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[Amilauh]

Hello. This will be my first submission here, I just recently got into the series rather obsessively once more. Just for a bit of help understanding, I'm infamous for changing my portraits CONSTANTLY in any game that there is an editor to do so. I'm an artist (you'll see some of it here eventually) and can't stick with the same one. I tend to hop races too, once I've played a game through in it's entirety. But my main character stays the same, so I found a way to explain it that I'm happy with. I'll be posting the story slowly, there will be fragments of thoughts mixed in with linear plots. There may occasionaly be some A/U crossover with the PC's mother, from one of my own worlds.
All stories in this thread will be PG-PG-13 at MOST. Anything else will get it' own section. Enjoy.

Thoughts on being a Slayer

The slayer really started it.
My name is Amilauh, a Bhaal-spawn. Technically I'm a half elf. More appropriately, I'm whatever the blazes I feel like being.
I had always been able to change my shape, small ways at first..hair length rather then color, a wing here, a hoof there..Imoen used to sit and laugh so hard she'd cry as I'd mutate parts of my body.
Gorion would lecture I'd get stuck that way. A few times I did.
Yeah. Walking around as a pig snouted, assine eared, four armed freak can realllly get to the monks.
I loved it. Eventually, I learned to change completely, piece by piece. Each time I dreamed one of those horribly fascinating dreams that repulsed and drew me in..I got better. I kept it to myself usually. I annoyed Jaheira to no end, always changing what sort of race I looked like so she'd finally just start lecturing me. Her lectures were one of the few solid things I clung to. That and my Imoen. My only friend I still had from childhood, some days I didn't think I could live with out her, this sister of my heart. Of course, someone had to drag me away from the pretty boys when I got too drunk for their own good, right?

But the slayer..when I first changed into that. Everything vanished. I wasn't the slayer you see, I went somewhere else and it took over. I think that's why later on I did have control over it, but using that form hurt. Where did I go while it was killing Bodhi and attempting the same to my friends?
I got to meet 'daddy'.

He's not where I got my looks that's for certain.

He was waiting for me, dressed in fearful armor, shifting from his demented form to that of a warrior from whose feet blood ran like rivers, whose armor would form mouths and scream wails of the tortured..I also realized where Sarevok's eyes had gotten that glow. And mine, when I'm really pissed. He was taunting me, toying with me for having lived so long. All around us the taint flowed like a thick wave roiling around us, a maelstrom of death and viciousness, of sickeningly sweet scent and decomposing forms. I remember looking around, forcing myself to truly see the horrors before me. I'd traveled for so long now, that they all reminded me of some slaughter, some battle I'd been in or witnessed. More then the sight, it was unnerving how little it really bothered me. I felt my lips curve in an amused smile. "I like the decorator."
Father laughed. Not a happy sound, it was a vicious booming death pell, before he crossed his arms, those glowing eyes boring into me. He may have been a dead god, but he was still a god and I was keenly aware from every pore I had that I belonged to him. My soul, my body, my very blood was his. Now that was disturbing.
"You understand. You will die, you will fuel me.."
I think he meant to kill me there, and let his avatar run amok. I'm not tainted for nothing, Bhaal personified not only murder, but vicious determination. That part I did inherit.
"I fuel you more alive right now."
He paused, looking at me. I had permission to speak, but I had to convince him.
"Right now, not only the dead spawn of yours fuel you, but every drop of blood, every death, every body I leave behind..yes? You know I'll eventually die, you know we all will, it's what you planned." I didn't hide the bitterness in my voice, I had no soul really, which I think was why he was letting me talk. Irenicus wasn't the sort to die easily. "Obviously the taint is in more then my soul, and even if I were to die right now my soul wouldn't. He'll change it, and you won't get it then will you? So choose father, let me live for now and send my brethren here to your arms, along with how many others?..I strike down your enemies who come forward hoping to thwart your plans...can your other servants do such?"
"You don't serve me willingly." He pointed it out with viciousness. True. I didn't worship any god, or goddess. What was the point when you knew your soul would not go on? It didn't mean I didn't hold to some of their ideals. But I had a trump card and I played it now, my own eyes flashing.
"Since when, in all of this has my will mattered? I am your fuel, the dust that shall light the fires of return, such you have told me from the start. I do not wish to die though I shall, so in the interim I shall fight viciously, I intend to destroy the others, and unthrone you.." I smirked now sensing his rising anger as the walls erupted in waterfalls of the dead and he roared. "And you will win eventually..so let my determination be the axe that cuts more fuel.."

You know, Bhaal actually can tell some really amusing stories about the other gods. For instance, one is terrified of bunnies..and he'd set headless ones loose in the halls of their temple...
At least I know where I got my prankish urges to torment. I swear I would have left their heads on though.

I think I entered a truce, from what I recall. I was damned already, he knew I was not evil, but I had my moments. He knew evil was not a requirement however, people would come to kill me, and instead I would slaughter them to live. It was enough for the deal. The second time though was a reminder to me that I belonged to him. That was when he started to teach me more..about my powers, how to crush more lives beneath my heel. He wanted me to live at the moment to speed the deaths of others, to hasten his return. He had already been forced to wait longer then he had desired, many years longer. An eyeblink to a god, but an eternity to one who was dead and mortal..and upsurped by Cyric.
He told me of my mother at that time, boasting about all the women he'd had. You know, only when you've an immortal soul and you're father is the god of murder can you argue over whose better at getting people willingly. I told him he couldn't use the power card, and then we really got into it. Father has no taste for good alcohol. He drinks blood usually. From a skull cup, I didn't ever get thirsty. The option didn't appeal to me. I bet Bodhi would have been writhing in eagerness.
I think, in a demented way, he's proud of me. I murder hundreds in battles, I am feared and known, even though I'm good people lock their doors and make prayers against me..and I'm about as promiscuous as he was, but refuse to really feel love with someone, I don't need to hurt people like that. He's not pleased with my senses of loyalty..but he cheerfully reminds me I'll die and he'll slaughter them if I don't anyway.
He actually told me that we'll still have some sentience, what's left of us, the tiny scrap that's keeping me alive without my soul now, will become his avatars. I was shown them, my siblings, all spikey creatures of horror. Like dogs to their master. Some still cowered away, others tried to launch at me, Bhaal watched me fight back before ordering them off. I hadn't..really...realized just how many there were until that time. I couldn't see anything but a sea of glowing eyes and twisted forms of Slayers. Thousands upon thousands. An army of murder.
Some like me he told me, were from other worlds. Some were from other realms entirely, wanderers into the world of Toril.
Like my mother.
He taunted me then, asking if I'd be willing to be a slayer or if he should destroy me utterly. I'd learned at this point he liked attitude, but not the 'i'm going to take over' one. I smirked and told him I'd be his right hand, but he'd have to be careful I didn't slit his throat.
Bhaal happy is very scary for the record. It's when he tortures and maims and murders the Slayers for lack of something else to do. He did the same to me, a reminder that I was 'just a spawn.'
Gotta love fatherly love.

It was after that time however, I realized that awakening my father's heritage so much had also woken up my mother's. I was a true shifter now, and the look on Viconia's face when I was a drow...
I probably shouldn't have startled her. She almost didn't heal me out of spite. Well if she hadn't swung the mace I wouldn't have sliced her in defense. Instinct's a pain.
A dull throbbing pain to the head with clerics.
Learning to use a form is not as easy as changing. It's not like being the slayer, it's not instinct. It's a sort of right foot left foot, left wing...depends on what I am. Imoen still loves to sit and laugh so hard she cries as I fall all over myself and run into things for a few hours until I adjust properly.
Just that now, we have a larger group joining her.

I'm tainted. I'm twisted. I'm coming to want to serve my father as much as destroy him and be rid of this taint. I am not the same I was, I never will be again. I have secret desires sometimes of godhood, others of being mortal. I hide them, so far inside myself hopefully my sire will never know.

When the time comes, Imoen will be the hardest to look at and decide. What shall we do?
For now, I distract her any time we are near a tavern.
Here pretty pretties....