Shackled City: Ruce Blackwind: Bio [1/3]

"AM TOO!" Ruce howled. He stomped his 10 year old foot and puffed up. "Everybody here knows it!" The other kids cleaning out the neighboring stalls all nodded earnestly. "See? I *AM* the sole survivor of the Tor-line expedition.  I have family all over the kingdom of Avenloff. My grandfather was in the royal court! As soon as the war is over, they will send another search party for me!"

From atop his pony, the elf youth glared daggers at Ruce. But then an evil smile spread across his face. "I understand now. How rude of me to cavil the tale of your lineage."

Ruce paused, uncertain of what was just said. It sounded ... kind of like an apology, he thought. "Uh…"

"You don't belong in these stables, do you boy?" The elf continued, his smile growing wider. "You're not a real orphan at all. Your parents died at the hands of a troll raiding party, didn't they? Your mother WASN'T some whore who sold you to her dealer for one more night's worth of gibberweed, was she?"

"My mother was an EMMERSRY--" Ruce beat his chest.

"EM-IS-SAR-Y, right - on the Tor-line expedition. Why, EVERY kid knows of that tale! You must be QUITE respected among all the other whelps here. Everyone wants to be friends with the son of royalty, so that when the family does come back, maybe he'll take them too. May I shake your hand, SIRE?" The elven youth leaned low in his saddle and offered out his hand, encased in the softest black suede.
   
Ruce stepped forward and offered his own hand back, but the elf instead lunged and grabbed a fistful of the boy's hair. Ruce shrieked and swatted at the elf's arm, but the older lad was shockingly strong and actually lifted Ruce off the ground.

"Oh just one question!" The elf roared over the cries of all the other children running up. "What happened to your EARS boy? They're ROUND! And the one thing everyone SHOULD know about the Tor-line expedition: everyone on it was HALF ELF! Did the trolls bite your ears off? or MAYBE they are hiding in all your horse shit!"

With that, the elf released his grip and kicked Ruce in the stomach, sending him tumbling back into the filthy stall where he landed in exactly that, just as the Fairwind orphanage/stable owner ran into the barn to see what the commotion was.

What he saw was: the son of his best boarder ride off laughing… a cluster of his scuts standing around not working … And his prime trouble-maker slowly stand, shaking with fury and shame, covered from head to toe on the right side of his body with manure.

The stable owner, an ancient (and suspiciously dark-skinned)  elf, frowned, nodded once, and turned to grab a whip from the barn door.