Burt and his favourite crossbow, Bertha, enjoying a piece of grass at his Ma's favourite picknic place.
M’name’s Carlissey, Burt Carlissey, an’ here’s my story....
I am born an’ bred as a Drailoth colonist. An’ that meanin’ a lot more than you sissy townsfolk thinkin’. Nothin’ comes for free. We had to work hard for every bowl of durlig soup. My Pa always told me, them Burdothian town dwellers are weaklings, an’ he sure was right. They don’t know nothin’ of what it’s like to gettin’ up in the mornin’ feeding the thombos. The know nothin’ of harvestin’ durlig. They know nothin’ of what it bein’ like to defend your precious piece a land from raiders, ramian devils, thrarch apes an’ wild beasts.
Simply put, we colonists are made up of tougher material than the whitehand ladyboys of the ol’ land. I bet my Ma could wipe the floor with the lot of ya, if she was still alive. Huh!
But with too many mouths to feed I had to leave the farm an’ join the armee. They taught me how to swing a sword an’ patch up a wound or two, but the bastards also made me hate’em. Them bastard blue blooded good-fer-nuthin’-officers an’ generals can kiss my stinkin’ behind. They don’t care nuthin’ for the lives of the hard workin’ farmers. They care only ‘bout their “stateeegic objectaaaiives”. They’re too bloody scared to face the ramian devils right on. An’ when the devils attacked Drailoth an’ raided the entire south, them low lifes retreated to their towns an’ garrisons an’ left the farmers to defend their property fer themselves.
Me and my farmer buddys protested of course, an’ they responded by floggin’ us to the bones. Can ya believe that? But I bet I was lucky not to get the tunnel worms. Hah! Anyways, they gave me a “dishonorable discharge” as them fancy peacocks named it. Didn’t matta’. By the time I got back home, the devil armee had retreated. I found the farm burned to the ground and my Ma and Pa murdered along with most of my sisters an’ brothers. Three of’em were missin’. I bet the ramian devils took’em fer slaves. I’ve sworn by Bellona that some day I will avenge them an’ maybe even set my sister an’ my two brothers free.
(Burt spends a few years hanking around as a banjo player at taverns around the port city, but then decides to put up his service to the Dharsage as a tauther. He heard he was a decent fella’ and his Ma always told him he had to do somethin’ with his life)
Well that’s about it. I’m not much for talkin’ if there are no pretty ladies involved. May Arath protect ya’all.
…except fer the midget wizards. I don’t like’em. I don’t like’em a bit.
- Man ain't man if he ain't got no crossbow!
- My Ma always said, ne'er trust them muadrus.
- That Jerumaiuh Durlig, sure was a fighter if I ever saw one.
- I let townsfolk do the fancy talk. Call me when it's time to kill some mutants and bugs.
- There's too much sissyfolks in ol' Burdoth these days.
- Ne'er ever leave a ramian breathin'
- My Ma always told me, never saw your seeds when gobey is in the sky
- My Ma always told me, never set sail when Desti is low and NEVER with a woman on deck!
- My Ma always told me, sacrifice regulary to Siiris or your genitals will turn useless
- My Ma always told me, never sleep indoors on moonshift
- My Ma always told me, keep som crystals around your neck to protect you against the
- wrath of Bellona
- My Pa always told me, never take an offence (unless you're havily outnumbered)
- My Ma always told me, warps are dangerous. Pray and perform the proper rituals first or you'll be turned into a thrarch.
- My Pa always told me, never unsheathe yer sword on equinox (the four holidays every year)
- Nobody calls me yello’