“Hey babe!” Arkay beamed as he popped through a shadow. “Are you still working?”
Litvir shrugged as he glanced at his computer, then turned his attention to Arkay. “I am not working, actually.”
“Really?” Arkay peered at Litvir’s screen. “Looks like work.”
“Well, it is not!” Litvir smiled a little. “I am actually writing for fun. I have not been in a great mood today and was hoping that some writing might distract me a bit.”
“Oh?” Arkay seemed surprised. “I’m not interrupting your diary time or anything? I know you like writing in your diary. And I know Retvik weirdly wants to read it.”
“I do not understand why Retvik wishes to read my diary either. There is very little in it, I mostly use it to record my dreams and save the good ones for later. But no, this is not writing for my diary. I am in fact creating a character for a Traps and Thraki campaign.”
Arkay blinked. “Someone is doing a Traps and Thraki campaign and I haven’t heard about it?”
Litvir hesitated. “Well, no. But I wanted to do some creative writing and thought this would be a fun thing to do. After all, when we did that campaign as Decaylings, I had a ready-made character handed to me, and I did not really do much with what I had. And I was also shoehorned into a warlock because of my psionic powers. So I have decided to make my own character.”
“Huh, interesting! So what are you making?”
Litvir shifted over so Arkay could better see his screen. “I am making a barbarian. The basic premise is that they are only evil when they rage.”
“That sounds fun! But… are they just called Litvir?”
“It is a placeholder name. I will give them a proper name later, I guess. But I do like my own name.”
“Fair. So, what have you written so far?”
Litvir glanced back at his work. “I have not rolled any of the stats yet. I decided to just stick them at level 5 for now, so I can pick a sub-class and also get the extra attack. I am currently working on their backstory.”
“Oh?”
Litvir looked up at Arkay. “You want me to read it to you?”
“Sure!” Arkay beamed. “You’ve got a glorious voice, I love hearing you speak.”
“You… you think I have a nice voice?”
“Yep. There’s tons of reasons why I love you, and your voice is one of them.”
Litvir thought for a moment, then shrugged and cleared his throat. “Well, alright. Sit yourself down, my dear, it is backstory time.”
Arkay pulled over a stool, then sat down and looked lovingly at Litvir. Litvir smiled, cleared his throat again, then started reading.
Litvir was a cruel, vicious warlord of a long-forgotten kingdom who ruled with an iron fist, gleefully murdering many a hero who tried to stand against him and routinely killing innocents to fulfil his hungry needs. But his downfall was sudden and shrouded in mystery. One minute a bandit kingdom was celebrating its dictator’s tenth year in power, the next, the entire area was in ruins and its population had scattered to the winds.
Litvir himself had no idea what happened. He instead just woke up in a ditch in the middle of nowhere, wearing battered armour, carrying a rugged sack and holding a heavy weapon. By his side was a small amulet with a note attached to it, reading “To Litvir, the worst leader on this plane of existence.” Unfortunately, Litvir couldn’t remember what he was the leader of, who had given him the amulet or what plane of existence he even lived on, and he considered himself rather lucky that the note contained what Litvir assumed to be his name.
What Litvir could remember also wasn’t of any help. He couldn’t remember how old he was, nor could he name any of his minions and cohorts. He couldn’t even remember that he was a former dictator – while that evil, hungry rage would appear while in combat, where he would routinely roar about tearing out spleens and eating the hearts of his enemies, whenever he was not fighting, Litvir seemed… not normal, but also not so evil that he had to be thrown out of any inn he was staying in. He could be civil, almost gentlemanly, if he wanted to. In the middle of battle though, mostly while fighting through the wilderness and murdering any lesser bandits he stumbled across, Litvir’s hatred, rage and all-round evilness would make him almost swell in size, up until his bloodlust was satisfied.
There was one useful thing he could remember though: the name of the central town in his kingdom, a place called Phos. That was all well and good, but no one else had ever heard of this place. Every bar and inn Litvir stumbled into claimed it wasn’t on any map they knew about.
Realising that his supplies were dwindling, Litvir realised he needed to get himself a job, or at least do something to satisfy his underlying bloodlust. That was when Litvir decided to head to the bigger cities. He needed more interesting things to murder, and the Great Arena surely would provide. And maybe, at the same time, he could find some information about who he was and where he came from.
“So…” Litvir trailed off a bit. “What do you think?”
“I like it! It’s a tad underdeveloped, but that’s to be expected!” Arkay seemed satisfied.
“I think I could do more.”
“You could, yeah, but the whole point of a Traps and Thraki character, or a character from any roleplaying game, is that you develop it as you play the game. I think this is a really good base to build from.”
“Really?” Litvir seemed hesitant.
“Yeah. That’s why I said what I just said!” Arkay paused, then thought for a moment. “Maybe we should do a campaign. I think I had the start of one written down somewhere.”
Litvir sighed. “I am not sure if I want to do a full campaign.”
“That’s fine! We can just do some one-shots if you one?”
“I guess…” Litvir fell silent, lost in though briefly. He then looked up at Arkay and sighed again. “In the mean time, Arkay I would… I would like to snuggle with you.”
“Of course, my babe!” Arkay grinned as he pulled Litvir to his feet. “Come on now, let’s get you cheered up.”