Missing

Lately Mark is nowhere to be found, he was last seen at the crossroads overlooking the area, watching the road that leads up to Castle Krag on the other side of the river but when night fell he vanished.

Although nobody knows, late events have taken a toll on him, while walking through the cormanthor forest reading the Ilmateri prayer book that Jonah lend him he wonders if it is worth to try and be a good person in a world full of ungrateful, hypocrite, lying, rotten bastards for the sake of the ones that deserve it or ignore that task, forget about those in need of help and let other people take care of them and focus on erasing the darkness that blights this world.
Each day that passes Kendra suffers enslavement and Shadowdale does nothing but execute thieves, is it really worth protecting them? Everytime that Mark asks himself this question something inside him answers what he desires, he wants to see that town burn, he wants to see Arjay, Alexander, Julia, Vincent, Aerandir, Cruven and all those rats suffer, cry in pain for their sins... but amongst the madness of his darkest desires the kindness of Laura and Jonah lighten his mood.
The only thing stopping him from going on a rampage is that he could never betray Laura's trust, there is nothing more disgusting than a traitor and he will surely not become one but even though he is adamant about it... The frustration of allowing evil to lurk around is too much pressure on him.

Mark aimlessly wanders through the woods, unsure when he will come back.

Mark was patrolling the Cormanthor forest when a group of drow ambushed him, there were many but he had been fighting for a long time now, not since he had arrived to the Dales, not since he had to defend his family and failed miserably, not since he travelled through the lands, Mark's life had always been struggling to survive one way or the other and amidst the spells flying, the bolts coated with poison and the sword swinging at him he was, despite all, happy? He was certainly familiar with the feeling of being killed at any moment and that was made him survive no matter what.

"What am I doing in this rotten land?" he asked himself smashing his shield into a drow's chest "Risking my life for people that don't give a damn about me?" he parried a spell with his sword and with a swift motion a drow's heart was pierced with the bastard sword he had been carrying since his family died "What am I doing wondering what path to follow? Am I stupid? How can I be thinking about killing them? This is not who I am. I have no problem beating them, smashing them, humilliating them but not killing them, killing teaches nothing, killing is the tool of the weak... Zhentarim, Drow, Bandits, they all kill and for what? What is the purpose behind it? It is way harder to stop the blade from striking. What am I doing with my life? There are people who need me, who need someone that is truly a good person from the bottom of his heart. Jonah, I don't know him that well but how could I possibly betray Laura? What kind of sick bastard would I be to make her cry? What would she do if she knew I though about teaching everyone in this land to know the pain through Loviatar?" Mark looked around only to see the group of drow lying dead at his feet, fighting was something he knew too well and allowed him to think.
"I am better than them, I have to be, for the sake of those that deserve better, they can call me whatever they want, they can try whatever they think they should do but I am not going to give in or give up, Mark is only a facade, beneath it lies the true me and I sure as hell won't compromise who I am for two petty towns telling me what to do. I will be True Justice for the vermin that blight this lands and I will teach them my way how to redeem themselves, I may be the worst Ilmateri ever but I sure as hell will be the best person around."
Mark walked towards the Crossroads, travelling through the now familiar lands it wouldn't take more than a few days to arrive there and while walking he prepared for one of the toughest fights since he had been in the Dales.

Mark seated on top of a hill, he had always loved places where he could look over the area but today he wasn't happy, he had been hearing rumours about someone who he considered a friend becoming a Zhentarim and he knew what had to be done.
People thought Mark was ruthless, a scumbag with no feelings towards others but they misunderstood him completely because he knew exactly the consecuences of what he did, he knew that attacking someone would make him or her his enemy but he couldn't give in to the temptation, despite his feelings he had to do it for the greater good.
Mark checked that his bastard sword was still sharp, he touched the edge and cut his fingertip a bit by accident, looking at his own blood he clenched his fist and held back a few tears, he was about to end the life of someone he loved as a sister and all because of the Zhentarim again, that was his duty, it was his fault for allowing the Zhentarim to live, it was his fault for not being what they wanted him to be.
On his left arm the shield that Cleophus gave him protected his friends from the pain and taught them how to deal with it like Ilmater taught his followers, but on his right arm he carried the bastard sword to punish those who fed on fear, it was Loviatar's will to teach them through suffering. What side would he choose?

As he walked up the mountain he saw the snow in the distance, there was a long road ahead patrolled by Zhentarim and the cold climate full of creatures would make hunting for food difficult but he had been there before, the wolves meat was good enough and in case of being surrounded he could always scape into the laberynth to avoid being captured.
Undead attacked him and with a swift movement the magical properties of the adamantine pierced through the energy animating the bones, they fell to the ground making a loud noise and Mark kept walking towards his objective. Tattoos that made him resilient to the Weave, a stubborn mind capable of repelling most mesmerizing spells, enough trinkets to chase a mage running away and a bastard sword forged to pierce through any defense a mage could have.... He prepared himself to the battle to come, she surely would be by Jack's side at all times so that meant that he had to cut her tendons and snatch her away before that masked freak could react.
He smiled looking at the tanglefoot bomb on his hand "Illuskans get things done"