For his draconic appearance, he's persecuted, but for his strength, he's feared. This is the story of Alidorim Ulkith, a Dragonborn warrior. Shunning most of civilization Ulkith braves the dangers of the Sword Coast as he seeks out a fortune to rebu...
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"You're a...Tiefling..." Alidorim couldn't help but stare. He'd never encountered a member of the Infernal race. He'd only ever heard of them in tales of old Abeir spoken by the elders. Stories of men and woman beholden to darker powers, who's descendants continued to bear the mark of that desperation.
The girl cocked her head to the side. Her dark eyes glistened with confusion. "Teef-a-ling? Smizw uw zmuw sarv?" The way she drew out the pronunciation made it seem like the word was unfamiliar to her. The rest was pure gibberish to his ears. That might be a problem. What kind of beings didn't know their own species?
"Do you...speak...common?" he asked, spacing out his words hoping his tone and mannerisms might transcend any language barrier. She continued to look at him blankly. Alidorim groaned inwardly. Of course, she would only speak her native tongue. The girl didn't respond. Her gaze traveled back to what remained of her companion and the three dead goblins.
"Tmyh cuddyv Urcis," she whimpered. Moisture formed at the corner of her eyes as her tiny fists started to shake. "Xe ip idaly."
Following her gaze, the Dragonborn stepped forward, blocking her view. "They...are...dead." Tears streaked through the dirt on her face, she looked up at him. He rattled his brain for some way to explain, but nothing came. So, he reacted the only way he knew when it came to hardship. Shouldering the dead traveler's pack alongside his own, Olkith started walking to the road.
He only made it two steps before he felt something grasp one of his fingers. Looking down he spotted the little girls hand tugging at his digit. She pointed back toward her dead companion. "Urcis siw qaav," she exclaimed, her tone pleading, "Hy pfwz ky kfruyv." When the Dragonborn didn't respond she mimed grasping a tool. She began jabbing it into the ground in a shoveling motion. She then pointed back at the body and then pantomimed digging again.
"You want me to bury him?" He asked mimicking her movements. The girl nodded, but then frowned as Alidorim shook his head. Grasping the invisible shovel, he held it up before shrugging his shoulders. "With what tools?" She seemed to understand his meaning; a blessed relief, but still looked determined. She indicated the claws on his hands and feet, but again he shook his head. To validate his point, he kicked at the earth. Despite being close to a swamp the topsoil was surprisingly dense. His clawed toes barely gouged the surface.
The girl looked devastated. Fresh tears poured down her face as she looked back at her friend. "Xe'p warrh," she sobbed, "Xe'p warrh, Urcis." Alidorim didn't need to speak the Infernal tongue to know a grief-stricken apology when he heard one.
Grumbling, he reached into his own pack and withdrew a small leather bladder. The girl stopped her sobbing long enough to watch the Dragonborn remove the stopper and pour the contents onto the corpse. The liquid was yellow and semi-transparent possessing a noxious odor. Alidorim had been saving the fluid for an emergency. He supposed this would have to do.
