(so confession time, I actually don't know how to use the Hex code, only the text color picker in the editor)
Name: Laith Bishop
Race: Tiefling
Sex/Gender:Male
Age: 34
Appearance:
Credit to Raviolles on Tumblr
Role:
Striker
Strengths:
Light Step - As a child, Laith would stalk animals for fun to see how close he could get before alerting the animals. This play left him well practiced at noise discipline and enables him to move more quietly than his counterparts.
Trapper - Laith has an extensive knowledge of how to construct, set, and disarm various traps meant to ensnare game.
Weaknesses:
Blind in right eye (So reduced accuracy with ranged weaponry and more difficulty generally doing anything that requires more depth perception.)
Slow Reader / Poor Writer - Laith only knows Common and his grasp on it is tenuous at best. He
Can read, albeit it takes an embarrassing length of time compared to others. He can write as well but his sentences are often riddled with errors and misspellings, occasionally beyond comprehension but usually it gets the point across.
Biography:
Born in Mirgho's Harbor, Laith's father was a sailor and his mother was an Islamyrian whore. His mother had decided she wanted someone to look after her in old age when she could no longer count on her body to provide for her. The brothel owner insisted no one wanted to pay coin to a washed up whore with a child but she wanted someone to love none-the-less. She kept the child and with only a few outfits and the coin to her name she bought passage to Oshanlenor. There she used her beauty and guile to seduce a man who could provide for her and her newborn son. It wasn't a lavish life but it was enough to live on.
His stepfather was a trapper who lived north in the forests of Hunnalbed. There was never any love between Laith and his stepfather and his stepfather never made attempts to conceal as much. Growing up Laith enjoyed being off on his own, playing in the woods and stalking small game. Even though there was no place for him in his father's household he wanted to follow in his footsteps, thinking he could prove himself and earn the man's love. But his mother had other children and they were afforded all of the affection which could not be spared on Laith, save his mother who was the bedrock of his youth. To his father he would always be a bastard. When his mother died from a fever Laith lost the only parent that loved him. His step-father confessed as much when he informed Laith there was no place for him in his new household. At only thirteen he was cast out from his home.
Laith set out to Mirgho's Harbor where all the impoverished youth of the island congregate. His mother had a way with words and fortunately passed on her silver tongue. Laith used all the charisma at his disposal to talk his way into a job on a ship, first as a cabin boy then later as a striker when he proved his aptitude for hunting and foraging.
Years later, at seventeen, his crew returned to port and Laith set out to Wreaft Row to spend his hard-earned coin at one of the more premier merchant shops on the Isle. He wore his nicest clothes so as not stand out too sorely among the privileged. There, walking the cobblestone streets he saw the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on. An Aasimar with pale skin, white hair, beautiful green eyes, and a Farenthaes slave marking tattooed on the right side of her neck. She couldn't have been more than a year or two apart from his own age and he was certain she could be no less than an angel. She sat alone in a carriage, waiting for company no doubt. He plucked a flower from a nearby pot and approached. First, he threw out a compliment. She refused to speak. Then against the boisterous protests of the driver, he inquired her name. Again she refused to speak. She appeared frightened, but he assured her that he was only curious of her name and approached to give her the flower. The driver at this point had disembarked and struck out at Laith with his whip, striking him in the arm and causing him to drop the gift. Laith cursed and reeled back but now the Aasamir girl was looking at him. Laith smiled and quickly backstepped out of another strike from the driver.
"My name is Laith!" he called out to her as the driver moved his arm back, positioning for another strike. The young Teifling winked at her and once again sidestepped the strike, this time he lunged towards the drivers legs, gave the man's trousers a hard swift tug to pull them to the ankles, and with the driver's pants around his feet Laith shouldered him, knocking the man off balance and to the cobblestone. Bystanders were beginning to call the authorities so Laith gave the bewildered girl a sly smile and a small farewell salute before darting off into a nearby ally. A few days passed before he saw the stagecoach again, and he only took a few steps forward before the driver saw and prominently displayed his whip. Laith dare not approach. He stood casually until a wealthy, fat, old man came out from a nearby store and entered the stagecoach. The driver had never taken his eyes off Laith, and even when they began moving he didn't break eye contact until he saw Laith wasn't budging. When they rounded a corner Laith followed.
He followed them to a moderate sized fenced estate adjacent to a white sand beach. That night he memorized the patterns of the two guards patrolling the grounds of the estate and under the cover of darkness he encircled the home until he saw her through a window. Quickly he weighed the pros and cons of what he was doing. Pros: She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Cons: He followed her home and was watching her through a window. He was struggling to find a way to make that last con look good. He waited until an hour past midnight before he knocked on her window and a few more moments before he knocked again. Confused and apprehensive she answered. Laith reached into his pocket and pulled out the same flower, insisting it wasn't fair he never learned her name.
"You followed me home?" she inquired.
"Well, I can't speak to you in public without your driver whipping the shit out of me."
"Because I'm a slave," she said incredulously before looking outside nervously, likely searching for the patrol. "Whether I speak back to you or not, you giving me this attention could get me in trouble, how do you not understand that?"
Laith couldn't think of a way to defend himself. He understood but conveniently chose to push it out of his mind for a pretty girl.
"Ira", she said guardedly as she took the flower and rolled the stem between her fingers inspecting it. Laith smiled and asked where she was from. She was silent, and instead held out her hand to return the gift and insisted it was time he left. It was a gift he reassured with a sheepish smile, pushing her hand back. "Farenthaes," she said quietly as she tossed the flower out the window and closed the wood shutters.
She was a slave, but she didn't have to be. The laws in this land were fast a loose. If you could steal something fair and square then it was yours. The notion that he was considering stealing another human being was not lost on him and being honest with himself he didn't care. Besides, if he could get her out he would take her to freedom, he wouldn't force her to be anyone's property, he was doing a good deed. He imagined once he saved her though she would be fawning over him. He'd be like Nobir Dooh, the legendary scoundrel who stole from the rich and gave to the poor but he'd be stealing a woman and giving her freedom. Which she would then use to fawn over him.
He had been to Farenthaes before, a few times in fact. That morning as his crew sailed off to their next destination he stayed ashore and rented a room. He scoured through his possessions until he found a bracelet made of wooden beads with what he presumed was Thaesan script. She was a slave and he was counting on her being lonely and he thought there was a chance he could manipulate his way into her bed. At nightfall he returned and again knocked on her window at an hour past midnight. When she didn't answer he left the bracelet in the windowsill. The next night he returned once more and became hopeful when he saw the bracelet was absent. Again he knocked on her window and this time she answered.
"You need to stop," she scolded as she outstretched her arm, the bracelet clenched in a fist presented before him. She shook her fist and continued, "You could get me in serious trouble for this. Do you not understand or do you not care"
He didn't care; he feigned realization. "I'm sorry," he replied solemnly as he reclaimed the bracelet. She heard the deflation in his voice and sighed. She assured was a wonderful gift but she couldn't keep it. "I thought you'd miss home," he concluded.
"I do, but I can't keep it."
He stood for a moment looking at the bracelet and waiting for her to shut the shutters and retreat into her room but she didn't. She just stood there looking at him. Perhaps the gesture warmed her to him, or maybe out of pity she asked, "are you religious?"
"No, why?"
"That's a prayer bracelet."
"Is it?"
"Yes, look at the script," she said gesturing to the bracelet.
"I thought it was poetry or something," he admitted.
"How?" she asked incredulously.
He shrugged, "well I can't read Thaesan."
A bewildered look shot across her face, "That's common."
"Oh, well they look similar."
"What? No they don't," a smile crept across her face.
"Honestly I can't read at all," he said matter of factly with a shrug.
The smile grew and she chuckled. A sneeze from around the corner pierced their attention and Laith scrambled behind a nearby bush while Ira swiftly closed the shutters. A guard walked by none the wiser. A couple minutes later the shutters opened and Laith crawled out from cover. Again they stood in silence, the light from the gibbous moon casting itself over her pale skin, her blonde hair glistened and her eyes shone like glorious peridots and she wore a sleek white nightgown which clung to her body. Laith was working hard to commit the vision to memory. She stepped back and motioned for him to climb inside, but pressing a finger tightly against her lips. He did so. The room was small, much smaller then what he had imagined for a house so large. The room was sparse with only a rug, dresser, a small bed, and a nightstand. She closed the window and darkness engulfed his vision. He felt her hand on his tricep, goosebumps raised on his skin and he felt anxious. She tugged downwards and he took the cue to sit on the floor. He could hear her step around him and the creaking of the bed as she sat down.
She couldn't be more five feet from his face but his eyes hadn't yet adjusted; he couldn't see anything. She asked his name, what he did when he wasn't stalking her, how long he'd been sailing and all the places he'd been. Under hushed voices they talked about Farenthaes at length, about the art the fashion and the land.
"Farentheas is probably one of the better places i've seen," Laith concluded.
"The art there is great."
"Yeah," he agreed unenthusiastically. As a sailor, he was more keen on the sexual liberties the people there embraced. He did, however, recall one occasion where he had watched a play he rather enjoyed, "The plays there are pretty great."
"They were my sisters' favorite."
"You have sisters?"
"I had sisters," she corrected.
"Oh," Laith said cooly, not really wanting to turn the conversation to a sour topic.
"What about you, any siblings?"
"None," he lied. "I drove my mom mad, another one or two like me would've been the end of her."
"Yeah you seem like you're pretty unbearable," she concurred.
"I'm an upstanding citizen," he protested. "Remember the day we met when I stopped your carriage driver from whipping that poor boy."
"He was whipping
you."
"Let's not split hairs here. The point is I intervened."
"You're so dumb," she said smiling.
He smiled back, winked, and walked to the dresser and began fiddling with a knob. "Tell me about your family."
She shrugged, "I haven't seen them in a long time."
"You said you had sisters?"
"Yeah," she began. A brief moment of silence ensued as she measured what she wanted to share. Finally, with sorrow she continued, "My sisters and I used to love to swim. Every day we would go to the beach and play in the ocean. We used to watch the ships pass by, their sails like giant clouds carrying people to far off lands. We used to guess where we'd be when we grew up, what kind of lives we'd have. We thought we'd be free. Our master always treated us kindly, we were his daughters, and he looked after our mom well. She'd tell us one day he was going to set us all free. He never did, instead, he died and we were sold off like the rest of his property."
Her voice grew quieter and Laith found himself leaning forward, "We were all separated. I never thought being a slave was so bad, but I never thought it could be like this." She was silent, staring downwards and massaging the bracelet between her fingers. She then held it out for Laith," Thank you, it's a wonderful gift but I can't keep it. If anyone found it I could be beaten."
Laith stood walked over and took the bracelet. "I understand," he said as he gave her a considerate look. With her being a slave he had originally he thought he could find some way to take advantage of her. Now a powerful wave of guilt was creeping in.
"What about you?" She asked.
"My mom died," he stated plainly.
"What was she like?"
Now he messaged the bracelet between his fingers, "She was wonderful. She loved music, she could play all sorts of instruments and could sing. She was funny, sarcastic, and when she smiled she always did this half-smile kind of thing," he explained as he gave an example, raising only one corner of his mouth in a wide grin. "She loved the stars and could name all the constellations. I never listened though, I wasn't really interested in what she liked. I always wanted to do my own thing." A pause and a strong pang of sorrow struck his heart, "I wish I appreciated her more when she was alive."
Another pause, then Ira inquired, "And your dad?"
"I'm a bastard," he said quickly.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be, if I had two parents harping on me growing up I'd be insane now," he stuck out his tongue and crossed his eyes. In the dark he could see her grin. They spoke a little longer, then she yawned and he declared it was probably time he took his leave. His eyes had adjusted at this point but he asked if she could lead him to the window; he could see the room but he wanted her to touch him again. She lead him to the window and bid him a good night.
He lay in bed that night feeling guilty and second-guessing himself. The next day he began to fantasize spiriting her away from this land, to Islamyria or somewhere she could be free. He imagined her choosing to stay with him once she was free. She ought to be free he thought. He wasted the day until he returned to her window that night, as always being careful to evade patrol. When she didn't answer after a third knock his heart sunk slightly. It sunk more the next night when again there was no response. He thought to try once more before just moving on. This time, however, she answered.
"You need to stop," she whispered urgently
"I'm not going to let you be a slave," he replied stearnly.
"What?"
She was baffled but he continued, "I'm not going to let you be a slave. I can get you out of here, my crew smuggles people all the time." That was a lie. "I'm the best at getting places unseen." That was true.
"Why do you care?"
"You don't deserve this. No one deserves this," he added. Quite truthfully at that.
She was silent, appearing to gather her thoughts and unsure of how to respond. Once again she stepped back and allowed him to climb in. She closed the shutters and turned to him. He explained that he had stayed behind the day they met but his crew would be back in two or three months. When they returned he could convince the captain to take a contract that would take them to Islamaryia. He concluded, "If there's even a chance that this is a risk worth taking, take it. I can do this for you I swear. It's a huge risk but if it's one you want to take I want to help."
"Are you sure your captain would help?" she replied.
"I know he would."
"Why?"
"He's like a father to me. I don't have any doubt in my mind he would help." She was silent, he continued, "Think on it, I'll be back in two days." He turned around and went to open the shutters but felt a hand on his shoulder. He paused, stopped, then turned around. They stood silent then she walked to her bed and sat, folding her legs beneath her. He could feel her eyes on him and imagined what all of this looked like from her perspective. He walked away from the window and sat in front of her on the bed.
"Tell me more about you," she requested.
"What do you want to know?"
"Why do you trust your captain so much?"
"I've been sailing under him for four years. After that long you get to know people pretty well."
"Why is he like a father to you?"
Laith hesitated, it took him a moment to contextualize his trust, "He took me under his wing when I was just thirteen. He taught me everything I know about sailing and entrusts me with a lot of responsibilities. We have a very close relationship. He's a mentor. At sea, he's saved my ass once or twice. He's earned my trust."
She sat silent, appearing to mull over his response, then asked, "Do you always want to sail?"
He thought so, he replied. Then they talked a little more about his role on the ship, a few experiences he's had, and a little about his fellow crew. Then he let slip that he had been sailing with his captain, Linden Shrine, since he left his family.
She quickly caught the slip, "you said you were a bastard."
"I am." She raised an eyebrow; the answer wasn't good enough. He elaborated, "I had a stepfather growing up, siblings too, but I was never
his kid. It's not something I like to talk about. I was always a bastard and he never wanted me around. So when my mom died I left and talked my way on to Linden's crew."
"And found a new family?"
"Exactly. They count on me, Linden counts on me, and I make him proud. It's a good feeling, you know?" Laith concluded, "He's like a father."
"I see," she said simply. Laith shifted uncomfortably, he never intended nor ever had any desire to share as much about himself as he had. It made him feel vulnerable. "Are you good at your job?"
"The best," he said as a matter of fact. He bragged, "I can sneak up to a deer and touch it without it ever realizing I'm there."
"Oh wow, that's incredible!" Her voice was saturated with sarcasm, clearly not buying the exaggeration.
"Yeah, I'm pretty amazing."
"Can you spell deer?"
"That's a low blow," he said feigning an exasperated look. She smiled, he smiled back.
They talked at great lengths about his trade and the different wildlife of the lands he'd been to. They talked about the sea and what wild lands might be beyond the horizon. She thought it would be incredibly exciting to go on a grand voyage and he imagined what places he would show her. Then she shared a bit more of her own upbringing with him and explained that when she had lived in Farenthaes she was raised to practice poetry and art because the nobles expected as much from their personal servants. She remarked it was a cute coincidence that he thought the prayer beads were poetry considering she practices the art.
"Could I see some?" Laith asked
"You can't read."
"I can read some."
"You thought common was Thaesan, I'm not sure if you could convince me you've seen a word before," she jabbed.
He laughed, maybe a little too loud because she immediately shoved her hand over his mouth. When she removed it he asked if she'd read it to him. She stood, walked to her dresser and removed a small leatherbound book with a tightly strung yellow ribbon tying it shut. She opened the book, sat next to him again and whispered some passages about the moon, the ocean, travel, and life. Every third word felt like something he had never heard before and he had a difficult time comprehending most of it. He wasn't a big fan of poetry, he liked things that could be sold for gold, but through her words he caught glimpses of her feelings and thoughts. That he liked. She would read a passage and asked what he thought, and he would do his best to explain how he interpreted what she had said. She seemed happy to be sharing this with someone, and ten or so pages in she closed the book explaining that the rest of the pages were more or less the same.
"Could you write me something?" asked earnestly
"You couldn't read it."
"No, but i'd have it."
She smiled warmly, "I'll write something for you."
He wanted to kiss her, but he had never kissed a girl he hadn't paid before and was nervous. While she was reading he had gradually been shifting closer to her to the point where their knees where now touching. He leaned forward and instinctively she pulled back. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated hushedly as he shot to his feet, wiping his sweaty palms against his trousers. He couldn't see her expression clearly in the low light but he thought he saw confusion. He hurried to the window but before he opened it to climb out he explained himself, "I don't want to help you because I want something from you. I want to help you because no one should be owned." It was true now.
She stood up, he froze. She walked over to him and grabbed his hand and leaned forward, kissing him on the cheek. She gave his hand a squeeze a smiled, "I don't believe you can help me, but I like talking to you. I could get in series trouble for this but this is the first time i've been happy in a very long time." Ira touched his cheek. "You cant't come every night though. Once a week."
"Once a week," he affirmed. "Once a week from now until my crew is back."
For three months he wondered if their luck would ever run out. If one night someone would burst down the door or window and expose them both. He feared what would happen to her if such a thing came to pass but it never did. Each time he felt more invincible than the last and by the end of three months, he was confident he could pull this off. Nothing had failed go his way and all the ramifications of what could come from his actions seemed like a distant fear that could never be realized. He loved her, he thought, and he could feel something from her as well. She, however, always kept in touch with reality and never lost her fear, though she trusted him. At the end of the third month his crew was back and immediately he sought out his captain, Linden Shrine. He told him of everything that had happened and his captain seemed gleeful at the tale, slapping him on the back and expressing his joy at what a ladies man he had become. When he told him where she lived there were a pause and a flicker of an expression that shot across his eyes.
Laith was young and only subconsciously picked up the signal but didn't know what to make of it. He trusted the man implicitly, he had worked for Linden over the past four years. He was the closest thing to a father figure he had. That night just before dawn, as he had planned for months, he spirited Ira away. She was wrapped in one of his cloaks to conceal her identity and snuck her through the streets and onto his vessel. The crew were preparing the ship for departure and didn't give it much more than a curious glance as it wasn't uncommon to book passage for family or friends provided there was room to spare, which there was. In the cabin, they waited anxiously. Linden said he would they would set sail at daybreak and he would be down to meet this lovely lady which has bewitched Laith's heart. At daybreak, the ship had not budged. Ira was growing visibly frightened and there was a nagging feeling that something was awry, but Laith pushed the instinct aside.
"Something's not right," Ira seemed to confirm.
"He's just late," Laith said turning to face her. "Trust me."
"I trust you," she said with a small, fragile close-lipped smile.
The door burst open, Ira shot to her feet and disbelief spread across Laith's face. In the doorway stood not Linden but a thug with two more at his back. Slowly the first entered, Laith felt his heart sink and Ira grabbed his hand. He turned to face her and saw the look a man makes when they know death is coming: acceptance with the eyes only barely making a wave of fear. Or the feeling when something so absurd is happening you no longer feel like your in your body but watching from some other perspective. He felt it too, then he felt her lips on his.
He bagged then beaten there on the ship. He heard Ira cry out and those screams get fainter as the boots continued to bear down on him. He could feel the blood pooling in the bag around his head as he was beaten to within an inch of his life on his own ship. He was brought to the city guard where the case was made against him that he should be blinded for coveting and stealing another man's slave. The punishment was reduced to a single eye. There wasn't any pain when he lost his eye or when he was beaten. His crew's betrayal was painful. That he never saw Ira again was worse still.
At first he considered throwing himself into the sea. Then he spent years searching for her, then more years hunting Linden for revenge. After many years of no luck with either he gave up and pushed the memories out of his thoughts. Though on quiet nights or in still moments of reflection guilt over her fate would sweep over him, or murderous rage at Linden for his betrayel. He found new crews though forming a working trust in people again took some. Eventually he got over it and life returned to a semblance of normality.
___________________________________________________________________
Ten years later Laith found himself on the shores of Oshanlenor for the first time in a decade. Laith stood solemn, looking out to the sea, a recruitment poster held loosely in his right hand.
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