Discord
Changelog
11-04-2014, 07:19 PM
Darkness...
My favorite time of day...night. I can watch them all pass by, the sheep...but they do not see me. Was I ever like them? Not likely. They are blind as well as stupid. People are that way, oblivious to their surroundings. You would think they would pay more attention, but they don't...and for that folly, they shall pay, some with their lives, and that to the glory of Bhaal. Nothing is sacred, nothing is safe. There is an old saying; "what's mine is mine, and what's yours is mine". True words that. I walk through alleyways, staying to the shadows, my robes blending with the walls, with the darkness...for I have made my mark. A fat man, obviously successful, obviously drunk, with a whore on each arm. More the fool he, for she is as much as a thief as I...but I am the more dangerous, for from her at least he will receive fair trade for his valuables, whereas I will just steal what I wish, and make no trade, unless it be steel for foolishness on his part.
Watching him stumble along, I am reminded of my step-father...another fat man, another fool. He thought he could make a merchant out of me, but I knew from the start his life was not mine, though I would catch strange looks from him from time to time, cast my way. I was told the stories of my birth often enough; my mother, consumed with a fever as if of fire during my birthing. But even dying, her power, and his fear of her, must have left its mark on him, for he did not expose me at birth, even though in that moment it was manifestly clear what I was…a Tiefling, and not his spawn, but that of another. He took me and kept me alive. And try though he might, blood will tell, and I went my own way, and found my own calling, my own worship.
For the infernal blood in me calls me to evil, and the blood that is spilt in my worship is the redder for flowing outside the body, death quickly following; tears of blood the symbol and the offering I make to my God. Most I meet are fools, as if a smile can take away what they must pay…their lives. My temper grows short with those. But even some fools useful, and I will disseminate as I must, if only to bring me closer to my goal.
The clouds thicken, the night deepens, the mark turns down a side street.
I move in...
My favorite time of day...night. I can watch them all pass by, the sheep...but they do not see me. Was I ever like them? Not likely. They are blind as well as stupid. People are that way, oblivious to their surroundings. You would think they would pay more attention, but they don't...and for that folly, they shall pay, some with their lives, and that to the glory of Bhaal. Nothing is sacred, nothing is safe. There is an old saying; "what's mine is mine, and what's yours is mine". True words that. I walk through alleyways, staying to the shadows, my robes blending with the walls, with the darkness...for I have made my mark. A fat man, obviously successful, obviously drunk, with a whore on each arm. More the fool he, for she is as much as a thief as I...but I am the more dangerous, for from her at least he will receive fair trade for his valuables, whereas I will just steal what I wish, and make no trade, unless it be steel for foolishness on his part.
Watching him stumble along, I am reminded of my step-father...another fat man, another fool. He thought he could make a merchant out of me, but I knew from the start his life was not mine, though I would catch strange looks from him from time to time, cast my way. I was told the stories of my birth often enough; my mother, consumed with a fever as if of fire during my birthing. But even dying, her power, and his fear of her, must have left its mark on him, for he did not expose me at birth, even though in that moment it was manifestly clear what I was…a Tiefling, and not his spawn, but that of another. He took me and kept me alive. And try though he might, blood will tell, and I went my own way, and found my own calling, my own worship.
For the infernal blood in me calls me to evil, and the blood that is spilt in my worship is the redder for flowing outside the body, death quickly following; tears of blood the symbol and the offering I make to my God. Most I meet are fools, as if a smile can take away what they must pay…their lives. My temper grows short with those. But even some fools useful, and I will disseminate as I must, if only to bring me closer to my goal.
The clouds thicken, the night deepens, the mark turns down a side street.
I move in...