The Forgotten Tale of Oscurio Dathell

So, characters in D&D are given what's called an "alignment" to help PC's stay true to how their character should act. It puts on paper and helps quantify choices and actions your character makes.

There are nine possible options coming from the combination of three ethical options (Lawful, Neutral, Chaotic) and three moral options. (Good, Neutral, Evil). Each helps, not just the PC playing the part, but the other PC's and the DM understand how the character should be acting. This picture helps describe the nine combinations:

LG: You are the boy scout type. You fight for the good of the people and the law of the land.  Classic "truth, justice, and the American way" 

NG: Sometimes the law doesn't cut it. People are hurting and you'll do what needs to be done to help them, inside or outside the law.

CG: The powers that be are corrupt and those under their thumb need help! It brings you great joy to thumb your nose at them while breaking every law possible, just so long as you're helping others in the end.

LN: There are no grey areas, no good excuses. The law is the law and it's absolute. Sometimes that means protecting the people, sometimes that means hurting someone quite a bit. But you'll do what needs to be done.

NN or "True Neutral": Why do so many fight and quibble over such mundane things? Many greater things are happening beyond laws and morals, and we are just a small part of it.

CN: You love to cause trouble. Slipping a coin or two is a habit of yours. Maybe you'll share some of that...but probably not. It depends on how it benefits you...

LE: You have power and you abuse it as much as possible. Maybe you're a mayor or a tax collector or a sheriff, but you'll do whatever it takes to give yourself whatever you want, especially if it's at the expense of the peons you command. It's all legal, of course...

NE: You hate them, the morons milling about all the time. You'll do what it takes to prove that they deserve to hurt, any way you can.

CE: Your currency is pain. Your joy is suffering. You just want to see the world burn.

The reason I explain this is because this next story is of the only evil character I've ever played (NE), and I have to admit, it was HARD. Attempting to get into the mindset of someone so deranged was something I didn't think I could do. So I had to think to myself: how could someone come to this point? That's where this story stems from.

I was also reading a book at the time that had a "he said" or "she said" after every line of dialogue, and it was maddening. So I experimented with never using either, or anything similar. I tried using only story cues to allude to who's talking.

The story is actually four parts, Parts I and II are posted now, I'll put up III and IV on Thursday.

Small warning, There is some content that's a bit heavier that my other backgrounds.

Some info to get you started: Skulks are a race of human-like people, but they can change their skin color at will. They're usually inherently evil, though that's more the product of their society. They also have the innate ability to move shadows, which helps their stealth.

Shout out to Josh Higgins for DMing this campaign.

The Forgotten Tale of Oscurio Dathell

Part I

            She was…different. Among the skulk people, it was nearly unheard of for one to hold morality like her. She was (he shuddered to think it) “good”. Not just to other skulks, but to all people, including, (he shuddered again) humans. He hated her for it, hated everything about her. The way she smiled, the way she brought back fruits and vegetables from the nearby human town, the way she shared, and the fact that she was so damn beautiful. He hated her most for that. That one from the family of Dath, Rowan Dath to be exact, could hate and desire one like her so much simultaneously. Yet he did desire her, and, as he always had, he would get his way.

            Ell labored under the weight of the food she was carrying. She had obtained food while working in town before, but this particular human had quite a bit. Nonetheless, she carried the literal fruits of her labor back to the darkness that was her village. The food always brought trust and she appreciated the trust, it made things so much easier for her. So she plodded on, hands full, a bit tired after completing her task, and unaware of the man awaiting her return.

            She never saw it coming.

            A watermelon burst on the ground as Rowan forced Ell into her home. Her scream must have been heard, but would not be acknowledged. She fought harder than he thought she was able, but it was not enough. The adrenaline, the lust, fueling his system would not be denied. She cried out, both in pain and sorrow, cried to the darkness, which had less of an answer than any cry before.

            She stopped bringing food. She stopped sharing. She stopped smiling. Rowan stopped wanting her. In fact, he hardly noticed Ell at all.

*                *                      *                      *                      *                      *

            Six months past.

*                *                      *                      *                      *                      *

            She was…young, fifteen to be exact. But Rowan had had others like her before. He just had to find a way to get her alone. Rowan eyed the teen lewdly as she was talking to the increasingly fat woman. She was beautiful once, the fat woman. But she had become increasingly large since…

            Since six months ago.

            Ell was not fat, she was pregnant, pregnant with a Dath. Pregnant with his Dath, and she was keeping it from him. She was holding his child hostage. And he would take it from her. He would cut it from her very belly. Rage filled his every sense. He drew the dagger he kept with him, and approached her quickly.

“Give me my child you whore!”

But this time, Ell was ready. Ell watched him watch the teenage girl. Watched his epiphany that Ell was carrying his child, and watched his approach. He brandished the dagger toward her stomach, and with surprising grace she sidestepped him and put her foot into his kneecap. He let out a shriek and fell to the ground, dropping his dagger. Ell picked it up and turned toward him, driving the dagger into his shoulder. Another shriek spilled from his mouth. But it was after that cry that she heard something else. Footsteps. People running to meet Rowan’s cry as they had ignored hers months before. Other members of the Dath family, no doubt with intent to protect their brother. She had no choice but to run. She dashed for the shadows, melding with them as if she was a part of them. She knew she had to leave. Had to leave and never return.

The Forgotten Tale of Oscurio Dathell

Part II

            The strapping young nine year old jogged back to his home, letting his feet fall as silent as possible. “Children should be seen and not heard”, his mother reminded him constantly. He didn’t know why she said that, considering he was rarely seen also. No one came to their home. And they never went anywhere, except to steal food from the nearest farm. But he enjoyed this time, the only time he got to be outdoors, watching the moonlight cascade on the landscape in front of him, smelling the fresh vegetables in his pack. Life was good for him, more than anything because he did not know there was anything else. He had food when he was hungry, drink when he was thirsty, and best of all: his mother loved him very much. So he raced home, looking forward to seeing her face.

            Ell worried about her son, as she always did when he was out. But when she looked out the window, she saw the shadows shift toward her home, and she knew her son was home. She did not hear the door open, she had taught her son well, but when she felt the draft from outside she simply said, “Welcome home, child”.

“How is that that y-“

“Children should be seen and not heard, son.”

            He nodded, closed the door, and put the food on the table.

            “It’s been ten years! Where is she? Where is my child?” Rowan kicked a nearby chair, sending it rolling across the room.

            “It’s only been nine, Rowan. She’s completely disappeared. No one has heard the name Ell since she left.”

            Rowan gave the spy an icy glare. “What about the two that you found that live alone? The woman and the boy?”

            “No one has heard their names yet, so we can’t confirm anything. They only refer to each other as ‘mother’ and ‘son’.”

            “You’ve been watching them for three months and they haven’t spoken a single name? What the hell are you doing out there?”

            “The best we can, Rowan. I don’t think it’s those two. I would go with the woman who lives in town.”

            “She’s a human you simpleton!”

            “So we think. You know we can change our skin color. And now that we know more of Ell’s previous…profession, we know that she is talented in disguise. Those other two live too common for someone of Ell’s talents. Their either dumb or-“

            “Afraid.” Rowan let a smile creep across his face. “They’re afraid. It’s them.”

            The boy sped home again after obtaining some fruit. This particular trip had been quite lucrative. He labored under the weight of the literal fruits of his labor, nonetheless, he continued on. And as he approached his home, he heard the scream.

            She never saw it coming.

            A watermelon burst on the ground as Rowan forced Ell into her home. He shouted at her, asking for his son, fighting her in the process. She only responded with screams, but this time, her screams would be answered.

The boy crept up behind him. He did not know who the man was, he only knew that he was hurting his mother. Without a sound, he picked up the knife that he and his mother used for cooking, walked to the man as calm as he had ever been. He ignored the shouts, ignored the screams, and drove the dagger into the man’s knee. When the man fell to the ground, the boy took the dagger in hand again, and shoved it into the man’s eye.

            Ell looked at her son with utter amazement. He had never known violence; she wondered if he knew what he had just done. She was so preoccupied with that thought that it never occurred to her that there could be other people nearby. But just a few seconds after the boy killed his own father, other skulk’s burst into the home, arrows drawn, allowing for the eldest of them to walk in unarmed.

            “Amazing. We both know that you are skilled, Ell, but your boy! It seems like you’ve been training him as a rouge.” The elder skulk walked around the home as if he were a welcome guest.

            “What the hell do you want, Rothan? Rowan was here for his son, but you already have several. You have no need for a grandchild.”

            “A grandchild? No. But a protégé? Absolutely! Your boy was on Rowan before Rowan even knew he was there. He’s brilliant! And so young!”

            Ell stood as a shield between her son and Rothan. “Get away from him, you bastard!”

            Rothan kneeled to become eye level with the boy. “What’s your name, son?”

            “Name, sir?”

            “Your name! What does your mother call you?”

            “She only calls me ‘son’, sir.”

            “Ha! Brilliant, Ell! That little trick kept our men fooled for months! Hmm…how about ‘Oscurio’? ‘Little Darkness’ in our old language! Ha ha! Come, boy! We have training to begin!”

A couple of the thugs grabbed the boy, despite Ell’s futile attempts to keep him behind her.

“Do not try to follow us, Ell, remember that your life is not the only one on the line. Now boy, I will continue showing you the ways of the rouge, but when that’s done, how does the name ‘Shadow Dancer’ sound?”

           

Oscurio smiled.

Parts III and IV to be posted on Thursday.