Makings of a Monster

WARNING: This part contains a graphic description of a violent beating. Torture with meat cleaver, general, vicious violence against helpless recipients. Rape. In the end, it is explained in very general terms what happened so that readers that choose to skip this part won't get confused.

Reiltar appeared in the doorway. Sarevok had already heard his agitated footsteps, anxiously anticipating and turning to face him. His stepfather had already unbuckled the heavy, thick leather belt and rolled the other end around his large, strong fist. Apparently he had decided to use the buckle end this time, as he did if he felt that Sarevok deserved an extra harsh punishment. It automatically meant the humiliation of crying aloud. Even the very first lash broke his skin, and after that every stroke was intolerable, ripping a new, fiery source of maddening pain, as if all his dignity and sanity, his very sense of self as a person with limits was bleeding away from those punctures, all this adding to the customary blistering and burning heat. Fighting caused pain sometimes too, but it was a pain of a warrior, and that he could handle. This was a pain of a little helpless boy, a pain you had to just take without any mercy, because there were no alternatives, no chances to defend yourself. He sometimes wondered why he still was so afraid of Reiltar, why he still felt that he had no alternative but to remove his clothes and bend over, gritting his teeth and offering no resistance. He had killed many men, some of them almost as big, savage, and strong as Reiltar, and armed with something much more dangerous than a leather belt. It was just that it had gone on so long, that Reiltar was so sure of his superiority, and that Sarevok somehow lost part of his pride and sense of being what he was when Reiltar menaced him. He also still minded Winski: he knew that he would have to have that mysterious force to aid himself if he would hope to defeat Reiltar. Then Reiltar would be dead, and soon he would be too. As certainly as if he tried to resist Reiltar, and failed.

The buckle end dangling dangerously tightened the knot of fear in Sarevok's throat, and more than that was the look in Reiltar's eyes. The man was on the verge of losing it. He hadn't looked that angry, and that out of control of himself in years. Sarevok couldn't help remembering years ago , when Reiltar had almost killed him with the horsewhip. He had similar look then, only not this angry. There was also the exhilaration and happiness too. Sarevok shuddered, but his true worry was grander than any of these.
- "Father, please. I beg of you to go see Winski before my punishment."
Reiltar just snorted.
- "He is really badly ill, and I wouldn't have done it otherwise. Please just go and help him, send for a priest or... I don't know, but please hurry! I promise to stay in my room if you only save him. You can give me the beating later, even with the horsewhip if you want!"
The pleading humiliated Sarevok more than he would have thought possible, but his fear of Winski dying made him capable of doing that.

Reiltar laughed. It occurred to Sarevok that the man never laughed out of joy or happiness, or because of fooling around and joking like Winski and Jelena did.
- "After you thoroughly humiliated me, disrespected me in front of the very people I'm supposed to control to maintain the position I have, the position that is a privilege for you as well, you think you have some bargaining leverage left? No, Sarevok. This ultimately goes to show that I have been far too lenient with you, and left you too much with Winski and that cow. You are growing and will be a man soon, which means it will soon be too late. This has to end. Your impudence far exceeded all the limits set to you, or to any son, and now you pay."

Reiltar took a few steps forward, raising his fists. Sarevok could see that the man was seriously tempted to just punch his face with all his might, but probably still remembered Winski's warning. It was possible that the mage would die, but Reiltar couldn't count on it. Sarevok, on the other hand, almost hoped that he would ignore the warning. That way Reiltar could knock him unconscious, and then there would only be the illness and the agony afterwards, when he came to, if Reiltar wasn't gone enough to kill him, that was. The fists hit his stomach and chest full-force instead, knocking the air out of him and sending him reeling on the floor. A vicious kick into his side, a sound of a few ribs cracking, and Sarevok made a retching sound, trying to cower himself from further blows and get his breath back.

- "That's better. And now you come here, take your clothes away and bend over the desk for your punishment."
Sarevok meekly did. It didn't matter any more, he numbly thought. Perhaps he would this time kill him, perhaps it was possible to do that if you beat someone with a belt long time enough. Perhaps then Winski would die too, and they would end up into a better afterlife without Reiltar, without the perpetual knot of dread in his throat... but they were both murderers. Perhaps there would be something even worse than Reiltar. And then mother would be all alone... Sarevok sobbed, faintly displeased that Reiltar probably saw that as a sign of breaking his will.

The beating began. He had got the buckle end treatment before, naturally, but this time Reiltar was using all the force in his treetrunks of arms, his rage adding to the vicious strength of the blows. Other times he beat Sarevok almost casually, like it was a habit like Winski's glass of evening brandy or mother's morning tea. This was not like that. This was like Reiltar was determined to crush what remained of Sarevok's soul and body. Sarevok's broken ribs and chest already radiated crimson pain, and the pain ripping the scarred skin of his back and buttocks open and searing it, blow after blow raking it with poisonous, iron nails was exponentially adding to the agony. His ears were buzzing, but from somewhere he could rather sense that hear a continuos, high-pitched scream of anguish. Fuzzily he started to realize it was him, screaming himself. He didn't see much anymore, just white dots and fuzzy shapes.

Suddenly Reiltar's frenzy was interrupted. Sarevok wasn't conscious enough to realise the cessation of the pain, but Reiltar whirled around, panting, eyes gleaming, sweating, like a proud athlete on a roll.
Jelena. The woman was holding a big meat cleaver, and looking into his eyes with an expression Reiltar never had perceived in them before. Red-hot, blind rage.
- "This has to end, Reiltar. For Ilmater's sake, don't you see that his very bones are protruding from that reddish mess you have made his back into! He is a child, and you are his father, and you are supposed to protect and guide him, not do this."
- "Jelena. If you know what's good for you, you put that cleaver down and go away, and don't interfere with my disciplining Sarevok."
Jelena laughed contemptuously.
- "What is good for you!" she mimicked sarcastically."Every time I have taken your word for what is good for me, it has been only suffering and pain for me, and for Sarevok."
- "And I suppose I shouldn't do anything about it if he behaves with such unimaginable disrespect as he did today? I just should pat his head and feed him candy?" sneered Reiltar.
- "The reason he did that was that he cares about another person enough to risk his personal safety even when facing a sadist like you! Something you would know nothing about. I have had enough of you, Reiltar! Enough!"
Reiltar's rage seemed to reach a new level, but he couldn't help noticing the cleaver. Jelena's hands didn't shake as she was holding it.
- "And don't you go about coddling him and the need of discipline!" she continued. "Winski has punished him sometimes too, you know. Not often, mind you. He is a good boy, it is not needed most of the time. And when it is, he doesn't hurt him. He only gives him a detention, perhaps some essay to write about during it so that he can think about the thing himself and understand where he went wrong. And after the detention is over, they talk about it and make up. And guess which works better? Winski has taught Sarevok so much, he doesn't break stuff so easily anymore when he gets angry, for example, and what have you taught him? Nothing but hate and fear! I'm sick of you!"
- "That it, Jelena? Winski is a terrific child-rearer and tutor with sage-like wisdom, while I'm a clueless bastard?"
- "Exactly." There was such a profound contempt in Jelena's voice.
- "Then tell me, Jelena..." Reiltar spoke in hissing, quiet voice bordering to giggling, "why is it that I'm one of the most important men of this very city, not to mention the Iron Throne, while Winski is a penniless drunk of a mage-for-hire puking his guts out and dying any moment?"

That was it. Jelena swung the cleaver at Reiltar with all her might. Unfortunately she was as unaccustomed to violence other than being in the receiving end of it as a person could be, never mind having ever had a benefit of any martial training. Reiltar easily dodged the blow and grabbed her hand, taking the cleaver and tossing it away. Now the rage made his face a hideous, distorted mask. His expression was a mix of hate and frenzy, but also joy and lust. Jelena understood that her very life was on the line now, but also that begging wouldn't accomplish her anything. She just stared in horror like an animal caught in the jaws of a large predator. With one hand Reiltar grabbed her like a rag doll and gave her a few hard slaps, then tossed her reeling on the floor. He casually grabbed the cleaver and sat on Jelena, crushing her ribcage with his bulk. Jelena had hard time breathing and tried to quell her tears, in order to breath calmly and not choke. Almost gently, like a lover, Reiltar took her right palm.
- "Hmmm. Such a nice hand to have, isn't it, Jelena? A pity I could chop it away just like that."
He slammed the hand on the floor and lifted the cleaver as if to do just that, savoring the horror on Jelena's face, her expression tight waiting for the blow. Then he shook his head.
- "On second thought, no. Then you would be even less useful than now. Would have to hire a maid to do the housework. I think I'll just break few of your fingers to give you the right idea." He did that like it was nothing, cracking the fingers like they were dry twigs. Her screams of pain pleased him greatly.
- "One finger you can do without though. We can't have you have ideas like this anymore." He pinned her pinky on the floor and casually chopped it off, the blood spurting and Jelena just staring in disbelief as a former part of her anatomy rolled on the carpet like a lonely cockroach scurrying to safety.

- "And then the fun part. Sarevok seems to be passed out, but we'll hope he comes to and sees and learns." He ripped Jelena's dress open from neckline to the very hem, exposing her completely. He savagely shoved her legs apart, and the poor woman was already too terrified to give even token resistance. Reiltar found himself very much sexually exhilarated. Too bad Jelena only had nine fingers left. This seemed to be the best foreplay ever.
He proceeded brutally to rape her, pounding her like she was a sack of potatoes, and throttling her throat at the same time, inadvertently tightening and tightening his squeeze in his excitement.

Jelena was still stunned with the horror of losing her finger, and the excruciating pain radiating from her broken ones. But she felt the hands on her throat, and it really started to hurt. Her face started to get bloated and red, and she understood she was very near dying now.
- "Sarevok, son, love... Sarevok, hear me... please save me..." she croaked, not aware of anyone else who could come to her aid.

Into the lingering sea of haze, fire and excruciating pain Sarevok was drifting in, the familiar, loved voice started to call. He shook himself, tried to focus, tried to collect his wits. The nausea, the horrible, burning pain in his back. The ribs and chest splintered, puncturing his internal organs. What... what... the desperate plea, mother in danger... he staggered blinking his eyelids, trying to focus his eyesight and get his brain function properly. He could see Reiltar pounding Jelena, strangling her, bouncing her head to the floor. He started to remember. Mother coming to his aid, some darkness and now this. In primal rage he tried to take a blow at Reiltar's head, but fell flat on the floor, starting to loose consciousness again. Reiltar interrupted the rape and proceeded to kick Sarevok in ribs and stomach, when another actor entered the sickening play.

The greenish-pale Winski had somehow managed to stagger onto the doorway, looking very much like some sort of an undead. How he had managed was anyones guess, and he was sweating profusely and leaning on the doorsill in his weakness.
- "Reiltar. Remember that nasty business back in Cormyr when that moron Geron Jaleff died quite long and painfully so that even Allonia flinched at it? I used a spell trigger then. You know what a spell trigger is? It is something magicians can memorize spells into beforehand, so that they can unleash them immediately without having to do the incantations in the midst of a battle. I myself kind of like a combination of two fire arrows and one acid one. Quite enough to kill a weak man and incapacitate even a hulking bastard like you. The amusing part is that the acid comes gradually, making the thing quite painful and lingering. Plenty of time to let these two broken treasures to play with you in whatever way they want.
Ah. Ah, I know what you're thinking. Does he have a spell trigger memorized? After all, I'd hardly be a match to you in my condition if I didn't. Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement, I've kinda lost track myself. But being as that special combination of spell is certainly powerful enough to blow you painfully and certainly away, you've got to ask yourself one question: "Do I feel lucky?""
Reiltar stopped in mid-kick, seriously hesitating.
- "Well, do you punk?" asked Winski, his yellow eyes radiating hate.

Recap: Sarevok gets punished for his impudence to the point of severity (internal injuries, unconsciousness, broken ribs) that Jelena cracks and tries to put a stop to it. She succeeds, at a terrible cost to herself. Reiltar hurts them both very badly, but the deathly ill Winski staggers there and threatens to unleash a spell trigger onto him unless he stops immediately.