Saftey is an Illusion

There's a problem with being in the same place for a while. You grow to feel safe there, for anyone else this isn't so much an issue as much as it is a "feature" of the society they integrate with (busting out the big words today).  I am not most people, so when I feel safe its probably best to assume I am not, and so with this in mind I left my shop completely unarmed (well aside from my magic but you know there's just something more comforting about cold weirdly blue steel as opposed to magics wildly different results). You can probably see where this is going.

I hit up most of my normal above board contacts early, the usual suspects of apothecaries, witch doctors, that guy who claims his oil will fix everything (it does not fix anything aside from an excess money in your pocket problem).  I was feeling pretty run down and hoping to cut through an alley to hurry things along when I was blinded, gagged, and shackled immediately (or as I like to call a little me time with some ladies of the night).  I didn't even have time to think of using magic or striking out.  A hot breath was on my ear.

"Leave this one alone Lorentino, or you'll be the next one dying." I muffled a response through my gag that I won't repeat here and then I was free.  Gag was off with the blindfold and shackles. I spun around ready to burn my brief captor, but there was no one there. I started to wonder if maybe the letter hadn't started to screw with me, which only got me to move a bit faster to my last stop of the day.

My final contact was a supposed alchemist (that being someone who believes they can change metal into gold, now I've seen all kind of magic, I've never seen this particular trick), he lived underground through a couple sewer passages to hide his craft (mainly because while he couldn't do metal to gold, he was quite adept at brewing poisons and other maladies). His little hovel always smelled like bad gas from all the brewing fluids and poor ventilation.  It was surprising he hadn't killed himself already.

"Trezlan!" He looked like you'd expect someone who brews poisons and potions to look, short, fat, balding.

"Boly!" What better name for a short fat guy who mixes poisons than Boly? Its like his parents knew before he did!

"I assume you aren't here to try my holiday cider?" Boly was a get down to business kind of guy, he and I had worked together a couple times already to sort out some fairly unpleasant yet kind of boring business (you don't want to hear about killing fungal infections underneath the city? Yeah I didn't think so).

I produced the letter, "Friend of mine, well aquaintenance, well ok nevermind this guy I know got a nasty case of dying from this letter, I'd hope you'd be able to figure out what." He grabbed the letter with some tongues and took it back to his alchemy lab, I sat down in a nearby chair and waited for the verdict.  Boly for all his kindness was a secretive man, I've never actually seen where he does the majority of his work because of that.  Never really bothered me as someone who doesn't want to die gasping from air from sniffing the wrong vial of evil.

"Well good news bad news Trezlan."

"I'll take the good news first I like good things."

"The letter did not carry anything on it, its not dangerous." He tossed it back to me, I could see the edges had been partially singed.

"And the bad news would mean you have no idea whats killing that guy I know."

"Exactly, my guess would be a curse, I've seen that type of letter before when I was in Red Hand territory, group of nasty killers tended to use them as way of instilling fear and spreading their reputation." Great my fear about going crazy before was not true, instead I was mixed up with some super group of murderers.

"Fantastic, do you have anything that can help with a curse?" He tossed me a glass vial that was warm to the touch.

"Have your friend drink that, should last a couple weeks and at the very least hold whatevers killing him at bay until you can get the curse off of him."

"Or I could just let him die."

"You could do that, either way shall we settle the bill?" I frowned at Boly but rolled up my sleeve.  Boly didn't take normal payment for his services from people like me, it was always in blood. I felt needle slide in to my forearm and saw his little jar filling up, it didn't take long since I'm a strong century old guy (look I don't like to think about how old I am at times, especially when I'm looking at the ladies). Happy he gave me a small bandage to wrap my arm in and be on my way.

I didn't really want to return to Morley, whatever he'd done had probably earned him the curse, but I also didn't like some mysterious organization telling me to keep my nose out of it.  What can I say, I hate being told what I can and can't do, its one reason I'm still a necromancer, everytime someone told me "We all have to die Trezlan." I said screw that! And continue to say that till this day! So I knew even then I'd have to help Morley, if only to keep up my defiance of any kind of norms.  Once again when he kills me I'm getting the biggest I told you so in the afterlife I know it.