Previously, we are all introduced to the young acolyte Tellerin and his dreams of being a monk – God’s representative on Earth. If only the route was as easy as it seems to be for before Tellerin even leaves the arched exits of Prontera, he is thrown into a wave of intrigue and conspiracy that will take him to the outer reaches of the Sograt desert and beyond…
The Griffin’s Talon
The Traveller’s Inn or otherwise known as the Griffin’s Talon stood in front of Tellerin, shielding much of the summer sunlight away from the dazzled eyes of Tellerin whom only moments before was an aspiring acolyte stationed within the Grand Basilica.
According to the parting instructions of HoJin, the young man had located the establishment nestled between the low-rise housing that is signature of the city’s Southern quadrant where it was also the common vending ground for merchants, blacksmiths and potion-concocting alchemists coming from all over Rune-Midgard.
Since the annual Grand Fair of Prontera (a trading carnival where the best merchandise from the world over gathers in honour of the King, presently Tristan III) that happens every Mid-Summer is approaching, the city is drowned in a sea of people coming into the city in droves amidst all the hustle and bustle.
“So mi’lad, what ye be wantin’?” enquired the innkeeper who introduced himself as Grimt.
“A room for the night, a bath and a meal,” replied Tellerin while looking around the inn that was half covered in an appetizing waft rising from the huge hunk of venison which was rolling over an equally immense spit in the middle of the tap room. The aroma of the cooked meat while inviting was quite another story when mixed with the overhanging aura of dried sweat and stale beer that pervaded the other half of the watering hole.
“Well, if ‘tis isn’t HoJin’s li’l boy,” squinted Grimt over the bar at the sight of Tellerin’s khaki ecclesiastical robes which was the main garb for the Pronteran clergy, “which means that ye stay here’s provided on old Grimt’s house.” And without even a split second delay, Grimt immediately ushered the visibly surprised acolyte up a flight of stairs and set him before a thick oaken door with a clearly etched “36” on its surface.
“And here’s your keys, mi’lad, enjoy ye stay and don’t forget to holler if ye be needing any help,” beamed Grimt as he stuffed an iron key into the hands of Tellerin and clasped them. “After all, HoJin did leave word about ye welfare, ain’t risking anything to ensure that comes to pass that’s for sure,” winked the slightly pudgy innkeeper with a shiny pate and a ruddy nose.
Robbed!
Tellerin was in short, heartened at the positive reception that he received at the Griffin’s Talon although he was seriously expecting a fierce resistance of breaking away from the Order from the usually strict HoJin. Settling down on his bed, Tellerin finally realized how tired he was and immediately drifted into slumber.
Although Tellerin’s body was fast asleep, his mind remained pretty much alert which was probably due to the heightened sense of anticipation at his impending journey – which was perhaps the chief reason why he could respond to the sudden and sharp rustling sound that was coming from his room window about ten paces away from his bed.
Opening his eyes slowly, Tellerin managed to catch a glimpse of a figure, female in form, moving in relative stealth while rummaging through his belongings. Wasting no time in getting up, Tellerin sprang towards the thief while the latter’s back was turned, hoping to catch the intruder by surprise with a tackle that he once learnt in secret from a Crusader from the Military Wing of the Basilica. However, fast as Tellerin may be, the female thief was way swifter, pulling away and side-stepping Tellerin’s surging tackle, the lithe thief pulled out an evil looking dirk and attempted to stab the acolyte with an almost blinding speed. Tellerin managed to just roll aside in time when the dagger slammed into the floorboard where his face was on moments ago but before he could effect a counter-attack, the thief pulled out the blade and swung the weapon in a back handed move that resulted in a double slash movement, slicing the hem of Tellerin’s tunic and cutting the upper arm of the acolyte.
Grimacing with pain, Tellerin muttered a short prayer and a soft glow enveloped his hand which he cupped over the fresh wound; in moments the bleeding stopped and the cut flesh closed.
“Who are you and what are you doing in my room?”
“Count yourself walking amongst the dead tonight, infidel! The Masks have heard of your treacherous deeds and will come to finish you even if I fail,” hissed the female intruder who under the light of the full moon have revealed herself as more than a house burglar, instead she was a red-robed rogue that Tellerin has only read about in books in the Basilica’s library. The red-robes were said to be cold, efficient and deadly killers though they lacked the grace of their purple-garbed assassin contemporaries.
“Not if I can help it,” growled Tellerin as he chanted, “Almighty Father above take my humble heed, grant thy son Your strength and speed!” With an almost immediate effect, Tellerin felt a wave of raw energy surging through his veins and in moments he drew his mace (which he always kept close to him even while sleeping, another offshoot from those soldiering classes that he was spying on), sidestepped the rogue’s lunging dirk and slammed the blunt weapon onto the back of the surprised rogue’s hand, disarming her.
“You will not hear the last of the Night Masks filthy cur,” spat the rogue while nursing her injured wrist. With a deft flip, she had leapt out of the window and disappeared into the yawning darkness below.
By the time, the innkeeper had rushed to the room; Tellerin had gotten over his shock and had related to Grimt about his narrow escape. “Well, at least ye made it with ye life in a piece, but methinks why them Night Masks of Morroc would be wanting with you? Ye best be careful, mi’lad, devilry is surely afoot.”
Tellerin was not sure as well why an attempt was made at his life but the earlier feelings of a smooth journey was all but gone as he did a quick check on his luggage.
“Darn, she made off with all my zeny!“
A female Acolyte giving Big-Foot (a bear monster in the game) some lovin'
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