Lycastanblix the Grand Master of Changelings

PK Statistics

PK Gank-O-Meter

Immortal Comments

Role

Chapter 1

*POW!*

His eyes began to water profusely as a gout of blood erupted from his nose.
"Bluh.. pflblbltfah! I dingk you b-broge by doze!"

The old man stepped back a pace and gave Lycastanblix a once-over. His lips
pursed. "Yep. You might be right. Here, let me set it for you," and he darted
behind the little bald gnome, stooping, reaching up under his arms. A split
second later his hands came together with a gruesome CRACK!

"OOUCH!... You bastard, what's the big idea?" He whipped around to face the
man, only to be presented with a gory image of his own face in a hand mirror
the old drifter held at arms length before him. "Hey.. not bad!" he marvelled
at his swelling beak which, if nothing else, was straight on his face.

"C'mon little bugger! Let's get back to the bar," he clapped Lycastanblix on
back, leaving a bloody handprint as they staggered back inside to finish the
evening.

Hours later as the alcohol progressively wore away at resolve and ambition,
the old man looked up at Lycastanblix with watery eyes. "You got any kids?"

"Me? No! God, no! Why would you-"

"GET SOME!" he belted out forcibly. He leaned in close and spoke in a low
tone, "If you want to exist, you need to be depended on by at least one
person in this world. Me? I could disappear and nothing would change at all.
No one would miss me, and no one would care. I got no one to live for. I
got no reason to live, and at this point its too late to even start."

"Hey, now, that's not true. You're a good looking guy, not too old to find
someone, start a family, live happily ever after."

He burped, turned slightly green, and swallowed hard. "I'm a tramp. You know
what a tramp is, kid?" Before the gnome could form a response the old man
went on, "I go from place to place and take work when I can get it. When I
get tired of where I'm at or when where I'm at gets tired of me, I grow
legs and walk off. Many times, I've been whittled down to not even the
clothes on my back. Passed out, rolled, and thrown in the gutter, left for
dead. Without a single posession and no one to turn to, I still manage to
survive."

"Trust me, kid. Live like a dog, and you'll die like one." He slumped heavily
over his beer, quietly weeping, and muttering over and over again, "Live like
a dog, die like a dog. Live like a dog, die like a dog..."

The pain of this man's loneliness crept slowly into Lycastanblix's soul. He
stood, and made a drunken attempt to push his chair in, slurring, "Good luck
to you, old boy." He swaggered off into the throng and lifted a half-full
bottle of Wild Turkey from an unattended tabletop. As he knocked back a
quarter of it in one pull, he could feel the fiery warmth pushing his
conversation with the man safely into the recesses of his memory, to be
recalled years later...

And such is the life of the vagabond.

Edges

Timeline

Skill List