Chained to a wall with two armed guards for amusement you'd think that things would at least be exciting for my first train ride. You'd be horribly wrong naturally, but you would at least think there was a possibility you wouldn't be wrong! I tried to amuse myself with the guards, see what kind of conversationalists they were. Apparently when you are listed as being a huge rebellion leader no one wants to have a chit chat with you, like your words themselves are going to suddenly leap up and kill them or insight them to do bad things all on their own (if only I've been trying for years to find a way for my voice to kill, sadly the best I've ever accomplished is Valrym telling me if I say one more word he'll murder me, not exactly a "success").
After the first day I was gagged, as if being chained was not enough, I had to suffer like a harlot or politician (I mean at least for the harlots its all for fun, but being a politician? Fate worse than death). I resigned myself to counting the lines on the train car (Two Hundred and two if I remember right) when I heard a knock at the door. Now I had gotten used to my guards swapping out regularly, but this didn't seem like one of the intervals, I wasn't wondering about injuring myself yet, and that meant it was before noon. The guard at the door being knocked on appeared surprised as well. Cautiously he opened the door and didn't see anyone, and he kept on not seeing anyone as the blow came down on his head and sent him roughly from the train. The guard on my left (because it was the guard on my right who just got murdered), was about to call alarm when a lady stepped into the car and opened fire. One loud ringing blast resonated in the car the former guard to my left took the hit in the chest, it appeared whatever weapon she was using didn't use normal bullets as the injuries he sustained before passing out from the loss had blown open much of his chest region (I'd later learn her weapon was a shotgun, normally used for hunting birds, I bet it really stung with that guard to die to such a foul weapon).
My savior had brown skin like mine, a round face, piercing green eyes and red hair done up in a fairly elaborate bun. The hair and the care she had taken to arrange it seemed a bit in contrast to the rest of her. She was wearing furs and scales of some creature, I couldn't exactly make out which from all the mishmashery of it. She was also a rather large woman (not fat, tall I guess large can go either way), she appeared even taller and more muscular than myself (the tall being a surprise, the muscular portion sadly not). Her barrell still smoking she approached me. Aside from the shotgun, I could see the haft of a mallet/mace type weapon and an arrangement of intricate daggers, whoever she was she wasn't exactly in a polite line of work from the look of her.
"Trezlan Lorentino, Marian Ribiachi, I'm here to rescue you." It was a lovely set of words to here on the eve of ones execution.
"Fantastic did you get the keys from the guard before you knocked him off the train perchance?"
"Crap." Her look fell and so did my hopes for getting off the damn train in one piece. Did I survive? Did Marian smash one of my hands into oblivion? Do I like leaving entries on cliff hangers? All these answers and more when I write to you tomorrow little journal. Now get lost I have to deal with an annoying little shorty and I'd rather not be listfully dreaming of adventure while he tries to rip me off (and he most certainly will, try of course, no one without a pair of luscious... ideas has ever ripped me off in a trade deal).
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