Tybalt
The Crippled Mage
I had made my bed behind a stack of crates in the Blue Boar
tavern. I awoke there late the next morning amidst the clatter of
plates and clanging of silverware. I peeked around the crates and
saw the tavernkeeper hard at work serving her customers and
firing the stove. As quietly as I could, I rolled up by bedroll
and looked for the easiest route to take out of the tavern. I
stood up and walked at a brisk pace toward the exit but a sharp
voice stabbed at me from behind.
"Who art thou?!" Obviously the tavernkeeper doesn't
like people sleeping in the corners of her establisment.
"Umm. *looks around* I...was supposed te be astart'n work
today. M'name is Tybalt."
"Thou lookest a bit young to be working here," she
says as her eyes survey the little welp standing before her.
"Well, why art thou still standing there?! Put on an apron
and get to work!"
"Aye, ma'am."
With that she whirls around and mumbles a few obscenities
before turning to smile at the customers by the bar. "Good
work is so hard to find these days!"
"It looks like ye might be arun'in out of water soon,
m'lady. I'll go and fetch ye some fresh," I say as I back
away.
"Be quick about it, can't thou see that we're bein run
over," she yells with her back turned.
Seeing my moment for escape, I made a mad dash for the exit...
__________________
I had been wandering through the forest east of Britain for
most of the morning. Mine search for valuables had produced
nothing more than the bloody remains of a few horrid beast and,
as a result, I was almost ready to return to the safety of town.
A bird flying overhead caught mine attention (I had not seen too
many birds as of late) and I followed it across the sky with my
eyes. That's when I saw it. Several plumes of smoke were visible
to the north; their long, grey fingers clawing into the cloudless
sky. My first thought was orcs but as I listened closely, mine
ears did pick up the faint sounds of screams. I broke out running
and as I got closer, the stench of burnt flesh tainted my every
breath. From the treeline, I spied a man, clad in armor, setting
a clearing on fire and a band of gypsies with it. Afterwards, he
just stood there as if he were waiting for the flames to die
down. I had to do something. I mean, I may be a rogue but I do
still value human life, I thought to myself.
I searched my backpack for anything. The only thing remotely
useful was a dye kit and a robe. How was I supposed to best a
magician with THAT?! In a spark of thought I dyed the robe the
color the healer's guild uses in Britain and slowly walked out of
the clearing. Carefully, patiently, and wondering why I'm doing
this, I walked right up to him and stopped a few steps past him
underneath a tree. From there I peeked into his backpack and saw
two bags. Luckily my actions didn't alert him. Taking the 50/50
chance, I peeked into one of the bags. Luck must have been with
me because I found the bag full of his reagents/runes, and I was
still unnoticed. Banking on remaining anonymous, I peeked into
the other bag and saw 943 gp and several gemstones. I quickly
thought of a plan to save the remaining gypsies and clean this
murderer of all his gold. I flexed my fingers and grabbed the bag
of reagents as quickly as I could.
"Guards! A thief," the man yells.
I walked out from under the tree still in my brown robes,
"The guards canna help ye here, lad."
I could see the rage building in his eyes, his brow furrowed
in anger. "YOU?! You're gonna die now!"
He tried to let loose his fiery magic but the spell fizzled
even before he finished waving his hands. I couldn't help but
grin.
"WTF! You got my regents," he screams.
"Aye, I do lad. I have ye runes too, and a might good
many of'em I might add." I started to squirm as he
unsheathed the viking sword and readied his shield. "Ye
might not want to do that laddy. Lord British might frown on
ye." 'Tis true my noteriety had not yet dropped below
neutral. I was pretty good about giving food away to the more
impoverished than I.
"You bastard! Givem back, now!"
"Aye, I'll return ye bag to ye but it's gonna cost ye. I
want all of the gold ye be acarry'in and the gems too," I
said as I stared him down. He walked towards me. 'Twas all I
could do to resist the urge to run.
"I'll give you 200 for the bag," he says as he drops
it into my hand.
"Nay, all or nothin," I say and turn around to walk
off.
"WAIT! OK OK Here take it," and sure enough he
handed me the 943 gp and the gems he was carrying.
I waited for him to finished placing the items to be exchanged
then I placed an idenitcal bag in his hand. This bag, however,
was filled with kindling I had been carving off the nearby tree
during the entire conversation. I ran as quickly as I could when
the trade had been completed. I glanced back to see him try to
cast another fire spell in my direction but somehow I knew he
wouldn't be successful. I heard his curses even as I walked
through the gates of Britain. Slowly, triumphantly, I headed to
the bank to deposit my newfound treasures.
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