Post by Than on May 17, 2010 14:20:47 GMT -8
Night One of My Stay:
It is cold as I sit here in the weakly lit room at the Snake's Bite Inn. Cold air pours through every crevice between the boards as I sit on the edge of the small bed and plot. I stole a map from a young merchant today and have set it up on my wall. Soon it shall rest on the wall of my base camp where my followers may look upon it and see their master's brilliant plan as it plays out. Except for that daemon, she seems heel-bent on destroying my plans even though we only met but hours ago on my journey here. She hates that I've put her into a life debt, a curse some would say. I say it's more like a way to level the playing field. That little creature would have destroyed after my mouth had begun to leak the truth of my full intentions, but now the prey become the predator as I hold her in my grasp.
So long as I hold her in my debt she can do no harm to me, but with words. And her words are weak, if I could writing all the words she said when we first met in this very room to discuss my plan, I call it a discussion even though all she did was sit in the corner and spit curses, I would have three full parchments of curses and a quarter of a sheet of actual sane and logical phrasing. But, that meeting was over as soon as it begun, I sent her on her way to collect information from the taverns about the rogues and rebels hiding in Litharia. It occurs to me that they live mostly in the Southern Boil, a reason for her to search for certain, "famous" rogues living there. But on to what happened after the fateful meeting...
A minstrel strayed to close to the alley behind my room and I took him, both in life and cloth. I do not wear these effects as of now for they are only for my meetings with potential financiers. This city is filled with corrupt merchants, traders, business men, waiting to gain more profit by plundering the Fae's treasure vaults under my rule. Little do they know that the vaults I speak of are few and lack substance, but I haven't opened my mouth yet so far as I could surely loose them in my truths. Ignorant curses, I call it a curse for it hurts more than it helps. To not lie is to not share the same threads that bind all other races to this world. I ASK THE HEAVENS WHO INSTALLED THIS LAW, THIS MOCKERY, THIS CURSE!
But yet, I find that it can have it's advantages. It allows me to converse with the most skeptic people in the world and still gain their support through the mere fact that I can not lie to them. But it can not yet be seen what will happen from it as I go through the night in my chills. I must lay down now, for tomorrow I must go and meet a man about a caravan into the Southern Boil.
Than
It is cold as I sit here in the weakly lit room at the Snake's Bite Inn. Cold air pours through every crevice between the boards as I sit on the edge of the small bed and plot. I stole a map from a young merchant today and have set it up on my wall. Soon it shall rest on the wall of my base camp where my followers may look upon it and see their master's brilliant plan as it plays out. Except for that daemon, she seems heel-bent on destroying my plans even though we only met but hours ago on my journey here. She hates that I've put her into a life debt, a curse some would say. I say it's more like a way to level the playing field. That little creature would have destroyed after my mouth had begun to leak the truth of my full intentions, but now the prey become the predator as I hold her in my grasp.
So long as I hold her in my debt she can do no harm to me, but with words. And her words are weak, if I could writing all the words she said when we first met in this very room to discuss my plan, I call it a discussion even though all she did was sit in the corner and spit curses, I would have three full parchments of curses and a quarter of a sheet of actual sane and logical phrasing. But, that meeting was over as soon as it begun, I sent her on her way to collect information from the taverns about the rogues and rebels hiding in Litharia. It occurs to me that they live mostly in the Southern Boil, a reason for her to search for certain, "famous" rogues living there. But on to what happened after the fateful meeting...
A minstrel strayed to close to the alley behind my room and I took him, both in life and cloth. I do not wear these effects as of now for they are only for my meetings with potential financiers. This city is filled with corrupt merchants, traders, business men, waiting to gain more profit by plundering the Fae's treasure vaults under my rule. Little do they know that the vaults I speak of are few and lack substance, but I haven't opened my mouth yet so far as I could surely loose them in my truths. Ignorant curses, I call it a curse for it hurts more than it helps. To not lie is to not share the same threads that bind all other races to this world. I ASK THE HEAVENS WHO INSTALLED THIS LAW, THIS MOCKERY, THIS CURSE!
But yet, I find that it can have it's advantages. It allows me to converse with the most skeptic people in the world and still gain their support through the mere fact that I can not lie to them. But it can not yet be seen what will happen from it as I go through the night in my chills. I must lay down now, for tomorrow I must go and meet a man about a caravan into the Southern Boil.
Than