Moruth the Beggar King
The wealthy can walk right past a beggar without even seeing him, and even if they stop to toss him money, they will not remember his face five minutes later. The beggar, however, remembers exactly who those people were, when they stopped by, what they were wearing, and where they went… which gives the beggar a certain amount of power.
Who can say what Moruth really looks like? Some paint him as a grotesque abomination, the sum of all the mortal defects found in humanity. In actuality, Moruth is a dirty filthy man dressed in rags, nearly indistinguishable from the rest of his sorry lot. He has long tangled black hair and a face smudged with filth. Beneath the grime, he has two sparkling black eyes that betray his vicious intelligence.
“What? The likes of you wants a story from me? Aye, I’ll tell a tale.
Do you know what a beggar is, you daft bint?
It’s them silent and forgotten huddled in corners, in the entryway of a shut-up shop.
You walk by, and you don’t just not see us; you go out your way to ignore us, and then to forget you ignored us!
Can you even fathom the boredom?
The utter, bone-breaking, cold-stabbing, toe-tingling boredom.
Horrific, unwatched, uncared for, inescapable boredom.
You dally about, pretend not to see the huddled girl with her pet dog and ragged shirt,
the old man with the tangled beard you couldn’t even spare a smile for!
You don’t know the bite of the cold as we do, you don’t know the hunger as we do!
You don’t even know the heat as us on the streets, your forgotten mass, the army the moves silent.
I am the Beggar King, whelp, and you will show me respect.
We shall no longer be ignored.”
— From the records of Sister Yvette