Role

Chapter 9

Mortorn, the great war between duergar an dwarves, a story repeated in time
over, and over, and over again. The beginnings of Faeghn aren't overly
important, the story could be told by anyone. Born in the underdark,
recruited forcefully for the war, trained in the ways of battle formations,
used as fodder against dwarves. Faeghns life truly began to be interesting
when he was captured by a dwarven squadron. Dwarves may not take prisoners,
but war is expensive. A number of captured duergar and drow, no kobolds or
goblins, were immediately put into slave pens and marched through the
underdark, up and out of secret tunnels, and sold into slavery for war funds.


Faeghn was one such example. After his march he was forced into the light of
day. He'll never forget the moment he was shoved into the burning heat,
stumbling over his shackles. He swore his eyes must be smoking, his whole
body seemed aflame. He grew reaccustomed to the routine of being jostled
around by glaring overseers with whips. As he had done in the underdark, he
kept his head down and stayed out of trouble, making sure to keep the fiery
glint of rebellion from his features lest he serve as an example to the
others. After a long journey down a river and to the ocean, he ended up in a
slave market in a city he was unfamiliar with. As he was walked through the
city he took in strange and new sights between the lashes of the whip, he saw
many things that he was awestruck over. Shiny weapons, gleaming pots and
pans, intricate tapestries, woven baskets, and smells of food vendors that
hed have given his right hand at the time to sample a bite.

The smells of the slave market were not so pleasant, but as he had worked up
quite a bit of muscle over his journeys and training, he did not spend much
time there. He was purchased by a cloaked and hooded figure which had the
stature of a drow. His instinct was correct. He was taken aboard a pitch
black sloop and shoved below decks. With his chains off his first instinct
once alone with his new 'master' in the cargo hold was to fight. This was a
bad idea. His head felt like it exploded off of his neck, his skin felt like
it was being cut by thousands of razors and rubbed with loads of salt. He had
heard of magic and wizards before, and he swore from that moment on he would
do everything he could to prevent that sort of thing from happening again
without just cause. He grew accustomed to the rigors and duties of a ship
slave, and was thankful that everyone on board seemed to be as wary of the
sun as he was, most of the sailing was done at night. Faeghn grew to enjoy
the darkness and mystery of the ocean, the thousands of stars in the sky, and
the adventures and dangers associated with sailing the high seas. He never
forgot at the end of each day that he was a slave, and that he wanted his
freedom.