Len had been cursed thanks to his fathers greed and desire for power. He grew up alone, feared, ridiculed and ostracized for what he was. He learned quickly how to build a thick skin, how to take a beating and dish one out. He learned how to move through shadows and conjure magic, though he dare not let his father see him. He'd been caught once playing around with spells and ended up locked away like a prisoner for over a week.
He didn't go out much unless his father demanded it. He kept to himself and looked after his little sister, who was born a human, as he had been meant to. With their mother gone and their father scarce, Len had to raise her and take care of her on his own. He protected her from their Father's wrath when the man would come home unsatisfied with his pursuits. Nothing was ever enough and Len became the whipping boy for most of his life.
Until Mick was brought in for extra muscle. Len had never seen anyone that looked even remotely similar to how he does. Humans, Orcs, Elves, Halflings and Dwarves, but no others with horns, a tail and glowing eyes or claws like him. He knew he was more infernal than dragon, but to see someone else like him was fascinating. Maybe that's what drew him to Mick so easily, how they bonded without much more than a few words between them.
Len didn't fit in anywhere. His home wasn't his home. Even though he'd never met another Tiefling, he was an oddball even to his own kind. His skin was more of a blue tone than red and he preferred the cold to heat. He even specialized in ice spells when he could dabble in magic. His roguish nature was really the only stereotype he seemed to follow.
But even with Mick around Lewis didn't spare the rod any less. Even if his new half-dragon pet wasn't free of his ire, Len still remained a shield and something to take out his frustration on.
The half-dragon was sent along with Len to keep an eye on him, so he wouldn't stray or run, so he'd get the job done and return home successful. One too many times he'd gone out on his own and not returned for days, only to come back empty handed simply because he didn't care anymore. There were plenty of times he needed the back up, out-numbered or out-gunned and he couldn't run the risk of being caught. So the muscle was necessary, not only to keep him in line, but to keep him alive.
Enough was enough. Len couldn't stand to remain under his father's rule anymore and he sure as hell wasn't leaving the others to suffer his wrath. So he'd pocketed the keys with a deft hand and slipped out to the dank hole he kept Mick locked up in. He released him, motioning in the dark for the other to follow, silver-blue eyes glowing lightly and shifting around his surroundings. He'd snuck his sister off to safety separating her from their escape to keep their father off her trail. He'd sooner chase down his bastard son and the expensive pet he'd lost anyway.
"Stay low." He whispers, "And quiet." Sneaking out of the grounds wouldn't be easy, he knows his father sets up perimeter spells to set off alarms if they escape. The man had been paranoid and more controlling in his old age. Len would have to find the runes and disable the spells as they went, which ran the risk of setting them off if he failed to dispell it correctly.
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He didn't go out much unless his father demanded it. He kept to himself and looked after his little sister, who was born a human, as he had been meant to. With their mother gone and their father scarce, Len had to raise her and take care of her on his own. He protected her from their Father's wrath when the man would come home unsatisfied with his pursuits. Nothing was ever enough and Len became the whipping boy for most of his life.
Until Mick was brought in for extra muscle. Len had never seen anyone that looked even remotely similar to how he does. Humans, Orcs, Elves, Halflings and Dwarves, but no others with horns, a tail and glowing eyes or claws like him. He knew he was more infernal than dragon, but to see someone else like him was fascinating. Maybe that's what drew him to Mick so easily, how they bonded without much more than a few words between them.
Len didn't fit in anywhere. His home wasn't his home. Even though he'd never met another Tiefling, he was an oddball even to his own kind. His skin was more of a blue tone than red and he preferred the cold to heat. He even specialized in ice spells when he could dabble in magic. His roguish nature was really the only stereotype he seemed to follow.
But even with Mick around Lewis didn't spare the rod any less. Even if his new half-dragon pet wasn't free of his ire, Len still remained a shield and something to take out his frustration on.
The half-dragon was sent along with Len to keep an eye on him, so he wouldn't stray or run, so he'd get the job done and return home successful. One too many times he'd gone out on his own and not returned for days, only to come back empty handed simply because he didn't care anymore. There were plenty of times he needed the back up, out-numbered or out-gunned and he couldn't run the risk of being caught. So the muscle was necessary, not only to keep him in line, but to keep him alive.
Enough was enough. Len couldn't stand to remain under his father's rule anymore and he sure as hell wasn't leaving the others to suffer his wrath. So he'd pocketed the keys with a deft hand and slipped out to the dank hole he kept Mick locked up in. He released him, motioning in the dark for the other to follow, silver-blue eyes glowing lightly and shifting around his surroundings. He'd snuck his sister off to safety separating her from their escape to keep their father off her trail. He'd sooner chase down his bastard son and the expensive pet he'd lost anyway.
"Stay low." He whispers, "And quiet." Sneaking out of the grounds wouldn't be easy, he knows his father sets up perimeter spells to set off alarms if they escape. The man had been paranoid and more controlling in his old age. Len would have to find the runes and disable the spells as they went, which ran the risk of setting them off if he failed to dispell it correctly.