Makings of a Monster

Winski was racking his brain to make up an excuse to visit the old man. No one knew very much of his business, and he certainly didn't advertise, but there were some rumors. In case it proved to be a dead end he didn't want any rumours about THEM. He eyed Sarevok, who only seemed to grow in manly glory. In two weeks he would be fifteen, and come of age under Sembia's law. Even Reiltar was excited about fact, because then Sarevok would get an official position in the mercenary forces of Iron Throne. Nominally he would start as a foot soldier, but as he already had a reputation as a skilled fighter and Reiltar as stepfather, it would be a matter of months that he would get his first promotion.

Reiltar was so happy that he was planning some kind of festivities. After all, this was one step ahead in his plan to carve an empire. He assumed Sarevok would obey him without question. Well, best to play along for now, thought Winski. The beatings had stopped after that mayhem Allonia had saved them from. Winski and Jelena had hot and passionate love affair going on, and fortunately Reiltar seemed to have left even Jelena alone. He was preoccupied now, hardly paying attention to his family or to Winski. Great plans. More power. Something like that.

At times Winski pondered if such things were important after all. If all living a good life would take would just be living as a family, with Jelena as wife and Sarevok as a child, and just trying his best. His best at what? Oh, and they'd have to kill Reiltar. Yeah, great plan. And Sarevok's darkness would not go away just by pretending that it wasn't there. He had to find out. They had to find out the truth. After Sarevok's horror at his first memory had faded he had been almost catatonic for hours, freaking Winski majorly out. Finally the boy had recovered and seemed to be his old self again, but certain bitterness that hadn't been there before had taken a permanent residence in his golden eyes. He knew now that the stranger had chosen someone else over him, leaving him to die. Winski had tried to point out that the stranger didn't have much choice and that it was a matter of seconds, and he nodded. The bitterness was there just the same.

Winski knocked the door, which creaked open. A suspicious face of an old man appeared.
- "Um, good day. I'm selling portable magical brooms and..."
But the old man already was gasping and staring at Sarevok in awe and horror. They used the moment to their advantage and entered, slamming the door shut. They really didn't need to ask. This man definitely knew something.
- "You! You must be one of the Children!"
Apparently he couldn't decide between horror and exhilaration.
- "I can feel the taint, I can feel my old master calling through your blood! It flows so strong in you, so strong."
Sarevok grabbed the old man, trying to keep calm.
- "What children? What taint? You are not making sense."
- "Oh, a joyous day! He will come back as the prophecy says. In the wake of the Children death and chaos ensues..." the madman went on.
- "Quit it and start by defining some of the basic concepts you use!" snapped Winski. "The children would be a nice start."
- "His children, his spawn! Spread all over the country! In their wake chaos shall ensue, so sayeth the wise Alaundo..."
- "Alaundo?" The prophet.
- "WHOSE children? Tell me! Tell me what is wrong with me!" Sarevok was shaking the man, his eyes getting a dangerous look. He was upset, and he didn't seem to get the answers he craved.
- "Children of Bhaal! The dead Lord of Murder! Oh, what a strong child! You will be such a vessel to his glorious resurrect..."
Sarevok was crying openly, his face pale, and choking the man.

- "What lord of Murder? What vessel? I don't want to be a vessel! I don't want a taint! What do I do now? How do I get myself back?" He was shouting, so angry. The old man's eyes were rolling, and he seemed to retreat all the further in his delusions.
- "The glory! The bloodshed! The beauty in violent death..." he babbled on
- "Shut up! Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!" Sarevok was enraged, getting hysterical.
- "Sarevok. Control. Now, " Winski tried his authoritative no-nonsense voice, but it didn't get through. This had happened before, and with that damnable magic resistance of his it meant there was not much to do but to watch the show. The boy was already taller than him, and a mere half-handed smack from him would be more than enough to subdue Winski.

Sarevok's angular face was a mask of hissing rage now.
- "You say that I am a child of some dead Lord of Murder, and you babble about chaos and blood and resurrection and taint and vessel. Make sense or I kill you."
- "Oh yes. Kill, kill, death, murder, blood..." the old man smiled now, his eyes closed.
- "TALK! YOU BABBLING IDIOT, TALK!" he roared and squeezed, shook, the familiar murder in his eyes. As the man gasped his last breath, he seemed somewhat blissful. Sarevok banged the frail corpse against the wall a long time after the man was already dead. Once he snapped out of it, he took a pondering look at the corpse in his grip and let it drop on the floor.

- "Good going, Sarevok. Now we have to get rid of the corpse."
- "Didn't you hear what he said..." Sarevok's voice was small again, a voice of a child, while it had been a frightening roar just a moment ago.
Winski sighed.
- "I did. We got the information we wanted, but we can't get emotional now. We have to clear the mess. We will have to deal with this later."
But Sarevok was not able to. As Winski took care of the arrangements, he just hugged his knees and cried silently. How he can be such a man at one moment and such a child at other, thought Winski.