Shard looked around the corner of the building, eyes wide with fright as sweat dripped down his body, soaking the loose garments he wore. A headband hung limp about his head, exposing the horns that so prominently adorned his forehead. Down the dusty street, a band of angry citizens kicked up a cloud of sand that spread like a great wave. Cringing, the tiefling pulled his head back around the corner and slipped deeper into the shadows of the alleyway.
If they found him here, he would be helpless, he thought to himself as he glanced around nervously. There was no escape from this alley, so he would have to trust in his ability to remain unseen. The crowd of angered city-goers sped past, knives and other sharp implements in hand; none the wiser of Shard’s hiding spot. With a sigh of relief, the young man adjusted his head wrappings and crept back into the street. Glancing about, he quietly made his way south towards the docks.
As he strode purposefully towards the waterfront, thoughts of the day haunted him. The boys of the road fighting him, pulling the turban from his head, and sending out the call to arms, all happening because he had taken a short-cut home. What was worse, one of the boys had recognized him from the orphanage. There was no choice in the matter, now. He couldn’t return there, nor risk being noticed on the docks. His only choice now was to escape the sprawling city of Calimshan and flee north.
His thoughts were interrupted as he found himself walking amongst the docks, sailors busying themselves with the tasks of the day. The scent of fish assailed his nostrils as he slipped between merchants and paupers alike who were plying their trade amongst the great boats. Already the rumors were thick in the air of a devil-boy found amongst the streets, bewitching children and consuming babies. He had expected such things, but never imagined them to be so blown out of proportion.
Eventually, he found his way to a ship that seemed ready to set sail. Clambering in through one of the windows on the vessel, he snuck into the hold and waited.
Days past until the vessel finally landed at its port and Shard snuck out the same way he had gotten in. Emaciated from lack of food and water, the boy somehow managed to find his way into the city proper where merchants hawked their wares and strange foreigners moved about with an aire of authority. Sneaking over to a fruit stand, the boy waited until the proprietor was busy with a customer before snatching up some of the fruit off the stand. Hurrying off, he never noticed the shadow that followed him as he went.
To run and live another day
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ZombieMans
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Tue Sep 22, 2009 11:00 pm
Re: To run and live another day
*These journal entries are made in a beaten leather bound journal that the Tiefling keeps hidden in his cloak. Both cloak and hood are on him at all times, and so the journal is never far from his reach. There are no descriptive markings on the cover, though the first page has written: “Shardak Mesos Thranos”*
Journal Entry 21:
I arrived in Baldurs Gate a few weeks ago now, and have been doing fairly well for myself since arriving. I’ve almost made up for what I lost in Neverwinter, which almost made up for what I lost in Amn. Coins not easy to come by, though, and slips through ones fingers quicker then water in the dessert if you’re not careful.
I’ve met a few interesting folk since I’ve been here, though their names slip through my mind almost as quickly as the coin does through my fingers. I know them by their faces, though… the large dark-skinned man who goes by the title of “Father”, or the lean elf with a speed as great as my own named Thyro. Or his friend, who barely speaks a lick of common. Then there’s Janda, the witch-woman who nearly got me killed in the mines of the cloakwood, or the few folk we picked up with us for that journey. All interesting folk, who are good enough company to hunt with.
And then there’s Alyssa. The second Tiefling I’ve ever run across, though far less experienced in the ways of the world then the first was. Seeing her struggle with her identity, the fear of others finding out, it reminds me of how I was with Greypawn. But unlike him, I’ll stay true to my promise to keep her secret safe. Hopefully she’ll do the same if the time comes. I’ll have to instill in her the same cautions that have kept me alive all this time.
I’ve also run into another of those damnable aaseymars. Why does there always seem to be one in ever city I visit? As long as I keep clear of her, though, and the other paladins of the area, I should be alright.
Well, back to work. Coin doesn’t make itself.
Journal Entry 21:
I arrived in Baldurs Gate a few weeks ago now, and have been doing fairly well for myself since arriving. I’ve almost made up for what I lost in Neverwinter, which almost made up for what I lost in Amn. Coins not easy to come by, though, and slips through ones fingers quicker then water in the dessert if you’re not careful.
I’ve met a few interesting folk since I’ve been here, though their names slip through my mind almost as quickly as the coin does through my fingers. I know them by their faces, though… the large dark-skinned man who goes by the title of “Father”, or the lean elf with a speed as great as my own named Thyro. Or his friend, who barely speaks a lick of common. Then there’s Janda, the witch-woman who nearly got me killed in the mines of the cloakwood, or the few folk we picked up with us for that journey. All interesting folk, who are good enough company to hunt with.
And then there’s Alyssa. The second Tiefling I’ve ever run across, though far less experienced in the ways of the world then the first was. Seeing her struggle with her identity, the fear of others finding out, it reminds me of how I was with Greypawn. But unlike him, I’ll stay true to my promise to keep her secret safe. Hopefully she’ll do the same if the time comes. I’ll have to instill in her the same cautions that have kept me alive all this time.
I’ve also run into another of those damnable aaseymars. Why does there always seem to be one in ever city I visit? As long as I keep clear of her, though, and the other paladins of the area, I should be alright.
Well, back to work. Coin doesn’t make itself.
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ZombieMans
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Tue Sep 22, 2009 11:00 pm
Re: To run and live another day
Journal Entry 27:
I find myself wandering these roads once more, making the trek back and forth between Baldurs Gate and Bereghost on an almost daily schedule. Dangerous as the road is, I find the challanges along it fair practice for my sword arm. More than that, the gold I make in each trip is well worth the journey.
I've been spending much of my coin on books these few days past. They pass the time at least, inbetween work. Perhapes I should get out more, seek out those few people I've met along the road, but to what end? When I leave this place, it'll just be a new crowd I come across anyway. At least I can take my books with me.
I find myself wandering these roads once more, making the trek back and forth between Baldurs Gate and Bereghost on an almost daily schedule. Dangerous as the road is, I find the challanges along it fair practice for my sword arm. More than that, the gold I make in each trip is well worth the journey.
I've been spending much of my coin on books these few days past. They pass the time at least, inbetween work. Perhapes I should get out more, seek out those few people I've met along the road, but to what end? When I leave this place, it'll just be a new crowd I come across anyway. At least I can take my books with me.
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ZombieMans
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Tue Sep 22, 2009 11:00 pm
Re: To run and live another day
Journal Entry 28:
I’ve met some interesting chaps in the past few days. A lass by the name of Oawa who is a self-styled merchant who sold me a rather nice little sword. Also, a bloke by the name of Beren who seems to have started some kind of self-styled guard service for the Trade-way, and a lich by the name of Sammaster.
I know, I know, that last one wasn’t much of a person I really had a chance to sit down and chat with… well, alright, we did chat for a bit, but there was no sitting involved. In fact, I don’t think I lowered my crossbow from him the entire time. And from what the other said, he was only the projection of a lich, and nary the real thing. You see, there was this rift in the chapel that the gnolls guard so jealously, and daemons and undead were pouring out of the thing. Apparently this Sammaster had something to do with it, and so the other folk there attempted to talk to him in order to determine what exactly he was up to. He kept going on about wanting us to ally with him and burn down the farmlands of Baldurs Gate. Needless to say, we dispersed the magic’s that held him there, and he vanished, leaving these curious stones behind. The lot of them called the things evil, but they look far too pretty for that. Plus, they seem… oddly familiar, so I figure I’ll hold onto the one I have. Maybe I’ll have it set into a ring as a sort of good-luck charm or some such, who knows?
I do need to find that Oawa again, though, and see if she has any more of that cloth for sale with all the runes of protection on it. I think it time I lost this burdensome chain shirt for something a bit lighter.
I’ve met some interesting chaps in the past few days. A lass by the name of Oawa who is a self-styled merchant who sold me a rather nice little sword. Also, a bloke by the name of Beren who seems to have started some kind of self-styled guard service for the Trade-way, and a lich by the name of Sammaster.
I know, I know, that last one wasn’t much of a person I really had a chance to sit down and chat with… well, alright, we did chat for a bit, but there was no sitting involved. In fact, I don’t think I lowered my crossbow from him the entire time. And from what the other said, he was only the projection of a lich, and nary the real thing. You see, there was this rift in the chapel that the gnolls guard so jealously, and daemons and undead were pouring out of the thing. Apparently this Sammaster had something to do with it, and so the other folk there attempted to talk to him in order to determine what exactly he was up to. He kept going on about wanting us to ally with him and burn down the farmlands of Baldurs Gate. Needless to say, we dispersed the magic’s that held him there, and he vanished, leaving these curious stones behind. The lot of them called the things evil, but they look far too pretty for that. Plus, they seem… oddly familiar, so I figure I’ll hold onto the one I have. Maybe I’ll have it set into a ring as a sort of good-luck charm or some such, who knows?
I do need to find that Oawa again, though, and see if she has any more of that cloth for sale with all the runes of protection on it. I think it time I lost this burdensome chain shirt for something a bit lighter.
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ZombieMans
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Tue Sep 22, 2009 11:00 pm
Re: To run and live another day
Journal Entry 29:
I feel sick to my stomach, ever since last night.
I suppose some background knowledge would be required to explain myself to you, journal. I was approached by some of the shadier people in the docks while I was visiting one of the more "elusive" merchants down that way. They wanted me to hire on as a caravan guard for a shipment of fine fabrics being taken to Beregost. I agreed, and promptly signed up for the trip. That was the easy part, though.
When the caravan finally arrived, we began the trek down the roads without any sort of issue. Wolves, gnolls, and ogre's were faced with nary any issue. When we got to just north of Beregost, a gang of goblins attacked us. I used the opportunity to sabatouge the wagon, causing a wheel to break off when we began moving again. The caravan leader sent a few of the men down to Beregost to get help, and I stayed with a few others. As soon as the men were out of sight, I cut the throats of the guards and knocked the caravan guard unconscious. Everything was going according to plan, until I looked in the back of the wagon.
Imagine my surprise to find blankets for the refugees from Nashkel. I couldn't begin to see why the thieves of Baldur's Gate would want anything to do with blankets bound for the destitute, but I had coin coming to me for the work. I gathered up the blankets in a few sacks and dragged them into the nearby woods. I dragged a body or two with me as well, and set the whole thing on fire when I was done. The caravan driver must have woken up while the wagon burned, because I could hear his screams as I lay in the forest. It didn't take long for the guards in Beregost and the other caravan guards to return when they heard those. They took the destruction to be the work of goblins, and carried the bodies back to town to be buried.
That wasn't the worst part, what makes me feel ill. I had to go into town to get a shovel, to bury the blankets so I could send the thieves back to pick it up. When I came into town, I saw some of the refugees receive the news about their shipment. Some of those children down there didn't have shoes, much less jackets. They were all thin as sticks, and shivering from the cold. I could tell many of them probably wouldn't make it through the next few weeks in the weather we've been having, not without something warm to wear. I doubt I'll ever be able to forget the face of that one girl, tears on her face. She must have been no older than six.
Well, at least I was paid well. That's some small comfort.
I feel sick to my stomach, ever since last night.
I suppose some background knowledge would be required to explain myself to you, journal. I was approached by some of the shadier people in the docks while I was visiting one of the more "elusive" merchants down that way. They wanted me to hire on as a caravan guard for a shipment of fine fabrics being taken to Beregost. I agreed, and promptly signed up for the trip. That was the easy part, though.
When the caravan finally arrived, we began the trek down the roads without any sort of issue. Wolves, gnolls, and ogre's were faced with nary any issue. When we got to just north of Beregost, a gang of goblins attacked us. I used the opportunity to sabatouge the wagon, causing a wheel to break off when we began moving again. The caravan leader sent a few of the men down to Beregost to get help, and I stayed with a few others. As soon as the men were out of sight, I cut the throats of the guards and knocked the caravan guard unconscious. Everything was going according to plan, until I looked in the back of the wagon.
Imagine my surprise to find blankets for the refugees from Nashkel. I couldn't begin to see why the thieves of Baldur's Gate would want anything to do with blankets bound for the destitute, but I had coin coming to me for the work. I gathered up the blankets in a few sacks and dragged them into the nearby woods. I dragged a body or two with me as well, and set the whole thing on fire when I was done. The caravan driver must have woken up while the wagon burned, because I could hear his screams as I lay in the forest. It didn't take long for the guards in Beregost and the other caravan guards to return when they heard those. They took the destruction to be the work of goblins, and carried the bodies back to town to be buried.
That wasn't the worst part, what makes me feel ill. I had to go into town to get a shovel, to bury the blankets so I could send the thieves back to pick it up. When I came into town, I saw some of the refugees receive the news about their shipment. Some of those children down there didn't have shoes, much less jackets. They were all thin as sticks, and shivering from the cold. I could tell many of them probably wouldn't make it through the next few weeks in the weather we've been having, not without something warm to wear. I doubt I'll ever be able to forget the face of that one girl, tears on her face. She must have been no older than six.
Well, at least I was paid well. That's some small comfort.