Obscene Symphony

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

_{@Achronum@POOHEAD189}

Clarissa didn’t stay long, but it was just as well; she was overcome with righteous indignation as she got back up, which suited her much better than gloom in Jorah’s opinion. Class ended soon after, but Jorah was in no rush to follow – by the snippets of shouts he heard from the courtyard, he figured it was best to keep his distance for the time being. He didn’t hide his smirk, snickering a bit at the tongue-lashing he imagined Professor Lysander was getting. It served him right, for sure, but what made it even more entertaining was that Jorah himself wasn’t on the receiving end this time.

He dearly wanted to sneak a glimpse of Lysander’s face before Clarissa was done with him, but in an uncharacteristic show of restraint, Jorah refrained. This was a touchy subject for her, and although he knew more than anyone else, she still deserved her privacy.

Which of course begged the question: why was Prince Eagle over there snooping in the doorway?

Jorah quirked a brow in the Imperial prince’s direction, openly examining his cartoonish posture, peering out the door and breathing shallowly like a child who thought his hiding place was foolproof. Leaning on a pillar, Jorah watched, shocked as Kayden drank up Clarissa’s whole exchange without even a hint of shame, before telling his classmates he was going to “gather information.” What the hell was he up to? Jorah had given the Eagles the benefit of the doubt, assuming they’d manage to be normal for the duration of the year, but it seemed he was wrong. Apparently, the Empire never stopped scheming.

Following Kayden out, he caught his odd appeal to Clarissa, the Prince apparently blind to the fact that she was upset. Jorah knew other people didn’t have the sense for emotions he did, but couldn’t he tell when it was best to leave someone alone? Or had the Crown Prince of Adrestia just never had an interaction blow up in his face? “Excuse the intrusion” his ass; more like excuse the blatant eavesdropping. Besides, his proposition was just… weird. He sounded like Raimund when he first learned to speak Fódlan, all excessive formality and strange syntax. Maybe Jorah was biased, but everything about this rubbed him the wrong way.

“Well well, isn’t that polite of you!” Jorah remarked loudly, sauntering over and inserting himself into the conversation. He stepped slightly between Kayden and Clarissa. “And here I thought Imperial royalty never asked for anything. How wrong I was; your lovely fiancée must have given me the wrong impression.” He smiled jovially at Kayden, his distaste evident.

“I know what you mean, though; I’ve sorely missed riding myself lately. But I gotta say, the saddles here are not the best.” He punctuated the statement with an exaggerated stretch. “The horses are great though, Goddess bless them. Shame I can't say the same for the equipment; probably not up to royal standards.”

He shot a glance to Clarissa, one that she’d seen a hundred times back home in Derdriu that roughly translated to “please end this conversation.”

“Anyway, what’s this I hear about a ride?”

The Shattering of Aegis

_{✧ Location: Soft Haven Cemetery ✧ Purse: 12 copper ✧ @Everyone I guess ✧}

If the armed stranger disbelieved the lie, he didn’t argue it, instead correcting his comment on “aetheric entities.” Kyreth couldn’t help but frown. Their “essences” stood out to this man? That was the talk of fortune telling swindlers, not a rugged hedgeman who looked like he’d never walked the streets of a city in his life. Kyreth had to wonder what on earth the man was trying to sell them, but he spoke earnestly enough to satisfy the Tainted boy that he was telling the truth. Or his own understanding of the truth, anyway.

Kyreth’s already-frayed nerves were piqued further as the plucking of an instrument reached his ears from all around, just loud enough to be heard over the rustling of the underbrush. For a moment he wondered where Lilann suddenly found the confidence to start playing her little lyre, remembering how it plucked itself the night before. But far as he could tell, its strings laid still on her hip, and the sound came from no discernible direction. It made Kyreth uneasy – or uneasier – but it was soon drowned out by the clomping and creaking of a cart approaching on the adjacent road.

Kyreth gasped when Lilann suddenly halted, but she was only scoping out the road, donning a painted mask before she broke the tree line. A clever disguise, it hid her eyes well enough to mistake her for a tall halfling – or a short human – but he wondered if the mask itself had ever gotten her into trouble. People were distrustful of those who covered their faces, after all. But evidently, it worked well enough to get her this far.

While the other two broke out onto the road, Kyreth stayed behind, lingering just a few feet back from the tree line. Securing his hood with one hand, he watched the exchange on the road; they’d come across a strange trio indeed, though he supposed the same could be said about his little party. Most notably, there was a frightening green-skinned woman towering above the rest, speaking with a deep voice the likes of which Kyreth had never seen nor heard before. She was talking to a blonde, elvish woman who looked very much out of place, her looks and posture speaking of high breeding and clothed in some of the finest traveling garb Kyreth had ever seen. An official from Soft Haven, perhaps? Maybe checking on the Bounty House? That might have explained her presence, but her companion was her opposite in every way – skinny and sunken-faced, he looked like he’d fit in well in Urchin’s Run if not for the swirling mass of black shadows clinging to his head. Now that looked more like an “aetheric entity”.

Contrasting Lilann’s caution, the stranger – as yet unnamed, not that Kyreth cared to get to know him after having been on the business end of his sword – walked out onto the road with all the confidence of a normal traveler, asking for directions. If the scrawny kid’s comment was anything to go by, it seemed they were all headed to the same place. It occurred to Kyreth that this was his chance to turn around and leave this tense hostage march behind. A year ago he would have taken it, turning tail without a second thought. But to his surprise, his feet stayed planted; he wouldn’t leave Lilann alone with their dubiously sane ‘companion’ after all the kindness she’d afforded him.

Hey, maybe that was progress.

Nerves still positively buzzing, Kyreth forced a deep breath and mustered the courage to step out of the trees, pulling his hood down over his eyes as best he could. “Yeah, we're on our way there too,” he answered the teen in passing, barely loud enough to be heard as he shot an apologetic glance to Lilann for making her wait.

The Shattering of Aegis

_{✧ Location: Soft Haven Cemetery ✧ Purse: 12 copper ✧ @Mcmolly @Scribe of Thoth ✧}

As frustrated as Kyreth was, he wasn’t blind to the situation unfolding around him – one of very few merits of a childhood in the Dregs was a sort of beaten-in situational awareness. As such, his complaints were momentarily forgotten as he noticed how Lilann’s posture changed from alarmed to merely cautious, and how the armed newcomer peered sharply at the pair, deep in thought as Lilann confronted him. Kyreth almost gasped when she brushed the man’s accusations off so nonchalantly – surely she knew the gravity of the situation? Either she was simpler than she looked or she knew something he didn’t.

On closer inspection, it seemed like the latter was true. Kyreth had been so focused on the worn and polished edges of the newcomer’s blade that he failed to look beyond it; the man himself was dusty and a little disheveled, just out of order enough to have the look of someone who’d been on the road for a while. His clothing didn’t bear any of the hallmarks of uniform garb, no particular colour scheme or emblematic markings, and while Kyreth didn’t know Soft Haven’s standard well enough to pick their uniform from a lineup, he doubted any settlement would equip their guards as inconspicuously as this.

Kyreth was largely deaf to the conversation as the tense exchange dragged on, heartbeat still swooshing in his ears as he waited for the situation to inevitably deteriorate. His and Lilann’s heads snapped to the sound at the wall in unison, though he kept his eyes trained on the yellow-garbed visitors, ears straining to pick up their voices on the wind.

“We do the checks, we make sure nothing was distrubed…”

“Gunther’s gunna be pissed…”

Kyreth’s former panic came crashing back when snippets of the distant conversation reached his ears – there was no way those halflings weren’t talking about the mess they’d made, and as guilty as he felt, he did not want to be around when they looked up and found the culprits. It seemed he and Lilann were of one mind as she hastened up her conversation with the armed adventurer, rushing to appease him and get moving. Kyreth didn’t dare interrupt lest he disrupt the uneasy peace Lilann had managed to establish, and though it felt like an eternity passed, the adventurer eventually sheathed his sword and allowed Lilann to lead the way into the woods.

Kyreth followed without comment, his discomfort at letting the armed stranger walk at his back outweighed by his urgency to escape the graveyard as quickly as possible. Not until they were comfortably in the shade of the trees did he allow himself to breathe again, although breath still came shallow as he snuck constant nervous glances at the man behind him.

"So what were you doing, sleeping in that graveyard?"

“The inn was full,” came Kyreth’s stock reply, so immediate and automatic that it took the Tainted boy a moment to realize he’d said it out loud. Small wonder – that was the least conspicuous excuse he could come up with in the back of his mind – but not for the first time he was disturbed at how easily the lie flew off his tongue. A few years ago he might not have questioned it, but nowadays it was yet another unwelcome reminder of how naturally deceit came to him. He thought it was a trait native to his kind, but to his surprise, Lilann had yet to fall victim to the same impulse; even in such a tense situation as this, everything she’d said so far had been truthful.

Then what was he doing wrong?

Slowly, he tugged his hood down even lower, more careful than ever to keep his horns hidden from the stranger. It was stupid and dangerous to let quandaries like that get the better of him right now – especially when he had no way of knowing the man’s intentions. It was awfully convenient that he happened to be bound for the Bounty House at the same time as them, moments after brandishing his sword and asking after demons. Kyreth had to fight the urge to palm his knife – partly not wanting to fall to his gutter habits again, and partly fearing the move would prompt a response from the stranger – and his eyes flicked suspiciously over the trees, searching for anything out of place. Not like he knew much about forests, but if a group of thugs was lying in wait to jump them, he wanted to know when to run early.

Lilann was probably thinking the same thing; she walked on ahead casually enough, but the tense set of her shoulders and the way she tried to keep herself between himself and the stranger gave her away. She was just as tense as he was, just hiding it better. Kyreth wasn’t sure if that was a comfort.

Yet to his chagrin, the stranger marched on as casually as could be, chatting absently about “aetheric entities”, whatever those were. An awfully abrupt change from brandishing a sword moments before, but at least he wasn’t outright hostile anymore. Still, his ill-fitting nonchalance rang all of Kyreth’s alarm bells; he never knew humans of any stripe to be this comfortable around a single Tainted, let alone two. Lilann’s disguise was good, and his own worked well enough from a distance, but this close up, their eyes would be unmistakable. There was no way this guy didn’t know what he was walking with. So why so calm?

All those thoughts flashed through his mind in a fraction of a second, but just as soon as they came, he shoved them aside. It was smart to be observant, but letting his imagination run away to dark places would only make things worse. What was the stranger talking about again?

“I’m not sure what those are, but let’s hope we don’t run into any,” Kyreth commented flatly, sounding an awful lot like a teenager who wanted to end a conversation. He was tempted to ask if these “aetheric entities” had anything to do with the demons the stranger had mentioned, but something told him that was a route he didn’t want to tread. Hopefully idle chatter could keep the peace long enough for them to get within earshot of the Bounty House.

Obscene's Scratchpad

The Shattering of Aegis

_{✧ Location: Soft Haven Cemetery ✧ Purse: 12 copper ✧ @Mcmolly @Scribe of Thoth ✧}

What little glimmer of hope Kyreth had that this was all just a disturbing misunderstanding was dashed when Lilann confirmed that the marks were not her doing. While she didn’t seem nearly as unsettled as he thought she should have been, to no surprise she did share his fear of being blamed. Every Tainted had an instinct like that; wherever they tread, accidents and misfortunes magically became their doing.

“Bounty House, then? Before someone shows up with flowers for their nan and sees what's become of the place.”

“Y-yeah,” Kyreth nodded anxiously, peeling his eyes off the marks on the ground long enough to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind. He tried to smooth over one of the gouges with his foot as Lilann got her things together, but it was no use – the marks were too deep to be hidden by well-placed grass. He shuddered to think of how much work it would take to fill the gaps, and even then it would probably take weeks for the ground to settle properly. And that was to say nothing of the insult to the dead. Placing his hand over his pendant, Kyreth offered a near-silent prayer of apology to Selene for attracting the damage; she may not have been quite the right god to pray to on behalf of the dead, but the other gods probably wouldn’t accept a prayer from him anyway.

He was jarred from his prayer by the sound of footsteps coming from the forest, although the culprit made no effort to hide his presence. Instead, Kyreth's heart jumped into his throat as the shieldbearing stranger pointed a well-loved-looking sword in their direction and leveled the same accusations Kyreth was afraid of – albeit in an unexpected way.

“Su—? N-no!” Kyreth quickly stammered, taking a reflexive step back. Summon— like, summon a demon? Kyreth knew the Tainted were associated with the unholy, but the idea that someone would think they’d called on unholy forces to vandalize hadn’t crossed his mind. He thought they’d assume they desecrated the graveyard by hand – not that that was much better, but at least it wasn’t as serious as communing with demons right outside the town walls!

“These were here when we woke up,” he insisted hurriedly, trying his best to keep the wavering pitch of his voice in check. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened but I’m sure I can— I don’t have much money, but I can probably…”

Despite his efforts, Kyreth’s words got quieter until his voice died completely, the sentence hanging awkwardly in the air as he realized how hopeless the situation was turning out to be. He highly doubted this guard – or ranger, or whatever he was, touting a shield around like that – would believe him, and he was sure Soft Haven would rather hang him from the wall and leave the graveyard in shambles than allow him to repair the damage. His panic was replaced with sour regret as his pupil-less eyes fell to the ruined ground, Kyreth cursing himself and whatever foul curse of bad providence hung over him. Dammit! The bruises he got in Straithmoor hadn’t even fully healed yet, and already his chance at a new start was gone! Had he really sinned so badly that he was still being punished?

The Shattering of Aegis

_{✧ Location: Soft Haven Cemetery ✧ Purse: 12 copper ✧ @Mcmolly ✧}

All told, Kyreth’s arrival in Soft Haven – or more accurately, outside Soft Haven – was a lot calmer than he expected. In fact, he’d go so far to say it was actually kind of pleasant, which was a nice change of pace. He got to spend the night around a warm fire (thankfully, without incident), and for the first time in ages, got to have a bit of conversation. Well, “conversation” was a strong word, seeing as Lilann really did most of the talking on her own, but Kyreth was content to sit quietly and listen. The night was kind to them, withholding the typical late autumn rain, and Kyreth was surprised to find the Soft Haven cemetery a rather peaceful spot to sleep.

That wasn’t to say the night passed without incident, though. At one point, a horrible feeling of imminent danger shocked Kyreth from slumber, the boy shooting up like a sprung snare, pawing reflexively for his crescent. But, like so many other times he’d been started out of sleep, he saw nothing in the dark; no beast standing over him, no pitchfork-wielding mob, nothing. As such, he brushed it off as yet another case of some woodland sound startling him and managed to get back to sleep.

As usual, Kyreth woke again at first light, blinking groggily up at the still-dim sky as he gathered up his senses. He was well acquainted by now with the stiffness that came from sleeping on the ground, but his tail complained especially loudly this morning; he would usually have unbound it from his waist for the night, but opted to keep it hidden since he wasn’t alone. Before he even lifted his head, Kyreth closed his eyes once more and put his hands over the pendant on his heart, whispering a prayer of thanks to Selene for once more seeing him safely through the night.

Cold from the pre-dawn chill, Kyreth clutched his worn, dew-dampened cloak around him as he finally sat up, pawing blindly behind his head for the hood that had fallen off as he regained his bearings. Out of habit, he patted himself down for his belongings; knife, purse, crescent, cloak (obviously), and – oh, his packet of trail food was missing. Right, he’d shared some last night with Lilann. Absently wondering if he’d have enough left over to last him until his first Bounty House pay or if he’d have to buy more today, Kyreth looked around for the oilcloth packet, and found it on the grass next to him – and next to that, a bunch of deep, jagged gashes in the soil.

Kyreth withdrew his hand as if he’d seen a snake and scrambled to his feet, backing a few paces away as his tail squirmed nervously under its wrappings. The marks weren’t just there; there were many of them, stretching to each side until they encircled their whole camp.

“Li— uh, Lilann?” Kyreth rasped dryly, not taking his eyes off the marks. They looked fresh, tearing up the grass in what looked like a series of deep scratch marks. Were those there when he got here? It was too dark then to see the ground in any detail, but why would a graveyard be torn up like that? A wave of dread washed over Kyreth; not just fear of what sort of creature had to have prowled around them as they slept to make these, but a fear that a Soft Haven guard could come over any moment and blame him for ruining their graveyard.

No, no dammit, this had to be a misunderstanding, right? Nothing big enough to make those marks would pass through unnoticed – or without making a quick meal out of the two sleeping Tainted in its path. No, no way – sure, something woke him up, but he didn’t see anything, let alone something with claws big enough to do that.

Maybe Lilann would know. She was doing that weird ritual with the smoke when he arrived; maybe this was part of it. Yeah. He tried to clear his throat, calling out to Lilann again without taking his eyes off the marks on the ground. He did his best to keep the fear out of his voice, but he couldn’t purge the shakiness. “Was this part of your… funeral… thing?”

The Shattering of Aegis

I'm sorry. I didn't mean any harm.

“I don’t want any trouble.”

Male | 18 | 6’4” | 140lbs

Name

Kyreth

Appearance

Kyreth is very tall and slim, weighing about 160lbs with a wiry, sinewy build honed from a lifetime of odd jobs and limited food. His stark white hair is short and choppy, lying every which way even as he tries to brush it back, and the only “style” to speak of is the inconsistent lines of a haircut obviously done with a knife. His dark complexion hides the oft-present shadows under his eyes, and a tight-lipped nervous frown conceals a mouthful of sharp teeth.

Aside from his dark grey complexion and his speckling of white freckles, the first things people usually notice about Kyreth are his eyes; entirely white and pupil-less, they’re a dead giveaway of his Tainted blood, even if his horns and tail are covered. His horns are quite short and curl tightly over his head, making them mercifully easy to cover up. His tail is quite skinny as Tainted go, and long enough for the end to lay on the ground - if it ever decided to lay still, that is. It tapers smoothly to a point resembling half an arrowhead.

In an effort to make traveling a little easier, Kyreth hides his Tainted features to the best of his ability, concealing his horns with his hood and hiding his tail under his tunic, wrapped tightly around his waist. With his pointed ears, from a distance he can almost pass for a dark-skinned Elf, although the charade usually fails once anyone comes close enough to notice the distinct lack of pupils in his eyes.

Classification

Primordial - Fire

Abnormality

Kyreth has a spattering of white freckles on his face and body, concentrated around his cheekbones (especially the outer corners of his eyes) and the tips of his horns and tail. These freckles, along with his eyes, glow dimly in the dark.

Personality

Kyreth is non-confrontational to the bone. Fairly meek and lacking much confidence, he’ll take a lot in stride if it means avoiding a fight. In a group, he’s liable to try and play the mediator, but equally likely to get steamrolled if the parties aren’t convinced by his soft tone and shrinking presence. Still, he does his best to break up fights, even though the practice has earned him a few bumps and bruises in the past.

Abuse is a fact of life for the Tainted, and one Kyreth has grown to accept; when faced with contempt or even violence, he prefers to either escape the situation or endure until it’s over, often with an apology on his lips. While he plays the role of doormat well, he’s not driven so much by self-preservation, but by concern; he has a sickening fear that taking too much exception to “the everyday hassles of life” will only serve to embolden the more sinister part of him, making him do something he’ll regret. To Kyreth, a few scrapes and bruises from those who spurn his kind aren’t worth losing himself to his own innate savagery and confirming their fears.

Even as mankind rejects him, Kyreth also struggles to find community among his own kind. Although he grew up under the care of a protective Tainted community, he’s grown to become even more uncomfortable around them than he is around other races, feeling utterly alien with his aversion to dishonesty and violence. As such, he ended up in no man’s land, finding no home among the Tainted nor the rest of the world. Deep down, he worries that if he were to live among the Tainted again, as he used to, he’d revert back to his old ways and lose all the progress he’s made. Best not to stay too long.

Above all else, Kyreth just wants to lead an honest, unintrusive life. He’s gentle at heart, if a little guarded, and tries his best to be kind to anyone he meets - sometimes to degrees very much undeserved. It’s an uphill battle, but for Kyreth, every meek smile not returned or kind word answered with scorn is just one more step toward atoning for his ancestors’ sins - and his own.

Bio

The beginning of Kyreth’s story is not unique, at least among the Tainted.
Left on the doorstep of a Tainted orphanage in the Dregs of Buscon, he was just one of many helpless, crying babies disposed of the moment they opened their pupil-less eyes.

Although the world is a cold and dangerous place for the Tainted, for a blessing the Dregs were somewhat of a haven; with blades drawn and teeth bared to the rest of the world, the Tainted of Buscon fiercely looked after their own, and as such the many orphans of Urchin’s Run grew up with something of a family all around them. Tainted children were more or less welcome just about everywhere in the Dregs, and given guidance and leniency not afforded to outsiders. It was common for those in the community with a little to spare to kick some to the orphans, either in donations to the oft-crowded Dragon’s Clutch orphanage (originally named “Aziaza’s Refuge”, which understandably didn’t stick) or directly to the children themselves, who would often use their spoils to practice the bartering and swindling skills they picked up from their elders.

Things worked surprisingly smoothly. With outsiders generally wary of the Dregs, the insular Buscon Tainted managed to avoid much of the vitriol suffered by others of their kind, running an internal society relatively cut off from the rest of the city. Any outsiders naive enough to wander in usually regretted their time there, falling victim to pickpocketing and cheating at best, or violence at worst. Although conflict between Tainted often crackled, most fights were swiftly ended by bystanders and perpetrators ostracized for disturbing the peace; outsiders, however, were fair game.

And so it went. To Kyreth, it was normal; outsiders hated them, so any foolish enough to intrude on their one sanctuary got what was coming to them. Children were protected, but not coddled; Kyreth and every other child was expected to earn his own way and keep his head on a swivel; “You’ll need that skill one day,” as his elders always said. So, from the moment he was old enough to hold a broom, Kyreth worked; sweeping up taverns, running errands for brothel ladies, playing the innocent accomplice to swindlers - every job, no matter how dingy or underhanded, was worth the room and board it earned him.

But that didn’t mean he liked it. Kyreth was used to the harsh life of the Dregs, but he wasn’t well suited for it; in an uneasy peace maintained through necessity and a hierarchy of might, the skinny, small-horned boy fell squarely at the bottom of the totem pole. Averse to conflict and bad at it besides, Kyreth was easily pushed around by his peers and ordered hither and yon by his elders, with little capability or option to refuse. He made a habit of shrinking into corners when brawls broke out - and there were many - and always flinched at the blows and insults thrown around, no matter how many times he’d seen or heard them. The crass stories of tricking, cheating and beating outsiders that everyone else seemed to enjoy disturbed him, and even as he grew up and his peers grew into their underground society, the underhanded ways of the Dregs never stopped making Kyreth… uncomfortable.

Maybe that was why, despite his community’s tense closeness, Kyreth never really felt like one of them. In a pack of wolves, it seemed he was the runt, never strong or bold enough to bare his teeth like the others did, and shying away from the fervor of their voices when they howled. Though he’d never voice it, he could see why outsiders feared the Tainted; they thought his kind were traitors, devils, and worse - and after all he’d seen, who could blame them? The Dregs weren’t entirely bereft of kindness, but it was never offered to outsiders, who were ironically decried for their intolerance as the Tainted refused to tolerate them.

And that wasn’t even to mention Kyreth’s own sins. They started when he was young, too young to realize they even involved him, but whenever he got scared, or frustrated, or angry… accidents happened. Most of the time, it was just a bit of singed hair or a scorched hem after a particularly vexing scuffle with bigger kids, a leaping candle flame when a tavern patron said something particularly crass, but sometimes they were worse. Once, he set an outsider’s pantleg on fire by accident when the man tried to kick him out of the way, cursing at the “damn devils” in his path. Kyreth had heard the stories of the Tainted, how they were a cursed, fallen race, punished by Aziaza Herself for their alliance with the dragons - to him, it only made sense that his little “accidents” were a result of that unholy union. Why else would fires leap to life when he got angry, if not for some ancient draconic curse?

So he clung to the shadows, and did his best to contain the devil that seemed to dwell inside him. But when his whole world was a slum beset by crime and conflict, how could he possibly avoid feeding his sinister side? Avoiding confrontation was a delicate dance all on its own, let alone prying himself out of underground jobs he’d done for ages without protest. As time went on and keeping his darker side in check grew more and more demanding, Kyreth had no choice: he had to separate himself from the moral depravity of the Dregs and remove the temptation. No, it wasn’t just the Dregs - he had to get out of Buscon altogether, go somewhere new where he could get away from his dishonest life and start again.

So he did. As soon as winter ended in his eighteenth year, Kyreth gathered what few belongings he had and abruptly left, offering no explanation. Knowing only life in the bowels of Buscon, he laid eyes on what lay beyond the city walls for the first time and ventured out in search of something better.

That was the idea, anyway. In reality, it was a miserable endeavor; if it wasn’t hunger and cold snapping at his heels, it was other travelers throwing stones as he passed, or shops and villages chasing him away. More than once he found himself on the receiving end of violent thugs airing their grievances, and he could count on his fingers the number of nights he managed to spend under a roof. But, despite more than once yearning to return to the Dregs and put his lofty ideals behind him, Kyreth persevered, continuing his trek down the coast to Straithmoor. After all, those people were just scared - and Kyreth couldn’t blame them.

Straithmoor welcomed him as much as any other settlement along the way: with curses, stones and pitchforks. But as he searched on the edge of town for a good place to camp, Kyreth found something he didn’t expect: a tiny old woman mending a fence, calling out for him to help her. He didn’t believe it at first, thinking she must have meant to call for someone else, but there was nobody; it was just him, her, and a vast empty field. When he drew closer, he saw her cloudy grey eyes and for a second, thought she was another Tainted in disguise, living impossibly among this harsh and hostile town. But he was wrong - she was simply blind. No wonder she called out to him, she couldn’t see what he was.

Kyreth thought about outing himself to her - it would feel dishonest to lend a hand to someone who might not otherwise want it if they knew what he was - but decided to hold his tongue. After all, if she chased him off, her fence would stay broken, and that didn’t seem to be much help. Resolving to confess after his work was done, he followed her summons and helped her patch the fence. But just as he was about to inform her and take his leave, the woman asked another favour of him. Then another. And another. And more and more until he’d been sleeping in her shed and eating her food for two months in exchange for whatever help he could provide.

Food and board weren’t all she provided, either. She also provided company, companionship the likes of which Kyreth had never known before. He chalked it up to a lonely old woman wanting someone to talk to, but the reason didn’t really matter to him; he drank up every word, every second like a castaway finding fresh water. She told him stories about her late husband, the dedicated rancher; her sons, the fishermen, all dead now; and most importantly, she told him about Selene, lady of the moon and deliverer of the downtrodden.

Selene’s message touched Kyreth to the very core. The only god he knew much about before was Aziaza, who cast down the treacherous Illarin and would probably add every Tainted to her throne of bones upon their deaths - understandably, not an encouraging tale. But until now, Selene was unknown to him, and her mission of succor to the poor and suffering was the first glimpse of hope beyond death that Kyreth had ever seen. He latched on immediately, and became an adamant follower as soon as Berta taught him how. Impressed with his enthusiasm, she even gifted him the crescent hanging in her doorway, insisting that he needed the protection from bad luck more than she did.

Those two months were a dream come true for Kyreth, but sooner or later, everyone must wake. And Kyreth did wake; abruptly and violently. Having got it into his head that he would do something nice for Berta, he went into Straithmoor proper with some proceeds from her farm, hoping to trade them for a chunk of good swordfish - Berta’s favourite. But while the fishmonger took his payment, he wouldn’t hand over the fish. Instead, he laughed in Kyreth’s face, scoffing over the idea of trading with a devil.

Normally, the insult wouldn’t bother Kyreth, and he’d cut his losses and go away. But those were Berta’s wares the fishmonger had stolen, and Kyreth couldn’t tolerate that. As hard as he tried to contain himself, his temper flared - and so did a flame, catching the fishmonger’s stall alight and reducing it and his catch to ash. In an instant, the fishmonger and many of the passerby were on Kyreth, and it was all he could do to escape the town in one piece. He couldn’t go back to Berta’s house, fearing for her safety as well as his own, so he ran until his legs could no longer carry him and the shouts and torches faded into the night.

And that was it. A perfect dream, ruined in an instant. Kyreth was distraught, more convinced than ever that he harboured an evil that needed to be contained. But he still had to eat, and the winter cold was fast approaching, so he made for the road again. Apparently some establishment called a “Bounty House” had just opened in Finnagund, far away from anyone who knew who he was or what he’d done.

Likes

• Working - legitimately earning his keep gives him more satisfaction than anything else in the world.
• Helping people when he can
• Full moon nights - they make him feel like Selene is watching over him.
• Fish, almost any way

Dislikes

• Fire - accidents always seem to happen whenever he’s around it.
• Deceit - or anything dishonest, shady, or generally off the straight and narrow.
• Conflict
• Temples - despite his faith in Selene, he always feels like an intruder on holy ground.
• Meat, unless dried - there’s just something uneasy about eating something with blood.

Habits

• Looking over his shoulder
• Apologizing
• Checking his belongings
• Grabbing the back of his neck
• Hiding his teeth (for example, trying not to smile too wide)
• Clutching his Selene pendant when nervous

Inventory

Kyreth doesn’t have much, but he does make sure to carry:

• 12 copper
• A weathered, waist-length cloak with a large hood, fashioned from one piece of canvas. He’s had it since he was small enough for it to fall to his knees.
• A sturdy needle and a spool of strong linen thread
• An old single-edged knife, sharpened so many times that the blade has grown narrow
• A sharpening stone
• A large water skin
• An oilcloth bundle of cheap traveling food, like dried meat or fish skins
• A heavy, palm-sized Crescent of Selene, crudely fashioned from iron and worn under his tunic on a leather cord. This is without a doubt his most treasured possession.

Other

• Kyreth prefers to cover his horns with a hat if he can find one; he fears that walking around hooded all the time makes him look suspicious. Sadly, his only hat recently got destroyed in a Mishap, so it’s back to hoods for now.
• Like most Tainted, Kyreth’s tail is very reactive to his emotions, so it can be difficult to conceal wrapped around his waist. As such, he prefers to keep his cloak on whenever possible.
• Growing up in gambling houses got Kyreth pretty good at Buscon’s most popular games of chance - and especially good at cheating. However, he renounced that practice years ago in pursuit of leading a more honest life.
• Kyreth keeps a careful mental account of favours and debts, a carryover from the Dregs where such things were taken very seriously. However, these days he often neglects to collect on them, and tries his best to give without expectation of return.
• At RP start, Kyreth has a shadowy mark on the left side of his face, which is the remnant of a nearly-healed bruise from his escape from Straithmoor.

The Shattering of Aegis

I'm sorry. I didn't mean any harm.

“I don’t want any trouble.”

Male | 18 | 5’11” | 140lbs

Name

Kyreth

Appearance

Kyreth is fairly tall and slim, weighing about 140lbs with a wiry, sinewy build honed from a lifetime of odd jobs and limited food. His stark white hair is short and choppy, lying every which way even as he tries to brush it back, and the only “style” to speak of is the inconsistent lines of a haircut obviously done with a knife. His dark complexion hides the oft-present shadows under his eyes, and a tight-lipped nervous frown conceals a mouthful of sharp teeth.

Aside from his dark grey complexion and his speckling of white freckles, the first things people usually notice about Kyreth are his eyes; entirely white and pupil-less, they’re a dead giveaway of his Tainted blood, even if his horns and tail are covered. His horns are quite short and curl tightly over his head, making them mercifully easy to cover up. His tail is quite skinny as Tainted go, and long enough for the end to lay on the ground - if it ever decided to lay still, that is. It tapers smoothly to a point resembling half an arrowhead.

In an effort to make traveling a little easier, Kyreth hides his Tainted features to the best of his ability, concealing his horns with his hood and hiding his tail under his tunic, wrapped tightly around his waist. With his pointed ears, from a distance he can almost pass for a dark-skinned Elf, although the charade usually fails once anyone comes close enough to notice the distinct lack of pupils in his eyes.

Classification

Primordial - Fire

Abnormality

Kyreth has a spattering of white freckles on his face and body, concentrated around his cheekbones (especially the outer corners of his eyes) and the tips of his horns and tail. These freckles, along with his eyes, glow dimly in the dark.

Personality

Kyreth is non-confrontational to the bone. Fairly meek and lacking much confidence, he’ll take a lot in stride if it means avoiding a fight. In a group, he’s liable to try and play the mediator, but equally likely to get steamrolled if the parties aren’t convinced by his soft tone and shrinking presence. Still, he does his best to break up fights, even though the practice has earned him a few bumps and bruises in the past.

Abuse is a fact of life for the Tainted, and one Kyreth has grown to accept; when faced with contempt or even violence, he prefers to either escape the situation or endure until it’s over, often with an apology on his lips. While he plays the role of doormat well, he’s not driven so much by self-preservation, but by concern; he has a sickening fear that taking too much exception to “the everyday hassles of life” will only serve to embolden the more sinister part of him, making him do something he’ll regret. To Kyreth, a few scrapes and bruises from those who spurn his kind aren’t worth losing himself to his own innate savagery and confirming their fears.

Even as mankind rejects him, Kyreth also struggles to find community among his own kind. Although he grew up under the care of a protective Tainted community, he’s grown to become even more uncomfortable around them than he is around other races, feeling utterly alien with his aversion to dishonesty and violence. As such, he ended up in no man’s land, finding no home among the Tainted nor the rest of the world. Deep down, he worries that if he were to live among the Tainted again, as he used to, he’d revert back to his old ways and lose all the progress he’s made. Best not to stay too long.

Above all else, Kyreth just wants to lead an honest, unintrusive life. He’s gentle at heart, if a little guarded, and tries his best to be kind to anyone he meets - sometimes to degrees very much undeserved. It’s an uphill battle, but for Kyreth, every meek smile not returned or kind word answered with scorn is just one more step toward atoning for his ancestors’ sins - and his own.

Bio

The beginning of Kyreth’s story is not unique, at least among the Tainted.
Left on the doorstep of a Tainted orphanage in the Dregs of Buscon, he was just one of many helpless, crying babies disposed of the moment they opened their pupil-less eyes.

Although the world is a cold and dangerous place for the Tainted, for a blessing the Dregs were somewhat of a haven; with blades drawn and teeth bared to the rest of the world, the Tainted of Buscon fiercely looked after their own, and as such the many orphans of Urchin’s Run grew up with something of a family all around them. Tainted children were more or less welcome just about everywhere in the Dregs, and given guidance and leniency not afforded to outsiders. It was common for those in the community with a little to spare to kick some to the orphans, either in donations to the oft-crowded Dragon’s Clutch orphanage (originally named “Aziaza’s Refuge”, which understandably didn’t stick) or directly to the children themselves, who would often use their spoils to practice the bartering and swindling skills they picked up from their elders.

Things worked surprisingly smoothly. With outsiders generally wary of the Dregs, the insular Buscon Tainted managed to avoid much of the vitriol suffered by others of their kind, running an internal society relatively cut off from the rest of the city. Any outsiders naive enough to wander in usually regretted their time there, falling victim to pickpocketing and cheating at best, or violence at worst. Although conflict between Tainted often crackled, most fights were swiftly ended by bystanders and perpetrators ostracized for disturbing the peace; outsiders, however, were fair game.

And so it went. To Kyreth, it was normal; outsiders hated them, so any foolish enough to intrude on their one sanctuary got what was coming to them. Children were protected, but not coddled; Kyreth and every other child was expected to earn his own way and keep his head on a swivel; “You’ll need that skill one day,” as his elders always said. So, from the moment he was old enough to hold a broom, Kyreth worked; sweeping up taverns, running errands for brothel ladies, playing the innocent accomplice to swindlers - every job, no matter how dingy or underhanded, was worth the room and board it earned him.

But that didn’t mean he liked it. Kyreth was used to the harsh life of the Dregs, but he wasn’t well suited for it; in an uneasy peace maintained through necessity and a hierarchy of might, the skinny, small-horned boy fell squarely at the bottom of the totem pole. Averse to conflict and bad at it besides, Kyreth was easily pushed around by his peers and ordered hither and yon by his elders, with little capability or option to refuse. He made a habit of shrinking into corners when brawls broke out - and there were many - and always flinched at the blows and insults thrown around, no matter how many times he’d seen or heard them. The crass stories of tricking, cheating and beating outsiders that everyone else seemed to enjoy disturbed him, and even as he grew up and his peers grew into their underground society, the underhanded ways of the Dregs never stopped making Kyreth… uncomfortable.

Maybe that was why, despite his community’s tense closeness, Kyreth never really felt like one of them. In a pack of wolves, it seemed he was the runt, never strong or bold enough to bare his teeth like the others did, and shying away from the fervor of their voices when they howled. Though he’d never voice it, he could see why outsiders feared the Tainted; they thought his kind were traitors, devils, and worse - and after all he’d seen, who could blame them? The Dregs weren’t entirely bereft of kindness, but it was never offered to outsiders, who were ironically decried for their intolerance as the Tainted refused to tolerate them.

And that wasn’t even to mention Kyreth’s own sins. They started when he was young, too young to realize they even involved him, but whenever he got scared, or frustrated, or angry… accidents happened. Most of the time, it was just a bit of singed hair or a scorched hem after a particularly vexing scuffle with bigger kids, a leaping candle flame when a tavern patron said something particularly crass, but sometimes they were worse. Once, he set an outsider’s pantleg on fire by accident when the man tried to kick him out of the way, cursing at the “damn devils” in his path. Kyreth had heard the stories of the Tainted, how they were a cursed, fallen race, punished by Aziaza Herself for their alliance with the dragons - to him, it only made sense that his little “accidents” were a result of that unholy union. Why else would fires leap to life when he got angry, if not for some ancient draconic curse?

So he clung to the shadows, and did his best to contain the devil that seemed to dwell inside him. But when his whole world was a slum beset by crime and conflict, how could he possibly avoid feeding his sinister side? Avoiding confrontation was a delicate dance all on its own, let alone prying himself out of underground jobs he’d done for ages without protest. As time went on and keeping his darker side in check grew more and more demanding, Kyreth had no choice: he had to separate himself from the moral depravity of the Dregs and remove the temptation. No, it wasn’t just the Dregs - he had to get out of Buscon altogether, go somewhere new where he could get away from his dishonest life and start again.

So he did. As soon as winter ended in his eighteenth year, Kyreth gathered what few belongings he had and abruptly left, offering no explanation. Knowing only life in the bowels of Buscon, he laid eyes on what lay beyond the city walls for the first time and ventured out in search of something better.

That was the idea, anyway. In reality, it was a miserable endeavor; if it wasn’t hunger and cold snapping at his heels, it was other travelers throwing stones as he passed, or shops and villages chasing him away. More than once he found himself on the receiving end of violent thugs airing their grievances, and he could count on his fingers the number of nights he managed to spend under a roof. But, despite more than once yearning to return to the Dregs and put his lofty ideals behind him, Kyreth persevered, continuing his trek down the coast to Straithmoor. After all, those people were just scared - and Kyreth couldn’t blame them.

Straithmoor welcomed him as much as any other settlement along the way: with curses, stones and pitchforks. But as he searched on the edge of town for a good place to camp, Kyreth found something he didn’t expect: a tiny old woman mending a fence, calling out for him to help her. He didn’t believe it at first, thinking she must have meant to call for someone else, but there was nobody; it was just him, her, and a vast empty field. When he drew closer, he saw her cloudy grey eyes and for a second, thought she was another Tainted in disguise, living impossibly among this harsh and hostile town. But he was wrong - she was simply blind. No wonder she called out to him, she couldn’t see what he was.

Kyreth thought about outing himself to her - it would feel dishonest to lend a hand to someone who might not otherwise want it if they knew what he was - but decided to hold his tongue. After all, if she chased him off, her fence would stay broken, and that didn’t seem to be much help. Resolving to confess after his work was done, he followed her summons and helped her patch the fence. But just as he was about to inform her and take his leave, the woman asked another favour of him. Then another. And another. And more and more until he’d been sleeping in her shed and eating her food for two months in exchange for whatever help he could provide.

Food and board weren’t all she provided, either. She also provided company, companionship the likes of which Kyreth had never known before. He chalked it up to a lonely old woman wanting someone to talk to, but the reason didn’t really matter to him; he drank up every word, every second like a castaway finding fresh water. She told him stories about her late husband, the dedicated rancher; her sons, the fishermen, all dead now; and most importantly, she told him about Selene, lady of the moon and deliverer of the downtrodden.

Selene’s message touched Kyreth to the very core. The only god he knew much about before was Aziaza, who cast down the treacherous Illarin and would probably add every Tainted to her throne of bones upon their deaths - understandably, not an encouraging tale. But until now, Selene was unknown to him, and her mission of succor to the poor and suffering was the first glimpse of hope beyond death that Kyreth had ever seen. He latched on immediately, and became an adamant follower as soon as Berta taught him how. Impressed with his enthusiasm, she even gifted him the crescent hanging in her doorway, insisting that he needed the protection from bad luck more than she did.

Those two months were a dream come true for Kyreth, but sooner or later, everyone must wake. And Kyreth did wake; abruptly and violently. Having got it into his head that he would do something nice for Berta, he went into Straithmoor proper with some proceeds from her farm, hoping to trade them for a chunk of good swordfish - Berta’s favourite. But while the fishmonger took his payment, he wouldn’t hand over the fish. Instead, he laughed in Kyreth’s face, scoffing over the idea of trading with a devil.

Normally, the insult wouldn’t bother Kyreth, and he’d cut his losses and go away. But those were Berta’s wares the fishmonger had stolen, and Kyreth couldn’t tolerate that. As hard as he tried to contain himself, his temper flared - and so did a flame, catching the fishmonger’s stall alight and reducing it and his catch to ash. In an instant, the fishmonger and many of the passerby were on Kyreth, and it was all he could do to escape the town in one piece. He couldn’t go back to Berta’s house, fearing for her safety as well as his own, so he ran until his legs could no longer carry him and the shouts and torches faded into the night.

And that was it. A perfect dream, ruined in an instant. Kyreth was distraught, more convinced than ever that he harboured an evil that needed to be contained. But he still had to eat, and the winter cold was fast approaching, so he made for the road again. Apparently some establishment called a “Bounty House” had just opened in Finnagund, far away from anyone who knew who he was or what he’d done.

Likes

• Working - legitimately earning his keep gives him more satisfaction than anything else in the world.
• Helping people when he can
• Full moon nights - they make him feel like Selene is watching over him.
• Fish, almost any way

Dislikes

• Fire - accidents always seem to happen whenever he’s around it.
• Deceit - or anything dishonest, shady, or generally off the straight and narrow.
• Conflict
• Temples - despite his faith in Selene, he always feels like an intruder on holy ground.
• Meat, unless dried - there’s just something uneasy about eating something with blood.

Habits

• Looking over his shoulder
• Apologizing
• Checking his belongings
• Grabbing the back of his neck
• Hiding his teeth (for example, trying not to smile too wide)
• Clutching his Selene pendant when nervous

Inventory

Kyreth doesn’t have much, but he does make sure to carry:

• 12 copper
• A weathered, waist-length cloak with a large hood, fashioned from one piece of canvas. He’s had it since he was small enough for it to fall to his knees.
• A sturdy needle and a spool of strong linen thread
• An old single-edged knife, sharpened so many times that the blade has grown narrow
• A sharpening stone
• A large water skin
• An oilcloth bundle of cheap traveling food, like dried meat or fish skins
• A heavy, palm-sized Crescent of Selene, crudely fashioned from iron and worn under his tunic on a leather cord. This is without a doubt his most treasured possession.

Other

• Kyreth prefers to cover his horns with a hat if he can find one; he fears that walking around hooded all the time makes him look suspicious. Sadly, his only hat recently got destroyed in a Mishap, so it’s back to hoods for now.
• Like most Tainted, Kyreth’s tail is very reactive to his emotions, so it can be difficult to conceal wrapped around his waist. As such, he prefers to keep his cloak on whenever possible.
• Growing up in gambling houses got Kyreth pretty good at Buscon’s most popular games of chance - and especially good at cheating. However, he renounced that practice years ago in pursuit of leading a more honest life.
• At RP start, Kyreth has a shadowy mark on the left side of his face, which is the remnant of a nearly-healed bruise from his escape from Straithmoor.

Obscene's Scratchpad

“I don’t want any trouble.”

Male | 18 | 5’11” | 140lbs

Name

Kyreth

Appearance

Kyreth is fairly tall and slim, with a wiry, sinewy build honed from a lifetime of odd jobs and limited food. His stark white hair is short and choppy, lying every which way even as he tries to brush it back, and the only “style” to speak of is the inconsistent lines of a haircut obviously done with a knife. His dark complexion hides the oft-present shadows under his eyes, and a tight-lipped nervous frown conceals a mouthful of sharp teeth.

Aside from his dark grey complexion and his speckling of white freckles, the first things people usually notice about Kyreth are his eyes; entirely white and pupil-less, they’re a dead giveaway of his Tainted blood, even if his horns and tail are covered. His horns are quite short and curl tightly over his head, making them mercifully easy to cover up. His tail is quite skinny as Tainted go, and long enough for the end to lay on the ground - if it ever decided to lay still, that is. It tapers smoothly to a point resembling half an arrowhead.

In an effort to make traveling a little easier, Kyreth hides his Tainted features to the best of his ability, concealing his horns with his hood and hiding his tail under his tunic, wrapped tightly around his waist. With his pointed ears, from a distance he can almost pass for a dark-skinned Elf, although the charade usually fails once anyone comes close enough to notice the distinct lack of pupils in his eyes.

Classification

Primordial - Fire

Abnormality

Kyreth has a spattering of white freckles on his face and body, concentrated around his cheekbones (especially the outer corners of his eyes) and the tips of his horns and tail. These freckles, along with his eyes, glow dimly in the dark.

Personality

Kyreth is non-confrontational to the bone. Fairly meek and lacking much confidence, he’ll take a lot in stride if it means avoiding a fight. In a group, he’s liable to try and play the mediator, but equally likely to get steamrolled if the parties aren’t convinced by his soft tone and shrinking presence. Still, he does his best to break up fights, even though the practice has earned him a few bumps and bruises in the past.

Abuse is a fact of life for the Tainted, and one Kyreth has grown to accept; when faced with contempt or even violence, he prefers to either escape the situation or endure until it’s over, often with an apology on his lips. While he plays the role of doormat well, he’s not driven so much by self-preservation, but by concern; he has a sickening fear that taking too much exception to “the everyday hassles of life” will only serve to embolden the more sinister part of him, making him do something he’ll regret. To Kyreth, a few scrapes and bruises from those who spurn his kind aren’t worth losing himself to his own innate savagery and confirming their fears.

Even as mankind rejects him, Kyreth also struggles to find community among his own kind. Although he grew up under the care of a protective Tainted community, he’s grown to become even more uncomfortable around them than he is around other races, feeling utterly alien with his aversion to dishonesty and violence. As such, he ended up in no man’s land, finding no home among the Tainted nor the rest of the world. Deep down, he worries that if he were to live among the Tainted again, as he used to, he’d revert back to his old ways and lose all the progress he’s made. Best not to stay too long.

Above all else, Kyreth just wants to lead an honest, unintrusive life. He’s gentle at heart, if a little guarded, and tries his best to be kind to anyone he meets - sometimes to degrees very much undeserved. It’s an uphill battle, but for Kyreth, every meek smile not returned or kind word answered with scorn is just one more step toward atoning for his ancestors’ sins - and his own.

Bio

The beginning of Kyreth’s story is not unique, at least among the Tainted.
Left on the doorstep of a Tainted orphanage in the Dregs of Buscon, he was just one of many helpless, crying babies disposed of the moment they opened their pupil-less eyes.

Although the world is a cold and dangerous place for the Tainted, for a blessing the Dregs were somewhat of a haven; with blades drawn and teeth bared to the rest of the world, the Tainted of Buscon fiercely looked after their own, and as such the many orphans of Urchin’s Run grew up with something of a family all around them. Tainted children were more or less welcome just about everywhere in the Dregs, and given guidance and leniency not afforded to outsiders. It was common for those in the community with a little to spare to kick some to the orphans, either in donations to the oft-crowded Dragon’s Clutch orphanage (originally named “Aziaza’s Refuge”, which understandably didn’t stick) or directly to the children themselves, who would often use their spoils to practice the bartering and swindling skills they picked up from their elders.

Things worked surprisingly smoothly. With outsiders generally wary of the Dregs, the insular Buscon Tainted managed to avoid much of the vitriol suffered by others of their kind, running an internal society relatively cut off from the rest of the city. Any outsiders naive enough to wander in usually regretted their time there, falling victim to pickpocketing and cheating at best, or violence at worst. Although conflict between Tainted often crackled, most fights were swiftly ended by bystanders and perpetrators ostracized for disturbing the peace; outsiders, however, were fair game.

And so it went. To Kyreth, it was normal; outsiders hated them, so any foolish enough to intrude on their one sanctuary got what was coming to them. Children were protected, but not coddled; Kyreth and every other child was expected to earn his own way and keep his head on a swivel; “You’ll need that skill one day,” as his elders always said. So, from the moment he was old enough to hold a broom, Kyreth worked; sweeping up taverns, running errands for brothel ladies, playing the innocent accomplice to swindlers - every job, no matter how dingy or underhanded, was worth the room and board it earned him.

But that didn’t mean he liked it. Kyreth was used to the harsh life of the Dregs, but he wasn’t well suited for it; in an uneasy peace maintained through necessity and a hierarchy of might, the skinny, small-horned boy fell squarely at the bottom of the totem pole. Averse to conflict and bad at it besides, Kyreth was easily pushed around by his peers and ordered hither and yon by his elders, with little capability or option to refuse. He made a habit of shrinking into corners when brawls broke out - and there were many - and always flinched at the blows and insults thrown around, no matter how many times he’d seen or heard them. The crass stories of tricking, cheating and beating outsiders that everyone else seemed to enjoy disturbed him, and even as he grew up and his peers grew into their underground society, the underhanded ways of the Dregs never stopped making Kyreth… uncomfortable.

Maybe that was why, despite his community’s tense closeness, Kyreth never really felt like one of them. In a pack of wolves, it seemed he was the runt, never strong or bold enough to bare his teeth like the others did, and shying away from the fervor of their voices when they howled. Though he’d never voice it, he could see why outsiders feared the Tainted; they thought his kind were traitors, devils, and worse - and after all he’d seen, who could blame them? The Dregs weren’t entirely bereft of kindness, but it was never offered to outsiders, who were ironically decried for their intolerance as the Tainted refused to tolerate them.

And that wasn’t even to mention Kyreth’s own sins. They started when he was young, too young to realize they even involved him, but whenever he got scared, or frustrated, or angry… accidents happened. Most of the time, it was just a bit of singed hair or a scorched hem after a particularly vexing scuffle with bigger kids, a leaping candle flame when a tavern patron said something particularly crass, but sometimes they were worse. Once, he set an outsider’s pantleg on fire by accident when the man tried to kick him out of the way, cursing at the “damn devils” in his path. Kyreth had heard the stories of the Tainted, how they were a cursed, fallen race, punished by Aziaza Herself for their alliance with the dragons - to him, it only made sense that his little “accidents” were a result of that unholy union. Why else would fires leap to life when he got angry, if not for some ancient draconic curse?

So he clung to the shadows, and did his best to contain the devil that seemed to dwell inside him. But when his whole world was a slum beset by crime and conflict, how could he possibly avoid feeding his sinister side? Avoiding confrontation was a delicate dance all on its own, let alone prying himself out of underground jobs he’d done for ages without protest. As time went on and keeping his darker side in check grew more and more demanding, Kyreth had no choice: he had to separate himself from the moral depravity of the Dregs and remove the temptation. No, it wasn’t just the Dregs - he had to get out of Buscon altogether, go somewhere new where he could get away from his dishonest life and start again.

So he did. As soon as winter ended in his eighteenth year, Kyreth gathered what few belongings he had and abruptly left, offering no explanation. Knowing only life in the bowels of Buscon, he laid eyes on what lay beyond the city walls for the first time and ventured out in search of something better.

That was the idea, anyway. In reality, it was a miserable endeavor; if it wasn’t hunger and cold snapping at his heels, it was other travelers throwing stones as he passed, or shops and villages chasing him away. More than once he found himself on the receiving end of violent thugs airing their grievances, and he could count on his fingers the number of nights he managed to spend under a roof. But, despite more than once yearning to return to the Dregs and put his lofty ideals behind him, Kyreth persevered, continuing his trek down the coast to Straithmoor. After all, those people were just scared - and Kyreth couldn’t blame them.

Straithmoor welcomed him as much as any other settlement along the way: with curses, stones and pitchforks. But as he searched on the edge of town for a good place to camp, Kyreth found something he didn’t expect: a tiny old woman mending a fence, calling out for him to help her. He didn’t believe it at first, thinking she must have meant to call for someone else, but there was nobody; it was just him, her, and a vast empty field. When he drew closer, he saw her cloudy grey eyes and for a second, thought she was another Tainted in disguise, living impossibly among this harsh and hostile town. But he was wrong - she was simply blind. No wonder she called out to him, she couldn’t see what he was.

Kyreth thought about outing himself to her - it would feel dishonest to lend a hand to someone who might not otherwise want it if they knew what he was - but decided to hold his tongue. After all, if she chased him off, her fence would stay broken, and that didn’t seem to be much help. Resolving to confess after his work was done, he followed her summons and helped her patch the fence. But just as he was about to inform her and take his leave, the woman asked another favour of him. Then another. And another. And more and more until he’d been sleeping in her shed and eating her food for two months in exchange for whatever help he could provide.

Food and board weren’t all she provided, either. She also provided company, companionship the likes of which Kyreth had never known before. He chalked it up to a lonely old woman wanting someone to talk to, but the reason didn’t really matter to him; he drank up every word, every second like a castaway finding fresh water. She told him stories about her late husband, the dedicated rancher; her sons, the fishermen, all dead now; and most importantly, she told him about Selene, lady of the moon and deliverer of the downtrodden.

Selene’s message touched Kyreth to the very core. The only god he knew much about before was Aziaza, who cast down the treacherous Illarin and would probably add every Tainted to her throne of bones upon their deaths - understandably, not an encouraging tale. But until now, Selene was unknown to him, and her mission of succor to the poor and suffering was the first glimpse of hope beyond death that Kyreth had ever seen. He latched on immediately, and became an adamant follower as soon as Berta taught him how. Impressed with his enthusiasm, she even gifted him the crescent hanging in her doorway, insisting that he needed the protection from bad luck more than she did.

Those two months were a dream come true for Kyreth, but sooner or later, everyone must wake. And Kyreth did wake; abruptly and violently. Having got it into his head that he would do something nice for Berta, he went into Straithmoor proper with some proceeds from her farm, hoping to trade them for a chunk of good swordfish - Berta’s favourite. But while the fishmonger took his payment, he wouldn’t hand over the fish. Instead, he laughed in Kyreth’s face, scoffing over the idea of trading with a devil.

Normally, the insult wouldn’t bother Kyreth, and he’d cut his losses and go away. But those were Berta’s wares the fishmonger had stolen, and Kyreth couldn’t tolerate that. As hard as he tried to contain himself, his temper flared - and so did a flame, catching the fishmonger’s stall alight and reducing it and his catch to ash. In an instant, the fishmonger and many of the passerby were on Kyreth, and it was all he could do to escape the town in one piece. He couldn’t go back to Berta’s house, fearing for her safety as well as his own, so he ran until his legs could no longer carry him and the shouts and torches faded into the night.

And that was it. A perfect dream, ruined in an instant. Kyreth was distraught, more convinced than ever that he harboured an evil that needed to be contained. But he still had to eat, and the winter cold was fast approaching, so he made for the road again. Apparently some establishment called a “Bounty House” had just opened in Finnagund, far away from anyone who knew who he was or what he’d done.

Likes

• Working - legitimately earning his keep gives him more satisfaction than anything else in the world.
• Helping people when he can
• Full moon nights - they make him feel like Selene is watching over him.
• Fish, almost any way

Dislikes

• Fire - accidents always seem to happen whenever he’s around it.
• Deceit - or anything dishonest, shady, or generally off the straight and narrow.
• Conflict
• Temples - despite his faith in Selene, he always feels like an intruder on holy ground.
• Meat, unless dried - there’s just something uneasy about eating something with blood.

Habits

• Looking over his shoulder
• Apologizing
• Checking his belongings
• Grabbing the back of his neck
• Hiding his teeth (for example, trying not to smile too wide)
• Clutching his Selene pendant when nervous

Inventory

Kyreth doesn’t have much, but he does make sure to carry:

• A weathered, waist-length cloak with a large hood, fashioned from one piece of canvas. He’s had it since he was small enough for it to fall to his knees.
• A sturdy needle and a spool of strong linen thread
• An old single-edged knife, sharpened so many times that the blade has grown narrow
• A sharpening stone
• A large water skin
• An oilcloth bundle of cheap traveling food, like dried meat or fish skins
• A heavy, palm-sized Crescent of Selene, crudely fashioned from iron and worn under his tunic on a leather cord. This is without a doubt his most treasured possession.

Other

• Kyreth prefers to cover his horns with a hat if he can find one; he fears that walking around hooded all the time makes him look suspicious. Sadly, his only hat recently got destroyed in a Mishap, so it’s back to hoods for now.
• Like most Tainted, Kyreth’s tail is very reactive to his emotions, so it can be difficult to conceal wrapped around his waist. As such, he prefers to keep his cloak on whenever possible.
• Growing up in gambling houses got Kyreth pretty good at Buscon’s most popular games of chance - and especially good at cheating. However, he renounced that practice years ago in pursuit of leading a more honest life.

Obscene's Scratchpad

joey thing ideas
name: Kyreth (maybe goes by Kyr/Kyrin?)
race: Tainted who tries and fails to pose as an elf
age: 18-19

pics

HAT

Born in some city centre to some cheating bitch who got rid of him asap (possibly a bastard of some then-unmarried rich/noble woman?)

Grew up in orphanage until he was old enough to start working for food/lodging (~7) (has no surname)

Worked in various taverns/brothels/drug dens doing menial tasks (clearing dishes, other chores) for food, had some minor fire accidents, not understanding why

Also got roped into all sorts of untoward schemes because he was hungry and kids are great for staging thefts

Wasn't taught much about his heritage, just that Tainted are supposedly cursed demonic traitors and that a lot of the Tainted he grew up around seemed to embrace that stereotype

Kyreth wasn't cut out for that kind of life, he didn't want to take advantage of people, didn't like the cutthroat lifestyle, just wanted to make an honest living (but there's nobody honest in Urchin's Run or the Reprieve and honest folk outside of Buscon don't hire Tainted)

Eventually went to Straithmoor, struggled to find work but ended up with a steady setup doing odd jobs for a blind old lady who befriended him and introduced him to Selene

Taken by the first truly kind soul he'd ever really met and receptive to the message of deliverance for the downtrodden, the faith became a lifeline for him. The old lady gifted him a crude iron crescent that he treasures and keeps around his neck on a leather cord at all times.

Eventually causes another accident (setting the neighbour's thatch roof on fire?) and is run out of Straithmoor, now he has to find work elsewhere and he's heartbroken about having to leave his gentle old friend



Took a walk to the summit at night
To burn a hole in the old grip of the familiar
And the dark was opening wide
Do or die

TEST TEST