Macendamandel 9 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar)

The everwake syrup those Lodestone humps gave me is finally starting to work its way out of my system and the weird marionette feeling of being held up by strings in a drug-fueled frenzy (it’s hard to explain what it felt like – everything felt “yellow”) I was feeling is now being replaced by the weird dying dog sensation of being dragged down by massive anchors on my limbs.  Anchors made out of . . . whatever that really heavy metal is.  You know what I mean.  Why are anchors made of metal?  Doesn’t that mean they’re going to rust?  Shouldn’t it be a big hunk of stone instead?  Stone doesn’t rust.  But metal is stones right?  I guess the chain would still be made of metal and that would rust so you may as well go whole hog right?  There’s a drink called a rusty anchor, its gin, lemon juice, whiskey, honey, and then a bunch of herbs and spices.  It’s awful. 

Since I feel like there’s a better than decent chance that I’ll die (by dream murder) if I fall asleep I continued trundling around my tiny cell switching the goal from burning off excess drug energy to staying awake.  But as the night wore on I was feeling more and more drained until the point where my weary shuffling was too much to even to think about.  I ended up just clinging to the bars trying to keep myself upright.  I made a fun game of it, pretending that I was hanging onto the side of a cliff and if I slackened my grip at all I would fall and be dashed to pieces on sharp rocks below.  After a while my labored breathing started bothering the woman in the other cell and she asked me impolitely to shut the hell up.  I couldn’t even gather the energy to open my eyes to look at her as I nailed her with this stunning retort.

“You’ve said two things in two days and they were both shushing me so you could sleep – what do you need so much sleep for?”

Her voice was full of recrimination “Because I’m pregnant!”

I nodded as best I could with my head pressed against the bars, that small movement made my head swim “That would do it.  You look great for a pregnant lady.”

She scoffed and or sneered and next I heard Wolfy’s voice from the other cell the other way “You’re looking pretty weary there, any particular reason you’re clinging to those bars instead of getting some sleep?”

“If I fall asleep I’ll die.  A witch put a curse on me because I said her shabble was stupid.”

“That sounds like something an insane person would say but coming from you somehow I believe it.”

“The truth often sounds crazy because the world is crazy.  Some people that think they’re going insane aren’t going insane, they’re become lucid in a very crazy world.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Five days.”

“Well, you look great for a woman that’s been awake for five days straight.”

“Thank you.”

“I have a bucket of my waste over here, do you want me to throw that on you to wake you up?”

“No I do not, but thanks for the offer.”

“If you change your mind the bucket isn’t going anywhere.  There’s these monks in Dorumt that practice a form of mediation that allows them to recover just like they’re sleeping.  They go into this trance where they’re still awake and aware of everything around them but in their minds they’re reliving experience from their life so they can learn from their mistakes.  Too bad you can’t do something like that.”

“Yes it is, although I don’t make mistakes so that part would be lost on me.”

“Of course, your being here is all part of the plan.”

I don’t know how much time passed, it could have been a couple minutes or it could have been a week – time lost all meaning as I wrapped my arms around those cold rough bars and hung there like my life depended on it (which it did coincidentally).  When I first heard Martialla’s voice I assumed that I was hallucinating, auditory hallucinations are much more common and visual ones you know.  A guy told me that once.  You look like him.  But he wasn’t either.  I conjured up the fortitude needed to open my eyelids even though they weighed seventeen thousands tons.  Standing before me was one of the guards – filthy padded armor, ill-fitting helmet, jowly unshaven face, filthy little rat eyes – but the voice coming out of “his” flapping piggish lips  was Martialla’s.

“I said that you look like shit and you have no response?”

“You need to learn a spell that alters your voice, your disguises suck.”

“I’ll get right on that, they’re fine when I’m with you since I can never get in a word edgewise or any otherwise.  What are you doing there?  Making love to those bars?”

“Yes, I have that syndrome where you grow to love your abuser.”

“Is that what happened to me with you?”

“You’re free to leave any time you want and no court and prove otherwise.”

“Well let’s get you out of there.”

“Does that mean the Duke isn’t going to come through?”

“The Duke?  You mean the guy you’re trying to kill?  Come through with what?”

“No, the other Duke, you know . . . the one.  I guess that ugly little bastard was telling the truth.  When I was in Cathars someone came to visit me and said that he was a lawyer, he said that he’s work with you to contact Duke Lodvocka and see if he could get me out of this jam.  But once I was here one of the lumber jerks said that that lawyer guy was their plant, and also that they had murdered you.”

“Some guys did try to kill me but I made it clear of them, after that I got here as quickly as I could.  Ironically it’s a good thing they transferred you here because this never would have worked in Cathars, that place was buttoned up tighter than a fatman’s cumberbun.”

“Cummerbund not cumberbun you yokel, and they don’t have buttons.”

She scowled with her borrowed face “Begging your pardon miss high and mighty, you want to get rescued or not?”

“Not sure, as soon as I fall asleep I think I’m going to die.”

“Sure, sure, I read that book about the girl that couldn’t go to sleep because of the monsters.  Didn’t you get the end though?  It turned out there were no monsters and she was scared for nothing.  Her mom said all about it.”

“That’s what the monsters would like for you to believe.  And don’t pretend you can read you low class . . . . . person.”

She snorted “What a devastating turn of phrase.  Dream stuff huh?” I nodded wearily “Well we’ll figure something out, no use in hanging around here to do it huh?”

Wolfy practically jumped through the bars of his cell “I can help with that, I know an apothecary who’s no friend to the Consortium.”

“He’s probably lying but let’s bust him out anyway, and the annoying preggo too.”

Martialla threw up the meaty arms of the guard who’s appearance she was stealing “Sure, let’s let everyone out in all the other rooms too, that should make getting away easy!”

“That’s not a bad idea, turn all the criminals loose and sneak away in the chaos.” 

“You and I have very different definitions of what a bad idea is.”


Funds: None

XP: 1,190,751

Inventory: Whiterock family signet ring (Ring of Binding)

Revenge List: Duke Eaglevane, Piltis Swine, Rince Electrum, watchman Gridley, White-Muzzle the worg, Percy Ringle the butler, Alice Kinsey , “Patch”, Heroes of the Lost Sword, Claire Conrad, Erist priest of Strider, Riselda owner of the Sage Mirror, Eedraxis,  Skin-Taker tribe, Kartak, Królewna & Bonifacja Trading Company, Hurmont Family, Androni Titus, Greasy dreadlocks woman, Lodestone Security, Kellgale Nickoslander, Beltian Kruin the Splithog Pauper, The King of Spiders, Auraluna Domiel, mother Hurk, Mazzmus Parmalee,  Helgan van Tankerstrum, Lightdancer, Bonder Greysmith, Pegwhistle Proudfoot, Lumbfoot Sheepskin, Lumber Consortium of Three Rivers, Hellerhad the Wizard, Forsaken Kin, Law Offices of Office of Glilcus and Stolo, Jey Rora, Colonel Tarl Ciarán, Mayor Baras Haldmeer, Rindol the Sage, Essa, eyeless hag, Baron Saltwheel, Baron Harmenkar, Colonel Tarl Ciarán’s wizard soldier, Victor, Beharri, Cebuano, Mayor Eryn, Chimera Trading Company, maker of the manacles, Calvados Eure, Law Offices of Lampblack and Brimstone