Makings of a Monster
He who fights monsters should look to it that he does not become a monster.
When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you.
The young man could not be more than twenty years old. His head was shaved, though he did have a small beard, and he had a strange tattoo on his bronzed forehead. His plate armor was intimidating, as was he, but his large smile stripped fear away easily.
He was wearing his armor right now, but his smile was missing. Instead a look of grim determination was on his face as his gigantic blade pushed against the ogre?s large morning star. He was hard-pressed against the monster but knew that if he didn?t kill it, it would continue its attacks on the farms around Baldur?s Gate.
Knowing that didn?t help kill it though. He took a step back as the creature increased the pressure against his sword. His sword began to tilt towards the ground and the ogre?s weapon slid down its blade. After a step back he spun around and his weapon came slashing across the ogre chest. The gigantic monster roared loudly and advanced on the warrior, swinging without pause. The armored figure could do little to hold himself against his opponent, each blow rattling his arm, slowly numbing it.
He felt something stirring within him, a deep and white-hot fury. It promised him victory in this battle, if he would only give himself over to it for this one battle. His mind recoiled from it, from the chance of losing control, from the chance of being unable to end the rage. But a part of him whispered that if he didn?t he would die, and the defenseless farmers would die as well. His arm was almost numb; he could barely feel it. He had a dagger in his boot and one of his rings, a ring of energy, he kept in case of such situations. But the voice of his fury told him he could win without those other weapons, and that he could be famous throughout the Sword Coast as the greatest swordsman and hero ever seen.
He almost dropped his sword as another strike came in. He should activate the ring or use his dagger, but he didn?t. The promise enticed him. He gave a loud roar and the next blow stopped short when he seized the weapon by its grip. He lifted the weapon out of the stunned ogre?s hands and raised his sword. The monster barely knew what was coming before it was impaled upon the warrior?s blade. It gave a grunt and fell to the ground, clearly dead. The white-hot fury remained for a moment but he quelled it quickly. Sarevok turned around and walked away.
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A few hours later he was accepting a small reward from the farmers. Though it was no more than fifty gold pieces, he was happy to have helped. And he was pleased to have discovered a hidden strength in him. He had heard rumors of other troubles plaguing the area around Baldur?s Gate He would be glad to help with the problems. His smile returned, but this time it didn?t take away the chilling apprehension. It, somehow, amplified it.
Edited by Kellen, 24 June 2007 - 02:46 PM.
