Rich Fleider

aka: Richard Fleider
Moby ID: 2076

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Now that my palette has been wet sufficiently by your exceptional spirits, I can commence with the extraordinary chronicle of how I came to find myself in this curious situation. Have a care that the fine drink does not befuddle your senses as you may miss some critical detail of my expedition and be tempted to ask me to repeat myself. A man of my noble bearing is loath to do such a thing.

I shan’t bore you with the inconsequential details of my upbringing save only to show my undying gratitude towards the family and friends that have nurtured and supported me through poverty and prosperity. I was a young man, admired and respected by many. Fate, however, is a fickle mistress and courting her is fraught with exhilaration, intrigue, and peril, not unlike the wooing of mine own betrothed resplendent Queen of Light and Resurrection. Even a man who seemingly has the world at his very feet may yet come to some trouble and I was no exception.

Nay, my tale begins whereupon I cast my entrepreneurial ship into the rough and uncharted waters of commerce. I banded together with a handful of stout and hearty acquaintances and set about assembling a fine crew of the most capable and entertaining Rogues that could be found. History shall write our names large through our well-and-widely received exploits, of which I need not expound upon at this time for fear of losing the thread of my narrative. I would commend their noble efforts in the face of overwhelming hardship and sacrifice. Hopefully the accolades that they received, while paling into insignificance next to the riches beyond measure that their skills should rightfully have earned, may reflect the gratitude of my associates and myself. Let them wish us no ill will and at least take solace in the knowledge that the helmsmen fared no better then they.

Alas, the honeyed shores of blissful success seemed e’er to retreat before our onrushing bow like the barnacle encrusted back of a mighty sea beast. Our voyage was headed for dark water indeed. After many hard fought victories our humble ship, bulging fore and aft with headstrong Rogues, plunged into a dark and eerie Wonderland, I shall remember it distinctly onto my deathbed.

Twas four o'clock in the afternoon, and the lithe and slimy badger-creatures twirled about and made holes in the sundial’s grass. All flimsy and miserable were the shabby birds and the lost little green pigs bellowed and whistled.

It was a strange land indeed and I won’t dwell on the odd things found there as that adventure is well recorded elsewhere and my tale has dragged on a bit in the middle. Suffice to say that the hearty crew survived the harrowing ride intact with few exceptions but such is the risk of such endeavors. We set sail for our next destination, a port that promised luxury and easy riches for the taking but mere months into our journey we were beset with dire calamity. Our benefactors that had promised fame and fortune were themselves torn by strife and could no longer light the way to our next port. Thus becalmed and in great peril, we drifted for fortnights through the darkness without sustenance or comfort.

In times of sorrow, a lesser man casts about himself to for the source of his misfortune; indeed there were many ill turns of luck that conspired to prevent our craft from reaching the farther shore, but a noble man as myself does not waste time in such a fashion. After accepting any fault that may have rightfully landed upon my shoulders, I took stock of the situation. Our fearless Captain and much of the crew had been lured overboard by the siren song of opportunity and all of our provisions were spent but there dawned a new hope as an island broke from the inscrutable fog. A ragged cheer broke from the loyal crew, as salvation loomed closer. Perhaps success was to be had from this venture yet. Our flagging spirits soared as the beach drew close but all was not right. We struck hard upon the hidden shoals of misfortune yet again. This time the wounded ship would not recover and she was dashed to splinters in the crashing surf.

Do not tremble so, dear listener! My rakish presence before you this day should assuage your dreadful fears for obviously all was not lost. Though the waves battered me fiercely and the tide bore me out into the churning seas of uncertainty, I fixed my eyes upon a fierce and wild shore roofed with primeval verdant jungle. A coarse village was laid out before me, secluded by a gateway of purest crystal glass, through which I could spy the curious and savage natives of this new world. The tribesmen distinguished themselves through the use of every type of outlandish dress and outrageous coiffure imaginable. The sole female in the village, sporting the wildly colored hair and garb typical of their clan, threw open the glass portal and bade me enter. Imagine my surprise when I discovered members of my ill-fated crew were already welcomed into their ranks!

Perhaps I would yet find refuge here among the noble savages and the village might be enriched by the addition of my skills and experience. Perhaps, in some small capacity I can assist this tribe on the road to prosperity. Only the inexorable passage of time will disclose my tempest-toss’d fate for now I can clearly see the bottom of my goblet and that is a tragedy that I cannot abide. Refresh my glass and I shall regale you with tales of my formative years in the blustery frozen land of the wild onion and how I came to befriend the diminutive Czarina of the Raven Hair. Would you rather hear of my trials and tribulations in the sun-blasted wastelands that were, for reasons unfathomable to be, liberated from a small pack of drunken Spaniards? I can endeavor to educate you with a narrative describing the antics of a band of thoroughly entertaining, and quite mad, storytellers with whom I’ve shared many a delightful evening. If you seek more lurid fare, perhaps you will thrill to the exploits of Buthen the Bloated, High-Priest of Hedonisma and his consort Dame Lillianna, Rider of the Silken Worm.

Alas I can continue no more with my parched throat. If that slack-witted servant ever returns from the cellar with another bottle of brandy, perhaps I’ll resume but for now my tale has run its course and my lissome fiancé awaits my return…

Selected articles from Ritual Entertainment Official Company Website

Credited on 40 games

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