28 years later

Azrael's Thoughts Vol. 1

It can always get worse

This has been the worst two years of my life; and that’s saying something. I’m stuck in this gods forsaken orphanage with hardly any food, no bed, no room and don’t even get me started on the horrific odor of the dwarves. Granted I’ve dealt with worse in my day, but it’s just so damn boring around here. I bet the old crones at the temple have more excitement at the convent.

I thought I would finally leave this place soon and seek revenge for my masters death; if it is true that Lesini set us up. The other day though things got very interesting. The retarded dwarf went underground and got himself outside the walls and in some trouble with a band of Orcs. Personally I would have let the smelly bastard (seriously do dwarves eat goblin feces or does ale just make you smell bad?) get what was coming to him but the prospect of actually doing something forced me to go rescue him.

We had to climb through this tiny tunnel to get underground but it barely larger than Dmitri’s size, I mean hello have you looked at us? We’re quite larger than gnomes even though there’s no food. Not to mention how did he get the Dwarf to go through that tiny orifice in the first place, I’ll have to ask Dmitri how that went down.

I chose to take point since I’m far more accustomed to danger than the rest of these boys, although the demon seems like he knows how to handle himself in a fight, he could prove useful if he’s willing to do what it takes to get the job done. I’ll be keeping an eye on him, he’s got potential.

I digress, as I was entering the tunnel however the oddest thing happened, I was stopped in my tracks by visions. I thought things like that only happened to Arcanists, but apparently not for these visions were so vivid, so real it paralyzed me. I can still remember them clearly a dark haired woman in a white dress moving towards me with elegant and graceful steps, roses still fresh and fully bloomed with a dark crimson color, and a shadow some dark figure, indistinct and difficult to make out.

Not wanting to show weakness I acted as if nothing had happened and moved on into the hole. Eventually we came upon a large gorge which we had to use a rope to swing across, that was actually fun. After that we ran into the walking dead, ah how I missed the pleasure of killing or re-killing. Whatever you call it the thrill of battle was intoxicating. We later ran into more of these abominations and it was just as joyful butchering them the second time as it was the first.

Of course things went astray when when entered those damned doors and sprung some kind of magical trap. The spells just kept popping off and while it did knock the wind out of me I quickly gathered myself and sought my vengeance against the green vagabonds.

Unfortunately we were able to save the odorous ale tankard, and the whole thing started over a fight for a spoon. It was a magic spoon that makes gruel, BLOODY GRUEL! I was so infuriated that we did all this for nothing. Of course the dullards were in their glory, we killed stuff and got gruel. Well Jack of Tides for you dolts; I’m a bloody assassin, I kill people and my services are revered and paid handsomely for. I don’t save smelly Dwarves (or travel with people who can’t afford footwear, I mean seriously why doesn’t the human wear shoes? What is he a bloody Halfling, BUY SOME BOOTS!, or do it the old fashioned way and steal some) and I don’t get excited about gruel. I’m a bloody ASSASSIN!

Well if there’s anything I’ve learned it’s that it can always get worse, and knowing luck it probably will.



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