I Cannot Allow You To Do That

As a young boy chasing dragons with your wooden sword so mighty

You're St. George or you're David and you always kill the beast

Times change very quickly and you had to grow up early

A house in smoking ruins and bodies at your feet

You'll die as you lived in the flash of the blade

In a corner forgotten by no one

You'll live for the touch, for the feel of the steel

One man and his honor

The smell of resigned leather, the steely iron mask

as you cut and thrust and parried at your fencing master's call

He taught you all he ever knew to fear no mortal man

and now you wreck your vengeance in the screams of evil men

You'll die as you lived in the flash of the blade

In a corner forgotten by no one

You'll live for the touch, for the feel of the steel

One man and his honor

- Iron Maiden: Flash of the blade

Sarevok was strolling the familiar streets of Suzail, his heart heavy. The rest of the poor children had been taken to the temple of Tymora. Ali had protested, not wanting to part of Sarevok, but he had explained that it was necessary. Chances were that something unpleasant would unfold once they started capturing the clients of the slavers, and it would be better if Ali was not there to witness that, even though they could protect him. Tamoko... wonder if we would have had a girl or a boy first? Not that it would matter the slightest... and who knew, perhaps they would have been twins. The large man smiled bitterly. He remembered the late Lord Marshwall referring to Kara-Turan children as 'a brand that was lacking from their repertoire'. The red, blind rage tugged him again.

Was what I did just? Was it good? I slaughtered him because I enjoyed it, to tell the truth. Am I but a hypocrite, still just as bloodthirsty and savage as I was at the height of my madness, now only concealing my evil basic nature even from myself by gilding my motives? Certainly the man was disgusting, and truly evil in his callous disregard for the life of the innocent beings he should help and protect instead. But does that make it more acceptable for me to slaughter him because of my own frustration and anger?

Sarevok could physically see Peri's face and hear her saying: 'Shove it, Sar. Who cares? He had it coming,' then hugging him or squeezing his arm. Dear sister... but Peri didn't understand. Not this. That Sarevok's quest for redemption must not be superficial. That he must really be hard on himself. There was so much to atone for... so much.

Sarevok became aware of his surroundings when he was passing a guardhouse and an agitated messenger, eyes wide with fear, rode there. Many people recognized Sarevok, but no-one approached him. What he saw in the eyes of the people was primal fear.

- "... there! There is an army, a whole invading army! They are here in half an hour! They have been..." the messenger babbled to the guards, wheezing for breath. "They have been marching under invisibility spells, they are orcs..."

- "Get the captain," said one of the guards, his face grim. "How many?"

- "Countless!" wailed the messenger. "They will kill us for sure, rip Suzail in pieces!"

- "This is not good. The knights are almost all up north..." said the guard, sounding like a man who's heart is sinking.

The agitated captain approached and was briefed on the situation. He cursed silently and his face fell pale.

- "Go to the court immediately," he said to the messenger who took off.

- "There must be a traitor in Suzail. Whoever is behind this knows that the knights are up north dealing with a Zhentarim situation and that we have only the basic defender garrison here. Torm give us strength to fight bravely," the captain continued, mentally substituting 'fight' with 'die'.

Sarevok approached the man, who looked at him with open hostility.

- "I would help you," Sarevok said. "I am a warrior of no small ability."

- "True. On the other hand, you are a madman who slaughtered many and sought to wash whole the Sword Coast with blood. I know you, Sarevok Anchev," the man answered bitterly, not being fearful as he imagined he would be dead soon anyway.

- "We have no time for this. I seek to redeem myself. Give me a horse. I can not guarantee its safety though."

The captain laughed bitterly.

- "Go ahead and take a horse. The stables is right there. It is not as if I can prevent you."

Sarevok went without a word. The docks were at the other side of the city. No time to send for his companions. He rummaged his Bag of Holding and dug out his best battle gear. Then he chose a strong, yet agile animal and rode to the fields the messenger had described.

The invading army seemed gleeful and in great spirits. Yet the orcs were organized and disciplined for their kind. Yes, someone definitely was behind this. But Sarevok wasn't really interested in that now.

- "Halt!" His voice boomed, and he regarded the surprised orcs regally. "Turn away and go back whence you came from. You really don't want to face a battalion of the most renowned knights of the realms."

- "Har! Nice try but we know there ain't no tin-cans in the city!" laughed a platoon leader. "Get lost! There be a lot of loot waiting and wenches to rape!"

- "I can not allow you to do that," Sarevok said in a very mild, peaceful tone. The rage was tugging him again. "Again I ask you to turn around and go away."

There was no other answer but a crossbow bolt clanging uselessly on the plate of his armor. The troop cheering its battle cry, the mass approaching him gleefully.

The rage. The red-hot blood burning in Sarevok's veins. He felt as if he was gliding on a current, so fast, so strong... he was full of emotion, his body like a wonderful machine in its deathly accuracy and massive blows it was able to deliver. It was art... a heated dance, not unlike the dance of making love when emotion and passion was at its highest. Sarevok smelled blood. It stirred the beast in him, all his senses working tuned so fine, the rush of his blood, the pounding of his chest. It took a long time but Sarevok tired not. He laughed, slaughtered, dealt death. A force of nature raged inside of him. His deep, dark laugh echoed inside his own skull, drowning all other noise.

Suddenly emptiness. What... the remnants of the horrified orcs scattering, running for their lives to safety. Bodyparts everywhere... moaning of the wounded... Sarevok himself awash with blood, his sword completely crimson. He licked his lip. There was splattered blood too. He turned slowly around and saw a small troupe of city guards, who apparently hadn't taken part in the fight. They stared at him, stunned, looking every bit as frightened as the scattering orcs had.

- "You... just destroyed an invading army. Single-handedly," said the captain of the guard in a listless voice.

Sarevok nodded. It seemed to be so.

- "I apologize for what I said earlier. You saved us. You saved Suzail," the captain continued, but still he looked more frightened than grateful.

Sarevok's heart was even heavier than it had been.

- "Please go now," he said. "I would be alone for a moment."

The men nodded profusely and went away. Sarevok regarded the carnage, the heavy stink of the blood, the moans. No matter the labels, he thought, I am still a mass murderer. I am a being who is born to kill and deal death. Despair gripping his heart, he dropped to his knees and cried like a child.