Ustalav, saying it causes vomit in the mouth, a horrid place full of horrors, nightmares, and absolutely no mercy. The people of the land either hide in fear or chase out what they don’t know or understand. Growing up as a half-breed…well let’s just say it’s not something you wish on your worst enemy. Dillan doesn’t remember much of his life, in fact if given the option he prefers it that way. Though no matter how hard you try there are some things you can’t forget.
Dillan knew if they caught him it would be his life. How was he to know he had stolen from the Scarzni? It’s not like they had a sign up saying it was theirs or anything. Besides he was starving, he needed food, warmth, anything to make his life better. He lived in an orphanage until the age of twelve. He never regretted leaving that place, the beatings were brutal and once he felt he understood enough of the world he attempted to make his own way. He survived by begging and stealing. Sure it wasn’t a wise trade to have but who would hire a Half-Elf. He attempted to earn honest work, take up duties as an apprentice but once his elven heritage was evident he was shown the curb.
He ducked into alley and hiding in the darkest corner he could find. He should be safe here. He sat silently waiting to hear their footsteps go past his hiding spot. He heard nothing. The Scarzni pretty much run everything in the blackmarket in Caliphas and in most of Ustalav for that matter. They have thugs, master thieves, con artists and some even rumor a strong assassination group. If one is to be involved in such matters one is either a member or they are soon executed. The Scarzni doesn’t take no too well when they offer someone employment.
They had found him; the aching head pain and the bindings reminded him of that. Was one of them waiting for him in that alley? “Think you can steal from us boy?” The thug asked, “We’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.” The pain is what he remembers most. Once they pulled his head up and his pointed ears shown they knew his heritage. You see some of the Scarzni are locals, and those that are have the same disdain that others of Ustalav have for non-humans.
”A Half-Elf!” He said with disgust…then Dillan heard the blade leave its sheath. This was it, his end all for some food scraps and a blanket. He blacked out from the pain and when he woke at first he thought he was dead. He woke in a bed, the light from the fireplace providing warmth to the room. He started to look about the room then quickly the pain reminded him of his last memory. His hands to his ears and feeling that the tips were now gone. He wasn’t alone in the room, there was a man there and seeing Dillan move about he came to his side comforting him. “Rest easy now, you are safe.” His voice was friendly and Dillan couldn’t help but wonder if this was not just some elaborate torture. “How did I…”
“I found you in the alley.” The man sighed, “Left for dead. It looked like you needed some help.”
Professor Lorrimer was his name. He took in Dillan, gave him food, clothing and even employment. For the short time he was in Caliphas Dillans’ life had improved. He helped secure his home there, testing the locks, checking the home for various security weaknesses. There wasn’t much Dillan knew, but he did know how to break into a house. It seemed the Professor needed his skill, he was adamant about wanting his home safe. Occasionally he would go out of the city with him, normally to help him by-pass locks on old tombs and such. Finding old traps and removing the hazard they created. Professor paid him well for all this and even taught him a few things.
And now as time has passed somber news has come to Dillan and the memory of the meeting creeping back into his mind. The pain was still there when he touched his ears and now the pain moved into his soul. The one man who had cared for him, given him a chance and educated him had passed. No matter the risk, Dillan thought,I owe him respects.
