Wanted to share this as it was on my most interesting adventure games, a bit of narrative fluff has been added to make it more interesting to read.
--Year 76--
The dark dreary walls Riftsrafts betrayed it's eerie nature, a dark secret none dared believe. Deep in the bowels of the once great Dwarven fortress housed a man of great ambition and horrid sociopathy. Outside the dark walls were the shambling movements of the risen dead, bound to the will of this man.
A dead body of a dwarf, not risen, stood before a robed bearded man, with gaunt eyes that betrayed no emotion the man once called Itke slowly unleashed his dark magic on the body, watching as it twisted and turned, darkening and growing appendages and new horns. Itke smiled, his work was complete.
Soon, the newly created "Fists of Quispepsutar" rose to life, and spread across the world through a dark infection, despite this, however, most Fists were of normal temperament, and many felt being labeled a "dark creature" was paranoia of best, and discrimination at worst.
--Year 120--
Erab stood at attention, nervously, the human castle seemed impossible huge and imposing, and for a second, he wondering if he, a Fists, would actually be allowed entry.
Still, he reasoned, he had distinguished himself in battle and proved himself loyal to the human Crown, surely they trusted him, right?
The wall gates slowly opened, and, quite stupidly, realized that, of course they trust him! They had made him the hearthsperson to the baron here, surely that wouldn't do that if he was untrustworthy.
Walking through the courtyard, he saw many others, herbalists, siege engineers, all heading to the same place as him, the castle itself. Before long, he was face-to-face with the man himself, the baron, Arhuk Neddudmith, a short man with extremely long, wavy hair, Erab quickly noticed that his nose was abnormally long, he pondered why that could be.
"Erab...is it?" The man was quite drunk already, and looked like he could collapse at any moment.
"Ye-Yessir" Erab replied nervously, after years of living under human rule, he was quite wary of them
"Hmp, a brat like you? And your a Fists to boot, you'll be dead in 2 months" Arhuk mumbled before wandering off to his bedroom, leaving Erab alone....
--Year 125--
Instead of the grand and honorably job as defender of the Baron and carrier of his will, Erab found that being Hearthsperson was actually a glorified secretary, and he spent most of his time waiting of Arhuk's every whim and carrying him to bed when he inevitably passed out from drinking too much.
On the 15th day of Spring, that changed as he was called into Arhuk's office.
"Erab" Arhuk wasn't drunk, a noticeable change from his usual demeanor, Erab instantly went alert, this was obviously important.
Arhuk continued, "I got something for you, something important for a change, there's a small hamlet just east of here, Lordsand, it's a hamlet of your kind, I think. Someone died, murdered, a human, by one of yours."
Erab's eyes popped at that, he knew Fists-Human relations weren't great, but murder?
Arhuk continued, seemingly too lost in memory to notice his Hearthsperson reaction, "A friend of mine, a girl named Mila, you know the law as much as I do, that Fists needs to die, I don't care how it happens, but bring me his head" That was he said before getting up and walking away, leaving Erab a bit stunned. His first real assignment, and he had to kill one of his own kind.
How cruel can a world be?!
Author
Topic: The Chronicles of Erab Ukorothla (Read 924 times)