Here's the start of Anselmo's story. Hopefully I'll have time to add to it over the coming weeks, but as I'm doing it from memory and have no logs I may leave out some things or get the names wrong or chronology wrong, apologies in advance. Hope you enjoy
PS I admit I stole the title from a James Hogg book, no need for anyone who knows the book to try and show me up...
A Sailor's Log,
or
Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner
(the contents of a journal, found stashed behind a stone near the corpse of Anselmo)
Entry 1
Gods curse Red Joe. Curse his swine crew and curse all pirate scums. Gods curse Polly Trix and his yapping rat tongue. Oh Polly, you'll wish you were never born by the time old Red Joe's through with you. May your screams echo through Athkatla for weeks, and curse your dead soul. And curse that dense fool Erik for getting me in this mess.
Left Athkatla today. Running off to save my life. Nowhere to go, so I just threw a stick in the air. Sharp end pointed north east. So that's where I'm headed. Broke in to a sprint and didn't stop 'til I were outside through the gate. Goodbye Athkatla. Goodbye Molly, Jess, Madge and all the other dirty slags, bless your souls. And goodbye the sea.
I lingered on the coast road for a good hour before I turned eastwards. Just looking offshore, out to the horizon. Last thing I see is this drowned corpse. His belly's all swollen and his flesh grey and slimy looking. Nose and fingers already nipped off by crabs. Aye, the crabs were all over the blighter's body, feasting away. Won't end up like that fool, at least.
Gods protect me from a sea death.
Entry 2
(a scribbled, artless sketch of a half naked lady with extremely large breasts adorns the top of this page)
Months have passed on the road. At first every place I settle in I see one of Red Joe's men or me old crew and I have to high tail it out. Then there's this quaint little town where I made a bob or two throwing dice. Nice place but I couldn't stay long, some sharp eyed cur spotted my method of fixing the dice rolls, and blabbed his mouth before I could stick him. Chased out with flaming brands, pitchforks and the like, but they didn't catch me, ha. Weeks of miserable living in the wilderness later I come across this little pishhole. Rivermoot. Lets play a game of plus and minus, Anselmo:
Plus: They'll never find me here
Minus: That's cause this place is a nothing, a shithole.
Minus: Lack of gold to be made. Hin cur pays pish.
Plus: None to be made, but some perhaps to be taken by one who knows where to look.
Minus: Not a whore in sight
Plus: (no words, just an angry squiggle through the word "plus")
Minus: Plenty of wenches but they're all stuck up
Plus: All the more sport to taunt them. Case in point: that icy bitch Sevaera.
Plus: All the eastward trade passes through here on its way to Silvymoon. On the road and in boats. Opportunity.
Plus: None too many guards, and the local militia are scared of mere kobolds.
Minus: Place is besieged by orcs, and worse. The undead.
Aye, I'll stay here for a bit... At the least I'll make a coin or two throwing dice. Red Joe'll never be looking for me in such a dump as this. And if there's an opportunity for something bigger, I'll take it, Mask help me, I'll take it.
Entry 3
Past few weeks just flew by. Still looking for a proper payday but I've been busy enough. I can sense a decent plan's just over the horizon, all I need do is wait...
Everyone's wandering the hills doing monkey work for that cheap hin in Rivermoot. I think, oh ho, here's a little moneyspinner to tide me over. Offer my services as a "guide" to help these numbskulls get their work done. In return for half their pay, I lend them my sword arm for a few hours. Course, what they don't realise is that the hin's already paying me to get the job done. So I hang back, while they collect their pay, take half off their hands, then an hour later, I get my own wages. Good day's work.
Thats been productive for more than just money making. Get to know folk too, and get to hear the news. Keep these in mind, Anselmo:
House Invincible
Represented in Rivermoot by the priest Rathalan. A boring cur, and stiff as a broom. Thinks of me, apparently as a mate. And so too does the other fool, blondy Lemuel. Ha! I'll be exploiting this mistake.
Banites
Not seen much of these but never stop hearing of them. Not welcome in these parts. Caught a glimpse of their leader, and though they're different as night and day, I reckon he must be from the same mould as Rathalan. Blind in the arrogance of their beliefs, which they follow without question. Still, though, dangerous. And not, I reckon, to be toyed with.
That lot
All them who risk their skins fighting monsters without the hope of a day's wage. Led, for some reason, by the girl Vellya. She's strong from what I gather, but she's a damn fool. Got her believing that my people back home caught and ate kraken for a living. Bloody dunce.
Speaking of her, other day she employed me along with a few others on a patrol. I was in the back, sneaking behind, making sure we weren't followed. This elf bloke Tathar up front, keeping an eye on the road and making sure we don't run in to an ambush. We got to High Hold, our destination, without incident. Still, all that walking wasn't worth the fifteen gold they paid me for it. So when the Argent legion bloke with the pay asked if he'd given everyone their gold, I speak up. Nay mate, not me I say. And guess who steps forward to back me up? That bloke Tathar. It almost works, too, for the legionairre spends a minute or two deliberating whether to hand me a second wage. In the end he twigs. Pity. But at least I've found a decent bloke, even if he is one of that lot. Oh aye, and he knows a couple good jokes too:
A banite priest and soldier are walking the countryside, collecting taxes from the locals. Priest sees a sheep with his head stuck through the railings of a fense. Walks up behind it, drops his trousers, and gives the poor beast hell for leather. Once he finishes, he steps away and hitches his breeches up again. Says to the soldier, "go now, and take what is due to you". And soldier steps forward, stands beside the sheep and bares his arse as he bends forward and sticks his head through the fence. Ha.
A Sailor's Log (strong language and violence)
-
psycho_leo
- Rust Monster
- Posts: 1162
- Joined: Tue Jan 17, 2006 2:10 am
- Location: Brazil
-
dergon darkhelm
- Fionn In Disguise
- Posts: 4258
- Joined: Fri Jul 08, 2005 1:21 pm
- Location: Cleveland, Ohio, United States
-
Mikayla
- Valsharess of ALFA
- Posts: 3707
- Joined: Sat Jan 03, 2004 5:37 pm
- Location: Qu'ellar Faen Tlabbar, Noble Room 7, Menzoberranzan, NorthUnderdark
Standing over Anselmo's corpse, Vellya regards the journal flipping through it. He thinks me a dunce does he? Well, fine.
Two months later ...
"A Sailor's Log,
or
Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner
Published by Red Knight Press.
10 GP a copy."
Hmmph.
J/K - thats GREAT. Most fun read I've had in a while.
Two months later ...
"A Sailor's Log,
or
Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner
Published by Red Knight Press.
10 GP a copy."
Hmmph.
J/K - thats GREAT. Most fun read I've had in a while.
ALFA1-NWN1: Sheyreiza Valakahsa
NWN2: Layla (aka Aliyah, Amira, Snake and others) and Vellya
NWN1-WD: Shein'n Valakasha
NWN2: Layla (aka Aliyah, Amira, Snake and others) and Vellya
NWN1-WD: Shein'n Valakasha
Entry 4
Gods I hate these well bred types.
Soon's I open my mouth round here I get a snide comment from some cur. Just on account of my accent. This prick, name of Kurt Davis or some such went so far as to question my parentage. He best hope he doesn't meet me on a dark night. Kurt, your name's in my book now, be wary.
Bastards think they're better than Anselmo, better than me because they've got schooling or 'cos they speak posh. Why should some fool live the good life just on account of being born in to it, while the rest of us scrabble about and work to provide him with his grand dinner? Well, ye rich scum, my name's Anselmo, and I can read and write, I can kill a man with bow or sword, I can pilot a 60 yarder in rough water at night, swim a mile in twenty minutes, and I'm here to take all your gold and cuckold you while I'm at it.
Entry 5
Things go swimmingly.
Couple weeks back I took a jaunt out to Silvymoon. Here's what happened;
Minding my own business in Rivermoot, when all of a sudden this legionairre stops me and asks all sorts of questions, demanding my name and such like. Next thing I know I'm getting pushed like cattle through the town gates, along with a whole gaggle of different sorts. They shut the gates on us and this stuck up looking Legion bloke with a funny hat turns up and tells us "Beware! We lock ye in here on account of a planned ORC ATTACK!". Says his name's Silverblade. Anyway, soon's he starts chatting about orcs every cur has to have his say. All the folk standing around babbling their opinions and not a jot getting done. Meanwhile the Banite priest's on the outside, banging his fist on the gate yelling "Let me in, let me in!". Bloody farce.
During all this I'm just hanging back, watching all the commotion with one eye on all the merchandise in the crates just outside the gate and a little smile on my face. This half elf fellow must see just what's on my mind. He walks up to me and starts talking about "salvaging" the goods outside in the event of an orc attack. I nod and look him over. Aye, this bloke might be alright, I think, even if he does seem a bit of a ponce. Says his name's Leore Sinn. He's got the right idea with his "salvage" operation, trouble is he's a cow. When I suggest we start a fire, yell out "ORCS" and "murder" and such like then take the goods in the confusion he backs down, muttering some lame excuses.
Anyway while we're discussing this, strange things have been happening. This orc appears out of nowhere, starts demanding ransom and the head of some Northman. Silverblade loses his nerve, the fool, and lashes out at the orc, but his sword just passes through him like he's made of thin air. The orc stands there laughing, then seeing that his gold isn't forthcoming he tells us all his orcs're coming to ransack the town and rape our womenfolk and whatnot. Then he disappears in to thin air.
Most folk keep babbling away like they're paid to talk, but this Leore bloke decides to get out of town while there's still one to leave. Reckon I may as well follow him and soon's the gates open we're off with this ranger type whose name I forget leading the way. Uneventful walk but I see a strange sight on the way - a river completely filled with red liquid like blood, and surrounded by odd colour rocks. Damn hocus pocus.
As for Silvymoon, soon's we made our arrival I had a look around. Looks promising. At first the place looks cleaner than clean, but didn't have to spend long hanging around the docks to see some shady characters. Course I just keep an eye on them for the time being and don't make my presence known. But all these threads are just starting to come together, and my plan starts to come clear...
Entry 6
The plan
Back in Rivermoot and feeling grand. For on the way back I confirmed with myself exactly what my motives are.
The town of Rivermoot. That's what I want. There's not a big crook in sight, not even a pimp. And all these goods coming through just waiting to be pilfered... And the place is just the right size for a bloke like me to get my hands on without excessive risk of hanging. There are risks. The coming orc invasion and these undead for a start. But I reckon, so long's there's still a town standing once these threats pass, in all the chaos and confusion the place'll be mine for the taking. And if I have a big hand in the town's defense I'll have the prestige to keep it. All I need's a small storehouse by the river and a crew to begin with. I'll make contact with the guild in Silvymoon to get the gold and men I need. Plus there are a couple lads and even some ladies I trust enough in town to use. And them I don't trust I can use anyway, so long's I don't let them know my intentions... Then as I get a hand in more and more trade, as I start pimping women and running protection for the other merchants, I'll have as much influence over the town as I need, and gold coming out of my ears. Then I can move on to greater things, maybe even move back out West and make a triumphant homecoming, sorting out Red Joe once and for all, the cur.
Course there are some problems. Plan depends on the Guild in Silvymoon agreeing to help me, and for that I'll need some sort of leverage. Something to prove my worth. And then there's the House Invincible, with that Helmite priest Rathalan. House Invincible bastards are a touch more dangerous than the impotent Argent Legion. And they always have their eyes open looking for other people's business to interfere in, curse them. Aye, I'll need some way to put them in their place...
Gods I hate these well bred types.
Soon's I open my mouth round here I get a snide comment from some cur. Just on account of my accent. This prick, name of Kurt Davis or some such went so far as to question my parentage. He best hope he doesn't meet me on a dark night. Kurt, your name's in my book now, be wary.
Bastards think they're better than Anselmo, better than me because they've got schooling or 'cos they speak posh. Why should some fool live the good life just on account of being born in to it, while the rest of us scrabble about and work to provide him with his grand dinner? Well, ye rich scum, my name's Anselmo, and I can read and write, I can kill a man with bow or sword, I can pilot a 60 yarder in rough water at night, swim a mile in twenty minutes, and I'm here to take all your gold and cuckold you while I'm at it.
Entry 5
Things go swimmingly.
Couple weeks back I took a jaunt out to Silvymoon. Here's what happened;
Minding my own business in Rivermoot, when all of a sudden this legionairre stops me and asks all sorts of questions, demanding my name and such like. Next thing I know I'm getting pushed like cattle through the town gates, along with a whole gaggle of different sorts. They shut the gates on us and this stuck up looking Legion bloke with a funny hat turns up and tells us "Beware! We lock ye in here on account of a planned ORC ATTACK!". Says his name's Silverblade. Anyway, soon's he starts chatting about orcs every cur has to have his say. All the folk standing around babbling their opinions and not a jot getting done. Meanwhile the Banite priest's on the outside, banging his fist on the gate yelling "Let me in, let me in!". Bloody farce.
During all this I'm just hanging back, watching all the commotion with one eye on all the merchandise in the crates just outside the gate and a little smile on my face. This half elf fellow must see just what's on my mind. He walks up to me and starts talking about "salvaging" the goods outside in the event of an orc attack. I nod and look him over. Aye, this bloke might be alright, I think, even if he does seem a bit of a ponce. Says his name's Leore Sinn. He's got the right idea with his "salvage" operation, trouble is he's a cow. When I suggest we start a fire, yell out "ORCS" and "murder" and such like then take the goods in the confusion he backs down, muttering some lame excuses.
Anyway while we're discussing this, strange things have been happening. This orc appears out of nowhere, starts demanding ransom and the head of some Northman. Silverblade loses his nerve, the fool, and lashes out at the orc, but his sword just passes through him like he's made of thin air. The orc stands there laughing, then seeing that his gold isn't forthcoming he tells us all his orcs're coming to ransack the town and rape our womenfolk and whatnot. Then he disappears in to thin air.
Most folk keep babbling away like they're paid to talk, but this Leore bloke decides to get out of town while there's still one to leave. Reckon I may as well follow him and soon's the gates open we're off with this ranger type whose name I forget leading the way. Uneventful walk but I see a strange sight on the way - a river completely filled with red liquid like blood, and surrounded by odd colour rocks. Damn hocus pocus.
As for Silvymoon, soon's we made our arrival I had a look around. Looks promising. At first the place looks cleaner than clean, but didn't have to spend long hanging around the docks to see some shady characters. Course I just keep an eye on them for the time being and don't make my presence known. But all these threads are just starting to come together, and my plan starts to come clear...
Entry 6
The plan
Back in Rivermoot and feeling grand. For on the way back I confirmed with myself exactly what my motives are.
The town of Rivermoot. That's what I want. There's not a big crook in sight, not even a pimp. And all these goods coming through just waiting to be pilfered... And the place is just the right size for a bloke like me to get my hands on without excessive risk of hanging. There are risks. The coming orc invasion and these undead for a start. But I reckon, so long's there's still a town standing once these threats pass, in all the chaos and confusion the place'll be mine for the taking. And if I have a big hand in the town's defense I'll have the prestige to keep it. All I need's a small storehouse by the river and a crew to begin with. I'll make contact with the guild in Silvymoon to get the gold and men I need. Plus there are a couple lads and even some ladies I trust enough in town to use. And them I don't trust I can use anyway, so long's I don't let them know my intentions... Then as I get a hand in more and more trade, as I start pimping women and running protection for the other merchants, I'll have as much influence over the town as I need, and gold coming out of my ears. Then I can move on to greater things, maybe even move back out West and make a triumphant homecoming, sorting out Red Joe once and for all, the cur.
Course there are some problems. Plan depends on the Guild in Silvymoon agreeing to help me, and for that I'll need some sort of leverage. Something to prove my worth. And then there's the House Invincible, with that Helmite priest Rathalan. House Invincible bastards are a touch more dangerous than the impotent Argent Legion. And they always have their eyes open looking for other people's business to interfere in, curse them. Aye, I'll need some way to put them in their place...
*wipes a tear from his eye*
Tis ... such poetry as would bring a tear to Mashan's eye.
Keep up the 'good' work!
-Bill
Tis ... such poetry as would bring a tear to Mashan's eye.
Keep up the 'good' work!
-Bill
- Currently NWN1 ALFA: Ryld Ky'bler
Currently NWN2: Gwindor Faelivrin, still not actually dead!
Formerly: Timyin Tim, Glorfindel Inglorion and Beleg Thalionestel amongst others.
Entry 7
What a laugh I had today.
I've been sauntering about in Rivermoot for the past week or two. What most folk think is that I'm continuing my work as a guide and sell sword, just as before. Even started to organise a group of blokes working under me providing escort away from the village on account of the troubles for folk too scared to stay. But more of that later.
But I've been keeping myself mighty busy aside from that nonsense. My first plan is to get myself a little cell to keep me abreast of all that goes on in Rivermoot while I'm away. Found just the sort to help me with that as well, this beggar. His name's unimportant, for anyone can recognise him merely by his stench.
Anyway, this beggar of mine strolls in to town two weeks back. Soon's he arrives he starts trying to scrounge from all present. Rathalan's there, but all the tight cur does is tell him to find a job. As for me, I'm the generous sort so I offer him a meal and a fine drink. Course, I let him know too that if he wants the meals to keep coming he should keep his eyes and ears open and report everything he notices to me. And of course I make sure to put the fear of god in to him too, with a few choice phrases and such like to let him know just what'll happen if he lets slip he's working for me. Note to self, Anselmo; have Devon and his brother test his loyalty. If he betrays me, bury him.
Back to the laugh I had. It was from this beggar fellow that I first learned of this particular farmer chap. I'd seen him around, but he seemed too much of a bumpkin for me to bother with. My beggar friend though, let me know he'd heard him consulting with the Banite priest. Apparently this farmer chap works for the priest. Not especially interesting news, but its always good to know who works for who and whatnot...
So, the next morning, I'm doing my rounds and there's this farmer bloke standing around chatting to the hin. I think to myself, "Alright Anselmo, time to make me a bit of gold." Wander over to him and its just as I thought, the fool's working for the hin. Apparently there's a bugbear over the water he wants rid of. So I offer my services, for my usual rate of half the bloke's wages. The idiot refuses, offers me ten gold and spouts some nonsense about how all he needs do is sneak up on the monster and he'll have done with him. Thing is this farmer doesnt look anything special, and I just know a beast like the one he's after will be the end of him. So I just shake my head and watch him go.
Soon's he's thirty metres ahead of me I sneak after him. I keep an eye on him as he paddles away, and once he's across the water I take a boat of my own, making sure its in the shade and being careful not to splash. As soon as he goes in to the monster's cave, I bring my boat ashore, and then I hang about near the entrance to the cave, just waiting and listening. I hear the sound of running footsteps, then this almighty cracking noise and a great bloody howl. Then all I hear is crunching, like some beast gnawing his way through rib bones, and I know the fool's dead.
I want his stuff, but unlike him I'm patient. I'd spotted Rathalan doing his rounds earlier so I row back across the water and find him. "Rathalan, Rathalan, come quick! There's been a terrible tragedy!" and all that shite. The bloke's got the wool pulled over his eyes and helps me recover the corpse. Even kills the monster for me, kind dullard that he is. And he lets me strip the corpse bare without so much as a word of protest. And mate, he was richer than any ordinary farmer. Hundreds of gold he had, hidden under his farmer's rags. And this strange Banite book that my beggar friend had seen the priest of Bane giving to him. Took his crossbow too, and thats a deadly little piece of works.
So the next day, who do I see but that Banite priest sitting outside the tavern in Rivermoot. No doubt wondering what became of his farmer knave. I wander up to him and I say, "I got something of yours mate." He acts all surprised, of course, seeing as he doesnt know me. And I just pull out this book of his and chuck it on the table. He acts all surprised, looking suspicious and all that, and starts to question me about where I got it. So I tell him, the bloke got eaten by a monster. All this time I'm just staring at him with this little smile on my face, answering whatever questions he puts to me. When he's done talking he just sits there looking bemused. So I ask him "What do you say, mate?" and he looks at me dead in the eye and says "Thank you." My smile widens, I've never had gratitude from a bloke for letting his lackey die. I manage to keep a straight face as I walk off but soon's I'm out of earshot I'm howling with laughter.
What a laugh I had today.
I've been sauntering about in Rivermoot for the past week or two. What most folk think is that I'm continuing my work as a guide and sell sword, just as before. Even started to organise a group of blokes working under me providing escort away from the village on account of the troubles for folk too scared to stay. But more of that later.
But I've been keeping myself mighty busy aside from that nonsense. My first plan is to get myself a little cell to keep me abreast of all that goes on in Rivermoot while I'm away. Found just the sort to help me with that as well, this beggar. His name's unimportant, for anyone can recognise him merely by his stench.
Anyway, this beggar of mine strolls in to town two weeks back. Soon's he arrives he starts trying to scrounge from all present. Rathalan's there, but all the tight cur does is tell him to find a job. As for me, I'm the generous sort so I offer him a meal and a fine drink. Course, I let him know too that if he wants the meals to keep coming he should keep his eyes and ears open and report everything he notices to me. And of course I make sure to put the fear of god in to him too, with a few choice phrases and such like to let him know just what'll happen if he lets slip he's working for me. Note to self, Anselmo; have Devon and his brother test his loyalty. If he betrays me, bury him.
Back to the laugh I had. It was from this beggar fellow that I first learned of this particular farmer chap. I'd seen him around, but he seemed too much of a bumpkin for me to bother with. My beggar friend though, let me know he'd heard him consulting with the Banite priest. Apparently this farmer chap works for the priest. Not especially interesting news, but its always good to know who works for who and whatnot...
So, the next morning, I'm doing my rounds and there's this farmer bloke standing around chatting to the hin. I think to myself, "Alright Anselmo, time to make me a bit of gold." Wander over to him and its just as I thought, the fool's working for the hin. Apparently there's a bugbear over the water he wants rid of. So I offer my services, for my usual rate of half the bloke's wages. The idiot refuses, offers me ten gold and spouts some nonsense about how all he needs do is sneak up on the monster and he'll have done with him. Thing is this farmer doesnt look anything special, and I just know a beast like the one he's after will be the end of him. So I just shake my head and watch him go.
Soon's he's thirty metres ahead of me I sneak after him. I keep an eye on him as he paddles away, and once he's across the water I take a boat of my own, making sure its in the shade and being careful not to splash. As soon as he goes in to the monster's cave, I bring my boat ashore, and then I hang about near the entrance to the cave, just waiting and listening. I hear the sound of running footsteps, then this almighty cracking noise and a great bloody howl. Then all I hear is crunching, like some beast gnawing his way through rib bones, and I know the fool's dead.
I want his stuff, but unlike him I'm patient. I'd spotted Rathalan doing his rounds earlier so I row back across the water and find him. "Rathalan, Rathalan, come quick! There's been a terrible tragedy!" and all that shite. The bloke's got the wool pulled over his eyes and helps me recover the corpse. Even kills the monster for me, kind dullard that he is. And he lets me strip the corpse bare without so much as a word of protest. And mate, he was richer than any ordinary farmer. Hundreds of gold he had, hidden under his farmer's rags. And this strange Banite book that my beggar friend had seen the priest of Bane giving to him. Took his crossbow too, and thats a deadly little piece of works.
So the next day, who do I see but that Banite priest sitting outside the tavern in Rivermoot. No doubt wondering what became of his farmer knave. I wander up to him and I say, "I got something of yours mate." He acts all surprised, of course, seeing as he doesnt know me. And I just pull out this book of his and chuck it on the table. He acts all surprised, looking suspicious and all that, and starts to question me about where I got it. So I tell him, the bloke got eaten by a monster. All this time I'm just staring at him with this little smile on my face, answering whatever questions he puts to me. When he's done talking he just sits there looking bemused. So I ask him "What do you say, mate?" and he looks at me dead in the eye and says "Thank you." My smile widens, I've never had gratitude from a bloke for letting his lackey die. I manage to keep a straight face as I walk off but soon's I'm out of earshot I'm howling with laughter.
Entry 8
When I told Tathar about my little jaunt with the banites he just burst out laughing. So now I'm in with that lot real tight like. This new crossbow of mine helps a bunch too, for I've been using it to slaughter munsters by the drove. Been getting a taste for killing the beasts, all the more as I know every one I kill puts my reputation up just a touch...
My reputation ain't all it could be, for I see some take offense at my demanding gold in exchange for my work. Some reckon people ought to work for the good of others with no thought for themselves. That doing so is the mark of a good person. If that's the case, why ain't their precious Lady of Silvymoon down here with all her gold and her men dealing with orcs and undead, instead of common sailors like Anselmo?
Despite the suspicions of some, though, folk trust me enough to keep me abreast of all the latest gossip. I'm always up to date on the orcs, and then there's this curious gem of knowledge that came to me the other day. Seems there's a Lich beneath the graveyard, not two miles from Rivermoot. A Lich! Soon's I hear about it I'm milling about the town causing a stir. I do it quiet like so noone will know its me spreading the news, but by the day's end the whole town's heard about the lich. Perfect, this'll help me get a few customers for the big trek I have planned to Silvymoon...
In the end though, I get only one paying customer. Some weakling gnome with a big mouth. Ought to give the cur a fat lip to go with it, and would have if he hadn't been giving me gold for my services. Apart from he, I've a good little gang walking with me - there's this darling little hin girl named Mimosa, some fine wench by the name of Kiara (though she be half mad by my reckoning), then we have that plonker Leore and, best of all, a priest of Mask! Lord be praised.
Oh aye, and while I admit I didn't get much gold out of this little venture, I got something far, far better. Remember our mate Rathalan Whitsword? Well, just before we left, he comes rushing up to me like he's got fire at his feet. Anselmo! He calls out. He's holding out this letter, and its sealed up with the mark of House Invincible. Deliver it to my commander, he tells me. Naturally I accept.
And I will deliver it for him. But first I'm going to do some other things with it. He never told me not to open it, did he? Nor to make copies of his signature and his seal? And he never said I couldn't do the same with the reply from his commander. Thanks Rathalan mate.
Trouble is, I ain't much of a forger, and this requires a delicate hand. So finding some folk who might be willing accomplices, that, I reckon, be a job for tomorrow...
When I told Tathar about my little jaunt with the banites he just burst out laughing. So now I'm in with that lot real tight like. This new crossbow of mine helps a bunch too, for I've been using it to slaughter munsters by the drove. Been getting a taste for killing the beasts, all the more as I know every one I kill puts my reputation up just a touch...
My reputation ain't all it could be, for I see some take offense at my demanding gold in exchange for my work. Some reckon people ought to work for the good of others with no thought for themselves. That doing so is the mark of a good person. If that's the case, why ain't their precious Lady of Silvymoon down here with all her gold and her men dealing with orcs and undead, instead of common sailors like Anselmo?
Despite the suspicions of some, though, folk trust me enough to keep me abreast of all the latest gossip. I'm always up to date on the orcs, and then there's this curious gem of knowledge that came to me the other day. Seems there's a Lich beneath the graveyard, not two miles from Rivermoot. A Lich! Soon's I hear about it I'm milling about the town causing a stir. I do it quiet like so noone will know its me spreading the news, but by the day's end the whole town's heard about the lich. Perfect, this'll help me get a few customers for the big trek I have planned to Silvymoon...
In the end though, I get only one paying customer. Some weakling gnome with a big mouth. Ought to give the cur a fat lip to go with it, and would have if he hadn't been giving me gold for my services. Apart from he, I've a good little gang walking with me - there's this darling little hin girl named Mimosa, some fine wench by the name of Kiara (though she be half mad by my reckoning), then we have that plonker Leore and, best of all, a priest of Mask! Lord be praised.
Oh aye, and while I admit I didn't get much gold out of this little venture, I got something far, far better. Remember our mate Rathalan Whitsword? Well, just before we left, he comes rushing up to me like he's got fire at his feet. Anselmo! He calls out. He's holding out this letter, and its sealed up with the mark of House Invincible. Deliver it to my commander, he tells me. Naturally I accept.
And I will deliver it for him. But first I'm going to do some other things with it. He never told me not to open it, did he? Nor to make copies of his signature and his seal? And he never said I couldn't do the same with the reply from his commander. Thanks Rathalan mate.
Trouble is, I ain't much of a forger, and this requires a delicate hand. So finding some folk who might be willing accomplices, that, I reckon, be a job for tomorrow...