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.