A Road Back to Profit

- Role play yet to be completed -

The dusty ledgers were . . .boring to say the least and I didn't have much hope of learning anything truly worthwhile when a strange boy wandered into the building. Later I learned he was seeking shelter from the rain, but until that point I was curious as to what such a lad would be doing here. He wore paupers clothes and they were heavily stained by every substance known to man, that included horse feces. That alone was surprising enough . . . but then I got a good look at his face and I was more startled still.



I now know that his mother was a nymph and that certainly explains it, his face seemed to almost have a celestial quality about it! But the fool trudged mud into the archives, not knowing what was expected of him in such a place he just . . . walked right in. The caretaker flew into a frenzy and actually it was quite amusing, almost like some mediocre play depicting the oppression of the poor. Still, the boy - still ignorant of his crime - grew angry himself but his self control seemed enough to contain that frustration and by the way he turned and walked out . . . it seemed he expected something just like this from the very beginning.



I chased him down though and convinced him he was only at fault due to his ignorance, but I almost wished I hadn't. Listen to the man speak was comparable to having nails driven in one's ears. His Avalonian is broken and half learned and he has no idea how to use some grammatical concepts, but I didn't hold it against him, the life of a pauper rarely leaves one available for such studies. When I finally learned that everything he had learned he had taught himself . . . that his mother was fickle and did little more than feed and play with him and that his father had abandoned him at a very early age, I was actually quite impressed. I hope I'll have a chance to fix some of these education flaws but at the moment, I'm just pleased to have some-kind of assistance.



This boy is a mercenary! Can you believe that? I've heard around town that he has the nickname: Pretty boy, angel but no-one dares bring it up, else they find themselves missing a tooth. Apparently he's a GOOD mercenary, for his training. Well, the beginnings of friendship are under-way and he's already coming around towards the idea of helping me. I hope our future contact will go this smoothly. I might be able to finally get down to some real trading soon.

An opportunity has arisen! It may not be the safest or most profitable but it'll do for now. I've an old friend in the local storage business, he's as strict as they come but he isn't a petty man. He's a man of high-justice and as far as he's concerned: my father payed his price. Which means I've met someone willing to do business with me and, as things might have it, he had just such and opportunity.

Being the local merchant guild's stock-master: my friend comes into contact with all kind of different merchandise and sometimes he's forced to confiscate some, for various reasons. Recently, some undisclosed merchant, was unable to pay for a recent shipment. A shipment of powdered citrus magically treated so it might last longer. Still, these perishable goods were going to waste and if the stock-master didn't sell it cheaply, to the original member who placed the order, he would be sitting on a pile of mold in a month, perhaps sooner under warehouse conditions. Luckily I had caught wind of this in time and I was happy to compromise, in return for a large discount I was able to prevent my friend from selling obscenely low to some hustler. Why the man ordered 25 kilograms of citrus? I doubt we'll ever really know.

Of course: I made my inquires before purchasing the citrus and setup a buyer. The problem was the top payer was a noble from Drakenfeld. That in itself is cause for suspicion and alarm, but despite Drakenfeld's 'no import' policy many rich nobles were known to send for luxury items in secret. Apparently, there had been some recent blight and most of the fruit crop had to be eradicated. Most of the Drakenites were celebrating that it wasn't worse! The grain and vegetable plantations were completely UN-affected, of course all the vegetables available had a severe lack of vitamin C. As result: An outbreak of scurvy is creeping in on the Drakenites. Some of the less fortunate have already succumb and this Noble, apparently, wanted nothing to do with the deficiency. So here I am, with a crate-load of citrus in one arm and a needy customer in the other. I can smell the profit!

During my trip, I may attempt to look around a little. The Drakenites are going to NEED some source of vitamin C and soon, if no-one ships in the supplies they might just become hostile through necessity (like always) and pillage some local fruit farms. Although humorous in the luxury of a high-backed chair, such a show of force is likely to get the Drakenites on the move, if they aren't incapacitated by the deficiency. Of course they'll need some convincing . . . everyone knows the governments first policy is and always has been: Take what you can, and don't bother to bargain. Hmm, this may prove more profitable than I was expecting.

*A small prologue can be seen etched in perfect handwriting before this chapter:* Alot has happened in the past few days although I still feel a great deal of emotion over my ordeal; it is my hope that I may be able to tell this story as it was meant to be told. A clean account from beginning to end with a few reflections and foresight thrown into the time-line. These interruptions are for my own benefit, I am still unsure as to HOW I feel about some of the events that have transpired and to those that follow these tales: my sincerest apologies if I must break due to some emotion. Please bear with my contemplations as we proceed, they might even be beneficial to you. Perhaps it will help you understand my own feelings. Now i shall begin. *



I was . . . happy, I think. Yes, it was right after I'd gotten news that my stock-master friend would sell to me. No, no it was the day after Andrew said he'd be happy to join me. In fact I planed on leaving in just a few days time, but now I'm not so sure.

It all started out on the quiet planes of Tintragel, that safest of safe havens where guards could be seen in any direction at any given moment. Today was slightly different, no-one was on the road and the soft sun-light made one lethargic but it wasn't too hot, it was perfect. That kind of perfect that drains even ambitious men of their prizes and bids them lay down and sleep atop one of the sun capped hills. I was very near accepting nature's welcoming invitation but I was off to see Grand-mother and once I'd reached the forest she'd be there. Then the lounging would commence just as I had imagined.

But it was not to be, the seductive peaceful haven was a facade and I was soon to trip upon a rather vile trap, a trap that would spin into a development that challenged Tintagel status as a: 'Safe Haven'. Ahh, forgive me for these foreshadows but if I had known what I did that day, I certainly wouldn't have been wandering the shallow hills without several mercenaries under my personal pay.

Here I saw strange blood red flames, pluming behind a hill just a small ways off the road. Being curious and thinking . . . goodness what was I thinking? Well, deciding to investigate this anomaly due to complacency grown in a perfect day, I found myself face to face with a fearsome sight. Several strange cloaked figures were gathered over the unconscious bodies of several watch knights. At that moment my senses flooded back into me and I crept away, silence and stealth are not virtues unbeknownst to me. But it mattered not, I was just too near and soon these robbed figures had spotted me, I was to be their next victim.

Within this place of darkness and sorrow, I found myself chained by ankle and wrist to the wall behind me. Blinded by a strange woven cloth, and senses almost over-come by the disgusting cesspool of human filth around me, I was still able to determine a few important perceptions. This place was humid and the scent of clay was in the air. Finally the air was stagnant, almost completely lifeless. They weren't just anywhere, they were underground. A beautiful situation this was, attempting to get myself killed quickly had done nothing, absolutely nothing. I was to be tortured and killed, slowly.

Here I met an interesting creature, a women I now consider a close friend and I know without her I wouldn't have survived this catastrophe. When all was the bleakest, and a prisoner had begun spewing nonsense about keeping ourselves alive for longer by complying with the cultists. Another voice flared up, a voice with deep passion and fighting spirit. This person I would come to know as Eko. She preached that we had rights, even as slaves and that we should fight our way out. Already I was doing my best to devise a plan that would bring us to just that kind of outcome, but things were looking bleak. Then an extraordinary thing happened, something that saved some of our lives and 'blessed' . . .

*from this point forwards the writing decreases into more and more unreadable cacography*

. . . quick deaths for the others. YES, the others died gloriously, like the men that fell down the fire pit and the man whom Sir. Stigam used as a meat shield . . .

*the contents after this portion return to their normal neatly printed letters.

It turned out the daemon I had seen on the hill above didn't have anything to do with the cult. So my sole presumption that it was a daemonic cult was flawed and still the thing turned out to be just so. I learned all this when a Cultist came down to join us in the stinking filth pit of a prison. He spoke to someone for a while and their conversation consisted of praising some daemon and apologizing for a high-council, insisting they should have never locked her up. This daemon was the passionate woman from before and, using his infatuation for her, she was able to obtain his keys, he so foolishly used to unlock her. And she set me free.

This women is my new friend and compatriot: Eko.