[Gwydion669]

Nightal 25, Year of the Harp (1355 DR)

Dear Mumsy,

I'm still having those bizarre dreams. I can't explain it, but they keep leaving me with a haunting feeling of vuja dey (while familiar, leaving the certain knowledge that it never happened before).

After waking up in the Polm jail again with Nickie last night (this time both of us wearing naught but leather loincloths and stag-antler helmets with no memory as to how that came to be), I decided that it was perhaps time to re-evaluate my life.

I wish to avoid the fate of the Faithless ... at least until I can claim divinity for my well-deserved self ....

Gargauth is a delight with his emphasis on corruption of those in power, but he just lacks that something ... special. Shar has recently placed more emphasis on the "darker delights" than even the clergy of Sharess would dare ... but she yet ignores a large segment of the hedonistic pleasures available.

After exhaustive research, I have decided to offer lip-service (*tee hee ... "lip-service"*) to Loviatar. Her parties (excuse me, "religious observances") are quite ... comprehensive ... in their indulgence of numerous "pleasures". And just downright entertaining!

Earlier this tenday, I attended a service of hers and found myself in the midst of what the priestesses called "religious rapture." After falling to the ground, I found myself babbling nonsense. A junior Mistress of Weights and Clamps dutifully recorded the nonsense I strangely spewed. She claims that her research revealed that I had spoken Mulhorandi. Her notes make no sense. The translation she gave me is as follows:

"At first I was afraid. I was petrified.
I kept thinking I could never live without you by my side.
But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong
and I grew strong and I learned how to get along.

The Blue Flames are deservedly extinguished. The future is no more and the present-past is in flux.

Don't cry for me Thayan Zulkirs. The truth is ... I never left you.
All through my wild days ... my mad existence ... I kept my promise. Don't keep your distance."

Somewhat catchy in some bizarre way ... but not making a lick of sense. When combined with some of my stranger dreams -- like the one where I'm shopping in some place called "Thaymart" and go up to the counter to purchase vials of poison from some cross-dressing snob ... and he simply asks me, "Would you like a wand of fire with that?"

Definitely odd. But it seems that that mysterious land in the far East is calling to me on some level.

I've heard rumors of a band of Thayan slavers working here in Impiltur. It is my intention to seek them out and see if we can come to some arrangement. I'll inform you in my next letter as to how the meeting went.

Your most loving and devoted son,

Maurice

*satisfied with his letter, Maurice approached the inn's oven (having no fireplace in his rented room) and crumpled up the letter before throwing it into the flames. Curling his lip at the smell of burning rat fat, he waited until the letter had turned to ash before leaving the kitchen*

[Gwydion669]

Hammer 1, Year of the Worm (1356 DR)

Dear Mumsy,

Well ... I did find those Thayan slavers. I think we started off on the wrong foot, however. Perhaps I shouldn't have laughed when I found out which low-coin-lass their leader fancied.

Don't get me wrong! Rossalyn is a wonderful (and quite bendy) girl! It's just that I'm fortunate enough to have that charm against disease!

One thing lead to another, but all's well that ends well. I'm now in Thay!

You wouldn't believe it, Mumsy. It's the beginning of Deepwinter, but there aren't any snowdrifts to be seen! I believe the land to be ripe for some sort of resort, but those plans will have to be left for the future.

I arrived in some place called Tyrantoes. Some odoriferous fellow insisted I take minor jobs because of some imagined debt, but I thought, "What the hades." Good gold was given for each Faerun-shaking mission, so there was no problem between us.

Then I made the mistake of being in the right place at the wrong time.

It seems some brigands made off with some golden platemail from the Temple of Waukeen. Everyone that was present at the time was taken to a dungeon to be questioned.

I must say, as far as dungeons go, it was much more impressive than the Polm jail ... but it was nothing when compared to the "playroom" at the temple of Loviatar.

But I digress! The armor was meant for some "Tharkion" to do ... something or another with. We -- the imprisoned -- were released to find the thieves and return the armor.

I did learn that being a lover rather than a fighter was not conducive to my health in this locale. After the motley crew recovered the armor, I immediately bought the lightest elven mail I could find and bought a large sword. How difficult can being a warrior be? The pointy end of the blade is supposed to go into the other fellow!

Pish! Those old, scarred drunks in the inns make it sound like it's so hard!

Well ... tomorrow the brigand which was captured is scheduled for execution. It's been a while since I've seen a good execution! Not since ... well ... YOU know.

Allow me to say once more, you made a lovely corpse. And your bustle seemed to be undisturbed so there was no possible hint of any impropriety.

Oh! And I've learned that the hin are not at all respected here! With the proper cultivation, they might make wonderful pats -- I mean -- allies. I guess only time will tell.


Taking your lessons to heart,

Your loving son,


Maurice.


*nodding after reading the letter one more time, Maurice slowly crumples up the letter before throwing it into the fire at the Red Trident*

[Gwydion669]

Hammer 16, Year of the Worm (1356 DR)


Dear Mumsy,

Well, it's been a long tenday and five! I've still managed to mostly avoid honest work (aside from the odd courier job and the like). I mostly despoil crypts, club to death and rob innocent goblins defending their territory ... and it seems I may have a future in slaving!

I did go to that execution a few days back. They actually had an amateur perform the deed! Can you believe it? I think the thief had to be hacked thrice before the screaming and twitching stopped! Such fun. Ahh, I so much find myself missing the skill of that charming half-orc who carried out such services in the center of Llorkh, however. Comfortable seating ... streetside vendors rushing drinks to you.

Ahh, those are good memories.

Afterwards, the executions were continued in a way that Queen-Regent Sambryl would NEVER approve. The thief's accomplices were killed by volunteering spectators in arena combats. Oh, my! I was practically shivering and tingling in excitement! I actually considered volunteering, myself, but I decided not to after hearing that those meant to be executed would not be given blunted weapons to fight with. Why ... they didn't even first remove the tongues of those skilled in the Power or the Art! Hardly fair for the volunteers!

Sigh. But it was still fun to watch.

I have also been studying the land and its people since my arrival. Mumsy, you would not BELIEVE the level of arrogance and discrimination here by the natives! Arrogant, self-serving, casually brutal ... normally traits I find quite endearing in men ... and women, and half-orcs, and gensai, and humanoids, and ... hrmm. I digress.

Here, it just tends to be just downright silly. Rather than having those grand qualities for something the individual has accomplished, he or she believes they have the right to do so merely because they are native to Thay.

Yes, mumsy, the very same Thayans who have attacked Rashemen and Aglarond ... how many times? Heh. Hmm. I just had an idea for a new tune. I'll have to get a bard to transcibe it. "It's Rah-sha-men, hallelujah ..."

Well, mumsy, I think I should prove that I have taken one of your many lessons to heart: Take the stupidity of the people and make it your own!

Or was that ... never mind.

Sheeple should be controlled with a subtle hand. The lash is a tool for pleasure and control, not oppression. Oppressors have the nasty habit of being killed in their sleep by those who are oppressed. Or those who actually "realize" they are oppressed.

I'll never forget that handsome paladin what's-his-name I traveled with for a short time outside of Polm. He could always be trusted to split loot evenly and he even trusted me to do the same! Can you believe it? I never took "too" much ... an overly-pruned plant will never grow, as the farmers say. And then he died for me by selflessly throwing himself in front of those three goblins who were charging me. Gods above and below, who couldn't appreciate a paladin? I hope to find another such idiot shield one day!

I'm still formulating my plans to take over Thay. I'm pretty sure that using their arrogance and bigotry against them will be key. From the odd rumors I've heard, I believe that the largest stumbling block will be a Zulkir spoken of only in frightened whispers ... some sassy necromancer named ... Tim.

Ahh, well. That's still a long way off. Till I next get the chance to write you


Your loving son,

Maurice


*Maurice opens the oven only to find the flames dead, his rat meat still uncooked. He slams his hand against it and shouts, "Work, damn you! Work!" Crumpling his letter and turning his back to the oven, he leaves to throw his missive into the fireplace of the main room*

[Gwydion669]

Hammer 16, Year of the Worm (1356 DR)


Dear Mumsy,

Yes, yes, I know that it is rare for me to write you so soon after the last letter, but I had completely forgotten to mention the people I've met!

Nickie is in Thay! No, not the one you like ... Nick Nightfall. It seems that he had been looking for me (something about 5 gold I "supposedly" owed him) and he ran into the same slavers I did! We traveled together for a bit, but I haven't seen him recently. He's likely in the backroom of some inn covered in his own vomit and other bodily fluids.

He still has the strange delusion of becoming a bard. Perhaps I'll let him transcribe the "Rah-sha-men" song. I'm sure it will be a hit for the first bard to perform it.

In the dungeons (No, I haven't been caught at anything recently. This is back from the "golden platemail" situation I've told you about.), I met a few interesting hin. The native responses to them are what convinced me to include the halflings in my Master Plan. They are short and sneaky ... you'd think the Thayans would realize that the next time you could use them to serve your own ends, they might just stab you in the back.

Well, perhaps not the back. They ARE rather short. But a dagger to the kidney is just as deadly.

A red haired tiefling was also there. Also a victim of discrimination, he seemed to be strangely loyal to "the system." Having some of the narrow-minded convictions of a paladin obviously leads to great loyalty. If I can convert him and other tieflings to follow me, they would prove a powerful part of my Master Plan.

Besides, he actually has a tail! No, mumsy, not a buttocks ... well, he does have one of those, too, naturally ... but a prehensile tail! Standing behind him, watching it, it's almost ... hypnotic.

Recently, I also met another individual who faces great discrimination in Thay. A tiny elf by the name of Eve. A strange child. Finding her oddities amusing, I decided to wait a bit before slapping some shackles on her. After seeing her use her handaxe on some ruffians, I'm glad that I waited! To remain safe, her capture would require some drugged drink or at least some time when she's naturally sleeping!

A young elven female of not horrid appearance and some competence ... probably 200 gold.

Strange eyes that add to the exotic factor ... maybe an extra 25 gold.

A wench who almost never speaks ... an extra 25 gold to the right buyer.

Having a rather boyish physique ... possibly up another 75 dependent upon the taste of the buyer.

Being a completely odd wench ... unfortunately would take off 50 or so. Sigh.

I find that I enjoy her company, though. She's like a fragile porcelain doll. You just want to tap at the cracked porcelain repeatedly to see how long it will take to shatter!

I kept her out of a spot of trouble the other day by claiming that she was my slave. I'll check to see if there is some sort of paperwork that would make it official. It would probably help her in Thay to carry a copy of such. If I can talk her into it, it would be quite amusing to actually legally make her my personal slave without her ever realizing it! With a little bit of manipulation, feelings of debt and gratitude are heavier shackles than steel will ever be. I think she would fill a useful role as a personal bodyguard or spy.

Well, I guess it's time for me to get back to that damn oven, mumsy. I swear the thing is cursed by Beshaba and has some dark sentience which hates me!

Toodles!


Your loving son,

Maurice

[Gwydion669]

Chess 14, Year of the Worm (1356 DR)


Dear Mumsy,

Well, it's been awhile, hasn't it? Don't worry, I'll try to catch you up as well as I can.

Firstly, it has been made definite. I'm surrounded by heathens!

I was at an inn called the Red Trident the other day. After a long day of trekking through sewers with Nickie (for some reason he's calling himself "Valo" now. He's probably hiding from an irate husband or wife), I decided that some relaxation was in order. I asked the serving wench if they had a fine Impilturan clairet (or "Claret" as many people insist on calling it *shudder*) and found myself handed a strange concoction called a "Clarity." A hideous drink, definitely overly-fermented.

I must admit, however, that it proved quite a fortifier when delving into crypts. Being the only alcoholic beverage on hand, I took a shot of it before facing one of those hideous mummy-children-thingees. It made the altercation MUCH easier!

I must hand it to the Thayans (despite their ATROCIOUS taste in wines), however. I never had much use for the little grass-goblins, but the Thayan's idea of just wrapping the little urchins up and burying them alive is a novel one.

Near the beginning of the month, there was a contest to acquire the patronage of some powerful individual represented by a Thayan Knight in a city called Eltabbar. The Knights serve the Red Wizards in this land. Most of the gifts seemed to be items of INCREDIBLE power looted by the other four people that showed up.

The items accepted by the others were probably worth thousands of Talons! Imagine my surprise when they accepted a simple jade ring I won from a far-traveling trader who bet on the wrong pit fighter! I was at the Weeping Slave when I met the strange little fellow. He said that he was from the Far East (isn't that where we are?) from some land named Caratoa or somesuch. It was a strange ring, too large for a finger. He told me the instructions were translated onto a piece of "rice paper" inside the ring box. The translation was terrible and I could make neither heads nor tails of it; I could only make out that it had something to do with "Tantric Magic," whatever that is. "Holds back Big Wave ... keeps heads clear ...." Really! Nonsensical, I say!

But the Knight seemed to like it. For the winning of a simple wager, I was given more gold than I have ever seen!

Well, it wasn't quite free. I did spend several hundred gold that night on the gaming tables and courtesans. There's this one simply called "The Mountain." Mumsy, you would absolutely LOVE him!! And the nymph was entertaining as well. The absolute depression in her eyes just made the encounter more ... poignant.

The Knight slipped up and I have a good idea who the "mysterious patron" might be. He also seemed disappointed at the turnout ... he called for another such presentation in one month's time. Perhaps I'll luck out and find something similar to that strange ring.

I'm still working upon my Master Plan and keeping an eye out for possible future minions. I met a cleric of Myrkull that was quite impressive, but I don't believe he could be convinced to follow me. Extremely dedicated to his church, he seemed ... incorruptible. If I could get his church on my side -- or at least sympathetic to my cause -- he could become a powerful ally.

There was also a young bow-woman. A ranger perhaps? She traveled in the sewers with Nickie and I for a bit, but disappeared while he was asking me if my order for a feather boa had yet to arrive at the clothiers (It hasn't.). I fear I wasn't paying proper attention. Nickie was likely rude and uncouth in her presence whilst I wasn't looking.

I also met a priestess of Ilmater named Ami. A definite do-gooder, that one! In the sewers, she wanted to speak to the goblins and explain our presence there! Can you imagine? We're adventurers! It's our JOB to invade the homes of humanoids, conk them over the head, and steal their gold! Really! But ... she had powerful blessings and healing spells, so we humored her. So far, I have her thoroughly confused. With a little bit of corruption here and there, she might one day become a good minion. Even if not, confusing her is quite entertaining!

Well, that's about it for now. I'm supposed to be getting ready to head for the local necropolis and find three magical bracers. Oh, the things I do to get my name known! I'm not going back into the lower levels of that death-trap alone, though. If I can't find a large, well-armed party to accompany me, I'll probably just BUY the blasted things and sprinkle graveyard dirt on them before delivery.

Till next time,

Your loving son,


Maurice

*Crumpling up the letter, Maurice cautiously moved over to the cooking oven. After staring at the oven door for a moment, he quickly snatched the door open ... only to find his boar meat still sitting there, uncooked, mocking him in its raw splendor. Maurice slumps to the ground and pounds his fist upon the floor. "Why? Why me, Gods? What did I ever do to you?"*