Keffnir the Bent

Deep within the gnarled roots of Narah-Gar, on the eastern side of the world is where Keffnir the Bent made his home. Ruler of his marshy province, he plotted his plans against the very elders he once called friends and the war that ravaged the world wass urged on by his nation of mud-dwellers. Many years before, Keffnir was a high ranking official in the command of the grand council. And all was well, until one day during an official war meeting to discuss the next plans to defend from the East, there was a disagreement. Keffnir had decided that the best way to win the war would be to infiltrate the East as immigrants and commit mass genocide in their main cities. However this did not sit well with the council, who were moral and just, and would not stand for war crimes or foul play. Little did they know that the less-than-sane Keffnir had ways to go through with his devious plans. On the day of the infiltration, the council was informed of the evil about to take place under their name, and he was taken into custody. Five years he spent in Magistrate Itonoh’s maximum-security torture chamber before he was deemed too sickly to survive another month. Murder was illegal on all accounts and the intelligent yet sick Magistrate Itonoh didn’t want that on his plate, so Keffnir was sent away on a sinking rowboat to disappear at sea. But he didn’t disappear. He washed up on the shores of the East and an eastern family, not knowing who Keffnir was, brought him in and nursed him back to health. His shifty and underhanded ways quickly lead to his being anointed to ruler of Narah-Gar and granted the power to exact his revenge on the country of his torturers.

Born to a Noh'garrian slave-master father and a Pernish mother, Keffnir was a half-dwarf (one of the few of his kind)

Keffnir's Personal Journal
It all started on Year 126, in the land of Noh’Gar. The Elders and Magistrates had gathered to discuss defensive plans against the onslaught of the Eastern soldiers on our land. I should mention that this was the time of the war between the Eastern and Western continents. The room was dim, lit only by the fire at the end of the meeting hall. Lining the long table, the elders, magistrates, and generals involved in the Western war effort conversed. Magistrate Itonoh had the plan to garrison extra troops in the easternmost cities and be ready for the next attack from Narah-Gar. Shrouded in shadows, a short, menacing figure stepped forward; firelight now eerily illuminating his war-hardened face. It was General Keffnir. It was me. I silenced the solemn gathering before stating my shock evoking plan.

“Elders,” I started, “The East will not stop their onslaught. They will not give up. We must send them a message. The West is no land to be reckoned with, we do not fall before brigands. After long deliberation I have decided that to cripple their armies, we must strike fear into the hearts of their leaders.” I paused, allowing my words to sink in. As of yet, no one had objections, so I continued. “We have the resources and the men to send a troop of highly trained soldiers into the heart of the east under the guise of immigrants. Once accepted and integrated into the capital city of Narah-Gar, they will plant condensed mining explosives in public and government --”

Magistrate Thraenwole’s fists slammed onto the table, cutting me off from finishing my explanation. He looked me dead in the eyes, as if searching for something. “General.” He said, “We do not stand for terrorism in this land. Your plan troubles me. You have been suspended from the force until further notice. Go home.” The others, excluding Horris who sighed, nodded in agreement.

With silent dignity, I walked out of the long meeting hall without looking back. By the time I made it to my chateau, all of the guards in the area had been alerted of my status – or lack thereof – and no longer saluted my passing by. The shadows seemed darker, the colors choked, but I did not give up. I did not lose my deliberation to win the war.

I realized that the Elders and Magistrates had gone soft over the years, once again excluding Horris, and couldn’t be trusted to take the war seriously. So as I sat at my desk, studying the war status, I planned. I planned to take out the government messenger before he made it to the next military settlement with news of my suspension. To take command of said town’s military and prepare them for the fulfillment of my (apparently devious) plan to commit “mass genocide” in the capital cities of the east. And all of this was to happen under the noses of the Elders and Magistrates.

Months passed and my small army had not found out about my top secret plan to end that blasted war once and for all. Nothing could stop us. The troops were ready, the ships and ports were prepped, and the explosives were safely stored in the cargo holds of the immigration ships. Nothing could stop us, nothing. Unless we had a rat.

And we did have a rat. Rensfir Battel, my right hand man betrayed me. He had discovered that I was suspended from the army and now being hunted by the Elders and Magistrates as a dangerous unaccounted person. So, on the day of the infiltration, the council was informed of the ‘evil’ about to take place under their name, and I was taken into custody.

Heavy mist lazily swirled through the dank corridors of Magistrate Itonoh’s maximum security torture facility. Nobody in his city really knew what happened down there, and they didn’t want to. One day a petty thief may just disappear off the street never to be seen again, but nobody questioned this for fear of becoming a prisoner themselves. One such prisoner, beaten and weak, sat slouched in a rotting cobblestone corner, murky water sitting stagnant around his body. I breathed slowly, looking blindly at the dark floor, waiting for my daily meal of salted white rice. Muffled and echoing eerily, the room emanated with the moaning of other prisoners in cells akin to my own. The crumbling stone walls were caked with moss in the corners and at the base, and the sagging wood ceiling dripped with rainwater that had seeped through the bustling streets high above my cell. Deep below the earth, in my stinking chamber, I sat, paying for my crimes.

It was five years I spent in the bowels of Magistrate Itonoh’s torture chamber before I was deemed too sickly to survive another month. Murder and executions were rare and the intelligent yet sick Magistrate Itonoh didn’t want that on his plate, so I was sent away on a sinking rowboat to disappear at sea. But I didn’t disappear. I washed up on the shores of the East and an eastern family, not knowing who I was, brought me in and nursed me back to health. My shifty and underhanded ways quickly lead to my being anointed to ruler of the marshy country known as Narah-Gar, the land of mud-dwellers, and was granted the power to exact my revenge on the nation of my torturers. So deep within the gnarled roots of my new kingdom, I wait. I prepare.­