Of Blood and Glory (Rated M)

[Thayan Knight]

It is easy for man to become as a god. I shall live each day, win my crowd's favor, and show them something they've never seen before. For to be as a god, one need only be carved as legend in the faces of men. - Rhemus Domitianus

Darkness enveloped the villa like a blanket; enshrouded inside the impenetrable darkness Rhemus took a deep breath and stilled the storm that was his heart. The grip on his scythe tightened its leather straps groaning with his strength.

"You have done well... slave." The voice, disembodied, was calm and steady. It was the voice of a woman, clearly, but one could never gauge her motives or age by it. "But it does not change your failure."

A hand colder than the grave gripped Rhemus's chest and plunged deep. Through flesh, muscle, bone, and sinew it bore into him to grip his heart. Its grip tightened and he felt his beating heart grow still and quiet. Rhemus gasped but a moment and then felt the moment of death himself. Quiet and without thought. He grieved that he would die so.

"All that you are, all that you will become, was my doing. Remember as my death taints your dreams so to shall my memory haunt your deeds."

The voice, neither in rage nor in spite, whispered softly to Rhemus as he fell to his knees. The hand did not relent but for a split moment he saw the anchor of his hauntings. As if under spotlight a woman's body clothed in silken red robes lay on the ground. Her flowing white hair as pale as her skin was only barely covering her eyes. Icy blue and wide open. Her lips, curled into a grin, carried tiny dots around their edges - from once having been sown shut. Blood pooled around her from a fatal wound to her back.

She was Myra Sazenka, a Red Wizard of Thay, his charge.

Rhemus shuddered slightly feeling colder; suddenly he felt the biting sting of ice water on his back and thighs.

The sensation woke him from his slumber like a slap in the face. Gasping he sat upright and looked around him. Netted hammocks swung left and right in rows before him, above him slept Cela Aseph a bardess of some renown now running - as he was - from Thay. For seperate reasons they had fled Thay on Caravan coming to Thesk and then leaving again by ship. The Sea of Fallen Stars seemed to have no ports for them and though Rhemus was close to giving up all hope Cela had pushed onward. The Pirate Isles would soon be upon them.

He sighed pushing the damp burlap blanket off of him and looked over, the hatch above him was open.

"Damned sea spray, like the piss of the gods upon my face." He groaned and came to his feet.

The ship rocked lazily being carried upon Umberlee's grace alone it seemed. Several passengers snored loudly while others tossed and turned in their slumber - perhaps they too were haunted with dreams. Rhemus shook away his thoughts and removed his underwear, sighing loudly he wrung out the water before dressing himself in the yellow uniform belonging to the ship's crew. If he was awake, he might as well get to work.

Climbing to the top deck Rhemus was greeted with the stench of bile that permeated over the port-side of the ship. The Dwarf was at it again - loosing his lunch on every side of the ship save the lower deck. That, at the very least, was a blessing.

He looked up to the sky. Seemed a storm was coming. Rhemus enjoyed the rain - warm and inviting though it had changed its ways since leaving Thay the rain was still his favorite part of the journey. He meant to wash himself of failure, but how could he?

Muttering to himself in coarse Mulhorandi he closed the hatch with a kick and touched a nervous hand to his scythe's blade. He had lost everything but her... his steel, his mistress, his death on grip of hand. He would loose his soul before loosing his scythe. Putting a hand to the main mast for leverage Rhemus looked to the horizon then to the Captain. Oh yes, a storm was indeed on its way, a small part of Rhemus wondered if his dream had awakened it.

((warning added to avoid the need to edit content -minion))

[Thayan Knight]

***

Within Eltabbar a wind strong enough to flay flesh from bone kept all but two souls indoors. Where one leaned curiously on a cedar-made riverboat, staring up at a human male cloaked head to toe in a large burlap robe.

The riverboat was 143 feet long and 19 feet wide with a narrow prow and stern; at its center sat a rectangular domicile, no windows, while the ship itself was painted a brilliant gold color. The river boat was named El-Araz, and within the language of Thay it meant "Never to Return" - a message to all slaves who stepped upon its decks for the ship was a slaver's vessel one of the most feared in all of Thay. The captain of El-Araz sighed a moment as he ran his tattooed fingers along his thinly braided beard.

"So? What am I to do with the whelp?" He said in a hoarse voice long made so by the Thayan rivers and sun.

The robed man threw back his hood to reveal a scowling face, upon his bald head the tattoo of a face locked eternally in an expression of agony was carved from the top of his brow to the bottom of his jaw covering the entire right side of his face. No hair covered his face making the tattoo twist with his own facial expressions. As the man's eyes narrowed the Captain grinned.

"Damn you to the pits of hell where your mother laid with enough devils to spit you into the world." Said the wizard while pushing forward a young boy. "Take him, sell him, kill him. I don't care what. The Tharcion has commanded we get rid of him - so that's what I am doing. You'll do well to play along."

Along with the boy, the wizard tossed a bag of gems toward the captain who easily caught them. His eyes, however, were on the boy. Eyes wide with fear and shame, the boy seemed lost but from ignorance to his surroundings. Shock? As the captain scrutinized him further her noticed the boy wore bloodied and tattered clothing that the captain guessed would have once suited a noble's son. No hair covered the boy's head - which meant he was no slave. Then the captain caught sight of the boy's right ear. Pierced with an earring bearing the symbol of his family's ties. House Ezreth Avrak. The captain's eyes widened.

"No... This... This is Daeron Avrak's boy?"

The wizard took a step back before muttering a small incantation which gripped the captain's collar tightly - near to choking.

"Listen to me you half Rashemi devil-bred bastard! You'll not speak of a damned thing. Take the kind orders of our most honored Tharcion. Thrul. Take the mewling shit and do with him whatever sick deeds already rot the bowels of your fetid ship!" Shouted the wizard, red in the face. He looked sharply to the boy and tore from his ear the earring them tossed it to the river before him. "Now, grow some hair on that head of his - he's not a Red Wizard's son anymore. Slavery or Death. You've been tasked to carry the sentence. Go!"

Letting go of the captain the wizard turned on his heels and promptly left through the coming mist. The dock creaked a moment with the oncoming winds, and lightning struck the horizon in a flash which illuminated the dock in hues of purple. The captain, between gasps, looked to the boy, who seemingly hadn't registered the pain of having his earring torn from him.

"Talos has spoken just now boy..." The Captain muttered looking to the sky. "Our ship now leaves, as it always does, along the river of storms..." He said while his eyes studied the young boy. "You've a name whelp?"

The boy, not older than nine winters, looked to the captain as another streak of lightning illuminated the night sky. His grey eyes shown like diamonds in a darkened cave. They narrowed and with a voice already trained to give orders he answered calmly.

"Rhemus."

***

"Steady her lads! Steady her!" Shouted Captain Zardon as another tall wave of ice cold water went over him.

Dark as pitch was the sky, and only the lamp oil and strikes of lightning seemed to allow any light to exist at all. Rain poured like a hail of daggers upon the ship's crew and in the midst of it all only one man bore a smile.

The crew of the ship ran here and there, from stern to prow, and all side between. The rigging was giving way to the blasting winds, and twice now had the main mast nearly caught fire from a streak of lightning passing too near. If lightning struck - all new they would be lost to sea, or worse. Captain Zardon shouted again and it was within short order his commands were missed - for lightning had struck. Not the ship. Not the masts. But the helmsman.

Hitting the man square in the chest and sending him flying into the air and onto the water, all upon the decks saw it as clear as if it had happened during the clearest day. Captain Zardon rushed toward the steering, dodging loosened barrels as if he'd done it all his life. Tinn Longbeard, leaned on the rail and lost his diner just before shouting.

"We're doomed!"

A laugh was heard as loud as thunder and eyes were upon the man many on the ship had come to call "Steel". Standing at a stunning height of six feet and seven inches the man was cut from adamantine and stuffed with diamond; his muscular body was lean, and well fit for his height. His hair was as wild as the wind, braided in some parts and held together with human finger bones, a tinge of red in it which made some wonder if it had been dyed with the blood of many kills. Eyes so grey most - upon first seeing them - assumed he was blind.

Despite those features however, what caught the eyes of many were the deeply etched scars on his right arm from shoulder to finger tip. Intricate lines so maddening one's own mind fought to focus upon them. Where once they were painted a crimson red however, they seemed to darken to black the further from Thay he went.

"Rhemus!" Shouted Tinn as he belched the remains of his bile. "What're ye laughin' at?!"

Rhemus shook his head a moment and looked out toward the horizon. They weren't clear of the storm yet - but they were close. Rhemus would not die at the hands of Umberlee, or Talos. No. He would die in battle - or not at all. Winking to Tinn he ran toward starboard...


... and dove into the icy waters.

[Thayan Knight]

***

"No!" Cried Vaslerie as she turned on her heel to leave.

Captain Hokkim's arm shot out like an arrow, his hand firmly gripped upon her bicep. With enough strength to tear a door from its hinges he pulled Vaslerie to him and with his free hand held her by the neck. Eyes met each other, hate and love both a storm raging within, and as they stared deeply into each other's eyes there came an understanding that no games would be played on this evening.

"Vaslerie, you have to understand I can't." Hokkim said his voice sounding defeated.

"Why not?! I've seen you drink the blood of your enemies... why, you once ripped the balls off of a man and fed them to him. So what stays your hand from -"

"He's a child!"

Hokkim's growl was intense, a primal sound of bottled chaos and disorder one of the many signs of his tainted birth. Letting go of Vaslerie he turned to face the open arches which were his only escape from the look of disdain on her face.

High atop Tower Unthress, was he and oh how often did the idea that a halfbreed dared creep into such sanctioned halls made him smile widely. Today was not that day and he sighed with regret for it. Made of volcanic glass and marble the tower was an architectural marvel like none other in the Realms. Standing taller than most treants, the tower took an octagonal shape. Arches as tall as ogres decorated the outer halls, all of them carved with intricate patterns of rich and vibrant colors. Domes of varying size rounded their way from bottom to peak - each one of them a room to pray in. Hokkim was standing but mere inches from falling to his death, and the view was worth the risk every time. Eltabbar's canals and roads could be seen as clear as if they had been carved into his hand. Colors more beautiful than the setting and rising suns gleamed brightly over the harsh Thayan light. The sparkling waters were like diamonds to his eyes and for a moment he had forgotten he had turned his back on a rather deadly woman.

A soft chuckle from her lips let him know she realized it to.

"... You can not ask me to take him in. T'would be treason Hokkim." She said, a slight bit of regret leaving her tone.

Hokkim wondered how much of it was false.

"Then where Vaslerie? Where do I take the son of a man who had the potential to free Thay? Where do I take the whelp of a man who was greater than any that has come before or will continue onward? I ask because I know of no place save the very seat of his hous-"

"No! Don't you dare! You speak more than blasphemes and treason Hokkim and by the Willing Whip I won't allow it. His father, mother, and brothers are dead - no one to claim the House's seat. No one but he and he's been stripped of the only thing to prove that fact save a mind read, and no one would dare. Thrul has beaten his enemy and the allies of you and I. See past this. Dispose of the child in anyway you can... or are willing to."

Her words stung Hokkim like the very whip she carried at her side - only, it did not illicit a moan from his lips and a cry for more. Instead he turned to look at her. Eyes glowing from the radiance of the sun, that which strangely enough he drew his power, and right hand upon his falcion's hilt he wondered why... of all the women in Thay... could she dig into him so.

Vaslerie heard that voice again, the once she'd been trying so hard to fight. To kill. The voice that begged she ease his suffering. She was growing weak and if it was Hokkim who had planted the seeds then there was only the course of hazing the field that was laid before her and yet she could not. There was a man ten times greater than any - and she found herself letting up to his plea.

"I can't take him in Hokkim. What would that accomplish anyway?"

"Vaslerie... have you no sight at all? Look deeper, do this, and see what I know to be true."

She sighed and crossed her arms. Looking out into the horizon she knew where Hokkim's ship lay. Her eyes closed and as her lips moved through the archaic tongue of dragons' past, she felt herself grow light. The floor beneath her feet was gone, the heat of the sun upon her skin vanished, and the smell of Hokkim's flesh stripped from her senses. When she again opened her eyes she saw the boy, chained by ankle and wrist, and sitting calmly on the floor of his cell. Two men, also flesh for the slave markets, leered at him in such a disgusting manner that Vaslerie wished she could turn away. The two men, thin and haggard, frail even moved toward him - one of them brandishing a shiv. The boy did not cower, nor flee. He merely looked into their eyes with his own glassy grey and lunged at the one wielding the shiv.

The boy had managed to bite off the man's nose and spit it to the ground before he tore the shiv from the man and dove it into the man's eye at least three times before waving it at the other man. The second attempted to snatch the boy off of his partner but was met with the boy's index and middle finger both of which hooked into the man's nostrils and forced his head upward. Exposing enough of his neck to let the shiv handle the rest.

By now the boy, covered in blood, was sitting calmly once more against the cold of his cell's corner. The two men, near death, were simply at his feet.

Vaslerie turned her eye away from the scene and came back to her body - she was in wonder that such violence could exist within one so very young. Usually it took years of training, but here this boy was... already killing like a man. Looking to Hokkim, she wondered if he had placed the pedophiles in the cell with the boy to prove a point. This was Thay however and the point, though clear, would remain but a whisper. Cursed to carry no weight.

"Hokkim... I stress again, I can not take him. Here he could do alot of damage. Rise to a position of power - I am sure he's been tested and if he gains any magical potential I fear-"

"Hmph. What is fear for a priestess of Loviatar I wonder..." Muttered Hokkim under breath, now it was she who wished to escape the look of disdain.

"To what end Hokkim would you have me risk it all?"

"A rage like that can consume a man and forge him into a great weapon or melt him down to shit. He knows what has happened, his mind is sharp enough to understand the consequences... and the rage of it. Give him a place to feed that anger. To let loose upon the world... to be forged into a weapon. Against Thrul."

Vaslerie could not contain her grin. Hokkim, were he not lowborne, and of tainted blood, could have been a great man. A general. A Tharcion... perhaps more. Yet here he was ever plotting and scheming with the best of them but too low on the social ladder to be recognized. They both had grown in power and prestige - moreso she among the politicians of Thay and moreso he among what mattered most. Thay's markets. Now he was asking her to set loose a hound, that it might track down Thrul and... what?

"Hokkim... were he to be trained within these halls, I admit, would be a marvel. However he poses a threat even as a child to Thrul. Were he to be sent to the academies... more a threat than any and you have already been implicated. That Red Wizard would have gone back with a report, any move to put the boy into a position worth a damn will alert Thrul. If... if you must allow the boy to live with some hope that he will someday gain enough strength to topple the tyrant, then, it can not be in a place where he will be watched closely. A place where he's seen as nothing important."

Her words were of sincerity and truth, and she hated every syllable and vowel. Her own tone had become more understanding having too hoped that House Avrak would lead Thay into a more promised tomorrow. She sighed and strode toward the archway which had always seemed to catch Hokkim's attention, leaning against it for support, she looked to Hokkim and fought the urge to touch him.

"Vaslerie... I know of no place that would allow him to grow as a threat to Thrul without ever catching the man's eye."

"Yes you do Hokkim. You know it better than any man alive now or dead tomorrow."

Hokkim knew, in an instant what she meant. Let the child feed his anger with blood and pain. Let the boy grow into a man so consumed with vengeance he'll kill a hundred, a thousand, tens of thousands just to rise to the top... Let the man become a threat to Thrul while the very Zulkir himself applauds the man's triumphs. Oh yes, Hokkim knew very well what Vaslerie meant. He knew then why he would lay with her, feel her whip caress his flesh, and stay the eve despite the dangers of their union. She was deceit incarnate... and he the instrument of wickedness given form. Looking once more to the great city Hokkim nodded, his lips parting slightly to say silently the words he could no longer bear to hear.

'The Lanista... The Ludas... The Arena.'

***

"Rhemus!! Get off of him!! Rhemus stop!! RHEMUS!!!!"

She screams like a wild woman and all I hear are the cries of the man whose eyes are turning to milk under my thumbs. She grabs me tightly by my shoulders to pry me off but I feel it not. I feel instead his undulating body, quivering flesh, and struggles for life. The ocean waves crash upon the deck like a whip on my back but I do not taste the salt of Umberlee's tit. Instead, it is blood. Blood my only wine.

I am back home - where I can kill, fuck, and drink to my heart's desire... it is only when a heel finds itself across my jaw that I realize.

Home is mine no longer.

Rhemus had managed to utterly destroy the human male's eyes with his thumbs, and bitten his pinky and ring fingers off as well. Cela had done all she could to pry the enraged warrior off of Justaine the ship's master rigger. She had no strength in her to do much and even her magical songs were of no use to sway the man from violent to irritated. She had opted to call the Captain who proposed the only solution he had - Order the Quartermaster to land a blow against Rhemus.

It worked, and now Rhemus was within the brig. Hanging by his wrists from the ceiling, his ankles weighted with lead balls attached to a chain. The crack of the whip which echoed down the hall however was not followed by a scream, cry of mercy, or even grunt. Laughter, actually, was all that could be heard of human breath.

"Think maybe you should rest yer right arm there Quartermaster. Ain't no reason ya need break yer back over little ol me." Chuckles Rhemus, ending the sentence by spitting blood to the floor.

Quartermaster Ergraine was indeed tired. Thirty-six lashes and still no sign that Rhemus had felt any pain at all. Wiping his brow he shook his head and spun Rhemus around that they might see each other face to face.

"Why did ye do it mate?" Asked the Quartermaster between bated breaths.

"He raped the cabin boy, beat the poor thing to shit too... I reckoned he needed a real man to put him in his rears." Replied Rhemus with a bit of mirth before adding. "How's he doin' by the way? Itchin' ta fuck a few more boys is he?"

Ergraine landed a hard blow with his left fist, and he swore he heard his own knuckles splinter. Rhemus had taken the blow and winced, was his nose broken? Before spitting more blood to the ground.

"Ye have no right lad. None a'tall! He be our master rigger, we can't be replacin' him... a cabin boy? Some shitty boy whose all but meat? We be replacin him with a thousand others!!!" Shouted Ergraine.

Rhemus's eyes narrowed and his head straighted, he gave the Ergraine a look so grave the man felt his knees weaken and an apology already forming in his mind. Those grey eyes of him weren't natural - most men with that color couldn't see at all, or were cursed never to know the colors of the world. Rhemus had neither of those traits, and if his girth wasn't enough to intimidate someone then it was his eyes for certain.

"I'm sayin' this once so ya understand. I ain't a man ta claim right or wrong, but I know what ain't to my likin' - I gave the rigger ample warnin that if he touched the boy I'd reach into his head and rip out that sick mind of his. He ain't listen so I tried doin' just that. Boy ain't right regardless so it ain't make a difference but I made my peace by holdin' to my threat."

Ergraine felt himself take a small step back, already had Rhemus broken the nose of the crewman who chained him and Ergraine wasn't about to fall to that same fate. Not when it was clear he had hit a nerve. Odd really... he hadn't thought there was one.

"I'll handle the riggin' but I reckon there's more to a master's work than what I know. Show me and I'll keep pace till we put port."

Added Rhemus after some shared silence between the two of them - Ergraine was convinced Rhemus was weighing whether or not he could stand to kill the quartermaster. Exhaling deeply he nodded and spun Rhemus back around.

"Either way mate... there's 64 more lashes ta go. Can ye handle that many in one night?"

Rhemus smiled, his head shaking slightly at the notion that a hundred lashes could put him down. "I ain't some pup from off some whore's cunt. I'm Rhemus Domitianus... and I aim to drink pain like a fine milk off of Sune's tit - now quit yer yappin and get back to work."

The Quartermaster hesitated a moment before striking hard with the whip once more.

37.... 43..... 56.....

The night went on, the only sounds from the brig that night the laughter of one man and the crack of the Quartermaster's whip.