Redemption for a Goblin: Entry #1
********
My name is Skakan. I’m a goblin.
Looking back, it’s curious how my fate became entwined with the heroes of the Bloody Bridge. Curious, yet the meeting was fortuitous for me. You see, I first met the terrible foursome while I was plying my wares in the Rat Market deep in the bowels of Dorasharn Tower. A petty garbage merchant at the time, I had no idea of the wretched fate in store for me as the minion of this diabolic quartet.
Damn my gold-digging ways! The four had a scent about them—the sweet smell of silver. Oh, Curse the glint of money and may Onatar guide me to redemption from my weakness for coin.
Of the four, there was a Warforged, an Elf, a Human and a Kalashtar.
The Warforged cretin wielded a shield and a scimitar and introduced himself as Psilon.
The Elven fool was the get of House Thuranni, though a lesser scion based on the Dragonmark he bore. This elf I came to know as Balimere Malek d’Thuranni
Dragonmarked was the Human as well, yet his mark was of no guild house I knew. This enigmatic man was dubbed Anubus Ahligeri.
Kanaharath was the name of the Kalashtar Psion. Dressed in leather, he seemed the most earnest of the group, and thus, easiest to swindle.
Balimere, apparently the spokesman for the group, dangled their proposal in front my hooked nose. I don’t really recall what it was I agreed to; to be honest, all I could think about was the forty silvers in the pouch.
As it so happened, the group needed a guide into the depths of the Tower. After I overcame my lust for the blingbling, I realized that I actually had no idea where this so-called “E-213 Value Cluster” was, but they didn’t have to know my ignorance!
So I packed up my wares into a mildew-ridden blanket and proceeded down the nearest exit from the Rat Market. I noticed a grubby Shifter giving us the evil eye on way out, but I thought nothing of it at the time.
I decided the best course was to head down into the sewers and wander around a bit. I thought maybe the fools would let their guard down and I could make off with the promised loot. Besides, this looked like a rough and tumble sort of crew, I doubted they earned the money they used to buy their shiny new spelunking gear.
Over many hours, I lead them down the tunnels into the depths of Dorasharn Tower and I learned from the group how they had come to undertake this mission.
********
Balimere and Anubus were drunk on the nectar of House Thuranni that day.
One could say that the group had just left a gala held by the traitorous house of spies. One could also say that the four had crashed the feast on some information glib-tongued Balimere gleaned from a well-born cousin.
Nevertheless, the result was the same. Balimere and company feasted at the table of House Thuranni. Many cups were poured in the name of Ollandra, God of Feasts, and no man’s hunger was lacking, nor was any man’s thirst denied.
However, when the feast drew to a close, it was the wise mentalist, Kanaharath, whom advised Balimere, drunk with wine, that they were drawing nasty looks from the upper ranks of the house and that it would be a good time to leave.
Balimere agreed, and the crew made their exit into the heavy rain of a Rhaan night in Sharn.
Psilon and Kanaharath kept an eye out for trouble, but they little suspected any mischief in this fashionable upper district. Oh, How they came to lament their naiveté!
As the crew approached the arching skybridge between Dalannon Tower and Kelsa Spire, lightening parted the evening and the group saw a peculiar sight. A cloaked figure seemed bent on mischief over a recumbent form on the skybridge ahead. Yet, as the group approached, the figure dashed over the railing of the bridge and appeared to make off into the night.
While fleet Anubus ran to the edge of the railing to determine the whereabouts of the cloaked assailant, Balimere quickly rifled the obviously dead body lying in a puddle of its own ichors. Meanwhile Psilon, the ever viligent, stood on guard and adroit Kanaharath slipped off to the side trying to be inconspicuous.
Just when Balimere, robber of corpses, had discovered a satchel clutched in the man’s death grip, Anubus cried out a warning to the others as Cutter, the Warforged Barbarian, leaped over the opposite rail of the bridge and tried to swat down the Human Ranger from behind. As Cutter swung her Battleaxe, she scoffed at nearby Psilon, the stoic Warforged, “Race-traitor! All weak-fleshed must die!”
However, Anubus, the ever-artful dodger, ducked the she-forged’s lame hack and reciprocated with a crushing swing of his two-handed greatsword. Oh, How like Dol Dorn, the mighty God of Strength at Arms, was the fell-marked Human’s blow!
However, Cutter was not yet ready to send her Final Message. Calling on her barbarian rage, the Warforged fury growled at Psilon, “I shall show you the weakness of these flesh-bags!” Then, she thrust at the doomed Anubus, born to die, but he was not prophesized to meet his end on this day.
Kanaharath’s Mindthrust did little to faze the enraged barbarian. It was the keen lunge of Balimere’s honed rapier that parted Cutter’s Final Message from the metal shell of her flesh. Quickly, Balimere stripped her gear, while vigilant Kanaharath, sensing the approach of the City Watch, faded into the night.
When Sgt. Dolom, stern dwarf leader of the watch, arrived with his cohort, there was much equivocating and obfuscation by serpent-tongued Balimere. Anubus, no glib-tongued courtesan, sneered at the earnest dwarf and might have doomed the crew to a night in the local jail, had not wise Kanaharath chimed in, claiming that he was an innocent bystander and that the unlikely heroes had slew the fierce barbarian in self-defense after being attacked themselves.
The wary dwarf sergeant accepted the story, but warned the group, “I’ll be watching you!”
Tired, the battle-weary group retired to their offices further down in the darker reaches of Sharn, City of Towers.
While pondering the mystery of the blank-paged journal looted from the corpse of the man on the bridge, a visitor knocked on the oaken door of the group’s retreat.
Taciturn Psilon spoke quietly with the dark-cloaked visitor and reported to the group that an interested party wished them to visit the Broken Anvil Inn to discuss the events at the Bloody Bridge.
The loot-hungry group agreed to seek out this patron, rich in gifts.
********
Ten Years have passed since that day.
The Fools! How much woe befell the battle-seeking crew and I in the years to come?
Oh, How the Devourer joyed at the water-bourn destruction looming in the depths!
Oh, How the Keeper rejoiced at the dark death set in motion that day!
And the Fury cried havoc with me. And the Traveler bore me far from my deep home. And the Shadow drove me into darkness.
But it was the Mockery whom delighted most in the manner I was drawn into the wretched crew’s dark deeds.
Yet, Onatar, God of Artifice and Forge, came into my life as well. For as I have learned in the time since that day, with great strife there comes opportunity.
Even in the midst of evil men, there can be redemption for a goblin.
Skakan the Penniless
Prelate of Onatar
Rhaan 21, 1008 YK
********
My name is Skakan. I’m a goblin.
Looking back, it’s curious how my fate became entwined with the heroes of the Bloody Bridge. Curious, yet the meeting was fortuitous for me. You see, I first met the terrible foursome while I was plying my wares in the Rat Market deep in the bowels of Dorasharn Tower. A petty garbage merchant at the time, I had no idea of the wretched fate in store for me as the minion of this diabolic quartet.
Damn my gold-digging ways! The four had a scent about them—the sweet smell of silver. Oh, Curse the glint of money and may Onatar guide me to redemption from my weakness for coin.
Of the four, there was a Warforged, an Elf, a Human and a Kalashtar.
The Warforged cretin wielded a shield and a scimitar and introduced himself as Psilon.
The Elven fool was the get of House Thuranni, though a lesser scion based on the Dragonmark he bore. This elf I came to know as Balimere Malek d’Thuranni
Dragonmarked was the Human as well, yet his mark was of no guild house I knew. This enigmatic man was dubbed Anubus Ahligeri.
Kanaharath was the name of the Kalashtar Psion. Dressed in leather, he seemed the most earnest of the group, and thus, easiest to swindle.
Balimere, apparently the spokesman for the group, dangled their proposal in front my hooked nose. I don’t really recall what it was I agreed to; to be honest, all I could think about was the forty silvers in the pouch.
As it so happened, the group needed a guide into the depths of the Tower. After I overcame my lust for the blingbling, I realized that I actually had no idea where this so-called “E-213 Value Cluster” was, but they didn’t have to know my ignorance!
So I packed up my wares into a mildew-ridden blanket and proceeded down the nearest exit from the Rat Market. I noticed a grubby Shifter giving us the evil eye on way out, but I thought nothing of it at the time.
I decided the best course was to head down into the sewers and wander around a bit. I thought maybe the fools would let their guard down and I could make off with the promised loot. Besides, this looked like a rough and tumble sort of crew, I doubted they earned the money they used to buy their shiny new spelunking gear.
Over many hours, I lead them down the tunnels into the depths of Dorasharn Tower and I learned from the group how they had come to undertake this mission.
********
Balimere and Anubus were drunk on the nectar of House Thuranni that day.
One could say that the group had just left a gala held by the traitorous house of spies. One could also say that the four had crashed the feast on some information glib-tongued Balimere gleaned from a well-born cousin.
Nevertheless, the result was the same. Balimere and company feasted at the table of House Thuranni. Many cups were poured in the name of Ollandra, God of Feasts, and no man’s hunger was lacking, nor was any man’s thirst denied.
However, when the feast drew to a close, it was the wise mentalist, Kanaharath, whom advised Balimere, drunk with wine, that they were drawing nasty looks from the upper ranks of the house and that it would be a good time to leave.
Balimere agreed, and the crew made their exit into the heavy rain of a Rhaan night in Sharn.
Psilon and Kanaharath kept an eye out for trouble, but they little suspected any mischief in this fashionable upper district. Oh, How they came to lament their naiveté!
As the crew approached the arching skybridge between Dalannon Tower and Kelsa Spire, lightening parted the evening and the group saw a peculiar sight. A cloaked figure seemed bent on mischief over a recumbent form on the skybridge ahead. Yet, as the group approached, the figure dashed over the railing of the bridge and appeared to make off into the night.
While fleet Anubus ran to the edge of the railing to determine the whereabouts of the cloaked assailant, Balimere quickly rifled the obviously dead body lying in a puddle of its own ichors. Meanwhile Psilon, the ever viligent, stood on guard and adroit Kanaharath slipped off to the side trying to be inconspicuous.
Just when Balimere, robber of corpses, had discovered a satchel clutched in the man’s death grip, Anubus cried out a warning to the others as Cutter, the Warforged Barbarian, leaped over the opposite rail of the bridge and tried to swat down the Human Ranger from behind. As Cutter swung her Battleaxe, she scoffed at nearby Psilon, the stoic Warforged, “Race-traitor! All weak-fleshed must die!”
However, Anubus, the ever-artful dodger, ducked the she-forged’s lame hack and reciprocated with a crushing swing of his two-handed greatsword. Oh, How like Dol Dorn, the mighty God of Strength at Arms, was the fell-marked Human’s blow!
However, Cutter was not yet ready to send her Final Message. Calling on her barbarian rage, the Warforged fury growled at Psilon, “I shall show you the weakness of these flesh-bags!” Then, she thrust at the doomed Anubus, born to die, but he was not prophesized to meet his end on this day.
Kanaharath’s Mindthrust did little to faze the enraged barbarian. It was the keen lunge of Balimere’s honed rapier that parted Cutter’s Final Message from the metal shell of her flesh. Quickly, Balimere stripped her gear, while vigilant Kanaharath, sensing the approach of the City Watch, faded into the night.
When Sgt. Dolom, stern dwarf leader of the watch, arrived with his cohort, there was much equivocating and obfuscation by serpent-tongued Balimere. Anubus, no glib-tongued courtesan, sneered at the earnest dwarf and might have doomed the crew to a night in the local jail, had not wise Kanaharath chimed in, claiming that he was an innocent bystander and that the unlikely heroes had slew the fierce barbarian in self-defense after being attacked themselves.
The wary dwarf sergeant accepted the story, but warned the group, “I’ll be watching you!”
Tired, the battle-weary group retired to their offices further down in the darker reaches of Sharn, City of Towers.
While pondering the mystery of the blank-paged journal looted from the corpse of the man on the bridge, a visitor knocked on the oaken door of the group’s retreat.
Taciturn Psilon spoke quietly with the dark-cloaked visitor and reported to the group that an interested party wished them to visit the Broken Anvil Inn to discuss the events at the Bloody Bridge.
The loot-hungry group agreed to seek out this patron, rich in gifts.
********
Ten Years have passed since that day.
The Fools! How much woe befell the battle-seeking crew and I in the years to come?
Oh, How the Devourer joyed at the water-bourn destruction looming in the depths!
Oh, How the Keeper rejoiced at the dark death set in motion that day!
And the Fury cried havoc with me. And the Traveler bore me far from my deep home. And the Shadow drove me into darkness.
But it was the Mockery whom delighted most in the manner I was drawn into the wretched crew’s dark deeds.
Yet, Onatar, God of Artifice and Forge, came into my life as well. For as I have learned in the time since that day, with great strife there comes opportunity.
Even in the midst of evil men, there can be redemption for a goblin.
Skakan the Penniless
Prelate of Onatar
Rhaan 21, 1008 YK
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