Special, yes, special, aren't you? Ssh, don't fight it. You know what you need to do. Take up that knife, do what you do best. Easy as breathing. You'll feel better after.
You really can't help it, can you? These vile things you do... Don't you wonder why you're doing them? You must really have been an awful person before the crash... Perhaps it's better that you forgot about it. But you want to know, don't you?
At night, you dream of a dead world. Lakes of gall, pulsating heaps of expired flesh. You're the only living being. When the red sun burns out, you drive the last dagger through your heart.
Oh, don't look so scandalised. This is definitely not the first time you've done this. Alfira may have grown up to become the age's great songstress, but you - you can be the most prolific killer in the history of the Realms! It will be easy - you can do it in your sleep!
Oh, don't look so scandalised. This is definitely not the first time you've done this. Quil may have grown up to become the age's great songstress, but you - you can be the most prolific killer in the history of the Realms! It will be easy - you can do it in your sleep!
What a corpse Alfira left! Blood crusting thick and dark 'round the eyes like a rushed coat of stage make-up. A sigil lovingly painted in blood, as if the killer was hoping to get caught. What visionary could have done this?
What a corpse Quil left! Blood crusting thick and dark 'round the eyes like a rushed coat of stage make-up. A sigil lovingly painted in blood, as if the killer was hoping to get caught. What visionary could have done this?
Sceleritas Fel is a murderer's murderer. He will set you right. Don't worry, as I'm sure you can tell, you can't help but be a prodigy spree-killer. It's in your perfect nature. While you may have forgotten your past, you can't forget what you were best at! Just follow your Butler. You can trust him!
Well, that's embarrassing. Your Butler ended up getting the pleasure of killing the bard instead of you. Given your perfect instincts, this surely won't happen again. With the Butler here to guide you, nothing can go amiss.
You like to indulge those Urges of yours. Good. It doesn't matter that you have amnesia. The instincts in your body are kicking in, and you are behaving like your old sinner self again. The Dark Urge is back, back with bloody style.
It's been a rough tenday. Everything hurts, your headache is just getting worse, and the tadpole is a nuisance. It's hard to find the inspiration to lift your daggers for pleasure after a long day. But you're denying yourself the one outlet you have: murder! Nothing compares. Try it! After all, you're going to reap death upon the world sooner or later. Make it sooner!
Kill that sweet cleric!
Is-o-bel. Cleric of Selûne. Defender of Last Light. Died summer 1492 DR. Slap it on a headstone - doesn't it sound right? The Butler told you to kill her. The Butler knows what's best for you. He knows how to get your old life back. Isn't that all you want? To find out who you were, and get back to being that glorious old butcher?
You didn't intend to spare the cleric, did you? Surely not. You're just waiting for the perfect, tragic moment to strike. Build up her trust in you... Then let her fall. Yes, that must be your plan. Go back and kill her. Run along.
The Butler gave you another chance. Kill your darling. But you didn't - you spent the night tied up, playing out a farce as a wriggling, squirming slug. Humiliating. You can be so much more than that screaming heap. Come back to yourself.
The Butler gave you another chance. Kill your darling. But you didn't - you spent the night tied up, playing out a farce as a wriggling, squirming slug. Humiliating. You can be so much more than that. Come back to yourself.
Isobel is a corpse carried away on the wind. Last Light is desecrated. Such a sublime release of all your pent-up frustration. You did well, and this deed will not go without proper acknowledgement.
So, you killed your dearest. No one will ever love you now. Might as well take pleasure in being feared. You already enjoy fear. Deep down, you know you could have stopped your Urge last night. But it just felt too good - that last moment of fear. That final 'why?' That's who you are!
The Slayer now ravages your body. When it is dormant, you feel it champing at the bit. When it is summoned, you dissolve into the beast. It is an ancient symbol of hate. Hate well. You've earned it.
You had a vision divine. The truth is restored: you are a pureblood Spawn of Bhaal. The former head of his Temple. Return, and kill sister Orin who usurped your place. Return, and restore your birthright: to lead the cult of murder until all in this world dies by your hand.
YOU ARE BHAAL'S DREAD PROPHET, THE CHOSEN ORDAINED TO BE THE LAST LIVING BEING. WHEN ALL ELSE HAS BEEN REAPED BY YOUR HAND, THE FINAL DEATH IN THESE FOUL PLANES SHALL BE YOUR OWN. TAKE COMMAND OF THE ELDER BRAIN. TAKE COMMAND OF ITS POSSESSED ARMIES. SET THEM UPON SLAUGHTER OF USELESS FAERÛN, THEN UPON EVERY FRAIL LIFE IN THIS COSMOS. Congratulations, Dark Urge. You're a champion!
I escaped. The hold that Bhaal had over me is gone. All the voices in my head, and the rushes in my blood - I cured them at last! It's strange to think, but I can do whatever I want to. Be whoever I want to! I'm finally me. These thoughts won't talk to me any longer.
You believe that by disappointing Bhaal, you can escape him? You bear his unholy taint in your blood. After two hundred years, you are the only pureblood Bhaalspawn left. The Urge is going to eat you right up. Nothing will be left in your brain, but the will of Father dearest. Perhaps if you do what Bhaal would have wanted and follow through with the Absolute's plan to enslave the world, your mind might be spared his sickening lash.
Achievements
Embrace Your Urge
Become Bhaal's ultimate weapon - become his Slayer.
Sins of the Father
Claim your Throne of Blood: take control of the Netherbrain for Bhaal and break the world.
