The Dying Lands
A lizardman rogue searching for answers.
I was captured in a raid when I was a softscale, barely hatched. Taken back to Athrando Kan, I was enslaved. Overworked day and night. Too little food. I started stealing from the other slaves. They were too tired to notice or act. One of the guards noticed. Liked my ambition. Freed me. I work for him. Jeral. Steal what he says, he looks away. I feed myself. Easy to steal. One more death, no one notices.
Some call me ruthless. Jeral calls me pragmatic. Words are silly. I survive. That’s all that matters. Only stupid people die, when food’s so easy to get. Lose your food, your fault. Too soft. Make yourself a target, your fault. Too stupid. I keep my head down. Help Jeral. Survive. Sometimes he tells me, kill someone for him. Many humans. Knife through their ribs, sweet feeling. They have no honor. Leave their hearts on the ground. Not worth eating.
I meet Jeral. He’s worried. Says someone found him out. Asks me to help him, says he’ll leave me be after this. Wants me to hide in his house, watch who comes. Says they’ll try to kill him. I kill them instead. He hides me in a corner. That night, Jeral’s sleeping. Door opens. Someone sneaks in. Door was locked. I do nothing. Jeral was stupid to let this happen. Muffled choke. Figure returns from Jeral’s room. Sneaks back out. I go to Jeral’s room. He’s in bed, gasping for air. I watch him die. Eat his heart. He was a good human. Had honor. Deserves that much respect.
I let him die. But I will avenge his death. I am no softscale, to be cowed and threatened. Figure was missing a finger on his right hand. Walked like a Guard, not a thug. Spoke in Highborn before killing Jeral. He taught me a few words. Killer said ‘traitor.’