Aleck Sentry's page

About Aleck Sentry

"After everything we've done for you, this is how you repay us?" Stigra's parting words came back painfully. Aleck's eyes snapped open, he must not fall asleep, even after guarding the museum for sixteen hours straight; his relief was supposed to be there six hours ago. He rolled his shoulders and walked around some more, his lame excuse echoing hollowly in his memory as he resumed his patrol. "I never get to talk to human women, and I was bored." The woman he'd called mother for most of his life turned away in disgust.

What was that!? A noise coming from near one of the windows? Aleck gripped his guisarme tighter and moved it into a ready position. Padrin tossed a backpack at his feet, "That was the last straw. Leave." His adopted father's feet were set as firm as his jaw, the decision was final. Aleck set his feet in a similar way, sliding closer to the main exhibit, though the effect wasn't the same with his longer legs. He circled around the pedestal, sidestepping to keep his weapon pointed at the walls as he heard a noise from another window.

The road out of Peddlegate was lonely and he was angry at his surrogate dwarven family. Eventually, when he finally accepted his mistakes, Aleck became angry with himself. As a shadowy figure slipped through a window in his peripheral vision that same anger started building toward the would-be thief and his muscles coiled, ready to charge. It was bad enough that his blueprints were shoddy, but then he broke formation while protecting a convoy, getting his brother injured; and that wasn't the worst of it. He focused his anger into resolve and his coiled muscles settled into a defensive posture; the artifact was not moving from its location. His dwarven family took him in when he was orphaned as a babe during the Goblinblood Wars, taught him discipline, hard work, engineering, and how to fight; he repaid them with selfish and unruly acts.

His patience was rewarded as another shadow crept through a window opposite the first. "You haven't done anything wrong, walk away!" Aleck barked the command out as he leveled his guisarme at each of them in turn. He allowed himself to become distracted while guarding the family's recently acquired gem stockpile and they were stolen. The shadows circled and flitted around the peripheral exhibit; a display case shattered on Aleck's left and he turned in time to see a hand grab the ancient mask within. It was the last mistake of many and they were right to disown him. He was ready to charge to his left, but circled around to his right instead "By Torag I'll day before you take this." A whisper of air came too late as he felt something pierce side. "That can be arranged."

He'd spent a few years on his own writing down his family's teachings and forcing himself to learn the discipline they offered him; one day he would return and make amends. Or maybe not. He wished for quality dwarven armor as he fell to a knee, his left side wet with blood. If they'd parted on better terms his sister would've made the finest plate armor he'd ever worn. The tip of Aleck's guisarme rested on the ground as he saw the shadows move in, coordinated and flanking him like wolves. He'd been away from his dwarf family now four years; this was his first respectable job in that time and he was failing.

He wasn't ready for the attack, but his reflexes took over and the guisarme sliced the thigh of the attacker on the left, toppling him to the ground. Dwarven weapon drills were precise and repetitive and Aleck slouched whenever he thought no one was watching. The arc of the polearm followed through to strike at the assailant on the right, but she ducked under the blade and rolled away. She put her hands up and drew back her hood; pursing her lips she smiled suggestively, "Perhaps we can work something out." His blood was leaking to the floor. It was much harder to force yourself to do weapon drills alone, but Aleck has had a strict training regiment going on three years now and has been forced to forsake a pursuit of women to do so. He charged forth, slicing into her torso, but as her arm came down for defense a hidden dagger flew forth and caught him in the neck.

The stone was cold, as always, and someone was shouting at him; it was time to get up and he had slept in again. His limbs were heavy and through blurry vision he saw his mother. She was hugging him...no, dwarves don't hug...wait, was it his birth mother? He could feel a warm embrace around his neck, but that can't be right, she's been gone too long and he didn't have a sweetheart. Reality was cold and alone, and dwarves are always grounded in reality; if he wanted his family back he didn't have time to dream. "I...he's going to be...he's stable." The words...it was hard to hear all of them. The stone was cold, reality is cold, "I'm in...reality..." Darkness.

"...a good thing I...to come in early." That voice, it sounded familiar.

"A good thing indeed." That was the boss, the owner of the museum.

Oh no, I'm sleeping on the job; I can't sleep on the job! Discipline! "Shorry mamm," reaching for my weapon "backk...pat-rol," getting up.

"You've done your job, rest." A warm hand on my chest. Reality is cold, brush it away. "Rest," the hand is removed. The stone is cold.

"I didn't want to move him with these injuries. Would you consider letting him go, he'd make a great Pathfinder?" Injuries? Thieves! I made a mess.

"Would you get one of your healers? You can examine the relic when you return and we can talk about it." Still there, I didn't fail. "I have to open on time, so I still need you finished identifying my main exhibit by tonight." Darkness.

"What are you doing? You're supposed to rest with those injuries, even after I gave you magical healing."

"No time, the museum needs to be cleaned; I made a mess." My feet are set firm, as is my jaw. He goes to argue, then shakes his head and walks out. Dwarven stubbornness, I must get it from my family.