Highmoon II
Borin wandered aimlessly until nightfall. Torches and lanterns flickered into existance all over town and the streets, rather than going quiet, became even rowdier. The day trades were discretly but efficiently replaced by the the pleasures of the night. Suspicious stalls popped up in poorly lit alleyways, gambling dens opened their not so hiden doors and at the windows of brothels women and men with painted faces began peddling their trade.
Not at him, though. He felt himself a ghost, a figure of tattered clothes that floated in eerie silence through the streets, watching the world from the outside. Were it not for the people that bumped into him on occasion, and the painful hunger in his gut, he would have found it easy to believe his own demise.
As the peak of night aproached, Borin found himself turning a corner into a small plaza, a rough circle in between storehouses measuring no more than ten meters wide. A table had been set up there and a handful of people crowded around it. Four dwarves, one of them female, and a human male, played a card game, drank from large mugs and laughed and cussed loudly. They were all clad in pratical leather corsets and cuir vests, daggers and swords and clubs hung from their belts. None of the dwarves had beards.
The table fell suddenly quiet as they noticed Borin's one eyed gaze upon them. One of the dwarves raised his tankard at him. He had a light stubble starting to poke through his chin and odd black tattoos curling along his temples.
"Hello there, young kinsman! Why don't you join us?" - He flashed a smile that glittered with gold.
Borin's hunger and thirst spoke far louder than his wisdom. So he aproached and sat down on an offered chair, in front of the tattooed host.
"Name's Lyrd. These are my partners, Vaster, Fyrd, Maron and Joseph. Care for a drink? What's your name?"
"Yes. Borin." He nodded to the others as the presentations were made. Joseph, the human, poured him some ale, which Borin drank with eager, large gulps.
"First time in town,Borin?"
"Yes."
"It can be rough. We have all been there, eh lads?"
The others chuckled and smiled in agreement. None of them talked, but they all watched intently.
"Sorry if it's too blunt, Borin, but how long has it been since you were cast out?"
Lyrd rubbed his own beardless cheeks as he asked the question. Again the golden smile flashed in the night.
Borin imitated the gesture, feeling his smooth skin where not a pore showed any hint of hair growth. His remaining obsidian like eye stared hard at the other dwarf.
"All my life."
Lyrd grunted.
"That's shitty, lad. Paying for the mistakes of your parents. We don't judge here, though. In a way, you and us, we're in it together. The clan of the clanless." There were grunts and nods of agreement by the others.
"Good thing that you found us, Borin. We could always use an extra pair of hands. If you're interested in some work, something to pay for a roof and warm food, you could come work with us."
Borin took another large swig of ale. This should be a good thing. A helping hand when he needed it the most. But it all felt wrong.
"What manner of work?"
Lyrd's golden smirk was a greedy thing.
"Oh, well, you know. This and that. We're officialy in the storage business. Renting space for merchandise. How those goods find their way into our warehouses...Well, let's say we can be very creative about that. We'd mostly need you to keep an eye on..."
Borin was no longer listening. In fact, even his sight seemed to be shrinking, a grim red flooding the corner of his eyes. His lungs had become a tight knot in his chest, a fire raged in his gut.
So this was to be his lot. This was what he had been sentenced to,for no foul deed of his own. For doing nothing but being born, for being as he was. A petty thief. Lowly scum. Filth. A worthless piece of shit.
Lyrd opened his arms, smiling a wide and glittery grin.
"So what say ye?"
A fist punched through the golden teeth.
There was movement and blood and a red blackness. A gauged eye, a broken arm, a stabbed liver. There was sharp pain and icy cutting. A knee kicked inward, a nose bitten off, a face impaled through a broken chair.
There was screaming and grunting and whimpering. A throat cut by a broken glass, ribs broken by the edge of a boot, a body slammed against the stone.
Borin heaved and coughed as he stood over the bodies. Snot and drool and blood ran down his face. A dagger stuck out of his back. He could not remember the last thirty seconds.
The man named Joseph spasmed at his feet, foamy blood bubbling through his nose. One of the dwarves moaned like a diseased cow.
Borin turned and ran.
Past characters: Daedin Angthalion; Lurg Norgar; Urebriwyn; Ubaldo Ferraz; Erodash Uzdshak; Borin; Belchior Heliodoro; Orestes Fontebela