A Rhoach Joins the Clan

[Rhoach]

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Rhoach scrambled to his feet and found a hammer spike pointed at his throat. He reflexively stumbled back and fell into a sitting position. He cut a rather pathetic figure, his scrawny form betraying the fact that he hadn’t eaten a substantial meal in weeks. His clothes, being little more than rags at the outset of his journey, had hardly benefited from the long days of slogging through t###### vegetation. He was equipped with nothing but his clothing, save for a hidden dagger he kept strapped to the underside of his forearm. His darting eyes and lean appearance gave the impression of a hunted animal.

“What’ll we do with the little monster?” Chorich asked coldly, looking down the point of his hammer at the cringing ball of misery on the other end. He obviously assumed that their catch didn’t understand what he was saying.

“What do you mean, ‘what’ll we do with it,’ Chorich?” Kerlack spoke growlingly. “Kill it, of course. Its kind has been responsible for the deaths of many of my people. If it is set free this day, the blood of my kin will be on my hands.”

“Kerlack!” the mage cried. “Look at it, it’s just a child!”

The words of Rhoach’s old master feverishly flashed through his mind; 'Lesson four: there is a reason the wolf goes to the effort to dress himself in sheep’s clothing.' That was one of the first things Kzar had taught Rhoach. He reminded himself to keep his teachings foremost in his mind, as they had saved his life more than once in the past. Rhoach put on his most pathetic face and puppy dog eyes, hoping to glean some more sympathy from the mage, as she appeared to be the only one who stood between him and a slit throat. It worked.

“Chorich,” the mage spoke scoldingly, “it’s scared! Just put down your weapon and let’s ask it what it’s doing out here.”

“Ask it what it’s…?” the paladin sputtered. “Marianne, you speak as if it’s more than a beast! I know how trolls conduct their ‘business,’ living mostly naked in the jungles, tundras, and forests where no sane race would even dream of living. My apologies, Kivian,” he added quickly as the elf bristled a bit at the forest comment. “Why, I’ve even heard they eviscerate live captives for the sport of it!” he continued, eyeing Rhoach balefully.

“You put too much stock in rumors, paladin,” Kivian stated softly. “Trolls are worthy opponents, and are more similar to my own people than any Alliance race. I doubt they would commit such heinous acts, outside of their witch doctory.”

“Ha! Any race that condones such heathenistic practices deserves everything the heavens can throw at them,” Chorich spoke, sneering. “Besides, trolls cannot speak any of God’s languages. We couldn’t communicate with it even if we wanted to,” he said, waving the matter aside.

Rhoach’s mind had raced during the conversation. Should he betray the fact that he was, for all cultural intents and purposes, a non-troll? What would he gain by revealing this? What would he lose?

“Lesson nine: when the darkness fails you, words must be your cloak of shadows,” Rhoach muttered quietly to himself, remembering. Also, during the small company’s debate, Rhoach’s ears had caught the faint sound of what sounded like… chanting? When the wind shifted, it seemed to fade. It had gone unnoticed by the arguing Alliance members, however.

Edited July 3, 2004 by Rhoach

[Rhoach]

Part 3 posted!

[Rhoach]

Part 1