Post by syntheticdeity on Jul 15, 2022 8:43:27 GMT
Quille
? Years
Race
Race
Unknown
Residence
Residence
The Mires
Alignment
Alignment
Lawful Neutral
It walks in long slow strides, knees hidden by iron lead to wooden stilts. The burning red eyes behind its mask turn to a man staring it down, “What is it that you seek, coward?”
Quille is a strange being, living in a well put together hovel made of branches and sticks within the mires, yet carrying an attitude of superiority even when near the upper ward. Despite this it frequently does business within the walls, selling hides and furs along with remedies and various smokable herbs. It can be spotted selling its items throughout the city, seated on a wool blanket with its wares spread out before it.
“I’m from distant lands, beyond mountain, within fog, where you survive off of wits and not walls.”
It’s not known where Quille has come from, it just skulked into the mires and began building its hovel. Some say it comes from the far east, others say it was birthed from a wretched bog somewhere, but not being able to see its true face doesn’t help narrow down the mystery. The furs it wears suggests somewhere cold, while the lamps it carries suggest somewhere dark, and the mask? Most point out it's a hare and that's as far as anyone gets.
It’s not known where Quille has come from, it just skulked into the mires and began building its hovel. Some say it comes from the far east, others say it was birthed from a wretched bog somewhere, but not being able to see its true face doesn’t help narrow down the mystery. The furs it wears suggests somewhere cold, while the lamps it carries suggest somewhere dark, and the mask? Most point out it's a hare and that's as far as anyone gets.
“So the coward draws its blade.” Quille’s backpack fell to the ground, and the ring of steel leaving its scabbard pierced the air. It pulled its poncho back, a combination of hardened leather and metal protected its torso. “I’M NO COWARD!” The warrior yelled in frustration. “Yet you hide behind walls and legions of others.” Came the rebuttal of Quille before it huffed, “If you believe yourself not a coward, then come to me.” As it ended its sentence, a dark mist came from under Quille’s poncho that slowly began to envelope the alley. The warrior charged forward into the mist, sword raised. He saw demons, heard the screams of his wife, felt something clawing at his legs. “W-what’re you doing, witch?” The gentle tap of its pointed legs sounded all around him as Quille circled the warrior. There was no answer from the being, only cries of help from within the mist, and then the burning red eyes of its mask. The warrior’s heart dropped, along with his blade as he began to back off. “Coward.”