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Catching Up

Tythe’s Journal

Yeah, Iím drunk. What of it? I wanted that thrice-damned creature of filth impaled on my sword after all weíd been through and he escaped!

The old man in the street was too slow and I took the bottle from him with a flourish of my rapier. Laughing as I bowed to him, I threw the gold with a wink to see his look of anger turn to one of drunken glee as he realized Iíd just given him enough to stay drunk for a week. Removing my sword from the handle of the jug sheathing sword and raising the bottle to my lips I ran to catch up with the rest. Where to now? Who cares. I need a drink. More rum!

Too much has happened for me to keep up with in the past days. My mind swims and itís not just because of the booze. I sit here in the dark on watch, waiting, keeping myself ready for the assassinís blade not because I fear it but because I have sworn to kill everyone and anyone who may have had to do with Zanduís death. He was a good man and didnít deserve to die. I should have been at his back not playing at the indignant dignitary. As chaotic an individual as he was he will be sorely missed by all of us.

I think the trouble began long before any of us realized. Things went so well at the ball that we became over confident so that while Zandu and Salma were taking the Princess to their destination and Astrid and I were making our way back to the Golden Griffin after, the plans were already in place to trap us. It was at the cost of Zanduís death that we barely managed to escape. We found our employer dead, the one whom we were to kidnap was gone and now we hide in this room waiting, for what— for me to get drunker for one thing for the others to heal and for our dear Salma to calm and regain herself.

I donít know how this young hunter? came to be with us. But his arrow came in handy more than once so I guess weíll keep him. I almost wish I hadnít jokingly twisted that ring I found on the dead assassinís finger. It was a waste of time running around in the dark like I did and I nearly got myself killed. And the others for that matter since they chose to follow me. I can only say it was a good thing I was back where Iíd first found myself when they appeared. I was able to lead them away from the direction Iíd gone and after a fight that seemed almost anticlimactic we found another room similar to the one we first entered the place through and I once again impulsively gave my ring a twist.

Iíve got to say I really hate ghosts but where did I end up taking my companions and myself but the cliff region of Absalom. Haunted and deadly it was not a place to be caught out in the dark. And it wasnít long before the place lived up to its name and we were once again fighting for our lives. No ghost thank whatever Gods played with our lives this night but creatures such as Iíd never seen. They attacked in numbers but were small and hard to hit with arrow or steel. We managed to fight them off for a time but they regrouped and attacked again but the sun showed a sliver of light over the distant horizon and the things didnít seem to like that and those we hadnít managed to kill left us and we made our way back to the Golden Griffin and now here we are. What started out to be a day of healing and resting and just regrouping became for most of us a day of watching, waiting, looking in every shadow for a dagger, every flash of light a sword, but it never came. Instead we were quietly subtly ensnared within our own curiosity by a tiny creature that looked and felt and seemed in every way perfectly harmless yet it nearly killed Salma burrowing itself into her chest by means of tiny clawed feet and tendrils that entered her flesh. We managed to get the thing off her and trap it in a crate supplied by the manager’s daughter who went to the local market to secure it. And now here I sit just trying to remember through rum-hazed memory the occurrences of the past few days staring at a tiny thing wondering just what use this thing could be to us.

The rum running through me like fresh blood through the dried-out husk of a vampire I hold the coin in my hand flipping it over and over, multicolored reflections of mythical creatures seeming to stand before my eyes until I lay my hand upon the thing, covering it and raise it once again to my eye. Itís tails, a creature like a dog but with three heads tearing at the body of a giant spider-like creature, the dark half of my soul wins out once again and I look to a tiny creature lying under a cloak in a crate. I can only hope it lives long enough for me to do what I must do. The assassins that have been following us must be sent by that vile bastard that weíve been fruitlessly chasing all over Absalom. By the time I catch one, if I can catch one, our little one-eyed friend should be good and hungry and assassin will make as good a meal as any after first answering a few questions; but if it dies from hunger in the mean time then we are out nothing. I catch my eye reflected in the coin looking like an inset ruby, the purple iris turning dark and bloody. It seems Iím going to have to fight harder to contain the darkness within me. I do not wish to become my sister. She opened herself up to the darkness that was heritage from our Drow mother. I pick up the bottle on the nearby table, look at it and throw it across the room to smash in a corner. No more; Iím done with that. There is a hunter that needs hunting and something vile that needs expunged.

Posted by Jon on March 13, 2009, 02:17 | Tythe’s Journal