Findecano's Beggar's Adventure

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Luth
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Findecano's Beggar's Adventure

Post by Luth » Tue Feb 13, 2018 10:39 am

6 years prior to the events of today...

A somewhat built but famished and ragged individual comes out of a ship arriving from Neverwinter to Cordor. Looks nervously around, as if he feared the very heavens would strike him down via thunderous rage... No, this wasn't the look and vision of someone arriving to Arelith willingly;

He didn't know where he was. Doesn't remember anything from yesterday. His face indicates that he has either awakened from a long night of hangover, or he was drugged and tossed into any ship. And considering hi lack of coin, it was probably the second.

"A-At least this t-town seems... Peaceful?" Muttered the shaking man. Under the advice of the first individual he finds and talks to, the man by the name of Findecano undergoes chores for the Speedy Runners. Although not as fast as the hins, he gets the work done; After all, if this man was sure of anything at all, it's of his ability to do simple chores prone to failing for the minimum wage.

Cordor exploration. The next frontier. "Curse them thrice-damned rats!" Fin hears on another side of the port as he walks by the locale known as the Clover. Curiosity gets the best of him, and although he has learnt through years of poverty to stay away from rage-filled yelling, he heads at the pace of a turtle towards the voice's origin. "You! The ragged filth over there!" The sailor roared at Fin, who answered by hastily but nervously nodding and approaching him...

"See, I've got an issue with a plague of little shite-rats on this vessel..." As a matter of fact, the sailor stood on a somewhat big fishing boat, pointing at the door to the storages of the ship: "I'm still scrubbing the godsdamned turns the rats leave sometimes on the surface and I've had enough of it; Make yourself useful an' break their necks, wuddya? I'll even give you some spare gold to buy bread with."

If there's anything Fin values a lot, it is money; Just about enough money to survive. While most men and women on this plane have coin as the sworn god or deity, and strive to amass more in the
name of greed, the need Findecano has for money is not one born of avarice, but born of need.
And alas, Fin was already used to sleeping with rats and other kinds of filth; What could go wrong,
other than being unable to catch these today? Fin hastly accepted, and headed down the vessel's innards...

...Finding face-front a black-robed, crow-masked individual. A moment of silence for the peasant and the black figure, then a moment to ponderate, and another moment to realize the both of them were on different kinds of trouble, leading to sound screams of surprise from the both of them. However, if it were a screaming contest, FIndecano would surely win this one, for he screamed like a banshee in heat, and ran blindly towards one of the rooms on the ship out of panic.

The black robed figure follows suit after the surprise has faded, blade in hand. Slams the door open, and searches for the peasant who found out of it's presence in the ship with it's eyes... The peasant is nowhere to be seen. The peasant most certainly went into this room, no doubt about it.
The only logic to apply in this situation is that he was hidden... But where...?

"If you do not show yourself this instant, I will open up every crate, every armoire, until I find you,
and gods be merciful, I'll make splattered meat out of you!" The figure yells at the room in general, providing the desired result: Like it were a magic trick, the man shows up screaming a whining, from one of the crates which held fish, effectively granting him a proper marine stench,
while begging for the figure to spare him.

The robed figure closed in, pointed Findecano against a wall with it's sword. Fin's neck somewhat dropping small ammounts of blood at the touch of the blade, denoting it's sharpness. First day on an unknown town and he was already going to die.

But something unexpected happened.

A bag of coin. Three grands in total. The robed figure popped it out like it were magic, grabbed the peasant's hand, and placed it's weight upon him.

Findecano might be a poorman, a peasant, a filthy and uncultured waste, but by no means a clueless fool; It was clear that this money was a payment for his silence, and were him to ignore the undetermined terms of this transaction and inform the local authorities of the masked individual, he'd most likely lose his head. This was all shady stuff, and probably it'd be for the best if the local authorities knew about this. But Findecano? He couldn't trust the authorities.

As thriving on success as Neverwinter is, it's not without it's faults; Especially the faults involving countless corrupt guards patrolling the lower streets. Findecano and his close individuals, all sharing in the fate that is the life of a beggar, learnt to fear and not trust the law. Therefore, what good could come out of revealing what transpired within the ship? Would he keep his head above his shoulders if he were to tell anybody? And most importantly: Would he see another bag of coin such as this one again if he were to to the righteous thing and inform? He could live for a long while with this coin, AND get to survive!

He nodded constantly, hugging the bag of coin handed to him. All the rats on the ship were dealt with by the robed figure anyways, so there was no point on him staying there. He rushed off, hiding the bag behind his rags, informing the sailor nervously that the rats were dealt with. Took the payment and headed off to the closest inn, in order to procure food and water for his empty belly.


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Many years later...

"Paladins fighting against the guardsmen of Cordor. What has the island come to?"

Findecano thought this as the ground of the always bursting city featured a layout of paladin corpses, and half-orc guards claiming that the knights of the Radiant Heart raised their weapons first. There were already many shady rumours going on for quite a while about the Knights from the commonfolk,
and this did nothing but worsen their situation. Fin knew some of the knights on the higher ranks of the Order, and held them in high steem, so he knew for a fact there was a deeper meaning to this whole mess.

"Heads on pikes! Heads on pikes, I say!" yelled bystanders as the scene became more and more crowded.

Madness. If Cordor goes ahead with such a plan, and holds the heads of two,
maybe three paladins on pikes, at the very sight of everybody, it could mean not a street fight, but an all out war between Cordor and the Order.
It's well known that they do not hold each other in high esteem, but nobody ever thought it'd come to this.

Findecano's grey cape, featuring bright red borderlines, flaunted as he turned to everybody to try and calm the situation to a tolerable extent; "No need for such savagery. I'm sure there's something deeper to this than a simple provocation gone wrong." After all, he only managed to see half of the situation: As he arrived to Cordor in order to hand over some spare scrolls to old Thoramind, an all-out fight between paladins and guards was due at the noble's district. The paladin's side held sacred summons at their behest, while the guardsmen, of orcish blood, had their inmesurable strength on their side. Findecano ponderated helping the paladins, and intended to hold his bow high, and arrows knocked on string... If it were not for the fact it'd be basically "acting first, asking later". It would be reasonable for anybody on this situation to ask either themselves or fleeing individuals: "What is going on?"

The guardsmen claimed the paladins would still be raised, but either outside of the city, as they were hereby banished; or in the barracks' cells. At this point in time, talking so casually about "raising" a dead individual doesn't sound so weird; this is Arelith we're talking about. Still, it's a real shame it had to come down to this. Regardless of the Order's dead knights being in the right or wrong, it was undeniable they engaged in a fight inside a town,
against their guard, using the extent of their holy power, implicating bystanders. While Findecano always considers aiding the Order of the Radiant Heart if ever possible, he would never take part on such brawls, unless there were more dire and obvious circumstances.

...

Things calmed down a bit. Part of the guard is at least scrubbing the remaining pools of blood on the ground, and the people is spreading. There's nothing Fin could do here, and so he heads down the often used street towards the Merchant's District, thinking about what could have bursted such a fight. According to rumours, one of the guards involved was, or is, a Banite, but would that be enough reason to start a full blown fight in the middle of the street? If anything, it had always come to the extent of bickering...

The process of thought was interrupted as Quentin Vale, one of his dear friends, traversed the same street as he.

"Ah, Quentin! Thank Ilmater you're here; You must know of what happened."
Findecano confessed, worried.

"I heard there was a fight going on. What's wrong?"

"Some of your Order's knights engaged in fight with the guards. According to the guards' side, it was the knights who raised their weapons first, so they're claiming it to be self-defense..."

Findecano knew that Cordor was far from being a symbol of virtue: In fact,
it was a city bursting with crime, despite the guards' activity. However, that is not enough reason to think "the knights must have been on the right, for sure!". Siding with either on this matter without knowing what transpired would be a foolish thing to do, so as much as Findecano couldn't give all the face-value to the guard's claims, he really couldn't tell otherwise. Quentin,
on the other hand, on his view, would be able to know what transpired, via his jierarchy position.

Quentin gaves his thanks to Findecano for relaying whatever he knew, and heeded towards the guard's barracks.

Findecano lamented only that he wasn't able to provide more aid. He adjusted his leatherbinds so that his quiver and bow wouldn't bother as he walked down the street: There's nothing to be done on his hand, other than reclaim some coin from his latest adventure, eat well, and rest well: There'll come a point in time in which his actions could have enough consideration for people to allow him to aid them.

But that point in time was not today.

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