Just bear in mind that almost nothing happened and I am attempting to do my best to stretch this out into a somewhat readable entry because I feel like I gypped you guys last week with the "Gulag's Dead, go home" entry
So that was an absolute disaster.
Should have been simple, the Hell-knights roll up to the city intimidate everyone into doing what they're told and claim the city in the name of the crown while I scare some people, and get the money that I was supposed to be paid, you can guess how well that went Journey Journal.
So my night was mostly dragging beaten, battered, and bloody corpses to a god-damned pyre because the Hell-knights wouldn't; my only help being an old man who was so far past his prime that you couldn't see it with a telescope, whose thanks was so profuse you'd think I'd made him young and virile again.
I couldn't bring myself to sleep under the same roof as those murdering bastards so I decided to sleep on the roof, safely tied up in one of the few banners that the castle's new occupants hadn't managed to remove.
After my nap, I flew down to the town, and after a little searching managed to find the only work-shop still open in town, where I made a "small" investment, on the promise that said investment would go into rebuilding the town, and visited to local messeneger's office who promised to carry a letter and a package to my hometown just to let my parent know I'm okay.
I've got to go now Journey Journal, one of the priest's is calling me, it seems like they've found another survivor, this one's covered in burns and lacerations that have already started to go septic, and I doubt I'll be able to him, but I've got to try otherwise what kind of alchemist am I?
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