Proceeding the battle, we were asked to escort the prisoners into their jail cells. Lucius and I were instructed to do so. For the first time since I met him, the sight of Lucius, now a good friend of mine, angered me. The notion of his ‘unconditional’ justice irritated me, regardless of its legitimacy. The hatred I felt after the battle felt trivialized by his mere presence. I asked Lucius if I could escort the prisoner alone, stating that he should assist the injured Kneecappers. Being the kind soul he is, he agreed, but seemed to see more of my scheme than I had originally expected him to. Regardless, this was not going to stop me.
I arrived at the prison, met by a somewhat kind man who watched over the establishment. He said I could take the prisoner into the cell, and I later persuaded him to let me ‘interrogate’ our new friend. I informed him that the prisoner was in a critical state and that he might not last the night. He believed me, but clearly had an inkling of suspicion. It seemed he shared a similar complex to Lucius. He subtly peered at me during my conversations with the man, keeping a close eye on us.
The prisoner, bloodied and battered, addressed me in a brusk and trivializing tone. He clearly seemed to understand that the townsfolk didn’t believe in executing prisoners. Unluckily for him, I am not like the simpletons of Dayhill. Drunk and thrilled off my sheer hatred, I told the prisoner my plans of killing him with a large grin on my face. I was practically shaking with excitement watching him tremble and beg. I began to conjure a deadly spell, however, the guard was onto me and asked me to leave. I was not going to let this man live, though. As I exited the cell, I had Teto stay back and conclude the spell I was preparing, one of my lethal snowballs that has fared me so well in the past. I attempted to distract the prison guard as the tiny scorpion let forth the barrage of snowballs. Sadly, however, Teto completely missed the mark, alerting both the guard and the prisoner to my schemes. Now with blades drawn to me, I knew the gig was up. I smiled and attempted to play it off as a joke, to moderate degrees of success—I left with my head, but also with a bad reputation on it.
Still…I am not sure what has come over me recently. Never in my life have I felt such a sheer, unbridled desire to slaughter in the name of equity. Like a man lost in the desert parched for water, my insatiable urge for their blood has plagued me since that day. I managed to bridle these emotions for the time being, though. I met up with the team once more and we decided to call it a well-deserved night.
The following morning, I decided to purchase a flower to lay upon the grave of Phethean (and one for Marnay too jokingly one for that little girl in the Kneecappers.) I could not get the thought of Thoric, Lucius, and the jailer out of my head—it sickened me how sympathetic they could be to such scum of the earth. I only knew of one bastard in the town who could possibly share this frustration with me—Crastur, the man who scammed us earlier in our journey.
I approached what was left of the 3-walled bar and let myself in. Inside stood a distraught Crastur and two strangers looking straight at the ground. Sympathetic, I went to the counter and attempted to console the upset barkeep over the loss of his pub, letting him know that I would be happy to help in any way that I can. Unsurprisingly, he snapped back at me asking what I was trying to pull, while having one of his cronies threaten me with pointed blades. So typical of scum like him. I smirked and simply told him that I wanted to help him out, and that while I deeply respect the Hands, I wanted to perform a more effective type of work on the side. The bastard had the audacity to snap back once more, accusing me of disloyalty. My jovial front was now gone. I called out the lowly piece of horseshit for what he was, and got up and left. He told me he would be in touch. Typical bottom-feeding trash, they are. They don’t deserve a hero like myself in their ranks.
After this irritating meeting, the Sentinels met up once more to receive our reward from the lady of the town herself. This excited me, as royal connections as well as lavish praise have always been a soft spot for me. Gawain seemed rather anxious around the company of royalty, but I didn’t press him on it—I wanted this experience to be as painless as possible for all of us. Disappointingly, however, the lady of the town simply offered basic praise and little reward, wrapped around the finger of her obnoxious advisor, Shortwood. Oh well. Typical royalty. She did inform us of the court wizard’s arrival, stating that she would introduce us to him. I was happy to hear this—I love getting to know fellow arcanists. But there was nothing I could do to prepare for the man who entered the room: Lucan Valerius himself.
No. Forget this town, forget the Hands, forget everything. All bets are off. I had dedicated my entire life to fleeing from this man, and my friends merely ask that I relax as he stands in front of me? Scum, all of them. I returned to the Hands of Heironus to both announce my withdrawal as well as say goodbye to the Kneecappers. I entered the north wing to Marnay and Thortona watching over an injured Matrena. I did not have time to explain the specifics, so I gave Marnay the last rose I ever would hand to her, and Thortona a rose to place on Phethian’s resting place. Upon hearing of my departure, Matrena had the audacity to call me a coward. How could they not realize I was doing this to protect them? I would expect nothing less from scum like her. I left the room and took my things, only to be met by a somber Thoric blocking my exit.
The sullen dwarf who I had grown so fond of was deeply insulted by my departure, going as far to say I would become an enemy of the Hands. You can call me a traitor, you can torture me, but having a man like Thoric express his disappointment is just off-limits. And yet, here he was. He did, however, reassure me that it was either I die alone in the wilderness, or die fighting against the evil that stood before us. Lucius and Gawain chimed in as well, echoing this sentiment. I had never been more conflicted in my entire life. However, after an internal battle, I knew I had no choice but to stay and face Lucan head-on. Shaken, I agreed to remain within the ranks of Hands of Heironus. However, literal seconds after this, Thoric decides that it would be a great time to send us on a scouting missive from an anonymous contractor. Ah, dwarves and their famous subtlety…