I am Ladon, and I was given this name because my father wished me to have a strong and human sounding name, so that I may better fit in among them. I am known as the Witch because I delve into forbidden knowledge to increase my power.
I was born a Half-goblin because my parents were star-crossed lovers who met when my father's war party invaded goblin lands. He fell for my mother, smuggling her back home with him when his campaign ended.
I stand four feet and eleven inches tall with a thin and gangly body. I have long black hair and beady little green eyes that are quite mischievous. My sickly pale skin and grotesque appearance makes me repugnant even to other half-breeds, despite my eloquent speech. I often wear a dark robe and hooded cloak to hide my true nature.
I see myself as one who follows a path of magic and cunning. I want to become a powerful Witch-King by first starting as an apprentice to a more powerful mage, and eventually seeking my own power. I generally view alliances as useful only when mutually beneficial, and if they preserve my independence.
I intend to recruit desperate followers from the margins of society with promises of wealth and power, rallying a cult of blindly loyal peasants and beggars. My kingdom will rise from the gutters and I shall become the next Ruler of Kings. Any who aid me will be well rewarded, but know that betrayers will watch all that they love die before facing their own slow, painful end. Thus, I now start this path towards conquest.
When I first wandered into town, walking along the outskirts where I may gather some herbs for my potions, I noticed a rather well dressed fellow doing a poor job of following me unnoticed. His drab cloak doing little to conceal his fine clothes.
Armed with naught but the crude stone dagger I use for cutting herbs, I dared not fight him. I cautiously approached and bowed to the fellow, politely asking him why he spied upon me from the shadows. Ready to sprint should he prove hostile.
The fellow, a rather nervous and twitchy sort, bid me to lower my voice. He gestured that I should come nearer to speak with him. I approached, my curiosity drowning out any fear.
Once within whispering range, my stalker proved to be most cordial. He introduced himself as Drossel, and claimed to be a politician of great importance to the court. Apologizing for spying from afar, he confessed he was nearing retirement and saw in me the potential for a prot?g?.
I could not help but be suspicious. Despite their finery his clothing was worn, suggesting he was not as important as he claimed. Yet this stranger presented far to great an opportunity to pass up in my quest for domination, even if his aims may be some scheme to return himself to some lost title or wreak vengeance on a colleague.
I agreed to Drossel's proposal and we shook hands and headed off to the tavern to seal the deal with an ale. All the while internally calculating the risk, reminding myself to consider his every move carefully as I am certain he was doing the same.
I be the proud owner of a new wooden abode which I bought today fer a hefty price.