Tyressen, Neverwinter's Forgotten

[CommanderKrieg]

[The fiery embers of a hand rolled cigarette casts a warm light over the battered face of the wood elf. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and glares to the man laying down in the cobblestone hallway.]

"Hmmmn?" He lets out with a blank expression on his face. He sighs, exhaling smoke from his nostrils. He moistens his lips, and begins to speak in a chilling monotone.
"You are probably wondering why you are here. You may even be running through your head that just life you lead, and trying to figure to decipher where you made a wrong turn." The elf slouches on the wall, and slowly lowers himself beside the man. He takes another drag of his cigarette, the word of Gruumsh printed on the paper. His golden eyes turn their focus to the man beside him, and speaks. "In your lust to achieve absolute control over the dominion, you have stared into the light of its knowledge and grown blind. Who are you to determine the fate of the rightous, or the foul of the unjust? You and those like you have poisoned the waters of prosperity, and disrupted the balance that has been so carefully set before you."
Tyressen ashes his cigarette on the mans head, his face stricken with horror. The wind howls through the vacant hallways of the temple. The elf begins to roll up his pant leg, and begins to wrap a large wound. He looks back to the man. "And who am I?" He asks the man as smoke flows from his lips. He waits for no response, and begins to speak again. "I am a damn whole lot of nobody. I am the dirt on your boots. The same you casually step into, and think to wash off later. I am the insect in your home. The same you carelessly crush, so you may feel just a tiny bit more secure. Your ignorance was your failure. Your carelessness was your poison."
The elf looks back to his leg, gently wrapping the wound, and covering writings unscripted into his calf with a sharp knife. "Some of us find it harder to forget." He rolls down the pant leg, covering a small knife hidden on his boot. He slowly pans his gaze from the man to his sword leaning beside him. Reaching to the sword he takes it across his lap, and runs his finger across the cold steel.
"I take no pleasure in the suffering of others." He pauses for a moment examining the marks of shackles on his wrists. "I do what I would ask of no others. There is an end to this ballad; something much more important than I. In the vast fields of the innocent; deprives of their rights to a life without war and hate, there stands those that shall not allow it. They stand as a guide to the lost, the protector of his kin. With the unheard screams of my people in my mind, and my blade in my hand; you will know my conviction by the suffering I share with those that should attempt to bring harm to my people." His mouth flares to a frown, as he puts his cigarette out on the side of the mans face.
The elf stands up, pressing himself to his feet against the blood stained wall. He takes his blade sliding it in its sheath, and looks to the man on the floor. "I suppose I should thank you for listening. In fact I must admit, I have grown quite fond of you for your open mindedness." A cold smile creeps over his face.
"Then again... You have been dead for the last two hours." He steps over the body into the bits of brains, skull, and blood scattered across the ground.