[Tancred]

I asked a while ago, asking if anyone had come across any Baldur's Gate fan fiction before... and I suppose no-one has. So, I thought I'd send a bit.

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Tancred had never felt pain like this before. It was everywhere, from the groggy, dull pain of his legs to the ringing in his head to the sharp, dagger-like pain of the cracked ribs. Every movement, every breath brought a fresh wave of hurt, and now, right now, he wished he was dead. His body screamed surrender. Something must have been torn by that last attack; the muscles of his chest felt wet, as if something was bleeding inside. He couldn’t get up. His tears mingled with his blood, and he knew Bodhi was coming for him. At the last, he knew it was all over, but try as he might he couldn’t summon enough breath even to cry out.
The only things left to him now, the only things he could think about, were the pain… and the hate. Try as he might, pure as he was, he could not stop hating. Sarevok had disgusted him, Irenicus had appalled him, but he hated Bodhi. Somewhere, deep in the cold hells, he was sure Bhaal was smiling. There was nothing left of him, nothing that mattered.
*I hope you’re satisfied, Father.*
Tancred managed to raise his head to speak. Jahiera braced herself for the surrender, the end of her hope, and to cry out her forgiveness… but one look at the Paladin’s face was enough to shock her to silence.
There was a scream. Not any normal scream of terror; this was a shriek that chilled the blood. A thin wail that escalated to a bellow of hate, a blast of dark pain that echoed across the chamber, bouncing back and forth from the walls as if that sound could cross the world, and it came from Tancred’s throat.
Bodhi stepped back, her smile vanished. What she saw before her was not the paladin she had tortured – there was something wrong in his face, something wrong in those eyes.
They were red. Not red with bloodlust; these eyes glowed in the light, red with anger. With murder.
Tancred still bled, but where once there was blood a slow, steady trickle of black, warm fluid oozed onto the floor from the gashes and the bruises in Tancred’s face. The vampires watched, stunned, as the paladin’s body stood up, slowly. Something happened to the skin they could see, as it took on an ebony hue; veins stood out stark black against the flesh, and even black, tainted tears streamed from the ruined knight’s eyes. All that stood out against the darkness were those red, red eyes; and a mad, stretched grin.
Now standing tall, the thing stepped forward, towards Bodhi. One of the vampire maiden’s more enterprising thralls leapt to protect her, charging the thing that was – that had been – Tancred, raising his fists to pummel the human into submission. Tancred didn’t seem to notice his assailant; the first flurry of attacks drove the paladin back, but before the vampire could launch a second series of blows the Tancred-creature aimed a punch at the thrall’s chest.
There was a sickening crunch, and the black-blooded fist smashed through the vampire’s ribcage, splintering his spine and bursting forth from the back of the dead creature. Stale, dead blood dripped slowly the floor. The Tancred-thing withdrew its’ hand, letting the pulverised Vampire fall, and sick joy burbled forth from the thing’s maddened lips. The eyes shone bright. With the voice of a dead god, Tancred spoke, the very words shaking the ground and sending chips of plaster falling from the ceiling. At last, after so long a wait, Bhaal had found a voice in one of his children.
'WHO DARES OPPOSE ME?' It was deafening, the voice an almost physical force that drove those who heard it to their knees. The blackened figure spread it’s arms wide, revelling in the sudden feeling of life, the blooded teeth locked in a rictus of savage glee. Tancred’s fingernails curved into claws, the black blood solidified around him, mottling his flesh and covering the wounds. The paladin’s jaw seemed to dislocate, revealing a row of unpleasantly pointed teeth. As the vampires watched, feeling fear, perhaps, for the first time in their unlife, the man in front of them became something more than a mere mortal. A force that had existed since first man had clubbed another to death for a place at a fire.
Jahiera watched all this with fear, yes – but also sadness. The work of the Harpers, and of Gorion, had finally proved futile. She was in no doubt of what she was seeing. She began struggling at her bonds, realising now that this was her only chance. The vampires were about to become very, very busy, and she was sure that neither Bodhi nor Bhaal would let her live.
Whatever happened here, whatever feelings she might have or companions she might abandon, someone had to tell the world that Bhaal was back.

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Tancred

'Tune in next week for the next exciting episode of...'