“Hello my friend.” Thul Thun slurs loudly for anyone listening to hear. The drunkard’s voice warbles as he talks, but the sense of his words are competent and sure. The man has sandy brown hair and the flushed cheeks of someone well on their way to a good stupor. He would meld into the weave of the fabric of any situation with ease.īaros looks at the man that sits down next to him, as if the stranger were an old friend. He looks at the unassuming dark haired man, and smiles inwardly with satisfaction. There is not a face or conversation that he cannot recall if he wishes and he quickly spies the one he had come to see. Beyond his abilities as a changeling his greatest strength is his complete and unfailing memory. He knows nearly all of them by name and predilection. Thul is not concerned with any of the usual suspects. Ruffians, prostitutes and all manner of underworld characters meld with simple drunks to make this a perfect place for conspirators to meet. The place is relatively lively, even for this early hour. In a place the size of Caelot this is but one of many. It is full of the type of thieves, bootleggers and men of dubious motivations that can be found in any major city. This is no normal drinking establishment. He adjusts his demeanor and enters the tavern and melds with the motley crowd inside. After the meeting with Baros Blackrose, he will have to disappear and wait for his gambits resolution. ![]() The spymaster comes to terms that Deplus Sif is a cagier opponent that he thought, and has rooted out Thul Thun’s plans. He would have never believed he could be outwitted in such a manner. He senses that someone is close, but he just can’t figure where they are. He has travelled many miles, and done so quickly doubling back several times in case he was followed. ![]() He is sure that he has been followed, but not sure how. Thul Thun who may not be Thul Thun stands in front of The Green Goat Tavern calmly taking stock of his surroundings. But the frequency of one being uncovered was so rare that they almost faded into the realm of myth.īut Thul Thun, or whatever name he has chosen at the moment, is far from mythic. Such was the fear of such creatures that they were slain upon discovery. The process to affect the complete master of a being’s physical traits, personality and even memory was indeed a long and painful one. They often chose to slay their subjects to avoid inopportune confrontations and complication. Of a singular kind, Thul’s race was the only of the myriad of life forms native to the realm of madness that could exist outside of that place indefinitely.Ĭhangelings were hated for their sinister powers, and indeed many deserved such feelings. But unlike those abominations that carry the chaos gift akin to a disease or infection this was his birthright. There are beings native to this world commonly known as were-creatures that incompletely mimic this ability. His people carry the chaos gene with the ability to alter their form to match that of any humanoid they touch. ![]() He was of a race not of this plane, though they had been here since the Elves first strode the lands eons ago. Thul Thun, master of the most intimate secrets of the Empire was a changeling. Thul’s skills in these areas are second to none, but his abilities go beyond what practice, magic or mystic potions can provide. He need only observe a subject for a short time before he can absolutely copy their characteristics. As spymaster his ability to affect a myriad of moods, emotions and mannerisms is amazing. How he lost the pounds of a portly man so completely could not be explained by the removal of make-up or a suit of simulated fat. Everything from his black hair to his dark grey clothes is designed to draw as little attention as necessary. He has dropped the trappings of the fat merchant noble Secod Zard for that of a much more indistinct and lithe one. Thul Thun slips from the castle through one of the spider ways that lead from the seemingly impenetrable royal fortress at the center of Caelot, capital city of the Brixian Empire.
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