It took me a week, but here it is. New tags added. This chapter contains a pretty sadistic scene and is mostly what I made up, little actual NWN story. Somebody turns psychopath and somebody gets treated like shit, as I promised ;p. Enough of the warnings, now enjoy !

Word count ~ 5300.

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Chapter 3
Graves and statues

Late night, near the village of Thundertree. He was digging all night, tired, but determined to bury her coffin as deep as possible, so nobody could rob the grave. He bought the coffin on the way, along with some scrolls summoning earth elementals, which he used to carry it all the way here. He kept her body from decomposing so far, but he knew he had to hurry, and so used many means of transport along the way.
He would have paid much for a resurrection spell, but he knew quite well what happened to almost everybody who died without having a patron deity. A cruel fate indeed. It made him all the more depressed, and vengeful. He took out the amulet *Asheera* gave him, and put it around the woman’s neck. He knew she would want it, and part of him felt like he was simply giving back her property. The grave was ready. He put her inside her coffin, and had his summoned earth elemental place the coffin in the pit. He started burying her, but stopped for a moment, and sighed. Calming down, he took off his bracelet, adorned with delicate carvings forming a flame. The symbol of his faith. He thrown it down inside the grave.
Gods did not care after all.
-Love, loyalty… and faith, wasn’t it…If nothing else, I believe I will be able to avenge your memory. And I hope that Kelemvor will at least have the decency to put us next to each other in his Wall.
He continued his work.


A couple of months later.

He paid the barmaid, who smiled, but turned away as he ignored her completely. It was rare that someone in Weeping Willow ordered Evermead, so they probably just wanted to squeeze more money out of him, thinking he was someone important. He then listened, like he usually did. Apparently, there were some problems about Fort Locke, and people where bound to talk about it at inns. And Neverwinter, just maybe, was going to do something about it. Of course, he hoped for a Neverwinter Nine to be sent, but it was nearly impossible. Still…
-So, Marshall Cormick is staying at Fort Locke ?
-Yes, and he is supposed to supervise it until they find the nominal leader. However, that’s not all…
-What do you mean ?
Maenaz suddenly livened.
-Guess who is interested in taking out the bandits and helping to clear the track and find the Fort’s leader ! Sedos Sebile herself !
He started drinking Evermead faster, pulling out a few golden coins to play with, then sighing a bit, walking to their table, and spoke to them, putting the coins in front of himself.
-I’m sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation… Let me buy you a drink and tell me more about this operation.
-Why are you interested ?
-You see, my father is a leader of a small mercenary group, but he is planning to retire. And you know, if I could show my group’s quality to Sedos Sebile herself, I’m sure we would be given a place in the Neverwinter militia. That’s all.
-Well… Apparently they plan to go through the main track, and go west of the fort where they will start looking for the leader of the fort. Then they will go around it, and back on the track, where apparently Sedos Sebile will go back escorted, to make the report at the city’s militia. That’s what my buddy of the Grey Cloaks said.
He thanked them and bought them both a drink, then went back to the table to finish his food and Evermead.
He couldn’t believe his luck.
Outside, some people harassed a dwarf, and somebody went to help him. A fight ensued. He didn’t care, it wasn’t his problem. And people living so close to Neverwinter were probably not worth helping anyways. But then, something else appeared. And their appearance meant someone had trouble.

A few minutes later, inside the inn…

Neither him nor Khelgar were particularly injured from the fight, but the appearance of these beings so quickly after he left West Harbor surprised him. He entered the inn, and was immediately asked for help by an older woman.
-Please, my husband is trapped upstairs… with these dreadful creatures !
-Of course M’lady, we shall help him… There is no need to panic.
They always panicked. Obviously. Even other people in the inn were feeling anxious about the situation. Duergars were not seen in a particularly good way, but the fact that they were supporting beings from a different sphere altogether to attack HIM probably gave them reasons to hope he would leave quickly.
But there was one man completely unfazed by any of this. He didn’t even look at him. At first, the young half-elf of West Harbor had thought he was simply completely drunk… But he would have to be a really wealthy, stuck up, desperate and not too bright aristocrat to get himself so intoxicated with Evermead (because that’s what this man apparently just finished drinking), to the point of being unable to recognize that a bunch of Underdark dwarfs and beings from another sphere of existence were INSIDE the inn apparently with the sole purpose of ripping the head off the man who just entered it.
He had taken a better look at the man. Long hair were not bound by anything, and they were hiding part of his face. The man had a feeling of someone who partially shunned civilization, and yet had an air of dignity, like a man of great ambitions, or someone who already achieved some success.
He kept observing that person. He apparently tried not to stand out to much, but his instinct, though young and undeveloped, told him that this man was nowhere near being average drunkard coming here. Then, the man finally had proved that he noticed the whole situation, and was more than aware of being observed. Their eyes met.
Deep pools of green, attempting not to show any emotion at all – those were either the eyes of an assassin, or somebody who suffered a lot and did not ask for anybody’s help all this time. He quietly admitted to himself that while the man had definitely piqued his interest, he didn’t know if he liked him or not, and that human was behaving as if he wanted to make a bad first impression.
-Hey, man, are we gonna help the guy upstairs, or not ? I could use some warm up !
The black-clad man had started staring at Khelgar before he made a sound, and then looked back at him, his look comparable with the one Tarmas gave Amie whenever she screwed up a spell.
So, an adventurer he was. He smiled at the man, neither slightly nor too brightly, and turned to Khelgar.
-Yeah, right, let’s go.
He took out his handaxe, and went upstairs with the dwarf. Two bladelings kept a man against the wall there, apparently intimidating him. Khelgar let out a battle cry and charged upon one of the bladelings, while he carefully got close to the other.
The creature was faster, and it cut him below the ribs. His handaxe came down on it’s head, but the bladeling evaded, attempting to attack him again. He dodged right, and swept his leg in an attempt to knockdown the creature. It stumbled, but managed to keep it’s stand. An axe attack followed, this one hitting it’s mark, and the outsider hissed in pain. It made a thrusting attack, but he pushed the hand aside, dodging right again.
Then, Khelgar shoulder-charged the creature, throwing it off balance. The half-elf simply chopped the creature’s head off with his axe the moment it touched the ground.
-I would have…
-Yeah, right, I couldn’t stop myself. But your not a fighter, as far as I can tell.
After talking to the woman’s husband, they came down the stairs. Everyone seemed all right, sitting on their places. But when he came closer to Gera, he noticed.
The black-clothed man was gone.


He was always something of a pyromaniac. The way flames destroyed everything in their path, their heat, an illusion of a life, of a sentience… And their beauty, color, and radiance… Something deep in his soul always responded to them. But right now, he felt none of this. His passions were subsumed by a grim, consuming need to exact the most horrifying vengeance possible on everyone who was responsible for Aribeth’s death, his realization of Neverwinter’s unthankfulness and indecency, and his loss of friends that came from traveling – and glory that came from saving the city. He didn’t want anyone ever again to have to suffer on Nasher’s or city’s whim. He wanted the hopes and dreams of the people of Neverwinter to be destroyed, like Aribeth’s, and later, his.
At the same time, he thought about what he was doing as aberrant, terrifying, and out-of-character. It seemed idiotic to him, that he saved the city only to destroy it. He was sure however, it being his first love, himself being a virgin (somewhat annoying considering that if he didn’t deny Nasher and leave the city probably half of the ladies in Neverwinter would be under his feet), that he could never love a woman again, the way he loved Aribeth.
He believed he had to use the entire power of his will to succeed in his quest of avenging Aribeth’s fate, or any other epic quest he would partake in after that, considering he might as well die after achieving his purpose. He didn’t care. His faith for anything was sealed away by his overwhelming feelings of regret, guilt, and anger. Maenaz was a young human, about to reach 24 years of age soon, and while usually detached, when he was passionate about something, when his feelings were stirred by something, it was all he thought about. And right now, his whole will was about to be put into relieving his sadistic desire of torturing, permanently crippling, mentally destroying, or doing some other horrible things, to the one that put his love to death by her own hand. Oh, he wasn’t going to kill her. It would have been too easy.
He saw them coming. He unleashed his first invocation, in order to be able to move around better, and closed his eyes.
-Wer whedaus di wer thurkear, akuech sia mlaen !
There would be no mistake. No failure. Those in his way would die. And she would suffer. Perhaps a worse fate than he had to. He considered burning them with a Brimstone Blast, but decided against it.

Because now, his passion was about suffering. And acid would serve that purpose better.
His glimpse into the future didn’t reveal anybody looking back in a moment. A wall of fire was placed there. A moment later, another was placed in front of the militia’s direction. A stone wall blocked another of their escape ways, and only one was left. The one from which he was coming at them.
-We are under attack ! Protect the Commander !
Poor fools apparently had no idea about whom they were up against. Two of them were immediately slashed by his sword, with one losing his leg, and the other – his head. A blast of acid destroyed any and all hopes of surviving for another three. There were twenty six people in total, but he had watched not to hurt Sebile too quickly. He thrust his sword through the body of another attacker, and then swirled in the sword in his hand, a pirouette in his dance of death, and ripped two other attackers apart.
That left seventeen guards, and one Sedos Sebile.
Her being in charge of this operation proved to have fatal results, as then a group of seven immediately tried to attack him together. It doomed them. Literally.


Sedos Sebile blinked. At first, she fought it was an assassin. Shadowy demeanor, spells… But to have such abilities, and to such a degree ? To her knowledge, only one person in the whole Sword Coast had the power of this kind. Maenaz finally made his move. If Aribeth’s betrayal was devastating, this man’s vengeance would be like throwing half of the city into the Abyss. Unless she stopped him now, that is. She thought she could… before he killed seven of her man with a single blast.
The other guards attempted to shoot him down with ranged weapons. They hurt him, but the damage wasn’t so great. It was like he could predict their moves, more than just instinct, it was some cursed form of insight. She was sure of it – too often he moved before they attempted to strike. But then, the worst started to happen.
He spoke in a cursed language, and a body on the ground was torn into a mess, as a skeleton raised from it. It clashed with one of the guards in single combat, before Maenaz slashed this guard from behind. Then, another, attempting to help, was blasted away. That left just eight guards. She cast Mage’s Armor upon herself, and struck the skeleton down with a barrage of Magic Missiles. Then, she circled around and attempted to backstab Maenaz, but he simply dodged it without so much as looking at her. He then struck her with his elbow, and kicked her in face as she bent forward from the pain. As her guards attempted to help, he bathed them in his acid, firing a cone-shaped Vitriolic Blast at them. She felt fear. No, she was terrified. That man apparently wanted her alive. And she could only guess what he would do with her later.
Five guards.
-Run for your lives ! For all of our sakes, anybody who makes it to the city must report this to Lord Nasher !
A wall was placed behind her guards. He wanted to leave no one alive, apparently. He leaped at one of them, shredding him to pieces. Three others were down just a moment after that, blasted with his cursed energy. One attacked him, but Maenaz parried with his sword.
She struck him in the back with both her short sword and her dagger. He whined in pain, but then, the guardian slashed him through the chest.
Just as her mind glimpsed this chance of victory, as she attacked him again, the Warlock’s hand was placed right beneath her subordinate’s throat. A terrible, gurgling sound, as his body started to get eaten away by the acid. She struck him nevertheless, but he kept standing.
It was like he wasn’t human anymore.
He counter-attacked, and it took all her skill to parry only a few of his strikes. He grinned.
-You and your little spells… You had an average talent for magic. If you spent years on learning it, you could have, like, learned to THINK before you’ve done something.
-I executed her. Big deal. It was Lord Nasher’s command. Maenaz, I thought you were smarter. Not only she didn’t deserve to live, you think you can do anything about the way she was executed, and the way she will be remembered.
She hoped if he would get angry, he would make mistakes. He then corrected her by slashing her through the abdomen.
-Like… You could have thought before executing her. Of the consequences. And you could have thought before using spells on yourself against me.
She felt her magical armor being ripped of her, as he consumed the spell’s energy. He was a monster, after all. She attempted an attack, but he moved away just a bit. Another flurry of blows was blocked, and then he blasted the ground under them with a blast. She felt her right hand being grabbed, and then chopped off. She screamed in pain. He headbutted her, grabbed her other arm, and pushed her onto the wall.
The man proceeded to torture her arm by hitting the wall with it, until she dropped her weapon. He kicked her in the stomach, and forcefully kept her body straight despite the pain. Then, he slightly, but nowhere near delicately, cut her through most of her body, ripping her clothes off. He kicked her dagger away, and slapped her face with her palm, as she started feeling cold on her more and more naked body.
Apparently… This bastard was going to rape her.

Maenaz sheathed his sword, staring at her, and punched her again. He then pulled her on the ground, and took her boots off quickly. Proceeding to tear down her pants, he quietly considered what he would do to her. She struggled, and hit his face and chest in an attempt to free herself. He punched her face again, and then her abdomen, continuing to undress her. Her underwear was easy to take off, but she tried to free herself still, despite all the pain.
-Please… Don’t…
-And what exactly I am not to do ? What punishment do you think I have prepared for you ? – he frowned.
-You… You think I took your woman away… So you’re going to rape me… and… you won’t kill me, because you want me to suffer. Please… I already lost an arm… let me go…
He cupped her breast in his hand. They were typical – neither of over-average size or shape. Her skin was rather soft, and she was athletic, but not very muscular. Built like a gymnast,
-Say that you are sorry. Beg.
-I…
He pinched her. Quietly, he considered whether he could feel any desire towards this woman. He would loathe himself if he did.
-I… beg you… I’m so sorry about Aribeth… If only I knew… Please, let me go…
He was satisfied. There was no lust - only a slight twinge of fear of what he was about to do.
He slowly pulled his hand away from her breasts and to her face.
-Oh my stupid militia commander… I doubt I could ever raped a woman. It’s against what I stand for. But you’re right. You did take Aribeth away from me, and I want you to suffer. You should probably enjoy being touched and looked at, because it’s probably the last time any man will ever do this to you.
-What do you…
He grabbed the wound left over from where he chopped her hand off, and a pale green light shined, as a small amount of acid started eating her body away there. She screamed in pain.
-I would never try to… substitute… Aribeth with you. But since you took away my and her possibility to be in love, I will take your possibility of having a man. And you’ll suffer.
He moved his acid-dripping hand over her abdomen, delighting in her screams of pain. A small part of him was probably afraid of this sadistic glee, but…
-I want you to understand : What I’m doing is only just. I’m alive and she’s dead, and we can never be together. So, you won’t be able to be together with anyone, too. No man is ever going to look at you with other feeling than disgust.
He grabbed her left breast and released another dose of acid onto it. Sebile kept screaming, but after a moment, she was sobbing and wailing in pain, almost incapable of saying anything coherent, only a few pleas for mercy as he was ravaging and deforming her body. As her breasts were nearly completely destroyed and deformed, he pulled out two healing potions, spilling one of them over her wounds and forcing her to drink the other.
-You will live with those. But I’m not nearly finished yet.
His hand moved to her face. A few droplets of acid hurt her lips, eating their way to her teeth and gums. He then smeared the acid all over the way from her mouth to her left eye. Her eyes widened in terror as his finger was just over her eye, an acid droplet on it’s end, about to fall off.
-One eye is enough for you.
She instinctually closed her eyes, but he continued to let droplets fall over her eyelid, until he was sure the entire eye was eaten away. He then put his hand on her stomach, releasing more acid to destroy any part of her body someone might find attractive. Turning her over, he proceeded to destroy her legs and the bottom of her backside in a similar way. After force-feeding her another potion of healing, he continued the torture, breaking her leg in a gruesome, brutal manner. Then, materializing droplets of acid on the end of each finger, he put them in her hair, making her hairline ruined and irregular, till the skin under his fingers was eaten away.
There was probably some way to heal this damage, but there was a chance some parts of her head would be forever bald. He let her drink some more healing potion, and turned her over again, putting his fingers onto her ruined breasts, slowly shoving them down her body, smearing acid into it all the way. She had no strength to scream anymore, and only writhed in pain. He bathed the fresh wounds in healing potion to ensure they stayed as scars. Then, he pushed her away, and raised to his feet.
-Do you want to die now ?
-…
-I will not kill you. Hell, no. Oh, and if you hope anybody can heal the damage magically, I doubt it. I’ve done my best to ensure you both survived and your body “healed” into the state I wanted it. In truth, you’re not really hurt now, only… scarred, and exhausted. In about a day, no regenerative spell will be able to make you regain your former body shape. You will always be like that – misshapen, partially bald, your lips revealing your teeth, and with not a single attractive feature left. No guy is ever gonna stay with you, make love to you – they’ll be too disgusted. Without your right hand, Nasher will probably retire you from service.
Technically speaking, unless you will get a wizard powerful enough, and kind enough, to let you use a Wish spell, you’re completely ruined, and you have lost everything. Well, maybe if orcs or some other savage creatures ever raid the place you live, they will have enough mercy to fucking rape you and knock you up with a kid of a beauty adequate to the new one of his mother, but I doubt it.
-You’re… fucking sick… You bastard… I didn’t… deserve…
-You never deserved anything ! Mercy, love, your position in the Militia, nor my help in Neverwinter ! But you have well fucking earned the treatment I gave you ! It is only fair ! I will never be able to forgive you or Neverwinter, the memory of Aribeth will always be there, crawling in my head… I might never be able to love anyone else… She had a difficult life, and when she finally gained some peace, she had to serve the city, which took her love, and her happiness, away.
When she repented from her betrayal, which was orchestrated and magically ensured by Morag, you people didn’t even give her a chance. You didn’t give me a chance to prove it wasn’t all her fault, and you didn’t want her to have a shot at repairing her mistakes. Aribeth was right to want to destroy this city. You’re right Sebile. You all deserve nothing. But you have earned my vengeance. Your fate is to suffer.
He spoke in that cursed language again, and another skeleton appeared.
-The invocation that creates them lasts about three quarters of an entire sun cycle. In other words, you won’t be able to get out of the cave, and no single average member of the guard can kill my undead minion. Once anybody will be able to get you out of here and take you to the city, your body will be permanently doomed to it’s current state. Unless you happen to be a good buddy of Elminster or something.
-I would have never thought… You could fall so far. I hope they’re preparing a special place for you. Either deep in Kelemvor’s wall, or in clutches of the most despicable fiends of the Lower Planes.
-I know the consequences. But before I die, her memory will be avenged.
Maenaz knocked her out, and fed her another healing potion to ensure her survival. He looked at her deformed body one last time. It was covered by scars, and bags of flesh that were left of her breasts were malformed and irregular in size and shape. One of her legs was broken and placed to make the proper bone regeneration difficult – with some “luck” the leg would forever lose it’s original shape. Her abdomen was scarred, and muscles under it were damaged in chaotic patterns – no one would ever consider it attractive. Her backside was sufficiently destroyed to ensure that anybody staring at her butt would get only the desire to look elsewhere. Her face was permanently destroyed, her lips cruelly scarred and shrunk in three random places, revealing her teeth and gums. Only one eye was remaining healthy in her head, and her entire face was covered in scars. He then realized he barely touched one of her ears and the other was intact, but decided that no pervert in the world would really think that her current ears were making her attractive – especially since she was a human, not an elf. Her hair were also damaged, irregular in length, and she was bald in a few places, blood having leaked over her dark brown locks. Leaving her in the cave, he commanded his undead minion to let nobody enter or leave the cave. Then, the former Hero of Neverwinter turned, and walked away.


Sedos Sebile would be relieved of her duty as soon as she was brought back to Neverwinter, and no cleric nor healer in the city was able to rebuild her body. Her mind was permanently scarred as well – she only said something about betrayal, a “sick fuck” “Malicious bastard” and accused every black haired man with at least shoulder-length hair of insanity, sometimes reacting violently to them. She never got married, nor was she in any romantic or sexual relationship with a man again.


Word spread quickly about problems in Waterdeep. Drows took control of the Undermountain, with Halaster nowhere to be found – he might have died, and might just as well be actually helping the dark elves, only Gods knew. But it wasn’t exactly the problem itself that interested the warlock. The prize was worth it. One hundred thousand gold coins. It was a good amount of money, one that would be useful in the plan he formulated after learning of the possibility of attaining such funds.
Hiring a mercenary band to attack Neverwinter was nearly suicidal, but they would HAVE to use Neverwinter Nine to defend the city in it’s current state. And the more of Nasher’s personal guard would die, the more he would feel that he is in danger. He would make the mistake of increasing the number of guards in the castle, at the same time weakening other places. Should he survive, Maenaz would use whatever founds he could gain to hire a guild of assassins, and preferably, someone in addition, an assassin of great skill, perhaps Artemis Entreri himself, if only he could gather enough money. With him, he would execute both Olaf from the city’s temple of Tyr and members of Nasher’s own family. After that, he might as well throw himself at the castle, with hopes of taking down as many people as possible. There was even a slight chance of killing Nasher himself. If the assassin had been great enough, he might be able to take down Nasher instead of the others… if not, he might be able to fight his way to the throne room or wherever Nasher would hide. One way or the other, Neverwinter would suffer. The plan was insane and it required improvements, and work on it, but it could be done.
So, Maenaz bought a horse, and decided he would not stay in the city’s vicinity any longer.
He rode towards Waterdeep.



A couple days later.

The city of Neverwinter was nearly rebuilt from it’s war with Luskan and the Old Ones. In the city’s park, a statue was built. People who didn’t see Aribeth’s execution, as well as many of those whose family’s were infected with Wailing Death but cured on time, a few he had helped during the siege itself, and Aarin Gend himself, who was given an offer to take a place among the Neverwinter Nine but currently rejected, had funded the building of this monument in memory of the Hero of Neverwinter. In private talks, speeches to people, and through his men, Nasher greatly lessened the value of this man’s help in the city’s protection and victory, placing him as just “one of the more prolific henchmen” and increasing the role of Aarin Gend as well as Maenaz’s companions – Grimgnaw, Boddyknock Glinckle, Linu La’Neral, and Daelan Redtiger, in the whole story. The name of Sharwyn was rarely spoken among those in Nasher’s vicinity, as the bard left the city just after Aribeth’s execution, along with the Warlock, something that Alagondar wasn’t willing to forgive. Other members of this group asked for permission to leave upon hearing of some missions on the Sword Coast and promised their return.
However, many people knew quite well about who really was the hero of the city – it’s just that his departure, and the manner of it, effectively lessened his glory. So now, after a couple of months, no one really talked about the Hero of Neverwinter with any real fervor… or frequency. His memory was only permanently shown in that single statue.
And now, a young half elf, nearing his 24 spring in human years, was standing below this stature, staring at it. The man’s facial features weren’t too visible, but he couldn’t help his feeling that this man was somehow familiar. His exceptional senses told him that this place had a difficult atmosphere, that there was more to this hero than people currently realized, and that this statue was attracting attention quite different than that of the living.
Then, his tiefling companion neared on him.
-Hey Carol, why are you staring at this guy ?
-I told you, don’t call me by last name, especially since it is not exactly “Carol”. Do you know who this man was ?
-Well, apparently, when I wasn’t around, there was this war, and he is some sort of a hero. He got that statue in return for kickin some serious bootie. Why, Mr. X ?
-He just seems strangely familiar… and for a hero, he’s not too often mentioned around here. And you know, Neeshka, for someone who gets called a lot of names, you are being quite a tease when it comes to thinking up new nicknames for me.
-I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. And don’t stare at this guy so much, it’s strange.

He turned away from the statue. A hero, but the aura, the presence, the feeling of this place… wasn’t something he’d attribute to a true hero, a knight in shining armor.
The shadow that the statue cast was far too big for his taste.


Maenaz entered the Yawning Portal Inn, where the person apparently responsible for the rewards, Durnan, the Inkeeper, was welcoming the heroes and mercenaries willing to try and free Undermountain from drow influence.
Nobody here knew about him, he was sure about it, and as such, he was willing to make the risk. After all, it was rather impossible that EVERY city in the Sword Coast denied it’s heroes their prizes.