Pack Your Bags

"How's business?" Councilman so and so I can't recall his name, he popped into my shop every once in a while to shake me down for political donations and talk business (so he could decide on how much to shake me down for). It was still winter, holidays were over, but the only thing I was selling was the occaisional heavy coat that lasted years so I didn't sell them very often (despite several attempts I never found a good coat that was warm that didn't last past a season, I still try though). Technically I was in this councilman's district, but its not like I ever saw a direct benefit to the pseudo bribery other than him leaving my store for a time.

"Slow." I always told him slow, even when I'm busy, because again he uses it to see how much money he can take from me.

"How slow? Because I've got a little problem I heard a person like you can solve with little issue."  This kind of thing comes up from time to time, even today in a new city in a new government entirely, word gets out that I'm a solver of stupid problems and stupid problems come find me.  Normally its reading some misforgotten language for an idiot who doesn't realize the "ancient" magic they found is actually a dirty limerick or a crappy stew recipe (not entirely their fault as I tend to sell these very things on the downlow to dirt merchants as a way to make some coin on the side, what can I say I'm not honest). Occaisionally though my reputation of slayer of beasts will arise and some misguided soul will think that their problem of the day is now my problem.

"Not that slow Councilman."

"You know its a shame you are looting this community and not really adding to it Lorentino, I heard theres going to be a vote on property tax increases coming up, would be a shame if yours went up."

"And wouldn't you know it business slowed down just enough for me to get away." Guilt trips, like normal trips always leave you feeling mildly pissed off for the journey.

"Excellent, I've heard of some merchants being harrased by a weird creature on the Northern trade routes, the town guard considers it Ronerawth militarys job to patrol trade routes, and the Empire feels its a local issue not worth military support."

"And you just can't hire a mercenary?"

"Because you are one and you won't charge will you Trezlan?" I hate when people put you on the spot and then be a dick about it knowing they have you on the spot.

"Northern trade route right? How far north?"

"Just outside of the plains where the ground becomes less grass more hard scrabble rock." With that he left my shop, he had the smug grin of someone who knew they got what they wanted at the expense of what the other person wanted. My staff still wasn't back from their holiday yet, so I gathered my supplies in silence, put a sign on the door that said "Gone Adventuring." And got on my horse and set out for the north.  I hoped it wouldn't be more than a week to take care of the issue, but I knew in my luck I'd be lucky to live at all, and not have like fifty years pass between when I set off and when I got back (You never know, could get stuck in like a time cave or something, its probably happened to someone, some time).

Saving the Saviors

"This is the thanks I get for saving you." And I'm back, not that I really went anywhere, nevermind roll with it. Morley looked at me a little too long with the hammer on his pistol locked back, he eventually decocked it and holstered the weapon in front of him.  He looked better, I guess the curse had run its course or Morley had killed someone else, or both.

"I'm sure you had nothing to do with it, actually as soon as you left I started to feel better, if I hadn't gotten sick prior to meeting you, I'd figured it was something I actually got from you." You know the sad part was, he was kind of right in a roundabout way.

"Touched Morley, but how the hell did you find me?" It was a valid question, I mean again not like I told the world "Hey I'll be kidnapped by a crazy group of cultists please come save me."

"I read the paper, saw you announced my death albeit horrifically, and figured this cult would come looking for you."

"Wait you knew about these crazy people?"

"Of course I knew, they don't know I know, but I know, I know a lot, and I even used them in the past without them knowing."  You know what I'm saying? Because I wrote that after he said it, and I'm still having trouble figuring out what he said.

"Huh?"

"Nevermind idiot lets get out of here." I wasn't about to fight Morley here, he knew the way out and I was in his debt sort of.  I mean I did try and save him! Its not exactly my fault he wasn't in any danger. I know you expected some large fight with some funny words tossed around (because I know me and thats what I would want) but honestly we skulked off like burgalars, aside from creepshow we didn't run across any more cultists (I almost think Morley persuaded them to avoid us prior and just staged the "rescue" so that I'd owe him, in fact I suspect this whole thing was a sham, a dirty damn sham! Even a hundred years later I still believe that!). He even had my sword back, see he totally set this all up!

That's the thing with Morley, he screws with me in subtle ways.  Like the other day there was no tissue paper in my entire house though I swore I bought some, I know that was Morley.  I know it, because he's petty like that. Don't look at my journal like that, I'm completely right.  Anyway blah blah blah, I made it back to Ronerawth cursed Morley's name and finished the holidays hung over from excessive drinking.  So much like every other holiday, including the murder (what can I say I have traditions too).

A Word About Shackles

Shackles are an important item to keep someone restrainted.  They come in all sorts of colors and metal types.  Some are more gilded than others, and even some are more metaphorical than actual. Restraints are important when you are engaged in slavery, law enforcement, sexual adventurism (not my thing, but you know I've heard some enjoy it).  They are especially important when dealing with magical users, as the proper shackles can prevent them from actually using their abilities. Not so proper shackles though will just make them think they are actually imprisoned, but not actually be locked up (I think you can probably guess where I'm going with this).

Yes I was fooled by my own lack of inventiveness to believe the shackles I had on were the proper type. They looked like the real thing, I had no reason to suspect they weren't the real thing! Also I'll couch this in that they are all magic eaters so I was afraid they'd just eat any spells I'd use to free myself (even if it was just one guy looking at me, and even then he wasn't really paying attention to me).  So I could use my magic the whole time and I kept myself shackled to a rock for I guess back support (we'll ignore how I discovered I could do this, because frankly it was a little embarrasing).

I waited till creepshow went to sleep watching me and quickly melted the ring holding my shackles in place and then severed the chain themselves (but not the shackles, super heated metal right next to my wrist not something I really wanted). Creepshow didn't even notice when I took his dagger and slit his throat (if I was feeling petty I would have said something about lying about killing him last, but I didn't want to alert the other magic eaters).  He also had a pistol I took, even though I'm awful with shooting a fire arm (it was a cave, I could have gotten lucky bouncing a shot).  I checked over the church to see if anyone was coming and there didn't appear to be anyone, relieved I looked for a way out. There looked to only be a single entrance in (makes sense it was a cave not exactly something constructed), it wasn't as well lit so I creeped toward it, dagger in one hand pistol in the other (dagger in my left pistol in my right). As I drew close to the mouth of the entrance I could hear someone approaching, I readied myself turned the corner and ran right into Morley sticking a gun in my face.

"Trezlan nice to see you." I heard the hammer hit back on his pistol and thought for just a moment "I really hope that isn't one of my guns." What can I say, I was worried he stole that.

Morley's Malcious Minionry

I was taken underground and chained to a rock altar (because what else could go wrong in trying to save Morley, not only taken underground but to be sacrficed on an altar). The Altar looked like it was the set up for a church of some kin, I could see stone pews around torches that were built into the stone walls.  I had to wonder if the magic eaters had made this or just killed the previous cult and taken it over.  The stone I was on was at least more comfortable than the coffin (by comparison you see, everything by comparison) and it was clean for the most part it wasn't caked in red, which either spoke to no sacrifices or cleaning after the fact. Chubby left one person to watch over me, the rest of her cult going wherever a cult goes.  I had my hands shackled over my head, my feet were free, so in theory I could roll off the altar hit the ground and hurt myself, ok so plan A wasn't exactly a winning formula.

"When do I get to eat?" Valid question when you are a hostage, depending on the answer you can determine long term strategy. If they tell you never, they don't intend on keeping you around long.

"Quiet usurper I have to watch you, not speak with you." The guy they left me was a thin creepy looking guy.  Probably the sort that was picked on a lot while growing up (and not just for being a magic eater, he looked like the kind of guy caught peaking at where women go to the bathroom).

"I'm utterly at a loss as to what you guys think I did to or for Morley, let alone to be called a usurper, if anything you should be thanking me for saving him." Outlook not very good, didn't mention food or care, most likely a day at best until they try and kill me.

"You changed him usurper, ever since he visited you he is not the Morley of old, whatever spell you cast on him has altered him forever now be silent before I cut out your tongue." I still think its hilarious they think because Morley got himself in trouble trying to mess with politics (twice in recent times back then recall Marian's story and how he thought his curse was a result of that).

"I like you creepshow, I'll kill you last." He laughed and then took out a very sharp knife. The time for talk was sadly at a close. Creepshow continued to watch me always making sure to keep the knife in view should I feel chatty again. I have to admit chained to a rock looking to only live a day or so.  I was a little worried.  I mean its not like I left a note "You can find me with the creepy magic eater cult that worships Morley." So my talks of living was more bravado than belief.  Like 90% of what I do.

Coughin in my Coffin

There are certain things you don't ever want to do in life.  Traveling in a box meant to carry your body to its final resting place is one of them (its why I've told anyone should I die burn me on a pyre do not under any circumstance bury me, yes whoever is reading this if I'm dead BURN MY ASS!).  For one they are really cramped, I understand because their normal occupants care not how things go, but I as a still living person not being able to move ones arms hardly at all is a challenge.  Add on top of that I was shackled in a damn box and you can see my discomfort in the whole process.

I also want to complain about the people who carried me (yes this is going to be an all complaints entry DEAL WITH IT!).  They were the clumsiest bunch of jerks this side of jerkington.  I know they were supposed to act like I was just a corpse, but that shouldn't include bumping into everything! I had bruises they were so clumsy, and apparently weak as they dropped the damn coffin quite a few times (or were handing it off to someone else who was clumsy as an ox!)

Now you'll probably be asking yourself "Why not just cry out and say you aren't dead?" First stupid to ask a question long after a story is over and done with (must I keep reminding you I'm writing these entries long after they are done and I'm not a ghost!) Second sadly it wasn't unique for unwilling participants to be trafficed in the Red Hand territories.  Third honestly I was kind of intrigued as to what they were going to do to me, so I kept my mouth shut to see how far the charade was about to go.

So it went that I traveled in a coffin to a dark lair of magic eaters who worshipped Morley as some kind of anti magical god.  Not my best holiday, but not my worst (yes there is a story, maybe I'll explain it someday, maybe).

An Unusual Method of Travel

"Stay back you fiends or I'll carve you up." I had drawn my sword, magic eaters almost universally don't have magical abilities themselves (thus their curse to sample others but never be able to produce it, like teachers only less suicidal). That didn't of course mean they didn't have fire arms, but it was the lands of the Red Hand, an area that hates fire arms almost as much as magic eaters themselves.  The cocking of several pistols of course told me that surpringly anti magical people in a hostile land don't really care what the hostile people think.

"Drop your sword or we shoot you dead." Chubby wasn't playing around, and I could see that their guns looked to be Hanlon specials from having sold a few myself (ironic that saving that factory now screwed me, somewhere that freaky mist dragon lady is laughing at me) which meant even if I had my magic it would do me no favor.  My sword thumped on the ground and one of the cultists clapped me in irons (oh anti magical shackles I had not missed you). Unarmed and effectively magically neutered they still kept their pistols trained on me (I guess I'm just that scary). They pushed me toward the coffin and told me to get in.

"You have to be joking me."  I mean I'd purchased something that was cheap that looked fancy, I had no idea I'd be riding in the damn thing (though I was thankful I had not aquired a body to sell the illusion like I'd intended).

"Either way you are going in it Lorentino, decide now if you'd rather be breathing or not." So I got in the coffin. There I was captured again by a cult worshipping Morley who had set a trap at my trap to capture me because they really wanted to kill me and not Morley. I tell you its like I always say, I hate when friends come over for the holidays.  Well that and "Shoo beggars if the gods wanted you to get gifts they'd have given you money to buy them!"

Not a Cult of Personality

"Morley isn't dead though, look the coffin is empty this is just a trap for the person who is trying to kill Morley, not like a real funeral!" I hate having to explain the obvious, even when it isn't readily obvious and even when I didn't actually have to... Never mind lets just move on.

"We know he's not dead Lorentino, and you are right this is a trap, for you." Suddenly I'm reminded of curse assassins telling me to leave this one alone, or suddenly being really helpful, suddenly I'm reminded that I think I left the kettle on the stove and I hope it doesn't ruin the tea (that last one is much more recent and sadly I did ruin the tea).

"So the curse you put on him..."

"Will only inconvenience him and then go away." I remember being angry I missed out on seeing Morley in misery that would go away on his own so I could mock him.  It's sad that I remember that so clearly.

"So I have to wonder..."

"Why we didn't curse kill you? Simple, we didn't know who you were other than your name, and for a curse to work you have to know the person specifically." Makes sense, your hatred fuels the curse, you can't really hate a person specifically if you never met them (well I hope, because if not I'm in real trouble). There were twenty of them including their pudgy leader.  I didn't see weapons, but I figured any cult worshipping Morley were probably magic users, potentially even Necromancers.

"Morley will be upset with you if you kill me, he's your leader after all." I was stalling trying to think of a way out, burn the tent down? A little risky could end up setting myself on fire if I wasn't fast enough to escape, same with trying to burn them all up.

"Morley does not know we exist, we are his servants from a far following his deeds to enrich ourselves."

"So you are his cult but he's unaware of you? That's really creepy." Well it was I stand by that statement (not like I don't stand by everything my mouth shoots off, which has lead me to lose a lot of friendships, well that and death, lots and lots of death). Hoping to capilize on the insult I risked burning myself to death and ignited the roof of the tent, well I wanted to, but unfortunately NOTHING HAPPENED! Their chubby leader gave me a smile that told me it was not accidental.  Now there are a couple things that prevent magic being applied, I've gone over them in the past, but there is one type I might not have mentioned, and thats magic eaters. No they don't actually eat magic like a dish, but they can block its application through whatever gods horrible curse they have been given (though judging by chubby, maybe she should lay off the magic HEY YOO HISTORY BURN!).  It didn't surprise me a cult of anti magical people would form around Morley, because honestly its kind of been his thing to murder other magical users (not like by crusade or anything, but by virtue of being damn Morley).  It was surprising they were in the damn Red Hand lands though, that type of magical vampirism (and it is vampirism, part of being a magic eater is a desire to eat magic, its like a weird drug, I've heard fairly power magic eaters actually suffer withdrawls from not eating magic regularly) is exterminated because of how dangerous it is.  Its honestly one of the only things I totally agreed with the Red Hand with, well that and magic users being gods, but you know the one thing I agreed with that didn't screw over the common people immediately.

"That was delicious Lorentino." The whole group looked high.  Which was worse, because not only did that mean they were all probably magic eaters, it also meant I couldn't use my one get out of jail free card (figuratively, though I have exploded a few jail cells in my day).

"Crap." Its really all there is to say.

The Funeral of Morley

As you can see from my short inscribed post from yesterday I killed Morley.  Well in print anyway.  Hardest part of that was actually paying for all the flowery language that makes him out to be everything he certainly was not! Well that and finding where the hell Morley lived in Zorn (thankfully he had a Morley plaque in proud display near his gigantic estate, almost as if in defiance of what would befall him).  You'll note I said the ceremony would be outside, despite the weather being awful this time of year in Zorn, because Morley neglected to give me a key, and there was no way I'd ever break into his place and risk my life.

To my credit I did pay someone to set up some chairs and a couple tents so that the five people who showed up could have a place to sit and look at the empty coffin I had closed at the front near a podium (thank gods Morley has a huge estate or this would look like even more of a trap than it already was). So it at least kind of looked like an actual ceremony.  I was tempted to not use my own name, but I didn't think anyone alive would really connect me to past me (mistake number however million I make continually).

I was waiting up front by the coffin to keep people from noticing there wasn't a body in it (not for lack of trying, no I didn't intend on killing someone, just digging one up, but the cursed graveyard was watched like a damn hawk), when the room suddenly filled with people dressed in black.  So many different people dressed for an actual funeral I was caught off guard.  Here I expected to find the one person who looked too gleefully that Morley was dead and force them to take the curse off, and here an actual crowd of mourners! Thankfully/horribly I noticed this group of mourners was all wearing the same emblem and then I realized as always too late, that the only funeral they were planning on attending was my own.

"Mr. Lorentino, how nice of you to join us in mourning." Female, black hair, kind of plump for a cult leader or whatever these people were, but you know I really shouldn't judge, not everyone gets their exercise from running from everything like I do.

"Morley was a dear friend, I assume you were his uhhh church group?" I hoped my voice didn't show my signs of fear.  Despite the tent being canvas it was secured and they were covering the exit.  I could make an exit of course, but that assumed I'd have the ability to do so, with my previous experience with cults and leaders, thats like a fifty fifty kind of thing.

"We were his followers Lorentino, and now we are his avengers." Confused? Yeah so was I. And the revelation of the madness shall begin, tomorrow, got to leave you wanting something.

In Memoriam of Mr. Morley

An exerpt from a widely circulated paper in Zorn.

-With great sadness we announce the passing of Mr. Morley (no first name given).  He fought a long battle against a spreading disease but in the end he could not fight any longer and passed away over the weekend. Morley is survived by his one true friend Trezlan Lorentino. For anyone wishing to pay their respects to this brave fighter of the darkness a small ceremony will be held outside his home in Zorn, cash donations are welcome for the many charitable organizations Morley was apart of. Anyone who is not a friend of Morley or was touched by his life is recommended to stay at home and be silent, whatever grudges he may have had in life are no longer his in death.

A Curse On You All

"Clever." I believe this is where I left off, the remark of course was very clever.  You know the hardest thing about looking at someone upside down? Trying to keep yourself centered in realizing they are actually on the ground and you are not.  I know that doesn't make any sense, but hang upside down for a while and it will make total sense!

"I thought so."

"You should be more careful when contacting people like myself, some of my colleagues would not find your inquiries quite as humerous and would just kill you rather than talk with you."

"So should I say thank you?" I was really at a loss as to what courtesy hanging someone upside down provided.  I did have my magic so I could burn him and free myself, but I figured that would not accomplish what I needed accomplished.

"You should, but not for this.  You are chasing the wrong people Lorentino, we are no more guilty than the pistol that fired a bullet is the real culprit, our curses only work on the active hatred of the person they are intended on killing."

"So you're saying if I want to stop the curse on Morley."

"You have to find who cursed him, no I can not tell you who that is, and I'd recommend against going back to talk to Morley as he doesn't have a lot of time even with your laughable alchemist potion." Damn these guys were good at knowing my moves, if I wasn't writing this entry years after this happened I'd think they were reading it in the past!

"Well can you at least untie me, I'm getting a head ache." He shook his head and was gone.  At least I think it was a he, could have been a she with a deep voice.  I used fire to cut the rope and landed with a thud on my bed thankfully, he was at least that kind.  I also knew I had to find out who hated Morley enough to curse him, so that was only like half the known world, possibly extra dimensions, you know no pressure or anything.  I was seriously just thinking of leaving him to his fate, if only it didn't mean he'd some how come back and make it worse for me (a fear I still have to this day). I did have another wild plan to try and figure out who cursed Morley, but to do it I'd have to kill Morley.  Yep I'd have to kill him to save him, its a Lorentino kind of thing, I'll explain tommorrow.

Assassins Greed

"You looking to have someone killed?" Why every assassin in the world looks as shady as their profession I'll never understand.  In theory they are supposed to be hidden, or at the very least not so damn obvious! This guy had a thin mustache and jowls, he looked more like a comical pimp than an assassin.  I'd been in Lork for a couple days now, putting out feelers about needing someone killed, this was my first bite.

"I don't know if I'd say that, I'd like for them to die, and badly, but I'd prefer for it not to be traced back to me." I was in one of the many skeevy bars in Lork.  It wasn't the kind of place the high rollers wound up on purpose (if they had a need for someone hanging out in a bar like this, they'd send an assistant).

"I can do that." He seemed confident, but clearly not the type I was looking for.

"Can you do it with a curse that turns them into a slowly decaying mess?" His face soured, he looked at me like I'd ask him to do an impossible sex act and then left my table immediately.  I'd figured that whoever this group of assassins were they had a reputation, and if I bugged enough people they'd find me, again (hopefully with better results for myself).  It was risky, but as always my plans are go long on stupid and hope to win big. Surpingly this works more often than it does not, because I'm awesome obviously.

The scene above played out quite a few times over the next few days. With reactions varying from outright disgust to partial fear.  I was beginning to think the group I was looking for would never actually appear until I woke up in the middle of the night suspended in the air having been tied to the ceiling with some rope.

"I heard you're looking for us." The man in front of me was dressed in all black (naturally and really it conformed to my idea of assassins a lot more than the dirty ruffians I'd seen previously) his face was also obscured, hell it could have been a she for all I knew.

"Yeah I heard you guys make a hell of a steak, and I was wondering just what is your secret?" And that's where I'll leave this entry for the day, me being suspended after making a really bad joke.  Just like I expect my final moments in life to go.

Red Hand Land of Opportunity

"So you're leaving me here and going north to fight a group of curse assassins who already managed to disable you completely once in the hope of some how getting the curse off of me so that I don't die?" Morley did not sound like he trusted my plan to succeed.

"Yes Morley." I was stocking up on different types of flammable material, food, and toilet paper (look when you're alone in the wild toilet paper is the one comfort you really want).

"And all I have is that foul fluid you've given me and assured me it won't just kill me faster." As you can see Morley has no trust.

"Yes Morley." I mulled over bringing one of Hanlon's pistols with me, but ultimately decided to leave it, the Red Hand was really averse to firearms, especially a Ronerawth merchant carrying one.

"Oh this plan can't certainly fail, I certainly shouldn't just dig a hole and throw myself in!" His optimism was stunning.

"You go to war with the plan you have, not the plan you want Morley." While hoping to actually avoid going to war, my plan was pretty much an invitation to battle as it stood.  I had no idea how I'd get them to uncurse Morley, I was really hoping asking nicely would get the job done.

"Well at least I know I won't die alone Trezlan." His optimism is astounding. I didn't argue with him I just packed my things and told him I'd leave the key to his shackles sitting on a hook near the door when I left (see I'm not a total monster I left him a way to use his magic again). I wanted to take a train north and then ride on horse back to the divide, but after my little meeting with the curse assassins (curssin? Assasurses?) I figured staying away from public anything would be in my best interest.  So I saddled my horse and made for the Divide.

Now there was the small issue of actually getting across the divide as both the Red Hand and Ronerawth were never on "trading" terms especially following their conflicts.  I had this covered by simple bribery as everyone knew if you really wanted to get across the border the right amount of money and they let you through, hell if you paid enough you could probably get an entire army through, at least as far as Ronerawth was concerned.  Money as always was the great fixer of problems. My journey north was pretty uneventful, thanks to most of Ronerawth being civilized now either by shooting anything hostile or accusing it of being a traitor and beheading it (damn traitorous wild life got their due!)

Once I was across the border without some of the coinage I started with I felt that imposing sense of doom you can only get from being in the Red Hand's territory (thankfully now that the Guard is in charge things have, well gotten a lot worse since the war ravaged everything and let loose horrors beyond imagination!) I felt good you know, optimistic at my chances, because I'm damn idiotic! I should have ran away and waited for Morley to die.  Alas in for dumb in for the full dumb, and off I went to Lork to try and figure out a lead on these mysterious assassins, because the best way to find a secretive organization is by blundering around asking about them!

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.

I Knew I Told That Story For a Reason

"It all started when I decided to try and influence the Red Hand council..." Now you may be thinking to yourself that its silly to ask someone how they arrived at near dying when they are in fact dying, and that's correct it is silly, but Morley is hardly a person and I wanted a story for the malady before I even bothered helping. I mean who knows he might have pissed off a god and this was divine punishment, I don't want in on that, I already had one dark god thing after me to begin with. "I discovered a councilman had a pretty nasty secret he was keeping and with a couple secret bargains I had a guy in my back pocket."

"He wasn't keeping frozen dead women in his house was he?" See you see? I knew I told you that story for a reason, yes I know thats the title of this entry DEAL WITH IT!

"How, how could you have possibly known that?" Morley looked at me with those what else aren't you telling me eyes.

"Nevermind continue." I didn't want Morley going after Marian, despite him not being in good shape, because I knew I'd end up saving him and then he'd go after my other "friend" and I didn't have a lot of them at this point.

"Well anyway aside from your keen observation.  All was going well, he helped me buy influence with the other councilman and I kept his secret and even helped him with some preservation techniques (side note ewwwwwwwwww). And then someone killed him! Damndest thing to, they killed him, his guards and burned the entire manor down and no one in the Red Hand cared." Morley's voice sounded wet, like each word was being parsed through a wet towel, "And I thought that was the end of it, with his house burned down any connection to me was covered, and it was for years! I thought I was safe back in my homeland after the recent horrors of Ronerawth, but no I receieved a letter, and before you ask yes I live in a house not a cave, the legacy of Valrya is dead we both saw fit to that." I wasn't going to ask, ok I totally was.

"The issue wasn't the content of the letter, but what was on it, it was a simple 'I know' type in a normal font, but the letter was some kind of curse or poison, all I know is that it started this wasting disease and here I am, with you looking at me with horror enough to tell me how bad its gotten."

"Do you still have the letter?"

"Why do you have someone you don't like other than me?"

"No well yes, but no I need it to look at it." He produced it, I made sure to grab it with some tongs and move it over to my desk.  It didn't outwardly look evil or anything, but I made sure to keep my distance all the same. "Did it come in an envelope or have a seal?"

"No, it was just folded up." I couldn't see anything on it, it didn't feel magical or look poisoned, nothing wrong with the paper or anything.

"Did the person delivering it wear gloves?"

"You know come to think of it he didn't."

"I'll have to ask around with some contacts I have, do you have some time?" Morley looked at me with a scowl.

"Oh sure Trezlan I have all the time in the world." With that I took his letter sealed in a small metal container and went off to a couple not so honest contacts I'd developed just in case these kind of things came up (well it was more some people who dabbled in alchemy just in case I caught a disease that wasn't readily apparent what it was, look I go some crazy places you wouldn't believe the kind of things I pick up from such journeys!).  I left Morley shackled, though it didn't appear he had much strength to do anything, better safe than a necro snack.  Still it was quite a mystery and I love those, well I love them as long as it isn't me currently dying, even then its still a great mystery!

Where There's a Will, There's a Morley

"You shackled me." Morley was awake now, he did not look any better than when I'd see him the day before, but Morley never looks good, he's Morley.

"I brought you tea!" I had brought him tea, I felt it was a nice trade off.

"I come to you dying and you shackle me." Morley was barely able to climb over the side of the bed.  He truely looked near death.

"Couldn't find any honey, some kind of weird shortage, you know how it goes, you'll have to make do with sugar." I was trying to play down Morley's overreaction to being shackled, you know honestly I've been shackled so often its not exactly a rare thing for me. Not that I break the law that often... look ok we're looking past this.

"Glad to know what you think about me Trezlan, I come to you in my time of need and you immediately suspect me."

"To be honest Morley I figured you'd swap my life for yours."

"You think so little of me?"

"I'd do it to you."

"Fair enough, and I was planning on it originally, but unfortunately having a person along the way it doesn't actually fix anything." That was a rarity, this was one of the few times I've ever run across anything that Necromancy couldn't fix (the other things? broken heart, bad gass).

"So despite planning on killing me, you are mad I figured you'd do that?"

"Yes."

"Well at least you admit it, so Morley who did you piss off and what the hell did they do to you?" Morley looked at me sourly, took a long breath and then his story unfolded.  A shocking tale! Not really, it was actually par for the course for Morley, but you know how things go with me.  Also this is a nice stopping point for the tale.  Tommorrow I'll go over what Morley did, and sadly what we did to get him out of it. Yes I keep helping him when he's almost dead, I swear when he kills me these will pointed out to me by an unkind god.

Home For the Holidays

"You'll be alright Mr. Lorentino?" I was letting my staff take the holidays off (holidays, plural, starting around the end of the year there are six! Of them, from feasting, to celebrating the new year, to mourning the dead who didn't make the new year, I'd go over the holidays, but honestly who cares?) Before you think this is an overly nice gesture its because no one generally buys either guns or clothes despite gift giving being a big thing, so it was a cost saving measure made to look like a nice one.

"I'll be fine." I would be fine, during the holidays I just mainly kept the shop open for the person who ripped a pair of trousers right before some big meal and gouge the living gods out of them (see I don't entirely hate the holidays).

"Don't you have any family?" Tabitha and I always tend to have this conversation every year, its like a dance where both partners know all the moves.

"Nope they all died long ago, go Tabitha you'll miss your train." She gave me a small peck on the cheek as was our custom and picked up her belongings and made her way to the door.

"Just don't burn the shop down ok!" And with that she was off.  The burn the shop down thing was a one time attempt to try and put fire in a bottle.  I still maintain it would have worked! Just unfortunately as soon as I applied the fire to the flammable liquid, it exploded. And here I thought magic would help, alas.

The day preceeded like I thought it would, whole lot of nothing.  No customers, no complaints, not even a window shopper.  I spent the day reading a couple books I'd picked up from a passing merchant who claimed to be selling ancient power (I'm a sucker for a good story as I'm sure anyone reading this can tell) and drinking wine (beer is good for bullshitting, but wine will always be the superior reading drink).  So needless to say I was kind of wobbly in the late afternoon as the normal dark and cold settled in all over the city.  I was about to turn my placard from open to closed when a hooded man burst in.

"Sorry I'm closing up for the night, you'll have to come back tomorrow." He looked ragged, the traveling robes and hood he was wearing were frayed.

"Trezlan you have to help me." To my shock it was Morley, I mean I knew in a way he'd be back, but I hadn't anticpated he'd be back looking like he was fighting off the worlds worst flu. I kept my distance, when dealing with a wounded necromancer this is a wise thing, because as I've written before, you can be a solution of sorts for whatever ails them.

"What is wrong with you? You look paler and deader than usual." Its hard to look at someone who normally looks like a corpse and see something wrong, but Morley was so pale he was almost see through. Morley attempted to speak, but instead collapsed his frail frame not able to keep up with whatever had brought him to my shop.  I won't lie I poked him with my sword to make sure it wasn't a trick (didn't have a stick available, and if it was a trick well I wanted a better weapon than a damn stick). But he was out cold, in more ways than one. His body felt like ice as I carried him to my room at the back of the shop and shackled him in bed (look I was giving up my bed, I sure as all get out was not going to let him have magical abilities while I looked after him, he was dangerous as all necromancers are). Taking a place at my desk near the bed I watched over him, something was direly wrong with Morley, and I was pretty sure it wasn't just lacking holiday cheer. And thats how it went that night, Morley sleeping/dying, and me watching over him fearful of falling asleep and waking in the afterlife.

Don't you just love when family visits for the holidays?

Now Back to Our Normal Narcissicm

"Bring it?"

"And then I killed all of them."

"Bring it really? No one is going to believe that." And back to the future past (future of the story I was telling, my past as I'm writing, do keep up gentle reader).

"It's what I said, and who cares about believeability? Isn't that the whole thing with heroic stories that they defy imagination?" Marian had a lot of ale flowing through her at this point, I'm cleaning up how she spoke because it was a lovely combination of grunts and slurs.

"I don't really think its that heroic that you were blackmailed into murdering a murderer so that someone else who was probably equally as bad could take his place." I mean in that definition of heroism I'm the most heroic person who ever heroed and even I don't believe that.

"Look are you going to write that down or not?"

"Fine,'bring it' it is, no matter how ridiculous the idea is, so is that all you killed all the guys guards went back and got a job well done?"

"Pretty much, eventually I found my way south to Ronerawth and in kind of an interesting story I was able to get my families name cleared let me tell you about that..." It was not an interesting story, it was fairly boring.  Her family was accused of treason based on a clerical error, A CLERICAL ERROR! Someone wrote the wrong name down in a book of people who had donated to a failed coup and Marian discovered the actual traitor, this story took three hours to tell and had a lot of internal boring to it, seriously I wrote down for the next section back then (Marian can not tell a story, her parents died by clerical error).  The most hilarious thing was seeing the pardon letter by an undersecretary at the time apologizing for the mistake and any hardship it may have caused, sadly I didn't get the letter.

After Marian finished her second story she paid the tab and left me to "finish writing".  Which as I admitted to, I hadn't done very well, sadly I can't even blame it on liquor as I wasn't really drinking despite Marian's incentive of covering my tab, mainly because I kind of took writing thing seriously, even though I clearly didn't.  Marian would leave town a day later with not even a good bye.  She went off to do what mercenaries do and eventually was killed in the Red Hand lands, I heard it was for killing that councilman all those years previous despite being told to do so.  Such is the nature of politics and why I try and stay far away from them.  Tell you good job out of one side of their face, set you up to be murdered out the other.

The Big Chill

*Smash* Ice broke way under Marian's mace (note to self Marian's Mace, good name for a tavern potentially catering to women). The frozen body trapped within fell to the flood with a wet thud. Marian continued along the wall freeing the dead women from their frozen display cases, it had the desired effect the door behind her blew open with a shatter of wood and ice.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" The councilman roared his voice almost too loud to understand clearly. Marian was waiting by the door when it blew open, her mace swing connected what she thought would be his head, but she misjudged his height and hit him in the shoulder. The councilman collapsed all the same (you try and get hit in the shoulder with a big mace and not fall over, well actually don't, because that could kill you), Marian tried to follow up his collapse with a shotgun blast, but the councilman put up a wall of ice between her and him and the shot impacted on it, but did not break it.  She was about to swing her mace again when an ice spear impaled her right shoulder and pinned her to a wall. The councilman got to his feet, his right arm hung useless at his side.

"You will be the start of my new collection!" His hand had formed into some kind of ice blade.  Marian acted fast first breaking the end of the spear off, and then pulling with all her strength to get it out of herself. The weapon in hand she impaled it into the councilmans eye. The iceblade instantly melted, as did the remaining ice in the room (I've heard of this phenomenon, something about magical things not lasting past the creators life, as a fire user its not something I run into, haven't set any ever burning flames, well that I'm aware of). Marian unloaded another two barrels of shotgun shells into him, just to make sure. She emerged from his viewing room with her right arm in pain, about ten shells of ammunition left, and bleeding from where the ice spear had impaled her.  Greeting her was the rest of Councilmans guard, about ten men.  All ready to kill her.

Marian grinned reloaded the shotgun and said "Bring it!"

On Flies And Parlors

"So they finally sent someone to try and kill me, and a woman even, someone has a sense of humor." The voice echoed in the building, it didn't seem to be coming from one place specifically but all places. Marian held the shotgun in front of her trying to check for the source of the noise.

"You've gone too far councilman, they can't hide your problems any longer." It was a lie Marian had no idea if he went too far, or not far enough, all she knew was she had been told to kill him or she'd die, not much of an option.

"Please they wouldn't tell you why you need to kill me, I'm sure they even threatened to kill you should you not try.  You are just their errand girl, and not the first, you'll mark their fifth failed attempt at killing me." Marian shot, a darkened cabinet exploded in wood and glass from the impact, the councilman was not inside. She felt a chill run down her back that solified into a block of ice.  It was so cold it burned, from the house laughter erupted. Marian dropped to her back and the ice shattered (see there's where fire is a boon and ice is just something for people who got the raw deal, personal opinion of course), she fired behind her because she doesn't understand how magic works (I did not say this opinion to her while she related this story to me), and of course just destroyed more furniture bringing more laughter. Marian realized she had to control the enviroment, so instead of remaining in the big open room, she rushed to a side room.

She ran in and slammed the door behind her, the room was lit by oil lamps like most places were, though it was a bit too bright compared to other rooms she'd been in, and Marian could immediately see why.  Incased in unnatural ice around the room were the heads and naked bodies of several women of various ages. It was so grotesque a scene Marian had to fight back a feeling of vomit. Whatever else was going on with this guy this was enough for Marian to want to crush the life out of him and watch him die.  And she had a perfect plan to do it seeing his frozen trophies...

All Manor of Problems

Marian is not a subtle woman.  I mean she's big for a woman, she swing a huge mace, carries a large shotgun, and has a presence you really can't ignore (as well as a horrible laugh, seriously this laugh its the worst thing). So the thought of her sneaking up on a manor as she described it to me seemed alien.  It would be like me saying I negoatiated something artfully, its hard to buy. Still since I did not witness this and I'm only reporting it second hand I have to go with her description. The Manor was thankfully not near any city enough to worry about random people walking by, which also provided a complication because it meant Marian couldn't rely on a crowd to mask her approach. Though she had a plan, a plan that even I kind of balked at.

"Halt!" The guard at the front was wearing one of those silly suit/uniform things that really rich people make their bodyguards wear.  I have no idea why really, it always looks ridiculous. This particular set also was dressed in bright yellow, or so Marian claims, she could just have been screwing with me.

"I have a letter from the Council, special delivery." Yes her plan was dressed as a mercenary with a large mace and shotgun to pretend to be some kind of special courier. When she relayed this story she was about half past drunk, so take this with the usual amount of belief you trust in me. The guard turned to look back for some kind of supervisor and that was the last thing he ever did.  Marian had hopped off her horse and using her warhammer as a bit of a crank snapped his neck in one swift motion. Unfortunately she did it in the middle of a lamp light and the guards were in position to cover each other with sightlines.  A shout from in front of her was answered with two roars of the shotgun (Marian was again not a subtle lady). Which only drew the rest of the guards to her position.  She quickly reloaded the gun and caught the guard running from her left with another double barrel blast.  The guard to her right found out that while not intended to be swung one handed Marian can still pull off the maneuver and splattered his skull all over the opening yard area.

With the jig effectively up she just decided to crash through the patio doors and bring the councilman down to just end the whole thing early.  Unfortunately as soon as she crashed through the doors she tripped a magical barrier (pro tip about antimagical trinkets, they are completely useless) and trapped herself inside. It wasn't exactly a huge difference considering she was there to kill the councilman either way, but it did make escaping/murdering everyone a bit harder.

"Welcome to my parlor fly." The voice boomed all around her and Marian knew just like everything else in life, things went from bad to worse.

To Kill A Councilman

"Kill everyone there." The judge was going over the plan for murdering the Councilman.  It wasn't so much of a plan as a directive.  He had the layout of the Councilman's manor, with possible guard patrol's marked in red, and best ways to enter circled (the patio had a double glass door entry that would be easy to smash through and see anyone on the other side). Also next to the plans was a double barrel shotgun with a belt of shells.

"You mean like anyone who fights back?" Marian had her mace returned to her, and she'd been gifted a couple supposedly antimagical artifacts to help out against any traps or runes he may have had inscribed in places.

"No I mean everyone in the manor, leave no survivors, burn the whole thing to the ground. We need to control the narrative, anyone who sees what really happened has to die.  I recommend doing this at night because that way there will be less people there, but its up to you." The judge was clam as he could be while pronouncing everyone to die in the building.  Marian caught the implication about night time, during the day there would be more servants and therefore more people she might have a problem killing.  She didn't ask about any family, already assuming she wasn't going to get out of this without being a child killer.

"Anything I should know about the councilman? What kind of magic does he use?"

"Ice, been doing it for years, though he's gotten up there in age and so he will be weakened in theory."

"In theory."

"No one said this would be easy Marian, if it was I'd have just paid some criminal on the street to stick a knife in his ribs, well I should say that would have been successful."

"Anything else?"

"Clock is ticking, you have a week to reach the manor and deal with him.  If you fail or run away I'll find you and believe me death will be the least of your worries." Again the chill, Marian had heard what the Red Hand can do to you should you upset them enough and it was enough for her to realize failing to kill the councilman and dying to his guards, was better than messing with this judge. Marian gathered the shotgun and the plans and made her way downstairs to the new horse they'd arranged for her.  She noticed no other guards were in the building despite several being there earlier.  All the more reason to fear the Judge, he was probably doing this outside of his own governments authority, and her failure would be all the more painful on either side.

It was night out when she set out for the Councilman's manor and there was a cold chill in the summer air. Marian feared it was a sign of things to come and as she tells me the story, she was absolutely right.

Red Handed Diplomacy

"Marian Ribiachi." The judge was seated at his desk, Marian was still in her armored tunic but her weapon was placed on the desk in front of the judge.  The room was fairly lavish, red tapestries with the Red Hands grasping fist proudly displayed along all the walls, the desk itself was a fancy wooden thing that appeared hand crafted with gold inlays. The chair he was seated at was high backed and matched the desk. Marians chair was a bit more simple, just wood with small padding.

"Never heard of her." It had been two years since Marian fled, but she had learned many times annoucing her full name was a bad idea.  Its not like anyone in the Red Hand territory would really care her father had been executed in Ronerawth for being a traitor, but it was better safe than sorry when dealing with any kind of authority.

"Oh please Marian, there is no need to hide your identity we are all friends here." He had stood up and moved to the edge of his desk.  Marian was seated but not restrained, but she could sense the power the Judge wielded was not one of martial strength.  She hadn't dealt with a judge before, but had heard of their abilities and didn't want to tempt ones wrath.

"Friends who murdered a fellow mercenary, took my job, and have me locked up here?"

"You aren't really locked up are you? No bars on your door, shackles on your wrist? No you are merely being kept, its a shame you got caught up in a kidnapping, but we don't fault you.  In fact we want to," He paused to think over his next choice of words, "Reward you."

"I'm listening." Marian was an opportunist, even back then, her loyalty has always been as far as her coin purse.  I can respect that.

"We have a situtation brewing with a councilman, he's becoming a little unhinged, his obsession with his niece kind of prompted this little show in the first place."

"And so you want me to talk to him?"

"I want you to kill him, before you react all indiginantly know that I have two seperate places I could send you, either Ronerawth to face the music for your father being a traitor, or our own prison apparently a couple years back a mysterious brown skinned woman murdered a couple guards and escaped with a known spy, now the survivors didn't get her name but I'm sure they could be coaxed into indentifying her if need be."

"Not exactly much of a reward killing a man." Marian was between a rock and a hard place, but she still wanted to work a deal.

"The reward comes after, but there's no point in discussing it with your task at hand.  You know of course I can't directly help you."

"Of course or you'd be open for your own government coming after you for murdering one of your own."

"Exactly, though after its done things will change, for country, for you personally, and for me, it all works out, once he's dead.  So we have a deal?" He extended his hand, Marian had a sense of hesitation like she was making a deal that would not be the easiest to back out of.

"We have a deal." She shook his hand and felt a shiver run down her back. It wasn't exactly making a deal with a dark creature, but it certainly felt like one according to Marian.  She still got shivers about that meeting even when talking to me about it.  Which sounds about right for dealing with anyone in the upper parts of the Red Hand government.

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!