The Urchin

Joined: Posts: -19

There was an urchin that lived in the bowels of Diabolus. A cold cruel set of streets, that have consumed the doughtiest fighters, much less a slight pale boys of eight. But he scraped and struggled, doing his best to survive and thrive, stealing what he could to live. Eventually the child's luck ran out, as so often happens in those environs.

A local thug, vicious and cruel, made a profitable business kidnapping orphans off the streets, and selling them to the drow mines nearby, and to distant Myshaud abroad. The brute caught the urchin one day, a powerful hand clamping down around the boy's shoulders. For the boy, this was the end of life, the end of freedom.

And so he did something he had never done before. He prayed. To whatever power, whatever force there might be listening. He promised service, he promised his soul in childish arrogance. And the boy, shockingly, had his prayers answered. A tumultuous squawking rose from the rooftops and trees nearby. A true murder of ravens answered the child's pleading. Dozens of black feathered ravens swooped in, driven by divine will, and shrieking and cawing as their razor sharp beaks tore into the thug. They took the slaver's eyes and slashed at this vitals without mercy or care.

And yet, the child stood alone amongst that deadly swarm, some settling on his shoulders, as birds finished the meal at the urchin's feet. Despite the fact he was easier meat, that he was more tender than the wretch dying near him, the murder or ravens left the child alone, settling on his form and nearby. While most would be horrified by the grisly tableaux, the boy looked down at the scene with a slight grin and stormy grey eyes glinting with delight. He had found his savior. And he was born again.