Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24141785-20150608200409/@comment-5543592-20150611024745

Lorcan sat up on the roof of the tower, resting his arms on his knees, and stared off into the night.

He didn't say anything on her approach, or even acknowledge her presence. He seemed to be lost in thought...

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517 years ago...

He washed up on the banks of Farrun, water-logged, and covered in seaweed. And when the fishermen pumped the water from his lungs and let he air flood in, he staggered to his feet and stared them down, looking awfully mistrustful, until one of them spoke.

"You okay, son?"

"Where am I?" His voice was a rasp, so dry that it scared him.

"Farrun.  Are you okay?"

"Where's that?"

"...High Rock.  Listen, boy, are you alright?  You just wash-"

The Trollkin brushed past the fisherman and headed towards the city. He was a man on a mission. He'd just gotten out of Volkihar. No way was he dying in godsforsaken High Rock.

Unfortunately, he was stopped at the gate.

"Hey!" He tried to get around the guard, who stopped him with a hand and the point of a spear. "Nordic trash!" The Breton guard barked at him, the second not far behind. "I'm talking to you."

He'd had never been insulted for being a Nord. That was certainly knew. He narrowed his eyes at the man and looked on the verge of a growl, but said nothing.

"You traitor to your country, lad?"

The man said nothing.

"You in kahoots with Queen Potema?" The guard got aggressive, and shoved Lorcan, and his buddy surged forward.

He took a step back in retreat from the shove, and was still silent.

"You come to rape our women and murder our children?  Then you're going to report back to some fucking vampire scum-"

The Trollkin canted his head, interested. "What did you say about vampires?"

"What?"

"Vampires, you mentioned vampires."

"Potema, she's got vampire generals, why-"

He interupted the guard again. "You're in the military?"

The Breton smirked. "Yeah.  What about it?"

"You're fighting the vampires?"

"That's implied."

"Where do I sign up?"

The guard snorted. "Why would we want something skinny like you?"

The man, to the guards surprise, reached forward and seized the head of the man's spear, and plunged it into his own bicep. When the weapon withdrew, blood began to spill down his arm. But, as the blood flowed, the wound closed up behind it. Every so slowly, until it was nothing, and the bleeding stopped.

"What... what are you?" Asked the guard.

"Captain will want to see this..." Breathed the second.

The Trollkin hesitated, as if thinking up a name, and something dramatic to say. "My name is Lorcan." He finally stated. "And I have become death, destroyer of worlds."