Name: Dorian Atwater
Race: Human
Age: Early 30s
Build: Wiry muscles. Athletic. Average height.
Appearance: Brown cropped hair. Heavily lidded grey eyes. He sports a smile with lines on his countenance that indicate frequent laughter. He looks unremarkable besides two prominent scars. A roughly sealed burn scar travels to a pronounced aquiline nose from his upper lip. The other is a clean crimson slice that tightens the surrounding skin unnaturally and travels from under his left eye to his ear. He usually wears simple dark-toned clothing with a scarf or high collar obscuring his neck. His left hand is always gloved and typically tucked behind his waist. His gait betrays a limp.
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Thwack!
He summoned enough willpower to bury the spade deep into the rocky soil again —the sun mercilessly scorched its fury upon the farm and the man. He strained and heaved against the immovable earth. Sweat continuously streamed down his sunburned complexion.
"This is the last time. Just one more stone, and you get a break," the thought rang with a comforting falsehood.
The planting season was quickly approaching, and this new ground was still unprepared. They were behind schedule. He'd be forced to work late and miss meals if he didn't reach his daily quota.
His rock pile was much smaller than another prisoner laboring nearby. He gritted his teeth and redoubled his effort. His exposed back ached with discomfort while his arms protested with trembling exhaustion.
The soil was not budging, and he released tension on the handle.
"Must be another rock." He whispered in parched reverence. He would have laughed with joy if he had the energy.
He pulled the tool back from the earth and leaned on it precariously. He deserved a short rest before unearthing the discovery.
Glancing at the sky, he knew it was nearly noon. If this poor luck continued, he would get no break for another hour or two. He had been wrong yesterday. Today was the worst day of his life.
"Eh, Dorian! Tough day?"
The cheerful voice came from a balding man in his middle years whose body betrayed significant weight loss. His loose arm skin sagged with a moist sheen of fatigue, contrasting jowls that shook with triumph.
"Tough day, Senick, " Dorian echoed tonelessly.
"Well, me?" Senick began without prompting. "I'm all done for the day. Hit the motherload, I did. Heading for some shade and water, I am." He grinned broadly, his missing teeth not detracting from his vitality.
Senick's beady eyes shifted to peer at Dorian's diminutive pile of rocks, and his smile broadened.
"Well, you're in for a long day, lad. A long day, indeed. Wonder if you'll see a break today. Looking spent, you are. Like some rung-out peasant."
Dorian grunted and removed his weight from the shovel. He better start working on that stone. It seemed like a large one.
"You know I'm leaving soon, right? My sentence is up." Senick continued, his cracked lips splitting with the strain of his smile.
Thwack!
Dorian planted the spade back in the earth. He could feel the stone's weight now, and it was massive. The ground would jealously guard him against taking the treasure. He'd have to pry it loose like a rotten tooth.
"Tomorrow. I'll be gone, back to the city. My crew is waiting for me. Doubt you'll see me again, boy. Yes, tomorrow, I'll be back in Waterdeep. Boys got a surprise waiting for me, I suspect."
Dorian grunted tiredly in response.
He'd have to get the angle just right. Too deep, and he'd waste energy. Too shallow, and he'd be at it longer than necessary. He knew he'd need to find the edge of the stone and pry it out after working the soil. Like some creature beneath the waves, he envisioned it breaching the surface and flying impossibly into his pile.
"And dear me, the surprise was worth my last sentence. Waiting always makes it better. I can't make myself wait outside. Young thing, they got me. Cried herself sick, she did. Eventually went all quiet, they always do."
Senick sighed heavily and gave the shovel on his shoulder a merry little twirl.
Thwack!
It was coming loose. One more effort, and he would have another one in his pile. Warm water and cool shade would be his reward. Blessed oblivion and weightlessness till he was forced to rise again and make another pile.
"What's this world coming to, eh, Dorian? Mothers' selling their kids to slobs like me for a night just to put bread on the table. Sad times, Dorian. Sad times." Senick toned with mock sincerity, taking his eyes off Dorian to glance towards the nearest resting tent.
Thwack!
Metal collided with flesh and bone. The bulky man's stout nose crumpled into a bloody lump beneath the spade. A sharp squick escaped his throat before his limp body thudded into a shallow trench prepared for the seeds of the coming harvest.
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
Whistles sounded, and frantic shouts broke out across the farmstead.
Race: Human
Age: Early 30s
Build: Wiry muscles. Athletic. Average height.
Appearance: Brown cropped hair. Heavily lidded grey eyes. He sports a smile with lines on his countenance that indicate frequent laughter. He looks unremarkable besides two prominent scars. A roughly sealed burn scar travels to a pronounced aquiline nose from his upper lip. The other is a clean crimson slice that tightens the surrounding skin unnaturally and travels from under his left eye to his ear. He usually wears simple dark-toned clothing with a scarf or high collar obscuring his neck. His left hand is always gloved and typically tucked behind his waist. His gait betrays a limp.
--------
Thwack!
He summoned enough willpower to bury the spade deep into the rocky soil again —the sun mercilessly scorched its fury upon the farm and the man. He strained and heaved against the immovable earth. Sweat continuously streamed down his sunburned complexion.
"This is the last time. Just one more stone, and you get a break," the thought rang with a comforting falsehood.
The planting season was quickly approaching, and this new ground was still unprepared. They were behind schedule. He'd be forced to work late and miss meals if he didn't reach his daily quota.
His rock pile was much smaller than another prisoner laboring nearby. He gritted his teeth and redoubled his effort. His exposed back ached with discomfort while his arms protested with trembling exhaustion.
The soil was not budging, and he released tension on the handle.
"Must be another rock." He whispered in parched reverence. He would have laughed with joy if he had the energy.
He pulled the tool back from the earth and leaned on it precariously. He deserved a short rest before unearthing the discovery.
Glancing at the sky, he knew it was nearly noon. If this poor luck continued, he would get no break for another hour or two. He had been wrong yesterday. Today was the worst day of his life.
"Eh, Dorian! Tough day?"
The cheerful voice came from a balding man in his middle years whose body betrayed significant weight loss. His loose arm skin sagged with a moist sheen of fatigue, contrasting jowls that shook with triumph.
"Tough day, Senick, " Dorian echoed tonelessly.
"Well, me?" Senick began without prompting. "I'm all done for the day. Hit the motherload, I did. Heading for some shade and water, I am." He grinned broadly, his missing teeth not detracting from his vitality.
Senick's beady eyes shifted to peer at Dorian's diminutive pile of rocks, and his smile broadened.
"Well, you're in for a long day, lad. A long day, indeed. Wonder if you'll see a break today. Looking spent, you are. Like some rung-out peasant."
Dorian grunted and removed his weight from the shovel. He better start working on that stone. It seemed like a large one.
"You know I'm leaving soon, right? My sentence is up." Senick continued, his cracked lips splitting with the strain of his smile.
Thwack!
Dorian planted the spade back in the earth. He could feel the stone's weight now, and it was massive. The ground would jealously guard him against taking the treasure. He'd have to pry it loose like a rotten tooth.
"Tomorrow. I'll be gone, back to the city. My crew is waiting for me. Doubt you'll see me again, boy. Yes, tomorrow, I'll be back in Waterdeep. Boys got a surprise waiting for me, I suspect."
Dorian grunted tiredly in response.
He'd have to get the angle just right. Too deep, and he'd waste energy. Too shallow, and he'd be at it longer than necessary. He knew he'd need to find the edge of the stone and pry it out after working the soil. Like some creature beneath the waves, he envisioned it breaching the surface and flying impossibly into his pile.
"And dear me, the surprise was worth my last sentence. Waiting always makes it better. I can't make myself wait outside. Young thing, they got me. Cried herself sick, she did. Eventually went all quiet, they always do."
Senick sighed heavily and gave the shovel on his shoulder a merry little twirl.
Thwack!
It was coming loose. One more effort, and he would have another one in his pile. Warm water and cool shade would be his reward. Blessed oblivion and weightlessness till he was forced to rise again and make another pile.
"What's this world coming to, eh, Dorian? Mothers' selling their kids to slobs like me for a night just to put bread on the table. Sad times, Dorian. Sad times." Senick toned with mock sincerity, taking his eyes off Dorian to glance towards the nearest resting tent.
Thwack!
Metal collided with flesh and bone. The bulky man's stout nose crumpled into a bloody lump beneath the spade. A sharp squick escaped his throat before his limp body thudded into a shallow trench prepared for the seeds of the coming harvest.
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack!
Whistles sounded, and frantic shouts broke out across the farmstead.
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