It was supposed to be a simple job

“”/campaign/the-tale-of-the-exile/wikis/gaven-morren" class=“wiki-page-link”>Gaven Morren, late of Calisapas, you have been charged and found guilty under Miirian law of the following crimes…"

Just one simple job. Get in to the lair of one of the city’s noble houses, steal something another noble house wanted, maybe pocket a little extra on the side, and then I’d have enough to pay off Longshankes and return home. That’s all it would have taken. But my idiot partner botched the whole thing. He carried a lit candle on the job, and when the guards got close and I blew it out so we wouldn’t get seen, he started shrieking. You’d have thought I’d stabbed him. Now I’m up on charges for unlawful entry, theft, and apparently attempted murder.

Dragon take that idiot. Take him and swallow him to Hell.

The Magistrate is glaring at me. “Gaven Morren, your crimes demand redress.” Oh, here we go. “By the mercy of the court,” I snort at this, “you are offered the choice of these fates.

There’s a loophole, though. A punishment called Exile. “From the midnight hour until dawn, you would be stripped of all arms, armor, and illumination. You would then be cast out into the streets, there to face the judgment of The Shadows. Should you survive, you would then be held in the debtor’s jail until the next midnight, where the process would continue, until all seven nights have passed.”

Really?

I’ve been in town a week. I’ve never seen a city shut down so fast at nightfall. Even the City Watch doesn’t venture out past the curfew. I’d be free to pick the city clean! I’ve heard that Miirians are supposed to be afraid of their own shadows, but this…this can’t be real, can it? I wonder what the catch is, but there is no way I’m getting a better deal than this.

Sure, there are supposed to be these Shadows that will make my life miserable. There’s rumors of goblins hunting the alleys, streets that don’t lead the same place twice, spirits who possess the dead, decadent nobles who play with people’s lives for sport, a circus that transforms men into monsters, and worse. I’m told the last Exile was found with his eyes gouged out and strange writing in blood on the walls around his corpse.

But you expect to hear that kind of stuff in a city as superstitious as Miir. Really, it’s only a week.

How bad could it be?

The Tale of The Exile

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