WORLD: The Diary of Morgil Pimeestara
Things have changed a lot since I left the Halls of Mezzobaritonellamanyahnyah, my old home, but I still carry inside me a piece of that evil place, and probably always shall. For wherever I go, people shall always think of me as one of "them". They shall look at me, and judge me by my skin-colour of delicious mocca-choklit and my pointy ears. A Dark Elf. Menace II Society. Original Gangsta. Boy from da 'Hood...
Only because every single other Dark Elf is a homicidal maniac and a Demon-worshipper, they automatically consider me one too. I, whose name was cursed in my old homeland ever since I dared to deny my inheritance and question the ways of the Old. The Mezzobaritonellamanyahnyah is forbidden from me forever, but alas! I have found the outside world can be unfriendly and unhospitable as well, and the wall of prejudice a difficult one to break. Fortunately I have also found that there are people who are willing to look deeper then only skin-deep, and have seen my true self, which is one cool dude. To them I shall always be in gratitude...
But let's get back to the oppression and rudeness, shall we? Everywhere I went, doors were shut in front of my face, dogs were sent to me, and a lot of sharp objects thrown at me. Am I bitter about it? Naaah, not me, no Siree. For sticks and stones might break my bones, but I usually manage to dodge them. And then hand out some Poetic Justice (not much, just a bit).
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times of my life in the Dale of Backwind, and hardly a week went by without some monsters or demons to fight. But finally I grew tired to all that, and I felt like I had reached the maximum experience points that place had to offer. And lo! As soon as I had made my decision, a mysterious vortex appeared and cast me into this unknown dark cellar, behind locked doors. Typical! I bet a white guy would have gotten a better start, but who's complaining, not me...
The darkness surrounding me is like the darkness...oh skip it!
The welcoming committee of my (possible) new homeland was rude and suspicious, which was a pleasant change from the usual, which is suspicious and rude. They don't seem remarkably unpleasant though, and look relatively decent in general. The Dwarf in particular made a positive impression on me (and I pride myself on being a good judge of character), so I'm thinking I should give them a chance to see if they are worthy of my company. I am not too worried about their hostility, because as my old teacher used to say: "Once you've established yourself, they gotta accept you!"
Indeed it seems that if I want to win the respect of my new
(possible) comrades, I'll have to perform some kind of valiant
deed of great bravery and cunning skillfullness. Of course it
will have to be twice as impressive to what would be
required from a white guy, but nevermiiinnnd...
I wonder what kind of a deed would come in question. This
is a strange new world, and I have no knowledge of what kind
horrors and monsters it is infested by. I wish there would be
some Balrogs here - slaying one would be a pleasure. Seems
unlikely though, for nearly all the remaining Balrogs have a
residence in the Roggytopia, far away from here. There was
of course him, but he died long ago...
Philosophically speaking - Hey! Where did everybody go?? Oh, this is just typical!