Lockpicking. It fed me as a child. My father was legendary. He tried to teach me time and time again, but I never learned. I’ll have you know that this is not the first time I have regretted this, but it seems that it may be my last. My good citizens, this will likely be the last that you will hear from me. A final story. A story that is best began from the end.
I have toured dungeons and jail cells from Trinsic to Yew and have never been exposed to such conditions. Mining, sun up until sun down. It’s not easy and I’m terrible at it, ’tis a fate worse than death. To make matters worse, I am chained to a rock fastened with a high quality lock, nothing that would have held my father, but still far beyond my capabilities. It’s not so much the mining as it is the daily dunks in the river and the forced use of soap. Why are you mining? You ask. Because of the governor and his goons of course.
It began in Moonglow. A contact of mine had a line on a very large amount of cheap, home-made spirits on the island. The only issue was getting it off of the island would require a legendary… ummm… trader… yes… trader. I knew just the man. Nonel Topd. So a large sum of gold was paid and a ship left for Moonglow to retrieve my newly acquired cargo. Everything went off without a hitch, until the cargo reached the Minoc docks, where I arrived with Morbious, our most promising recruit. I did not realize how physically large that quantity of liquor would be so we sent Morbious through the moongate to retrieve some good men to load the goods for us, but I could feel that something wasn’t right.
They appeared soon after Morbious’ return. Governor Toshi, the fool, and his henchmen.
The battle was short-lived and painful. Nonel managed to escape but Morbious and I were captured. The sailors we hired in Britain were all slain, every last one.
So there it is good citizens. The story of my demise. I fear I will be here for the rest of my days, mining away, while hopefully trying to send messages in the deliveries of ore the guards haul away twice daily. What I wouldn’t give to enjoy one more drink at the tavern. As the sun sets, I watch a bird ferociously attack the hard shell of a seed as I have now done to the lock that now holds me several times in my anger. If only I had listened to my father about lockpicking back then.