Drahkkil's house in the slums.

[Drahkkil]

In an insignificant corner of the Souther Quarter sat what could have been, in years past, a beautiful and well constructed home. A family, for sure. Drahkkil imagined children running outside and laughing, the strong bonds the parents must have had... but all this filled Drahkkil with contempt and hate. That kind of life was one that would never be for-seen in his future. Of all his hundreds of years Drahkkil had never found a woman, or anyone for that matter who he could trust. Now this once perfect household was smashed, alone Drahkkil sat on straw underneath burlap, and though it began to itch the longer he sat, he didn't notice because deep inside his mind there was something else. A burning desire, a voice that let him see the truth. At night as people passed on the streets he could hear their voices, scheming his murder, his public humiliation, toture, burning. These thoughts filled Drahkkil's mind and he hunched over in his bed and lightly held his head. All these years of running, hiding, and for what? These people... these animals are nothing! Weak and frail, I will crush them with power, no... with deception. I will be around them all, go to their schools, learn their so called refined arts, and then I will strike them all down and I will have been their friend! Their most trusted peer, or student... For hours still Drahkkil sat and felt these thoughts race through his entire being till he entered a trance, possessed no doubt from some spirit sensing the strength of his hate and feeding on it, for thats how strong these emotions flowed through this Dracon. All alone in a house half rubble, held up the rest of the way with wooden planks, and stains of urine and **** all over the stoop from the makeshift hut slightly above his. Sometimes it was occupied and sometimes not, death was a frequent thing in the slums.

Hours passed and the trance left Drahkkil sleeping lightly. Rays from the morning sun filtered in through small cracks and landed across Drahkkil's eyes. Memories of the night before were few and far between. Drahkkil used no drugs and drank little, but frequently he was left with holes in his memory. To his own perception Drahkkil knew little about his purpose for this day, and those to come for that matter. But somewhere in his mind, or heart... or was it his blood? It knew exactly what to do, what courses of action to take to stamp out his judgment and discipline those who sought to destroy him. And all this was justified by the feelings he had. The things he knew were true.

After waking and eating some grains prepared over a small fire Drahkkil stood and stretched. Drahkkil prepared himself and began to change. The uncomfortable pain was always there when he changed form. Drahkkil had never been taught but over the centuries had learned to shapeshift. He still sometimes felt like he had two pairs of clothes on and the ones underneath were crooked, but was this just mental or really physical? Also he had learned to stand the pain, for though some might see this Dracon as a lower being, or as a bum with no real experience in life, Drahhkil was strong. Physically, yes, like any Dracon would be. What counted was his will, the strength of it. A fierce intelligence (or is it visions?) that in Drahkkils mind has never let him down in finding out what he wanted, in seeing through other peoples lies and reading their features like words on a book. This is what Drahkkil knew would keep him one step ahead on this uncertain quest he had given himself, or he thought it in this matter. Are these thoughts mine? The thought came and went as quickly as it took him to say it in his head.

Drahkkil blinked and looked around, the transformation was complete, and there was pain that could still be felt around his back and where his wings were. But was unnoticed in his deep thought.

Drahkkil examined himself best he could, he now resembled a Human male. He looked hard like someone who had been a city guard or the like. But not hard like a soldier who had see many battles, one like this would call his new form soft. Someone who has trained but very little combat experience. His hair was still a little black but obviously stained with gray. It was short and combed over the best he could get it with no comb. And the facial hair was that of a trimmed moustache and beard.

"Today I will be called Vsevolod, and I will find purpose."

With that he left out the back door so as to avoid the refuse and headed north, he would stop when he was out of the slums and talk to the first guard he saw.

[Kalinda]

The slums had once been a beautiful place, all those eras ago, before the war. The streets had been paved. There had been neat little houses with gardens, surrounded by fences. Children had been running down the street, laughing. There had been taverns and shops and even a temple or two. The area where Drahkil’s home stood had once been a pleasant neighbourhood, and those that had lived there had been good people. Nowadays homeless, drug dealers and prostitutes occupied it, and it wasn’t safe to go outside after dark anymore. Those people had no money, no proper jobs and too many children to take care of them all properly.


As he walked through the slums, Drahkil passed them all, the mothers who had been left alone with their children, the little orcs, humans and dracons that played in the mud that the streets had become, the people who were dying before their time. Some of the houses looked as if they had been owned by rich people, villas, signs of a time long past, but they were all ruined now. There had been attempts to rebuild them, especially in recent areas, but there was still a lot of suffering, too much suffering to make it all right again in such a short time.

As he neared the border of the Southern Quarter, the houses gradually got nicer looking. The windows weren’t broken anymore, there were no holes in the walls and no heaps of garbage in the gardens. The people were clean, and there were fewer beggars and drug addicts.

The first guard that Drahkil met as he left the slums was a woman. She was human, brown-eyed, black-haired, with pale white skin like most of the people of Vortex. She was just past her teens, a new recruit by the looks of it who still felt a little bad about the beggars on the street, who still cared. She held a spear in her hand and wore the black and purple uniform of the guards.

She looked at Drahkil for a while before she walked over to him. She walked purposefully, and as she stopped in front of him, she looked at closely.

“Excuse me, Sir”, she asked. “Do I know you? You look as if you have once served with the guards yourself.”

[Drahkkil]

Drahkkil nodded to the woman, well girl really, who approached him. She was pretty to Drahkkil's eyes even though she was Human.
"Serale," greeted Drahkkil, "I don't believe we have met before but I could be wrong. I've never served in the Vortex guard before, no in fact I've seen little of this town during my travels... perhaps you could show me around some. I am in need of work. Perhaps you could tell me about the guard some. Oh, please excuse my rudeness, my name is Vsevolod."
With that Drahkkil bowed respectfully to the guard, and waited for her reply.

[Kalinda]

„Vsevolod?“ The girl struggled a bit with his name. It sounded Vortexian, but not quite. „Well met, Vsevolod. I’m Lina. And you are kidding! You have the look of a soldier or a guard. I could see that immediately. There are a lot of men like your working for the great city of Vortex.“ She gestured for him to walk next to her.

She was on patrol, alright, but being a guard wasn’t only about watching the city, trying to prevent a crime from happening or sending criminals to the goal. As far as she was concerned it was also about helping people and answering their questions.

„We guards basically patrol Vortex and the first level of the undercity and guard the gates. Sometimes we have to deal with criminals or with a gang, and it gets dangerous, but it isn’t a bad job, and the pay’s decent. They give you free weapons training as well. At least they did when I joined a couple of eras ago. They even give you those uniforms.“

She pointed at her rather good looking black and purple uniform.

„Our captain of the guards is a dwarf, Dorvold Hammerhelm. Before him we had Dimitri Wladisyaw who was the son of our last Thane, but he did some bad things, so they threw him out.“ Lina shrugged her shoulders. Dimitri’s problems hadn’t really affected her a lot. She still did her patrols, as before, and as long as the pay was alright, she wouldn’t complain.

„But what about you, Vsevolod? What’s your story? Would you like to join us?“