Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V

Kriv, now an adult, contemplates his life and his future, when he is interrupted by a familiar voice...

Characters and story © myself
Setting material © Wizards of the Coast



The Civilized Savage Part V: Manhood


I hate parties.

Even though this small party was being prepared for him, Kriv still didn’t much care for it. Compared to some of the events Balasar had held at his manor in the past, this get together could be argued as not even being a party. Kriv still was not sure why Balasar insisted upon it, but it wasn’t really bad enough to argue the point with him. Not that he would have won an argument anyway he admitted to himself.

There was at least one consolation to this “birthday party”; seeing Kava again. She had sent word ahead that she intended to be present, but that her duties may cause her to be late. He did not see her often, for her beliefs dictated that she traveled to those in need, but he knew her well. He was also well aware of the fact that he had her to thank for being alive to have this party. So he shrugged off his frustration and decided to make the most of it. At least until Kava arrived, his time was his to do with as he pleased, barring some form of unusual emergency.

At the moment, that meant practicing his dagger technique. The blade had been a gift from Balasar on his last birthday, and as such a visual reminder that this party could be a positive thing, or at least perhaps something he might actually enjoy. The finely crafted blade also symbolized a great many other things, for it was the same dagger Balasar had held to his throat when he had attacked his adoptive father several years ago. It had threatened his life, where it had ended many before, and ended lives since.

Despite his father’s best efforts, Kriv was well aware of his natural inclinations. Many had been the times he had to reign in his impulses, to not lash out with blade or tongue. It still took an effort, but he had mastered it enough to function within society naturally, and even to impersonate others with a magical gift from his father; an old beat up hat that could make others see him as he wished to be seen. With his ability to create a new voice for himself, almost all who knew him thought him a dragonborn. All but his father and Kava.

Now, however, he turned his impulses towards constructive ends. There were those in the world for whom violence is the only tool of reasoning, and others whose depravity defied comprehension by the minds of the sane. Even he, who so many would call a monster, could not understand many of these people. It is these individuals that threaten the cohesiveness, the stability of the human pack that encompasses the city. And it is those individuals that his blade has found.

Few truly needed to be killed however. The knowledge that there was a predator that could hunt them and kill them with little difficulty was enough for many to abandon their chosen paths. Others needed more direct persuasion, which often left stitches needed and very visible scars that weren’t likely to fade for some time. Kriv found it mildly humorous how he is described afterwards, and the rumors that had spread of him because of that. At first, he had not believed such “urban legends”, as Balasar had phrased them, would do any good. But now, having seen people flee before the very sight of him, he realized that striking the mind could be as potent a blow as striking the heart, if not more so. Striking the heart, however, was a technique that was called for on occasions as well.

“Restless?”

Kriv whipped around into a defensive position before his brain realized who the speaker was. He hadn’t forgotten the sound of Kava’s voice, rather his instincts were faster than his mind, and he relaxed his posture with another moment’s thought. Despite their differences, and the fact that he saw her as family, there was that about her that he admired. Though he told himself it was her acknowledgement that the taking of a life was not inherently evil, and that it was at times both necessary and natural, somehow that explanation never fully satisfied him. When he’d finally told of it to Balasar, hoping for answers, he was a bit bemused that all his father had done was chuckle and tell him he’d figure it out eventually.

“I see you haven’t lost your touch,” Kava continued as she walked into his room, her dress seeming to flow around her. “Has father been keeping you busy?”

“He has,” he replied truthfully. “Though I believe it worries him some how frequently he sends me into the night. I am not sure though which worries him more, that there are so many that need to be brought to justice that the law cannot seem to touch, or that I am always the one to dispense the justice.”

“The former, I believe. If he were worried that he was perhaps feeding your…savage impulses, he would find an alternative. That he continues to send you out means that he still trusts you to do not only what you must, but what is right.” She gave him a pleasant smile, the one that always made him feel good though he didn’t understand why. Realizing he was still holding his blade, he slid it back into the sheath he had strapped to the inside of his left forearm. Though he didn’t have to wear the thing all the time, doing so made sure he was always used to the feel of it, so as not to lead to unusual movements that may give away his secret.

“You’re here earlier than expected,” Kriv said, letting a hint of a question enter his voice.

“A run of good luck it would seem,” she replied with an underlying chuckle. “It seems as though Bahamut did not want me to miss this day, and so kept the ways clear. But I suppose that would be flattering myself, as Bahamut does not enter directly in the affairs of mortals unless the matter is grave.”

“So I have learned. And you would have been delayed if others needed your help.” Kriv made his way over to a couch, and Kava soon followed suit. They sat down on opposite ends, and Kriv resisted the sudden impulse to move closer.

“Indeed, I quite likely would have, but the need did not arise, and it is foolish to dwell upon the past and what might have been.”

Kriv gave her a wide grin. “Though it can be good to reflect upon the past to help guide you in moving forward,” he quoted one his father’s sayings.

“So you have been listening,” she said, her smile somehow seeming to brighten. “Never forget those lessons, and they will serve you well. And I should now go and address myself to father; I let myself in and he likely doesn’t even know I’m here. Always into his paperwork now it seems. Do you have any plans for today?”

“Nothing specific today, though I may go into the city and see what the parasites are up to. It has been some time since there have been any serious activities, and that in itself seems suspicious to me.”

“Well, then keep yourself safe.” With a grace he found somehow out of line with her strength while at the same time a credit to it, she rose from the couch and made her way to the door. She stopped as she reached it, and after a moment he heard a slight jingle of metal.

“I believe it is time for you to have this,” she said, and flung something in the air towards him. Kriv identified it as a necklace before he caught it, then cleared the chain off the pendant to see it more clearly in his palm. It was a silver shield, with the bust of a dragon’s head worked in blue at its center; the symbol of Bahamut.

“You have earned the right to wear it,” she continued. “Wear it with pride knowing that, no matter what may lie in your soul, you have a pure and just heart.” With a nod, she left him.

Kriv looked at the little thing, what he would normally see as a worthless little trinket now seemed the most precious gift he had ever been given. It meant that he was no monster, something his heart had not been so sure of not so long ago. Working the chain with his claws, he soon had the pendant around his neck. It felt, so right for it to be there. The one whose teachings led to his life being spared, and so leading to the life he had today, would always be with him.

Maybe…maybe it’s time for me to truly pay my respects to one I owe my life to. Kava and his father would be busy for some time, and now he often went as he pleased, so neither would worry about him. Grabbing the magic straw hat his father had given to him two years before, Kriv donned the illusionary persona of Balasar’s personal assistant, and soon made his way into the streets of the city, working his way to the temple that held within its halls the most faithful of Bahamut.