It was shortly after a quick trip from Arabel to Suzail that I found myself suddenly caught up in using my skills to accomplish something, rather than simply trying to make enough money to eat well. I was sitting and eating with some of the other guards I'd traveled to Suzail with, in a small inn near the edge of town. As usual, I was sitting quietly, listening and paying attention without adding much to the conversation. Soon, however, a word from a nearby table caught my interest: "Salamander."

I immediately shifted my attention. I had not heard that word since I left Byzantur; immediately the Disciples of The Salamander came to mind, that cruel and sadistic cult of misery and death. They were worse than the clerical order of Kossuth. Not content to merely arrange for the probably death of rivals, they were fine with outright murder. Interested, I focused my attention on the other table.

It soon became apparent that this group - there were five of them - were talking about a cult holed up nearby that had been causing trouble. More a pack of brigands than a cult, they assaulted and murdered travelers on the highways and pillaged local farmsteads, killing the men and women alike, but not before raping the women in front of the men. Their connection to the Order of the Salamander was dubious, but I realized that this group deserved to be confronted. The king's men showed little interest in addressing the group, so this small band had decided to take matters into their own hands.

As they got up to leave, one of them accidentally backed into me as he stepped back from the table. Just before he did, I heard him mutter something about the lack of fighting skills present in the group. I had noticed myself that they seemed to be little more than farmers, although one appeared to at least fancy himself a user of magic by his clothing. I quickly excused the man when he asked my pardon, but stood up and followed him outside. I offered my assistance, telling him I had overheard the group, and particularly his concern about their ability to take this cult. He was dubious, and asked my profession, then my reason for helping. I told him simply that I was once a monk in the orders of Kossuth now working as a bodyguard, and that I had no desire to suffer the Salamander devotees to live. He accepted tentatively, but seemed skeptical about my ability to help. I suggested I spar with him or another in his party to show my fighting skill. He agreed.

Shortly thereafter, the two of us met up with the rest of the group north of Suzail. Quickly my offer was debated, with several members unwilling to trust an unknown volunteer. The duel was proposed, and accepted by a man who was very confident in his abilities. He pulled a wooden practice sword comprised of a bundle of thin strips of wood and a handle. He readied himself and stood across from me. He asked where my weapon was, or if I'd like to borrow a practice weapon. They all seemed surprised when I told them I had no need of a weapon. When I assumed my ready stance, they were further bewildered. I suppose they had never seen a martial artist before.

The fight was over as quickly as it began. My opponent approached cautiously but not overly slowly; my lack of a weapon obviously made him confident. He struck at me once, and that was the end of the fight. I stepped inside the blow and to his right. I snatched his wrist on his sword arm, applying pressure so his hand went numb and he dropped his sword. A pivot and twist of his arm later, he was face-down on the ground, sword arm pinned behind his back. He struggled for a moment, but quickly realized he was helpless. There was no more argument about my joining the group, though some seemed suspicious.

I was pretty worried about what I had gotten myself into at this point. The man I had fought was like a child, awkward and clumsy; I didn't want to be fighting off a pack of brigands by myself. Of course, the vast majority of highwaymen I'd fought had been similarly inept. A few strikes and they were unconcious, had broken bones or were otherwise in no shape for fighting. I knew it was a good thing I was going to do, so I continued with the group. In any case, their banter (they roundly ignored me) was comforting.

The next day, we approached what appeared to be a ruined fort in the King's Forest. This was the supposed hideout of this salamander cult. It looked like they had cannibalised some of the ruins to rebuild some of the more intact buildings, and some newer buildings were constructed out of logs. It wasn't immune to assault, but a pretty defensible position. We attacked swiftly, attempting to achieve surprise (I had no say in this). The lack of awareness of both those I was with and the cult was astonishing. Surprise was essentially achieved by both sides, as our approach was totally unnoticed, as were their numbers totally unexpected. Nonetheless, we had our weapons drawn (except me, of course), whereas some of them did not even have weapons at hand and went scrambling for something to fight with.

I think the fight would have been a slaughter except for my presence. Everyone we had was more or less inept, save the wizard on our side, who had moderate skills. He swiftly took down several archers, which made my life easier, but them seemed to run out of power. Moments later, he was run through and fell to the ground spitting blood. The rest of the group fought valiantly if...not terribly skillfully. Yelling for all they were worth, they engaged the enemy boldly, if ineptly. I did the best I could to even the odds, seeking to stun and knock out opponents rather than finish them completely. I think there were twenty of the brigands, to our six.

Shortly, I had dispatched four of the bandits, with little ill effect. Several of my party had gone down, but the odds were better in our favor. The four of us still standing, including a wounded brawler; nine surrounded us, all shabby-looking and armed with basic weapons. I attacked again, trying to strike quickly and keep them off-balance. I fought five more of them, this time taking several serious wounds; with so many attackers, even their poor skills began to overwhelm me. As the last of the four fell, I saw that the rest of the party was dead, and three brigands remained. All were armed, and none were injured.

I struck again, but very quickly found myself overwhelmed; my mobility was seriously impeded, and soon after striking one with almost all the strength I had left, I took a strong bludgeon to the back of my head. The last thing I remember as I fell to the ground was a flash of fire.

When I awoke, I was surprised I wasn't dead, and even more so to see Marcus, the father of the men who owned the potion shop in Suzail I had frequented. More surprising was Reese, who I'd briefly traveled with while guarding a caravan traveling to Cormyr from the west. It had been two years since I'd seen Reece, and months since Marcus had been in the shop. Marcus had healed my wounds, and they had finished off the last few brigands with ease. They asked why I was there, and I told them about the Salamander Cult. They, too, had heard about the cult, and had come to investigate; they had some greater enemy they were trying to find, although they didn't say much about it.

I traveled back to Suzail with them, where I kept my guard duties short and within Cormyr while aiding Reece, Marcus and Deuce here and there as a bit of muscle. Over time, I learned through our brief adventures and conversations about their struggles with Figment. It seemed to me to be a worthy cause, and I was enjoying the first real companions I'd had since leaving Thay. A few months later, Reece asked if I would accompany them on a larger journey that would take them out of Suzail. I agreed.