THE LIE ~
NAME. UTP AGE & BIRTH DATE. 25+ SPECIES. Witcher FACTION. UTP. OCCUPATION. UTP.
They told you that you had to hunt for magic; they never said you had to be good, and they never said you had to be fair. This power suited you and if the law said that you couldn’t have land of your own, or a title, then all you had to do was find a way around it. That was where you excelled; maybe you couldn’t lie, but that didn’t mean you didn’t know how to say what people wanted to hear. You got your land, you got the house, and you were in the business of fear so you made sure that those around you and those under you kept their lips sealed. Your exchange was fair, they didn’t die, and their family wouldn’t go to the mines so long as they didn’t do anything too loud. When others came knocking, they saw a trusted ally, a fellow witcher who understood the kinship that came with being a poisoned fiend. Bribes came in handy when other methods failed; your nation put you through hell and dragged you back to the other side. Fewer and fewer went into those trials, and so fewer and fewer emerged from generation to generation. The fact was simple: witchers didn’t go to the mines; Iskaldrik needed you a lot more than you needed them, so they could slap your wrist all they wanted. That land you worked for, the stately house, in a fortnight, it was gone; swept away by the sort of monsters you hated by virtue of your training. Witches. Mages. Whatever the Aetherians had called themselves once, they took your home, and this was an unkindness you would someday repay.
CONNECTS
N/A.
NOTES
TQH: Troupe 1 - Refugee
this skeleton is currently open.
