Moriary Kessler - Chris

A magnetic figure, if not an imposing one. Prone to take advantage of a weaker enemy, punishing them for opposing Moriarty Kessler. He wields a rapier and a razor flogged whip, threatening foes beyond reach.


Guthrie Hunter was a wiry and busy lad. He wasn't one to be caught unawares, jumpy some would say. Guthrie, as his surname implies, was a hunter, rather a son of a hunter which made him also a hunter. He knew the lands immediately outside the City of Order and freely went about his duties, capturing and killing game.

Moriarty wasn’t for the patient kill. He wanted immediate satisfaction, possibly why the fairer folk avoided him, even with his good looks and charm. So, when Moriarty wondered about and became lost, Guthrie tracked him down, further away from the city walls than should be tempted.


They argued a bit, shoving each other around and creating a commotion that attracted a ne’er do well. A hobbling, but strong, Goblin was crutching a wooden staff, mumbling as he went along. “I find what I want to find and I keeps what me finds.”

“I’ve seen you before,” spat Guthrie, “you’re the Goblin of the Wood, Eldrathskin!”

“Ohh, I’ve spied you before too, too well have I seen you. You wallow in the wood, play in the pond, prowl in the poises, dally in the depths. Ohh, I’ve seen you!” Just then Guthrie jumps into action and draws his small bow, shaking as he aims. Eldrathskin, already in the midst of chanting a spell, points his staff at Guthrie and sparks fly in his face, mesmerizing poor Guthrie. However, Guthrie loosed a fated arrow, landing in Eldrathskin’s eye socket which made a ‘sucking’ noise much like opening a can of jam.

“Ack! Mine eye!” Yelled poor Eldrathskin. Moriarty watched the play unfold and did nothing. It was entertaining, even as Eldrathskin withdrew an evil looking scimitar, walked up to Guthrie and gutted him. His entrails poured out like many of the fated animals Guthrie had hunted. Yet, Moriarty stood watching.

Eldrathskin tended to his eye and either did not see Moriarty, or knew he was his audience today. A slight smile under the pain arose from Guthrie’s chin. “You boy! Are you enjoying yourself?”

“You killed Gu-Guthrie! I should kill you! I will kill you!” Courage failing him, Moriarty grabs his whip and whips it behind him, making a loud ‘crack!’

“You certainly, most definitely, will not be killing me, today,” spoke Eldrathskin calmly, almost politely.

“Why, why will I not?” tripped Moriarty.

“You didn’t like’em. In fact, I think you hated him.” Eldrathskin poured a salve on his eye, blinked a few times and wrapped gauze around his head. “Now, hand me his belt pouch and his coat-of-arms necklace. A nice coup deserves its desserts. Plus, you shouldn’t be going back to town with no loss.”

For some reason Moriarty did as he was told, contemplating what the ghoulish soul had said. Eldrathskin started back into the woods, mumbling, “I find what I want to find and I keeps what me finds.”

When the story came out, Moriarty had avenged Guthrie's death by killing Eldrathskin. Guthrie was the foolish one that got lost and provoked fate. Moriarty was the hero. The lie continues to this day.


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