In Service of the Moonmaiden

[epetrow]

“It’s little Alec . . .’ello little Alec” the Plague Rats jibed. How Alec hated the gang. Not only that they regularly beat the beggar boy when the found him as he wandered the streets of the Docks Ward that were his only home. He also hated them for the murders of his parents which made him the homeless guttersnipe since the age of eight.

“C’mere!! I got a sack full o’ gold for ye!’ the ruffian yelled after Alec as he ran out of the alley. He had learned early that the sack the Rat was shaking was filled with disease ridden filth that the gang members frequently flung at visitors to the Ward to distract them from their purses being slit. If the poor slob developed an infection from the exposure afterwards more the glory to Mother of all Plagues whom they served.

Alec’s parents Brock and Bella had been poor but honest folk who made their meager living from the Docks. His burly father from onloading crates from the cargo ships for local merchants and his mother for selling her baked goods on the streets from traffic of people in the ward during the day. It all went wrong when his mother got a job cooking in the soup kitchen. One night on her way home she was accosted by gang members objecting to her role in curbing the disease that the gang used to control the residents of the docks.

His father, hearing the commotion outside of their hovel, quickly came to his wife’s aid. Brock was a large man and frequently made extra coin as a brawler in the various tavern tournaments. He ran off the gang members, leaving one a bloody pulp in the alleyway. That was a dangerous precedent that the gang could ill afford to let stand. Alec came home for dinner one evening to find the examples the Plague Rats made of the bodies of his parents. The images haunt him to this day.

He spent then next two years of his life as a beggar in the docks stealing when he could being feed at the soup kitchen when he couldn’t and most of all running from the Rats when they were in the mood for a bit of fun. Today was different, usually they taunted him, kicked or punched him once or twice and let him run off. He had no coin for them to take and he was no certainly no threat. Today the three ruffians decided to chase him when he ran. Today he was not outpacing them until they lost interest, they gained on him.

“Little Alec” said the one that cut him off from the only escape from the alley. He knew the man . . .he did not know his name . . .he did not know any of their names. They had taunted and even chased him before but today was different . . . today there was blood in their eyes.
“Tired o’ chasing ye lad.” He said drawing his long knife from his belt and smiling an evil gap tooth grin.

“Time to cut ye and fill the wound with the Mistress’ blessing” he held up a bag of filth that they all carried. “Let the lady decide your fate.”

“That hardly seems fair and just of you Sir.” A voice said from the entrance of the alleyway. “Three armed men against one slip of a boy? The Morning Lord will not tolerate such.” The man appeared unarmed wearing only simple robes with the rising sun of Lathander on the sleeves.

“Bugger off. . this is Plague Rat business and none o’ yours!” One of the miscreants said waving his dagger threatening the newcomer.

“I am Ander Dune . . .Immaculate of the Sun Soul serving the Morninglord and I will give you one chance to flee and give up this folly before I take action.”

They came at him in a rush trusting in their numbers and weapons to overcome Ander. One of the delinquents decided to use their greatest weapon . . . the diseased pouch. Ander was fluidity in motion, he deftly knocked the bag aside with one hand spraying its muck harmless on the alley wall while using his other hand on the wrist of another attacker changing the angle of his attack to bury his knife in his own leg. He collapsed in the corner trying to staunch blood flow from his leg until a swift kick to the head knocked him out.

The third stabbed downward with his dagger seeking Ander’s neck only to drive it through the air that was once filled with the monk’s soft flesh. Off balance, the thug was helped by a shove in the back to crash headfirst into the wall and knocking himself senseless.

The thrower of the disease bag was now alone and decided to exercise the better part of valor and fled the alley.

Ander approached Alec and helped him up. “I trust you are unharmed son . . . the Bringer of the Dawn smiled on you this day as I just happened by when I saw you running. You see how you should use an opponent’s own attack against them? ”

Alec frowned as the monk helped him up “You done me no favors m’lord. They be back n I’ll pay the price for ya deeds. With Blood!!”
Ander raised his eyebrows in recognition of the truth of the matter. “Perhaps I have done you a disservice, come let us discuss this with your parents.”

Alec snorted “They paid when me da did wat ya just did. Rats did them so bad tha not a body in tha docks would take me in . . near two years ago. Doomed I am!!”

“Would you be willing to devote yourself to the Brotherhood? You are young as novices go but if I take you to the Spire, you will have food and shelter in the short term. I will also educate you and teach to read as I have an obligation to you given the circumstances. That way even if you do not take up the faith, you will at least have the skills to improve your station in life.”

Alec opened his eyes as he was sitting cross legged in his cell. Why had the memory of that day more than a decade ago come to him during his meditations he wondered. He had learned the history of Waterdeep and the Sword coast and how to read and comport himself as befits an educated man. Most importantly he dedicated himself to the Sun Soul and the Moonmaiden.