"Potions of Healing are ten gold." A roll of his eyes accompanies a defeated sigh. "Yes, of course you are."
His shoulders straighten, his following words a practiced script. "Master Lorroakan is the most talented wizard in Baldur's Gate, it's only natural he would possess the ability to keep a handful of constructs going without more than a thought. The armor, the projections, the portals- all Master Lorroakan's doing."
The part Rolan is still trying to piece together is why him? Yes, he'd saved the children, but he's also not one of the refugees hanging around Rivington. He's got a job- or what can at least be perceived as one despite having yet to learn anything from Lorroakan himself. Oh, he's fortunate enough to be here in the first place, he knows that. It's a miracle the wizard even wrote back to him and gave him the time of day. "Then why don't you go help them and stop fishing for information you clearly already know?"
He knows how fucked up their situation is in the city, but is it truly so much to ask to move on from their previous misery? Rolan's jaw snaps closed as he looks away from Zevlor, not wanting to look at him and know he's right. He'd rather push through and hope something has to come of the situation he's found himself in. It has to work out so he can provide for his siblings- they all deserve that much after so long struggling. "You don't think I know how we're perceived? How all we amount to is our heritage?"
Not once has Lorroakan addressed him by name. To him, Rolan is 'tiefling' or perhaps more insulting, 'boy'. Where there are tieflings, surely devils are not far behind in the small minds of the mostly-human city. "I don't know what you expect me to do about it!" His tone is waspish, exasperated at the reminder that no, things aren't actually better now that they've reached Baldur's Gate.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2024-08-15 04:39 pm (UTC)His shoulders straighten, his following words a practiced script. "Master Lorroakan is the most talented wizard in Baldur's Gate, it's only natural he would possess the ability to keep a handful of constructs going without more than a thought. The armor, the projections, the portals- all Master Lorroakan's doing."
The part Rolan is still trying to piece together is why him? Yes, he'd saved the children, but he's also not one of the refugees hanging around Rivington. He's got a job- or what can at least be perceived as one despite having yet to learn anything from Lorroakan himself. Oh, he's fortunate enough to be here in the first place, he knows that. It's a miracle the wizard even wrote back to him and gave him the time of day. "Then why don't you go help them and stop fishing for information you clearly already know?"
He knows how fucked up their situation is in the city, but is it truly so much to ask to move on from their previous misery? Rolan's jaw snaps closed as he looks away from Zevlor, not wanting to look at him and know he's right. He'd rather push through and hope something has to come of the situation he's found himself in. It has to work out so he can provide for his siblings- they all deserve that much after so long struggling. "You don't think I know how we're perceived? How all we amount to is our heritage?"
Not once has Lorroakan addressed him by name. To him, Rolan is 'tiefling' or perhaps more insulting, 'boy'. Where there are tieflings, surely devils are not far behind in the small minds of the mostly-human city. "I don't know what you expect me to do about it!" His tone is waspish, exasperated at the reminder that no, things aren't actually better now that they've reached Baldur's Gate.