Author Topic: Walking Silently the Path of Religion (The History of Jake Munroe)  (Read 808 times)

LawfulJoe

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I wasn't always a religious man, working the streets, slight of hand, some minor political manipulations, the occasional con and of course some bold faced lies was the life I knew. I had coin, and a relatively cush lifestyle. Problem is, you will eventually cross the wrong person, and I did, and I got a belly full of steel for all my hard work. So I lay there, bleeding, dying, thinking, "If I could change what I had done in exchange for my survival, would I?".

It should have been a clean switch-a-roo, present the goods, then swap them for the fakes, and collect the coin. Did it at least 10 times before without a problem, and even chuckle at the clients who proudly display their "One-of-a-kind" artifact being none-the-wiser. This time it was a sword, the finest quality, a powerful enchantment and worth a fortune. Some adventurer, thought he was indestructible, Captain Farren, of the Red Blood Brigade, wanted a blade for slaying a dragon. Through my contacts I acquired one, he had his company wizard authenticate it and the price was levied, enough to live like a king for many years. While the Captain came up with the coin, I had a second blade made, identical to the original in all ways except enchantment. It would pass a magic detection, but it was for the most part, magical junk. The con was on, and I figured that by the time he realized the sword was fake, the dragon would be eating him for lunch. So the deal went down, and I walked away rich and the Captain arrogantly pleased with his purchase.

6 months passed, and life was good. Wine, women and luxury was my daily fair, until that fateful night, when my door burst in, and the horribly scarred and burned Captain came calling for pay back. The bastard had survived, and by the looks of it, barely. I don't like to think about that night much. It is a blur of blood and pain, the beating I received at the hands of the Captain and his men was brutal. It all ended with me impaled upon the blackened sword I had sold Captain Farren, who unceremoniously tossed me out the 3rd floor of my penthouse suite, to the hard alley below. So I lay there, bleeding and dying, like I mentioned before. All the wealth the life I had enjoyed ended, and I could only think to myself... "If I could change what I had done in exchange for my survival, would I?" Through the pain and blood, a smirk curled on to my lips, "Hell No!"

So I was going to die, but frankly, I did not want to. So, then and there, I made a deal with the only being I thought who would care, the patron of thieves, Mask. I prayed, and promised my loyalty to him, in return for my life, and what do you know, he agreed, I did not die.

While I healed, spending the majority of my fortune on clerics to mend my broken bones and make my body whole, I studied, and learned the ways and dogma of Mask and found that the god and I saw things on the same level. Mask taught that ownership was 9 tenths of what was right, and ownership is defined as possesion. That the world belonged to quick, the smooth-tongued and the light fingered. The greatest virtues were Stealth and wariness as are glibness and the skill to say one thing, but mean another. Strive to end each day with more wealth than you began it. These tenants of the Lord of Shadows sank in as deeply as the Captain's sword, but it healed me instead of hurt. I was a thief, like many, with the goal to rob the world blind, but with no direction or reason other than my own greed. Now, with a new look on life, my reason was clear, I did what I did, not for me, I did it to please my god, to please Mask.

First order of business, revenge. The Captain and his men had to die, badly. Assassins are not cheap, but effective, and now with my goal to please mask, wealth would come and go. I knew my combat skills were no match for the scarred veteran and his men, so I hired someone who's was. I wanted to watch, to see the deed done. One night on the docks, The Captain, drunk, limping and again telling the tale of his deception to the night and any who heard his drunken rant. About how his greatest victory was robbed from him by me, a fact that made me giddy inside. Sometimes a robbery of something valueable had no material substance. To have stolen that bastards crowning achievement from him simply made my night. But the icing on the cake was watching from the shadows, the blade cut the Captains throat from the unseen killer in wait for him. He died gurgling, pleading for his life. His men no where in sight, most likely dead in their bunks, as the job included their miserable lives as well. I was near copperless, but my vengeance was complete. Mask be blessed, I was there, to stand over the Captain, so he could see me, the thief of his renown, his pride, his glory, his coin and now his life. His eyes went wide when he saw me, recognized me, his bane, thought dead, alive and well. I smiled, nodded ever so slightly, and disappeared into thickening fog rolling in off the sea, leaving the dead Captain to the alley scum that would strip him of everything on his body before the moon could move another hours distance in the sky.

Now things became odd. This fog, like none I had ever seen grew thicker and denser, seeming to have a life of it's own. I knew the streets, but soon they felt different, softer, like walking along a dirt road instead of the worn cobble stones. As the fog thinned, I did not recognize where I was, it certainly was not the city, it was a forest, and in the distance I heard what sounded like Gypsy's, their drums and violins leading me forward like a lighthouse, leading a ship to shore. I remember feeling dizzy, and sick to my stomach. My only thought before I lost consciousness was, "As you will my lord" and then nothing. the next morning I awoke, feeling better, but obviously no where near Daggerford. It had to be the will of Mask that I was here, so first order of business... find out where "here" was.
« Last Edit: June 25, 2012, 02:43:19 AM by LawfulJoe »