I spent the last weeks taking small jobs in the village, which I found at the wall by the swamp. Lower level jobs where I didn't have much to do with the mob. As it turned out, the people here didn't want to be served by a Drow in the tavern, or were even disgusted when they learned that a Drow was washing dishes and cutlery. They mocked me, in my presence, spat at me and tried to beat me as if I was a lowly creature unworthy of life. I had to resist the temptation more than once not to send them all to their gods. Among all these men who treated me like a piece of meat here, groped me, spat at me, beat me, if I were one in the underworld … Yes, what would I be? An unpopular half-breed who is despised and hunted even by his own race. Often enough the mob in the schools reminded me that I was not ›pure blood‹.
I have to move on, to a bigger city where hopefully Drow won't be treated so badly. On top of that, I was so badly paid, it was barely enough for food and shelter. In the beginning they even wanted to enslave me, which I could only escape by beating one of them so soft with my staff and shock-starring another one with lightning bolts. It's a wonder the guards didn't lynch me directly because of that.
After I received the last coins, I packed my things and moved further north with Nimri. At the end of the village I met two guards »Where is our slave going to in such a hurry?« one of the two, obviously drunk, guards barked. »I'm not a slave« I answered him harshly. »Slaves are not paid« laughed the other, whereupon the first one came back »That still doesn't answer my question! Where are you going to so late?« »Away« was all he heard in reply. He came closer and stood up in front of me. His drunken flag and his unkempt appearance were almost enough to make me nauseous. He looked down at me »If you won't tell me where, there's something else you can do for me« he demanded with a broad grin on his face and grabbed my breast. Just at that moment I grabbed the hand that was touching my chest, pulled him towards me and rammed my knee between his legs. As he wriggled and moved away from me with a »you fucking bitch«, I pulled my stick and wiped it through his face. After he hit the ground unconscious, the other seemed to have realized what had happened and pulled his sword and shield. I watched him for a while, but as shaky as he held his weapon and stared at me with eyes wide open, he did not seem to have been in service for very long. I passed him calmly, loaded my staff and prepared for him to find the courage to attack me after all. But he didn't.
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