Adrian: Baldur's Gate

"Adrian!"

It was Imoen. Adrian's head snapped up, and his eyes narrowed. He had close-cropped black hair, and cold gray eyes. His face, even at such a young age, was hard and harsh-planed.

Imoen was his only friend in all of Candlekeep. And it sounded like she was in trouble.

"Adrian!" she cried again, then squealed in pain. The squeal was accompanied by a dull thump.

Adrian set off at the run, his sturdy twelve-year-old legs pounding him along at a fast but steady pace. His gait was becoming the easy lope of the wolf, his grey eyes seeking Imoen.

It wasn't far to go. Around the corner, that vicious little Gnome, Beurros, was beating Imoen up. Again. It was the third time in a month. Adrian had warned Beurros off his friend, but the small minded creep hadn't listened.

Too bad for him.

Beurros still hadn't noticed him. "He's not coming this time, Immy," he mocked her, hitting her again, harder, in the cheek. "You're gonna have to stand up for yourself--"

He was interrupted by Adrian's fist smacking into the side of his head. Beurros yowled and fell to one side. It was enough; he wouldn't dare strike Imoen again this day. But that wasn't enough for Adrian. He was filled with fury, and wasn't going to let his friend be hurt anymore. He threw punch after punch, driving Beurros into the ground, drawing blood. Beurros began to scream in pain. Imoen began to scream again too, in fear.

The guards arrived barely in time.

Adrian sat sulkily in Gorion's room, staring down at the well-swept stone cobbles.

"You could have killed him," Gorion said sternly. The old sage's eyes were on him, he could feel them, burning his skin. But he felt no guilt, only frustration.

"He was hurting Imoen," Adrian said sulkily.

"Yes, and you were right to stop him. But you did far more than that. It was a near thing. If the guards had come any later, the priests of Oghma would have had to resurrect him. As it is, he'll be in the sickhouse for days."

Adrian looked at the floor and said nothing.

"Look at me!" the old monk commanded.

Reluctantly, Adrian raised his head and looked Gorion in the eyes.

"You must learn to control your temper, Adrian. You must. Or else one day it will consume you, and destroy everything that you are."

Adrian frowned. "I don't understand."

Gorion nodded sadly. "And I pray you never do, my boy. I pray you never do. In any rate, you will have to muck out the stables for three days as punishment."

Adrian nodded, and left.

The old man sighed wearily. It would be no real punishment to Adrian, he knew. The boy liked physical work. It was easy for him.

He had done his best to guard these two Bhaalspawn, these children of darkness. Imoen had turned out well, but in Adrian the Bhaal-taint was strong, so strong...

The door creaked and Imoen came in. She had only been here for two years, but on some level Adrian must have felt their unspoken kinship, and become he protector. Aside from Gorion himself, she was literally the only one in all Candlekeep that didn't hate or fear him. It was this friendship that gave Gorion what little hope he had for Adrian.

"Master Gorion," she whispered. "What's wrong with Adrian?"

Gorion looked at her, knowing he could not tell her the truth. The truth that was also her own.

"Many things, my child," sighed Gorion. "Many things."

They embraced, and he held the little child, as outside it began to rain.