Korbin Personal Information
How in the hell did I end up here? Korbin thought to himself. He sat alone in the dark streets of the undercity. Goblin ruins had neither dwarven practicality nor elven grace. Even human designs had more intricacy. Still, in the gloom, there wasn’t much to see anyway. He could make out Aisling in the distance. She was a piece of work. Nasty as they come, but ruthlessly efficient. And she could find just about anyone. Korbin sensed deepseated power there, but wasn’t about to tell her about it. No, giving Aisling a tip that she could be even more deadly was a recipe for disaster. And then their was the assassin. Mitsayumi or whatever the hell her name was. Brash, young, arrogant.
He’d lived seven times longer than she had. He walked Eberron before her grandfather was born. How little she knew. How proud.
He wasn’t certain where the thought came from. He wasn’t certain, even, if it wasn’t a little jealously peeping its head in where it didn’t belong. Humans had a Khyber-load of ingenuity and stubbornness. They were impetuous and adaptable. There was a lot to admire in that. Still though, it didn’t stop them from screwing up all of Khorvaire with their petty wars. Korbin was over 100 years old when the Last War started. He chuckled silently. That’s humans for you. They have a measly 100 year war over broken country and when they finally quit fighting they have the audacity to call it “the Last War”. It’s as if the hostile drow of Xen’Drik, or the Dragons of Argonnessen or the Blood of Vol simply don’t exist. Or maybe they just aren’t worthy of going “to war” with.
Korbin smiled to himself.
They’ll learn… eventually.
The movement from up the street caught his eye. There he was… the mark… Korbin drew himself deeper into the shadows. The time to strike was almost upon them…