[IC] Chapter 2-1: Falter and Scream

[Lugar]

It was at these time Lugar wished he wasn't immune to his own Drow poison... He thought about offering a prick or two of the poison to his fellow bunk mates if they really wanted sleep, but he couldn't decide what to charge for the service.  Sleep finally overtook him.... Awakening to a series of knocks on the door, the dark dwarf finally understood why his kind took these people as slaves, so they could get some bloody sleep!  "Grrr, this damn sun!  Someone close the curtains, the light is giving me a headache!" He snaps at the servants bringing linens for his bed.  Lugar gets up and heads straight for the cold water.  He takes a swig for his dry throat then splashes the rest on his face.  "Ahh that's better."  He says, finally waking up.  Lugar finds a towel to dry off and wipe up the mess on his bare grey chest, and notices the look of horror on the servant's faces as they stare at him.  He just grunts. ~ They wouldn't survive a day in the Underdark ~

Lugar looks at his own tattoos scribed up his arms, over his shoulders, and across his chest.  Although he couldn't see the ones on his back he could still feel them even to this day.  The artwork wasn't for pleasure, no, they were a mark of an outcast among Duergar, a criminal, and those tattoos were meant for torture.  Every mark was slowly and painfully hammered into his grey skin and he writhed in agony with every blow.  Lugar finds his armor and dons it, still stinking of yesterdays adventure.  He gathered his poisons, his trusty war pick, and belt.  ~I'll leave the rest here for now. Where's that big burly half-human? I bet he'll share a drink of ale with me.~