everything here is. This is how the cream of the city should dine- as if none of them ever will experience a moment of hardship.” -his dark eyes flicked to the Bhaalspawn’s. “Of course, if our plans come to fruition that will no longer be true, but let them enjoy it.”- Gortash smirked.
“Oh yes, your oh so glorious plans. It would be easy to grab a weapon” -the Bhaalspawn gently touched the dinner knife laid on the table- “and run through a few of those party guests. In the chaos perhaps a few of them would be trampled- my guess is on the sad-sack sitting right over there- “he quickly glanced at the man. “But do not worry. I would leave your friend at the bar alone. As a token of friendship.” - he winked at Gortash.
“Very sweet of you.”- he returned it with a smile, as the waiter brought them their food.
The challenge of the cutlery could no longer be avoided then. The Bhaalspawn glanced at Gortash, who patiently waited on him to make the first move. The food looked… Well made? The aroma was fishy and food-like. The slight steam indicated that the meal was hot. The potatoes looked soft under the meat, which was soft pink. Well made. He was absolutely certain that after a few bites it would make him get sick. While in the temple, The Dark Urge mostly ate bread (usually already dry, sometimes even moldy) and raw meat (usually freshly cut from his victims). He was lean, with his ribs poking out from under his skin, but he ate enough to do his job, so he did not care. He knew from experience however, that such a diet completely ruined his digestive system, so eating something this succulent, full of vegetables and fat would surely make him throw up. On top of that, he couldn’t even remember the last time he ate fish, or used any type of cutlery. If he started eating only using his hand and threw up everywhere a few minutes after that surely would ruin whatever standing the church of Bhaal was starting to gain within this alliance.
Then, he considered the forks. He reached for one and glanced at Gortash, but the man was just looking at him intently. The Bhaalspawn no longer cared. If not knowing proper table manners is going to ruin this alliance he could always kick the Banite in the groin and slam his head on the table. With a smile on his face he randomly reached for a fork and stabbed it into his fish. Gortash picked up the exact same fork after a glance that almost looked nervous. He did not know either then, The Dark Urge realized as he bit into the tiny piece of fish.
The flavor was… intense. He recalled a vague memory of eating salmon as a child, in some small home somewhere far away in time, but he quickly moved on from that thought. Chewing the meat was easy, much easier than the wet and warm living flesh he was used to. It almost melted in his mouth. He allowed himself another quick bite before turning his attention back to Gortash. The man was completely focused on his meal, enthusiastically shoveling it into his mouth, like he was starved for food, though the child of Bhaal doubted that was true. The man looked at ease in his surroundings. Seemingly not keeping his eye out on anything but his meal (and of course, his conversation partner). That was probably why he did not come alone, so others can ensure his safety, while he can focus on his own dealings in peace. Made sense then, that he was Bane’s little lapdog. Of course whatever bond he had with the Tyrant was not as profound as The Dark Urge had with his father. He was pulled out of his own musings by Gortash yanking the curtains of their little booth together.
“So… as I was saying I believe our orders could work well together. I do hope that you will treat our previous… operation as a sign that we are both trustworthy, and hold your best interest at heart.” -he sounded like a businessman advertising his newest toy, but the Bhaalspawn let it pass. Gortash spent a lot of time and possibly resources to not only make their heist happen and retrieve the torture racks, but also he was persistent enough to get the leader of the Bhaalist cult to talk to him personally. And now in private too. The Dark Urge haven’t talked to anybody outside of the cult for a very long time, not like this. As equals and conspirators.
“Yes, yes. You have nothing to fear from our knives, little tyrant.”-he added with a whisper and a smile, but it did not faze Gortash at all. He just put a rather large heaping of food into his mouth and chewed on it quickly.
“I have a grand plan, you see. And you-”- he poked his clean fork towards the Bhaalspawn-” and your order is essential to this plan. Before I tell you all though, I want you to swear. Swear that you will not betray our trust, and will remain an ally while we follow this plan to completion.”- Gortash looked at him intently.
“I will need more details first. Bhaal and Bane have been allies and foes both in the past after all. And while I do not doubt your trustworthiness, I have to know some details about what you would like to do.” He was mostly worried that the cult of Bane would do what all tyrants ought to do and dominate over the Bhaalists. He would not let that happen of course. He knew what his father expected of him, and if this plan was in the way of that, then Gortash would not leave this booth alive. He hoped the other man knew this as well. Instead of answering him however, he was silent.
“You look like a kicked puppy every time you are worried, you know that?”- The Dark Urge only frowned at him. “There is no reason for that, trust me. You live to kill. And my plan involves plenty of killing. Besides, I did not come up with it alone, Lord Bane himself has been involved.”-Gortash was smirking again, but no longer directly looking at the Bhaalspawn, like he was lost in a pleasant memory. The Dark Urge did not like that at all. To work together with the agents of another god closely would surely reflect badly on his own ambitions. But having competent allies could lead to greater destruction. There was also something akin to a jealous spark in his heart. Bane really talked to this man? This petty weapons dealer? Either there was more to him that meets the eye, or Bane was very short on servants. Or maybe Bane’s standards were simply not as high as Bhaal’s who rarely deigned to talk to his own son. Or perhaps Bhaal knew that his Dark Urge would do what is expected of him with only the Butler’s guidance. That must have been it surely.
“Fine.”- the Bhaalspawn replied finally. “I swear you have our full support. Now tell me what this is all about.” - he placed down his fork, indicating that he was done with the meal. Gortash noticed his lack of appetite too, but chose not to comment on it. He just extended his hand, and the Bhaalspawn shook it.
“There is no reason for grand oaths, not just yet. But I hope you know that the whole of our church is watching yours, as I am sure yours is doing the same to us.” His handshake was firm. Very firm, almost as if he attempted to crush his hand, but the Dark Urge returned the squeeze, not tight enough to truly hurt. They held each other’s hands like that for a few moments, as tightly as they could without the pretense of the handshake breaking, then they both let go quickly.
“When I was in the hells, I learned of a powerful artifact that currently is in the possession of the Archdevil Mephistopheles.”- Gortash started. So he went to the hells- The Dark Urge thought. Probably not to “visit” his divine patron though- while Bane was in the periphery of the hells, his realm was not within that plane. Why would somebody like Gortash be to the hells then? This really piqued the Bhaalspawn’s interest, but perhaps this will not be a question that Gortash is willing to answer just yet.
“It is the Crown of Karsus.” -The Dark Urge was familiar with it.
“You want to replicate Karsus’s folly then?”- he said with a flat voice. Quite a disappointing plan if this is what Gortash could come up with.
“What? Of course not. I’m not a fool. It is simply a very powerful artifact. And we can use it to… let's say… bind something powerful to our will.”
“Something powerful? Like what?”
“Well, I was thinking we could bind an Elder Brain.” Elder Brains were the masters of Illithid hiveminds. They were dangerous for sure, but the Bhaalspawn was still not sure where Gortash was going with this. “Using the crown we could enslave an Elder Brain, make it heed our commands, and then we could use its telepathic powers. We could command an army. Or create a brand new cult that will do our bidding.” Gortash’s eyes were gleaming. So far this plan seemed like a typical Baneite plot. all about domination and whatnot, but it was far from Bhaal’s plans. The Dark Urge’s disapproval was probably visible on his face, because Gortash quickly continued.
“I don’t know all the details yet. But I do know the location of an Elder Brain, rather close by. Under Moonrise Tower. And My Lord Bane encouraged me to reach out to it’s unfortunate owner.” Moonrise Tower was a vaguely familiar name. There was a great battle there, but the Bhaalspawn forgot most of the details. Whatever happened there wasn’t exactly relevant for the church of Bhaal, even though one of the people his father marked as an enemy fought there. The Dark Urge couldn’t exactly recall whether or not she was killed. Gortash simply continued.
“Once we establish contact, we can study the Illithid. Find a way to subjugate and kill them. And then, use that Elder Brain to our goals. Maybe we could dominate the world. Bring unseen destruction. Don’t you see how our goals align? What was that doctrine you said again?”
“Death in numbers. Death in droves.”- he interrupted Gortash, his voice strong and firm.
“Yes. Exactly. You shall have it. You will have an army to kill as much as you would like. As long as we can work together of course.” -Gortash added with a smile. He was watching the Bhaalspawn intently. This plan still had many holes in it. Contacting whoever was living in that tower. The Dark Urge has been dreaming of bones lately, and heard his father whispering about Myrkul, so he deduced it must be a necromancer living in that tower. Then, stealing a relic from the hells. And dealing with an entire Illithid colony? It was a lot of steps, but the Bhaalspawn knew his father had some greater plan here. He only had to trust his guidance, and eventually it would lead to blood. Blood that is his to spill.
“I see. It is quite an ambitious plan though. Even accomplishing one of the things you want would be a miracle, but all of them? It will be quite a challenge…”
“You must not be used to showing your face too much my friend. You can’t really control it well.”- Gortash smiled at him, and it almost looked genuine. “I can see you are worried but as I said, just trust me. First, we need to get the Crown, the rest will become clear. My divine patron wills it and so do yours after all.”
“That much is true. But still we would need an entrance to the hells…”
“I already have a lead on that…” After that, Gortash continued to detail how he heard about a diabolist operating right in this city, who could help them, and how they can get the money for it. It seemed like Gortash had really thought this through, which was impressive.
“There is another thing…I’m sorry, but I don’t even know your name. Perhaps it would be easier to discuss these things, if I knew.” The Bhaalspawn just looked at him, confused. What would be the point?
“I already told you what my cultists call me. That’s all you need to know.”
“Do they really call you ‘The Dark Urge’? It’s not exactly a subtle name…”
“I have no use for any other name.”
“Well then… My dear… Dark Urge… I look forward to your cooperation. And I might have some work for you in the near future. There are some people who have been a thorn in my side. And perhaps somebody of your caliber can take care of that. Quickly and quietly.” He passed him a thin slip of paper, and without finishing the rest of his meal, he stood up, and walked away from the booth.
The Bhaalspawn took the parchment. There were a few names and addresses scribbled on it. He smiled- he could start on this today if he wanted. Some relaxing murder to end his day with. He rolled up the paper and slid it into his boot, and quickly left the building. He had no intention to pay for the meal, and if Gortash cared, he paid already. Of course, he could have killed him. He could kill every soul in Baldur’s Gate if he had enough time alone if he wanted. But to do it effectively, and as beautifully as possible, he needed help. And Gortash seemed to be quite the planner. Something big was clearly coming. He wrapped himself in his cloak, and walked away as the sun slowly started to set on the now clear sky.