Medievia Mudslinger

June 24th, 2002

Reginald Scallion's Diary - By Rapscallion

I need to get a hold of my life. I need a plan of action.

My Double XP day resolutions!

I Will...

  1. Try and research the Create Beer spell. Again.
  2. Stop drinking when I'm happy instead of turning into a verse-spouting piece of gutter trash.
  3. Go trading to reduce extraordinarily large bar bill.
  4. Take a course in higher mathematics to work out how big that is.
  5. Try and find a girl willing to be seen in public with me.
I Will Not...
  1. Defraud new adventurers unless I'm sure that nobody is watching.
  2. Rob the Janitor's Benevolent Fund in broad daylight. Nighttime would suffice.
  3. Buy the delicatessen out of Yrani Roots in case they can be fermented easily.

Day of Justice
First day of the month of Futility, Year 538

Ale - Seventeen tankards. (v. good) Bar Bill - horrible. (v.bad) Pipes smoked - Forgotten (but lungs feel a bit bad). Weight - Too much. Equipment - Crumbling (v.bad)

Woken by Griselda sweeping under her tables. Mouth tastes like mildewed carpet and vision bleary. So far so good. Head feels as if an Imp is crawling around inside it - must return him to the Mudslinger offices later. Griselda points out that I've written the stuff above and told everyone about it. Night must have been v. good but I don't remember it.

"You're going to have to keep to it," Griselda tells me.

"I was drunk!" I protested, but it was in vain.

"You can break your word if you want," she tells me, "Nobody expects you to keep it." I wilt but she is relentless. "Unless you want to go back on the part about reducing the bar tab in which case I'll be cutting off your credit, and one or two other things.

I make haste to the sunlight and light my pipe. Only have some interesting lint in my pouch but figure why not.


Wake up and stop seeing floating stars Am curious as to whether or not someone can turn the sun's brightness down. Unlikely. I buy Mudslinger paper from scribe and notice I wrote a lot of it. I point this out to passers by but they just stare at me. I realize I left my clothes somewhere while unconscious.

I beat a janitor senseless and steal his money and repeat often. Eventually scrape together enough to buy a mule and a packet of raisins. I hope they're raisins. Quite a crowd turns up to see me off. Most of them are laughing.

After fifteen troll factions I give up. Munching on a muleburger the last troll was kind enough to let me have, I head the hundred yards back to the City of Medievia. Someone has set up a stall selling food and seems to be doing a brisk trade until I return. The crowds seem to melt away in disappointment. I really need to find more clothes.

Day of Honor Second day of the month of Futility, year 538

Alcohol - Enough to make me see double but lose count of tankards. 24 or 48? Either is possible. Pipes smoked - one of peace, two of war and one of "did you spill my pint?" Bruises painful. Equipment - hanging by a thread. Bar Bill - hanging over my head.


Wake in the horse trough. Griselda adds the cost of pumping fresh water into it to my tab. Some of the horses sneer at me - those morgans can be v.snooty at times. Make mental note not to ride one of them again if I can help it. At least I smell better which is v.good. Shall try out the resolution about women later.

Beat janitor senseless and get his gold. Repeat often. Another mule loaded with sugar this time. Wonder briefly if I could use it in brewing instead, but I see Griselda in the crowd watching me. They put out bunting this time. I set off and give up on the seventh kobold faction. Walk back munching on the mule kebab one of the kobolds was kind enough to let me have. Cannot be a local, I muse, as the crowd dissolves again. Optimist that I am, I reflect that if I'd managed to get more clothes then they'd be pierced through several times.


Compose "Ode to a Debt" that is received with great interest by Griselda. People give me drinks on the grounds that I cannot speak when swallowing. What little pride I had was injured, but quickly soothed by the next bottle of firebreather. Quickly realizing that I have no shame. Guards quickly assume that I am a vagrant when they pick me up from the gutter. Fined more than I am worth for declaiming with intent to wound. V.bad.

Day of Compassion Third day of the month of Futility, year 538

Alcohol - Saved a bottle of firebreather from a party, but accidentally got too close to a naked flame. Persuaded people to refresh my vocal cords. Pipes smoked - enough to make me cough often. Equipment - detted completely so it looks like new. Bar Bill - lurking and will probably meet me in a dark alley one night.

Wake in cells and thrown out on condition that I stop reciting impromptu verse. Some people have no taste, or so the guards tell me. I'm not sure they have it the right way around, but I am free again.

Beat janitor senseless and steal his loot. Sense of power feels v.good. Repeat until I can afford a mule and load it with coal. Someone's arranged for a dragon aerobatic display to entertain the crowds while I prepare myself. Slightly amused when a hunting dragon arrived and the aerobatic dragons all chased it away with their riders screaming. The children thought it was part of the display.


I set off again. Someone must have alerted the hells as I am beset by lots of demon lords in quick succession. V. messy. Monks give me a pass to get me to the head of the queue at the altar. Some sort of frequent user scheme they have going. Dogs offer me something from the mule but I don't fancy the look of it. They were sort of sniggering behind their paws and even I'm not that stupid.


Hungry - try to find those dogs in case it was actually edible. No luck. On reflection this may have been good luck, but I get odd stares as I walk around in the twilight shouting "Here Doggies". I need more clothes badly. And a reputation I can bring out in public.

Day of Sacrifice Fourth day of the month of Futility, year 538

Alcohol - nowhere near enough to be fun. Pipes smoked - twenty five. Am trying to substitute tobacco for food with reasonable success. V.smelly. Equipment - Someone cursed what I have left overnight. V.bad. Bar Bill - afraid to ask.


Griselda wakes me with a cunningly aimed blow. Limp out of the bar and immediately attract the attention of a guardsman who demands information. Looked v.bad until I breathed on him and he insisted that I go my way unnaccosted. Not sure if I should be happy or sad about this. Take advantage of early rising to beat more janitors senseless and steal from their benevolent fund.

Mule reluctant to come along with me. Just how bright are they? Resort to threats and eventually promise to find more clothes on the route (v.optimistic) to get it moving. Crowds not arrived by the time I set off.

Strangely enough I am unmolested and I make the trip to G'dangus in record time. Maybe there is something in this morning business after all. Sell freight for good money and buy some clothes, much to the relief of my mule. I can even afford a dragon and arrive back at the City of Medievia as the crowds were starting to look bored.


The crowds didn't cheer or even look happy but I wasn't complaining. V.good. I had enough in my pocket to make a dent in my bar bill and I head for Griselda's only to be mugged by vengeful janitors who take my gold and clothing.


Back to square one. Don't dare try out the romance resolution without finding more clothes.


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