Since hearing point5b talk about last night’s D&D romp through the night with bruceb and crew, and having the opportunity to look at chargen with a bit of time, it occured to me exactly what kind of character I should create.

Evil, of course, as the “sane” side of the darker sort in the new hierarchy. Too stable and, indeed, lawful to be considered Chaotic Evil but certainly not interested in either playing by others’ rules nor simply distangling himself from such, rather favouring the end of destroying any order which is not his own. Certainly not neutral, then.

Halfling life being what it is, the type of halfler who’d take up the chain mail and skills of a cold combatant have to be rather few, and fewer yet are the number who’d take up swords and go mercenary amongst the tall folk because of his need to lead men, to command their respect, and to have they depend on so-much-smaller he.

And once he had — oh, once he had — how he enjoyed it. Not a thug but a commander of thugs. Not a cutpurse, but they knew who could orchestrate the best hits. Not an assassin, but he’d paid a few. And all that as part of the city guard itself, a step or two up off the street beat and largely kept so close rather than promoted away by the fact he knows the place too well to be let off so easy. He’s not a dirty guard because he loves the city that all these wheels within wheels he spends so much time musing over, he loves the place they spin.

Broody and foul-tempered, most of the folks on his streets thought he was one of the rogues, rather than one of the arms bringing them in by the wheelbarrow full, for the cells and the cheap burials. See him on the street, wearing dirty leather and with a knife on each hip, either nearly as big as he is, you might be forgiven the thought. See him stomping down the street at the head of two lines of men, all in chain mail, them same daggers polished and blacked and just waiting for the blooding, that’s a different thing. And when the battle was joined and throats needed slittin’, there was always one little guard with a throat screaming up without a mouth under gentle ministrations too busy ordering the other guards into the semblance of a bunch of fighting men, with snarls and shouts and not the odd punch right to the cods, too busy by far to show the smile.

(Character stats publically viewable at: http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=agbmznmcjr6_62dgpsp9dw)