Rodrick Krimmson's Memoirs

A (hopefully) large collection of dictated memoirs from the Mayor of a town in the DnD campaign that I am playing in. This is to help me develop his character in a meaningful way, whilst unable to play with the group due to exams on the GM's behalf.

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3. Mayor, Somehow

So, I guess I should move on with the story, and the next thing that happened was probably becoming mayor to be honest, so I think I'll skip to that. 

I'd been wandering in the mountains for years now, twenty to be exact, when I crested a peak I had not yet climbed before in my journey through the mountain range. Once I cleared it I saw the most beautiful town, flanked on either side by mountains so thin and tall they looked like walls erected by the gods to keep the passage safe. And the buildings themselves were made of wood and stone, and softer and kinder than any architecture had ever been in Aunarr. The inns and halls looked warm, inviting, and from miles away I felt myself drawn to their shapely construction. But as I spent the day getting closer the village seemed more and more off, until I heard it, screams and cries, yells and grunts of combat, and the sound that I will never forget of fresh steel blades on innocent flesh. 

I ran into the fray, unsure of who to help, but looking at the cold stern faces of the guards, and the pleading, starving crying faces of the townsfolk I knew that I had no choice in the matter. I was strong, stronger than four men together almost, and had little difficulty dispatching the soldiers quickly and without injury. The mob carried me into the town hall, where the current Mayor sat on his throne of wood and stone, looking defeated already. As I approached there were roars of murderous intent, but I knew that I would not, nay, would not be capable of killing this man. I roared for silence, and there was silence, but there was also expectation. I was stood in front of dozens of people who had never seen me before i their lives, someone who had single handedly made their revolution possible, and they were looking to me for a decision which I was less qualified to make than any of them. So I did the only thing I knew how to do that would never be considered the wrong choice. I held it to a vote. 

I don't remember quite how many people voted that he should live, but I do remember that it was a handful of those who would benefit most from it. So, later in the week, at the gallows, he was executed, and I was made the mayor of Borderton. Somehow... 

 

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