a study of mortality rates in imaginary populations
A young control wizard in search of loot and the destruction of the drow who once kidnapped him.
I grew up in a distant city, along the base of a mountain range. The son of a noble military general, I was trained to use my magical abilities to help defend the city, which was under constant threat from drow attacks. One morning I was approached by a drow ranger. He told me his story of being captured by a group of elven scouts on patrol. He was able to escape in the night with the help of an eladrin paladin. Inspired by his ally, he was convinced that the drow must concentrate on the elves as the true enemy. He became a double-agent, traveling the mountainside to warn the eladrin of upcoming drow attacks.
He claimed a drow attack would come on the following eve. I small vanguard of drow was supposed to have been camped on a ledge in the mountains, just above the city. He took me into the mountains to show me where I could expect an attack to be launched from. I never should have trusted that vile, wretched man. Once on the ledge, he summoned his boar-friend to flank me, cleaving my leg to prevent escape. Caught off-guard my attacker was able to knock me unconscious. I was taken prisoner and held for ransom.
My father negotiated my release but the city elders did not favor my father negotiating with the drow; we were banished from the city. On our journey to the next eladrin city, I would spend the evenings foraging for food while my father would keep watch on our camp. One dreary evening stands out in my memory, blurring my memories of the rest of my journey. Either weary of a life of war or wary of burdening me on our journey, my father traveled the length of his own sword, to find peace with my mother in the afterlife. Alone in the wilderness and hobbled by a limp from my capture, I made haste for the next city, too scared to rest.
Homeless and without a family, I arrived in the next eladrin city. It was a truly immense, bustling metropolis. I met a mysterious halfling named Valandra. She doesn’t seem to like me much, but I can’t tell if she much likes anyone. We’ve been running a racket in which I distract witless marks while she lightens their load. Alas, as big as this city is, we’re starting to hear stories of our heists and must leave or lay low. Valandra wants to travel to King Ban’s city, but I am wary of traveling with such a scoundrel. Can I trust her? I’m in a dire position, without much choice, but I must be wary of another trap. I will never be captured again!