Thursday is here, our weekly toil is almost at an end (to be followed up by the weekend toil, no doubt), and tis time for some Shadow Wolf.
You know the drill.
Here is the first post: link
Here is last week’s post: link
Here is the guide: link
Lord Torvul’s ambitions died in the tunnels under the Old Port, a half forgotten ruin that just happened to house an old Waygate that he knew how to open. Some of his men escaped, but many of these fell victim to the other denizens of that lost realm. We took his head with us when we left, just to be sure. I tossed it in the sea as soon as the sun touched my face.
We did not leave our dead behind. It is a hard thing to climb out of such a place, with such a burden, but it can be done.
Armed with the list that we had recovered from the alchemist Stazz and Sons we rounded up all of the people that the Devout were forcing to work for them. Murith used what she learned from questioning these hapless souls to find where the Devoit had been lairing; a smugglers cave in a cove not far from the city. There were even a few of the bastards left in it when we got there, happily.
Like Sapphire, the woman whose death had started my involvement in this, Madame Glorianna was laid to rest in accordance with the rites of the Sirutiran God, Kamesin Greeneyes.
The priest invoked the freedom of the steppe, the cries of the eagle, and said that she would find her place in the blue sky. I found that oddly touching, and I hoped that it was true. Madame Glorianna had died bravely, choosing to end her life rather than being used as a shield by her enemy.
The visitation afterwards was attended by thousands. The entirety of the Doxies guild, save those slain in the Devout attack, turned out. The men and women, whores, bouncers, toyboys, and pimps looked sad and resplendent as they bid their leader goodbye. The twins were among them, tears hidden behind black lace veils.
In a show of solidarity the city watch turned out in their dress uniforms, Murith front and centre, and more than a few members of the Guild stood sentinel on the rooftops. It was touching.
The body of Harald Magnison was set in a ship. When the sails caught the north wind, the ship was set free, given eave to run toward home. His eldest remaining son fired a burning arrow into the ship, setting it alight. I watched from the back of the crowd, tolerated but not acknowledged.
I was there when Madame Glorianna’s will was read. The room was tense. After all, with Madame Glorianna gone the top spot in the Doxies Guild was open, and solidarity was wearing thin by then.
I was mostly there to support the Twins, who were considering making a play. I was not surprised, however, when my name was called. After all, Madame Glorianna was my first employer in the city, and she and I had an excellent working relationship.
She left me a letter. The contents surprised me.