Ekemon


Fortune changes swiftly. An hour ago, I was a slave.

A day ago, I was a criminal. A murderer.

A week ago, I was not.

I was merely unemployed and unemployable. Marked. They say the great grandfather of my great grandfather was an evil iffrit of the moon, or that I was born under Az-Zuban al-Janubi – the claw of the south. Nonsense. And yet, I am marked. Marked in my body, marked in my mind and soul. The shadows call to me.

What to me is the death of a fat merchant?

I am a fool. Naive. Of course I was framed, I was set up. But I cannot plead innocence. It was indeed my hand that placed the poison. For a fee. But who is guilty? The one who places the poison, or the one who pays for it to be placed? Both, of course. Each man under heaven bears his guilt.

Nevertheless, I am sold into slavery, and the thin man who hired me goes free, free to become richer and more powerful with his rival dead. May he die soon of the sickness that consumes him. May his children and house perish and be forgotten.

Ekemon, am I.

But no longer a slave. I traveled to insert name here, bound in the ships hold with five others. No swift death for me – strong enough to be made a slave. They whipped and goaded us, but I held my peace, for I would rather work in the house than in the yard or in the fields, as the fool chained next to me was destined to do. A yoke, a whip, and an early death was to be his lot. But not for me. I had plans, such as they were.

But fortune changes swiftly.

Our captain is not merely a coward, but worse – a fool. The slavers were all pirates, ready to seize his cargo of silk and spice. He fled below decks, promised us all freedom. We agreed, we chose to fight. We fought – slaves against slavers. We slew them – some as easily as children, some with more difficulty. I armed myself with a sword, others armed themselves with handfuls of cinnamon. And we prevailed.

So it is. I was enslaved for a killing, and won my freedom with three more. It is the way of the world. It is the will of the gods. What happens next shall also be fate. Perhaps I will be a sailor – it is as good a life as any, for a killer.

Yay! Season seven! We are in an Arabian Nights setting.

We are starting using the level zero rules. Mechanically, we are regular D&D races and classes, but flavour-wise, everyone is a human. Ekemon is a tiefling – he was born with a short tail, and is left-handed. I chose “shadow” power source for him, and I’ll be making him an executioner. Tiefling is actually not the ideal race for this, but screw it.

(The cinnamon-throwers, BTW, were arcanists using the level zero magic missile power)

Alignment-wise, he’s neutral evil. Not full-on eeeevil, but I think definitely over the line. We’ll see how it plays. I’ll try to avoid cloning Azroth or Korgul, who were my other darkish characters.

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