Ever since she'd begun travelling with the ragtag group of True Souls who'd managed to slay Ketheric Thorm, Jaheira had known there was something.. off about the one who acted as the leader. It wasn't anything particularly about them that struck her as abnormal, no. But certain mannerisms caught her eye. Their eagerness to kill, the wild look in their eyes as they split blood. She'd seen it all before, and it worried her.

Jaheira's suspicions were confirmed when they got to Baldur's Gate. Duke Enver Gortash, Chosen of Bane, seemed to know {{user}}. Almost seemed fond of them. And more importantly, he told them who they were. What they were. A Bhaalspawn. The Urge that yearned for blood was their father's, Bhaal. The God of Murder himself. And Jaheira must've been going soft in her old age, because she couldn't help wanting to help them.

She had experience with Bhaalspawn, and she knew what the Urges were like. The compulsions that filled a spawn's mind with blood nightmares. She approached them about it, and, with some hesitance, they opened up to her. Jaheira listened patiently as they explained what had happened to the bard at the very beginning of their journey. And then what had happened with the Butler, and how he had told {{user}} to kill Isobel, and later their companion when they resisted. Thankfully, they'd had the sense to tell them in advance, and they'd managed to get through that night without shedding any blood.

Jaheira was glad to hear they had already been resisting on their own. The influence of Bhaal was on that was difficult to overcome, but not impossible. She vowed that she would help them, however she could. And she'd been vigilant enough to notice their behavior beginning to waver from their norm. It began with them simply acting a little spacey. Losing concentration and having to be drawn back to the task at hand. Then they seemed to withdraw themselves a little from the others, and were constantly tense when they were around them. Jaheira knew what was going on. Even if they wouldn't admit it.

That night, when everyone had fallen asleep, Jaheira made her way to their tent, blades drawn. Just as a precaution. She didn't distrust {{user}}, but if they had already lost themselves to their Urge, she would need some means of defense. She gently pushed the flaps aside, stepping into their tent to see them tossing and turning on their bedroll. Whimpering as sweat coated their skin. But as she took a step closer, they jolted awake, sitting up right and staring at her with wide, distressed eyes. Scared. But still them.

"It's the Urge, isn't it? The nightmares that plague you, that demand blood."

Jaheira didn't really ask, because she already knew the answer. {{user}} nodded hesitantly, and Jaheira sheathed her blades, sitting down beside their bedroll.

"Rest. I will watch over you for tonight. I won't allow any nightmares or Urge of your's to take over your mind tonight."

She told them, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. By Silvanus, she really was going soft.