Author Topic: The Borcan Bandit  (Read 168 times)

Monktrus

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The Borcan Bandit
« on: October 04, 2020, 04:49:55 AM »
Ladro de Meruzzi


A stunted scion to a lesser branch of the Meruzzi banking house, this caliban was, in some ways, lucky and unlucky compared to others of his kind. He was not killed at birth, or discarded in the wilds. His (somewhat degenerate) family had unusual tastes and traditions; they were of middling influence in the ever changing and gold driven landscape of Borca and the whims of it's tyrannical Lady Boritsi, but certainly better off than most. And so Ladro was raised as a sort of jester, a droll amusement and servant, a skulking creature who waited on his relatives at dinner with a silver mask to cover his hideous features, dutifully swept the damp vaults' tunnels and maintained the traps guarding their client's deposits, and occasionally was used as a guinea pig for various poisons and toxins. Though his body was deformed, he was born with more cunning than his family realized, and he put on a show of being a simple minded lackey while at night in his raggy den beneath the manor he schemed and plotted. One day the humiliations proved too much for even his beaten down pride; there was a slip of arsenic into a perfume bottle, a dead aunt, and five hundred gold in his cloth sack. Ladro fled into the backstreets of Levkarest with a new dream; he would develop his talents and become a legendary thief, the sort he fondly remembered reading about in old stories, and someday return to rob his family blind. Perhaps then they would know his worth, and the promise they had squandered...
« Last Edit: October 09, 2020, 06:36:38 AM by Monktrus »

Monktrus

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Re: The Borcan Bandit
« Reply #1 on: October 07, 2020, 03:07:21 AM »
Quote
Flick. Flick. Flick. The cards quiet shuffling seemed to Ladro as loud as a cannon shot...with perhaps as much chance to deal him a gruesome end. He had seen what the simple slips of paper could do; surely the devilry was in them. But the caliban had a sickness as dangerous as any pox or plague. He was always starved for that feeling of greatness that came with overcoming fatal odds, of proving himself exceptional and intended for a great destiny. The stink and grime of the chamber around the players faded to him as Ladro watched the dealer's practiced movements, and at last the time came to choose....
« Last Edit: October 07, 2020, 03:08:59 AM by Monktrus »

Monktrus

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Re: The Borcan Bandit
« Reply #2 on: October 09, 2020, 06:26:19 AM »
Quote
Ladro sat perched on a sewer pipe, rolling a Kenku's feather in a gloved hand and trying not to dwell on the fact that his soul was damned. He found it easier than expected; if all people were made as clay in Ezra's oven, he had come out wrong from the start. Twisted in body, twisted in spirit, as so many mocking voices had often said. So what wrong had he done, in making the most of a bad roll of the dice? Who could have held their ground among all that bloody chamber's horrors, besides the mad trio (and he wondered if they truly had slipped the snare.) He leapt from the pipe with near supernatural grace, almost floating across the tunnel to land without a sound in the muck. He now had an edge, something to put him over the masses of desperate dregs who called themselves "thieves". For his legend to truly start, he needed a title. A...persona. Distinction. Looking down at the Kenku feather gifted him, the caliban grinned a needle toothed grin...
« Last Edit: October 09, 2020, 06:31:41 AM by Monktrus »