It was An Ambush

Ok confession time, I apparently didn't have as much of a complete story as I alleged when first starting this out.  I know bastion of honesty like myself caught in a bit of a lie is shocking to even me. See the problem is that despite my own perfect recollection of my own misadventures *cough* my past self was lying to Marian about writing down her story and instead I was half doing that, half making bad limerics and drawing really awful erotic drawings (an erotic drawing of mine is like a circle with a dot on it and a label saing "breast" because you would just assume it wasn't if I didn't label it). I still took notes, sort of.  Look all I'm saying if this is obvious that I'm having to fill in details now with past recollections of what Marian told me, well I did, because I was lazy, back then, not now, now I'm a straight dealer who would never put down lies in my journal to overinflate my own ego or abilities.  There got that off my chest now back to the actual story.

The ambush that Marian was unknowning walking into had been set up shortly outside of the bog.  Her attackers had the route and wisely chose the place where a bunch of people would be tired and run a little ragged from riding through a smelly bog in the summer would be leaving as the place to assault.  It also worked because it was the only road out of the bog in the direction they were traveling in and thus they were funneled into a clear and easy path to intercept (they could have gone another way if not for the carriage, and the fact that quicksand and deep mud could effectively kill a horse before you were aware you had a problem). It was the place Marian knew they would be at their weakest, especially with the stupid carriage behind them.  So it wasn't much of a surprise when Marian and Stuckey's horses got shot out from underneath them.

It wasn't the first time as a mercenary Marian's horse got shot out from underneath her, so she knew the drill. Her feet cleared the saddle, she rolled through the fall and brought her weapon up at the same time.  The attackers were thankfully close, probably not willing to lose their prey to a failed long distance shot.  Stuckey was not as practiced as Marian and she heard his leg shatter underneath the dead weight of his horse, his howl of pain highlighting the extent of the injury.

"Put it down girl you're beaten." The man in charge didn't look like a bandit, he was dressed in Judges clothing. The five men he had with him were all dressed in formal Red Hand outfits.  Marian had seen outfits similar to them over the years in Lork, and she really couldn't forget her initial introduction to them when she was on the run.

"We have a valid contract to escort the girl, you are interfering in private business." She looked at Stuckey who had gotten himself out of his saddle, but would need a healer soon, bone was poking out of his pants.

"I'm sure you do, but the people you are escorting are kidnappers, despite what they might have told you the councilman's niece they are secreting away is very much their prisoner." The council, the Red Hand's supreme seat of power, a bunch of incestuous rich magic users who inherit their position from the ones who came before.  In theory they were "elected" to the postion, but no one I've ever spoken to has voted for it.

"Shit." Marian tossed down her hammer and raised up her hands, Stuckey and the other mercs did the same.

"Eloquently put, you'll have to come with us of course, though we won't bind you, I assume you realize what the penalty for fleeing will be."

"Stuckey's got a busted leg, he's not really going anywhere without some kind of..." With a hand signal Stuckey was murdered by arrows, four to be exact Marian shook her head at the inhumanity of it all.

"Shall we go?" The judge indicated they move and Marian and the mercs with her didn't have much of a choice.  Marian apologized to Stuckey's corpse and got moving so she did not join him.  She knew then that things just got a lot worse and of course the worst was yet to come (as is frequent in any dealings with the Red Hand as an entity, they weren't named the Red Hand out of politeness!)

Bogged Down

"What are we doing out here?" There were four of them including Marian.  It had been two years since Marian had stumbled into Lork looking for work, she'd ditched her clothing that didn't fit and her swords that were never her style, and was now using the overly large mace I'd seen her with and a custom fit tunic with metal weave under the jacket and thick leather hide pants.  Most people had moved on from wearing traditional "armor" since magic and bullets tended to get by armor no problem, not Marian, she still believed armor should be worn, if only out of tradition.

"Because we are being paid Stuckey." They were in the middle of a bog, north of Lork in the middle of Red Hand territory.  The road they were traveling on horseback through was barely that, the bog had taken over most of the rotted wood that had been laid down for a path and so they were slogging through it at what felt like a snails pace.

"At least we have you here to remind us that Trotter is watching over us Marian, ever get tired of being his pet?" Trotter being kind to Marian had not been overlooked by the other mercs, most guessed it was because of a sexual relationship, Marian relaying this to me had such a look of disgust I didn't even need to ask.

"Stuckey I broke your jaw once for trying to sneak into my bed, do you want to me to do it again just because you can't learn to close it?" Stuckey was a loud mouth with a hair trigger temper. Marian was surprised he ever came back from any job he was sent on.  He tended to announce his presence well in advance of ever arriving and then immediately do the exact kind of thing you'd expect someone as stupid as him to do when he arrives somewhere. He also dressed flashy, bright red, Marian remarked that she always thought of him as a walking bullseye.  The other two mercs were new hires, supposedly seasoned warriors but Marian had heard that before and seen them cut down all the same, they weren't people until they proved themselves so she didn't remember who they were (not a hint or anything).

Stuckey kept his mouth shut and they kept slogging through the bog.  It was hot, since it was the middle of summer and the humidity combined with the smell made things almost unbearable. Marian appreciated the timing and location, because if it was screwing with the mercs it would be screwing with anyone who tried to assault them on their task and so it was as much of a boon as it was a bust. The job was supposed to be a simple escort, some lady was afraid of her uncle and wanted to migrate south to Ronerawth where she'd be safe.  Marian had done a variation of the work before a couple times previous, though both times they hadn't had to ride out to the ass end of nowhere to get the person to start the job, which was a strike against this particular job for being a normal kind of thing.

The arrived at the meeting point, a cross roads on a small island in the stinking awful bog.  Upon getting to firm ground Stuckey got off his horse and collapsed on the ground panting, griping about everything around them while they waited. Marian even let him sit and bitch for a bit, as he wasn't saying anything that they already all didn't feel anyway. Hours later the girl finally got there, she had an entire entourage with her including a horse drawn carriage.  Clearly she wasn't just some minor rich girl, but a job was just a job and the money was good so Marian tried to not let it bother her.

"You guys with Trotter?" That was the carriage driver asking, he was dressed for pomp that the locale really didn't support.

"Either we are or we're the worst bandits ever." Stuckey had a way with words Marian had to give that to him.

"Where's your carriage?"

"In the shop, sorry we were under the impression the client wanted to be secreted across the border, you can't secret anything in full pomp and circumstance." The carriage driver seemed to way it over and then the lady of the carriage emerged.  She looked like she was fifteen and sounded the same, she was dressed in an outfit that fit her carraige, completely unnesseccary and detrimental to the enviroment.  She was waving a small fan in front of her face as if to imply how put upon she was in the situation. Behind her servants started off loading very large chests.

"I was told I would have a full escort." Her voice spoke of priveledge and the heaviest lifting was the fan she waved in front of her face.

"You do have a full escort." She frowned at Marians reply, apparently a full escort was not four dirty mercenaries on horseback.

"How will you carry my stuff?"

"We won't, we carry you thats it, thats the deal, if you have any money take it, everything else is going to get left." The servants stopped and looked to their teenage leader for guidance, she harumphed and landed in the mud of the little island and started to pout.  Marian rolled her eyes to Stuckey and he and the other two mercs laughed a bit under their breath.

"Fine if you can't carry it we will, you were paid to escort you'll escort my carriage!" With that announcement she went back inside and her main servant looked at Marian with the contempt only priveledged servants seem to have for those who don't pamper rich ass all day.

"You heard the lady Stuckey." Marian angled her horse in the other direction to lead the doomed caravan and Stuckey swore under his breath and got on his own mount.

"You realize they'll probably easily track her down and murder her right?"

"We can only hope they leave some money for us after they do so Stuckey." And so the doomed caravan out of Dirge's Bog made their way to inevitible failure.  Yes I'm not even going to hide this behind some flowery language. No I probably couldn't make a single piece of coin telling stories.

Mercenary Life

Marian's first jobs as a mercenary were not really noteworthy.  The group she signed up with mainly provided bodyguard work for the high rollers to make sure the money they earned stayed in their pockets and didn't find its way into other peoples unless allowed (the occaisional whore, clergyman or conman and that's just the first guy! Yes I made that joke with Marian, no she didn't find it funny either). The person who hired her took a liking to her (professionally, her description of him personally came with much revulsion). His name was Trotter, he claimed his look was to scare off people assuming sell sword work was for pretty boys, but Marian said that didn't exactly explain the smell and while I didn't smell him personally her description was enough.

Trotter had lived himself a life worthy of a story from what my digging around could turn up (what can I say Marian's story left me wanting to know what she was leaving out).  He was a soldier in the Red Hand military for several of his formative years (conscripted due to criminal issues, thank whatever gods I depend on that never happened to me).  Once he served his sentence he sold his sword everywhere, including a couple stints in Ronerawth (which is probably why he took a shining to Marian, you can spot a Ronerawthian from a mile away in Red Hand territory, they are the ones who look at magic with revulsion). Trotter wound up in Lork after losing a fortune at gambling and ended up owing the robber barons there just about everything he owned. He'd been the cities liason for mercenary work for going on fifteen years and by all acounts he still had over half his debt left to pay.

I think it was that fate that he hoped Marian would avoid.  Which is what got her sent on the career defining mission she imparted to me and I wrote down as a story, and I'll get to that finally.  Tomorrow, naturally a good story tell has to have some come down from my earlier highs...

Mercenary Sensibilities

"Swords Wanted." That's what the sign read.  Marian had arrived in Lork a day previous, she had found shelter at one of the few religious buildings in Lork (the Followers of the Fire God were here amongst the gambling and debauchery, I guess to test their metal in more ways than one). She wasn't looking to join their religion despite it pretty much being how she was raised anyway.  Marian felt that following a god was a lot like following a leader who wasn't there, pretty foolish. Their stone pews weren't the easiest to sleep on, but it was warm and dry and that's all she needed.  In the morning she set out to find work, if she was going to start a new life she'd need money and the rich were always looking for sellswords, especially in a place like Lork where fortunes were won every minute and not all thievery involved gambling at a table.

There were a line of men outside next to the sign, supringly Marian wasn't the worst dressed amongst the soldiers.  Tought times had The Red Hand, especially following the failed campaigns against the savages.  Lot of people lost money in that war, and more so lot of soldiers lost contracts following the losses, in the lands of the Red Hand mercenaries were almost on par with the standing army in strength. The man in front of the sign was not rich, he looked like bathing was something that was an annual affair and he only had teeth on the right side of his face, the left looked like someone had grinded a shield into it. A dull lazy eye appraised each perspective canidate, most were waved off.

"Next!" Marian stepped forward at his bark.  She had hung the swords in her overly big belt, it was a poor method for keeping them in place and with each step she worried they'd clatter to the ground.

"Marian Ribiachi."

"Did I ask for your name? No I did not. And when we say swords we mean sell swords, not sword swallowers, I think you're looking for the whores up the street." His voice and breath matched the rest of him, ugly.

"I know you're probably an expert at whores with a face like yours..." Marian did not get to finish her rebuke the ugly barker drew his own blade, a strange curved sword like a snake only a lot sharper. Marian while not exactly prepared to throw down, was never truely at rest especially since she'd arrived. Both her own swords, more standard broad sword types came off her belt and parried the curved sword of her adversary. He may have looked like crap and smelled like he bathed in it, but his swordsmanship was spot on.  The rest of the wannabe sellswords formed a sort of circle around Marian and the curved swordsman as they did their dance, exchanging blows and steel neither one getting the upperhand over the other.

"So what's your plan girl kill me and hope they hire you?" His voice was all confidence but Marian could see the exhaustion in it.  He may have been a capable swordsman, but she had youth on her side as she was easily half her age.

"I figure if I can kill you, then they should be able to recognize my abilities and know they've hired the right woman for the job." Marian herself was tired, she hadn't really had a duel like this since her father had passed, and she never beat him even when they did fight. The curved swordsman managed to disarm her left hand blade, he wrapped in a hutch on his own and sent it spinning away, when Marian looked to see where it fell she caught the hilt of his sword to her head and she hit the ground, his sword was at her throat, but only briefly. He withdrew it and sheathed the blade and offered her a hand up.

"You're tough for a woman that looks like a whore and smells like a barn after the animals have left it.  Tell you what, take some coin, get some clothes that fit and a shower and come back and we'll discuss what you can do next." He was one to talk, but Marian had already chanced fate enough with her mouth as is.  She accepted his coin pouch and shook his outstretched hand.  "Welcome aboard Ribiachi."

Road Problems

Marian had more than a few problems after killing Rive (and obviously one less).  She was in the lands of the Red Hand with no real knowledge of the place other than from her Ronerawth upbringing that everyone there is a magic sympathizer who consorts with demons (its the perception and not far from the truth). She had new clothes to replace her rags, but they didn't fit properly, despite Marian being a very man sized woman, mens clothing is not designed with a females body in mind.  And while she had some weapons (two swords and a bow) she didn't have a way to properly carry them, so she had the bow strung up (despite that being bad for the bow itself while you are craying it) and kind of hanging off her shoulder, with a quiver of arrows and the two swords in her hands.

You can imagine a woman carrying weaponry wearing ill fitting clothing probably was not looked at favorably, especially in the Red Hand areas which weren't exactly known for their welcoming attitude towards women (though to be perfectly honest neither is anywhere I've ever been). To her credit Marian knew it was best to follow the main road, but not be on it.  Especially since there were in theory six other soldiers looking for her as a spy. So she tried to sleep by day, and walk at night.  It worked for the most part to keep her out of sight of any Red Hand people.

She eventually made her way to Lork, which in the time since I'd last visited it had returned to the land of debauchery and horrible it always was (comes in cycles, Lork gets cracked down on, it takes the nasty underground a few years later its back in full swing).  Lork was the perfect place for a warrior on the run to hideout and plan for her next move, and its a great place to end this entry.  Tomorrow I'll go over how Marian hit up Lork, hilariously thats actually pretty literal.

A Marian Solution

"What's your name anyway?" Marian had attempted to smash the door with her shoulder for a few minutes, it was not budging, whatever they had blocked it with was there to stay.

"Finally care enough about me to not want to just say you and point?" Liar Stache had not lent his shoulder to the attempt to smash the door, Marian noted it would not have helped, but she still judged him lower for not at least trying.

"Just want to know what to carve into the tiny board I'll shove into the ground after killing you." Marian had moved beyond the door and started to walk deeper into the crypt.  She wasn't sure there would be a way out, but it was better than staying by the closed entrance and hoping it would open.

"Is what I did to you really so awful?" Marian paused for a moment, Liar stache who had been following behind her almost ran into her full tilt. She spun around like a practiced fighter and had the sword at his throat.

"Gee I dunno you told a group of Red Hand soldiers I was a spy so you wouldn't be executed alone, for all you knew I was an escaped slave or survivor of a caravan attack, but you turned on me all the same.  Frankly your lucky I don't just cut your throat and leave you to rot here." Marian highlighted the word cut with a small slash on Liar stache's throat.

"I know a way out!"

"You're just saying that to save your life."

"Let me go and I'll show you I promise you, we use these crypts as a way to pass information most of this is fake to throw off The Red Hand." Marian's hand wavered for a moment and then she lowered the sword, Liar Stache breathed a sigh of relief.

"You show me the way out of here, and just so you don't leave me into some kind of trap, you go first." Marian did not trust Liar Stache (as if my name for him was not indicating that already) and kept her sword at the ready while Liar Stache navigated the narrow corridors.

"My name is Rive by the way, you asked for my tombstone." He said in a bit of a jokey voice, but Marian could tell Rive was terrified she actually meant she would kill him. The crypt was as he said though, past the initial entrance there were more well worn foot paths in the dust and the smell wasn't quite as bad.  Rive pulled on a torch and a wall segment slid away and inside were some weapons, and food. The room had a small writing desk and some paper, probably for the spy reports.  Beyond it was another door which lead to a small chamber and another false wall that lead them out.  No traps.

"See I'm not always a liar! Now you are free to go abou..." Rive's words were caught as Marian's sword imaled him through the ribcage, she twisted the blade for good measure and the his voice died with his lungs. She had promised she would kill him and lived up to her bargain, even etching his name in a small wooden marker above his shallow grave (I checked this location once to see if Marian was telling the truth, the writing was worn, but it was exactly where she said it would be).  Marian went back into the spy's cave and aquired rations and weaponry.  They too had no bullet weapons, but she found a bow and sturdy arrows, no armor either, but there was a change in clothing, so Marian could rid herself of her bloody house dress she escaped Ronerawth with. Along with the weapons, food, and clothing was a small cash supply she appropriated.  It wasn't much, but it was a start and for Marian after what she'd been through that was enough.

Cryptic

"You're awfully calm for someone about to die." Marian was in the back of a wagon with another prisoner, both of their hands were bound. There was a small troop of soldiers walking behind the wagon, overall a group of 8.

"I'm no spy and I'm sure once I speak to the magistrate or local law they'll let me go." Marian was confident despite the law failing her in Ronerawth that it would be better in the Red Hand lands (which to me speaks to how much Marian had no idea about the Red Hand, not very surprising for someone raised in Ronerawth post the Divide going up).

"Sure you just keep thinking that all the way to them burning you alive for being a spy." The man across from her was smaller than her in every way, height, weight, muscle tone, he was her opposite. He was also pale skinned to her light brown, Marian also made a point to mention to me repeatedly about his mustache, it was thin and showed him to be untrustworthy (I didn't delve into this facial hair trust worthy scale she seemed to be working on, but I'm sure there was a story here I wasn't getting).

"Why would they even think I'm a spy, do they often get spies in house rags crossing the border?"

"Because I told them you were my contact." Obviously in this case Marian's facial hair trustworthyness scale was absolutely correct.

"You sniveling lying bastard, when I get out of this I'm going to kill you."

"Well at least we'll be out of it first." The man with the liars stache had a smug look on his face. Marian was fuming, but he did have a point, for her to kill him she'd have to get out of their current predicament. Marian weighed the options, her binding was tight, but not impossible to break, there was just the little problem of the two wagon drivers and the six soldiers following behind. Much like killing the liar though, these were problems after the first one was solved. Marian moved to the front of the wagon, the guard next to the driver turned to tell her to get back and got his neck broken for his trouble.  The driver turned to see Marian snatch up the other guards sword and then he saw nothing else as she decapitated him. Behind her she could hear the other soldiers alarmed by what had happened to their comrades.  She snagged the reins from the dead driver and urged the horses to go faster, unfortunately she hadn't seen the road ahead curved to the right and the horses drove right off a ridge.

"Are you trying to get me killed?"  Liar Stache asked behind her as the cart picked up speed on the horses, who broke their harnesses and left the cart to its fate. 

"Yes," Marian tried to reach out for the break, but wasn't fast enough, the cart itself collided with some stone and with a crunch Marian and Liar stache were thrown forward on to some thankfully soft grass. Marian got to her feet, dazed and her vision blurred by a wound on her head that was dripping into her eyes.  She could hear the soldiers up above, thankfully the Red Hand scorned bullet weapons so they were having to make do with bows and apparently they hadn't been to the range in a bit. Still Marian realized even the worst archer could get lucky.  She started moving towards what looked like a ruin of some kind and Liar stache who had unfortunately survived grabbed her arm.

"Don't go in there, its a crypt!"

"What are you worried about some kind of ritual magic? You Red Handers so scared of the dark, no wonder those savages messed you up."

"Its only got one way out most likely the entrance we'll be going in, they can just rush us!"

"In a tight closed space they lose their numbers advantage, what kind of solider are you?" Marian rushed forward, an arrow winged near her ear as if to prove her point about lucky archers. Liar stache rand after her despite his misgiving about the crypt and they made their way inside.  The cave was just the initial entrance, past that there was a stone door that lead further in, feeling that was the better way to funnel the enemy Marian pushed hard on the door and it slid gradually open, the smell wasn't overwhelmingly unpleasant, but it definately spoke to dust and corspes slowly turning to dust in the dark.  Light was provided by some strange stones adorning the walls in intervals, Marian figured they were a simple spell probably so that a grieving relative didn't join the dead too soon in lieu of having a torch.  The walls were fairly narrow and lined with bodies in different stages of decay. Small gifts of coin and words were laid next to specific ones though none of these again seemed recent.

"Well great you've trapped us, I guess when we die we are in a convient place." Marian didn't comment on Liar Stache, she cut her bindings and made ready for the soldiers standing a bit back from the door, the sword in her right hand held in front of her, left hand slightly behind it to disarm another weapon. No one game, she heard people outside the door, but the door wasn't opening. Apparently along with archery, bravery was not as kill the Red Hand instilled in their army.  Marian shrugged at Liar Stache, then the crypt rattled with an explosion.  Marian tried the door but wasn't surprised to find it no longer opened.

"Ok, now we're trapped."

Marian Ribiachi Born to Fight

Unlike other stories I relay to you, this one I had written years and years ago.  I actually didn't remember writing this until when going through my piles of junk from my Rolak days (including finding my old paperweight skull, I love that skull) and I happened across this horribly written tale about Marian (see she was right I would have forgotten).  Now its not to say the tale itself is horrible, just that my handwriting over the years has not ever gotten better, so transcribing this is a real pain.  Which doesn't speak well for me having to transcribe my journal should I live to when an easier method of writing things becomes available. Details!  Anyway I'll write this thing in parts because its hard to on my eyes reading my hand writing and I'm lazy as all hell as usual (you think I break up entries by day for no reason?).  Enough of me delaying here is the first part of Marian's story.  Enjoy whoever you are that reads this probably after I'm dead!

     Marian Ribiachi was the child of warriors.  Her father was a captain in the Ronerawth army, her mother was a mercenary hired by Ronerawth to clear out some bandits where she met Marian's father and thus started their knockdown drag out romance.  Before Marian could crawl she had a weapon in her hands, by age ten she was able to beat trained soldiers in duels, by age sixteen was considered a part of her father's personal bodyguards and paid a stipend from Ronerawth proper.

Unfortunately like most people involved in politics, the winds changed and suddenly her father went from being a conquering hero, to a treasonous traitor and he and her mother were both executed when Marian was twenty. Marian herself avoided the execution personally by marriage.  I guess when given the option between marrying someone or dying she chose poorly (I made this joke when Marian told the story to me, she hit pretty hard after laughing). She was married to one of the new emperor's second cousins who ruled over a small town near the Divide.

Despite being forced into the arrangement Marian decided she'd try and make the arrangement work.  Until he tried to hit her for not cooking food properly, she said she was happiest when she heard his neck snap (didn't realize till now how creepy that sounds). Fleeing from Ronerawth across the border before she was found out, she actually got caught by a Red Hand patrol who surpringly were actually enforcing their southern border (I was shocked to find this out at the time, seeing as I constantly back in the day would jump borders like it wasn't actually enforced).

And so Marian was bound and lead deeper into Red Hand territory, accused of being a spy and set for execution, and thats where the real story beings. Tomorrow.  I told you I'm lazy.

The Story of Marian

"You plan on living forever right?" Marian had stopped into the shop looking for new shoes, well that's what she claimed at the time.  But now as we sat across from each other at one of the mid range taverns in Rolak I got the feeling there was something more here. She looked thinner than the last time I saw her, but that could have just been she wasn't wearing bulky armor now and just had her double barrell and ridiculous mace, both were placed leaning up against the table in the back where we were sitting.

"Say that a little louder you know its not like people don't draw and quarter my kind enough as it is." Contrary to what you'd think if you're reading this journal, the entire world does not know I'm a necromancer.  Most people think I'm either a conman using an old name and appearance to steal a fake legacy (can you believe people don't believe the things I've personally accomplished? Yeah it shocks me too) or that I'm an ancestor keeping a family tradition going. It helps that I pay to keep this rumors going, you know just in case some anti magical anti necromancer jerk gets a bug up his ass about me.

Marian smiled a bit, "Trezlan now why would I ever risk you being drawn and quartered for being a horrific monster."

"You're all heart Marian, so what do you want? I don't think this is all about shoes." As nice as my selection of shoes are, even I can admit they aren't that nice.

"Well unlike you Trezlan I'm not going to live forever, but I don't want to go unremembered another stoneless grave in the middle of a battlefield."

"So you want me to remember it?"

"Well I'd prefer you write it down, I don't think you have that good of a memory." Its true I tend to forget more than I've ever known.

"I dunno if I can write you're entire life story Marian, I mean that would be like an unending book, you aren't even dead yet." *cough* Obviously my own personal story is exempt from this rule.

"Well I really don't want you to write the whole thing, but I think I have a fairly interesting story you yourself wouldn't mind hearing and if you could write it down in that awful chicken scratch of yours I'd appreciate it."

"How much will you appreciate it?"

"I'll buy your drinks until I'm done talking."

"You've got yourself a deal Marian, just need to go find a pen and a book or something..." She produced both and a capped ink well.  Clearly she was prepared.

"Ok, now tell me all about you Marian, and don't leave out the juicy parts, I err people, love the juicy parts..."

Finley Island Wrap Up

It took me two months to actually leave Finley Island (thankfully there were other food stores that once the fog cleared we could get to).  Despite there being an actual ship on the island the weather really turned awful and none of the remaining workers were that good of sailors to actually get the damn thing going. So we waited and waited, and eventually Hanlon sent ANOTHER envoy to the island who thankfully found it free of evil fog monsters.

The missing men were found deep in the mine where they got ore, all dead and in various states of being eaten. Apparently whatever the old hag was, you can add creepy cannibal to the list. We also found a journal written in a language I still can't read. I figure it was some detailed list of all the horrible things she did while remainig in some overwhelming fog creature form. One day I'll probably find out its like a cookbook or a diary detailing how she really liked this factory worker that never looked her in the eyes or something.

As far as the fog creatures, apparently they were unique to the person seeing them (why I saw sea creatures instead of the untold number of horrors I've witnessed? I'll never know). You'll notice I say I have no idea about a lot of stuff, because honestly as your humble observer while I try and give you the idea I'm omnipotent I'm clearly not, or I would have never gone to Finley Island in the first damn place!

All said and done when I returned to my shop my shorty companions hadn't burnt the thing to the ground.  They had actually stewarded it well, it stunned me too at the time.  Honestly I've found that shorties are some of the best workers specifically because hehe they have been sold short on their abilities.  Hanlon also owned up to his part of the bargain and I was able to purchase weaponry from him, and not just the cheap crap everyone else in town had, but some of the really nice boutique level weaponry the noble customers loved. It was a good time to be me, all things considered, though shortly after returning I picked up a fairly nasty cold that did not leave me.  So while I was doing good everywhere else, I was miserable with the illness. I'm sure Morley would laugh that I didn't just kill someone to cure myself, but I'm not a total monster! Just you know mostly one.

Tomorrows entry will be the start of a bit of a different one, I'll explain of course, but my little journal you are in for a real treat!

Dragonversationalists

Dragons are scary.  They are large, breathe magical horrible stuff, have huge claws that can rip things up, or tails that can break you in half with a swipe.  They come in all shapes and flavors, so its not a huge surprise the overall creature responsible for the fog was a dragon.  How it was doing it or why my explosion hurt it is a debate for dragon scholars (they exist I think maybe?), all I knew is that the creature was there in front of me now and looking to eat me.  Or it was until it transformed into an old woman, the snarling huge grey transparent beast fell away and an old hag in tattered rags remained.  Her body looked frail, and I could clearly see a rather large wound that she was cradling right under her heart.

"Traitor!" Her voice was strained, I could see a spittle of blood erupting with each breath, she had been badly wounded. Which explained why the dragon illusion fell away.

"I fail to see how I'm a traitor?" I was kind of confused by the accusation, but I've come to expect everyone to accuse me of being a traitor whether I'm on their side or not (though over the years I've betrayed quite a few people, so its not like its an accusation without merit).

"You side with butchers, you are one of us! And you betray us to go with them! Them and their pistols and rifles! We used to be gods! Now, now they can turn any peon in the world into a god, and you side with them!" The invention of better firearm technology has lead to this sentiment all over, in the Red Hand territory prior to the war that would dislodge them from power firearms were strictly controlled, even more so than magic users because of the danger TO magic users. Personally it never bothered me, I guess I saw the equalization of power between the two would more likely lead people to fear magic less. Which never has happened by the way, if anything people fear magic more despite having similar power on their hips, but alas being able to set a person on fire with a simple hand wave tends to scare someone more than having to pull a trigger.

"And you murdered people who did you no harm because they merely supply the instrument of destruction.  You and I are an example of why they make these weapons old hag, the difference of course being I stand with the weapon makers and you stand in their sights." She charged, an old frail creature desperate for revenge against the world for moving on without her. It was a cleaner death than she deserved, my sword sliced her head off and sent it rolling near the blackened crater of my black powder explosions. Her blood was a black fluid that flowed with viscosity of tar.  Whatever she was, it was probably best that I killed her before she could harm more people. I'm sure someone would say the same of me, but everyone who had that sentiment is pretty much dead or dies shortly after thinking it, funny old world isn't it?

And thus ended my time on Finley Island.  I'll write a wrap up tommorrow so you can find out how I left, what happened to the missing people, etc etc, I'm sure you're excited.  I'm excited!

Boom Goes the Fog Monster

"You think this will work?" We had gotten into the factory and aquired barrels of black powder, I say we but it was really me and the rest sitting at the door looking on like the damn cowards they are. I was currently overloaded with the stuff.  Stretched to my limit with each overwhelmingly heavy barrel, I worried for a moment that the lantern I was carrying would set one of these off.  It was only a moment though because honestly if it set it off its not like I'd be around to complain about the result.

"No, but its not like we have a lot of choice honestly, food's running out and doubly so with me here, and no one else is coming.  It's this or we go out there and try and curse it away." Cursing something away sounded hilarious, but I was sure I didn't actually want to try it (still haven't, or I haven't found that in cursing something with words it actually does anything, there are blood curses that can be quite useful, though probably not on fog creatures). My logic unassailable they opened the door enough to basically toss me out in the fog and shut it behind me.  I heard the latch set before I could even turn around.

The idea was simple in theory. The fog was one large creature, each part of it could be hurt individually with a bit of fire and explosion. So spread enough of those explosions out and you'll kill the whole creature (again if they were right about the beast, I had my doubts obviously not enough of them to not try).  The creatures in the fog were still there they had been cloistered near the doors, as I walked they followed just outside of lantern light.  I got far enough away from the factory (because my black powder wasn't the only black powder there and if I blew up the factory I don't think that Hanlon would be too happy), and set my first deadly charge of black powder, I had a total of five kegs loaded up on my back, and I had to hope they'd be enough.

With my first charge laid I uncorked the next one and started dragging it towards the next spot.  I figured a large circle do the most damage (a killing blow as it were).  Also it allowed me my best chance to actually set fire to the damn things. So I drew my circle of black powder all the while the fog creatures seemed to keep their distance as if in curiosity. I made my to the middle (When blowing up a circle of blackpowder, what safer place to be than in the middle of it you ask? well anywhere really). And placed the lantern on the ground.  I could hear the creatures around me, feel the tiredness seeping in.  With a flourish of my hands I lit of circle of fire around me, it burned the grass and lightened the fog, the creatures recoiled back.  With the fog drawn back I could see one of my kegs and willed it to ignition.  I've heard loud things before, this was one of those.  The first keg exploded and the next four followed with it like a really simple game of explosive dominoes. As loud as the black powder explosion was, a roar echoed above it. And the fog all receeded.

I was about to congratulate myself on another job well done when I heard something (ever so fainlty over the ringing in my damn ears) crunch to the earth behind me.  I turned around my sword raised to see an opaque looking dragon, its eyes full of murder.

"Crap." Was about all I could think of, and if I wasn't fast enough, crap was all I was about to become.

On Fog and Its Monsters

"How do you plan to kill the creature?" My initial questions had failed to really inspire confidence in the workers.  I had been slinking around in the factory listening to try and make heads or tails out of whats going on outside I heard nothing.

"Which one the fog has several hundred?"

"The fog is a creature! How did you not know that?" I dunno maybe because I just got there you words I don't want to write out!!! I swear people think just because you were brought there to help them you'll know everything about everything!

"Well that explains why when I burned down the train station the creatures stopped attacking." My mind was racing there had to be a solution here. There's always a solution if you look for it hard enough, I just had to.

"You burned down the train station? Why would you do that?" I had started pacing, if fire could hurt the creature, and it spread all over the island enough fires could potentially kill it. And then it struck me like a rifle round.

"Where is your supply of gunpowder?"

"In the factory, but the creatures all over that, we've only got this one section."

"I've got a solution to this you'll just have to trust me, now how do I get into the factory proper..." I'm sure you can figure out what I planned on doing.  Even then I wouldn't even know if it would work, or if the workers were right and the fog even was a creature.  But as a magic user of fire, when all you've got is fire, you tend to see everything as something to burn.  And works half the time normally. Of course the other half is some horrific creature from beyond the... you know nevermind just know I'm mostly right. Mostly.

Finley Fogging

"So did you distrub some ancient burial ground?" We had moved past the "who are you? How are you going to help us? Why do you look so ravishing?" stage of getting to know each other and straight into the lets figure this crap out phase.

"Nope." The lead worker named Busty (totally not making that up, he's a man named busty) was the defacto leader, the rest of his crew had returned to their positions along walls grumbling about their fate.  I could see they all seemed to be sleeping in the loading area, it was well lit and for the first time in a while I didn't feel the slow ache of tiredness prevalent everywhere else.

"Perhaps you recently found a relic of strange origin?"

"Nope."

"Killed of a group of wandering mystics because they were in your area?" I was running out of ideas of course.

"No, Mr. Lorentino were you sent here to help us or just bother us with your prattle?" I could sense his frustration, it was also my frustration. They had to have done something horrible! Evil Fog doesn't just show up, its completely not the way things are done! I started pacing, even though I was tired (just from having been up all this time).  There had to be a solution here and I just wasn't seeing it. I did learn that the fog had shown up months ago, that it was just a weird weather thing to start and then as days turned to weeks it got worse.  People didn't start dissappearing till a couple months ago, by then the remaining workers knew something was wrong.  Any attempt to leave the island has failed.  In the end the remaining workers had camped out in the factory hoping that someone would come save them.  I could tell from their supplies they had about a week to before they'd all be dead from starvation.  Which meant I had less than a week to fix what was wrong or I'd be dead from starvation. Well in theory I mean I'm sure I could steal the life of survivors long past the food being gone, but killing the people I'm supposed to save is not exactly following orders now is it?

Yes I had to convince myself that I truely did only have a week, I'm a horrible person ok I believe I've covered this!

Let Me In

There are few things in this world that gets you to push yourself harder than fear.  Ordinarily I probably would have taken a day or so to get that stupid push cart to the factory, but with all the creatures in the fog snarling at me as I went my arms pumped faster than I believe they ever have or would.  I dunno if it was the speed, the lamp, or the previous fire, but I didn't run across any my fog creatures.  I could see them as I went, I could hear them, but they didn't actively try and stop me. There was a problem with hammering on the pump like it was my entire life, the cart itself had no brakes, this wouldn't seem like an issue until you remember the train that normally ran on these tracks would still be ON THE TRACKS!

*CLANG* I didn't see the train engine before I collided into it, I was roughly tossed off my handcart and to the cold ground below.  The fog like a snake swirled around me, I could see multiple shadows approaching as I hobbled to my feet and made my way back to the handcart to grab my lantern to fend off the creatures. Even though I was tired from the fog, from hammering that pump, and just in general from not having slept in what felt like a day (you can't tell it never got lighter or darker in the fog) I still ran like the creatures of the abyss were after me, probably because they were. I snatched the latern in one hand and started at a dead run past the train I collided with hoping that the factory was not too far beyond it (because if the train had just stopped dead in the middle of the Island I was really really screwed).  Thankfully the factory was beyond it.  The double doors that looked to lead to a loading dock were most definately shut, they were also heavy metal on top of that so I couldn't just burn my way in.  I hoped someone was inside or the doors weren't locked as I could feel the creatures chasing me now.  I collided with the door and frantically tried to open it, locked!

"Leave us be foul creatures!" A voice called from behind the metal.

"I'm not a foul creature you imbecile open the door they are coming!" I'll admit asking someone to open a door because you are about to be taken by creatures thereby risking themselves as well as you is not exactly a plan A type situation.

"How do I know you are not one of them?" The fog was closing in, out of desperation I smashed the lamp on the ground and drug the oil in a half circle in front of the door, with a snap it was ignited buying me at least a little bit of time, the creatures hissed in the dark at the light.

"Because I'm talking!" I thought it was a valid reason.

"They can talk too you know."

"Open the damn door before I blast it open!" Hollow threat, but enough to get the lock going.  The door was barely parted before rough hands snatched me and drug me inside to a very well lit dock area.  I was surrounded by a group of men, all with guns pointed at me. The leader of these a guy covered in bandages and whose voice I recognized from his interrogation previous was lead, the pistol in his hand trembled.

"Who are you?"

"Trezlan Lorentino, I'm here to rescue you!"

"Yeah? And who's going to rescue you?"

Burning through the Fog

A lot of things go through your head when you are stuck in a closet by a one clawed fog creature that can't die (not that its a common scenario or something, but still).  Like "when was the last time someone cleaned this closet?" or "What is in all these little viles of weird stuff?" you try not to focus on the creature trying to bust through the door. Admittedly this is easier to do when you aren't stuck in a small closet (like one time I got trapped in my study, took me a couple hours to actually deal with the situation, though that wasn't some seafood monster, that was some crazy salesman lady, sadly she was harder to get rid of).  The creature sensing me trying to ignore it away burst it's claw arm through the door right above my head (thank the gods I'd turned my head to try and make out a label for something prior, see procrastination saves lives!)

See the thing about being a magic user is that sometimes when you are startled you can have an accidental reaction.  Its why doing little spook scares of someone who can conjure fire, is a horrible damn idea! When the claw burst through the door fire exploded in the closet which ignited the cleaning chemicals, I went from being safe if not trapped to being in the middle of a damn flaming inferno. As a plus the excess light made my attacker momentarily distracted/disappeared, as a negative the fire spread fast and soon the whole station was burning. Which kept the fog at bay, at least (and drove the weird claw creature back).  It also kind of drove away the sleepyness, not exactly something I could capitilize on because THE ENTIRE STATION WAS ON FIRE!!!

Sadly this showed me the train was not in the station (naturally), but a hand cart was.  With lantern in hand and the building burning all around me I made my way to the cart dodging flaming debris as I went.  The cart was the standard type if you've ever seen one (if not basically a small train car with a central pump handle to drive it forward and a pole to hang a lamp on).  I didn't have time to really do anything other than hang the lamp, sheath my sword and start hammering away at the pump to move the cart as far away from the station as possible. Thankfully no seafood monster attacked me while I got away from a completely accidental fire that destroyed the train station.

In the game of winning and losing I'd won a train cart to move on hopefully towards the factory (if the tracks hadn't been destroyed along the way that is).  I'd lost all the supplies I'd had to leave behind at the dockmasters office, destroyed a train station, and was literraly on a track to perhaps my own destruction. Another thing I discovered? Manual labor freaking sucks, pumping that handcart down the track was so much exertion.  I knew at the time I was not taking another job for adventuring if they couldn't tell me how much actual effort was needed! A policy I continue to fail at to this day.

Riders on the Fog

-Lost Ronia today, she was right next to me on the way back to the shack and then she was gone.  Didn't hear a scream or a shot just gone.  The fogs getting worse now, used to be able to see things in the distance, now I can't even see in front of my own face. Fatigue is back I can't place it really, probably related to the fog, when I'm in light I feel better, outside of it tired like I'd worked all day.  I don't know how many other people are left, I'm going to try and make the factory today, I think I saw the train still at the station.  Whatever gods are out there guide me, wait I heard someone at the door, maybe its Ronia?

--Final entry of the Dockmaster of Finley Island

My wards were not holding.  I mean to an extent they were, they kept firing off frying whatever tried to enter and then leaving not a damn trace of whatever tripped it to begin with. Combined with the tiredness (the journal was right light did make it go away a little bit, but either the fog had gotten stronger or light weaker, it only seemed to stem the tide a small bit) I knew my time in the dockmasters office would not be long if I kept there.  On top of that I wasn't hired to just sit and hopefully wait out the problems on Finley Island, I was hired to solve them, so that was what I intended on doing.

I gathered up what supplies I could fit and still be mobile, made sure the oil in the lamp was as stocked as it could be and set out.  I could see the shadows in the fog again, I knew it wasn't just my eyes playing tricks and the dockmasters journal confirmed that.  Whatever they were they didn't make a sound.  My own boots thumped on the wooden dock with each step no matter how carefuly I made them, but these creatures flittered about like some kind of bird or winged creature (maybe they were? I had no idea at the time). I kept the lamp in my right hand and my sword held in front with my left, visions of some silent killer that didn't really exist picking me off before I could see it danced in my head.  I made it off the dock I'd come in on and to the concrete beyond it, I saw signs of people leaving in a hurry, crates, clothing, and spoiled food lay spilled all over.  The fog seemed to fight my every step, getting thicker as I went in deeper, but the dockmaster had mentioned a train and I figured if it was still there maybe I could get it running and have a rolling light source all the way to the factory (modest hopes).

It was this kind of optimism that had me looking up and not down and I tripped over someones spilled luggage and came crashing to the ground.  My lamp shattered (so the luck that I had in the asylum was lost in this horrid place), igniting the the oil spreading out from it and actually providing more light than I had previously. This was a blessing and a curse as I now saw one hulking sea creature approaching me. It had two legs, one huge claw (on it's right side) and tentacled face.  I've never been one for eating sea food so I have no idea if this was a larger creature that normally exists in the water, or some ugly hybrid.  All I know is that it looked to want Trezlan tar tar and I'm not a big fan of being eaten (I didn't have time to figure out how the hell this creature was able to be quiet up until my lantern illuminating it, sue me I was kind of in a rush). I tried to think fast, I conjured fire with my now free right hand and launched it at the creature.  It vanished! I was about to cheer (silently, you know a little pep cheer in my head), but the creature appeared again closer this time, like I'd blinked and it had moved.  Suddenly I recalled my runes killing things and not actually killing them.

I'll admit I fled, I didn't care where at the time.  The smart move probably would have been towards the dockmasters office, but I've stated many times never been one for the smart move.  Plus with the fog I really couldn't figure which place I was running, its surprising I didn't end up just running into the water and potentially drowning. By whatever luck I run my life by I managed to make it to the abandoned train station (it wasn't really luck in my running I found light and ran toward it). The problem became of course that the station was meant as a transfer place not exactly a closed in location, so while the lights were there it was also covered in fog, so potentially the creatures.  I didn't have a lot of time to plot out a path, I just snagged one of the hanging lanterns made my way for a door, opened it and shut it behind me. It was only after I looked inside I realized I'd basically hid in a small supply closet.  Whatever creature was pursuing me (if any) slammed at the door behind me closing off another attempt to find a better locale.

So plus's I was where the train was supposedly, minus's I was trapped in a closet with a creature smashing against the door.  So like two steps forward three steps back type situation.

Outlook Appears Foggy

I believe I have mentioned before my observation skills are poor.  I've also mentioned how I frequently find myself in situations that I could have probably understood a bit better if I took a minute to assess things? Yeah Finley Island was no exception here.  Remember how I mentioned the fog? Well hours after sunshine should have burned it off it remained.  In fact if anything it got denser as the day went on. Along with the fog came whispers.  Not loud ones, but I know I heard things out there (and not just me going crazy, I know crazy this wasn't me gonig crazy.

I wanted to read the journal of the former dockmaster but I was struck with such a malaise any simple action was difficult to do.  I barely drug my trunk into the office and scrolled some sigils on the entry ways when I felt the overwhelming desire to take a nap. I wrote it off as having worked hard already and when I woke up the fog would be clear and I could explore.  But when I woke hours later the fog was still hanging around and I was still tired like I hadn't slept at all. I wondered if I was getting sick, if that's what had happened on Finley that some super illness had spread and killed everyone off, but I didn't feel sick, just tired.  And it wasn't like the Fog was natural or any illness I'd ever heard of involved some kind of fog.

No it was certainly unnatural. Fog is one of the easiest illusions to use against an enemy (well easy in that if you can actually conjure it), it especially works because idiots like myself will just assume its naturally occuring until its way too late to do anything. I felt my eyes drifting again when I heard a crash at the front door of the office and a pained scream as my sigils destroyed whatever tried to enter (the danger of ritual magic, it doesn't really discriminate friend from foe).  I sluggishly approached the corpse to find nothing there.  Like the door was open, the wood near where my sigil was scrolled was blackened from its use, but whatever had been destroyed by the magic was gone.  Like it had never existed in the first place.

I shut the door and worked a bit more magic around the frame, stronger this time since I now knew whatever was out there would try and get in. Looking out the window into the fog I could see shapes in it now, passing glimpses, but they were definately there.  And still the tiredness remained, it took all of my will to stand and watch the fog for what may be trying to eat me.  With my heart thumping in my chest I mouthed out "Shit." It was going to be a long day/night whatever the hell time it was.

Welcome To Finley Island

The boat ride was uneventful.  Aside from being cursed at and having to pretend to be a sailor (I learned nothing really, just how to hold a rope while some younger kid screams to hold on to it or let go of i, I imagine this is much the same way my assistants feel when they help me with sewing difficult projects), it was actually fairly relaxing, the waters were cold when they splashed into me but not too rough and we made the island within a couple days. The boatman did not help me get my trunk off his sailboat sadly, and as soon as I had hefted it off his ship he was already turning around to leave me there (which left me with the wonder of how the hell I was supposed to signal the factory was ok? Or possibly get back? I put those in the back of my mind later concerns for when I finished my task).  The dock was decently large if a little creepy since no one was there.  Hanging over the portion just past where the sailboat docked was a welcome sign to Finley Island.

We had arrived in the morning so fog was obscuring most things beyond a couple feet in front of my face.  I hauled my trunk of things down the dock with more than a little bit of physical exertion.  When I reached the abandoned harbor masters office I was read in the face and looking for a rest. The office was in decent shape, no sign of a struggle or blood or anything, just like the person who had run it decided today was the day he was done and left it.  I could see there was a journal I made note to look over after I got settled in. Outside of that the office was fairly simple, a front area with a long wooden counter with various ledgers for people to sign; behind that a cabinet with small shelves for peoples mail or messages for others (none were there for me to look over). Through a small door behind the front area was living quarters, a stove, desk with oil lamp, and modest bed.  I left my trunk of supplies there and decided to make the office my base of operations.

The fog was too dense for me to attack whatever had taken over Finley Island without risking myself the same fate of what had taken place here.  So I made due settling into the bedroom and fortifying the location with sigils and marks (look I'm an idiot but I do have some ritual magic I'm aware of that makes things safer for me, my customers don't notice it but every shop I've ever run is secured with similar ritualism).  That done I settled in to read the journal of the former Harbor master and hopefully find out where everyone went.  Lets just say that things were a little foggy as to what happened.  That's a double joke you'll get when I write my next entry!

Port O Problems

You would think a port that at one time serviced this anti magic gun factory would have a dirth of ships that would be available to take me there.  You'd be entirely wrong.  It was either the potential for storms or the strange malady that afflicted the island we wanted to get to, none of the larger commercial ships Hanlon contacted were willing to go out there (almost had me worrying Hanlon was just some crazy old guy in a robe and the island was where some mythical treasure lay buried... No thats not what happened this time, note I said this time).

At least I got to spend some time in the beautiful port city of Boloyo, and I am entirely being sarcastic.  While not as rundown and awful as others, it was an all business type place.  Inn's had cramped quarters with barely there mattresses at rates that did not seem fair for what you got as a customer. Restaurants were mostly seafood undercooked and tossed at you by someone who could care less whether you liked it or not.  All in all I would not recommend the service there for anyone, well I wouldn't who knows how Boloyo has gotten now that I'm in exile (did I mentioned I've been exiled from Ronerawth? Yeah long story I'm sure I'll end up telling it).

The old man did eventually find what looked like someones toy sailboat and a dumb kid willing to sail her out to the island.  I want to say I was encouraged by the boys attitude, but honestly it just highlighted how screwed I was in taking this job. I had my stuff loaded into what amounted to the cabin of the ship (two small cots lined with a couple crates of preserved food, not much for accomodations compared to the first class of the train) and saw Hanlon waving at me from the dock as the ship pulled away.  The boys name was Tim, but he told me his friends called him Tiller, seemed an odd name for a sailor to get, this coming from someone named Trezlan and everyone calls me by my made up last name.

Dread was the order of the day.  Much like on the train, I dreaded where we were going, why I was going there, and the fact I had to have a kid named Tiller to take me out there.  Visions of my last ship adventure came running through my mind.  I hoped that this time hopefully there would be no spider creatures.  Modest hopes indeed.

Trainversations

"And you'll be able to take care of the shop in my absence?" I was asking this of Tabitha even though she'd taken care of my shop before just not for a journey like this.

"You mean my shop when you die frozen and alone in the middle of an island? Sure I'll take care of it, have to change the name though, Lorentino part scares customers." Oh did I mention Tabitha was a bit of an ass? Yeah she kind of is, shocking I know.  I had a trunk packed with supplies and extra clothing, thankfully I was able to take a train to the dock so I didn't have to worry about trying to saddle my horse with all that crap (did have to pay a local horse cart to carry it to the train, because no way was I going to haul all that crap there by myself). At the trainyard I was met by Hanlon who handed me my ticket, it was first class (Like I deserve!).  I didn't see his two hired guards, but I'm sure they were around.  I was wearing a bit better atire, a long waist jacket some nice slacks and a button up shirt.  I had chosen to keep my sword in my luggage, because despite open carrying being fine on most train trips, I didn't feel it necessary and I thought it looked a little rougher than I wanted to present. My trunk was loaded in the rear of the train with everyone elses and a polite attendant showed me to the room I was sharing with Hanlon (no one else, first class passengers were normally afforded such fineries).  After the door shut Hanlon and I shared an uncomfortable moment of silence and then the train engines roared to life as the ticket takers barked out final commands to anyone nearby.

"It'll take a couple weeks to reach the port we need to get to." Hanlon spoke breaking the silence, he had informed me as much earlier, but I guess he felt he needed to say it again.

"That's fine the accomodations are better than the last time I was on a train." I rubbed my wrists, memories of shackles and whippings flashed through my mind.

"Couldn't afford a good trip?" Hanlon's voice was a polite gentlemanly sort, almost soothing, when he talked I had to be careful or he'd put me to sleep.

"Something like that." I didn't know how much he knew about me, and as someone with a line to the Imperial government I didn't exactly want to unload my whole life story.

"I hate Magic." It came out so point blank and fast it almost caught me off guard.  It was the kind of admission that someone wants to get out before the other person can fully digest what they said.

"I'm not really a fan myself to be honest." That disarmed him a bit, put him at ease.  I can see why someone without magic admitting to someone with it that they despise magic could make him a little worried how the sentiment would go over.

"That's why this factory is important you see."

"What did you mean by antigmagical weapons?"

"Metal with inscriptions make them completely immune to magic entirely.  You can't simply explode a magazine or rounds in the chamber, can't freeze the barrels or use some kind of wind or lightning against the user."

"I can see why that would be something you'd want to keep going."

"Indeed Mr. Lorentino, I'm sure as a user you don't see the need for us normals to worry about people like yourself, but I've seen the evil magic can do, I know its power and those who wield it are destructive forces, they must be kept in check!" His creed announced he laid down, our conversation was over.  He would do this to me a bit on our trip, announce something and then retire in front of me. Most of what he talked about was politics, hatred of magic, wanting to impose new restrictions, fear of the red hand that kind of stuff.  Hanlon was an interesting man probably hiding a couple horrible incidents in his past I never really got out of him.  I participated in conversations with him in as much as that he talked and I had to listen. For me it was a real change of pace I assure you! Still it was kind of nice for someone else to do all the talking, even if thats all he did for a two weeks as we got closer to his port, as we drew nearer I felt dread set in, I feared the train ride would be the only thing I'd enjoy and sadly I was very right...

Win/Win If you Win

I was in the back room nursing some injured hands (fell on the newly made paved sidewalks outside my shop, skinned up my hands, it wasn't too painful or lasting an injury but made things like sewing a real pain). I made due by just trying to sew easy stuff, like frills on a jacket (everyone wanted frills that year, I used more lace for mens jackets than I did for ladies underwear truely the saddest year for tailoring ever). In the years since the revolution and my ill concieved adventure to madness (I normally just vacation at madness).  I had hired some help around the shop, all shorties if you can believe it (I like hiring shorties, they work hard for the opportunity, fiercely loyal, and I get to feel like a giant). Having employees meant I got to actually rest every once in a while, and the better part, it meant I got to go off on damn fool adventures safe in the knowledge the shop would run without me (not that I particularly like adventuring, but I know it is my nature to be sent out to fight things). So it came as a bit of a surprise when one of my employees called me to the front. 

Tabitha was the oldest of my workers, completely self motivated.  Even when I'd offer to help her with something she'd shake me off and do it herself no matter how hard the work was.  Frankly it was nice for someone like that to be involved here, especially since I was the complete opposite about most things (Tabitha ran my books as well, because I despise accounting more than I despise helping others). So of all people who would ask for my help it would be even rarer for he to do so.  Intrigued I came to the front and was confronted by two men in suits standing next to a smaller man in a lavish robe.

"Something I can do for all of you?" I suddenly felt underdressed in my plain white shirt and raggity shorts, I hadn't expected to be needed so I was really just fiddling with some lace next to the fire place.  It hadn't gotten really cold in Rolak, but I could sense the cold coming.

"It is I who can help you." Of course the lavishly dressed one in the middle talked, they always do.  Suddenly I felt the need for my sword which was underneath the counter, sadly precious feet away from me.

"I'm not really looking to invest in any carnvials, though I'm sure the act is fantastic." Best to blow people off if you don't know who they are.  I mean its worked uhh never.

"Cute Mr. Lorentino I'm sure this wit is the reason you are as successful as you are." His voice spoke of never having been poor, all clipped and formal even in a shop that didn't exactly cater to the high class (Rolak wasn't full of poor people, but it was far enough from the capitol and other larger cities to really be more of a lower spectrum rich).

"I do fairly well all things considered, I'm sure you have an offer that can improve that?"

"That I do, my name is Tomas Hanlon of Hanlon arms, I'm sure you've seen my product before?" Hanlon arms was one of the larger private gun manufacturers in Ronerawth.  Originally they were an exclusive government contractor, but after the revolution showed that having all that power concentrated in the Empire alone was not a good idea, private gun makers expanded to making public weaponry. Hanlon's business exploded, over the last five years I'd heard a lot of interesting and terrifying things about the man and his group.

"Vaguely aware Mr. Hanlon, as much as a simple tailor could be." Have to play it close to the vest.

"Of course Mr. Lorentino, though I'm sure a person like yourself doesn't just want to be a tailor, or is the curiosities in your shops title just refer to you?"

"You want to put your product in my store? Why? There are other gun dealers in town probably better suited to this."

"Other dealers sure, and they do sell my guns, but you Mr. Lorentino are special."

"Special right, and for this priveldge of selling your merchandise you require a favor." It was always a favor, you never get something for nothing; always a price to pay.

"But of course, I have a factory, they make specialized anti magic weaponry, top of the line stuff, well they did, I've lost contact with them.  I petitioned the government to help me and was told the Ronerawth miliatry respects my issue, but could not spare anyone to help."

"And so you want me to figure out what's wrong with your factory, and for this you'll grant me the ability to sell your guns in my store." It sounded easy enough, which meant it most certainly was not.

"Exactly, win win really, you get new product and I get my factory back, I'd even be willing to comp you a couple shipments to see if you really want to sell the product to begin with."

"What's the catch?"

"Factory is on an island and with winter storms you might end up stranded there depending on how bad the storms get." Always a damn catch.

"And you realize I hate the water."

"I've been informed you have an aversion yes, but you also have an amazing ability for survival or so I'm told by my contacts, put simply you are the perfect man for the job." I hate when people appeal to my ego, its always so damn successful.

"You've got a deal, though I want this in writing!" And thus began an another damn fool journey.  I tell you I need to add a placard to all of my businesses "No damn fool request denied." Becuase honestly it seems like thats all I ever do!