[Miscr3ant]

It’s not easy always being the smallest; smallest in the streets, smallest on the team games played by the other children, smallest in the home.  And for long years he bore the brunt of the teasing with clenched teeth, clenched fists, and daggered silent stares.  He knew what he was…a Rashemi in the land of Thay, as many people were.  Each of them trying to climb the social ladder, a ladder that was always shorter and harder than a Mulani’s ladder, but still a way above the heads of others who were not fortunate enough to be born in the land of Thay…but not a way for those who were weak.

He may have been short, but he was strong, for from a young age he worked as a longshoreman at the docks near the Guild of Foreign Trade, loading crate after crate on board ships bound for Thayan Enclaves in foreign ports, his small stature perfect for being in the hold of a ship where small spaces and heavy goods came together.  With the passage of enough time he grew; not upwards, not much, but wider of back and thicker of sinew.

He may have stayed there forever, working his way up to possibly Dock Foreman, for he was intelligent too, if in a cunning way, always on the lookout for the main chance…were it not for the sailor from Calimport.  A man not much taller than himself, and just as dark, he swaggered down the gangplank of a trading ship newly arrived like a conquering hero, and for some reason, saw Djerico and decided to make him his target for insults.

Following Djerico as he was dockside, making his laden trips back and forth from the nets near the crane to the carts of supplies, the man brayed, laughed, jested, mocked.  All the while trying to get others to join in in the hazing; some did, others not.  And this went on for some time, Djerico working silently, teeth clenched and arms swelling in anger and exertion, until the Calimshite made his one, and last, fatal error; he mocked Djerico’s mother, questioning not her race, but her species, and something in him snapped.

Djerico carefully set his crate down so as to not damage the Guild’s goods, walked up to the grinning man, and raised his fist on high as if it were a hammer.  Hard as an oak, and attached to an arm the size of other men’s thighs, he crashed it into the Calimshite’s upturned laughing face, pulping his nose, teeth flying to clack on the stones; the man dropped as if struck by lightning.  Turning, Djerico grabbed a length of rope, and quickly, using skills learned at the docks with crates and knots and rope in plenty, hogtied the man into a tightly bound bundle.  Taking the long end of the rope, and without looking back at either the man nor the crowd that stood in silent and wary awe, Djerico made his way to the south end of the city, dragging the man over the rough cobbles, not caring when the Calimshite moaned, or left skin and red streaks behind to mark his passage…to the main market where Thyvo Vrass the Slaver plied his trade.

Down the ramp and up to the table he strode, his helpless prisoner now crying out his fear, but nothing in the stone of Djerico’s face changed.  Thyvo’s face creased into an evil smile, but it took on an air of surprise when Djerico handed over the rope, and simply said “This one I give free”.  Taking the rope in one hand, Thyvo snapped his fingers twice and two other slaves ran up to haul the new-made slave away for processing; meaning he was summarily dragged, thrown into a cage still hogtied and crying out…and ignored, his free life over.
 
Djerico made to turn and return to the docks, but Thyvo put a hand on his shoulder and turned him back, looking in his eyes, eyeing him up and down…and a wicked smile formed.    Looking at Djerico, he snapped his fingers yet again, making a gesture with his hand, and another slave came up and placed a set of magical shackles into Thyvo’s hand.  Sliding his hand down Djerico's arm and taking his wrist, he turned the hand up…and laid the shackles into his palm, curling Djerico's fingers closed over the iron.  His eyes took on an even more sinister gleam, and his smile grew, and he said…

“These I give free.  Something tells me you’re going to make us both plenty of talons…you’ve a gift for this line of work.”