To sleep with a murderer, it was quite an odd experience. To know he lay beside one who could easily wedge a knife into his chest and tear him open like some twisted art. Yet, Enver held no fear.

He often lay with the Chosen of Bhaal, to be entangled together perhaps like regular lovers when both slept with daggers beneath their pillows. Neither would draw, neither would bring harm to the other (despite the quite common threats) and that was far more comforting to Gortash than any hollow platitudes of love that could be uttered between them. Not that he did not often find pleasure thinking of how his lover may be creative in killing him in an artful dedication to the God of Murder, Bhaal.

Sunlight flickered along the pair where they lay, stirring the warmonger Enver as he shifted slightly to stretch and yawn, dark gaze moving to rest upon where the Dark Urge had curled up beside him in that lavish bed. Gortash adored the high life, if only just for that comfortable bed to recline in in the morning alongside another blessed by a divinely cruel god.