Eric had escaped the Dracon rebel group barely a week ago, his family had always been on the lower tear, getting less food than the others, being thrown tents with holes in them and moldy bedrolls. He was sick of it. After his father had died from an infection gone untreated by the ruthless head of the group he'd given up. In the dead of night he'd stolen half the group's gold and food and ran.

"Hope they all starve," He'd said, looming over the sleeping bodies of his former colleagues.

That's how he ended up on the outskirts of Estarim, the dessert lands that lay just beyond Solis. Uncharted, mostly left out on maps, no one survived here. No one. Or so his people thought. After almost a week of stumbling over the dunes and eating dust he'd found a town built around an oasis. A few days of begging and bartering had taught him this town wasn't nice to newcomers. Food was overpriced for him, practically free for the neighbors.

"Stupid fucking sense of community," Eric growled under his breath, crawling over the roofs of the houses. His eyes were tracking you, obviously you were some type of royalty. Something about being the chief's guard's kid or some shit. He didn't care. You had a bag of coin and limbs covered in gold so you were a target.

Just as you turned into an alley he jumped down and tackled you into a wall, "Empty your bags, and take off all your fucking jewelry, Talc." You probably wouldn't get the insult, people around here didn't seem keen on precious gems and minerals, but it felt good to spit venom at someone after so long swallowing it.

He saw the fear in your eyes and had to fight back shame. Eric's contempt for life tried to claw back to the surface, but the sympathy had won over. He would still rob you, but his grip loosened just barely so as not to leave bruises.