A Chronicle of the Master Assassin of Tharbad

                                     - 1 -
Here follows a journal of our plans to overthrow the pretender, who would
appoint himself Chief of Tharbad. That position is mine - mine by right
of strength and by birth, but he has usurped it by use of all manner of
base trickery! Such will ever happen if you fall in with common thieves.

But he did not win all. Before we were forced to flee the city, we were
able to win some choice items from his precious hoard. The city walls
will surely quake with his anger when he realises his loss! And we shall
all drink an extra pint of ale, raising our flagons in toast to his
discomfort!

For the safety of my most precious belongings, I have locked them away in a
stout chest. I keep the only key to the storage chamber close to my person
day and night, but the key to the chest itself I have entrusted to Falmar,
my most trusted friend and lieutenant.

                                     - 2 -
Many of the following pages seem to be more a ledger than a journal, with
what are apparently the records of numerous business transactions. However,
this somewhat utilitarian text is interspersed with sections of narrative.
All is carefully inscribed in the same meticulous hand which you saw on
the opening pages.

One entry catches your eye:

Word reached my ears today of the goings on at the castle of Minhiriath,
some miles to the northwest of here. It seems that the fool Malardil and
his band of rogues and misfits has taken up residence there. It is also
rumoured that he has taken up with some wench, who has made promises to
teach him the ways of the wizard. Perhaps he is foolish enough to imagine
himself powerful enough to oust that old half-wit, the self-appointed Chief
of Tharbad, and his pet sorceror. He is twice the fool if he makes such an
attempt, for he is surely too weak. Yet I wish him luck - should luck smile
on his venture, he will be the easier opponent for me to vanquish.

I wonder though, how long will my old friend Morthan remain with Malardil.
He left my side when I looked to the ways of the magician, and his fear
and loathing of magic are unlikely to be diminished now.

                                     - 3 -
Our numbers are increasing. When I left the city I was reluctant to bring with
me into hiding any but those I most trusted. And so many who had proudly
counted themselves members of the Guild of Assassins were left to fend for
themselves under the tyranny of the newly enthroned Chief. Some have since
joined us here, as soon I have been able to determine them loyal, whilst others
of our allies remain within the city, and in hiding among the denizens of the
sewers, acting as spies. One of these men recently brought news to me of a
group of new arrivals in Tharbad - a small band of men who have travelled here
from lands to the south and east. Though they lack the finesse of the men I
have trained myself, they carry themselves like experienced assassins, and it
has been clear from their behaviour since their arrival that they hold no love
or loyalty for the Chief, so I have invited them to join us. I will have Falmar
keep watch on their actions for a while, but should they decide to remain here
permanently, instead of travelling onward to the north, as they once mentioned,
I think they will prove to be a great asset. Otherwise they will prove to be
hearty fish food.

                                     - 4 -
News has come to my ears regarding Morthan. I had thought he followed Malardil
still, but it seems that fearing the sorcery at the castle, he has chosen his
own path - ah how the mighty are fallen - I once judged him to be a worthy and
noble man, yet now he seems little more than a common racketeer! He has left
Malardil's employ, along with Thena, and they have set up an encampment close
by the Greenway, about half-way between here and Bree. There they and their men
demand payment from passing travellers, and only those who can afford to travel
by coach, may travel the road there in safety.

                                     - 5 -
Buried amid a long series of figures, estimates and lists labelled "outstanding
accounts" an inconspicuous section of text almost escapes your attention:

I fear my reputation will be hurt if news of this should leak out - today I was
obliged to refuse a commission! But I should rather risk my reputation than
court certain death. The brigand known as Big John approached me, requesting
my services to avenge the death of his father. As I tried to judge a fair fee
for the task, I questioned him about the identity of the killer. As he revealed
what he knew it came to me that he was speaking of none other than Huor of Dor-
lomin, Chieftain of Rhudaur. I politely informed the brigand that he could not
afford the price I would ask to bring the wrath of Rhudaur to bear against
me. Better their minds be turned toward the demise of my enemies, than their
eyes seek me out as the man who buried a poisoned blade in the back of their
leader.

                                     - 6 -
Leafing further through the book you come upon an entry made in more haste
than the others, and perhaps, you judge, made in the heat of anger, for the
graceful, flowing hand becomes quite ragged in places:

An ill deed was done to us this day! Falmar was travelling from Fornost Erain,
whence he had been to carry out a small commission on my behalf. His party was
not large, for the sake of travelling inconspicuously, as is our custom, and
they were unexpectedly waylaid by that scoundrel Morthan. Though no more
disciplined than a band of outlaws, his men are brave and loyal to him it would
seem, for they dealt many severe blows to Falmar's party before the skirmish
was over. Falmar then led his men onward to the south, travelling as swiftly as
they were able - alas that they lost their horses to that common highwayman and
his woman! This was the cause of our downfall. Unhorsed as they were, they were
unable to travel through Malardil's lands before nightfall, and they were
ambushed at dusk, where the road draws close to a stony path to the river. Of
Falmar's party only my friend Aiglin escaped the carnage, returning to our
complex beaten and bleeding, to bring us the dire tidings. Too late we rode out
to their aid, to find naught but a funeral pyre. This day I lost my closest
friend, my brother, Falmar. His death will be avenged a thousand times by the
suffering we will mete out on Malardil and his foul clan. The assassin knows
many ways to kill, and not all of them are fast and without pain!

                                     - 7 -
Today I heard a tale which made me laugh aloud, a welcome tincture following my
painful losses. It seems that the Tharbad coach recently threw a wheel as it
travelled near to the southern end of the Greenway. As soon as word reached the
city, a party was sent out to effect repairs, and with them went a small band
of cheap mercenaries, to protect the passengers from any passing brigands.
Well, it seems that that old imbecile, Malardil, believed the party to be none
other than a band of my own loyal men. He went to great and elaborate effort to
ambush the group, taking, to all accounts, almost all of the forces under his
command. But even so, rumour has it that one of the mercenaries is still
quaffing ale at Jasper's tavern, and laughing at the ineptitude of the attack.