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#1 Laufey

Posted 11 June 2003 - 03:32 AM

Here's a little something different from me! You see, I got to thinking about Kivan the other day, and decided to try to whip up something about an NPC that I'd never really given much thought before. I hope you'll like it. :wink:


Empty

Soon, it would all be over. The pain would be gone, as would the hatred, the emptiness that had lived at the core of him since that day, the day when she was lost to him. He knew full well that he might not survive the final battle, that it was likely that he would never see another sunrise. It does not matter. As long as I can hear his agonized scream as my arrow finds his rotting black heart, I will die gladly. And scream he will, as she did. My Deheriana…my love. Vengeance will be yours today, at long last.

The temple ahead didn’t look so much built as secreted, an ugly and dark structure, covered with hideous statues of skulls and monsters. He heard his companions whispering quietly, nervously, about their impressions of it, but he remained silent as always. Watching. Listening. The temple seemed to him to be a foul residue, conglomerated around the evil creature that dwelt inside, oozing out through his very pores until it took on a solid shape. Not Sarevok, oh no. Wicked as the Bhaalspawn was, deserving of death as he undoubtedly was, he wasn’t the important one here, no matter if he meant to drench the Sword Coast in blood.

Tazok. Let Kyllin slay her brother, and take her own vengeance for her foster father’s death, for the attempts on her life. But Tazok is mine. I will tear out his heart as he tore out mine. I will take his life as he took the only one who mattered to me. What do I care for conquest, for grandiose plans? Sarevok is evil, yes. He should be slain, and I will aid Kyllin as she has aided me. But Tazok…Tazok I will kill slowly, if I can. As he killed you. Soon, my Deheriana…soon. The ogre bandit’s blood will flow, for you. Will it be red, I wonder? As red as yours was, red against the brown leaves of the forest floor…but black when it soaked them through. We elves are not meant to end like that, in pain and humiliation. We are the People, the firstcomers, and the shining children of Corellon. Pain and death, ugliness and fear, that is not our way. But it is mine. Now it is mine, until I have avenged you, and the ogre lies dead.

Kivan nodded quietly to himself, checking his arrows. The quiver was full, and divided into different categories, to help him prepare for all eventualities. Regular arrows, sharp and deadly, made to pierce even strong armour. Fire arrows, and ice arrows. Magical arrows that could dispel the defences of even a powerful mage. Poisoned arrows, that would secrete a deadly and painful toxin into the bloodstream of the one struck by them. And then, finally, his price, his most precious arrow of all. It was black, black as midnight, and the feather was black as well. It was an Arrow of Ogre Slaying, and it would slay any ogre instantly. He had bought his beloved arrow dearly, but it was well worth it. Much as he wanted to slowly peel the skin from Tazok’s back, he knew that he might not have that luxury, and the ogre’s death was paramount. Here is what I will do, my Deheriana. I will look him into the eyes, into his foul little piggish eyes. He will know me when he sees me, and he will fear me. And I will say: ‘I am Kivan Lil’arlin’ellen. You tortured and killed my beloved Deheriana. Now you die.’

Yes, my love.
The voice in his head was as sweet and clear as it ever was, soothing like a gentle rain. It was her voice, the voice of his soulmate, just as he remembered it. Yes…he will die, and we will both have peace at last. I love you…my Kivan, my devoted one.

And we will be together?

Always, my Kivan. Always together. Am I not with you even now, aiding you in our quest?

Yes. Of course you are. As you have always been.


“Kivan? Are you all right?” The voice seemed to come from very far away, and he had to blink in order to focus on the human woman watching him worriedly. Kyllin’s armour was spotted with blood here and there, and wisps of grimy dark blonde hair were peaking out from beneath her winged helmet. Her slightly stocky frame was tense with nervous anticipation. Deheriana…your hair was like spun gold, flowing down your slender back, your hands as graceful as the wings of a dove. Your eyes were dark and mysterious, the eyes of a tender doe.

“Kivan? I said…”

“Yes,” he grunted, not looking the human woman in the eyes, unwilling to lose focus, to be distracted from the real world, the world of Deheriana. “Go on.”

Kyllin frowned, but then she shrugged and walked on, focused on her own quest for vengeance. Imoen trailed after her as usual, for once not smiling, her face pale and tense beneath the hood of her bright pink cloak. As I always followed you, my Deheriana. Branwen next, the stern warrior maiden, the servant of war. She knows vengeance too, but she has already had hers. What did it feel like, I wonder, when the wizard Tranzig died by her hand? She has never spoken of it. Then Minsc and Dynaheir, with the large Rashemani berserker hovering protectively close to his witch, as always ready to die for the dark-skinned mage, should it be necessary. As I would have died for you, my Deheriana, if I could have.

But he did not let you, my love. Surely you haven’t forgotten?

No! I will never forget, love! Never! Never.


“Kivan!” By now Kyllin sounded seriously annoyed. The silent elf made a brief sound in his throat, indicating that he had heard her, and then walked on after a final inspection of his arrows and bowstring. Yes. Now he was ready. And soon, it would all be over.

There was a woman awaiting them on the steps of the Temple of Murder, and he watched as Kyllin spoke with her, fought her, and killed her. Tamoko, he vaguely remembered the name to be. Sarevok’s lover or some such, was she not? It had been difficult these past few days, paying attention to matters of less importance, now that he knew himself so close to the end of the road. When he fought, then he was perfectly focused, his arrows flying with the utmost precision as they had always done. When he did not, then he retreated away from this world of shades and ghosts, into the real one, where Deheriana awaited him, smiling with her arms outstretched.

Tamoko’s blood was red against the grey and dusty ground, her eyes starting unseeing into eternity as he stepped across her corpse. Red, yes. Though not as red as the soft lips of my precious Deheriana. No, my love, not as red as that.

The inside of the temple of Bhaal, dead God of Murder, was as atrociously ugly as the outside, from what Kivan noticed of it. Dark and oppressive, the air heavy with the smell of blood, and with ugly statues standing along the walls. In the floor was inlaid the large image of a grinning skull, surrounded by scattered tears. The symbol of Bhaal, Lord of Murder, dead for twenty years. But gods do not die easily…and this one had seeded the world with his offspring before giving up his breath, thinking to use them as cheap fuel for his planned resurrection as they fought and killed, sibling against sibling. Kyllin had not known for long about the heritage she shared with Sarevok, her foster father’s slayer and her own would-be murderer, and still hadn’t adjusted to it. She drew in her breath sharply as she stepped across the threshold of the temple, and saw the people standing on the dais on the other side of the room.

Kivan’s eyes turned in the same direction, his sharp elven sight letting him take in the smallest detail of their features. Angelo, the commander of the Flaming Fist, smiling cruelly. A young wizard whom the elf did not recognize. Sarevok himself, wearing a suit of ugly and spiky armour that covered him almost entirely, but his burning golden eyes could be seen clearly, even from this distance. He dismissed them all as unimportant. The important one stood to Sarevok’s left. An ogre, far larger than a normal one, very muscular and heavily armed. He wore a horned helmet, perhaps in imitation of his master, and he wielded an enormous club. Tazok. Tazok. Tazok. Tazok. The name filled the world entirely, throbbing in his head like a pulsating tumour. That is the same club, my love. The club with which he crushed your skull, crushed it like a fragile egg. I remember kneeling by your side, touching you, trying to put you back together. But I could not. I remember the stickiness on my hands. I can still feel it. Tazok. TAZOK!

Hush, my love. I remember too. But you must not lose control now. You must slay him, and slay him well. For me, my Kivan. For me. For you. For us.


Sarevok was speaking now, rambling something to his sister, and Kyllin responded, crying out her defiance. Kivan did not hear either of them. His eyes were focused on Tazok, and Tazok alone. He might make the shot from this point, but he was uncertain. Some of the pillars holding the roof up were in the way, partially obscuring his view of the ogre. He dared take no chances. I will not fail you, my Deheriana. Not again. Never again. And so he watched, and waited, and moved carefully away from his travelling companions.

When the fight was on, he aided as he could, firing arrows as he stalked his prey, but always he kept the target firmly in mind. Tazok. Nothing else could be more important in the world right now. Nothing. The cries of the fighting humans receded behind him as he found his proper position, and the world narrowed to the pinprick point of an ogre’s red eye.

“Tazok!” he called out, his voice hoarse from having seen little use over the years since Deheriana’s death. “TAZOK!”

The ogre turned towards him, growling something unintelligible.

Kivan was smiling now, smiling triumphantly. “Hear my words, foul beast! I am Kivan Lil’arlin’ellen. You tortured and killed my beloved Deheriana. Now you die.”

Tazok simply stared at him, his piggish eyes registering nothing but utter confusion. Then he opened his mouth and spoke, a single word that broke all the painstakingly constructed walls in Kivan’s mind, a word that tore the old wound in his soul open once again. “Who?”

He…he does not remember? I finally stand in front of him, after all this time and HE DOES NOT EVEN REMEMBER? No…it wasn’t supposed to be like this. No. “NOOOOOOOOOO!” Kivan screamed, and the arrow flew from his bow, the black arrow, the special one. It struck that confused red eye, penetrating deep into Tazok’s brain, slaying the ogre instantly.

Tazok slowly toppled, falling off the dais, his heavy body striking the floor with a dull thud. Kivan watched the blood trickle forth, running into the grooves on the floor, outlining the shape of the skull and the tears with deep crimson. Blood and tears for us, my Deheriana. And now for him. He waited, waited for the joyous response of his beloved, for her soft touch against his cheek. Waited. Waited for the emptiness to be gone, for his spirit to soar, for the colours to return to the world. Waited. And waited. Deheriana? My love? But there was nothing, nothing except the battle cries, the screams, the explosions of destructive magic behind him. Within, all was silent, dark and empty. Deheriana? Speak to me, Deheriana. Still she was silent, he could not even feel her presence any longer.

And then he knew, knew the truth at last. She had never been there, had never spoken to him, and had never comforted him in the night. She was long dead and gone, and what he had clung to, the only thing that had comforted him, the thing that had filled his soul, that had been his dream of vengeance. And now vengeance was taken, and he was empty. Consumed. Dried out. He couldn’t even remember what he had felt like before he had started listening to that beautiful voice, before he had started following its whispering advice. The elf he had been was no more, hadn’t existed for a long time now.

I am nothing. Nothing. It wasn’t Deheriana who kept me alive. It was Tazok, and the thought, the need of slaying him. And now…he is gone. Gone. I am all alone.

Silently, Kivan walked across the floor, like a man walking in his sleep, his bow trailing behind him in the dust, ignored. Before him, a giant of a man reared up, eyes burning like furnaces looking down from the gaping maw of his helm. Sarevok’s big twohanded sword slashed at the silent elf, driving deep into his body, impaling him. The pain was great, yet he did not speak, only gasped as the blood spurted from his mouth. Yet Kivan managed to smile a little, despite it all. He was done now, nothing remained. He might as well leave in a purposeful way, accomplishing something. With fading eyes he heard Kyllin screaming, saw her raising her own sword. Saw her thrusting it into her brother’s body, the magical weapon penetrating even his armour before he had the time to pull his own sword free to defend himself.

There were a few seconds of blackness, and now he was on his back on the floor, the world darkening about him. There were lights though…pretty golden specks of light, drifting away like a swarm of fireflies. Idly he wondered what they were. Sarevok was gone, but Kyllin was there, bending over him. Weeping? Yes, weeping. Something hot and salty struck his lips. And there was warmth beneath him as well, and a burning pain in his belly. “Don’t cry…” he whispered.

The human girl was weeping almost too heavily to answer now. “But…you’re dying!”

“No…” Kivan breathed. It was getting more and more difficult to speak now, he had to ration the words as never before. “Not dying. I died…long ago.” I killed myself. Let the vengeance consume me, destroy my spirit. Nothing left now. Empty. So empty. Wearily, he closed his eyes, exhaling a final time. Deheriana…forgive me.

There was no answer.
Rogues do it from behind.

#2 Guest_Domi_*

Posted 11 June 2003 - 03:47 AM

It's a great story and very touching. For a long while I was of a similar opinion on Kivan and his vendetta, but now I prefer to think about it in a slightly different way. I think of a vow to destroy Tazok given to Sheverash, of a life given back to fulfill that vow and of the reunion which awaits Kivan after the vow is fulfilled. I guess it is somewhat similar to the desire you guys have for the villains to have the happy endings.

#3 Laufey

Posted 11 June 2003 - 04:10 AM

It's a great story and very touching. For a long while I was of a similar opinion on Kivan and his vendetta, but now I prefer to think about it in a slightly different way. I think of a vow to destroy Tazok given to Sheverash, of a life given back to fulfill that vow and of the reunion which awaits Kivan after the vow is fulfilled. I guess it is somewhat similar to the desire you guys have for the villains to have the happy endings.


Thank you! :wink: I wouldn't know about villains in general...but I would think it is only natural to wish for favorite characters to find some happiness.
Rogues do it from behind.

#4 Guest_Oryx_*

Posted 11 June 2003 - 04:28 AM

Here's a little something different from me! You see, I got to thinking about Kivan the other day, and decided to try to whip up something about an NPC that I'd never really given much thought before. I hope you'll like it. :)


That's where the smart money is.

I like Kivan a good deal; I have some fun plans for him myself :wink:

Empty


Soon, it would all be over. The pain would be gone, as would the hatred, the emptiness that had lived at the core of him since that day, the day when she was lost to him. He knew full well that he might not survive the final battle, that it was likely that he would never see another sunrise. It does not matter. As long as I can hear his agonized scream as my arrow finds his rotting black heart, I will die gladly. And scream he will, as she did. My Deheriana…my love. Vengeance will be yours today, at long last.


Nice, nice....

The temple ahead didn’t look so much built as secreted, an ugly and dark structure, covered with hideous statues of skulls and monsters. He heard his companions whispering quietly, nervously, about their impressions of it, but he remained silent as always. Watching. Listening. The temple seemed to him to be a foul residue, conglomerated around the evil creature that dwelt inside, oozing out through his very pores until it took on a solid shape. Not Sarevok, oh no. Wicked as the Bhaalspawn was, deserving of death as he undoubtedly was, he wasn’t the important one here, no matter if he meant to drench the Sword Coast in blood.


ah, priorities...

Tazok. Let Kyllin slay her brother, and take her own vengeance for her foster father’s death, for the attempts on her life. But Tazok is mine. I will tear out his heart as he tore out mine. I will take his life as he took the only one who mattered to me. What do I care for conquest, for grandiose plans? Sarevok is evil, yes. He should be slain, and I will aid Kyllin as she has aided me. But Tazok…Tazok I will kill slowly, if I can. As he killed you. Soon, my Deheriana…soon. The ogre bandit’s blood will flow, for you. Will it be red, I wonder? As red as yours was, red against the brown leaves of the forest floor…but black when it soaked them through. We elves are not meant to end like that, in pain and humiliation. We are the People, the firstcomers, and the shining children of Corellon. Pain and death, ugliness and fear, that is not our way. But it is mine. Now it is mine, until I have avenged you, and the ogre lies dead.


As long as pain and death are anybody's way, they'll be everybody's way. You can't just run and hide and sail away, elves, in Toril or Middle-Earth.

Kivan nodded quietly to himself, checking his arrows. The quiver was full, and divided into different categories, to help him prepare for all eventualities. Regular arrows, sharp and deadly, made to pierce even strong armour. Fire arrows, and ice arrows. Magical arrows that could dispel the defences of even a powerful mage. Poisoned arrows, that would secrete a deadly and painful toxin into the bloodstream of the one struck by them. And then, finally, his price, his most precious arrow of all. It was black, black as midnight, and the feather was black as well. It was an Arrow of Ogre Slaying, and it would slay any ogre instantly. He had bought his beloved arrow dearly, but it was well worth it. Much as he wanted to slowly peel the skin from Tazok’s back, he knew that he might not have that luxury, and the ogre’s death was paramount. Here is what I will do, my Deheriana. I will look him into the eyes, into his foul little piggish eyes. He will know me when he sees me, and he will fear me. And I will say: ‘I am Kivan Lil’arlin’ellen. You tortured and killed my beloved Deheriana. Now you die.’


My name is Inigo Mantoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!

I like the best name...yours?

Yes, my love. The voice in his head was as sweet and clear as it ever was, soothing like a gentle rain. It was her voice, the voice of his soulmate, just as he remembered it. Yes…he will die, and we will both have peace at last. I love you…my Kivan, my devoted one.


aw

And we will be together?


in Arvundor

Always, my Kivan. Always together. Am I not with you even now, aiding you in our quest?


Yes. Of course you are. As you have always been.


“Kivan? Are you all right?” The voice seemed to come from very far away, and he had to blink in order to focus on the human woman watching him worriedly. Kyllin’s armour was spotted with blood here and there, and wisps of grimy dark blonde hair were peaking out from beneath her winged helmet. Her slightly stocky frame was tense with nervous anticipation. Deheriana…your hair was like spun gold, flowing down your slender back, your hands as graceful as the wings of a dove. Your eyes were dark and mysterious, the eyes of a tender doe.


*sniff*

“Kivan? I said…”


There was a woman awaiting them on the steps of the Temple of Murder, and he watched as Kyllin spoke with her, fought her, and killed her. Tamoko, he vaguely remembered the name to be. Sarevok’s lover or some such, was she not? It had been difficult these past few days, paying attention to matters of less importance, now that he knew himself so close to the end of the road. When he fought, then he was perfectly focused, his arrows flying with the utmost precision as they had always done. When he did not, then he retreated away from this world of shades and ghosts, into the real one, where Deheriana awaited him, smiling with her arms outstretched.


Go to them, Maximus...

Tamoko’s blood was red against the grey and dusty ground, her eyes starting unseeing into eternity as he stepped across her corpse. Red, yes. Though not as red as the soft lips of my precious Deheriana. No, my love, not as red as that.


I see Deheriana everywhere!

The inside of the temple of Bhaal, dead God of Murder, was as atrociously ugly as the outside, from what Kivan noticed of it. Dark and oppressive, the air heavy with the smell of blood, and with ugly statues standing along the walls. In the floor was inlaid the large image of a grinning skull, surrounded by scattered tears. The symbol of Bhaal, Lord of Murder, dead for twenty years. But gods do not die easily…and this one had seeded the world with his offspring before giving up his breath, thinking to use them as cheap fuel for his planned resurrection as they fought and killed, sibling against sibling. Kyllin had not known for long about the heritage she shared with Sarevok, her foster father’s slayer and her own would-be murderer, and still hadn’t adjusted to it. She drew in her breath sharply as she stepped across the threshold of the temple, and saw the people standing on the dais on the other side of the room.


Shang Tsung: Prepare for final combat!!!

Kivan’s eyes turned in the same direction, his sharp elven sight letting him take in the smallest detail of their features. Angelo, the commander of the Flaming Fist, smiling cruelly. A young wizard whom the elf did not recognize. Sarevok himself, wearing a suit of ugly and spiky armour that covered him almost entirely, but his burning golden eyes could be seen clearly, even from this distance. He dismissed them all as unimportant. The important one stood to Sarevok’s left. An ogre, far larger than a normal one, very muscular and heavily armed. He wore a horned helmet, perhaps in imitation of his master, and he wielded an enormous club. Tazok. Tazok. Tazok. Tazok. The name filled the world entirely, throbbing in his head like a pulsating tumour. That is the same club, my love. The club with which he crushed your skull, crushed it like a fragile egg. I remember kneeling by your side, touching you, trying to put you back together. But I could not. I remember the stickiness on my hands. I can still feel it. Tazok. TAZOK!


niiiice....

Hush, my love. I remember too. But you must not lose control now. You must slay him, and slay him well. For me, my Kivan. For me. For you. For us.


awww

Kivan was smiling now, smiling triumphantly. “Hear my words, foul beast! I am Kivan Lil’arlin’ellen. You tortured and killed my beloved Deheriana. Now you die.”


Oh good. Nothing would be worse than stuttering over those lines...

imagine if Jaheira had died instead of Khalid:

(party at Tree of Life)

Khalid: Irenicus! I am K-K-K-K-halid. You k-k-k-k-k-k- slew my J-J-J-J....um, l-l-l-l-, um. b-b-b-b-b-b....um, FUCK IT....AHHHH!!!!! *charges*

Tazok simply stared at him, his piggish eyes registering nothing but utter confusion. Then he opened his mouth and spoke, a single word that broke all the painstakingly constructed walls in Kivan’s mind, a word that tore the old wound in his soul open once again. “Who?”


You must be that Spanish brat....

He…he does not remember? I finally stand in front of him, after all this time and HE DOES NOT EVEN REMEMBER? No…it wasn’t supposed to be like this. No. “NOOOOOOOOOO!” Kivan screamed, and the arrow flew from his bow, the black arrow, the special one. It struck that confused red eye, penetrating deep into Tazok’s brain, slaying the ogre instantly.


Shang Tsung: FATALITY!

Tazok slowly toppled, falling off the dais, his heavy body striking the floor with a dull thud. Kivan watched the blood trickle forth, running into the grooves on the floor, outlining the shape of the skull and the tears with deep crimson. Blood and tears for us, my Deheriana. And now for him. He waited, waited for the joyous response of his beloved, for her soft touch against his cheek. Waited. Waited for the emptiness to be gone, for his spirit to soar, for the colours to return to the world. Waited. And waited. Deheriana? My love? But there was nothing, nothing except the battle cries, the screams, the explosions of destructive magic behind him. Within, all was silent, dark and empty. Deheriana? Speak to me, Deheriana. Still she was silent, he could not even feel her presence any longer.


noooo!!!!!

I am nothing. Nothing. It wasn’t Deheriana who kept me alive. It was Tazok, and the thought, the need of slaying him. And now…he is gone. Gone. I am all alone.


I've been in the revenge business so long, I don't know what else to do....

Silently, Kivan walked across the floor, like a man walking in his sleep, his bow trailing behind him in the dust, ignored. Before him, a giant of a man reared up, eyes burning like furnaces looking down from the gaping maw of his helm. Sarevok’s big twohanded sword slashed at the silent elf, driving deep into his body, impaling him. The pain was great, yet he did not speak, only gasped as the blood spurted from his mouth. Yet Kivan managed to smile a little, despite it all. He was done now, nothing remained. He might as well leave in a purposeful way, accomplishing something. With fading eyes he heard Kyllin screaming, saw her raising her own sword. Saw her thrusting it into her brother’s body, the magical weapon penetrating even his armour before he had the time to pull his own sword free to defend himself.


Well, that's one tactic. The ol' 'neutralize Sarevok by covering his sword with your innards'. Yes, yes, a standard tactic, that.

There were a few seconds of blackness, and now he was on his back on the floor, the world darkening about him. There were lights though…pretty golden specks of light, drifting away like a swarm of fireflies. Idly he wondered what they were. Sarevok was gone, but Kyllin was there, bending over him. Weeping? Yes, weeping. Something hot and salty struck his lips. And there was warmth beneath him as well, and a burning pain in his belly. “Don’t cry…” he whispered.


...for me Argentiina...

The human girl was weeping almost too heavily to answer now. “But…you’re dying!”


“No…” Kivan breathed. It was getting more and more difficult to speak now, he had to ration the words as never before. “Not dying. I died…long ago.” I killed myself. Let the vengeance consume me, destroy my spirit. Nothing left now. Empty. So empty. Wearily, he closed his eyes, exhaling a final time. Deheriana…forgive me.


There was no answer.


NOOO!!!!!!!!

An anti-revenge then message, I take it?

Very eloquent. Bravo, bravo!!!

Poor Kivan *sniff* but I think the will be reunited in Arvundor...tra-la-la-la-la!!

#5 Laufey

Posted 11 June 2003 - 04:38 AM


Tazok. Let Kyllin slay her brother, and take her own vengeance for her foster father’s death, for the attempts on her life. But Tazok is mine. I will tear out his heart as he tore out mine. I will take his life as he took the only one who mattered to me. What do I care for conquest, for grandiose plans? Sarevok is evil, yes. He should be slain, and I will aid Kyllin as she has aided me. But Tazok…Tazok I will kill slowly, if I can. As he killed you. Soon, my Deheriana…soon. The ogre bandit’s blood will flow, for you. Will it be red, I wonder? As red as yours was, red against the brown leaves of the forest floor…but black when it soaked them through. We elves are not meant to end like that, in pain and humiliation. We are the People, the firstcomers, and the shining children of Corellon. Pain and death, ugliness and fear, that is not our way. But it is mine. Now it is mine, until I have avenged you, and the ogre lies dead.


As long as pain and death are anybody's way, they'll be everybody's way. You can't just run and hide and sail away, elves, in Toril or Middle-Earth.


Very true. If you live in the world, you will be part of it.


Kivan nodded quietly to himself, checking his arrows. The quiver was full, and divided into different categories, to help him prepare for all eventualities. Regular arrows, sharp and deadly, made to pierce even strong armour. Fire arrows, and ice arrows. Magical arrows that could dispel the defences of even a powerful mage. Poisoned arrows, that would secrete a deadly and painful toxin into the bloodstream of the one struck by them. And then, finally, his price, his most precious arrow of all. It was black, black as midnight, and the feather was black as well. It was an Arrow of Ogre Slaying, and it would slay any ogre instantly. He had bought his beloved arrow dearly, but it was well worth it. Much as he wanted to slowly peel the skin from Tazok’s back, he knew that he might not have that luxury, and the ogre’s death was paramount. Here is what I will do, my Deheriana. I will look him into the eyes, into his foul little piggish eyes. He will know me when he sees me, and he will fear me. And I will say: ‘I am Kivan Lil’arlin’ellen. You tortured and killed my beloved Deheriana. Now you die.’


My name is Inigo Mantoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!


I *love* that line. :)

I like the best name...yours?


Thank you! :) Yes, it's mine.



Tamoko’s blood was red against the grey and dusty ground, her eyes starting unseeing into eternity as he stepped across her corpse. Red, yes. Though not as red as the soft lips of my precious Deheriana. No, my love, not as red as that.


I see Deheriana everywhere!


He most certainly does...poor man.



Kivan was smiling now, smiling triumphantly. “Hear my words, foul beast! I am Kivan Lil’arlin’ellen. You tortured and killed my beloved Deheriana. Now you die.”


Oh good. Nothing would be worse than stuttering over those lines...


imagine if Jaheira had died instead of Khalid:


(party at Tree of Life)


Khalid: Irenicus! I am K-K-K-K-halid. You k-k-k-k-k-k- slew my J-J-J-J....um, l-l-l-l-, um. b-b-b-b-b-b....um, FUCK IT....AHHHH!!!!! *charges*


LOL!



Tazok slowly toppled, falling off the dais, his heavy body striking the floor with a dull thud. Kivan watched the blood trickle forth, running into the grooves on the floor, outlining the shape of the skull and the tears with deep crimson. Blood and tears for us, my Deheriana. And now for him. He waited, waited for the joyous response of his beloved, for her soft touch against his cheek. Waited. Waited for the emptiness to be gone, for his spirit to soar, for the colours to return to the world. Waited. And waited. Deheriana? My love? But there was nothing, nothing except the battle cries, the screams, the explosions of destructive magic behind him. Within, all was silent, dark and empty. Deheriana? Speak to me, Deheriana. Still she was silent, he could not even feel her presence any longer.


noooo!!!!!


Yeah... :wink:



Silently, Kivan walked across the floor, like a man walking in his sleep, his bow trailing behind him in the dust, ignored. Before him, a giant of a man reared up, eyes burning like furnaces looking down from the gaping maw of his helm. Sarevok’s big twohanded sword slashed at the silent elf, driving deep into his body, impaling him. The pain was great, yet he did not speak, only gasped as the blood spurted from his mouth. Yet Kivan managed to smile a little, despite it all. He was done now, nothing remained. He might as well leave in a purposeful way, accomplishing something. With fading eyes he heard Kyllin screaming, saw her raising her own sword. Saw her thrusting it into her brother’s body, the magical weapon penetrating even his armour before he had the time to pull his own sword free to defend himself.


Well, that's one tactic. The ol' 'neutralize Sarevok by covering his sword with your innards'. Yes, yes, a standard tactic, that.


This is something I can easily see happening to Kivan, one way or another. That is, once he has his vengeance, he has nothing left to keep him alive.


An anti-revenge then message, I take it?


Not so much message...more of an exploration of how I see Kivan. I certainly understand about wanting vengeance, but to me he always felt as if he had let it consume him entirely, so that there was nothing else left, and that will hurt yourself more than anybody.

Very eloquent. Bravo, bravo!!!


Thank you! :D

Poor Kivan *sniff* but I think the will be reunited in Arvundor...tra-la-la-la-la!!


Well, they might. :)
Rogues do it from behind.

#6 Guest_The Blue Sorceress_*

Posted 11 June 2003 - 06:15 AM

Absolutely positively beautiful. I never gave Kivan much thought either, but you capture completely a person consumed by his grief and lust for vengeance. I especially liked the added touch of him sort of hallucinating his beloved (I can't spell her name so I won't even try) talking to him and encouraging him. Makes me wonder if he wasn't just a little bit insane because of how much he focused on his revenge. Anyway, excellent work.

-Blue

#7 Guest_Theodur_*

Posted 11 June 2003 - 07:07 AM

Here's a little something different from me! You see, I got to thinking about Kivan the other day, and decided to try to whip up something about an NPC that I'd never really given much thought before. I hope you'll like it. :)


Hmmm, Kivan... can't say that I cared for him much - I think that someone who is so preoccupied with his personal crusade, is just not going to be a reliable party member... though he certainly provides a lot of interesting angles to explore for a writer.

Soon, it would all be over. The pain would be gone, as would the hatred, the emptiness that had lived at the core of him since that day, the day when she was lost to him. He knew full well that he might not survive the final battle, that it was likely that he would never see another sunrise. It does not matter. As long as I can hear his agonized scream as my arrow finds his rotting black heart, I will die gladly. And scream he will, as she did. My Deheriana…my love. Vengeance will be yours today, at long last.


That's very much Kivan and that is exactly why I find him to be a threat to the other partymembers. In such critical situations he is likely to forget about the safety of his own companions and succumb to his own destructive agenda.

Tazok. Let Kyllin slay her brother, and take her own vengeance for her foster father’s death, for the attempts on her life. But Tazok is mine. I will tear out his heart as he tore out mine. I will take his life as he took the only one who mattered to me. What do I care for conquest, for grandiose plans? Sarevok is evil, yes. He should be slain, and I will aid Kyllin as she has aided me. But Tazok…Tazok I will kill slowly, if I can. As he killed you. Soon, my Deheriana…soon. The ogre bandit’s blood will flow, for you. Will it be red, I wonder? As red as yours was, red against the brown leaves of the forest floor…but black when it soaked them through. We elves are not meant to end like that, in pain and humiliation. We are the People, the firstcomers, and the shining children of Corellon. Pain and death, ugliness and fear, that is not our way. But it is mine. Now it is mine, until I have avenged you, and the ogre lies dead.


Ugh. Mind you it is very natural that he feels this way, but still... it makes me a bit uneasy... Loved how you made his elven pride shine through and the color contrast of blood/leaves was outstanding.

Kivan nodded quietly to himself, checking his arrows. The quiver was full, and divided into different categories, to help him prepare for all eventualities. Regular arrows, sharp and deadly, made to pierce even strong armour. Fire arrows, and ice arrows. Magical arrows that could dispel the defences of even a powerful mage. Poisoned arrows, that would secrete a deadly and painful toxin into the bloodstream of the one struck by them. And then, finally, his price, his most precious arrow of all. It was black, black as midnight, and the feather was black as well. It was an Arrow of Ogre Slaying, and it would slay any ogre instantly. He had bought his beloved arrow dearly, but it was well worth it. Much as he wanted to slowly peel the skin from Tazok’s back, he knew that he might not have that luxury, and the ogre’s death was paramount. Here is what I will do, my Deheriana. I will look him into the eyes, into his foul little piggish eyes. He will know me when he sees me, and he will fear me. And I will say: ‘I am Kivan Lil’arlin’ellen. You tortured and killed my beloved Deheriana. Now you die.’


Well, at least he doesn't plan a long rant. Don't think that Tazok would stay around to hear it out.

There was a woman awaiting them on the steps of the Temple of Murder, and he watched as Kyllin spoke with her, fought her, and killed her. Tamoko, he vaguely remembered the name to be. Sarevok’s lover or some such, was she not? It had been difficult these past few days, paying attention to matters of less importance, now that he knew himself so close to the end of the road. When he fought, then he was perfectly focused, his arrows flying with the utmost precision as they had always done. When he did not, then he retreated away from this world of shades and ghosts, into the real one, where Deheriana awaited him, smiling with her arms outstretched.


As I was saying... he is a liability. The quest for vengeance is actually not something bad in itself, but I see Kivan as being extremely fanatical about it. For example Jaheira on her quest to avenge Khalid, she didn't love him less than Kivan loved Deheriana, yet Jaheira never becomes so overfocused on her vengeance and never stops caring about the PC (in one way or another :wink: ). Kivan's fanaticism scares me, frankly.

When the fight was on, he aided as he could, firing arrows as he stalked his prey, but always he kept the target firmly in mind. Tazok. Nothing else could be more important in the world right now. Nothing. The cries of the fighting humans receded behind him as he found his proper position, and the world narrowed to the pinprick point of an ogre’s red eye.


'fighting humans'... heh, indeed you picked the group that the five others are humans - I don't really understand why. Perhaps to show Kivan as an even more of an outcast in the group, as if noone was able to understand how he feels?

Kivan was smiling now, smiling triumphantly. “Hear my words, foul beast! I am Kivan Lil’arlin’ellen. You tortured and killed my beloved Deheriana. Now you die.”


Ok, so he didn't get killed while ranting, that's good.

Tazok simply stared at him, his piggish eyes registering nothing but utter confusion. Then he opened his mouth and spoke, a single word that broke all the painstakingly constructed walls in Kivan’s mind, a word that tore the old wound in his soul open once again. “Who?”


Oh, that is really insulting, isn't it?

He…he does not remember? I finally stand in front of him, after all this time and HE DOES NOT EVEN REMEMBER? No…it wasn’t supposed to be like this. No. “NOOOOOOOOOO!” Kivan screamed, and the arrow flew from his bow, the black arrow, the special one. It struck that confused red eye, penetrating deep into Tazok’s brain, slaying the ogre instantly.


I'm afraid Tazok really didn't remember for whom he just died.

I am nothing. Nothing. It wasn’t Deheriana who kept me alive. It was Tazok, and the thought, the need of slaying him. And now…he is gone. Gone. I am all alone.


He is definitely obsessed and it is quite as I see him too. Brrr, this is creepy.

Silently, Kivan walked across the floor, like a man walking in his sleep, his bow trailing behind him in the dust, ignored. Before him, a giant of a man reared up, eyes burning like furnaces looking down from the gaping maw of his helm. Sarevok’s big twohanded sword slashed at the silent elf, driving deep into his body, impaling him. The pain was great, yet he did not speak, only gasped as the blood spurted from his mouth. Yet Kivan managed to smile a little, despite it all. He was done now, nothing remained. He might as well leave in a purposeful way, accomplishing something. With fading eyes he heard Kyllin screaming, saw her raising her own sword. Saw her thrusting it into her brother’s body, the magical weapon penetrating even his armour before he had the time to pull his own sword free to defend himself.


Here I feel sorry for him. But I also think that in a way it would be a happy end for him.

“No…” Kivan breathed. It was getting more and more difficult to speak now, he had to ration the words as never before. “Not dying. I died…long ago.” I killed myself. Let the vengeance consume me, destroy my spirit. Nothing left now. Empty. So empty. Wearily, he closed his eyes, exhaling a final time. Deheriana…forgive me.


There was no answer.


*sob*... That was really sad, you know. Vengeance can be so destructive if it becomes the utmost priority and the sole goal of your existance.

#8 Laufey

Posted 11 June 2003 - 07:19 AM

Absolutely positively beautiful. I never gave Kivan much thought either, but you capture completely a person consumed by his grief and lust for vengeance. I especially liked the added touch of him sort of hallucinating his beloved (I can't spell her name so I won't even try) talking to him and encouraging him. Makes me wonder if he wasn't just a little bit insane because of how much he focused on his revenge. Anyway, excellent work.


*bows* Thank you for your kind words! :wink: I agree, I tried to portray Kivan as a man driven at least partially mad by his desire for revenge, and eaten alive by his hatred. Glad you liked it!
Rogues do it from behind.

#9 Laufey

Posted 11 June 2003 - 07:27 AM

Here's a little something different from me! You see, I got to thinking about Kivan the other day, and decided to try to whip up something about an NPC that I'd never really given much thought before. I hope you'll like it. :)


Hmmm, Kivan... can't say that I cared for him much - I think that someone who is so preoccupied with his personal crusade, is just not going to be a reliable party member... though he certainly provides a lot of interesting angles to explore for a writer.


He's never been one of my favorites either. Not that I dislike him, more that I felt that vengeance was all that was left to him and all that mattered to him. Was interesting to get into his head though. :)


Soon, it would all be over. The pain would be gone, as would the hatred, the emptiness that had lived at the core of him since that day, the day when she was lost to him. He knew full well that he might not survive the final battle, that it was likely that he would never see another sunrise. It does not matter. As long as I can hear his agonized scream as my arrow finds his rotting black heart, I will die gladly. And scream he will, as she did. My Deheriana…my love. Vengeance will be yours today, at long last.


That's very much Kivan and that is exactly why I find him to be a threat to the other partymembers. In such critical situations he is likely to forget about the safety of his own companions and succumb to his own destructive agenda.


Yes, I agree. The vengeance, as I see it, is all that matters to him. And his dead Deheriana, who is tied up in the vengeance.


Tazok. Let Kyllin slay her brother, and take her own vengeance for her foster father’s death, for the attempts on her life. But Tazok is mine. I will tear out his heart as he tore out mine. I will take his life as he took the only one who mattered to me. What do I care for conquest, for grandiose plans? Sarevok is evil, yes. He should be slain, and I will aid Kyllin as she has aided me. But Tazok…Tazok I will kill slowly, if I can. As he killed you. Soon, my Deheriana…soon. The ogre bandit’s blood will flow, for you. Will it be red, I wonder? As red as yours was, red against the brown leaves of the forest floor…but black when it soaked them through. We elves are not meant to end like that, in pain and humiliation. We are the People, the firstcomers, and the shining children of Corellon. Pain and death, ugliness and fear, that is not our way. But it is mine. Now it is mine, until I have avenged you, and the ogre lies dead.


Ugh. Mind you it is very natural that he feels this way, but still... it makes me a bit uneasy... Loved how you made his elven pride shine through and the color contrast of blood/leaves was outstanding.


Thank you! :D It's meant to be a bit disturbing too.


As I was saying... he is a liability. The quest for vengeance is actually not something bad in itself, but I see Kivan as being extremely fanatical about it. For example Jaheira on her quest to avenge Khalid, she didn't love him less than Kivan loved Deheriana, yet Jaheira never becomes so overfocused on her vengeance and never stops caring about the PC (in one way or another :wink: ). Kivan's fanaticism scares me, frankly.


Excellent! This is exactly what I meant to get across. I feel truly sorry for him, but his singlemindedness is pretty frightening.


When the fight was on, he aided as he could, firing arrows as he stalked his prey, but always he kept the target firmly in mind. Tazok. Nothing else could be more important in the world right now. Nothing. The cries of the fighting humans receded behind him as he found his proper position, and the world narrowed to the pinprick point of an ogre’s red eye.


'fighting humans'... heh, indeed you picked the group that the five others are humans - I don't really understand why. Perhaps to show Kivan as an even more of an outcast in the group, as if noone was able to understand how he feels?


And he can't understand them too well either, I feel.



Tazok simply stared at him, his piggish eyes registering nothing but utter confusion. Then he opened his mouth and spoke, a single word that broke all the painstakingly constructed walls in Kivan’s mind, a word that tore the old wound in his soul open once again. “Who?”


Oh, that is really insulting, isn't it?


Worst thing he could say.


He…he does not remember? I finally stand in front of him, after all this time and HE DOES NOT EVEN REMEMBER? No…it wasn’t supposed to be like this. No. “NOOOOOOOOOO!” Kivan screamed, and the arrow flew from his bow, the black arrow, the special one. It struck that confused red eye, penetrating deep into Tazok’s brain, slaying the ogre instantly.


I'm afraid Tazok really didn't remember for whom he just died.


No. This, I believe, is often the case.


I am nothing. Nothing. It wasn’t Deheriana who kept me alive. It was Tazok, and the thought, the need of slaying him. And now…he is gone. Gone. I am all alone.


He is definitely obsessed and it is quite as I see him too. Brrr, this is creepy.


Happy to hear it! :) It is meant to be tragic, but creepy at the same time.


Silently, Kivan walked across the floor, like a man walking in his sleep, his bow trailing behind him in the dust, ignored. Before him, a giant of a man reared up, eyes burning like furnaces looking down from the gaping maw of his helm. Sarevok’s big twohanded sword slashed at the silent elf, driving deep into his body, impaling him. The pain was great, yet he did not speak, only gasped as the blood spurted from his mouth. Yet Kivan managed to smile a little, despite it all. He was done now, nothing remained. He might as well leave in a purposeful way, accomplishing something. With fading eyes he heard Kyllin screaming, saw her raising her own sword. Saw her thrusting it into her brother’s body, the magical weapon penetrating even his armour before he had the time to pull his own sword free to defend himself.


Here I feel sorry for him. But I also think that in a way it would be a happy end for him.


I think it is really what he wanted...in a way.


“No…” Kivan breathed. It was getting more and more difficult to speak now, he had to ration the words as never before. “Not dying. I died…long ago.” I killed myself. Let the vengeance consume me, destroy my spirit. Nothing left now. Empty. So empty. Wearily, he closed his eyes, exhaling a final time. Deheriana…forgive me.



There was no answer.


*sob*... That was really sad, you know. Vengeance can be so destructive if it becomes the utmost priority and the sole goal of your existance.


Yes indeed. The lust for vengeance is very understandable, but sometimes it hurts the one who takes it just as much as the one who is subjected to it. This, I believe, is such a case.
Rogues do it from behind.

#10 Guest_Ophidia_*

Posted 11 June 2003 - 07:38 AM

Gosh, what a powerful story! That is how I have always pictured Kivan, and you wrote it beautifully. I love the way it becomes more and more obvious just how obsessed he is, and how he lost his sanity a long time ago. Positively chilling!

And the end was so sad...he gets his revenge, but realises it means nothing, because Tazok killed him long ago. Very atmospheric and deep story- it must have been very hard to write!

#11 Laufey

Posted 11 June 2003 - 08:31 AM

Gosh, what a powerful story! That is how I have always pictured Kivan, and you wrote it beautifully. I love the way it becomes more and more obvious just how obsessed he is, and how he lost his sanity a long time ago. Positively chilling!


Thank you very much! :cry: I tried to portray his deep obsession in a fairly subtle way initially, and then make it more obvious.

And the end was so sad...he gets his revenge, but realises it means nothing, because Tazok killed him long ago. Very atmospheric and deep story- it must have been very hard to write!


Yes...it is sad. :) It wasn't all that hard to write though...this was one of those stories that practically wrote itself.
Rogues do it from behind.

#12 Guest_Rand Al'Tor_*

Posted 11 June 2003 - 10:01 AM

Nice.. I like the anti-vengeance messge, and it really sounds like everyone's favourite vengeance crazed elf talking.

Also like how he's constantly going back to descriptions of Deheirana, really drives the obsession home. And then the anticlimx when he faces Tazok. Priceless. Not to mention how he's kind of walking in daze while the battle is still going on.

Heh, luckily Viconia wasn't in the party (still remembers how he was shocked when they were both in the party and Vic died 'May Viconia's soul ROT in hell')

#13 Laufey

Posted 11 June 2003 - 11:55 AM

Nice.. I like the anti-vengeance messge, and it really sounds like everyone's favourite vengeance crazed elf talking.


Thank you! :) Since I've never written a single Kivan line before, I'm especially pleased that it seems people think I got him right.

Also like how he's constantly going back to descriptions of Deheirana, really drives the obsession home. And then the anticlimx when he faces Tazok. Priceless. Not to mention how he's kind of walking in daze while the battle is still going on.


Glad you liked it! :cry: Yes, I tried to drive home how his obsession more or less blinds him to everything else.

Heh, luckily Viconia wasn't in the party (still remembers how he was shocked when they were both in the party and Vic died 'May Viconia's soul ROT in hell')


Wow...I didn't know he said that.
Rogues do it from behind.

#14 Guest_Domi_*

Posted 11 June 2003 - 03:00 PM

Thank you! :) I wouldn't know about villains in general...but I would think it is only natural to wish for favorite characters to find some happiness.


I'd say not happiness but purpose. What you do in the story is discredit Kivan's struggle, making his life empty and his heart barren. While a great fan of Kivan will see that Tazok is not his singular goal, that Kivan engages into a larger-scale combat with evil, suce as brigands in general, Viconia and your own group if you have low enough reputation. Tazok is a culmination of his labors and rightfully so, since he is a perfect servant of evil - unthinking, terrible, cruel. Distroying such a creature is a reward in itself. As for Deheriana, it is natural to assume that they will be reunited in the afterlife, since the greatest desires of an elf are fullfilled after his departure, and the main premise of Kivan's character is his love and loyalty to Deheriana. The result of both visions will be mostly the same: Kivan will kill Tazok and depart...but your idea of his departure as a desillusioned and unhappy person will be replaced by a perspective of a winner, as a person who had completed his day's job and is ready to be away.

#15 Laufey

Posted 11 June 2003 - 03:19 PM


Thank you! :) I wouldn't know about villains in general...but I would think it is only natural to wish for favorite characters to find some happiness.


I'd say not happiness but purpose. What you do in the story is discredit Kivan's struggle, making his life empty and his heart barren. While a great fan of Kivan will see that Tazok is not his singular goal, that Kivan engages into a larger-scale combat with evil, suce as brigands in general, Viconia and your own group if you have low enough reputation. Tazok is a culmination of his labors and rightfully so, since he is a perfect servant of evil - unthinking, terrible, cruel. Distroying such a creature is a reward in itself. As for Deheriana, it is natural to assume that they will be reunited in the afterlife, since the greatest desires of an elf are fullfilled after his departure, and the main premise of Kivan's character is his love and loyalty to Deheriana. The result of both visions will be mostly the same: Kivan will kill Tazok and depart...but your idea of his departure as a desillusioned and unhappy person will be replaced by a perspective of a winner, as a person who had completed his day's job and is ready to be away.


Well, everybody has a right to their own opinion of course. I wouldn't say that I discredit Kivan though, certainly not on purpose. I do feel sorry for him, but I also see him differently than you do, no disrespect intended. The way I see it, he hurts himself through his focus on revenge, as much as Tazok ever did, so I see him as a tragic character. As for Deheriana...perhaps he will indeed be reunited with her. I deliberately left that open-ended, since the story ends with Kivan's death, not with what happens in the afterlife.
Rogues do it from behind.

#16 Guest_Theodur_*

Posted 11 June 2003 - 03:23 PM


Thank you! :) I wouldn't know about villains in general...but I would think it is only natural to wish for favorite characters to find some happiness.


What you do in the story is discredit Kivan's struggle, making his life empty and his heart barren.


Well, here we go again, yes - I suppose this will lead to another debate where you will end up acting offended and trying to teach the others how we should write your favorite characters.

Let me just say one thing - you completely bastardized my favorite character and made her an utter bitch in one of your stories, I think you know about which one I'm talking about.

Did I or someone else pressured you and tried to change your views, portrayal of that character? No. Nobody did that. I just politely pointed out that I can't see the given character in such light.

Since then, I simply don't read your fanfic, as well written they are - I disagree with most of your character portrayal, that's it. Nobody gets offended, unless you try to force your opinion on someone.

#17 Guest_Hunter_*

Posted 11 June 2003 - 03:27 PM

[quote]Here's a little something different from me! You see, I got to thinking about Kivan the other day, and decided to try to whip up something about an NPC that I'd never really given much thought before. I hope you'll like it. :)
[/quote]

I like kivan.

[quote]
Soon, it would all be over. The pain would be gone, as would the hatred, the emptiness that had lived at the core of him since that day, the day when she was lost to him. He knew full well that he might not survive the final battle, that it was likely that he would never see another sunrise. It does not matter. As long as I can hear his agonized scream as my arrow finds his rotting black heart, I will die gladly. And scream he will, as she did. My Deheriana…my love. Vengeance will be yours today, at long last.
[/quote]

He's rather single minded ain't he.

[quote]
Tazok. Let Kyllin slay her brother, and take her own vengeance for her foster father’s death, for the attempts on her life. But Tazok is mine. I will tear out his heart as he tore out mine. I will take his life as he took the only one who mattered to me. What do I care for conquest, for grandiose plans? Sarevok is evil, yes. He should be slain, and I will aid Kyllin as she has aided me. But Tazok…Tazok I will kill slowly, if I can. As he killed you. Soon, my Deheriana…soon. The ogre bandit’s blood will flow, for you. Will it be red, I wonder? As red as yours was, red against the brown leaves of the forest floor…but black when it soaked them through. We elves are not meant to end like that, in pain and humiliation. We are the People, the firstcomers, and the shining children of Corellon. Pain and death, ugliness and fear, that is not our way. But it is mine. Now it is mine, until I have avenged you, and the ogre lies dead.
[/quote]

Tazok is in for trouble.

[quote]
Yes. Of course you are. As you have always been.

[/quote]

Scizophrenic!

[quote]
No! I will never forget, love! Never! Never.

[/quote]

He really needs to get a focus on reality.

[quote]
There was a woman awaiting them on the steps of the Temple of Murder, and he watched as Kyllin spoke with her, fought her, and killed her. Tamoko, he vaguely remembered the name to be. Sarevok’s lover or some such, was she not?

Lover? I'm not so sure about that.

[quote]
Kivan’s eyes turned in the same direction, his sharp elven sight letting him take in the smallest detail of their features. Angelo, the commander of the Flaming Fist, smiling cruelly.

Hired thug.

A young wizard whom the elf did not recognize.

Stupid mage hoping to ride to glory on someonme elses cottails.

Sarevok himself, wearing a suit of ugly and spiky armour that covered him almost entirely, but his burning golden eyes could be seen clearly, even from this distance.

megalomaniac madman.

He dismissed them all as unimportant. The important one stood to Sarevok’s left. An ogre, far larger than a normal one, very muscular and heavily armed. He wore a horned helmet, perhaps in imitation of his master, and he wielded an enormous club. Tazok. Tazok. Tazok. Tazok.

Target!

The name filled the world entirely, throbbing in his head like a pulsating tumour. That is the same club, my love. The club with which he crushed your skull, crushed it like a fragile egg. I remember kneeling by your side, touching you, trying to put you back together. But I could not. I remember the stickiness on my hands. I can still feel it. Tazok. TAZOK!
[/quote]

Yuck.

[quote]
Kivan was smiling now, smiling triumphantly. “Hear my words, foul beast! I am Kivan Lil’arlin’ellen. You tortured and killed my beloved Deheriana. Now you die.”
[/quote]

Get on with it!

Good story

Hunter

#18 Laufey

Posted 11 June 2003 - 03:32 PM


Soon, it would all be over. The pain would be gone, as would the hatred, the emptiness that had lived at the core of him since that day, the day when she was lost to him. He knew full well that he might not survive the final battle, that it was likely that he would never see another sunrise. It does not matter. As long as I can hear his agonized scream as my arrow finds his rotting black heart, I will die gladly. And scream he will, as she did. My Deheriana…my love. Vengeance will be yours today, at long last.


He's rather single minded ain't he.


That's pretty much how I always saw him. :)


Tazok. Let Kyllin slay her brother, and take her own vengeance for her foster father’s death, for the attempts on her life. But Tazok is mine. I will tear out his heart as he tore out mine. I will take his life as he took the only one who mattered to me. What do I care for conquest, for grandiose plans? Sarevok is evil, yes. He should be slain, and I will aid Kyllin as she has aided me. But Tazok…Tazok I will kill slowly, if I can. As he killed you. Soon, my Deheriana…soon. The ogre bandit’s blood will flow, for you. Will it be red, I wonder? As red as yours was, red against the brown leaves of the forest floor…but black when it soaked them through. We elves are not meant to end like that, in pain and humiliation. We are the People, the firstcomers, and the shining children of Corellon. Pain and death, ugliness and fear, that is not our way. But it is mine. Now it is mine, until I have avenged you, and the ogre lies dead.


Tazok is in for trouble.


Oh yes...


Yes. Of course you are. As you have always been.


Scizophrenic!


Not exactly...but he has some serious issues.


No! I will never forget, love! Never! Never.


He really needs to get a focus on reality.


Deep grief can affect a person in many ways. I see Kivan as a person still locked within his grief, trapped by it.


There was a woman awaiting them on the steps of the Temple of Murder, and he watched as Kyllin spoke with her, fought her, and killed her. Tamoko, he vaguely remembered the name to be. Sarevok’s lover or some such, was she not?


Lover? I'm not so sure about that.


Well, at least she was his 'one true love' according to the ToB epilogue for Sarevok...and even if you don't agree with that, I believe it's pretty explicitly stated in BG1 that both Tamoko and Cythandria were Sarevok's lovers. (And rivals.)


A young wizard whom the elf did not recognize.


Stupid mage hoping to ride to glory on someonme elses cottails.


Semai...

Sarevok himself, wearing a suit of ugly and spiky armour that covered him almost entirely, but his burning golden eyes could be seen clearly, even from this distance.


megalomaniac madman.


He's certainly far gone at this stage.


The name filled the world entirely, throbbing in his head like a pulsating tumour. That is the same club, my love. The club with which he crushed your skull, crushed it like a fragile egg. I remember kneeling by your side, touching you, trying to put you back together. But I could not. I remember the stickiness on my hands. I can still feel it. Tazok. TAZOK!


Yuck.


Yes...very much so.


Good story


Hunter


Thanks! :cry:
Rogues do it from behind.

#19 Guest_Clight_*

Posted 11 June 2003 - 03:33 PM

Oh, wow. Eh, that's it really. Everyone else got first in saying everything else.

Though I will add that it tells much about this character that you apparently got him just right and yet there was nothing there that I didn't already know, even though I've never really played him. The one aspect dominates his entire personality.[/i]

#20 Laufey

Posted 11 June 2003 - 03:34 PM

Oh, wow. Eh, that's it really. Everyone else got first in saying everything else.


Thank you! :) I take it that means you liked it. :)

Though I will add that it tells much about this character that you apparently got him just right and yet there was nothing there that I didn't already know, even though I've never really played him. The one aspect dominates his entire personality.[/i]


*nods* That is my own feeling as well...that he has allowed the drive for revenge to take him over.

Thanks for reading and commenting! :cry:
Rogues do it from behind.




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