"My story? You want to hear my story?"
A quiet chuckle emits from the lips of the short halfling. His amusement at your inquiry dances in his eyes for a moment before vanishing. "That's a story still unfolding," he continues. "But... you're interesting enough, and I guess I ought to tell someone. After all..." A set of shiny white teeth reveal themselves as he grins at you. "It would be unfun if my story went untold." The grin shrinks into a small half-smile as he turns his attention to the near-empty tavern the two of you are sitting in. "Well, where to begin..." He flicks his gaze at you, and you immediately try to avert your stare. You hear him chuckle again. "That's probably a good start. As you've already noticed, I take after my father's side of the family in height. Most of my human relatives are rather short. Some are even considered midgets. Or dwarves or whatever you like calling them. Little people. The rest of my complexion, however, comes from my mother's line... some ways more obvious than others." With his hair pulled back, his pointed ears are in full view as he wiggles them. "They were great people. I wonder what ever happened to them..." He fiddles with the block of wood in his hands as he talks, only pausing when he sees you staring. "It's a habit," he explains to your unasked question. "Both sides of my family work with wood. A family of carpenters and archers, they are. Besides my appearance, it's one of the only things I really inherited from them." He rummages through his bag, pulls out a whittling knife, and proceeds to whittle away at the block. You find it fascinating that he is doing so without even looking at the wood. "Now, where was I... oh yes. The separation from my family. Hm... well, I'm assuming I was kidnapped. It's the only logical explanation of why I fell asleep in my own bed but woke up in the brig of an airship." He shrugs, and you wonder how he can talk about it in such a casual tone. "Why they wanted me, I have no idea. Most of the others looked like they wrestled cattle for fun. Twice my age, too. Being so small, it felt like having giants for cellmates. Some of them teased and bullied me, but that just comes with the territory, I guess. They were better than our... caretakers were. By the way they spoke acted, I'd guess they were slave traders of some sort. Y'know, kidnap a bunch of kids, take them to a foreign land, sell them to the highest bidder. But we were a special order by the looks of it. The people we were sold to didn't look none to happy to see me."
"I got away, of course. I'll spare you the gruesome details. Don't want you to lose your lunch, now do we?" As he looks up at you and grins, you can't help feel uneasy. And by the halfling's next words, he's noticed. "Ah. So you've started to realize it." His smile shrinks, but remains fixed on his face. "I apologize if it seems unnatural to you, but I won't be showing you my true feelings. I don't mind sharing my story, but even an interesting person like you will only see the parts of my heart that I want you to see." His ever-present smile widens again. "A heart's a hard thing to keep concealed, but it's better than the alternative... at least for me. After a while, it becomes an instinct. It's a little like that saying. You know, that if you wear a mask long enough, it becomes your face. Or something like that." He waves his hand dismissively. "Don't think too hard on it. You'll give yourself a headache."
"Now, where were we?"
Those words draw you back to reality. You stare as the halfling sets a small wooden replica of an Azrien on the bar counter. You quickly realize that it was the piece of wood that he'd been whittling away at as he spoke and you are fascinated by the amount of detail in it. "It's not as interesting as the real thing," he tells you. "I'm from the world below, so I'd never seen Azrien before. Actually, I hadn't really seen any horses at all. I lived by the forest, and most of the caravans used oxen. Smaller carts used mules. Anyway... In escaping my... owners, if you will, I ended up stowing away on another airship. It brought me here. I was in Red Circle for a few years before leaving the city." He pauses, then adds, "It wasn't a bad place to live, but I don't think I will be returning. City life just isn't my style." Although you can see the sincerity in his last comment, you have a feeling that's not his only reason. You say nothing as he takes out another wooden block and resumes his whittling. "I don't know why, but this helps me think," he says absently before going back to his story.
"Now that we've gone over my origins... how about we get to the part you actually wanted to hear." The halfing gives you a sly smile. "What you were really curious about... why I'm called Tkal of the Eastern Wind, right?" Chuckling at your embarrassment, he reassures you. "It's fine, it's fine. Humans are curious creatures, ne? It's not a problem. But the answer's a bit anti-climatic, to be honest..." He sets his whittling down to take a sip of the drink in front of him. "It's because the east wind is unlucky. A sign of misfortune. Masterless swordsmen like me don't have a good reputation as it is. We're seen as rogues and mercenaries. Which quite a few of us are, but that's beside the point. Unfortunate things tend to occur around me, so they associate me with the eastern wind." He grins at you again, but it seems almost malicious this time. "Careful on your way home, ne...? We wouldn't want anything happening to you." You pale, and after a moment the halfling loses his malicious expression and laughs. "Ahaha! Even your expressions are interesting!" His eyes light up as he continues. "Hey, where are you going? I'm not headed anywhere in particular, and it's more interesting to travel with someone." You're a little surprised to see how genuinely excited he is, but you're even more amazed when he sets his second wood carving on the table: it's a miniature of you!
"So? What do you say, ne? Care to travel with me?"
