Of Assassins fervour....

At the Guild, I expressed an interest in arcanism and was allowed to review their tomes - it was here I overheard an assassin, bold in his eloquence, decry beast tamer of the Lower Circus. Using the Colonnades, I reached the Circus only to be set upon by a hunting snark hound; a minor cantrip stunned it and my faithful silk bat did the rest. The trainer retired cursing and I gave chase. A passing alley swaggerer waylaid me and I retired to my attic to rest. I had a name though - of that very assassin! A day passed in a haze of small pies and lesser cheeses and then, I went out upon the chancy morn to confront the wretch. A savage duel of wits ensued with his garnered thugs and I was dirked quite badly. My scribing knife found the throat of the vile plotter while I dodged the blades of his bravos. A blast of clouded thunder occluded their wits and the razor sharp claws of my bat did the rest. Since then I have rested upon my laurels and sought skill in the short sword, buying a shortened shamshir which I wear in my scribes sash; it displeases the Master Scriber but I care not. I am now for the Floating Rialto to consult the Vagaries.

An escapade on the Rialto

My scribing, of a pre-reticular demi-sonnet upon a lintel, was disturbed by news of import. The Thane of Tule, whose daughter I had saved from kidnap is being blackmailed! A postillion arrived with a letter of credit and instructions to act as the Thane’s agent to scuttle the villainous scheme. With all haste I meandered to the Floating Rialto and braced a bravo - he knew of a man who had been recruiting thugs. Sadly he was that very man and things went ill, upon the very steps of the Rialto. I left the corpses to be gathered while my silk bat and I made an elusive way to the Narrows. I fear the Watch have my likeness but lo! My old friend Xubwang the Articulate has passed me a coin inscribed with the mark of the Guild of Esoterics and I must hie thence!

The chase, continued in haste

My investigations into the vile kidnap have not halted; I have been assaulted by thugs and even harassed by a harlot at the Grand Fountain. Throughout, my silk bat has aided me and the scribing vouge has been kept sharp.....leaving a note of my findings annotated upon the fly leaf of a rebound copy of “Upon Griffons” in the keeping of the Scribe to The Under Court of Ribbons, I hied to the Brass Temple to face the villain. Alarmingly he was no mere bravo but one of the temple guards and had a brace of thugs as accomplices. My silk bat tore one ear from ear and I unleashed the Storm and Calm upon the villain; a tussle ensued but my bat, my scribing knife and the biting curse prevailed. I have since arranged the release of the poor victim to her family and earned a modest retainer for my efforts; the Scriveners Guild are not pleased at my use of arcanism and I am arraigned - but hist! Is this a footfall upon my balcony? The swift exit calls for me and I must flee in haste!

The chase is afoot

The Beetle Market is awash with rumour of a vile kidnap; recourse to my coded fresco leads my to suspect that Trudvong the Burglar might be aware of the truth. I track him to a disused tenement in the Rattles and with a silk bat at his ear he whispered words of import. I asked my old friend, Xubwang, a dissipated wretch if he recalled the name I was given. Overcome by enthusiasm my friend ran into an unlit portico seeking a note carved thence; he was set upon by a pair of dark cultists, deeply lost in their fervourous raving. My silk bat opened one’s throat while I slashed the other and missed; recovering, I muttered the Biting curse and the remaining vermin collapsed. Tracing the carving I saw Xubwang to his den and hied myself to a pastry seller to consider my findings. 

Disturbing times upon the Floating Rialto; a riot erupted at the Reeve’s Tower and many were vouged until the mob was quelled. A swaggering roister hoisted the Tattered Banner at the Lower Barbican and a great tumult ensued. I was near set upon but evaded pursuit in the Ballustrades and will take more care in the future. Names have been carved for less and none the wiser.

I awoke this morning to find a guisarme buried in my door; my first thought was that it was a mere bill, albeit of a recurved and hooked sort. A secondary glance revealed the essential guisarme-ness of the polearm. Questions are arisen. Surely I am not worthy of such blatant assassinery? I shall throw a silver groat to the Bravo on the bridge this forenoon and ask his views upon my near vouging.

Whither aardvarkery?

What news from the North, they cry? None good and such is the rub - a tercio of bravos has returned, decimated save for a few tatterdemalions who sit swaggering at the gates, irate in their shabby finery and expectorating upon passerby, noble and gutterpicker alike. What to steps to curb this gagglesome crew? None or less I fear and even more the danger since the Aardvark crowed, ravenlike, as prophesied.