Pretend that I care

"I can't break it." Valrym was looking at me with the kind of why are you bringing me look he frequently does when I ask for his help.

"Can't or Won't?" Oshujon was not with me, he cited some kind of not wanting to interfere with another god's avatar situation, put simply he wanted to do something else entirely, which should have been what I WAS DOING!

"Can't, its not a weapon made of this world."

"That doesn't even mean anything." It doesn't, people say shit like that all the time.  I swear its the catch all for 'I have no idea'.

"It means you can take your evil blade and leave my bar." He handed me back the sword. And I looked at him with disdain DISDAIN! The highest form of dain! What's the point of knowing a blacksmith godling when he will not destroy your evil cursed blade! I mean his entire existence is there for me and me alone and now he fails me in my time of need! And naturally when I left the tavern Therod was waiting for me to arrest me for having a dangerous magical artifact in her stupid town.

I wanted to blame Oshujon but I didn't think he actually set me up, this was some other stupid coincidence/combined with me being the most obvious magical holder of doom.  I tell you I can't wait for all these fine people to die so I can rebuild a new reputation with people who don't know I'm a horrible person. Which of course makes me a horrible person.

Results May Change

"So he started a bloody purge of anyone he deemed unworthy, eventually leading to Marked One's uniting and destroying his cult and removing him from power." I couldn't make that sound more interesting, I'd apologize but I'm an asshole.

"And the sword?"

"I threw it into the sea hoping it would never be found again."

"So like a few feet from shore? Can't imagine how that plan failed." Seriously might as well have put a note on it in the wilderness.

"I threw it several miles Trezlan, I'm not a simple man." So he claims! I'm still going with basically a little bit off shore.

"And the creature got it?"

"He's a water creature of some kind, probably drawn by evil like himself, when he figured out it was worse than he is he gave it to you to do worse things."

"Not all tentacle creatures are bad!" No they all are, all of them.

"Right of course, its why he gave you a cursed sword and no other assistance, a sword you didn't even end up using successfully."

"Why do you always have to be right?"

"Because you insist on being wrong." History will look back on my actions and recall that they were all correct, because I intend on writing that bit of history!

"So we'll just throw this thing in the ocean again, problem solved." I grabbed the sword and for the first time could feel something was really off with it.  I guess I didn't notice before, kind of like when you have a nasty smell in your house but get used to it, until you are gone for a bit and the smell becomes really apparent, like that only with an evil cursed sword.

"No we have to destroy it."

"Great just great, you get to throw it away, I have to destroy it." It really was that stupidly simple. Everyone else gets to ignore problems I have to solve them, because someone has to the adult in my life and sadly that person is me. I swear everyone else saves the world, I pick up all the trash that leaves behind! I'm the world garbageman!

The Church of Screw You I got Mine

I didn't really get into the different religion of the lands of the west too much, because frankly it confuses the crap out of me.  They have a similar god for every emotion/state in this world (plus several others) which makes how they overlap with my gods kind of funny (Oshujon informed me their god of war is very much the same one as the fire god over here, she's just part of a bigger pantheon with them, which seems odd believeable but odd, I wonder if it ever lead to one god getting fed up of being ignored in the pantheon and just leaving... wait maybe that explains the Fire God's influence in my lands, wow I never thought of it like that, damn it I'm stupid). Where it really goes off the rails is in their religions.

They have at least 5 that Oshujon knew of, and at least three major ones, including one that believes in one singular god (which is odd again considering they actually have a pantheon that has directly interefered in their own lives! HOW CAN YOU BELIEVE IN JUST ONE?) The most respected of these religions was Church of the Five Elements (Earth, Water, Wind, Fire, Bullshit err Magic) how they were the most respected is beyond me? Their name was ridiculous, but I guess when you've got longevity you can just fill in the blanks (which is what prompted me to create my own Religion I've included the name in the title, did you know I titled these entries? Because I totally do, no I have no idea why). As is most often the case the Church of The Five Elements had the nicest buildings in some of the nicest parts of town (because they have money by bilking poor people, what you don't think that a nice neighborhood just finds itself around religious buildings? No they buy their way in). Oshujon sought the Church of the Five Elements because he'd heard they had a way of cleansing bad objects (it usually involved them taking possession of them and you never seeing them again, boom cleansed into the hands of the church to sell to someone else!) Oshujon at least rated speaking to the head of the branch he had approached, it was in a city he doesn't remember (see this is why I write this shit down, the longer you live the more chance you can to forget!), but he did remember the guy had a long nose, so that was something.

"You did the right thing Marked One." Long nose was practically salivating looking at the sword, which made Oshujon feel he was doing the exact opposite of the right thing.

"So you'll destroy the sword?" It was at this question Oshujon realized not only was he in the middle of a large building there were several armed men in there with him.

"Oh no this blade is far too holy to destroy Marked One, no we'll offer this to our gods and they will tell us the proper thing to do." I know it seems obvious to me, but Oshujon was the instrument of the gods, why they didn't understand he was basically their gods in human form saying "Do this now"

"I made a mistake." Oshujon went to grab the sword and the guards unsheathed their own weapons.

"Yes, yes you did Marked One, you are trying to take a donation to the church of the five elements, and I can not allow that, be gone from this place before I turn you out as the false prophet you clearly are." I have mentioned the issue with Zealots right? Oshujon was remarkably restrained, I had personally seen him kill several people without issue, but here he merely left the sword and walked away.  I guess it comes down to you can't kill people for having the wrong belief structure (well he couldn't, I sure as all gods in this earth do, its my creed and the creed of my new church).

So he left the evil sword in the hands of zealots. This of course had results you can expect, well results I would expect, and I hope you would expect from having read all the horrible things that have happened to my life! DONATE TO MY CHURCH!

Sword of Nightmares

I'm no stranger to nightmares.  They are my constant companion, I don't mention them because frankly I've grown used to waking up in the middle of the night terrified of some half remembered terror that I probably experienced (as I've written down my life is a road map of pain). Oshujon by comparison does not normally get them or any dream. So when he laid down in a modest camp with the sword the night after murdering a man and burning his how down (yes I'm bringing that up, yes its petty, no he didn't put it that way when he told me the story) he was awakened by horrible nightmares.

He couldn't say for sure what they were about, even when he told me he appeared haunted by the memory. He did know that it was terrifying and he woke up in a cold sweat. And when he did awake he was clutching the blade to himself. He didn't know how that had happened, when he went to sleep the sword had been leaning against a tree trunk he'd made his camp next to. The sword felt wrong too, he hadn't picked up on it before, but now there was something blaring in his head to its evil. There was also the sudden desire for more weaponry. Just an overwhelming lust for as much weapons as he could acrue to protect himself from an evil he couldn't name.

He threw the sword away from himself, he wanted to take it to a cliff and throw it off, but he knew that wouldn't do anyone any good. No he had to find someone to destroy it, and for that he sought a priest. Because I guess he doesn't understand that the only thing priests are good at destroying is your faith in humanity (I have no issue with belief in all the gods because they are most certainly real and Oshujon kind of sort of is one? I guess? But the earthly instruments of our divine beings are some of the most easily corrupted group I've ever dealt with and I frequently deal with politicians). Of course since the sword was still around clearly the priest thing was a bad idea, some could say the worst idea. But thats for tomororw's entry naturally. Oh and in case you were wondering, I too got nightmares from the sword, but since thats my normal I didn't even notice the difference, I kid you not.  First time in a long time my own scarred mental psyche prevented me from suffering noticeable ill effects. 

A Booming Reception

"Marked One open the door." In case you were wondering how Oshujon asked people to let him into their houses.

"One moment." Never is it a good idea when you've identified yourself as authority to let the person you identified yourself too more time to prepare.  I mean sure they might not have on pants and they need to find their pants (and its always pants) or they might be planning a haphazard attempt at your life that just takes a moment (like most people do with me, its why I don't knock I just kick in doors, lets just say I replace a lot of doors). Oshujon heard the distinct sound of a hissing fuse and wisely stepped back from the door before a cannon shot erupted through it.

To say he was upset was a mild understatement (you try having a cannon fired at you and maintain your cool, its impossible). The man behind the cannon was not too happy to see a pissed off Oshujon marching into his narrow hallway green angry sword drawn and ready (then again who would be happy seeing that? Masochists?).  It wasn't much of a fight as Oshujon tells it, he basically ran forward beheaded a guy and that was that (the other smugglers were apparently out of town?).  They did have weapons though, lots of weapons stock piled in all rooms of the farm house.  Most appeared to be junk, but Oshujon did find one sword that stood out (obviously this whole story is about the sword!) So he took the sword without much of a thought burned the house down with the rest of the weaponry in it (including more cannon balls and gun powder, which I can only assume exploded very awkwardly possibly killing on lookers, but he didn't tell me if any died, which lets me fill in that yes two farmers were murdered when a canonball crashed into their pack horse and beheaded the beast before maiming both of them... ARTISTIC LICENSE!)

Oshujon tells me he should have known then something was wrong. Its not required to burn down the house, nor take the sword. In fact he's not supposed to have posessions so him taking one was kind of against his code entirely and should have warned him something was amiss. But he didn't and so the sword transfered from a couple idiots who were stockpiling weapons to a person who was a living weapon.  You know nothing serious or anything to be worried about.

The Trials of The Marked One

"Weapon smugglers?" Oshujon (that's how I'll refer to him because frankly writing the marked one over and over again got tiresome the first time...) was at a small farm port on a river in the lands of the west. It was fifty years ago give or take a year (he didn't remember I didn't care), he had been summoned by one of the local farmers to discuss an issue the farmer felt was dire indeed.

"Yes Marked one."

"How can one smuggle something thats not against the law to transport?" Weapons in the land of the west were not against the law to own, or sell. Which was kind of surprising since the law in the lands of the west was so harsh on literally everything else, but I guess because of that they had no issue with everyone having a weapon? I have no idea, as you can guess I barely know the laws in the countries I've lived in (as my criminal history obviously represents).

"These were dangerous weapons." Oshujon sighed, I mean all weapons are dangerous thats hence their damn name.

"And you know these men were smuggling weapons because?"

"Because I saw them moving them around."

"Which means they were doing it openly?"

"No, well yes, but I'm telling you they are smuggling them!" Oshujon informed me that this conversation took over an hour to complete and the basic gist was that this farmer had seen other farmers moving weapons disguised in food crates, despite clearly this guy seeing them doing it so they weren't very good weapon smugglers if they were smugglers at all. These kind of things came up all the time for Marked Ones apparently, one person suspected his neighbors of wrong doing or just didn't like them and would tell some grandiose tale about what was going on and the Marked One (any of them really) would have to investigate on the off chance something was actually going on.

To me that sounds like it would be the actual interesting thing about being a Marked One but Oshujon assured me it was the worst part of the job.  I mean admitting you were doing something wrong would get you killed, so of course no one ever admitting to doing something bad. And Marked One's weren't exactly hired based on their investigative experience so most of the time it was either walk away or kill everyone involved (including at times hilariously the person who reported it, did I mention law in the West sounded really awful? Because it totally does).

Oshujon prefered the walk away method since most of the time nothing bad was ever going on, but he admitted this time something was intriguing about it.  Just the concept of doing something not against the law but hiding you are doing it, it was just too stupid not to look into (that's Lorentino logic I informed him and he harrumphed).  So it came to pass Oshujon looked into the Crosspire farm and discovered well obviously a sword, but more than that of course, next entry etc etc.

Swordsposition

"That sword is cursed." Of course it was cursed I owned it, naturally it'd be gods damned cursed. It meant I couldn't sell it, couldn't be rid of it in a normal way, had to hold on to it, because thats my stupid life. I get tossed a sword from some creepy tentacle monster and the one blade he had was cursed.  I mean why else would the monster have it?

"You say cursed like its a bad thing, I mean who doesn't want a cursed object?"

"Literally anyone with a lick of sense." He was right, but Rosettia like everywhere else in the Guard territory lacked people with sense.

"So why is it cursed western lawman? I'd like a real reason and not just your word." Which is not to doubt his word, but if I'm going to potentially have to deal with a sword curse related issue, I want to be damn sure he's correct.

"It's a long story."

"I've got all day, and if you aren't wrong I might even do what you suggest to do with this sword."

"Might? Well Mr. Lorentino pull up a chair and let me tell you all about that cursed trinket you seem intent on foisting on someone else." And so I pulled up a chair while the most boring story teller ever told me a story. I'll put it along to you, but minus all the dry boring (because honestly if anyone should bore you, it should be me! Wait that came off wrong).

Proof Positive I'm not a People Person

"I don't see why you're angry." I and Oshujon were walking away from the Captain's jail/office, I was in a bit more of a huff considering what had transpired.

"The woman hates me, yet you someone who beat up five people and maimed a couple, you she likes, that makes no sense to me." She does hate me, I mean sure I'm a necromancer and I frequently, through no fault of my own mind you, am engaged in horrible things under and around the city.  Still there is no reason to hate.

"You're just not a people person Trezlan, you rub people the wrong way." I didn't even have to bail him out or anything, SHE LET HIM OUT! If Mordere was here he'd be upset too, I mean he had to go to trial and everything.  Well if he was here I'm sure he'd try and kill the man from the west, because thats kind of what he does, kill the unkillable (something I'm astutely aware of mind you).

"People like me!"

"Name one person who likes you, just one." I was silent because damn it he was right. I try not to be upset about it, but yeesh I am pretty unlikeable now that I think about it. I guess its something I should work on, but in all honest why bother? I mean they'll be dead soon enough and more people will get in my way and annoy me and I them.  Ok thats a really cynical way of looking at things, but come on! I mean outside of Morley, Oshujon, and Valrym who else can be around for as long as I have? I do realize I seem to be accumulating people who live forever, at least two of them aren't actively trying to kill me, but Morley more than makes up for that factor.

We made it back to my store and Oshujon had that look of self satisfaction after winning an argument (we weren't arguing though I was merely stating my case for... SHUT UP!). Nidget was not in the office, but when I'm there he usually isn't (which makes him the worst employee of all time, well being Nidget does, but this is a symptom of the greater Nidget issue). It was at this time I recalled that stupid sword I'd gotten from my last failed adventure and decided I'd sell it as some kind of artifact (because it looked artifacty, I mean it had engraving and everything, total artifact). Oshujon who was mildly involved in looking smug suddenly got a weird look on his face.

"Where did you get that?" A dumb question since his weird law powers gave him insigh damn near immeadiately. "Oh oh no." And with that things got weirder. Which for me is saying something.

Law Vs Law

Despite no one being dead (though maimed is definately the nice way of putting it) Captain Therod showed up and arrested Oshujon for the fight (it was five on one and he won easily, but I think numbers should factor in somewhere!) I tensed up at the potential altercation, mainly because I didn't know how one form of law would do with the other. But he deferred to the Captain offered his wrists for shackles and was lead away. I guess carrying out justice for as long as he had, lead to him being respectful of it even when it conflicts with his own.

It did leave me a damned lengthy beer tab to pick up, thank gods I'd completed tailoring orders or I would have had to beg for Val to spot me credit and I doubted he would have (which lead to my belief Oshujon set me up, look I believe stupider things). I figured though a night in jail might either be a good thing (letting him see that hey look you can just imprison people without murdering them) or a bad thing (hey look I just put someone who murders people for breaking the law, in a cell with a bunch of people who broke the law).  I would have been more concerned if I wasn't quite drunk and still reeling from having to pay a bill I felt I didn't actually earn (though I did, also Oshujon didn't exactly have possessions, nor money so it should have come as no surpise I ended up owing). With all of that up in the air I decided to sleep off my hang over and hope things were better in the morning (you'll be surprised how often this strategy actually works!)

I got up sort of early (it wasn't noon, thats early) and walked to the jail fully expecting it to be burned to the ground with a gravely voiced guy swinging around green chain blades (yes chain blades no I don't know why) killing everything in sight.  Thankfully the building was still standing and when I got there Therod was actually chatting with Oshujon over coffee.  I was to put it mildly shocked. And that is where I'll leave you today.

A Drink And A Fight, The Perfect Night

"So I told him he was free to go and then I snapped his neck!" Oshujon (thats so werid to pronounce it sounds like a sneeze) was halfway into his sixth beer of the night and was already thinking he was pretty funny. And maybe he would be, if he wasn't talking about how he killed various people for petty crimes because thats what he does.  I mean honestly I've got a dark sense of humor, I don't find any humor in giving someone hope and then snuffing them out (the only joke he seemed to tell).  It made me question if he had any humanity left. Which is weird since I wonder myself if I have any humanity left.

"That, that is an awful story and I feel horrible for hearing it."

"I think the sense of humor doesn't translate well from the west." Ohsujon was kind of verbose when he was drinking, I'm figuring because he hadn't done anything like this in hundreds of years.  We were at Valrym's tavern, there was a tense moment when both of them realized what the other was. More so on Val's part than Oshujon.

"I think joking about murdering someone is not funny no matter what country you are from."

"You know what your problem is Lorentino?"

"I only have one?"

"One that's pissing me off, you just don't know how to enjoy yourself." With that he tipped the rest of his drink back and let out a braying creepy laugh because his voice was already raspy to begin with. We weren't alone in the tavern, but my companion didn't seem to care about decorum or quiet, which upset some of the other patrons.

"Shut up both of you I'm tired of hearing you talk." A surly dockworker who looked like he was barely out of sucking his mothers teet for milk. He had four friends with him who looked similarly young, I could tell they were dock workers from the stink and clothing.

"We'll be quiet enjoy your drinks." There I go trying to be diplomatic.

"Maybe you'll be quiet, I don't take orders from pups." I could tell this was coming, the drinking, the beligerence, Oshujon wanted a fight, probably to blow off steam he no longer has to follow orders and execute people in his own country.  Well either that or he just liked exploding peoples noses.

"You want to take this outside old man?" Why do people always attack older people for their age? I mean come on its hurtful! Wait thats why they do it.

"Sure I'd hate to spill my drink." I followed because I had to make sure he didn't kill anyone (It would put a damper on my business to have to deal with one aspect of law dealing with another one, not to mention I don't know if Oshujon understood legal concepts in the lands of the Guard). Valrym for his part harumphed behind the bar and kept polishing glasses or whatever.

"So is it just you or..." The young man's thought was cut off when we got outside, Oshujon's foot ended the conversation, I saw a flash of blood and teeth as he collapsed to the ground. We weren't even really outside (we were barely out of the entry way when Oshujon had spin kicked the one guys teeth into his throat).  He closed his eyes and made a hand motion for the other four to come toward him, shockingly they did (such is the problem of the young they think they are invulnerable when its pretty much the opposite). I had to recalibrate how drunk I thought my companion was when I saw how quickly he dismantled the dock workers. I mean I knew the guy was fatal, and had spent hundreds of years killing people, but jeeze I thought they would actually get a hit in. That was not the case, each blow was parried, dodged, or directed towards another combatant, and just like that the fight was over, the final combatants head collided with the side of the tavern with a sickening thump. I worried he'd killed the guy so I checked his pulse, thankfully he was still alive, barely, but he'd recover most likely.

"He'll live." That was all Oshujon said of the encounter and then he went back inside. Well at least his drink didn't get spilled. I recall I didn't finish the spider war sub thread I talked about in previous entries. We won, and by we I mean people, but still I'm keeping my spider language in case they come back and win this war. Look deep down we all want to be ruled by our spider overlords, you know it, I know it, we all know it!

A Marked Improvement

"I'm shocked." That's what I heard when the door swung open, it was also my line. The Marked One was there in all his one shoulder guard sewn up leather armor glory.

"Of all the tailoring and general knick knack stores you wonder into mine and claim to be shocked?" It was the best I could come up with on short notice, I was also working my fingers to the max to catch up on my tailoring orders. I was just about finished which was good considering who just walked into my door.

"You're one of the only people I know in this part of the world of course I'd swing in to meet you when I'm in the area." I noticed his blade was not on his back, I figured he had it hiding somewhere, probably to not give away he isn't exactly as he seems.

"Why are you in the area, isn't your entire power base in the lands of the west?"

"To an extent, though justice knows no bound of land, there was just some fall out from my direct interference into the brotherhood and the Gods felt it best I leave for a time while the people get over it." For a time probably meant hundreds of years, which for either me or the Marked one isn't that big of a deal (well other than the waiting, gods the waiting kills me when I'm hoping people forget about something... no I won't tell you what I'm waiting on, yes it was bad, no I don't feel bad about it).

"Aren't you worried the law will get out of hand in your absence?"

"There are other Marked One's to carry on my work. I'm also shocked that you actually are a tailor, I mean I know you said you were, but seeing you with needle and thread? This was well worth the journey." It was almost a sense of humor, almost.

"I'm glad that my labor amuses you."

"Yes it does, someone has malcontent and malicious as you creating frilly clothing? Its just made for my amusement." I was going to fight his characterization of me, but you know he wasn't wrong.

"So what do I call you here Marked One is so generic?"

"Oshujon."

"Is that your name? You can have one now?"

"No and no, thats just Marked One in an older language no one speaks in my countries anymore."

"Fair enough, so what do you want to do now that you're here?"

"Live Mr. Lorentino, I want to live." And so we did, which of course lead to us almost dying. Its weird how such a simple request can lead to a complicated everything. Story of my life, as I've written to you several times.

Hand Made You Can Tell From the Blood

I prick myself often. I don't mean that sexual though I can see how you'd see it that way you jerk.  But I mean despite being a very good tailorer (you can tell I'm good because I'm so modest!) I tend to injure myself a lot, its why I don't like actually sewing things.  This actually slows me down since I have to take my clothes to a launderer to get the blood cleaned out of them (seriously, my launderer is quite adept at removing blood stains from clothing, something I'm kind of creeped out by got to tell you the truth).  So when I say it took blood sweat and tears to get where I'm at its mostly true (aside from the tears parts, I never cry, its something thats been literally beaten out of me over the years).

My clients were overjoyed I completed orders, surpringly I was able to lie my way out of it saying I had to find only the best materials (read cheapest shit that I could pawn off to look amazing).  They accepted the outfits and were very happy to have them, I even swear to gods had to dissuade them from giving me a tip (here's a tip don't trust my timelines!).

I was actually all caught up and relaxed into my chair when The Marked One entered my store and caused everything to get all screwed up again. Yep thats how I'm leaving you, wondering how both of those things happened and also in quiet awe of my tailoring abilities, its ok you can be amazed, I can wait.

The Worst Injuries I do to Myself

"Oh you're back." This was my return from abroad by Nidget, have I mentioned how much he doesn't care about me? Because he totally doesn't care about me.

"Yes I your boss returns from my time abroad!" I have to remind Nidget I am his boss, and that I pay him to be an asshole to me, which seems weird right? That's weird.

"So who did you kill now?"

"No one, wait I killed something, I don't know what it was, but it died and I return."

"Hooray I'd throw you a party, but you know budget and all that."

"I completely understand, so how are sales?"

"Good good, you know when you're around to actually do them, also your tailor contracts are getting kind of piled up over there you might I dunno want to make some clothes for the people you've taken money from." He pointed to my gathering dust tailoring desk and the rather large stack of orders on it.

"Gods I almost forgot about that stuff." I say almost because it was back there in the back of my mind being ignored like my concience and where I've stashed my vast fortune (that last one is not a truth so much as wishful dreaming).

"Your customers haven't they keep coming in wondering when their fantastic whatever will be completed. I have to hand it to you, you're a great salesman, horrible actual worker though."

"Things came up!"

"Which is what I tell them, but maybe just maybe you should clear your schedule and actually I dunno DO YOUR DAMNED JOB!" With that Nidget left in a huff (not before taking his salary from me again I do actually pay him to be so insolent). I sighed and got to work on my tailoring.  Its amazing what you don't forget over the years, like I can still do all the boring edgework, hemming, embroidering blah blah blah not that you care, but its still there! I'll forget peoples names, lovers faces, but I'll never forget how to sew a button onto a cuff link and make it look snazzy.  I'm actually quite the tailorer, set fashion trends and everything, its my one cross to bear, I'm an adventurer that has saved the world, a prisoner who has lost his mind, and a god killer, but what people will remember most about me will be I make a damn fine sport coat.

Its hard to be Trezlan Lorentino.

The Remnants

The island had fallen apart. I don't mean that like it was tearing itself apart, I mean that where it had once been kind of a lush forest with clean water and plenty of animals, it was now a rotting forest, the water was murkier than one of my jokes and the animals looked like a cross between half dead and unalive (make sense of that I DARE YOU!) Clearly Quinton was something not from this world either, which makes him very much like the Real Hanlon.  When I made it back to his house to retrieve my gear it was also in complete dissarray.

The shorties that mere hours before had been servants were feral running around like crazed animals (I didn't want to think too hard on what exactly Quinton was doing to them to keep them in line prior to his death if they immediately reverted to feral). The house a broken husk that probably was actually a real place before it fell into dissarray and Quinton magically reinvented it.  I took stock of my supplies noted I had no actual way of getting home as the boat that carried me there was probably very much gone. So it came as a little bit of a shock that a boat was waiting for me at the docks, and Hanlon was its captain. It was a huge steam powered paddle boat with gold trim and no passengers. I swear Hanlon's sweeping gestures of grandure just creep me out.

"Congratulations you survived another trap." He was pretty happy considering our location, at least his boat was in nice condition and staffed by polite people that Hanlon himself probably conjured up because as I've said before HE IS NOT A HUMAN ANYTHING!

"You warned me, but it all came out in the wash."

"Ingenious method of destruction I have to commend you on that, I mean just about anything else would have failed, but turning his own creations on him thereby killing him by his own hand? Genius." Have I mentioned its creepy how much Hanlon knows about things that he should not know about? Or how he enjoys murder in an unhealthy way? Because its very very creepy.

"Can we leave I don't want to be here anymore."

"Of course of course," He snapped and someone got my bags of unused war supplies (I have several bags of things that go unused for situations like this, one of these days I'll actually be able to use my preperations, one of these days).

"So who was he really?" We were well on the way Hanlon's large paddle boat when I asked.

"Do you really want to know, or do you want to remain blissfully ignorant of the situation as is your general rule in life?"

"What am I blissfully unaware of?" Hanlon laughed and started to walk away.

"Ok I'll let you believe in your delusion, Quinton was a remnant of something that once was larger, thats all you really need to know, he had no more connection to me than you do to this boat." With that he disappeared (not like into a cabin I mean into the nether of life or wherever Hanlon goes). The boat itself carried me back home and then it too disappeared (into a fog bank but I'm sure if I checked it just flat out disappeared never to return as well).

On the giant spider front there is currently a war being waged up stairs, I hear all sorts of sound and fury, personally I'm trying to think of a language to communicate with my new giant spider overlords.  If I discover one I'll make sure to write it down here so you can take over should I fail to align with them against the disease that is humanity.

Bark Bark Barking on Death's Door

"This is a shame Lorentino." Quinton was dressed ridiculously. Like for me a man who hasn't changed his style in over a hundred years, his outfit was a travesty. He had on high waisted red pants, a ridiculous purple long sleeve shirt (despite it being warm), a vest with all sorts of bullets knives and other hunting accessories, and a stupid hat. It was the picture of failure on so many levels (his shoes were also ugly but unremarkable).  He did have a fairly nasty long barreled rifle (not even hanlon made, so another strike against being the heir), so at least he was somewhat imposing if very fopish looking.

"I like trees." I don't actually like trees.

"I figured there would at least an attempt by you to turn the tables or hide, or anything, but no you got chased by my dogs and then climbed a tree, I have completely misjudged your ability." His voice was that of sadness. Like he was sad I wasn't a better hunt, what a clownhole. The dogs were at his feet, still just lazily laying there, he didn't think that strange, I didn't change his opinion of it.

"As I said I like trees, and I figured why wait I'll just kill you now." There was laughter, even if he had his rifle over his shoulder, it wasn't like I was in a position of strength sitting in a tree 3 fire dogs at its feet and a man with a rifle underneath.

"If only you had prowess to back up all the bravado." He took aim with the rifle and the dogs attacked. Now until this point I'd hoped my magic had worked, and in all honesty I should have tried siccing them on him prior to him having a clean shot at me, but I was also very worried if I did that he'd just kill them before they could be of any use (thus negating my advantage). So I had to wait till he was about to kill me to try and kill him first (brilliant I know hold the applause).  To say he was surprised would be an understatement. The dogs were vicious (well I mean they were fire breathing beasts from somewhere unpleasant) Quinton's screaming was loud up until one of them mercifully crushed his throat and ended the howl. In an odd case of ones own creations being ones downfall (see my own master for this very problem) as soon as Quinton was destroyed his fire dogs dissappeared. So they were some kind of extension of his magical ability, but I turned them against him thanks to some bullshit and blood magic (bullshit and blood magic was the name of my failed book store).  I also could once again cast fire.

There were also some other consequences I'll go into in the next entry, but know now I can control fire dogs to destory their owners.  Also the giant freaking birds are gone! They have been replaced by gods damned GIANT SPIDERS WHAT IS GOING ON!? So yes today sadly I have to report, giant spider monsters have returned.

Bloody Stupid

"Look Dogs you don't like me, I don't like you, but can't we work this out somehow?" Growls gutteral barking that was their response.  I figured their master was coming (how unsporting to use dogs I thought, certainly not something I would have done, though in all honesty I DON'T HUNT PEOPLE FOR SPORT!) so I didn't have a lot of time to get out of the tree and get moving again, but the damn dogs while not actively trying to eat me, weren't leaving even when I asked nicely.  Ordinarily this would be something fire magic could cure (like burn down the tree, wait that would be dumb, which would have probably happened because lets be honest, dumb moves are my moves).

There were three dogs so any attack I made on one I'd get boned by the other two (hopefully not literally). That was assuming that my not exactly stellar sword work would take down the horrific fire breathing beasts.  I had to do something and I was very aware of the time. I figured I'd take a bet and try out some blood magic.  Yes regular magic was not working, but blood magic as I have said in the past (the essence of necromancy using ones own self and ritual as regents instead of natural power) doesn't neccessarily play by the same rules that regular magic does. Most of the time I use a combination of regular magic and necromancy, but I did know techniques to just use the human element and the ritual with no magic. It was not smart to do (especially using ones self as the regent) but I think we both know where I fall on the doing smart things over dumb ones for self survival.

So I sliced my hand open drew numerous sigils and ritual things around the tree and then turned my hand out and let the blood fall below.  The gods for their part eagerly lapped it up, creepily so almost fighting each other to taste my tainted essence (tainted in this case with ritual, not my usual whatever I did to myself style). They reacted immediately, no longer barking or growling they became docile. I breathed a sigh of relief and remained in my tree, because I knew that the hunter was about to become the hunted. Hopefully, I mean it was blood magic used in place where magic was not normally working, I could have just made the beasts happy by letting them drink my blood and the ritual magic did nothing.  Look obviously it worked, but there was no guarentee it was going to work, and that is the hallmark of a Lorentino plan!

Fire Breathing Dogs, This is Normal

"HOT DOGS HOT DOGS!" I was fleeing and kind of screaming at the same time, which wasn't a smart move I'll admit (the screaming uses precious oxygen).  Mere moments before I'd been kind of lazyily walking through the forest (because you know I'm terrible at navigation, honestly I'm terrible prey I probably would have gotten back to Quinton's house had I not run across the fire breathing hounds from some horrible place.

"Why didn't you try and burn them?" Because as I found out when I tried to I had no magic (not even a fizzle just kaput, didn't know if it was a side effect of the poison or the island in general, I didn't feel the usual powerlessness associated with losing magic so I was guessing it was something on the island canceling my ability).

"Why not use your new sword?" You'd ask (because in my mind you are like an annoying child asking questions of everyones motivations for no reason sorry about that).  I did try that! Its how I found out they weren't regular hounds but hounds that breathe fire and did so upon me drawing the sword.

So fleeing became the optimal solution (this is always the case just to tell you, there is never a situation where fleeing is not the smart move, even when fleeing fleeing is a better idea yes that doesn't make sense, no I'm not going to explain it). I ran hard and fast for like five minutes, and then I climbed a tree and the fire dogs waited at the base (they didn't burn it down, because I assume the whole treeing me thing was a part of their plan, damned cunning dogs!).  So yes like common vermin I was stuck in a tree with howling fire dogs at the base without any magic. This is known as a "lose, lose, lose" situation, or in the common vernacular "The Full Lorentino".

Tentacaphobia: Fear of Tentacle Monsters

"How long are you going to lay in the mud?" The voice was in my head slow, like each word took a few seconds to come about but they were clear.

"I'm guessing you are the monster in the lagoon." I stood up because the jig was up as it were, that and I was tired of laying down in mud.

"Monster? Such a tired word for something so grand. I am no monster, anymore than you are good at playing dead."

"What gave me away?"

"Your heat mud thing, I could feel it pulsing as you lay there, also your breath never stopped." Damn and here I thought I was the best at playing dead ever. I couldn't make out the size of the creature, I figured it was buried deep in grotto, probably more in the mud than not, which meant I had no idea of the size of the beast nor where its tentacles may be buried.

"So I figure you do not want to eat me."

"No I do not, you are prey for the master, and the master does not know of me at this time, I'd like to keep it that way, which is why you should leave my grotto." He refered to Quinton as the master, so that at least denoted there was ownership here, of something probably.

"What are you?"

"A monster," It was weird for a toneless voice in my head to be sarcastic, but here it was sarcasm from a voice in my head.

"I deserved that."

"You and your kind have a limited understanding of whats in this world, but know that I mean to cause you no harm as long as you do the same, but should you remain here the master will come and that will be an issue for me."

"So if I stay here."

"I'll eat you."

"Fair enough." It was fair as far as offers go.

"Here take this." From within the grotto a thin blade was ejected, it landed and stuck in the mud near my feet.

"Why are you helping me?" I took up the blade noting it ornate handle and engraved blade, someone had loved the sword a lot before it wound up in the gullet of a monster.

"The master will hunt me soon, possibly after hunting you, I'd hope for you to at least wound him before that time comes, now go you push my patience." And so I was armed with a sword from the gullet of a monster (well I asumme it came from his stomach, maybe he had a chest under the water with him filled with swords). I had hoped for a revolver as I was sure my host would use one against me, but alas beggers can't be choosers and I still had my magic (or so I thought...) But that as always will be the next entry.

On the vermin note, they are gone, now the huge birds that eat the vermin are around and they are causing more problems. I swear this is like some great joke by the gods that each problem gets taken care of by a more annoying problem. Therod of course still blames me!

From Bad to Tentacle Monster

There are several creatures that hide in grottos that can kill large creatures. Some of them are very small parasites, shortys (wait why did I say parasites twice? HA IN YOUR FACE NIDGET!), large aquatic predators, and tenacle monsters.  Yes tenatacle monsters are their own seperate category.  They come in all kinds of shapes and sizes. Some of them are only in the water, some of them live in a kind of hybrid part water, part land, and some we only see the tentacle of we never see the bottom (the most terrifying and largest kind).  They love grottos because its still water, easy to disguise yourself in, and your prey will just walk up to take a drink, despite bones being nearby (the universal symbol for stay far away).

So as you may have guessed the creature that was killing things in the grotto I was in was a damned tentacle monster. I figured this out in the most scientific way possible, by watching a bird land on my chest (for the purpose of pecking my eyes out the little monsters) and then a large tenatcle snatched it and drug it off to its doom. I was wondering why it took the bird and not me when it hit me, because I wasn't moving.  So I could feel the paraylsis was wearing off, but I couldn't do anything for fear of being drug off to my doom by a tenatcle monster. A completely new type of paralysis this time self inflicted. I tell you there have been ferw times I've wished to still be paralysed this was one of them and its weird to admit that.

Also the verminization continues, Therod blames me when I had done nothing to bring this about other than noticing the damn things to begin with. Its completely unfair. I noticed we had a problem I told her about the problem, so it suddenly I was the person who caused the problem, because thats how society works! I do have to tell you vermin tastse all right with proper spices. Currently I'm trying to get that business going as a kind of way of turning this verminnightmare into a money making scheme. No its not working, people have some kind of hang up about eating rats. I know right? Bunch of skiddish babies.

My Life Is Floating On By

Vermin, vermin are everywhere! I thought maybe the little bastard I caught was just an unlucky break but no, no I couldn't be so gods damned lucky. They aren't just in my shop they are all over the damned city.  I swear its some kind of plague brought upon us by an unforgiving god. That has nothing to do with me being stuck in a river floating towards my doom paralyzed (as that was the past, this is the vermin filled present0.

There isn't much to the paralyzed drifting, other than my inherent fear I'd turn over and drown (they laid me into the river on my back so I wouldn't just drown, how kind). I did get to wonder if a bird would come down and peck out my eyeball (I couldn't even blink and birds are evil). I could see a variety of trees and different bugs and birds flying overhead, I couldn't sleep one because I was paralyzed and that makes sleeping hard, and I didn't necessarily want to sleep so that when the paralytic wore off I'd get eaten by wherever I ended up.

And end up I did! Eventually I came to shore in some an offshoot groto of the river/stream/whatever I was drifting in. I washed up on shore and still was not able to move, though I was able to stare at the fairly large bones of whatever had died next to me for quite a while. So that was fun! I tell you there is nothing more fun than washing up in a grotto next to the skeleton of a large creature while you can't move. It's almost as much fun as trying to write a journal entry while a bunch of damned vermin are running around causing havoc!

No spider monsters today, though honestly I'd welcome them to kill all the damned vermin!

The Venomous Tongue is Full of Poison

"You want to what me?" I had to cough like five times to clear all the food I'd mistakenly swallowed from laughing.

"Hunt you, you are a wiley creature more than capable of providing perfect sport for myself." Wiley creature, mark that down folks one of the nicest things someone has ever said about me.

"Right and by that you mean I can kill you right now and not have to worry about being hunted at all.  Look Quinton you have a nice spooky house full of trophies you probably did not earn, but lets be honest here I'm not someone that is taken lightly and you look like a fop, not just any kind of fop but a cheap one." Fop is an insult, you can look up the meaning elsewhere because I don't know the exact one, but Quinton fit it exactly, trust me.

"Such a pithy comment from someone already poisoned." I'd like to say this was a surprise, and it kind of was, but you know with the richly prepared foods I should have expected poison (this is something I should expect everday, its why I drink Val's beers, I'm assuming that the swill will eventually make me immune to every toxin in the known universe).

"I don't feel any..." And then I siezed up like a horse bit by a snake, all of my muscles spasmed at once and I fell out of my chair foam leaking from my mouth on to the carpet. Shorties an army of them came in to lift my paralyzed self up.

"Take him out to the river and toss him in, if he can't survive that he wasn't worth the effort to hunt anyway." I wanted to say something about how I needed a bath, but all I could manage was just more foam coming out of my mouth.  I tell you I hate when everyone else is right and I'm wrong, which is a good thing that never ever happens ever.

Ever.  Also No spider monsters today.

Quinton The Name of Evil

Quinton Hanlon was not a very imposing man. He was young, short (not a shorty but not much taller than one), and balding (which is worse than being bald, because it means you still have hope your hair will return when you should not have it). His skin was very pale denoting a life lived inside, and his voice slightly higher pitched, like a small child who had not reached puberty. And he loved to talk, oh dear gods the man never shut up. From the minute my carriage arrived at his property Quinton talked and talked. He welcomed me in with a nice grin and thanked me for my time and just started talking.

He talked about living on an island, dealing with his staff (all shorties probably to make him feel tall, well that and you can keep them as slaves), about Hanlon and how what direction he wanted to take the company in (as if that was ever going to happen, he tried to sell the lie, but I was not buying it), but most of the talk was hunting. He loved hunting, he had various stuffed dead creatures around his mansion that spoke to his hunting prowess (I'd killed most of the same creatures and privately thought to myself how amazing it was the ones he'd killed hadn't been marred by whatever he had used to kill it). To say he was obsessed with hunting would have been an understatement. He actually talked so much I almost forgot that this was supposed to be about a business proposal in the first place, that was until dinner.

We were seated across from each other at huge table that should have been filled with other people but was not. I had to practically shout to be heard and he did the same (which was damn silly and I'm the king of silly things, this was too silly). The meal was at least nice, some kind of red meat in a delightful sauce with mushrooms. I even had a glass of wine, it occured to me afterwards the meal had a very last meal aspect to it, but like most things, at the time I wasn't that concerned. I was halfway through the meal and enjoying the blessed silence while he chewed (at least he didn't talk while eating, I was spared that). When he finally got to what he wanted from me to begin with.

"You see Mr. Lorentino I want to hunt you." And at that I damn near choked on the meal I was enjoying previously.  Its not everyday someone admits they want to hunt you as a person, but here it was, an asshole rich childish person with a high pitched voice wanted to hunt a hundreds year old necromancer who could have burned him down with a single thought. You might be thinking I choked because it was surprising, but no it was the laughter that welled up out of my throat. Because telling me of all people that? Damn funny!

No spider monsters today, did kill some kind of rat creature, I hope it was the only one, damn vermin.

No Heir No Problem

"I find it a little more than concerning I haven't seen you for a while and then when I'm magically involved with someone possibly connected to you, here you are." I was of course speaking to Hanlon who just showed up on my door step the day after I had accepted his heir's invitation.

"You should be more concerned with the fact I have no heir and this is clearly a trap designed for your own hubris." It might have been touching his concern for me, if he wasn't I dunno some creepy not human creature.

"I know he's not your heir, but I am going anyway because money." Its as good a reason as any.

"He probably doesn't have any money."

"You don't know that, and if you somehow creepily do know that, I don't know that and I will not believe you."

"I think you secretly believe he's a bad person and you want to stop him instead, my gods Lorentino are you, are you thinking of others before yourself?" Some might read sarcasm in that, but no he was being entirely honest and disgusted at the prospect of me being altruistic.

"Nonesense, I'm sure that this guy has money and after he fails to kill me I'll totally take it, besides it might just be an actual vacation." The possibility of that was very low, but you know I have to sometimes be optimistic!

"This is a bad plan on a bad plan, but it is your life to throw away on my non existant heirs, just be aware I will not help you."

"Just like you didn't help me anytime prior to this? Yeah I'll be ok." I swear someone saves your life a couple times and they act like they have always saved it! I at least am not so full of myself to assume people will do what I tell them because I helped them before! Hanlon continued to insist to me I should skip my trip while I was packing (packing mostly things to kill people with I add, because I trust no one).  He was so insistent it had me convicnced he didn't want me to go because of some secret of his not out of concern for me! I mean he was right it was a trap, and he was right I kind of wanted to stop this guy out of concern for others (I blamed my recent interaction with The Marked One for this, which funny story on that, well you'll just have to read ahead!) But I finished my packing, he finished his complaining and I went off to the trap properly prepared and not prepared at all.

At least I had a nice train and boat ride, even though I hate boats, the trip was nice! And that's all I'll talk about arriving at the heir of Hanlon a nice young man named Quinton who tried to kill me.  Yes thats a bit of a spoiler, but you knew that was going to happen anyway.