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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Alejandro" data-source="post: 387890" data-attributes="member: 248">“So, ah, Ur... Bode and I were talking. Do you have any secrets?”The cloaked warrior frowned at the bandit, then waggled his head at the shaman beside her. The shaman shrugged, but looked back expectantly. “Yes,” the warrior stated simply, and continued riding.Ur is actually the Tarantis Warrior-Monk Meridius, who slew his beloved master when his brothers told him that his master had been sharing secrets with a rival monastery. Meridius didn't question his brothers, and fled in shame when he questioned himself. njorgard hasn't had time to write up his story, thus this aside.Undeterred, the bandit pulled closer to the warrior. “Don’t be like that, sugah. You know, I was born in the dirty streets of Lankhmar.” The warrior looked at her blankly. “City of the black toga, city of a thousand smokes? City of thieves?” The bandit rolled her eyes and muttered an orc curse, but continued. “Personally, I like to call it hell..."My mother was a whore. Not really her fault, just the life she was born into. I have no clue who my father was. I figure he was an orc, considering that I’m half-orc. My mother was human. What little I remember of her, she was kind when she wasn’t drunk. She sung me to sleep before she went to work on the other side of our flat. I never fell asleep though. I was too young to understand what she was doing, but I understood enough to stay quiet, in my bed, away from the curtains. Then one night, the john she brought home cut her seven ways to Sunday, leaving a bloody mess where my mother once was. I stayed quiet, and slept, not knowing what else to do."My childhood was a blur after that. I survived like a rat, stole what food I could, and made a home for myself in the shack jungle of the slums. The Thieves Guild had better plans for me though, and showed it to me when One Hand Jimmy caught me trying to pick his pocket. He took me back to the guildhouse and gave me a warm place to sleep and some food. Training began the next day."I started as a pickpocket like the rest of the urchins, running wild and stealing from stupid marketgoers. As I grew older, I became stronger and the Guild moved me from pickpocketing to footpadding. I was muscle, and worked in one of their brothels as a bouncer. That was, until one of the pimps figured out that I would make a good “exotic” for his stable. That’s when things went bad. It took five other ‘pads to take me down, and I ended up in a cage. The bestial beauty, they called me. I have no idea how much the men that used me paid them -- I didn’t see a copper of it. They drugged my food and kept me docile. I have no idea how long that went on. Weeks, months, years -- I have no idea."I do remember the night I was freed though. A Northman with reddish-blond hair and beard came through the brothel, looking at the wares the pimp had to offer. He saw me in the cage, naked and drugged. I guess he felt sorry for me. Faster than I could think, he drew his broadsword and cut down the footpads around the pimp. As the fat bastard tried to run, the Northman hit him with the flat of his blade and dropped him like a sack of <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" />. Then the Northman freed me, and dressed me. He led me from that vile place and took me to an inn. I didn’t know what had happened to the pimp, but I didn't much care."I stayed in that inn for I don’t know how long. The Northman came and went with food, and treated me kindly. Kindness -- I had forgotten it. He helped me when my need for the drugs took hold of me. I healed, physically at least, and he began training me. He told me that I should become strong and skilled with weapons, to protect myself. The Northman never once asked for anything of me. He never told me his name. His last gift to me was a sack of gold and a key, along with an address. I took the sack of gold and the key, and went to the address. Inside was my true gift: lying in the room was the pimp, much thinner than I remembered, dressed in rags."Bruises fade, and blood washes away. I remember seeing myself, reflected from a puddle: scarred, but smarter." The bandit grinned at the memory. The warrior nodded in appreciation. The shaman looked at his sanguinary companions in horror.</blockquote>

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