Medievia Mudslinger

August 3, 2000

A Rogue's Journal, Entry 3 - By Thenlar Castir

Journal Entry, 2nd day of the Month of Summer Flame, year 536

Riverton is a wondrous place to live. The streets are paved with gems. The dwarves are generous people, and rich as well. This causes many of the merchants to charge rather high prices for their goods and services. However, this poses little problem to me. The money I garnered from the Labyrinth has enabled me to live a privileged life. I have tasted exotic foods like tiger meat, or even smoked Genesian banelar! Still, I wonder when the elves will discover where I am hiding...

Thenlar strides down Opal Alley, glancing from side to side. A small shop at the corner catches his eye. He stops in front of it and glances at the sign. 'A magic shop?' he muses. He pokes his head in the shop, and immediately his nose is assaulted by a mixture of strange and unpleasant smells.

The wizard behind the counter smiles kindly and says, "Yes, it does take a bit of time to get accustomed to the stench. I shall not prolong your suffering. What do you require?"

"A wand," replies Thenlar. "One that will assist an escape, but not by invisibility."

The wizard twirls his beard. "A wand? Hmm. Throwing a fireball might help you escape indirectly, but I do not quite believe that is what you meant. Perhaps this wand then?" He holds out a plain metal wand with a multi-colored tip. "This is a wand of prisms. It throws a color spray spell. This often blinds opponents, and incidentally causes some harm as well."

Thenlar smiles and nods agreeably. "That is perfect! What do I owe you?"

The wizard sighs. "I'm afraid this is not an easy wand to create. My price is 7,700 gold coins."

The half-elf's mouth drops open. "7,700!?" He splutters, incredulous.

The wizened wizard smiles wearily and replies, "You haven't much of a choice, do you?"

Thenlar sighs. "You are correct," he mutters. He reaches into his magical pocket and begins pulling out handfuls of coins. "100, 200, 300," he murmurs. Finally, he arrives at the named sum and takes the wand. The rogue sighs and feels his much-lightened pocket, then turns and steps through the doorway.

Thenlar stretches a bit and looks at the sun shining brightly in the sky. "I think I shall visit the park..." he murmurs. He turns the corner and walks to the end of the street. He passes by a large statue and into the park. He quietly walks through the span of the park, silently thinking. Suddenly, he is overcome by a sense of dread. Something is not right. The half-elf turns from side to side, looking for the unseen threat. He hears a rustling from the bush on his right and leaps aside, dodging a flying dagger. A camouflaged elf leaps out from the foliage, sword slashing.

Thenlar jumps backward to avoid a slash and draws his own sword. The elf sneers. "Careful, you might hurt yourself with that, half-breed," he says, spitting out the last word. Thenlar's face reddens and he feints forward. The elf parries the air. A black throwing knife follows, ripping through the elf's sword arm. The assassin grunts in pain and takes up his sword in his left hand. Then the elf unleashes a flurry of strikes. Thenlar stumbles backward, dodging and parrying. Suddenly, he trips over one of the many waterfowl present in the park. Annoyed, the goose pecks at him and then flutters away. The elf smiles ferally and lunges forward. Dazed, Thenlar cannot move fast enough to dodge and is stabbed through his leg. The wounded rogue grits his teeth and bites back a scream. The elven assassin pulls the sword out and slashes down. Thenlar twists aside and snaps his legs together in a scissor sweep, knocking the assassin on his back. The half-elf plunges his sword into the assassin's chest. Another dagger flies over his head. Cursing, Thenlar stumbles aside, clutching his freely bleeding leg. He ducks low and attempts to flee. However, his leg will not support him and he collapses to the ground. Another assassin slowly approaches, sword drawn. Thenlar clutches his leg, and his arm brushes something on his belt. The wand. Thenlar quickly grabs it and points it at the advancing elf. A stream of bright colors bursts from the wand and strikes the elf. He screams out and turns away, dropping his sword and clutching his eyes. Thenlar stands and lurches away.

I managed to escape from those two, but I cannot stay here any longer. I must leave Riverton and find another place to hide. However, I cannot risk summoning a dragon to my aid, for that would call attention, and a flying dragon is easily followed by another. I have heard of some mystical portals that allow travelers to journey to far places by moving through the Astral Plane. It seems these portals are present in the many clantowns that litter the landscape of Medievia. From my memories of the maps I have studied, I believe there is one clantown to the south of Riverton. A horse would assist in making my escape...

Thenlar yanks down on a rope, making a small bell above ring. A stableboy leads over a gray-colored mare. Thenlar flips the boy a coin and leaps up on the horse. He wheels it around and starts off at a gallop down the riding path.

A cloaked assassin waits at the southern exit to Riverton. The Greycaps, the elite guards of Riverton, ignore his presence and watch outward. As people pass through the gate, the assassin closely examines each, looking for his quarry. His head turns aside as he hears a galloping horse. The half-elf renegade sits astride a horse, madly charging down the street towards the gate. The assassin watches in anger as the crowd prevents him from moving to intercept. The Greycaps make a half-hearted attempt to stop the rogue, but he slips by easily. The assassin draws back his arm and throws a dagger after the fleeing figure. It strikes, but fails to penetrate the half-elf's sturdy gorgon armor.

Thenlar glances ahead and sees the object that struck him lying in the dirt. It is a well-crafted dagger with a blood rivulet. A green gem is set in the hilt and the rivulet itself is colored green. As the horse gallops by, Thenlar leans down as far as he can and snatches up the dagger. Upon closer inspection, he realizes this dagger is tipped with poison...

Journal Entry, 3rd day of the Month of Summer Flame, year 536

I never believed the elves would stoop to the use of poison. Or even the use of assassins, for that matter. However, since they have, I will. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. All is fair in war, and they have chosen to make war against me. As I examined this dagger more closely, I realized that it produces its own poison. This is a magical Dagger of Venom. The sun is rising higher in the sky, and I must proceed to the clantown with all haste...

Thenlar pulls together his equipment and stamps out his small campfire. Hastily, he untethers the mare and leaps on it, then urges it further southward.

Large, leafy deciduous trees block most of the light filtering down. Thenlar quietly sits upon the mare, reflecting upon past events. As the mare trods along, Thenlar suddenly notices that the birds and animals of the forest have gone silent. He slides his sword from his scabbard and glances to the sides. Seeing nothing, Thenlar urges the horse to a faster trot. The mare steps around a tree and Thenlar is suddenly confronted by a massive, horrendous snake with incredibly long fangs. The mare rears up in frantic terror and throws Thenlar to the decomposing vegetation below, then takes off at a wild charge into the woods. Thenlar rolls aside as the huge banelar snaps at him with its fangs. Thenlar comes up and throws a knife, which glances off the creature's scales. The banelar hisses and suddenly a bright ball of flame streaks towards the rogue and explodes, setting trees on fire and throwing the unfortunate half-elf against a thick oak. Thenlar lets out a gasp as air leaves his lungs and his burned, raw skin is scraped against the rough bark. The banelar slithers forward and lunges with its wicked fangs, biting deeply into Thenlar's midsection. The snake's poison flows into the wound and the banelar releases the ill half-elf, who slashes the banelar with his sword, opening a gash on its side. A bright multitude of colors leaps out at the rogue, slashing at his eyes and blinding him with the sheer brilliance of light and color. Screaming in pain, Thenlar stumbles away into the forest, smashing into trees and tripping over roots, the banelar pursuing in a blood-thirsty frenzy...

It took me some time, but I managed to elude the hungry beast. After some time, my vision returned and I was able to find a river where the banelar lost my trail. On the horizon, I can see the rising walls of the clantown. It should take me no more than a few hours to travel down this river there, but I fear the fire from the banelar's fireball may have alerted my foes to my location, and possibly even my destination. I can only hope the flames were not visible enough, or that I have enough of a head start...

Thenlar's boots crunch on the loose gravel of the road. Walls surround him, yet there is no town, only a large crack in the ground, the remnant of a once active volcano. Unhappy, he makes his way over to the crack. He peers in for a minute, then notices something odd. There are footprints in the aged volcanic dust. Hanging by his fingers, he drops into the large cavern. After his eyes adjust to the darkness, he examines his surroundings. This appears to be a normal dormant lava tube, but light seems to be flowing from the west. As Thenlar approaches the source of the light, understanding dawns on him. The town is built inside a dormant volcano. The crack was the entrance. As he nears it, he sees what appears to be some kind of nexus. Swirling mists fill the area, and a feeling of power crackles outward. A vague outline of a portal is present within the dark vapors. Smiling slightly, Thenlar approaches the portal, but stops short. A trio of slender figures steps out of the mist. The three elven assassins approach the half-elf, stone-faced, with weapons drawn. Grimacing, Thenlar holds his new dagger in his left hand, hidden, while his right wields his short sword. Cautiously, the three approach.

"For disobeying the commands of the Elven Council," says one.

"For the murders of two elves in Riverton," states the second.

"And for being a filthy, unscrupulous, and amoral half-breed," spits the last.

"You are sentenced to death, Thenlar Castir," finishes the first.

As the three rush forward to attack, Thenlar leaps forward and stabs at the center elf with his short sword. The assassin easily parries the attack and returns a swing, which Thenlar ducks beneath. The first elf slips aside to attack from behind. The third leaps into the melee. With a wicked grin, Thenlar slips his left hand out and plunges the dagger of Venom into the elf's chest. The elf turns an unhealthy shade of green and chokes. A searing pain rips across Thenlar's back, forcing him to become aware of the presence of a foe to the rear. Thenlar yanks his dagger from the dying elf and slashes it at the opponent before him. The elf leaps aside from the poisoned blade. Seeing his chance, Thenlar lunges forward. Not at the elf, but towards the portal. Letting loose a shout of frustration, the first elf chases after, but to no avail. The half-elf vanishes into the swirling mists...

Journal Entry, 4th day of the Month of Summer Flame, year 536

I am in a place unknown to me. When I was forced out of the swirling vapors, I stumbled from a shadowy portal onto a rock-strewn road. Across from me, there was a fortress, with three sturdy guards before it. A The road led down to a large city. After a few questions, I learned from the gate watchmen that this is the city of Trellor. I'd heard of this city before, but never visited. It seems to be very alike to the city of Medievia. As such, it should be easy to become just another member of the crowd...