Diary of a Rogue (11)

Part XI:

So that’s how and where I received my basic training in roguecraft. There was no pomp and circumstance involved and certainly no commencement ceremony upon ending my apprenticeship. All rogues understand that the title “Master” is left to those still alive and not in prison.

Most people ask me detailed questions at this point so I’ll do my best to sum up my childhood using these past questions. Yes, I did get Binky later for a present and kept her despite my parent’s protestations up until the time I left Southshore for bigger and better things, voluntarily despite the rumors you may have heard. She did manage to get me into more trouble than I was looking for but probably less than I deserved.

No, I was never once caught stealing in Southshore. The reason for this is I never stole anything in Southshore. A rogue that soils her own bed deserves what is coming. No, I do not feel guilty for doing what I do. I will discuss my philosophy behind this later. Right now I just heard a chorus of sighs on the prospect of philosophy lessons but let me assure you it is vital to understanding what I do and why I did it in this tale.

Lunnassa left Southshore about the time I did and despite promises to keep in touch we never did. Perhaps someday I’ll find out what became of her or even better will run into her somewhere. My guess will be that it will be under a different name since she left town with most of the treasury. The job was masterful and I’m glad she was the type to leave taunting notes at the crime scene or I’m sure I would have been a prime suspect.

Now, we are going to forward the tale to roughly eight years from the above. I had just turned 17 and the tale in truth is about to begin. It all started with a joke. Doesn’t it always?

Diary of a Rogue (10)

Part X:

Her eyes locked on mine, I found myself frightened into non-motion. As much as my small legs wanted to get moving and run as far away as I could, I found I was a statue. My brain seemed to be just as frozen. She seemed to be taking me in inch by inch, quietly assessing the situation.

“Child,” she said carefully, “what exactly were you doing with my mechanical?”

“Your what?” I answered, genuinely confused.

“My mechanical…” she said, pointing at the inactive bronze animal at my feet, “the one you seemed to be in the process of… harassing.”

“Binky?” I asked, blinking, “I mean… I was…”

The feeling was suddenly coming back to my body and brain.

“Trying to steal him?” She answered, an eyebrow shooting up as she completed my sentence much more truthfully than I ever would have.

“Her,” was all I could think of to correct her.

I expected a quick clout to the ear as she approached me, the natural reaction to a child caught stealing in Southshore at the time. With the coming wars this punishment would naturally escalate to beatings and in some cases, worse. No blow landed, however, and for the first time I really wondered what my consequence would be.

“Child,” I heard her mouth whisper inches from my ear and from behind, “If you wish to be a rogue you have to better than this.”

Diary of a Rogue (9)

Part IX:

The cottage door closed behind me and I looked at my target. Binky’s tiny, red glowing eyes were fixed on mine and her tail gave a small jerk as if she were expecting what was coming next. As cute as she was I wanted her now more than ever.

“Come here,” I implored, being ignored.

I reached forward to grab the small creature and felt the metal teeth clamp down onto the tip of my finger. As I lifted the mechanical animal who was much heavier than I expected from the ground the hard way (teeth attached to finger tip), the tears rolled down my cheek silently. I was learning my first lesson as a rogue. Sometimes stealing can be very painful. Binky dropped to the floor as I reached to grab her with the other hand and stood there. I could swear she was smiling. Anger suddenly boiled up in me and I dove at her.

I stepped forward, sack open and pounced on my tiny target that suddenly was no longer there as the bag fell on empty floor. I cringed as I felt the tiny metal feet clawing their way up my leg, back, then neck. I felt the heaviness of the animal on my right shoulder and turned to face her, finding her tiny nose a scant inch from mine. Her red eyes were staring at me in amusement.

Suddenly her small teeth clamped onto the end of my nose and, discovery or no discovery, I let out a scream that shook the foundations of the house. I reached up with both hands and as gently as possible tried to separate the small metal jaws from my incredibly aching nose. Second after painful second seemed to pass.

“Down!” said a feminine voice, “Deactivate!”

The small squirrel went limp and fell from my nose. I felt relief then a good deal of fear as I looked at the brown-haired goblin standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, eyebrows set angrily as she took in the scene. I was in trouble.

Diary of a Rogue (8)

Part VIII:

 

I could see that even Lunnassa didn’t risk damage to her cottage.  She had built a small workshop a good distance away.  I could see her small, green form through the glass window working on something.

A glint of bronze drew my eyes to her cottage window.  There was something small and metallic moving there.  My childhood curiosity was thoroughly piqued and I made my way through small bushes closer and closer, careful not to be seen by the goblin.  She probably ate kids.  They all did in the stories my brother told.

 My eyes set on the small mechanical squirrel and two things happened at once.  The first was that my desire for something that wasn’t rightfully mine suddenly overcame my good senses for the first time in my life.  The second was that I gave it the name, “Binky” because quite frankly she was small, cute, and looked like a Binky.  I knew at that moment that Binky would be mine.

My career as a potential kidnapper/thief began as I grabbed a small burlap sack from a stack of boxes set behind the cottage.  I looked over at the workshop one final time, saw nothing, and decided to risk it.  The faster I did this the less chance I had of getting caught.

Looking back through more experienced eyes it was to be the first in a series of events that was to shape the person I am today.  I am, however, who I am and like it that way.  I am not one to often wonder how things could have turned out differently.  I have the strange urge to do so now.

 

Diary of a Rogue (7)

Part VII:

“Samlyn Tailor!,” my mom yelled as I made my way out of the house, “You stay out of trouble today, you hear!”

“Yeah, yeah,” I retorted under my breath, making sure she couldn’t hear my mumbles. For a human her ears were sharper than a wolf. Her eyes weren’t half bad either.

My mischief sense led me to the beach north east of town. I had seen a real life murloc there one Sunday afternoon, not that any of the other kids would believe me. Of course, it may have been a clump of washed up seaweed but there was no way I was going to get close enough to tell for sure.

I reached for the small knife in its leather sheath that my father had presented me with last year. He probably hoped that I would take up whittling with it but I had found other games to play with it. Today I was going to kill a murloc! I knew that if I found one it would have to be quick indeed to catch my fleeing form and my screams would probably make it run away, but I was feeling braver than normal since an actual murloc was nowhere around.

As I made my way stealthily over a dune I found myself staring down at Lunnassa’s cottage. Lunnassa I had learned was the name of the female goblin that had blown a hole in the Inn. She had apparently adopted Southshore as her home even if the humans wouldn’t let her live there on account of all the explosions.

Diary of a Rogue (6)

Part VI:

It was a normal summer day in Southshore. I was standing on the docks, throwing rocks at seagulls who dodged them artfully. There was a ship being loaded with grains from Tarren Mill and bound to some wondrous land. That wondrous land was probably guarded by some huge, stone fortress to protect from dragons and trolls. Or so my vivid childhood imagination thought. Southshore was as boring a place to grow up as any.

So bored was I, that the explosion and rain of glass around me didn’t register for several seconds after it occurred. A loud ringing sound was all I could hear in my sensitive ears for several minutes. I looked around and saw sailors running toward the Inn whose second story now had smoke pouring from a blackened window. I made my way toward the Silver Dolphin Inn along with the crowd as the sound of ringing slowly subsided.

I gathered in a crowd of chattering children, wondering with the rest if the Inn would burn down and what treasures we’d find in the charred remains after it did. No fire emerged from the hole in the Inn, just a strange bluish-grey smoke. Old Pauly, owner of the Inn, appeared in the doorway dragging a female goblin by the ear. The goblin found herself tossed into the street, with a duffle bag following her soon after.

“Keep your experiments out of my Inn,” Old Pauly screamed, turning a bright purple, “I told you last night not to be mixing chemicals after you stunk my place up like a mess of rotten skunks!”

All eyes were on the female goblin who dusted herself off and held her composure and tongue. She actually had a haughty look as she harrumphed, picked up her bag, and walked down the street.

Excitement had come to Southshore.

Diary of a Rogue (5)

Part V:

One might expect that growing up in a mostly human settlement as the sole blood elf would be difficult. In my case one would be very wrong. As far as I can remember, there were no cases of blatant racism against me as there were against orcs, trolls, or any of the other species I had heard about. I suppose this had to do with the fact that except for my size and ears, I resembled a beautiful human child.

I later found out when I first met others of my own race, that although I was very beautiful by human standards I was pretty plain by theirs. Growing up, I was constantly the center of both wanted and unwanted attention. It became a chore as I entered puberty, which we blood elves do at normal times compared to humans. Our aging does not slow down dramatically until early adulthood.

Besides my beauty, however, my childhood was a normal one. I was prone to getting into more mischief than the average human child as I can remember most of my childhood seemed to be spent sitting in a corner or washing dishes. My parents, both human, loved me as much as they could a human child. My adoptive brothers and sisters accepted me as one of their own and were if anything overprotective of me.

All of that to say that you should not think this tale will be of my persecutions growing up in abnormal circumstances. Not at all. Everything that happened to me could eventually be traced back to my own actions.