| Home | FRP Gaming | Plague Devastation |
Campaign Journal
Dramatis Personae
The Lies of Marolar Nightshade
Well awright, so you want to hear my tale. Buy me plenty of ale, read between the lines and then decide whether or not I made this whole thing up...
I was born in 707 TR, or that's what they say. I've lived in Shiran all my life. What can I say? I'm city scum. So what. Insult me too much about it and someone will find you cooling in an alleyway. I'm the result of the good times of some farmer and a common whore. My mom died in childbirth and my dad probably never knew. So be it. I probably would have hated him and his farm anyway. So anyway, I was raised by some old woman who claimed to be my aunt. Who was I to doubt her word, eh? Anyhow, the old bag turned out to be an independent fence for those who didn't want to deal with the Lia-Kavar for reasons their own. At an early age, I learned what it was like to live a life on the other side of the "law" or what the law was in Shiran. I guess I picked up my aunt's business sense, for later I became boss of the "Red Line," the drug business between the Hefosias and Shiran. Gemme another ale.
So, when I was about eight, my aunt got the receiving end of a Lia-Kavar hit, shutting her down permanently. I guess her time was up, heh, heh, heh. So I hit the streets. I began to steal stuff to get food. Evidently, the local gang of brats were getting plenty of whippings on my account, so they came looking for me. Well, they cornered me in a dead end alley, since I was entirely self taught and didn't know the town yet. So I brawled with the swineloving whelp who called himself "boss." He was getting me pretty good so I broke a clay pot over his head then cut his throat with a shard. Hah! They let me alone after that. Hey! I'm dry over here, gemme another. Hey pal, whachoo lookin' at? Yeah, that's what I thought...
So later on, after many small hits later I got caught by the guard without enough money to bribe my way out. So I was put in the stocks to be executed. However, a guy by the name of Matelin got me out of the sling because he said I has "talent." Says he to a guy who got caught by the crummiest city watch on Kethira. But I was to learn later that he was an apprentice to Sirith of the Scrolls, and was eager to have an apprentice of his own. So that's how I learned the way of light and air. I was also allowed to live in Matelin's study in Sirith's tower, one of the few who actually saw the inside. This all seems nice and all, but Matelin got caught by Sirith and I was to be killed immediately. But then, Sirith changed his mind and told me I was to work for him and help him "get rid" of some people, obviously opponents or enemies of his. So here I was, a thirteen year old assassin. Can you believe it? I mean, I didn't even have hardly any short and curlies yet. Whassa matta with you? I'm dry again. Why do I keep havin' ta remind you?
So I killed for a living, and my living got to be pretty good. I learned to read and write, I was off the streets and I met many really great people, Telvarin of Athul for one, and my best friend for life and death, Erithrian, cat burglar extraordinare, who I met on an expedition into the Kom to pay a visit to a mining camp. Eventually, we established ourselves in Shiran as efficient hit men and pickup artists and, more recently, ruthless businessmen with a knack for violent takeover bids. We met Khare on a business venture and he ended up paying us to go to the Isle of the Kingmaker to establish this lummox as king bandit. We then took him south to overthrow Menekai keep and establish him as a puppet ruler for Khare.
So there we were, in control of Menekai Keep. Me and Erithrian, we decided that it couldn't last so we robbed the treasury and left the grounds in a cart loaded down with stuff we took. We then returned to Shiran and bought a Noble's house from under his nose. We called it the "Purple Ribbon" and made it into a house of courtesans. It was fun while it lasted, too bad it didn't for very long. It seems that my old master, Sirith was at it again, and while Kronas was fighting Coranan, Sirith took control of Shiran Provence and turned my place into a barracks. So when Khare came to me and asked for help to kill him, naturally I said yes. I mean, think, who would doubt me as a skilled hatchet man when Sirith's death is on my resume?
So we snuck in and fought him, me and a few others on this plane and Erithrian and others on the border of the etherial, and no, don't ask me what that means 'cause you won't understand it. So at any rate, Sirith dies, but he took Erithrian with him. My bud for life is now sittin' next to whoever is in charge out there, trippin' out as high as the stars. Rest in riches old buddy. So I was kinda bummed and I started killing people for no reason other than sadness. I think I musta killed at least 25 people that week. That's their problem I guess. Anyhow, I was kinda messed up, and Trixx, my madam, bless her fine stack, told me to get my ass in gear and shape up. So I bought the house next door to the Purple Ribbon, and turned it into the Senator's Second Home, and burned down the broken remains of the Ribbon in tribute and a pyre to Erithrian. I had a granite block set up among the ashes bearing his name and tribute to Shiran's second greatest sneak.
So as I'm getting things together, this invitation comes from Skyler to be his chamberlain up in the Hefosias while he takes off. I think he was as surprised as I was to be king. So I took control and started up the mithril triangle of drug trade and smuggling from Shiran to Coranan to the Hefosias. Then Skyler comes back and says he wants me to go back to Coranan and take care of the Triangle from that end, as well as scope out potential enlistees for his mercenary force he and the elf are putting together. So there you go.
Now blow before I kill you.
|