Speaking of fluff, I just finished this. Mind, it is subject to change.
I have been called many things in my life. Nomad, Thief, Friend, Assassin, Husband, Farmer, and many more besides. There is a grain of truth to each, looking back. Indeed, at one time or another, I have been all of these things. But while their influence can be seen, they don't define what I am now.
As a boy, I was a nomad. I was born to a wandering tribe of Desert elves, who traveled from settlement to settlement plying and peddling their wares. As far as upbringings go, I suppose it was alright. I had a small, but a good family, being an only child. We were always on the move, and never stayed in one spot for long. My roof was the night sky and my bed the warmed sands. I played with the other children as I grew, and my parents tried to teach me the arts of trading and bartering. I tried, but it never really caught on. Rather, I discovered before long that I had a knack for getting items for free. Without their owner's knowledge.
Naturally, as I grew into adolescence I became a thief. Whenever our caravan came to a settlement to trade, I would wander off. I made a game of seeing what I could get away with, much to the distress of my parents. I earned no small amount of beatings from when I got caught. More often than not though, I escaped unnoticed with my ill gotten goods. Usually, when the caravan left, I'd leave the items behind. I didn't really care about the stuff that was actually stolen. I just liked the challenge. Besides, there isn't many places in a caravan where I could hide stuff that my parents didn't know about. The only really big exception was this old sickle, the first item I stole.
As adolescence was waning, I would become a friend to a couple other people. The first I met was Rothil, a half elf who was also skilled in the art of not being noticed. When I first met him, I thought he was another thief. He wasn't, but that didn't mean he didn't like jumping into trouble with me. He and I had some reckless fun times together. Later, I would also encounter Ila. She was a human girl, the daughter of some wealthy merchant living at one of the settlements our caravan visited frequently. As good as I was at stealing, she was even more clever and shrewd. She first caught me trying to lift a small ivory statue from her father's home. Naturally she ran me off, but it was with a rather mischievous grin she dared me to try again. I tried three times more, and each time she foiled me. Before I could try a fourth time, Rothil smacked me over the head and told me to stop. If I wanted to see her, I should just go talk to her. I wasn't good at that sort of thing, but I tried it anyway. It turns out Ila enjoyed our little game of cat and mouse, and before long, we had become friends as well. To make up for the stealing, I pointed out the flaws in her father's security. I didn't do as much thievery from then on, though I still found trouble every now and then.
It wasn't long after I grew into adulthood that I became an assassin. Our family caravan was returning to the settlement, to find that it had been raided by goblins just a few days ago. I immediately went to look to my friends. Rothil was in no danger. He had left the city to go on one of his journeys weeks before the attack occurred. But Ila. She was gone, and a ransom note left in her place. It goes without saying I was worried sick for her. The thought of never seeing her again made me weak, and the fear of what the goblins might do to her terrified me. I hoped that her father would pay the ransom. But no, her father was a merchant and could afford it, but he wasn't going to reward the goblins for a household of murdered servants and a terrorized child. Instead, he hired up every mercenary he could afford, and tasked them to get his daughter back. Unbeknown to them, I went with, taking the only weapon I could find. That old sickle.
It wasn't long before the mercenary group came to the goblin camp. They proceeded to do what mercenaries did best, and started killing every goblin they could find. I however, was more worried about Ila being killed by accident, or by some spiteful goblin seeking to deny her father the happiness of seeing her safe again. I snuck away from the battle, and drawing on my skills as a thief, I began searching the camp for her. I did find her, gagged and bound in a tent, with a goblin readying a dagger to kill her. I struck first, and hooked his neck in the curve of the sickle. I had taken my first life. cutting her loose, we left the tent and fled the camp, killing a few more goblins on the way. After we ran into the desert, I tried to soothe her fears and comfort her. We both knew that in that moment, our friendship had become something deeper and stronger.
It was soon after that attack that I would become a husband. Naturally, her father was overjoyed that Ila was back safe and sound, and very grateful to me as well. But it wasn't long before he decided that the desert was too dangerous, and made plans to leave. For a second time, I was struck with worry about never seeing Ila again. And again, I acted. I proposed. And to my joy, she accepted. Initially, it caused quite a stir. A merchant's daughter wedding a thief? But her father was in favor of it, my rescue still fresh in his mind. Ila's father and my parents paid for quite a wedding ceremony.
Eventually, I would become a farmer I would go with them, leaving the desert behind and following her family to greener pastures. She wanted to settle down, find a homestead somewhere and simply tend the green soil for a living. I agreed, it might take some learning, but after all I already had the sickle for it. I made a home for us, and began tilling the earth. It was quite a change from thievery in desert settlements, but a good one I thought. As the peaceful years went on, we even began considering children.
But that is in the past, and I do not know what I am now, or what I will be. This cheery ending was shattered years down the road. I don't know who it was, but again raiders entered our life. I don't know if it was any local group, or the hand of the goblins reaching out of the desert for vengeance. I was away at town, and returned to find our home in shambles. Again Ila was missing, but there was no ransom note this time. I don't know what happened to her, if she is alright, or if she is dead. But I will find out. I again took up my sickle, and left to find her. I hope to become a rescuer, and find her safe and sound somewhere, and bring her home.
But if, gods forbid, she had been killed, then I will become Death. And I will bring vengeance to each and every one who had a hand in this deed.
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Topic: [D&D 3.5] Red Hand of Doom. Drop-kicking a dragon in a 100-foot chasm. (Read 44624 times)