The Tale of Quentin Tarella
I grew up in the old Great Kingdom when it still had reason to claim greatness. The streets of Rauxes were like the back of my own hand to me and I traveled them daily as I went about my job as a delivery boy for my family. My mother was a baker, the best baker on Oerth. She would save the best for me at no charge because I was special. My father was a mage at court and was constantly keeping us free from politics and intrigue. I was a good life. A nice life. I had it for nine years. Which, of course, really means about four years because who remembers things before the age of five? Some, indeed true, but most lack a depth until five that makes memories unreliable.
I am still unsure as to what happened to shatter my world, and until I can check the court records of Rauxes I never will. I can only assume one day my father was unable to keep us free from intrigue any longer. A mage came to my home and without a word, over the protests of my mother…sent me away. Away to the most horrible place one could ever imagine. I have no idea if my mother lived long after that. I have no idea if my father was alive at the point the man came to the door or if his death proceeded or followed the event. Or, to be sure, if he was killed at all. I would like to think that only death would allow for the lapse in protection. But I cannot say.
What I can say is that I found myself in a very odd place. It was more advanced than even the Great Kingdom. But so very sparsely populated. The people were odd, rich and distant. There were street people and such…but they were cagey and waiting for something. So although I would see them occasionally I mainly watched the upper classes.
I found one could simply claim an empty home. So I became a home owner at nine. I was convinced that my father would save me. As time went on, it became obvious I was wrong. Soon after I was acclimated I was introduced to my fellow lower class street people. I was taught how to make a living by illusion and con artistry. I was taught to say on the right side of being evil…essentially to no be. Because here it was like a magnet. And I was told I was in a place named Richemulot and the real rulers were the Wererats.
I could go on forever about growing up with the street gangs of Richemulot. I could give you thousands of words describing the city and culture. But for our shared purposes let me move to when I met a group of people who hunted Boogeymen and were associated with the Heroes of The Key.
The young man Thaddeus and his sidekick the gnome Katinker Tatters; as well as others. There was a woman who was born in a place ruled by a strict godlike monster, a young serving woman who was looking for her son, a bard who was also from Oerth and a half gypsy woman. We had many adventures hunting down boogeymen, and I was (to be modest) helpful with my illusions and deceptions. I was there when the Spider Throne of Vecna was shattered and after that the group disbanded. All those are stories for another time, but after that I was able to take advantage of the brief window to return to Oerth…although time moves differently between the planes and I have found myself dealing again with being a stranger in the world.
I can write something for you all on how to deal with boogeymen…and I believe our bard is on Oerth. Thaddeus, the good one…I have no idea where he is. But I can help with boogeymen. And with this gnome girl. All I ask if that your friends take me at some point to Rauxes. I need to get through the magic there and find out what happened to my family.