Post by allthekingsmen on Apr 12, 2018 0:04:31 GMT -5
The half-orc orphanage in the town of Palischuk, was eerily quiet. All the children were asleep, and most of the caretakers passed out drunk. Palischuk, in the province of Vassa, was a small city consisting of mostly half-orcs who lived together in harmony for the most part.
Mekros Hazzal was fast asleep on his pallet in the corner of the large room. At 6 years old, the memory of his abandonment a year ago was still fresh in his mind. In his dream, he sat by the campfire while his parents went off to hunt for dinner. They never returned.
The hunger burned, the fire seemed to grow brighter, hotter…..
He awoke with a start as the bucket of water was thrown on him. Clearing the sleep from his eyes, he saw Tabruk, the Headmaster, standing over him with wide eyes and an empty bucket in his hands. The pallet he was laying on was charred and tendrils of smoke curled around his head.
“You tryin’ ta burn the place down, Mekros?” On examining the boy, his night clothes were scorched, but there was not a burn on his body.
“I…I’m sorry Headmaster. It was the dream…. I didn’t mean to….”
Mekros began to weep. He wept for his lost family. He wept for the strange feelings that seemed to be taking over his body. He wept for the looks the other half orc children were giving him. He wept for….well… for being who he is.
Tabruk said, “Tonight you sleep in the tent out in the courtyard. Come see me at first light.”
He walked away and Mekros gathered what was left of his scorched bedding and headed out to the courtyard, past all the other children staring at him. A few actually growled as he passed.
The next morning he knocked on the door of the Headmaster.
“Come in” called a voice from within. He entered the small, untidy office and sat in the one chair that was not occupied. Tabruk was there with the other teachers. All looked uncomfortable.
“Mekros, we decided you gotta leave for the sake of everyone here. Last night coulda been real bad if I hadn’t smelled the smoke in time.” Tabruk began. “I know of a place where you might get the help you need. A friend of mine runs a school for mages in Bloodstone Pass in Damara. He’s a gnome an he says he may be able to help you. I don’t know what’s happenin with you and it aint nothin I ever seen before with any of our kin. Pack up yer stuff today an ye’ll be leavin at sunup tomorrow.”
Mekros looked stunned as he left the office to prepare to leave the home. He packed his meager belongings and spent his last night in the tent in the courtyard, before leaving the next morning on a caravan bound for Damara. He looked back at the school with mixed feelings. He felt out of place, even among his own kind. He wondered what the future would bring.
Mekros Hazzal was fast asleep on his pallet in the corner of the large room. At 6 years old, the memory of his abandonment a year ago was still fresh in his mind. In his dream, he sat by the campfire while his parents went off to hunt for dinner. They never returned.
The hunger burned, the fire seemed to grow brighter, hotter…..
He awoke with a start as the bucket of water was thrown on him. Clearing the sleep from his eyes, he saw Tabruk, the Headmaster, standing over him with wide eyes and an empty bucket in his hands. The pallet he was laying on was charred and tendrils of smoke curled around his head.
“You tryin’ ta burn the place down, Mekros?” On examining the boy, his night clothes were scorched, but there was not a burn on his body.
“I…I’m sorry Headmaster. It was the dream…. I didn’t mean to….”
Mekros began to weep. He wept for his lost family. He wept for the strange feelings that seemed to be taking over his body. He wept for the looks the other half orc children were giving him. He wept for….well… for being who he is.
Tabruk said, “Tonight you sleep in the tent out in the courtyard. Come see me at first light.”
He walked away and Mekros gathered what was left of his scorched bedding and headed out to the courtyard, past all the other children staring at him. A few actually growled as he passed.
The next morning he knocked on the door of the Headmaster.
“Come in” called a voice from within. He entered the small, untidy office and sat in the one chair that was not occupied. Tabruk was there with the other teachers. All looked uncomfortable.
“Mekros, we decided you gotta leave for the sake of everyone here. Last night coulda been real bad if I hadn’t smelled the smoke in time.” Tabruk began. “I know of a place where you might get the help you need. A friend of mine runs a school for mages in Bloodstone Pass in Damara. He’s a gnome an he says he may be able to help you. I don’t know what’s happenin with you and it aint nothin I ever seen before with any of our kin. Pack up yer stuff today an ye’ll be leavin at sunup tomorrow.”
Mekros looked stunned as he left the office to prepare to leave the home. He packed his meager belongings and spent his last night in the tent in the courtyard, before leaving the next morning on a caravan bound for Damara. He looked back at the school with mixed feelings. He felt out of place, even among his own kind. He wondered what the future would bring.