DEVOUR YOUR HEART!
That is the only way to rebel against the cruel world!
My soldiers, rage!
My soldiers, scream!
MY SOLDIERS, FIGHT! -- Anon Guest
Horseshit, thought Kosh, listening to this maniac leading the band of irregulars. He had only joined them because he and they were traveling in the same direction. Safety in numbers, and he was especially fragile following his great shame. Poisoned while under the care of the Master. It may have been better if he'd died.
His heart was the only reason he kept living. Without emotions, he would not still live. He kept going out of spite. Out of sworn love for his unmet bride, the poor creature. Out of bloody-minded determination to prove the entire world wrong regarding every single thing they said about Tieflings like him. If he had no heart, then he had no mercy, no compassion, no sense of justice.
He was not a heartless Tiefling, but he was not a cowardly one either. His goal was to stay alive long enough to get back to his home. Home. Ha. As if he could call anywhere home.
They said, home is where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in. Both cases were true. Whitekeep was the only place he could even hope for safety and, perhaps, unriddle what he should not have survived.
But first, he had to survive this.
He stayed back with the bowmen, relying on the safety of the meat wall thrown against the foe. Picking off targets with some decent accuracy. Whatever reward the madman sought was of no interest to him. He would take his pay, take some rations, and keep heading towards the other side of the world.
East. Always East. Once he got to Waterdeep, he would easily know his way home. Ha. As close to home as any like him could hope for.
The maniac who advised heartlessness underpaid him. He took the worth of the extra gold in a sword that would serve for now. He would hear later about a new heartless lord sowing strife in later months. There would be other heroes to deal with that. Any man who could afford armies would not be defeated by one weak and pitiful Tiefling.
The smaller towns and villages treated him like a wonder. One's a curiosity. Answering invasive questions was just another way to pay for a meal and a corner to meditate in. The larger ones treated him with suspicion. Two's a conspiracy. The cities had at least one Watchman dogging his tail at all hours. Three's a crime.
That was when he started telling his joke to travelers and caravans kind enough to loan him a seat. "You know what they say about Tieflingen... one's a curiosity. Two's a conspiracy. Three's a crime," he would say. "You know what they call more than three Tieflingen?"
Inevitably, someone would ask. Inevitably, he would crow, "Run out of town!" Then laugh. It was one of the few times he had occasion to laugh at all. Nevertheless, he had a smile for the world. Let them see his mouth full of sharp and wonder how hard he could bite.
A mask of smiles. A glib readiness to handle whatever the world threw at him, and it threw a lot. A sharp wit and a quick mouth. They were all the armour he had.
It was broken, battered, blackened, and ruined... but he did have a heart. It was not worth any man's war.
Hurt though it may, he would keep it.
Otherwise, he would be just another monster.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / NomadSoul1]
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