Leander Lostburrow's page

‘I’ve been in worse places,’ Slate thought, as lay in his oversized bunk with his hands behind his head. As he lays there with his eyes shut he goes over the layout of the room in his mind. Six foot by eight foot with six foot ceilings, cramped for a human less so for a Halfling like myself. The walls, ceiling and floor are all made of stone with a solid oak door in one wall and in the opposite wall is a small window with four iron bars placed vertically through the opening. The only furniture in the cell is the bed he is lying on, a water basin, and chamber pot in the corner. He concludes that the door is the weak link in the whole thing and wouldn’t be a problem even without his tools. He continues his musings while he opens his eyes and examines the bars on the cell’s window. By the angle of the fading light coming in through the window he concludes that it must be close to dinner.

Slate throws his feet over the side of his cot, springing to his feet, he then swiftly walks over to the washbasin in the corner. As he takes a sip from the basin he considers his reflection and smiles. It is a smile that would have mothers hiding their daughters and bankers holding onto their purses a little tighter. Slate muses that while he was not yet 30 years old the reflection looking back at him seemed, not only older, but more competent or experienced then his years. He stood a little over 3 feet tall and was slim but well-muscled like a greyhound, broad in the shoulders and narrow at the waist, and he carried himself with an air of confidence and the swagger of a veteran.

As Slate continued looking at his reflection he noticed his eyes, they are same color of the sky right before a storm, but it is more than their color that draws his attention, his gaze appears knowing and penetrating, rarely missing anything. His eyes are set in a well-proportioned and tanned face which is framed by slicked dark flowing hair, with a small goatee, the same color. ‘Stop admiring yourself like a maiden going to her first ball,’ he chides himself as he takes another sip of water from the basin.

He turns as he hears the lock on the cell door being engaged and sees the door being opened. To his surprise it is not the usual guard bringing dinner but three thick necked men he does not recognize. The largest of the three motions with his arm and says, ‘come.’

‘Is it time or my massage?’ Slate quips. The large men just stand there with blank faces. ‘Tough crowd,’ He mutters.

With a shrug he begins to follow the men. It doesn’t take long before he brought into the wardens office, but it wasn’t the warden sitting behind the desk. The room was well lit and two men sit behind the desk. One is Commander Rollins, the commander of irregular forces in this sector, who waits with a scowl on his face, the second man, is unknown to Slate and is reviewing some paper work, ignoring the newcomers. One of the thick necked men shows Slate a seat on the opposite side of the desk, which Slate sits in waiting while the other two take positions at the door behind Slate. The last thick necked man takes a position behind the two men sitting across the desk from Slate.

Eventually, the man looks up from his paperwork and says in a raspy voice, ‘Captain Slate, you really screwed up this one. You lost your entire wing,’ as he slaps his hand down on the desk.

Slate leans back in the chair throwing his leg over the armrest and responds, ‘Sir the mission was a success, the asset was secured.’

‘You call five of the Grey Foxes dead a success,” he yells as he stands up continuing, “Furthermore, upon your return you attempted to kill Commander Rollins.”

Not answering, Slate grins at the man and thinks to himself, ‘If I wanted the commander dead he would be.’

The man sits back down, frustrated, and inquires “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself? Do you know how much it cost to train those men?”

When no response is forth coming the Commander crisply chimes in, “I’ve been in command less than six months and have noted multiple instances of disobeying orders as well as insubordination. I’ve also noted that you are an arrogant, incorrigible gambler, philanderer, and drunkard. Well Slate it looks like your arrogance finally did you in on this mission.’

‘You forgot slothful and I have a tendency to talk with my mouthful. Also, technically, I’ am more of a womanizer than a philanderer,’ Slate replies with a grin.

‘And smartass,’ the Commander retorts.

‘True, true,’ Slate chuckles and continues, ‘Now sir, I’ll be the first to admit that there is a fine line between arrogance and self-confidence and that sometimes I cross that line. But in the end I trust my luck and my instincts. As I’ve said the mission was a success.’

‘And full of crap,’ adds the Commander, ‘I have read the report.’

‘Well, that was unfortunate business, but I don’t chose the missions or assign the assets, I told you from the outset we needed the second wing. But that was your decision, you’re lucky I was able to take the crappy hand you dealt us and complete the assignment. Regardless of the losses the mission was a success.’ Slate responds.

The other man takes a deep breath and pulls a sheet of paper off the table. Looking down at the paper in his hand he states, ‘your file says that you joined the military rather than serve time for theft.’ Shaking his head he continues, ‘Upon joining you excelled in your training, graduating first in your class, selected for further training as a scout. Furthermore, it reports that you are an expert in clandestine operations, and small unit tactics, as well as distinguishing yourself as a marksman, equestrian, scout, and tracker.’

He goes on, ‘If that wasn’t impressive enough you were given the opportunity to become a Gray Fox, one of the most elite units on the frontier, where you had an exemplary record and received further training as an officer eventually leading your own wing. However, for every commendation, award and accolade there is a notation for insubordination and reckless behavior.

Interesting Slate thinks, I thought all my personal records were sealed upon acceptance into the Gray Foxes. This man obviously is not military, or some faceless bureaucrat. He had to have some pull to access to those records.

The man continues, reaching for another document on the table and handing the document to Slate, ‘Read this, it’s the order for your execution.’

As Slate reads the order his mild irritation turns to surprise and he asks, “Are you sure this is correct?”

The unknown man answers, ‘Absolutely.’

‘Not so smug now,’ the Commander interjects with a self-satisfied smirk.

‘No, I can’t say that I disagree with the order,’ Slate laughs and continues, ‘It is probably for the best and let’s be honest Commander I wouldn’t handle the rigors of prison very well. I’m afraid I'd be a bit too popular with the inmates, so to speak. Moreover, the guards would probably lose their meager paychecks gambling with me and start beating their wives and that would not be good for moral. So as you can see the way it is going to work out is better for everyone.’

Angrily the Commander retorts, ‘You can put on a show now but come tomorrow I bet you crap your britches.’

The man interrupts saying, ‘Slate we’re not barbarians here, do you have any last requests?’

‘I suppose an all-expenses paid trip around the world is out of the question.’ Not waiting for a reply Slate continues, ‘No, I can’t think of anything,’ as he strokes his small goatee, ‘well maybe some butter with my dinner bread tonight.’

‘That can be done,’ the man replies and adds, ‘Commander have the warden triple the guard outside his door tonight.’ Motioning to the thick necked guards, ‘Take him back to his cell,’

Back in his cell Slate lies in his bunk, with his hands behind his head, again. It is dark outside and he is humming as he thinks about the conversation he just had and the order he read. Well this is definitely the end he thinks, and he reminisces about the life he is going to give up.

Slate reminisces about the time when he had another name. He was a petty thief with a quick wit and even quicker hands, which eventually got him in trouble. It was hard to believe that a petty criminal would become a distinguished soldier and eventually a Captain of a Wing of the Gray Foxes, one of the most elite military units in all of Rimme.

He recounts to himself, The Grey Foxes were a twelve man unit comprised entirely of Halflings. The unit specialized in clandestine operations, subterfuge, high risk rescues, and missions no one else could do. Their abilities, the rise in bandit activity, and the current political climate made for some pretty interesting assignments.

Upon acceptance into the unit, and to protect members from reprisals, a new member loses his old identity and is given a new name. He was given the name Slate. He can’t help but think about the other members of his wing that were lost on the last mission. Rabbit, Sabre, Sandy, Carp, and Garrison. All lost because of the incompetence of Commander Rollins. If the man would have just listened to reason and assigned both wings the mission would have went off without a hitch.

Ah, the other wing, what would they think about what was going to happen, would they understand. More importantly, he considers, what would Autumn think. Autumn, was the captain of the second wing of the Gray Foxes and his lover. He wished there was some way to get word to her to say his final goodbyes, to hold her in his embrace one last time.

His musings are interrupted, as the guards bring in his dinner. They leave it on the floor and leave, locking the door behind them. Slate gets up from the bunk and inspects his dinner, a stale loaf of bread and a small wedge of butter. ‘Perfect’ he thinks as he picks up the loaf, takes a bite, and swallows.

He takes the remainder of the loaf and throws it into the chamber pot. Next he picks up the butter and with little wasted movement springs up to the bars in the window. Holding onto a bar with one hand he smears the butter onto two of the bars. When he is done he hops back down to the cell floor and undresses, folding his clothes into a small package. He takes the remaining water from the basin and pours it over his body.

‘That should do it,’ he mummers to himself as he picks up his clothes then jumps up and grabs a hold of the bars in the cells window. He throws his clothes out the window and begins to wiggle through the bars, the butter and the water providing enough lubrication for him to slip through. He is thankful that the cell was designed to keep humans in and not Halflings otherwise he would have had to fight his way out.

Once outside the cell he picks up his clothes and stealthy moves across the courtyard, examining the surrounding buildings. He heads toward the outer wall and sees what he is looking for, a door in the base of the tower, he reads the sign on the door marking it as a storeroom E. Speedily, he makes for the door, and opens it dashing inside. Once inside he turns around quietly, shutting and locking the door. Fortunately the room is empty, not that he expected otherwise this time of night. Slate quickly gets dressed and begins to search the room for any usable items. To his surprise this room is also an armory and he is able to salvage a length of rope and a musket. However he could only find one bullet for the musket. He loads the musket and concludes, ‘I wish it was a bow but a musket will make it easier.’

Furtively he begins to make his way to the top of the tower. As he moves upward he encounters no one and is unmolested as he makes it to the top. Once on the top the tower he looks up and down the wall, thankful for what his mother called dragon sight which accounts for his superior vision at night, where he can see a guard patrolling in the distance. I’ve got two minutes at the most he calculates. Next he ties the rope off and throws the remainder of the rope over the outside of the wall.

‘Looks like this might work after all’ he reassures himself. Then he hesitates for a second, and considers, ‘Once I do this there is no turning back.’ He turns and makes his way back to the inner wall and looks out across the courtyard toward the well-lit stables. A minute and a half before the guard is in position to see me he reminds himself. From his perch atop the tower Slate doesn’t have to wait long before he sees Commander Rollins standing in the enclosure outside the stables waiting for someone to bring his mount. With little hesitation he brings up the muzzle of the musket and rests the sights on the Commanders head. Slate smoothly pulls the trigger and the Commander collapses. ‘No time to congratulate yourself,’ he thinks as he drops the musket and rushes for the rope.’

Crap, as expected, the muzzle blast of the musket gave his position away. He can hear the commotion and confusion of the guards on the wall as he slides down the rope. Slate runs across the open square that surrounds the compound as shots ring out and bullets ricochet off the cobble stone streets, to close for comfort. Slate makes it to the concealment of the nearby buildings and begins to make is way down the deserted lanes. ‘Ah, here’s the road I want.’ Up ahead he sees a carriage with six horses, pulled to the side of the lane. This is my last chance to disappear he thinks as he approaches the coach, ‘in for a copper in for a platinum as my father used to say.’ He musters his resolve and clambers up into the coach. Upon entering the coach he is immediately thrust back as the carriage shoots forward.

Slate is not surprised to see the man from the warden’s office seated beside him. ‘Nice work’ the man says and continues, ‘I wasn’t sure you would recognize the message hidden in the orders to execute you.’

Slate replies, ‘The cypher you use was perfect, it was the first one I ever learned, hard to forget. The content surprised me, proceed to storage room E, terminate Rollins at stable and rendezvous with Carriage on Downey Street. I had to read it twice to make sure.'’ He continues and asks, ‘why all the subterfuge, why not just pardon me and transfer Rollins?’

‘Rollins had die,’ the man replies, ‘as you know he was incompetent, but well connected. There was no politically expedient way to remove him without serious ramifications. Worse his benefactors felt he was destined for greater things and had political aspirations for him, we couldn’t let him realize those goals.’

The man goes on, ‘Nevertheless, your attack on the commander gave us the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. We were able to get rid of Rollins, place the blame on someone else, and gain a new operative all in one fell swoop.’ He reaches into his satchel and hands a package to Slate.

He goes on, ‘Needless to say you now disavowed and will have no official connection with the government. However, as you probably guessed, we can use your services and have an offer for you. As a show of good faith we have established a new identity for you, here are the appropriate papers and information, review it and commit it to memory.’

‘More importantly, we have a job for you, I’ll inform you about it on the way.’

Slate chimes in, ‘And if I refuse.’

The man smiles for the first time, ‘This is an easy assignment, you’ll be well compensated, and you’re the perfect person for the job.’

‘By perfect, you mean expendable.’ Slate adds as he reviews the documents in front of him and extents his hand to the man in the carriage with him. ‘Hi, I’m Leander Lostburrow nice to meet you.”

Skills
ACP: 0
(8 class +1[Int] +1[DM]) x 2 = 20
Total_______ Skill(Ability)_______Ranks
[9] Acrobatics (Dex)*-------------- [1]
[1] Appraise (Int)*------------------ [0]
[5] Bluff (Cha)* --------------------- [1]
[5] Climb (Str)* --------------------- [1]
[1] Craft (Int)* ---------------------- [0]
[5] Diplomacy (Cha)* --------------- [1]
[8] Disable Device (Dex)* ---------- [1]
[0] Disguise (Cha)*------------------ [0]
[6] Escape Artist (Dex)* ------------ [1]
[x] Handle Aminmal (CHA) ---------
[4] Heal (Wis) ----------------------- [1]
[6] Intimidate (Cha)* --------------- [2]
[x] Knowledge, Arcana (Int) -------- [0]
[x] Knowledge, Dungeoneering (Int)* [0]
[x] Knowledge Engineering (Int) ----- [0]
[x] Knowledge (Geography) (Int)----- [0]
[x] Knowledge (History)* (Int) ------- [0]
[x] Knowledge (Local, South)* (Int) ---- [1]
[x] Knowledge (Local, Central)* (Int) ---[1]
[x] Knowledge (Nature) (Int) --------- [0]
[x] Knowledge (Nobility) (Int) -------- [0]
[x] Knowledge (Planes) (Int) --------- [0]
[x] Knowledge (Religion)* (Int) ------ [0]
[7] Linguistics (Int)* ----------------- [1]
[8] Perception (Wis)* ---------------- [2]
[0] Perform (Cha)* ------------------- [0]
[0] Profession (Wis)* ----------------- [0]
[8] Ride* (Dex)* --------------------- [1]
[5] Sense Motive (Wis)* -------------- [1]
[7] Sleight of Hand (Dex)* ----------- [1]
[x] Spellcraft (Int) -------------------- [0]
[12] Stealth (Dex)*--------------------- [1]
[5] Survival (Wis)---------------------- [1]
[5] Swim (Str)*------------------------ [1]
[x] Use Magic Device (Cha)* --------- [0]

Modifiers:
+2 to Perception skill
+4 to Stealth skill