Azenutine’s Mysterious Disappearance

The last entry in Azenutine’s journal, found amongst his belongings after his death at the hands of Auren Vrood, dated 8th Gozran 4711

I was suddenly grabbed from behind and dragged into the wall. It was bizarre, but before I could cast a spell I felt a cold dagger in my ribs. “Steady, mate. We just needed to have a little chat, that’s all.” The room where moments before I had been with my companions disappeared as the panels shut. The last person I saw was Judge Daramid. Then I heard the a tapping noise and there was a warm glow of light on the end of a rod. “This way, bruv. And not a squeak.” and I was half led, half pushed down rough hewn steps in the stone. At the bottom, my guides took a right and at once I spotted the usual signs of Ustalav Thieves Guilds. I started to see my life before my eyes. No doubt some stupid rogue code I had broken, punishable by a dirk in the kidneys somewhere in a dark alley. Before I knew it, I was ordered to climb up a set of wooden stairs into a pub. I heard the raucous banter of the punters in the lounge and thought for a second I could bolt out but the burly publican stood in the way, not-so-absent-mindedly playing with his rather large knife. And so I was ushered into the dark, smokey back-room, and made to sit in a creaky old chair. In front of me was a rather big man, with missing teeth and several scars.

He squinted at me and with a croaking voice stated the obvious… “So, you’re the one they call Azenutine…”

I’d love to commit more of the small-talk here but, besides not being very interesting, spilling the beans on shadowy societies more often than not has fatal consequences. Suffice to say that, apparently, my visit to Lepidstadt was fortuitous and that the local guild had some use for my services. In exchange for over-looking some minor misdemeanours in the Rogues’ Way, I did some favours for the local guild. Again, I need to be careful with what I am committing to parchment, however my suspicions that the presiding judges Aldaar and Kharp at the trial were rather corrupt proved correct. It didn’t really surprise me to find that they had very few friends among the thieving fraternity.

You might be excused for thinking that the sanction for such an indiscretion was a knife in the back, or a mysterious poison in the Elevenses. You’d be wrong, however: black-mail is a much more entertaining form of revenge, and one guilds up and down the realms have mastered. The other little detail which still makes me chuckle is that I figured out how Daramid could appear out of nowhere in the courthouse so soon before I was temporarily separated from my companions.

Needless to say, it was her who wrote to me after my assignment had finished to send me along to rejoin my companions at Shudderwood. I wonder what trouble Roguard has got us in whilst I was away (assuming he’s still alive, and has not celebrated the ultimate ceremony of his goddess).


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