Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

[Inside the burgundy-leather, bindings, a collection of poems, drawings, what seem to be musical compositions for violin, and thoughts. The script is fluid, written in a graceful hand. On bleached parchment… the red ink looks like blood. The thoughts within… perhaps the closest thing to the truth… of Maeve Ceara Clancy.
[Burned into the inside cover is simply the words:


The dates are ambiguous, the dialogue is often addressed to someone, or to herself… rambling musings and poetry fill parchment in very precise script]

“My dearest sister. As you dance in the moonbeams above, and guard the secrets we gave to the stars all those years… I pray the Mistshadow keep me well hidden from all eyes but your own. I cannot give my secrets to you face to face any longer, and I promise Anders will suffer for that greatly. I did promise. Only promise I ever made… and I will keep it. For now my secrets are here, and maybe someday… I can again give them to you. Whispered to the stars, until we have filled the skies. Mist and Shadow! How I miss you my dear sister! Guard me well… lest I cannot guard myself.”
~~

[ENTRY ONE]

Most stories start with once upon a time. Most stories end with ‘They lived happily ever after.’ This story starts without frills and refinements. I doubt very seriously that it will end happily ever after either. I was once told that happy endings are simply stories that haven’t finished yet. I would be inclined to believe based wholly on past experience.

There was a woman and a man at a tavern. She offered flesh. Plain and simple. She wanted Black Lotus, and hardly cared what lows she may have had to drag herself to in order to pay for it. That’s it. That is where it started. Some seedy, back-alley, rotting hole that smelled of ale, sweat, blood and opiates. Mother was a harlot, plain as the sun in the midday sky. Don’t know much about my father, save that he must have been a total pile of stinking rot to be with my mother like that. Bastard.

There came a time when I realized that -I- didn’t have to pay for her habits. I didn’t have to suffer for them. Not that Anders or my -dear sweet mum- agreed. Anders can rot in the hells. Mother was so far gone to the opiates I doubt she noticed I even left… and the only reason she will care is when the Lotus runs out. No sympathy from me. None of them deserve it. Least of all me. Pity leaves you open to other things. Things that get you hurt or killed in short order. There are no happy endings. Only bittersweet lessons, and poems borne of tears and deception. The only truth is a lie, the only song… a sad lament.
~~

[ENTRY TWO]

Maeve Ceara Clancy is dead. In her place stands Scarlett Willow. May the Lady of the Mists bless my deception, and guard my secrets well. The past went up in a blaze. Fitting I think. And like the poetic phoenix… I step from the flames. Re-forged. Scarlett Willow. Serves them right. This is my life. I will live it how I choose. Never again will I be the harlot to pave someone else’s filth-laden streets with gold. Never again will I be anyone’s! I will not be caged, I will not be restricted. From now on, I go my own way.
~~

[ENTRY THREE]

Anders. What a sod. Filthy swine that he is. Should have slit his throat. Tell me that I -belong- to him. Hells. Scarlett is -no one’s-! Anyone that dares say otherwise can rot in the Belly of the Nines. Cale is dead at least. That bloody bastard walks the hells without hands or a tongue… and I was being nice. Even if Anders does seek me, he won‘t find me. Lady of Deception guard my secrets well. My darling mother and most of his lackeys… and most of the Black Lotus literally went up in smoke.

It was so -easy-. To let the anger go, to stand up… watch them bleed and burn. The poor bastards didn’t even know. So busy rotting in their opiate haze… did they even feel the flames? They deserve it. Everyone of them. How many had sold wives and children to pay for their next fix? How many had done worse? Killed innocents? Robbed the impoverished and blind? For what? A wanton night filled with smoke? Filth. Burned it all to the ground. Hopped the first boat out of Waterdeep.

Thank the gods I grabbed some of the Waterdhavian Red… Anders kept a few good years. Nice bottles. Suppose I can thank the bastard for the wine and the coin… And the gear. Rich off of the pain of others. It was a -kindness- to the populace that I robbed the rat blind. Put his ill-gotten coin to better use. My use. The whole stinking pile of wretches owe me that much.
~~

[ENTRY FOUR]

The Mistshadow blanketed the waters in heavy fog. I tried not to laugh as the sailors cursed the fog and rambled of ill omens. Bloody superstitious fools! Leira guards me well… guards my secrets. Safe in her shroud, I traveled. It was slow going, but I worried not.

The crew arrived in Baldur’s Gate, on a foggy night… two men short. It was assumed that they had fallen overboard. Blamed poor visibility and slippery decks. In truth… they shouldn’t have tried to take what wasn’t theirs to take. Men are slathering pigs. Those that aren’t are worse than simpering women.

Baldur’s Gate isn’t much different than Waterdeep, save that I am out of reach of Anders, and no one knows me here. I am just another pretty, angry face. Another ‘Hood’. People are a presumptuous and judgmental lot. No matter. Let them assume as they will… saves me the trouble of hiding the truth. Sometimes the truth people invent for themselves is far better than any lie I could spin. Let them think what they will. I hardly care so long as they stay the Hells out of my way.
~~

[ENTRY FIVE]

‘I already be hatin' this bloody city.’

I turned from my wine and contemplation… the poem lost before it had taken form in my mind. I was about to unleash a string of less than pleasant words at the stinking pile of dwarf that stood next to me, but sarcasm won…

‘Wonderful, a cranky dwarf.’

‘Aye, I be wonderful fer certain. Thanks fer noticin'.’

‘You are either smarter than you look or as dumb as you smell.’

‘Watch yer tongue girlie, or ye be losin' it soon enough.’

He smirked.

‘You going to sit down or stand there and gawk?’

‘Well since ye be askin' so nice-like.’

Bloody dwarf grunted and snorted. Must be a product of breeding… or a bad cold. Either way, he wasn’t some fawning, do-good, copper-witted, pansy.

‘Now who is throwing insults? What do gawking dwarves drink hmm, Snuffles?’

‘Wha'eva the bleedin' Hells be available. Ale be the drink o' choice o' course.’

‘Good you can ask the pretty barmaid for an ale, and order me some more wine while you are at it.’

I drained my glass and grinned at the sullen one.

‘Since my drink is gone.’

‘Get yer own bloody drink, woman.’

I don’t believe in love at first sight… or really even friendship at first glance… but I liked the damned dwarf. Mist and Shadow… the little runt could take as easy as he could dish it.

‘It is true. They -don't- teach dwarves manners.’

‘Maybe they do, I just not be carin'.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Bein' nice nevah got me anywhere, lass.’

‘Who in the Nines said anything about being nice?’

‘Are ye daft? Ye were talkin' about bloody manners.’

‘It isn't nice to buy a girl a drink… its practical, and one need not have manners to be -nice-. I choose to have manners and avoid -nice-.’

‘Tha' be bleedin' brilliant, girl.’

‘So. Red wine then, and if you want manners I will even say please.’

I grinned pleasantly as the Dwarf stood to get the drinks, quite pleased with the whole thing. I leaned back in my chair and eyed the other tavern patrons. The Dwarf grumbled and sputtered. I couldn’t help but chuckle at his begrudged compliance.

‘Eh, red wine and an ale, lass.’

‘Don't forget to say 'please' …’

I called teasingly over my shoulder.

‘-Please-’

Ah yes. This was going to be a grand day. Snuffles and I were going to get along swimmingly. Gargrim Kegsplitter, Grim. Not too shabby for a dwarf. For once… I wasn’t the weakling beneath a man’s boot. I was Scarlett Willow. The Crimson Phoenix. Born of ash and wanton… Reborn of blood and fire.
~~

[ENTRY SIX]

The rest of the day was spent doing odd jobs and getting used to the new environment. There was one fellow I am sure I am going to have trouble with… reminds me of Cale. Filthy snake. Wonder if he screams like Cale too when his hands are taken off a finger at a time?

So I was sitting there, enjoying the evening with a fellow poet. And this blathering idiot comes sauntering up. And like a typical male with more brains between his legs than his ears… ugh. Sodding swine…

‘So um, I'm Joonie Steamdrops. Its nice to meet ye.’

‘Scarlett.’

The Low-brained Swine had to interject of course…

‘I am Jarek.’

The woman and I resumed our conversation.

‘So you mentioned bad guys before Scarlett, what sorts have you been giving trouble too lately?’

I smirked at her even as my eye caught the bastard looking at me like I was some sort of prize. I let his eyes take in what his hands would never touch as I contemplated his screams… and possibly feeding his eyes to him after I took his hands. Then the bastard spoke and ruined my happy little day dream.

‘Mmmm… I’m wondering if trouble from her is good or bad.’

I glared at him and adjusted my grip on my blade.

‘Come here and find out.’

He of course is an idiot… and continued his flailing attempt at innuendo.

‘Fiery…I like that, and I like that look in your eyes. I feel like you really want to kill me.’

Oh he had no idea how much I really wanted to… but the bloody guards were everywhere. Deciding it best to ignore him mostly, I turned back to Joonie to answer her question. My tone and intent were plenty clear even then… as was my contempt of Jarek. Did I mention he is a slathering pig? Suppose I did.

‘The sort that doesn't know when to back the hells off.’

It continued until I weighted risking a fight in front of the guards… and waiting patiently. Patience served in the past. I waited until Anders and Cale were distracted with their little harems. Cale was of course disappointed that I wasn’t there to play pin cushion… no I was patient… and that night I was the pins and needles… Patience indeed. This Jarek rat would be trouble… but not indefinitely.

Fortunately, later… Grim came back and saved me from the influx of simpering women-men and holier than thou, do-rights. One of the Cod-for-brained fools actually wanted a hug… idiots! Still I suppose as places go… this is better than Waterdeep.

Scarlett Willow… Willows bend but do not break… I will not break… I am the Crimson Phoenix. I will stand above them as they fall away. I am no man’s plaything… no woman’s tool… I am no one’s. Mist and Shadow guard my secrets well…
~~

[ENTRY SEVEN]

What do they know! Self-righteous, judgmental bastards. Look down on me because I don’t share their cheery optimism. I was sitting around the campfire trying to work on my poetry. Unfortunately every bleeding heart in the blasted Gate was sitting there feeling sorry for the select few of us who did not adhere to their cheery, asinine ways. The hugger was there with his lady friend, a cheery little twit with a liking for far too much color, an absolute nut who spoke of himself in the third person and more ego than most elves have. There was one fellow there with some sense. Heartless Bastard. Not as much of an idiot as most.

‘The city really should have some sort of institution to help people like this.’

Said the first and only Tiefer I had ever seen give a damn about anyone but themselves… thought the demon-blooded rats were supposed to be… meaner. What in the Nines was wrong with this place if it could turn the daughter of a demon-blooded harlot … nice? Ugh… its like my only choices are Cale copies or bleeding heart idealists… normal folk like Grim and this Heartless fellow were proving a rarity.

‘Right, 'cause the city has shown itself to be very productive when it comes to such things.’

His tone dripped with sarcasm, and I tried not to laugh. I liked him already. I studied this Radagast nut for a minute and spoke.

'Why have an institution? I hear lobotomy works wonders…'

‘Lobotomy. . .-lobo- for wolf. . .And -tomy- for book. So you're going to give him a book on wolves?’

Rainbow was an idiot as well as a color nightmare. I looked at her

‘No miss… Lobotomy is an operation to remove part of the brain… think if we worked on his from the neck up he would be much better off. Then again… he is faintly amusing.’

‘Sometimes talking to friends can help solve problems too.’

Rainbow said in response to something Heartless had said. I missed what he said because I was contemplating giving them all lobotomies from the neck up…

‘Come now, lass. I thought you became aware of the folly of such things…’

Seems Rainbow and Heartless knew each other. Poor guy.

‘Emrys, sweetie. Pessimism makes you right more frequently than an optimist, but optimists are happier, even when they're proven wrong.’

He rolled his eyes at Rainbow and I continued to ignore as much of the conversation as I could.

‘I'd rather know the truth than be blind by ignorance. To choose ignorance is to choose foolishness.’

‘Now there is an illusion -gorgeous-… Happiness is the biggest lie of all.’

I quipped to Rainbow.

‘Good on you, lass.’

Heartless and I exchanged wry grins. The exchanges continued until the nut job left. Rainbow muttered about not being able to deal with the negativity, and left. Thank the Gods for whatever small comfort they sought to extend in that blessing. The whole thing was so sickeningly disgusting… and then as things always do… it got -worse-

‘I still stand, and bitterness and sorrow have not overtaken me yet.’

Mister Bleeding Heart said over the shoulder of his wilting little lady friend who still held her crutch close by. I gave up on poetry at that point.

‘Hells I left Waterdeep to come to a city full of bleeding hearts and swine…’

‘I am a bleeding heart. It is what I bleed for that matters.’

I suddenly realized this was the simpering one who tried to hug me the day before.

‘Not going to try to hug me again today are you?’

My hand moved to my blade.

‘Not if you do not want.’

AND it got even worse… the others started hugging and carrying on. Well I went past the threshold of tolerable disgust. Quickly.

‘I might let you hug me when Cania catches fire, or that bleeding heart of yours stops beating… but that would be a bit difficult for hugging.’

I flashed him a malicious grin.

‘If you wish to stop it from beating just ask, you can make it so. Do you wish it?’

Bleeding heart, hells-be-damned, wanting to be a martyr… Do I -look- like an idiot?

‘Tempting… but if you think I am daft enough to strike you for being an idiot… In front of all these nice guardsmen…’

I shook my head and looked to Heartless.

‘Are they always like this?’

‘Ususually.’

He grinned and I rolled my eyes.

‘Mist and Shadow… Should have stayed in Waterdeep. Nothing like trading one Hell for another hmm?’

‘Seems there are more than nine to choose from.’

‘More than nine, Gods above! This -must- be twelve through fifteen!’

He laughed, I smiled. The dribble from the Bleeding Hearts Club continued, Heartless and I continued to trade wry jabs. Eventually we got fed up with the conversation and I offered to by him a drink to save both our sanities. He agreed. It was … pleasant mostly until the Cale copy showed up. Here I was enjoying myself and he had to show up and ruin it.

‘Hello deary.’

He actually waved at me. I shot him a scathing glance. We had just been talking about how the Blade and Stars stayed mostly moron free…

‘So much for Moron free.’

Cale-copy continued to be irritating and I glared as my hand dropped to the hilt of my blade. Even as I spoke he noticed the gesture, the veiled threat… and took it as a bloody challenge. Bastard.

‘Do you actually want something, or is this going to end with missing fingers?’

‘I love it when you give me that look.’

I wanted to scream… slit his throat… any number of things… but I knew better than to go picking fights now… Last thing I need is to get myself on the wrong side of the law. Besides, the idiot would like it too much if I tried to kill him.

‘Go find some harlot to chase.’

‘I thought I was.’

His laugh was cut short as my blade was out and at his throat in a half a blink. How the wine glass I was drinking from didn’t shatter when I slammed it down is a mystery. Heartless seemed amused by the whole damned exchange.

‘I suggest you go away. Now.’

‘I love this woman.’

I pressed the blade into his throat, some small glimmer of satisfaction at the bead of blood that formed and dripped down the blade at a slow creep. Heartless however decided to play peace keeper and I let him. Easier perhaps, to let the man do my heavy lifting for now… least until I got my bearings and what not. I needed friends not enemies, and a low profile… Didn’t want Anders to get word of a girl in Baldur’s Gate with a bad attitude… especially since there were only so many places I could have run to. I needed to be careful.

After the Cale-copy left… Heartless and I resumed a pleasant chat until I had my fill of wine. We then went our separate ways. I decided to take out my frustrations on something, ventured outside of the city. At first it was a rather productive thing… until one of the blasted mutt-Gnolls nearly did me in…

Who should come to my valiant rescue but Mister Bleeding Heart. He wasn’t so much of a jerk… kept the whole distasteful thing as pleasant as possible… even showed me around a bit. Remember, I told myself, need friends… not enemies. If friends are in short supply then I can at least surround myself with useful bastards. Keep me safe from Anders and his goons at least. After an extensive evening of stress relief… Bleeding Heart told me thank you … I scoffed him off and headed back to the city. Intent on finishing the other half the bottle of wine, and sleeping.
~~

[ENTRY EIGHT]

So we sat around, bored and contemplating the misery of the world… or how to inflict misery at least. I couldn’t help but marvel at the lack of normality that grips the place. Blue-skinned folk, people with fire for hair, flowers growing from their heads, horns, probably tails too but I don’t dare bloody look. Orcs run around like they own the damned place too… the Elves? Well, I am glad enough to be human. Seems to be a bloody shortage of humans… maybe because the ones I have seen are blithering idiots, bleeding heart idealists, or some other bit of nonsense to survive long. Maybe they are getting bred out by all the damnable half Elves and half Orcs and what ever the hells the rest of this motley lot is made up of.

‘Scarlett, lass?’

We watched some fellow with glowing hair walk past. Eyes wide and mouths agape.

‘I think we are the only sane people around this gods forsaken place. Not to mention normal…’

‘Tha' feller 'ad glowin' 'air. And aye, ye be righ'.’

‘I met a -nice- tiefling too. Figure that one out.’

‘Stop pullin' me leg, lass. There be no such thin'.’

‘Would I lie to you? well I would… but not about this. It is too horribly scarring to lie about. Sitting at the fire with that bleeding heart who wants to hug me.’

‘Bah!’

He grumbled on about that for a bit, much to my amusement.

‘Where ye be headin', eh?’

‘Either for some wine or some practice because I will cut the next bastard that hits on me I swear.’

‘Ye be beautiful, lass.’

He gave me a deadpan look before spitting at my feet. If it weren’t Grim… I might have actually sliced him one… but Grim is tolerable for a smelly little runt of a dwarf. Besides. He is the only bastard I can stand in this damned place.

‘Charming…’

I rolled my eyes and grinned.

‘Who asked ye?’

‘Let’s get out of here Grim. The nice and the weirdness might be contagious. It is like some sort of bloody disease I swear it. Have you seen any humans who aren’t total saps?’

‘Eh, can nay say tha' I 'ave. Besides ye. Ye be tolerable.’

‘Tolerable? I must be doing something wrong then.’

‘If ye be lookin' fer a hug, look elsewhere.’

'You ever try to hug me, Grim, and I will gut you.’

‘Do nay be worryin'.’

With that we decided it best to get the hells away from town. Spent a good portion of the day running about looking for trouble. My favorite past time next to hating idiots and writing poems. It was a great day, save for the fact that I died a couple of times. Need to get another idiot to put between me and the things that want to kick my ass. Grim is good for it… but face it, he just doesn’t cover enough area in the blocking department. Damned smelly runt. It was great until we ran out of things to bash.

So we wandered back to the merchant camp near the city. We were going to leave, but the minstrel was singing a song about ‘Little Red Ridding Hood’ and Grim had to smart off about it being me. I just prayed it didn’t have a happy ending. And the song continued.

‘Maybe she gets gutted by a damned pixie… that sounds familiar enough.’

Can’t believe I got out-bladed by a bloody bug with dust. Bloody Fairies. Hells take them. Grim and I would go back and settle that score later. For now we listened to the song, wondering who would die. Grim smarted off and I slugged his arm unenthusiastically. And of course the Dwarf kept needling. I had taken to cleaning my nails with my dagger. I hate getting blood under my nails.

‘Its going to have a happy ending isn't it…?’

‘This lass be none ter brigh'. Definitely ye, Scarlett.’

My dagger went to Grim’s throat. Cocky little runt just tapped his axe and shook his head at me. I narrowed my eyes at him weighting my options. On one hand, Grim would be dead. On the other? I would be stuck with the rest of them by myself. So I lowered my dagger, and went back to cleaning my nails as the song ended. I nodded appreciatively to the minstrel.

‘Could have used more… death and mayhem, but not bad.’

‘S'it's murder an' mayhem ye like in yer songs lass?’

Drawled the newcomer. He had gotten the tail end of the song and my remarks. I smiled at him.

‘Better in real life but sometimes a girl has to settle.’

‘Well, one good song d'serves another, aye?’

I sharpened my blade as he began his song. It was utterly beautiful. Brilliant bit of darkness. I think I smiled for the first time since coming to this hells hole. Dismal little tune about a murderer named Jack. I could almost see the blood flow with the music. It gave me a chill. Hope he knows more songs like that. Might ask him my next bad day. He finished the song with a flourish.

‘Yer murder an' mayhem, lass…’

He offered a bow to the crowd, and I offered a malicious smile and a genuinely thankful nod.

‘Now -that- made my day.’

A few more blood-drenched tunes from the minstrels and I headed on my way.

‘Well gents. you have made my miserably cheerful day a bit brighter or… darker as the case may be.’

‘ ‘At's what I'm 'ere for, lass, t'spread chaos, hate, an' general discontent, aye?’

He offered a mock bow, to which I grinned at. Good sort that one. Farewells passed and I went to the nearest dive for a drink and a pillow to rest on.
~~



Only fools believe their own lies... Though sometimes it is beneficial to appear the fool...

[ENTRY NINE]

‘Anyone seen a dwarf who hates everyone and stinks like he hasn't bathed in a month? Well make that two months. Anyone?'

I stood near the merchant camp and tapped my foot impatiently. They told me he headed South. Great, so now I would need to track the little runt down.

‘Hells I told him no fights without me… Oh well… I can beat him up for that too. Thanks I guess.’

I started to leave when Mister Bleeding Heart walked up to me. He stood there a minute as I studied him. Coward, looked away as soon as we locked eyes. Already it was going to be a good day. I could just tell.

‘I still don’t want a damned hug.’

‘You don’t have to take one. I would just like to get to know you better is all. Hate me for that if you wish.’

Yeah right. -Everyone- wanted to get to know me better. Idiots. Want to save me too? Or use me like Anders? Treat me like Cale? An imp has a better chance in Cania. Not happening. They can all pike off and stay the hells back. Grim? He is safe. He will either keep his distance because he hates me too, or he will back stab me later and I can gut him. The rest of them? Ha! This one? What the hells was he on about: ‘Hate me if you wish…’ Like I was asking bloody permission?

‘My mother was a harlot my father was a bastard, nothing else to know Bleeding Heart.’

Sodding idiot. Now he knew as much as anyone else. Still stood there looking all hurt and heart broke. It was too good not to twist the dagger a bit… The figurative one. Gods know I didn’t dare put a literal one into that heart of his. Not in front of the blinking guards. Besides… bloody finger wiggler, I wasn’t about to get in a fight I couldn’t win with steel. No this would be a tongue and cheek battle only.

‘My life was not so different…’

Different enough it turned you into a soggy pile of mush. I rolled my eyes and tried not to gag.

‘Wonderful.’

‘What have I done to make you dislike me so?’

Breathing. Standing there? Both good options. Time to set the record straight.

‘Look, I didn't leave Waterdeep to make friends. I don't want friends. I want to find the damned Dwarf and get a drink before the day gets worse. If it makes your bleeding heart idealism feel better… I hate everyone. All the time. So Stop trying to be my friend and get out of my face before I use you for target practice.’

‘You already have.’

With that he turned tail and went to cry in the corner. Fine by me. Luck would have it, Grim showed up. Had an elf with him too. Cici. She has a funny accent and of course, she -is- an elf… but she is good at killing things, hates just about everything, and is a smart little viper. I can stand to be around her at least. She works well with Grim and I at bashing too. Best part is? She doesn’t ask too many questions. She calls Grim Stunty, which I think I like better than Snuffles.

I have noticed something. As rough and tumble as the Coast is… and it sure isn’t Waterdeep… people sure are soft and blood squeamish. It is terribly sad… disgusting and a bit disappointing. You would think there would be more than a handful of edgy sorts about. Maybe the panty-waisted little fops and idealists outnumbered em so bad, they ran or are hiding. Sure like to know where they hide at.

So the three of us went looking for trouble, and made a good go of it. It had been a grand fine day. The three of us traded barbs at a pleasing pace, got our blades bloody, learned a few new tricks along the way. An almost perfect day. Almost… Until the Orcs got the upper hand. Of course, they cheated… outnumbered us by at least eight or so. There went the good day. All downhill from there and found ourselves rolling in the shit the whole way down.

So Cici and I got dragged to a temple in Candlekeep. Some Elf got us back on our feet. Not sure what to make of that one… but for now he seems fairly straight up. For an Elf. So we went to find Grim, only to find some rat had found him first. Armored prick. Might have been a bigger ass than Anders… is that even possible? Wanted to -sell- Grim’s body back to us. What the hells kind of idiot does he take me for? Well it was a pretty extensive argument. I say argument because I was in no shape to fight. A good scrap maybe… but all I wanted at that point was to get Grim on his feet, head to the nearest dive and drown in the wine. Figures things never go as planned. To hells with that sod. We -finally- got Grim upright again though…


‘Now ta see tha Dwarf's gratitude on his face!’

‘I’ll show you gratitude.’

I wanted to flay his skin. Slowly. More than once. And -then- tear him into tiny pieces. And say thank you the whole bloody time. He looked at Grim as he came to.

‘Behold. Yer savior.’

‘Savior?’

‘Say, 'ow about a reward, Dwarf? Fer draggin' ye back 'ere.’

‘Reward? Fer bringin' back ter this land o' crybabies an' bleedin' heart Orc and Tiefer lovers? Bugger off, manlin'.’

It got a bit more wordy after that… threats were of course made on all sides… and the three of us left. Rights with the law and all that rot. I end up in too much trouble and Anders will be on my heels for sure… on more than that if the pig has his way. You wait. I will get good enough with a blade… I will show Anders exactly what I did to Cale… twice.

So we headed south to get supplies and drink. Beregost may not be much of a town… but it has three taverns and only one temple, so it can’t be all bad right? First we got supplies. Ran into some sod who thinks he is a gods given lady’s man… I know his type. Flat out trouble.

‘Well met.’

I glared. Vehemently. I actually hoped the idiot would try something. I was already considering a bar fight for the hells of it. And this one… had the gall to eye me up and down. Then again all the bloody guards about. Had to keep myself out of trouble. Damn you to the Hells Anders.

‘A look like that should not be on such a beautiful face.’

‘Get it out of your head now.’

I glanced at Grim and Cici, she grinned mischievously at me. Grim smarted off.

‘Manlin's always have such shite fer brains?’

Pretty much. The Gods’ Gift grinned at his silent counterpart.

‘Did I offend you?’

‘You spoke didn't you?’

Nothing more to say, I walked off, Cici and Grim were close by. We went to the Burning Wizard. I like the name of the place. I like the thought of burning wizards too, and they don’t even have to be wizards to make me happy. Grim went and quote: …slide under a damn keg and fill up. I got Cici and I the most expensive bottles of red wine they had and sat down. We passed some nice conversation, she and I. We could almost be friends. Gods’ Gift showed up and spoiled it…

‘Wait! I know you.’

‘Well if you know me then you know to leave me the hells alone.’

‘No no I do… from somewhere…’

I scoffed and he had the audacity to keep speaking. I hate people.

‘I mean besides racing around in my dreams, you were at Candlekeep yesterday, no?’

‘If I am in your dreams… I hope I kill you in your sleep.’

That continued. For too long. I had said no fights until I finished at least one bottle of wine… and it was all we could do not to kill before the wine was done. Of course by the time I finished enjoying the wine… the Gods’ Gift had chickened out… he and his silent friend left, only after thoroughly irritating me. That and the tavern had gotten too full. Staying out of trouble is harder than it looks… especially when surrounded by Sodding idiots. So Cici and I chatted a while longer.

Bored again and looking to spread some more verbal abuse… we headed north, back to the city. There was a small, but mildly amusing crowd at the Merchant camp. Of note: Met an elf that knows how to trade a few barbs, and some others who are too damned nosy for their own good. Why do people insist on asking questions? I give up. The whole of the realms is doomed to stupidity… If I survive I might be one of the few… and it will be my luck there won’t be a decent one among the lot of them. Hells take them all.

Cici and I sat down. We each had a bottle of wine because I was smart enough to plan ahead, and I was tapping my knee -trying- to work on some writing. Hard to do, but I like a challenge.

‘So what are your names?’

One of them asked. I wasn’t paying attention…

‘Depends on what mood I am in.’

‘Well what is it now?’

‘Nosy sod aren't you?’

‘Hmm don’t you like to tell people?’

‘I don't like people.’

‘That's alright. People probably don't like you, either. So it's all fair.’

Said the other. He had been a right smart-arsed elf, and so far… he wasn’t so bad.

‘Good. If I wanted to be liked I would be nice.’

‘I'm not normal people though. I like you.’

Joy of Joys… he -liked- me. Be still my poor heart! Okay so now he was pushing it.

‘Pike off.’

‘Oh my… If I wasn't already attached, I'd kidnap you.’

He actually grinned. Arse.

‘Cici dear… please tell the daft Elves what happens when people get touchy?’

The conversation moved on. Sort of.

‘She would stab you first.’

‘Stab me? Ahh. Right to the courtship rituals then? You move quickly indeed.’

Oh dear Gods… what the hells is wrong with people around here?! I smirked at Cici as names and professions, titles and what not were all passed around.

‘Look Cici, it must be show and tell. I should have brought the dwarf.’

The cocky one tossed a pebble at my boot.

‘Indeed it is. What are you going to show or tell?’

I glowered. Cici smirked and answered with her thick accent.

‘Nozzink, zee Stout eesn't here.’

‘I could show you how I would like to kill randomly irritating people… or tell you what happened to the last egotistical jerk that thought I was a means of amusement? But then again I am busy so you should probably find a corner and amuse yourself.’

I went back to my writing. He looked on, smiling faintly. I wanted to kill people. I didn’t even care who. Just enough that they would all back off.

‘Damn, you like to bite yourself, don't you? Interesting. Do you drink venom for breakfast, or is it naturally produced?’

My withering glare drew another smile to his face, which I hated him for. Instead of the conversation I concentrated on letting the red ink fall from my enchanted quill… another useful trinket from Anders. The ink looked like blood on the bleached parchment. If only it was blood, the blood of irritating…stupid Elves… and what ever else irritates me… Which is pretty much anything that breathes… I hate people.

So on went the night until I gave up on any useful writing and longed for a bottle of wine and a pillow. Sleep is a beautiful escape. If only a temporary and fleeting one in the face of so many Sodding fools!
~~

[ENTRY TEN]

I sat at the fire. It was a quiet day, thoughtful. No overly irritating sorts. Not even a lot to do. I worked on a few poems, scribbled here. That hooded sort, aside from being obnoxious… might be trouble. Going to have to be more careful. I need to get my bearings. I need to prepare. Just in case. Why the shift in thought? Because I was reminded that the world we live in is full of devious bastards, and some of them have enough coins to hire other devious bastards, and if I am not ready… well I might see the Nine Hells sooner than I would like.

‘Whut's yer name?’

I glared at the hooded figure. Didn’t like the way he was looking at me. He kept his voice low.

‘What does it bloody matter?’

I instinctively shifted. Just in case. I adjusted my grip on the dagger, and readied to reach for the long-blade if I needed to, if all else failed… I’d run.

‘It does. Thar be power in knowin' a name.’

Power. It is always about power. Names are like deeds of ownership. You hold your name, and no man can lay claim. No one.

‘And what in the Nines makes you think you are worth it?’

He spoke with all the grace of a lame horse, and he almost smelled worse than the damned dwarf. I had already decided I didn't like him… already knew no one could be trusted. Damn them all. Bastards every single one of them. Everyone either wants to be friends. In truth all there are in people are the users and the used. I'll be damned to the Nines nine over before I go back to being someone's pretty little plaything again. In -any- manner. Scarlett Willow owns Maeve Clancy. Period.

‘I did not ask ta be deemed worthy. But 'twould be bloody handy ta know yer name… Should sumone e'er want ta 'ave ye gutted.’

He chuckled softly. Pleased with his own joke.

‘How precious.’

‘Indeed.’

He stopped laughing sharply. My eyes narrowed. I tensed. Survival instinct pushing my body to ‘fight or flight’ mode. Still, he wasn’t trouble yet. Yet. So I casually laid my quill down and I watched him a moment. Most days it would be amusing if someone wanted me gutted. Makes things interesting.

‘Besides most who want people gutted won't bother with names.’

I shrugged it off.

‘Oh? …An' 'ow would they know who ta kill? They looking for a crimson hood?’

The question then became, 'who is looking?' Now I was really irritated. Who the hells was this arse and what in the nines did he REALLY want?

‘The only ones who care, already know who I am … and don't have a clue what to look for.’

Yet.

This one. He could be trouble. He could be working for Anders. After all, it isn’t hard to get to Baldur’s Gate from Waterdeep. Or he could just be another nosy son of a harlot… but I couldn’t afford the chance. I’ll make some coin. Get geared up right proper… and I suppose that making a few useful acquaintances isn’t a bad idea either.

At least Anders will be looking for a quiet, timid, mouse of a girl… He always did like Cat and Mouse. So did Cale. Bastards. I really should have killed Anders too. Had his damned guards not been coming I would have finished it. Shouldn’t have taken the time to enjoy it, should have just killed him quick. No matter. Maybe I will have a second chance to do it right. No way in the Nines I am going back under that rat’s dirty thumb. He’ll rot in the Nines well before I do. I’ll see to that one way or another.
~~

[ENTRY ELEVEN]

Well I am at a loss. If beauty is only skin deep, and I have done my damnedest to prove that fact twice over… Then why the hells do they still give a damn? Damned Do-good Idealists. The only thing I need saving from is the lot of them … and those damned Orcs. I hate Orcs… Grim. Damned racial idiot. Rushes ahead. Orcs. Who the hells taught the damned Orcs to cast -spells-? We’ll get the bastards yet. Orcs. Ha. Yeah. Well… Grim just needs to slow down. I learned a few new tricks… We’ll see.

Anyway… got distracted by killing… again. Right beauty is skin deep and the world is full of idiots. Pig-headed idiot men that see the pretty face and think its worth their time… and that they have a bloody damned chance. I will let Grim gut me. But anyway, speaking of Grim. We went shopping… Which is to say he picks something out and I sweet talk the merchant out of a few more coins… If I didn’t hated him more… and he didn’t keep my arse alive, I’d kill him. Lucky damned dwarf.

Stupid shopkeeper knocked over some bottle of stuff that shrank Grim and I both. The start of an absolutely brilliant day.

‘Wha' in tha bleedin' Hells be this?!’

‘Something that blasted shop keep did! That or there is a mage sneaking about…’

‘Uh, ya ooops musta knocked over a … ah ya…’

The merchant stuttered.

‘Now I really have to smell your damned stench dwarf… Gods.’

I glared at the shopkeeper… from all the way down… I swear we were the size of half-pint damned gnomes.

‘How long is the bloody thing supposed to last?’

The merchant shrugged. I glared and grumbled about being stuck smelling Grim.

‘Shut yer trap abou' me smell, woman, and use yer gifts o' persuasion to git us out o' this!’

‘Get us out of this?! Hells it was your bloody idea to show up here!’

I glared at Grim now, instead of the damned merchant. Who I must say… even with his considerable advantage of height… had the good sense to know I was pissed and act like it mattered. Grim and I went back and forth like a couple of damned mice.

‘I should wear shortly …. I think…’

Shortly. HA. Not funny. If I were tall enough I would have killed him for fun.

‘Ye was talkin' ter him when this happened! Hrast!’

‘I didn't say a damned word. I was just looking over his damned stock.’

Right. Time to make nice. Ugh, Grim was buying me more than one bottle of wine for this damned mess. So I smiled up at the merchant.

‘Sir. If you can set this little oops right, we would be appreciative and out of your hair in no time at all.’

Little oops?! What the hells was I, three inches tall? Incompetent arse. Damn Grim. It was his bloody idea. I could have been halfway through a bottle of wine by now.

‘Hrm … well let me see… I can sell ya this to coun--’

I continued to smile at the now bumbling shopkeeper. Men were so predictable. Flash em a pretty smile, and the blood drains from their damned brains… ugh. Grim continued to grumble and curse in Dwarven. It was terribly amusing since he sounded like a chipmunk with his… well hehe. With his nuts in a twist. Serves him bloody right.

‘I can sell ya this to counter the mishap.’

‘Sell!?’

He threw his hands up in the air and started his swearing and carrying on. I shot him a look to wither a hag, and he clamped his hand over his mouth. I then turned back to the merchant… still whining about his bottom line.

‘Well I paid good money for these. If I just give these to ya then I have lost three items.’

‘Well if you hadn't knocked ov--’

I stopped the tirade and the merchant smiled at me with a bit of a blush.

‘If you hadn't been so pretty…’

Right. Always that. Idiot. Men are idiots. Fortunately, they were also stupid, predictable and easily manipulated. I turned on a winning smile. Strike a pose… bat your eyelashes… and wait. They either lay the world at your feet or you have to kill them… either way? I win.

‘Accidents happen. I assure you if we were proper size and could make some more coin it wouldn't be trouble to spend most of it here… hmm? Besides… Don't you think I am prettier at eye level?’

He nodded like a dim-witted fool and handed us the potions to fix the mishap. Think Grim drank that faster than his ale… scary thought.

‘There we go.’

I flashed him one last winning smile, which sent him into a blushing fit. I was pretty sure the discount would be good in the future… Bastard ever tries to touch me and he will be buying regeneration services from the closest temple. We left quickly. Grim was grumbling like a good dwarf. As soon as the door was closed behind us…

‘Hells! The gods take this infernal city!’

‘Yeah well we are stuck here so we better make the best of it. I even said please. Hope you understand the bloody significance of that fact.’

‘Aye, I hope ye did no hurt yerself, lass. Woul' have bloody well killed me.’

‘It was so excruciating you owe me two drinks… maybe three.’

‘Damn it. I be no made out o' gold, girl.’

‘That's a damn shame seeing as gold smells nicer.’

‘I'll just git ye a bottle o' wine an' ye can drink yer black heart inter a bloody stupor.’

I grinned at that. He was an alright sort. For a damned dwarf. We made our way out of town. Got mopped by the Orcs, went and took out the subsequent frustration on the goblins. Was a pretty good afternoon really. Plenty of blood and guts… and not much of it was mine. Met up with Cici and we headed to the Burning Wizard for drinks.

There was a bard there that Cici almost killed for his lute. One day I will have to ask her why she hates lute’s so much. Maybe even get one to annoy her with. Well this bard, way too curious… REALLY annoying… Oh don’t worry… this story has a happy ending… No not the 'they lived happily ever after' kind either. Unless you count -me- living happily ever after while he gets his arse kicked. It was great. But anyway… yeah. So he was being annoying. Sorry, I like to skip ahead to the bloody ending, especially when it is a -bloody- ending.

Took a break from annoying to kill an orc, broke a couple of chairs at the burning wizard… and a glass. The Cale-Copy was there. I hate him. I really -hate- him. Almost as much as I hate Cale… Almost. Here we were enjoying our drinks and taking turns hating various aspects of the rot of a day.

‘Bad day Scarly?’

‘You had better be talking to your pet cat.’

Scarly? Bastard. Who the hells was he to give me some damned pet name?

‘Do I look like a mage?’

No you looked like a bloody fool. Unfortunately a living, breathing one.

‘Look like a damned arse to me. Rot for brains sort.’

‘Oh I am so hurt.’

His voice dripped with sarcasm. Not nearly as hurt as I wanted you to be.

‘Well I try to be kinder to the ones with trouble pronouncing simple names like -Scarlett-. Consider it my good deed for the day.’

‘Good deed? You wouldn’t know a good deed if it walked up and bit you.’

Well I went back to ignoring him, the bard went back to singing. About halfway into the second bottle of wine I started working on a new song. One just for the Cale-Copy. All about how I’d like to see him die… It was a pleasant day dream, though it didn’t make for a good song or poem yet… I would work on that. It was ruined entirely by the fact that he was chuckling. At me.

‘What the hells is so damned funny?’

‘How easily you let your guard down…an amateur move Scarlett.’

Bastard. My guard wasn’t down. Did I mention I hated him? Yeah.

‘Why don’t you learn to keep that anger in check before you get killed.’

‘I have been. You -are- still breathing aren’t you?’

‘Let’s hope so though I truly wonder if you have such a thing as self control.’

‘You want to preach? temple is that way.’

What the hells did he know anyway. Like he has -any- right to judge. Sodding pile of rot.

‘You are one emotional little wench.’

‘Pike off.’

‘See?’

‘I am hardly emotional. I have two modes… pleasant and murderous… that is not emotional.’

‘You’re right, its insanity. Just be careful Scarlett, if you don’t learn to keep that temper under control you will get shot up and killed.’

‘My temper is under control.’

‘Your not in any control if you keep speaking out loud your murderous intents.’

‘If I intended to murder anyone… it wouldn't be spoken out loud.’

‘Let’s hope so…’

I wondered if he noticed I had never said aloud that I wanted to kill him? Idiot. Stupid, Sodding, idiot, pile of rot, man…

‘Careful though, of what you go after Scarlett, lest you open up a hornets nest.’

‘If I didn't know any better I would either call that an odd form of flirting or an invitation.’

Please let it be a challenge… an invitation… oh I would feed him his own heart. Bastard.

‘Flirting with you would be to much work Scarlett.’

‘Good. Don't trouble yourself then.’

‘I won’t try because you are not worth my time.’

‘She's not worth the lost fingers.’

Cici interjected and I grinned. I liked her. She was alright for an elf. Least I knew she wouldn’t stab me in the damned back.

‘Best news I have heard all day.’

The wine gone… and my mood soured. I paid for the broken chairs, and the broken glass… tipped the barmaid. Cici had gone to sleep off her wine… and Grim had passed out beneath a keg. I wandered for a while before making my way back to the city for some sleep. I really hate it here… but it beats the hells out of Waterdeep.
~~

[ENTRY TWELVE]

Okay… so the bard. Yes he died. No he didn’t say dead. There are no happy endings. So he had been irritating the hells out of me with his damned needling and questions. He had even taken to calling me Sparrow. Says I am flighty. Idiot. I want to choke him every time he calls me Sparrow.

I didn’t get the chance though because some other idiot beat me to it. Well, he didn’t choke him exactly. He tried to gag him to keep him quiet. It came to blows and the bard got beat to death’s door. Whatever god he prays to, either hates him enough to send him back, or hates us enough to send him back.

He wandered off south later… and I had the misfortune to run into him later… Note: Watch the wine. He can be trouble, and I don’t trust his damned questions. He becomes a problem, or he ends up working for Anders? I’ll kill him and make sure his god can’t send him back…

Cale-Copy made an appearance… but was largely ignored and left before he pissed me off. Cici and Grim went with me today, and today we handed those Orcs back what they had given us the last couple of days. That felt pretty good. Lots of good bashing today.

Grim was in a pretty good mood. He even bathed… smelled more like a stinking dwarf and less like Orc dung. He’s a bastard of a dwarf, and Cici is a wench of an elf but… I think I can almost call them useful friends. Good to have around at least.

Friends though… dangerous things. Hard to say if they are more or less dangerous than enemies. At least with an enemy you know what to expect. Friends? Friends are tricky, risky. Hells acquaintances are risky enough. Never do really know who is looking out for who or why. Leira knows… there is no real truth.

The whole damned world is cloaked in mist and shadow. What you see is never what it appears to be. Ever. Even me. They think they know me? They don’t know -anything-. Sure, I tell the truth once or twice… The Lady of the Mist can respect that… sometimes the truth is more misleading than the best lies… Friends are dangerous. Enemies are dangerous… the truth is flat out deadly. It is a kind of dance really.

So the day passed in a succession of orc-killing sprees. Grim goes nuts about those damned Orcs. Makes for good sport. Even if it has gotten us in a pinch once or twice. But eventually he decided he needed a better axe… so we headed south. Now… mind you Cale-Copy had showed up once or twice during the day… just out of the corner of my eye… irritating. So when we came across him… it was late. Moon was up. And here he was on the road in front of me. Bastard.

‘Why do you keep showing up where I am?’

‘Because you are following me.’

‘Why follow you? It would be like following a leper.’

‘I don't know why are you following me?’

‘I’m not we just seem to end up in the same place a lot.’

‘Uh huh, and I am an angel too.’

‘Then I’m a pit fiend.’

‘I could believe that, you are a man after all.’

‘I’d believe you are more of a succubus than an angel. Just talking to you is draining my life force.’

‘I'd drain it faster, but I doubt you would play nice or fair… back to the whole ’you are a man’ thing again.’

‘I’m guessing some guy really made you mad at one point in your life.’

‘Oh! He might have half a brain yet!’

Grim spoke up finally.

‘Jus' one?’

‘Shut it Dwarf.’

He and I exchanged a grin that I was all too used to by now.

‘You know, I think I have a theory about why you act like such a wench.’

‘Oh now he thinks I -care- about what he thinks… I think he may have just stepped beyond his mental capacity there.’

‘You really need to find an hobby.’

‘I have one.’

‘Which whoring or drinking?’

‘I am not a harlot. And my taste for wine isn’t as dangerous as my taste for blood…’

I glared at him, hand on the hilt of my blades. I wanted him dead… I am also not an idiot. Even if it were Grim and I against the Cale-Copy, I was exhausted and still had a few cuts and scrapes from our scraps with the damned Orc. I wasn’t going to risk losing a fight to this bastard. I wanted him dead in every most painful way possible. More than once.

Nobody will ever bloody touch me again. Not Cale, not Anders… and I damn sure am not going to be some money maker for Anders ever again. That life went up in smoke in Waterdeep. Maeve is dead. Maeve was a harlot… Scarlett isn’t. Never will be. I don’t belong to bloody anybody. Damn this one to the hells if he thinks I will be. Cale-Copy… I will kill him. I will wait patiently. Mist and Shadow… I’ll watch him bleed… slow… and laugh. He can rot in the hells.

‘Now your a vampire. Just my luck.’

Grim looked at me, and I decided now was not the time, so we headed north. With the Cale-Copy in front of me where I could bloody well watch him. Then he went to the Feldepost and Grim and I wandered around for a bit. Took care of some errands, made some coin…spent some coin, and wandered off to Candlekeep to see if they had some interesting stuff there. That mage there has some nice stuff… a drum I wouldn’t mind buying some day.

There were some elves there, and a few others. We stayed to chat for a while. Not a bad lot. They can catch and throw insults fair enough. Especially the one… think they said he was a Councilor or some rot like that. Bloody damned smart arse is what he is. He and Grim get along right enough. All in all, we passed some pleasant conversation.

There was a Tiefer there… Now this is some confusing yarn. If it was an illusion… the Mistshadow would be proud. He was -decent-. To further add to my confusion… he was polite. To me. You heard me. A man… horns or not… was POLITE to ME. Even more amazing? He didn’t ask for anything. Was just stand up nice. Had me thinking that maybe Grim had left me for dead in the Orc caves… that maybe we hadn’t really shown up the Orc mystics. I waited and waited and waited… but he never asked for a damned thing. Go figure that rot out!

Gods-Gift flirt showed up… that lead to a rather interesting conversation. Grim had gone to sleep off the day, I had meant to get some rest myself… but I had a scrap of poetry in my head… couldn’t make much of it though… That and he decided to interrupt my train of thought. Why are men so presumptuous? He sat down. Right next to me… and had the nerve to lean in even closer. There was still a sizable crowd about, and I was too tired to walk back to the Gate so… best not to overstay my welcome… or give them cause to pull back the welcome altogether. So I fought the urge to knife him until he got the point… and backed off. Unfortunately we weren't there yet. He whispered in my ear… I wanted to shove a dagger in his neck.

‘What are you up to today?’

‘Go -away-, now.’

I didn’t look up from my writing… but was annoyed that he actually -tried to read- it. So I turned away from his view and sat there. I wasn’t moving. I wasn’t going to be pushed away. Wouldn’t let him have that satisfaction. Idiot didn’t move. In fact he kept on and on, needled back and forth. He was toying with my temper, trying to push buttons. A game I am used to. A form of flirtation. Cale always enjoyed it. I knew how to play… and wasn’t going to get played. But it kept going on until my choice was to stab him and cause problems for myself… or walk away. Have to stay out of trouble to stay out of Anders’ line of sight. So I got up and left.

I was sitting, mulling my thoughts, most of them involved people I hated meeting unkind ends. It was nice. And then I heard a whisper in my ear that ruined it all. I drew my blades and regarded the direction the voice came from. Damn. A sneak like Cale. I found myself falling into another game of cat and mouse… but this cat was different. Not once did he try to cut me… or touch me in any way for that matter.

‘So what are you really afraid of?’

‘What the hells do you care?’

‘Because I have a big heart, and you look like someone that could use a friend.’

Gods’ blood! Not another one…

‘I don't need friends.’

‘Fine. An ally then. Someone to hold your enemies down while you run them through.’

I eyed the direction of the voice distrustfully. I knew the type. I wasn’t about to go back to a similar life that I had left in the gutters of Waterdeep. He was clever. He knew better than to stand still and give my blade a chance to find him. He bent the shadows to him. For now, my only choice was to allow the conversation to continue. I was alone… and in a bit of a spot. So I would not give him a reason to do anything that would turn out badly… at the same time, I had to keep my own wits about me. I had to be careful. I knew from experience just how much trouble I was really in. I didn’t like it one damned bit.

‘I am not trading a place under one man's thumb for a position under another's. It happened once, I won't risk it again.’

A chuckle rippled from the shadows.

‘I find it hard to believe that you were ever under anyone's thumb. I certainly don't want you under mine.’

‘Then what do you want… because there is always a catch.’

‘All I want for now is your name.’

For now. Bet he thought I missed that. Idiot. They all want something. Especially the -nice- ones.

‘Why?’

‘It is how friendships start. At least one of the ways. What do you have to lose? They way you carry yourself, I am not threat to you.’

‘Always more than I am willing to give up. You don't even know… all you see is another pretty face. Always the same.’

‘Your name, at least give me that. I will not lie to you. I do think you are beautiful.’

‘An easy truth is to meant to garner trust hmm? Do you really think I am an idiot?’

‘I see lots of beautiful faces. Lots of women that want to, well, would be interested in my attentions. And no. You are no idiot.’

Egotistical bastard.

‘As I said, you intrigue me. Few do that for me. Besides. You could use a friend. Simple enough. Perhaps I can be one.’

‘If I had a copper for every time I heard that one, I could have bought my way out of trouble instead of cutting my way through it.’

He may think to win me over with pretty words. I am not so stupid. However, it was blatantly obvious he wasn’t going to give up. So… maybe he could be useful. Don’t cave too easy… let him think he has it won. And be very careful. Men are so easy to twist. Now it was time to dance… and this time, I was going to lead. Not Cale… Not Anders… Not this one.

‘So let me show you my friendship. What do you have to lose? If I am truthful, you get a friend and you win. If I lie, you get to gut me, and we both know you will enjoy that, and you win again.’

He had a point. The conversation continued. I played my part. Wounded damsel. And he danced right along like a good little idiot. Said it before… men are so predictable.

‘Gods I hate people. Always too many bloody questions all the damned time.’

‘Well, I don't see too many people liking you, so you're probably right with the world.’

‘That is the point if they don't like me they stay away. If they stay away they aren't a threat.’

‘So, who threatens your freedom?’

P R E D I C T A B L E

‘Like I am dumb enough to tell that to a total stranger who may or may not be willing to sell me out.’

‘So, you are a wanted woman. For more than your face.’

Yeah. Anders wanted his stuff, gold and his little harlot back… probably wanted me dead and in pieces for what I did to Cale. Like I cared. It wasn't happening.

‘More than my face indeed. Oh yes, selfish bastards, but again that hardly matters.’

Our chat was interrupted by another Ogre, but instead of rushing to my rescue, he let me do what I needed to do. I of course played my part. Even let the beast land a hit. I smiled as the Ogre fell, it too had played a part… and the pieces fell into place.

‘Not bad. You're definitely going to need friends.’

Or just useful tools to stand between me and Anders… if it came to that.

‘Friends are dangerous.’

‘So is being alone. Just different.’

‘Yeah and the difference is… if trouble finds me its on my head… not someone I thought I could trust.’

‘So, it’s still trouble. And trouble is going to find you. If you have friends, perhaps trouble starts with them. But if it doesn't, then you will have help, and you will be safer.’

‘Mutual benefit is hardly friendship. If people are around… and they think we are friends… They aren’t as guarded. They think it is safe. My guard stays up then fine… I keep the upper hand. Simple as that. Friendship is an illusion just like love.’

‘No break. You'll grow weary. You're guard will drop. And those that hunt you will find you. With no friends, no one will save you.’

‘I know how to be careful. I don’t need protecting.’

‘Sure. Just like you aren't afraid.’

‘Who do you pray to at night?’

‘That is a bit forward don't you think?’

‘So? If we are not friends, what do I care of manners?’

Oh… I liked it. He had some brains. Definitely useful. Besides. Like he said earlier… Either way, I win.

‘Now. What is your name? All I ask is that.’

‘Oh? And what do I have but a disembodied whisper?’

‘You have a guardian watching over you. Will you give me your name? Or at least what you want me to call you?’

‘Scarlett.’

‘Well met Scarlett.’

‘So you say.’

‘You will just have to take my word for it.’

Oh no I don’t. But we will dance. I know the game. I know the rules. I won’t be played.

‘See? It is that whole trust thing that isn't working so well.’

‘Perhaps your problems are your attitude. You're lucky I'm committed to being your friend.’

‘My attitude has kept me alive, and kept -most- people at arm's length. I'm not some charity case you know. I haven’t asked to be saved. No one is making you do anything. Least of all for me.’

‘But I want to. I WANT TO HELP YOU. I know you are no charity case, I am just generous. So take the help, and just say thank you.’

‘Thank you then.’

‘You are welcome Scarlett. Very welcome.’

‘We will see.’

‘We shall.’

He went his way, and I went mine. I was pleased. This could work out very well, and to my benefit. Or he dies. Not like it is overly complicated. A bit of useful truth. A few lies here and there… it could work out very well… Maybe Anders won’t be too much of a problem. We will see, now won’t we? Mist and Shadow. This place may be Hells, but it sure in the Nines beat Waterdeep. It was going to be interesting to say the least.
~~

[ENTRY THIRTEEN]

Haven’t seed Grim in a while. Hope the little runt didn’t get himself killed. Not to leave the impression that I care about him, because we all know I only care about Scarlett… but he is a useful obstacle between me and the stuff and people that might try to kill me. Well, he is amusing too. Not a half bad sort for an obnoxious, rude little dwarf. Better not find him dead somewhere… he -still- owes me a drink.

Lot of talk these days. Mum would be so damned proud. Little Maeve making friends and all that rot. Yeah. How’s the view in the hells mother dearest? Warm enough? Cozy? Hope so. Don’t suppose you would like it enough. Not unless they keep the damned supplied with enough self destructive tools. Sell your daughter into rot now! Try it. Seems no one expected me to get a back bone…

So what’s it matter? Anders is still out there somewhere. Cale is dead, mother dearest is dead… every two copper rat in Waterdeep that ever touched me isn’t a problem any more. The problem is people and their damned questions. I guess an angry woman that wants nothing to do with the rest of them is a temptation they just can’t resist trying to save or unravel. Idiots. I don’t need saving. Saved myself when I burnt Anders’ dive to the ground.

It is a delicate balance… truth and lie. Play nice with the other kids when there is something to gain, other than that, they can bloody well pike off. Seems attitude opens business prospects. Careful though. I know the types. Shifty eyed rats that ask for pretty things, useful things, things hard to come by. Most of them try sweet talking flattery. Like I can’t see past that. So long as they don’t want -me- and are willing to pay gold… Sure. I’ll play nice. For now.

The masked one wants information. He is probably the most dangerous. His ruse is complex, I won’t get it all sorted quickly. I know there is a lot more than what I see… skin deep as the mask he wears. He plays a flirt, but I know enough to know there is more to it than that. What I don’t know is why in the hells he bloody cares. Don’t know what he really wants. There is the chance that this whole ‘Let’s be friends’ rot is just a way to keep me off guard. He could be one of Anders’ lackeys. I will figure it out. Call it an answer to an unspoken challenge.

The sweet talking wizard… Silver-tongued bastard… he wants a spy. Only because he has something I want. I only want it because the Half-Pint bastard wants it… and promised good coin for it. Still I think I will look around a bit. I don’t care how much coin the Half-pint offers… it isn’t worth selling myself off again. Least this time it is my -choice- and not dear mother’s. Going to look around see what I can find.

The Cale-Copy wanted to make peace. Peace! Call me a harlot, -twice-, and then asked to play nice. He’s ’really sorry that he said it.’ Idiot. Just like I am really sorry the original Cale died slowly, and screaming like a damned woman. Lucky all I broke was his damned hand. He ever touches me again and I will bloody kill him. Probably have to kill him at some point anyway. He seems like a taker… and I doubt he plays fair. I really doubt this whole truce is even genuine. Least this way I can watch him a little closer. Like they say… friends close… Enemies close enough to knife in the back…

I need useful allies, like Grim… Like Cici. I like her. We could be sisters if she weren’t a damned elf. It is convenient to be able to understand a whole conversation that is little more than looks and long silences. Half the time we don’t even talk. Good taste in wine too, not blood shy. She likes to piss people off, which I find vastly amusing. She might be the closest thing I have had to a friend since Anders killed Seraphim… thanks for lending me your name gorgeous… Rest easy.

Seraphim. Not a sister in blood… but a sister by common origin. Couple years older than I was. Her mum sold her off to Anders for another fix too… She made the worst of it bearable. She’d skim toxins and gold off of Anders’ secret stash. Would make the rot Cale liked easy to forget… or at least easy enough to ignore. She stood up to them once… for me. Really stupid sis. I never asked you to die for me. Never asked anyone to. Still, you did a lot for me. I did a lot for you. Cale is dead… and Anders will be too. Made you a promise after all hmm? Probably the only thing I missed about Waterdeep. You made it out though hmm? I did too, just took different exits. I don’t blame you, I know I said I did… but you didn’t abandon me sis. You paid your penance to those bastards and got out. Gave me the means to get myself out. I’ll keep my promise. You know that.

Speaking of names… Haven’t seen the damned annoying bard that calls me Sparrow either. Maybe all his damned questions got him killed? Could I really be so lucky? Probably not. I am betting he will show back up and either try to be nice… or try to piss me off… he is good at pissing me off. How dare he give me some pet name like he owns me. Cut his damned tongue out. Sing your songs then hmm? Idiot.

Then there is the one that Rainbow calls a pessimist. I would just say he is realistic and practical. Think I could learn to like that one. He plays a good word game. I can respect that. Caught me a bit deep in the wine, nearly out-stepped me at my own wordplay. Careful Scarlet. Just because it is different faces, in a different place, doesn’t mean it isn’t full of the same scheming rot that Waterdeep was so full of. City of Splendors my arse! Skin deep. He wants a whole list of things. I might be able to snag one or two of em, make a little coin… and a useful ally. Useful allies are sort of a requirement right now.

From now on… if I haven’t gotten in a fight by the time I finish two thirds of the bottle of wine… I am breaking the bottle over some random idiot’s skull and picking a fight, whether I get out of it or not, is better than having too much to drink and nearly screwing up. Dangerous to let your guard drop… even around potential allies. No such thing as friends, just tools and those that use them. At least… despite the moments where the conversation turned dangerously personal… it had a profitable side to it. Still, I need to be careful.

‘Been here long?’

‘A little over a year.’

‘Is it always so full of abnormally happy people?’

‘I s'pose so.’

He chuckled as I offered an over dramatic sigh.

‘Lovely. Could be worse… could still be in Waterdeep I guess. Make due and all that rot.’

‘So Waterdeep is that bad?’

‘If there was anything nice about it I never saw it.’

Not that I was ever allowed to look…

‘It must have something…?’

‘You mean besides cheap harlots?’

‘Well cheap harlots have their uses.’

I scoffed, but I could see he was just trying to piss me off. So rather than throw the nearest sharp object I had at him… I took my nearly empty wine bottle in hand.

‘City is pile of damned rot. The people are rot.’

I raised my bottle in a mock toast.

‘Here is to hoping they choke on rot…’

‘So were you part of the rot… or were you the diamond gleaming through the rot?’

‘Guess that depends on who you ask.’

‘I'm asking you.’

‘-I- am nothing to anyone with any sense.’

‘Hmm… is that so?’

‘It is. Especially to the ones who ask too many questions.’

‘Good thing you corrected me. At first I thought you were a person capable of entertaining conversation. So about Waterdeep?’

I rolled my eyes and gave him a look to peel paint.

‘I didn't choose to be there… I did choose not to stay.’

‘But out of curiosity… what are you to yourself?’

There was a long pause… a span of silent moments in which some unspoken challenge was passed from the man across from me. Long and level gazes passed, he took a swig of his ale… and I another sip of my wine. He didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch from my scorn and harsh words. I could respect that.

‘A phoenix. I burned off the rot and made something better of what was left.’

For once… he didn’t joke. And for once I may have spoken more truth in a few simple words than normal. The conversation continued until I ran out of wine… which from now on… I am going to be much more careful of.
~~

[ENTRY FOURTEEN]

I find myself in an unusual mood. I am sitting here in the shade of some decrepit lighthouse… and feeling sullen. A year has passed since that bastard killed you for protecting me… My dear sister, the one constant my whole life. Your devotion to the Lady of Deception far outshone my own. You lived and breathed mistruth… and it kept you alive for so long. The only truth you ever held… killed you in the end. Anders killed you. For keeping me safe. Bastard. Some day I will stand over him as he screams in pain, and even then the hate I hold for him… Would that he could suffer for every thing he did to you.

As cruel as Cale was to me… You suffered worse at Anders' hand. When you couldn’t stand his appetites… Well let us simply say Cale never minded sharing with his brother… But I don't blame you, Seraphim. I would suffered both of them for you… You do know that don't you? The Hells is a fate kinder than either of them deserve…

There is a man, dear sister, who speaks with your mistruth… He walks with the Mistshadow as you did. I know it… even if he has yet to say it. She guards his secrets well. She guards mine well, as well as I allow her… You would have liked him. He isn’t like the rest of them. Even if he can’t be trusted. None of them can be. I miss the closeness we had, sister. I know better than to seek it in another. I’ll keep only you in my heart, only you who never betrayed me. You who were torn away, and my heart will not bear a similar loss… I will not replace you… or push you away. Sisters forever, you hold my secret, and I yours. I really should have told the stars you were my secret Seraphim… that way you would be forever safe… forever unreachable.

I will do as you ask. You, the angel, and I the phoenix. I did it after all. It took some time, but I got away. Things are good now. The phoenix burned away the rot… and made something of what was left. I’ll learn to walk in this world. Untouchable like the stars. I will burn them to ash for what they did…
~~

[ENTRY FIFTEEN]

Mist and Shadow… I wish you were here. Between these bloody damned fools, and my own foolishness, I don’t know what to do now. Instinct says to run, but hells if I know where. Don’t have much coin left. Going to have to remedy that. Fortunately I have an odd job or two lined up. I am trying to stay out of trouble. I am. Haven’t stolen nothing from anyone. Haven’t tried to kill anyone that didn’t try to kill me first either. You’d be proud sis. I haven’t even killed the Cale-Copy yet.

Gods know he has earned it. Sodding bastard doesn’t know when to pike off and leave well enough alone. Double talking rat thinks he has it all figured out. Thinks I have forgiven his insults and stupidity. Tried to give me a lute today. Says he wanted me to have it as a gift. Gift my arse. Then said I should take it to gain power. Like I am going to owe him anything. Bastard can keep his bloody charity. Nobody does something for nothing. He’s already made it clear that he thinks me a bloody harlot. I won’t be bought.

As if I wasn’t mad enough at him already… well he had to keep pushing. I didn’t back down. Stayed in my chair the whole time. Just like you said. I don’t have to move at the whim of ANY man ever again. It was funny when he smarted off to the barmaid like she was his little play thing too. She clocked him a good one. Gave him a right proper black eye. -I- kept my temper until he started thinking he could boss me about like some little back-water strumpet. Gods he is such a bastard.

‘What do you want?’

‘Can’t a friend sit with another?’

‘I don’t have friends. I agreed to a truce, which means no one dies.’

‘It helps with appearances.’

‘Do I look like I care about appearances?’

He sat there and sipped his drink like we were best friends. I wished I -hadn’t- agreed to not kill him. And that was only the first five minutes… it got worse. He laid an instrument on the table. Not a shabby one. If I had come across it myself it would have been nice. But I wouldn’t take a dying man’s last breath to avoid the hells if it came from that sodding bastard.

‘Take it.’

‘I don’t take charity.’

‘I don’t give charity.’

‘I don’t sell myself for pretty trinkets either.’

‘I am not after your body.’

‘I don’t remember specifying parts. More than a pretty Face you know.’

My eyes narrowed. I didn’t care what he was after… he wasn’t getting it. So I sat there. I kept my voice level. Kept my weapons handy, and waited for him to get bored. Which unfortunately wouldn’t happen anytime soon.

'I don't -want- it. Sooner or later there is always a catch. I'll be damned if I give you half a string to tie in a knot.'

‘I don’t tie knots.’

‘That's what they all say. I don't believe you. I don't trust you. Frankly, I don't like you. Give it to another little harlot. I am not taking it.’

‘You’re not a harlot, your a fighter so use its power to better yourself.’

‘I don't need it.’

‘Everyone needs power.’

‘I've seen what happens when people strike bargains for gain. I am not an idiot. Go away. I am busy. If I gain -anything- it will be on my own.’

He sat there with the stupid thing. Looking at me… just the way Cale would when he was ‘making nice’ which usually meant there was worse trouble to come. I wanted to kill him so bad. But you don’t shit where you eat. I wasn’t about to throw the first punch in a scrap, not in the place that served well enough as home. Fortunately the barkeep is a stand up sort. And the Barmaid threw the first punch. I laughed, I did. I wished I had thrown the punch. It was poetry in motion really… and I am not just saying that. It really was beautiful.

‘I don't want all the power in the Nine Hells if it comes from anything but my own hard work. Pike the Hells off. I am not taking anything from anyone. Least of all you.’

‘You wouldn’t know what the power of the Hells offer…nor what it can do to you.’

‘Because I have a bloody brain between my ears you dolt… and it isn't for sale! Pike off.’

‘Take it. Use it.’

‘No.’

He gave me that look. That I can get you to do what I want look. That threat that never gets spoken. Like he bloody owned me already. Bastard. I could spend hours calling him all sorts of names on parchment, but it is a waste of parchment. He isn’t worth it. I just want you to know how very much I hate him, and how very difficult he is making it to do the right thing like you asked, sis. What a rotting sack of putrid swine!

‘Take it!’

‘I don't take orders. Sod off and rot.’

‘You can take it, or I can force you to.’

Presumptuous pile of stinking filth! Like Hells he can force me to do bloody anything. I wanted to choke him with the damned lute. My hand dropped to my blades. I had seen him fight. Knew I couldn’t win a scrap, not unprepared. Fortunately people were on my side. If needed I’d let him take a swing, enjoy making him bleed a bit, and then when he won the fight, I’d have a tavern full of folks rushing to defend that ‘poor girl that the jerk beat up’ and I wouldn’t have to worry. Besides, there with a tavern full of witnesses, it would be self defense. He touches me, and one way or another I will see the bastard loses his damned hands.

‘No one… forces me… to do -anything-.’

I prepared for things to get sketchy… Barely contained anger, and the barkeep knew it. He asked me why I didn't just hit him, but that was after the fact. Fortunately he got bored with his game, and the barkeep pressured him to leave. So he left. Threw a damned coin at me too like I was some two copper piece of entertainment. Bastard! So yeah… at that point I lost my temper and threw the rest of my bottle of wine at him… which fortunately and unfortunately missed him. Least he left. Going to have to watch that arse. The Star-Gazer says he is all talk. But Cale-Copy was bragging about being a bounty hunter of sorts… And if he is a power hungry pile of rot… I can’t say he won’t try hand me to Anders on a platter for the right amount of coin. I say try, because if he does, he is dead.

So I spent the rest of the day getting reminded why I hate people… most especially men. The Star-Gazer, standing half a chance at being the exception. Which probably makes him the most dangerous of all. He’s a clever little charmer. He has effectively needled into dangerous ground. He makes winning an argument rather damned difficult. Caught me off guard one time and ran with it. Fast. By the time I made sense of it… well, needless to say. I do hope that he walks close enough to the Mistshadow to keep my secrets well guarded.

He reminds me of you so much. Has your knack for Elven poetry and pretty words, my dear sister… Says he is willing to guard the stars… Like you. Maybe between the two of you, I can get ahead of Anders. I must say I was surprised. Those who pay homage to the Lady of Deceptions are few and far between. The scary part is… I can not only tolerate the Star-Gazer, but I’m not sure that it bothers me that he knows more than most.

He dances the shadows like you did too… but not just one or two. I watched him recreate a whole battle. It was brilliant… and reminded me of those few bright shining moments we found under the stars and between the whispers. Oh! But the battle! We fought a -dragon-. An actual bloody, damned dragon! Like the kind we read about in stories… It was terrifyingly magnificent… I wish you could have been there. I could have sang and you could have played your violin. We could have made the battle beautiful. I wished I could have saved your violin, Seraphim… I’m sorry. I will get you another one… for me I guess. I will even learn to play it… like you asked.

But the Dragon comes later… Much later. First, the Star-Gazer and I met up with a group in Nashkell and knocked around a whole sodding pile of giants. That was a grand bit of sport. All night, until my hand was numb from drawing my bowstring, and I thought my damned arm would snap. Was a good outlet for my temper at least. Left me pretty well pleasantly exhausted. There are a few sorts around here that aren’t so intolerable at least.

Ran into Cici briefly… she caught someone she knew, and from the look in her eyes wanted to ‘play’ with, so it was brief meeting. She said that she had died… but was no worse for wear. Least she is back around. She said she should have taken a dwarf to stand between her and the others. Oh well. Speaking of Dwarves… she -hasn’t- seen Grim either. Hate to say it but I hope the little bastard is alright. He isn’t so bad either.

And while on the topic of Dwarves. Got a good laugh out of one. The Star-Gazer and I were set upon by a particularly cranky one. Little runt was going to charge us. You were right, sis. A well placed smile is a good weapon. Stopped him dead in his tracks. I decided to keep him off our heels by tossing my last bottle of Waterdhavian Red. Oh well. I was tired and cranky. Besides now the amusing joke about throwing wine at Dwarves.

Wow, I am tired… my thoughts are jumping all over the paper like a bloody gnome on hot coals. So we killed giants, and the others got bored with that, and we went further up the mountain. Which wasn’t the brightest idea. Those frosted ones don’t play very nice. And they stomp a bit hard. But here we were, pretty much running for our lives and dragging the Rock… Darren or whatever his name is… I swear sis, never seen anything like it. A bloody, walking, talking rock. He calls me Sparrow too. Idiot.

But anyway he died. Dragged him most the way down the mountain and this huge white Wyrm came up on us. The biggest, most spectacular thing I have ever seen! When I was done staring in awe, and being scared for my bloody life… we fought the thing. Nearly had the best of us. We fell the thing finally… it shook the whole mountain. Absolutely terrific… in the terrifyingly awesome sort of way.

The shuddering of the mountain must have upset some of the ‘living rocks’. We had barely got the Rock on his feet when these huge elementals came after us. The Rock was wanting us to wait and be nice I think… but his kin weren’t in the mood for small talk. We were in a bit of a tight squeeze really. Quite literally between a rock and a hard place. Barely made it off the mountain and away from the giant, murderous boulders when we got set upon the biggest damned bugs I had ever seen. Think the theme of the night was Gargantuan Beasts of Murderous Appetite… and we were on the bloody menu. Barely made it to Nashkell in one piece.

We staggered back to the Gate, pretty well spent. Well I was. Haven’t been that worn out since I left Waterdeep. An offer for free wine was enough to keep me trudging on though. I was smart about it sis. Straight from a bottle I uncorked myself. Still not as careful as I should have been. The Star-Gazer and I got in a pretty long little chat, as I am sure you saw from your perch between the moonbeams. I hope you aren’t mad. If you are… I hope you can understand. We talked a good deal about a lot of things… not everything, but I am sure he has enough pieces to guess what the mosaic looks like. A shattered, bungled, mess where some of the pieces are scuffed up and stained.

‘Why can't you just be another jerk. It really is so much simpler, and a lot less nerve wracking than waiting for some inevitable treachery.’

I hadn’t realized I said it out loud until he looked me square on. Hells take it all. I had my hood and cloak off because they were wet from the rain. I was practically naked, hard to out-lie a liar, especially when you can’t keep your face hidden. Still at that point. Lying did little good. He was clever. He dances well with his words. For the first time since you, my dear sister… I had been gracefully out-stepped.

‘Do you truly wish I was just another jerk?’

It would be easier, by the Nines… Gods what in the Hells was I doing? Not sure if all the Stars and Shadows could save me now, sis. Because the truth was… I didn’t know what to think, much less what to do… but part of me was as glad as I was scared… that he wasn’t. Either way, I left pretty quick there after and made my way to the Blade and Stars to get some sleep. Mistshadow guard me… because I am not doing a very good job at guarding myself…
~~

[ENTRY SIXTEEN]

The thrill of a game of words is not in the eventual victory or defeat. Yes even loosing such games can be beautiful if one respects the art. No the thrill is the dance. When two sides match wit and phrase… how beautiful it is. How I have relished it these last few days. I have danced words and matched with many of late. Not one to sully the art with sore loss… I have bowed gracefully out of one or two such debates. How grand it has been!

A rather sour sort came to the Burning Wizard. It was hardly fair, the poor dear. She had what I wanted, the birthday present. Ha. How she floundered as she danced and flailed. Clumsy lies. Still she tried. I must tip my proverbial hat to the effort. Says she heard rumors about me… thought to trade for something other than gold. I would sure in the Hells like to know where these damned rumors have started. I find out who it is, and I will take their impertinent tongue. I am not a harlot. I belong to no one. Never again will I. So what if I served the scum of Waterdeep with a blade in my back. That was Waterdeep. That was Maeve. This is the Sword Coast. This is Scarlett. But I digress. The dour woman surrendered the gem, and in fairness I did not cheat her of coin… much. The thrill is the dance… but the victory is a sweet thing to savor… especially when I’ve a fair bit of coin to look forward to.

I am vaguely aware of those I take as dance partners as I match wits… some of them can be very dangerous… well… Now that I think about it, they all are. It is perhaps the danger that makes the dance so amusing. The deadly risk, or the risks worse than death…

*The one with the mask… dangerous because of his curiosity. He asks many questions… and our wit is fairly evenly matched.

*Cale-copy is dangerous just because of the threat he can represent. I see him as the back stabbing, power hungry idiot he is. Not a good dancer… but a risk none the less.

*The Bleeding Heart even, has his own measure of risk… if people start thinking me -nice-, that could be troublesome. Fool thinks he can save me. As if I need saving. He can’t save the bits of me already damned by Anders… and I wouldn’t bloody ask him to. I saved myself from the rot. I don’t need some panty-waist, sob story soaking my path in his sympathetic tears.

*The Heartless one… he is a danger because he seeks the upper hand… and that could be disastrous. His is a game of profit on the surface. I sense more than that though. And it is the hidden danger that appeals to me. The mystery.

*The Damned Bard is dangerous because I swear that one will drive me to murder, which has obvious risks. With his irritating pet names… that seem all to catching. I should kill him just for that. Sparrow… like I am some fragile little song bird.

*The Artist… that one is a silver-tongued devil if ever I knew one, and he is a deadly sort. The sort that sets one on edge simply because you know you are a half a step away from doom.

*Then there is the Half-Pint Bastard… He can be deadly… though I wonder if he is much of a dancer. For the moment our steps have simply been toward mutual profit.

*Perhaps though my favorite dancer of all… The Star Gazer. He is perhaps the -most- dangerous of all of them, and we both know why, my dear Seraphim.

Oh? I have not introduced you to the Artist. He kills with a grace I envy, sister. True art. Well… he is an arrogant sort. So sure of his deathblows that he has no qualms over who sees them or who hunts. He can be charming… in the way that a deadly thing seeks to lure unsuspecting prey. I will be sure to stay just out of reach. Still, I do admire the speed with which he delivers his deadly art. I’ve a plan too. Not only can he be amusing… but useful and perhaps even profitable. This world is laced in gold Seraphim… and all I need is the right words at the right time to gain much of it. We will see though.

I know what you are thinking dear sister… and I cannot help it. You always chided me for my want to play with fire… I like the risk, I thrill at it. Even if I do get burned… I am the Phoenix after all. I shall not walk through fire unscathed… but I will walk from it as I always have. I know you have that look. That look you give me as I stubbornly cling to my way. Know I love you for it Seraphim, but you and I both know the past has condemned us.

We were not our own things, but playthings at the whim of another. Our freedom bought in sweet death. Either our own… or theirs. You bought yours already, my dear sister… I wish I had been stronger then, perhaps we could both enjoy the dances together. How we triumphed together in those days, even as we faced the likes of Anders and Cale… as we were offered like sacrificial lambs to the very scum of the dirt we walked upon. Bastards. They won’t touch you anymore… and I will make sure they never touch me again. Any of them.

How I miss it though. How we meshed together. We had no weaknesses, sister. I could guard your gentle nature with my fury, and you guarded my shortcomings with your strength. How lost I feel without your wisdom. My intelligence and your sense, what I lacked, you held… and without you here… I feel diminished. I will do my best, dear sister, and one way or another … I will stand.
~~

[ENTRY SEVENTEEN]

Hells! Grim is a damned bastard Dwarf! He pisses me the Nines off. But he is so much damned fun to keep around. Still… sometimes I want to bloody kill him. Like today. Sodding little midget dwarf. If it weren’t for the fact that he was good at killing things before they kill me… and the fact that I actually like having the little pile of stinking rot around… I’d kill him.

I’d been sitting, wine in hand, dancing words with the Heartless one, when good old Grim showed up. Can smell that damned dwarf from two hundred paces… and that’s -after- he’s had a damned bath. So we all had drinks, and Grim and I fell into our usual tooth and claw banter. Good old Grim… yeah. Snuffling little bastard.

‘Hells Grim… at least go rinse off in a damned keg! You smell like goblin rot.’

'An' ye smell like a trout. Pike off, woman.'

‘You first Snuffles.’

'Bah.'

He could take it… he could sling it back. Grim was such fun.

‘So what in the nines chapped your leathers? Orc bunch your drawers?’

'Do I be bleedin' lookin' like I wan' ter be talkin' abou' i'? Wha' we be doin' terday, anyway?'

‘Celebrating.’

'Oh aye? Celebratin' wha'?'

‘Misfortune and discord for starters.’

'Fer someone else, I be hopin'.'

‘Well of course. Here I didn't think you cared.’

'Someone we know die?'

The Heartless one was content to sip his drink and watch Grim and I carry on.

‘We couldn't be so lucky. Cici is alright though.’

'Aye, fer an elf.'

‘She didn't stay and chat… wanted to go -play- with this battered little thing she found. For an elf… she may be alright, but she is off in between the ears. She likes people hurting more than I do. That takes work.’

'She no bein' prancin' aroun' like tha other blasted pointy-ears.'

‘So now that I know you are not dead and she isn't dead… Mister Heartless here is buying drinks, and I am working on a few things to make my pockets a little more shiny. Worth celebrating enough to me.’

‘Don't get ahead of yourself, lass. I only bought you one drink 'cause I owe you.’

Worth a shot. I grinned at him. Then went back to rambling with Grim.

'So wha' we got ter be derin' ter make some gold, eh?'

‘You just keep me alive Grim, and let me talk pretty to a few folks, and we can split the difference.’

He grunted his usual agreeable ‘yes’ grunt… which despite being barely different than his ‘go to the nines’ grunt, his ‘I hate you grunt’ and the dozens of other grunts that are uniquely Grim. He then finished his second ale and belched like a damned pig.

‘Didn't anyone ever tell you its improper to that in front of a Lady, Grim?’

'Show me a lady, an' I migh' restrain meself.'

Heartless laughed, and I grinned. I really didn’t mind Grim so much. Wasn’t every day that I said that, but mostly. Mostly.

‘I could act proper If I wanted to.’

Heartless chimed in with a challenge of sorts.

‘Could you last a whole day acting proper?’

'A whole bleedin' day?'

Grim grunted his ‘doubtful’ grunt. To which I countered I could. Got to the point were a friendly wager was suggested even.

'For the right amount of coin I might.'

‘Aye, ye will do anythin' fer coin.’

I eyed Grim as he skirted an implication. I pointed my dagger at him.

‘Not anything Snuffles.’

Grim shrugged and I went back to cleaning my nails.

‘I think it'd be quite a test of will for you to keep yourself collected around a bunch of idealists.’

‘I could do it.’

‘No glares or smart arsed comments.’

‘I can do it. But I am not wearing a damned dress.’

‘Sorry lass, a dress is part of being a proper lady.’

Heartless smirked.

‘It'll cost extra. A lot extra.’

‘Cost extra? When did we agree on cost?’

‘You think I am putting on a Dress for nothing? Thought you were a realist?’

Well whatever smart reply was about to come out of Heartless’ mouth was lost when Grim had to open his damned mouth.

‘I heard ye be takin' 'em off fer nothin'.’

Bloody damned bastard. My dagger at his throat and he didn’t even flinch. Like that about him too… but now he wasn’t just implying I was a bloody harlot… but a tramp. I have never, ever… been a floozy lay-about.

‘I am not a gods damned harlot Dwarf. And you better damned well watch where you throw your words. Because I don’t sleep around either.’

He met my fury evenly.

‘Go ahead, kill me in fron' o' all these people, lass. Use yer head.’

I think I shot off every swear word I ever learned. Glared enough to wipe the stink off that damned little runt, and he didn’t even blink. Just waited. Didn’t move an inch. I respect that. I really do.

‘Der it.’

I glared a while longer. Heartless just watched, amused. He’s a sodding bastard to. They all are. Every damned male on the whole sodding coast can pike the hells off. Still, Grim is useful, and I did respect his gall, really I did. Bastard. So I took the dagger from his throat, took a measure of joy a the thread of crimson that beaded along the line where I drew it away. As much as I hated to admit it… the Dwarf was a stand up little runt. He didn’t even wipe the blood from the scratch. Didn’t even blink. And despite the fountain of indignant rage and profanity I became for a bit, he just shrugged. Damn his arse.

The conversation turned to minstrels in general, the irritating measure of such and so on. It was decided that the minstrel in the tavern couldn’t carry a tune dead and in a bucket. That elven bards were the worst… most especially ones that call me Sparrow. Slowly my anger cooled, but not before Grim kicked his short little legs up on the table and gave me an opportunity too golden to pass up. He had leaned his chair back on two legs… his feet barely on the table. I reached my foot over and shifted the chair just enough… and let gravity do the rest.

‘Tluinin' naeth!’

He yelled out as he toppled to a pile in the floor. Heartless laughed. I looked straight over at the short, fat little runt.

‘I am not a damned harlot.’

‘Alrigh', alrigh'. Yer no a bleedin' harlot.’

I reached over and helped him to his feet, pleased that I had won a concession without killing him. My pride thus redeemed, we went back to cheery conversation until Grim and the others got bored. I worked on some random rhymes for a bit, and then gave up.

Grim and I did some bashing for most of the rest of the day, and once Grim got tired, I sat at the merchant camp and danced words with Heartless and the Artist. It was a grand day really, but I got sleepy and made my way to an inn for the night. Have to see about some of these more profitable prospects tomorrow. Coin is getting shorter than I would like.
~~