Stew. Good.
Posted: Sat Aug 22, 2020 11:21 pm
Drakx, born a slave in a Duergar mining camp, his was a world of mindless tedium and routine horrors. Deprived of intellectual nourishment, but craving nothing for brutish strength, the Duergars molded him into a workhorse, churning daily, mining ore, breaking rocks into smaller rocks, moving piles of rocks from one pile to another.
One day, a day that started out just like any other, his father was beaten to death by a Duergar taskmaster. Not long after, a small group of earth genasi, including his mother, hatched a plot to escape. Ah, but even the best-laid schemes o' mice an' men... As the plot unfurled, a handful did escape, but not his mother, struck down by their pursuers, she bought the others and her son a few precious seconds.
The fugitives managed to find their way to the Upperdark, where followers of Eilistraee aided them. The memory of a kindly, elderly drow woman, consoling him in his grief, mending his wounds and nurishing his starved body, would stick with him to the end of his days. As the group recovered from their ordeal, they ventured to the world above. As a parting gift, the old Illythiiri jalil gave him a necklace bearing the symbol of Eilistraee, a bastard sword, pointing upward, against a full moon.
Once on the surface, it was not long before the group disbanded due to infighting. In desperation he sought work as a mercenary. As his place in the world became less subject to the vagaries of life, he began thinking more of the meaning of his life. He would often wonder why his father and mother had to perish the way they did. In quiet moments of solitude, he would look upon the old drow woman's gift and think of the less fortunate who were still under the whip of their cruel Duergar overlords.
As way leads on to way, his led to Baldur's gate...
He would often hunt various animals and creatures of The Sword Coast to make stew. Being uncouth, uncultured, and often unintelligible, his company, and his choice of stew, would not be welcomed by all.
One day, a day that started out just like any other, his father was beaten to death by a Duergar taskmaster. Not long after, a small group of earth genasi, including his mother, hatched a plot to escape. Ah, but even the best-laid schemes o' mice an' men... As the plot unfurled, a handful did escape, but not his mother, struck down by their pursuers, she bought the others and her son a few precious seconds.
The fugitives managed to find their way to the Upperdark, where followers of Eilistraee aided them. The memory of a kindly, elderly drow woman, consoling him in his grief, mending his wounds and nurishing his starved body, would stick with him to the end of his days. As the group recovered from their ordeal, they ventured to the world above. As a parting gift, the old Illythiiri jalil gave him a necklace bearing the symbol of Eilistraee, a bastard sword, pointing upward, against a full moon.
Once on the surface, it was not long before the group disbanded due to infighting. In desperation he sought work as a mercenary. As his place in the world became less subject to the vagaries of life, he began thinking more of the meaning of his life. He would often wonder why his father and mother had to perish the way they did. In quiet moments of solitude, he would look upon the old drow woman's gift and think of the less fortunate who were still under the whip of their cruel Duergar overlords.
As way leads on to way, his led to Baldur's gate...
He would often hunt various animals and creatures of The Sword Coast to make stew. Being uncouth, uncultured, and often unintelligible, his company, and his choice of stew, would not be welcomed by all.