Role

Chapter 2

I'm told my parents were palace guards. From the Freth'aran clan too. Not
bad, eh? Not really sure who they are, but sounds important, so I'll take
it.

I've no reason to doubt it. Seantryn Modan isn't exactly built on charity,
but it is built on being practical. If your guards get their skulls cracked,
getting their kids enrolled in a state orphanage is just good business.
Get that assembly line churning, eh? Get them feeling greatful. Get them
feeling... patriotic.

Well. Mixed results. A nice thought though.

Tell you the truth, my childhood was alright. There were no beatings I
didn't have coming, and while it wasn't three square meals a day it was at
least two vaguely triangular ones. Some people might be feeling a spot
dismayed to hear that, though that just means you've probably got it good.
That's a damn shame, because a lesson I learned right quick: its the
hardships which make us. Its that struggle. That fight.

Seantryn ain't a nice place. It chews weaklings up, specially kids. Maybe
they vanish onto boats and ain't seen again. Maybe one vanishes one day
then you stumble over a corpse in an alley a few weeks later. Grim, for
sure, but what you going to do?

Get tougher, that's what. Learn what the world is really about. Its a
duergar eats duergar world out there pals, and you can either be slaked or
sliced. Pick one.

But enough about that. You're not here for Seantryn Modan. You're here for
me, and ain't that just the best of choices?

You see. Toughening up is a nice benefit of growing up in a bubbling
cauldron with all the nastiness floating on top. Sure is. But there's
something way better about it.

Even a novice can give that mess a bit of a stur. Catch my drift?

Let me tell you about it.