Character Teasers

[Eldwen]

The streets where as gray as always,Hope's lost was quiet with the night…or day, never was it certain what the time was, only that most slept at this unholy hour. Kormak Iothgix however did not sleep

There where things to find, spikes to collect, and work to be done. The Small kobold moves the streets in his rags, he could have worn one of the many leathers he makes. But why waste what can be sold for the work tonight? The finds this night have already been lucrative, some sturdy threadbare cloth, several metal nails and arrow tips; even several lengths of leather strips. The kobold let his blue eyes look around the new alley of the night, what would he find this time? What could he make with it? all idea’s of creations flow through Kormak’s mind as he begins to walk along the dirt street. The figure keeps walking forward, looking to the tall walls on each side…

Something big was at the end…very big. Kormak rubs his eyes once, thinking perhaps the time had past him, and his lack of sleep was catching up to him, but no… at the end of the alley was the body of three kobolds, and a Stag Beetle. His kin where stripped to nothing, which was only to be expected in this town. But the Stag beetle! Kormak walked forward to examine it closer, it was a dream…it had to be, this Stag was killed by a bolt in its venerable eye socket. The kobold lets out a grin, the stag beetles body was mostly intact, its hard carapace still unscathed, this Stag beetle could mean gold…a lot of gold, but how to move the body? Work had to be done to even budge this stag beetle. Kormak looks around desperately to find something to ease his struggle…but nothing in the small alley street presents itself to be used to carry the corpse away. Shaking his head, Kormak drags the stag beetle by its horn, fighting for every inch that he gets the dead creature closer to his hovel. After what seems like an eternity Kormak returns home, the stag beetle resting in the center

“Now what can I do with you. . .”

[Kraid]

Nuc's fingers moved nimbly through the nearly absolute blackness, tracing over the cooling carcass before him.  He worked quickly and carefully with a stone knife, removing skin, fat, and connective tissue, working down to the still-warm muscle.  Even that was fatty and poorly toned, but meats were a rare enough treat for Nuc, and the grumbling in his belly wouldn't permit him to pass up this unbidden gift.

This one had probably been a merchant.

Nuc wasted no time taking the edge off his hunger.  Meal taken, and with a few cuts packed away for later, he unwrapped a small parcel from his satchel, revealing a bundle of feebly luminescent fungi with which to survey the scene.  The body--what was left of it--had been a human.  The wounds looked to be made with arrows.  Ket's work.  As expected, the body was picked clean of anything of value, even the clothes.  No doubt he would soon see his kin glorying in their new fortunes, using sharp new utensils, trading away fishhooks, plying the fabrics to new uses.  Courageous Hest, Cunning Ket, Fiery Vax... maybe this was the work of one of them, maybe all.  They would share the loot regardless. 

But never anything for Sickly Nuc.  He only slowed them down anyway.  More often, they pressed ahead without him, and he lagged behind, surviving on whatever scraps of peels, offal, or chum they left behind.  He chewed a strip of triceps thoughtfully.

There were two other bodies lying in the dusty dark, and these gave him pause.  The first, unmistakably an Elothi, was puzzlingly unspoiled.  Had they feared to touch it?  The third corpse was a dessicated husk; perhaps this was not the first time his kin had used this particular side tunnel to hide bodies.  And yet footprints in the dust suggested that this corpse had been moved recently.  Nuc crept over to the bodies carefully, fungal torch outstretched.

Fresh blood, clotting between the teeth in the yawning, yellow mouth of the husk man, testified that something had gone wrong during the ambush.  Inexplicably, this corpse had... bitten someone?  Uncomfortably aware of the lingering taste of iron in his own mouth, Nuc turned back to the Elothian.

This one was also a human, with sunken, anemic features, and swaddled in robes.  Most curiously of all, his left hand was a withered claw, not unlike the husk man's hands, and it was still clutching a gemmed amulet of some kind.  Nuc furrowed his brow as he pried the bony fingers with his knife.  Rigor mortis had not yet set in to the bodies, yet this hand refused to yield its treasure lightly.  At last, after removing two of the fingers, and with a sideways glance at the alarmingly tenacious limb, Nuc pocketed the artifact. 

He searched through the rest of the Elothi's belongings.  A book, a scroll, another book, all filled with alien letters.  Skimming to the occasional uninterpretable diagram, Nuc gradually noticed growing waves of vertigo washing over him.  There was a tickle at the base of his brain, a twisting in the pit of his stomach.  A mute yearning began to bubble up inside him.  Absently, he gathered up the Elothi's belongings and returned the glowing fungus to his satchel.

He instinctively felt that these documents were far more valuable than all the sundries his kin had scavenged from the caravan.  He couldn't yet understand the words, but he knew where he might learn the language.  He would bid no farewell to his kin.  They would assume he finally succumbed to illness, or was overwhelmed by the wildlife, surprised only that it took this long.

He had heard only stories of the mysterious Warrens, but now he felt compelled, whether from within or without, to make the journey.  Cutting one last mouthful of meat to chew on the road, Nuc shuffled into the inky darkness, worrying the Elothian pendant over and over between his fingers.

[Gothic Rose]

Seven Years Ago...

Their filthy lips moved, and his steel eyes watched.  The stone cell was dank, dark, and dripping, with mold growing in the corner, covering a suspicious lump that the dirt and blood encrusted man suspected was the remains of the former inhabitant.  But he cared not for the smell of rot in the air, nor the chill in his bones.  He was Volsk and he cared nothing for the cold, nor the pain in his temple where the crudely stitched wound which still throbbed in agony. 

Algrim had come to grips with his situation as well as any man of his people would have - he had promptly tried to throttle the physician that had mended his lacerations.  He had meant to throttle the life out of the worthless, dirty beast, but guards had reacted - at the time he hadn't seen them, but they made their presence known with their foul, pawing hands.  They had held him down, and the chirurgeon had continued on with his work, mending the warrior.  Through it all, he had resisted, and never once had he cried out, save in anger.

Now he was quietly watching the vulgar words flow from the two guards' mouths.  They thought he was still unconcious - for he made no sound, and moved no muscle.  His eyes simply watched, his face slack, showing not the pent up, boiling rage within.  The elves, had they paid attention, would have seen the large warrior sagging against the wall, eyes open, face slack, dirty blond hair hanging lank about his face.  But he was smarter than they - he was studying them already.  Watching.  Learning.

After a time, he understood that the dark eyed beast was named Yen'eleth.  The blond haired beast was called Telanthias.  He was younger than Yen'eleth, and probably the junior in rank.  What they spoke to each other of, Algrim did not know.  He knew simply that he was their captive, and he would either be executed (which he hoped for sincerely) or they would break him and make him their slave (which seemed the more likely scenario, since they had taken the care to mend the man's wounds).

The shackles around his powerful wrists chafed, but he paid the discomfort no mind.  For now, he must watch and wait for an opening - perhaps one would be lax and he would be able to snatch the key-chain from the older beast's belt and stab the beast's eyes out with the long key to the cell-door.  Patience was called upon here, and Algrim possessed that virtue in greater abundance than many of his tribe.  Algrim's eyes continued to stare, waiting.

[Yes, this is a second teaser for the same character.  This time, I'm teasing with some older backstory.  Bwa.  Ha.  Ha.]