Finally, the Caliban has come Back! To Baroh-via! No, wait, that's someone else.
About a decade ago, a large bruiser named Big Ike moved through an area that the Blood Eye tribe considered its turf. After beating down several scouting parties, Big Ike was accepted as one of the orcs of the tribe, and even hung out with some of the rougher females. As it happens he was as fertile as he was tough, and left behind him a pair of twins before moving on to the next horizon. The elder was named Filthy Ike, in honor of his dad's dark skin and his Ma's tusks. His twin, the younger by two minutes, was darker still. Thus, Filthier Ike entered the world.
He never became as tough or as well liked as his sibling, perhaps because Ma figured she could manage to raise one, but never two, of Big Ike's kids. He ended up developing a personality, of sorts, taking as his credo the earliest thing he can remember Ma saying to him:
"Ike, you better learn to be pleasant, because face it-- you're ugly, and people don't like you."
This has long ceased to be true, perhaps largely because he's never forgotten it. By the age of ten, he'd gotten in enough orcs' way to learn to stay out, and he was encouraged to explore the world by the village shaman, with the words,
"Get yer butt out of here and stay out, ya ugly bastard!"
Nearing five feet in height by this time, he reached a small human settlement, and managed to get work helping the guardsmen train. This mostly involved suiting up in pads and armor and being shot at or wailed on with staves. Filthier Ike soon learned that avoiding getting hit was good, and hitting back was acceptable. After a year of this, he was rather good at it. He even had some pieces of armor to call his own.
Towering well over six feet by now and well muscled, he even managed to be taken aside for a brief dalliance by one of the local gals. This was the highlight of his life, and the best relationship he didn't have to fight his way out of. He had found a second thing he was good at, and decided that life wasn't so bad after all.
In the morning, he saw the woman collect on the wager. Packing his things, he had left town within the hour. The guardsman who met him on the way out of town, and who asked him what the matter, was never knew what hit him.
With a little travelling cash now, and a few weapons, he made his way from town to town. He earned his meals working as a bodyguard from time to time, as a night watchman, as a bouncer, for about ten more years. When times were thin, he'd hunt.
Times were getting good when he hit the great donkey market known as Big Ass. He'd made good money escorting a drive of animals to market, and had managed to gamble some of it into a great mound of coins. This he immediately spent on a fine souvenir, a mighty greataxe engraved with the kicking end of a donkey, and the name of the town. At the next town down the road, he met the folks he'd be spending a lot more time with.
In a saloon near the docks, he heard an amazing voice. An elven woman, entertaining the customers had a voice like an angel's, and was quite easy on the eye. None too sturdy, but hey, what can you expect from elves? He let himself enjoy watching and listening. Two other elves were paying close attention to her as well. One of them carried a long bow, with quite a few wicked looking arrows. That one, who gave his name as Kandrill, seemed quite grim, and was clearly a great hunter, which earned him some respect. The other, quite dapper and with an air of vague annoyance about him, was introduced as Glenwynnel Caerdannoch. Glen seemed to do. Glen seemed to be the sort of guy that was going to be at the center of a lot of fights. Make that, a hell of a lot of fights. Thus, this was clearly the place to be.
Amazingly, they let him tag along with them on a boat trip downriver to a place called Cut & Shoot. There were rumors of work there, and the chance to make more dosh. Told that the trip would take a few days, and that the galley would offer simple fare, Filthier Ike was quite pleased.
"I likes to see fairs. I saw one with a guy who had a dancing mouse once."
Alas, no dancing mouse. No Cut & Shoot, either, as it happened. During the dead of night, the raft was attacked by some great tentacled monstrosity, and surrounded in mist. By morning, the raft had washed up on the shore of a very different place indeed. Swamps stretched in all directions. Eventually, a trail led to a town called Marais de Tarascon, which claimed to be in a country called Souraigne.
Everything seemed different here. Accents were strange, people were more superstitious and suspicious of strangers, and people had a word for Filthier Ike.
Caliban.
As the four of them have traveled what they've been told is "The Land of Mists" that word has been consistent. Absorbing some of that superstition, he has finally taken on the name as his own, keeping his own name for himself, and asking his companions not to use it, either. There is a power in secrets, and a danger in having one's true name known.
The group has most recently been living in Nova Vaasa, making weapons for Prince Rivtov in the town of Egertis. At a party there, he was delighted to see someone who looked much like he does-- coal black skin, white hair, and tusked teeth. He'd had to guess at the latter, because of a veil she wore over the lower half of her face. Her name was Zenetta. She was a servant in Prince Rivtov's castle.
Spending the night of the Prince's party helping Zenetta wash dishes, he made a fast friend. Inexplicably, she even wanted to be with him, and not on a bet. Word in the castle was that it was "cute" that the two of them were together, or perhaps the word was "a great relief." When it was time to leave, at the end of the year, he asked her to come along, and she's accepted.
He's been asked whether the two of them will marry, and the thought had not occurred to him. He's been too happy with what he has now to think he could get more than that, but he finally screwed up the courage to ask if that was something she'd want. It has been nearly twenty years since he first heard it, but his Ma's words still echo in his head. He was astonished to hear her accept his proposal with enthusiasm, and he'll be asking Kandryll, who has become a priest of the Morninglord, to marry them.
For the first time in the Caliban's life, everything is wonderful. He is truly happy and wonders what he did to deserve all this. He's gonna make sure Zenetta has a great life with him, long and joyful.
God help anyone who gets in the way of that dream.
The Caliban's remarks on his comrades:
Kandrill Hawkarrow-- A good guy, mostly. He wigs out a little sometimes, usually around dead stuff. He and the Morninglord kinda need to work out what's what.
Glenwynnel Caerdannoch-- That's a mouthful, ain't it? Glen is an okay guy. Kinda girly but, you know, an okay guy. Wish he'd let his hair down a little and have some fun.
Via Celana-- Great voice, nice rack. You know, for an elf. She does a good
job of keepin' us patched up and moving. I think we kinda baby her a little
sometimes. Glad she's wit' us.