Justice and Vengeance

Date: 4/26/2013 at 18:43
From: Anonymous
To : Everyone
Subj: Justice and Vengeance

Several of the tavern's patrons made signs against evil; goblins were rarely seen by the sailors and whores who frequented establishments such as this. The man paused for emphasis before continuing.

"So after this unfortunate fellow gets picked up by the goblins, they take their time torturing him. Starvation, hot coals in the mouth, whippings, the works. But the way I figure it, he works on them all the same, screaming about this treasure squirreled away in a little tavern in LaMut. Then, after years of this treatment, the goblin tribe up and decides to trade their captive away. Just like that" - the man snaps his fingers for emphasis - "and he was free."

The man paused again, surveying the crowd. Noting with some satisfaction that the attention of nearly every patron of the tavern was fixated on him, he smiled a crooked smile and dropped his voice, leading several patrons near the rear of the tavern to lean forward, straining to hear. "Now, the Eledhel who bartered for his release didn't recognize this man, so scarred was he. Had they known he'd been a brigand of some note in his prime, no doubt they would have treated him harshly, or at least taken him to Duke Martin to face the Prince's justice. Instead, being the gentle-hearted creatures they are, they healed him up and sent him on his way."

The man chuckled, and smiled as his audience remained rapt. He casually flicked his finger, and forced himself to divert his gaze as, in response, his associates at the rear of the tavern began to move casually through the crowd.

"Now, this brigand was still scarred from his experiences, but he was well enough to make his way back to civilization, obsessed with paying back the LaMutian merchant who set him on this path when she wouldn't be a good girl and die, see?" Tapping his nose knowingly, he winked and said, "Now, I'm an honest man, so I can't rightly say what happened next. But somehow a necklace meant for the Countess of LaMut went missing, then was mysteriously returned. When our friend the brigand saw his opportunity, he suddenly appeared" - he slammed his hand down on the table for emphasis, causing several patrons to jump in their seats - "in her bedchamber. See, whether from suggestions from our brigand friend or of their own accord, the goblins' tribe raided the very shop where the LaMutian merchant made her trade. The enchanted necklace brought the brigand right to Mirinisini as the Countess tended to her."

Superstitious grumbles rippled through the tavern at the mention of magic, and the man noted with some satisfaction that his associates were slipping silently through the exits. With a crowd this large, no doubt their purses were considerably fuller than they had been a moment ago. The man allowed the grumbling to continue for a moment before raising his hand for silence. "Now, you may call me a teller of tall tales for this, but I swear what I say was told to me by many travelers recently through LaMut. While our friend was preparing to kill Mirinisini once and for all, her husband was waging bloody battle in the mountains, on behalf of the Duke of Yabon, seeking to put down the goblin chieftain who executed the raid."

Sensing that he had the attention of his audience once more, the man smiled a crooked smile and made a sign to Ka-hooli, The God of Justice and Vengeance. "Ka-hooli took a special interest in this cause, and at the moment of victory, He swept down and possessed Tasiro, the husband. When our friend the brigand attacked Mirinisini, Ka-hooli gave her the same treatment, and our friend was swept away by His divine will. To my knowledge he's not been seen or heard from since."

The man grinned at the disbelieving stares directed his way. "If you don't believe me, seek out the order of Justice, my friends. If the stories are to be believed, these two work even now to carry out the divine will of Ka-hooli."

The man allowed his story to lapse into silence. Judging the time ripe for departure, the man rose from his seat and executed a small bow. No doubt the patrons would soon realize their purses were lighter than they had been, and he preferred to be safely away when that occurred. As the buzz of conversation began to pick up in the tavern, a familiar, raspy voice sounded out from a shadowy corner of the tavern. "Ka-hooli is not only the God of Justice, Emmet."

Emmet turned to the source of the voice: a man seated in a shadowy corner of the tavern, whose features were cowled by a voluminous cloak and deep hood. Emmet blinked, speechless, then performed a double-take as the man who was until recently his employer vanished in the blink of an eye. Shaken, Emmet glanced around the tavern to see if anyone else had taken note of the exchange. Seeing that the occupants of the tavern were utterly engrossed in their own affairs, Emmet turned and slowly made his departure, ashen-faced.


Desmond smirked. His life was beyond petty crime, but he might have use of his former underlings in the years ahead. Emmet was clearly the new ringleader, and he would be better prepared to serve him if he knew he yet lived.

As he made his way down a darkened alley of Margrave's Port, Desmond relaxed his senses and allowed the gift of his god to sweep over him. Nearby, he could tell, a fishwife was silently praying for the death of her cheating husband, while closer to the docks a whore was fantasizing about an abusive client suffering mutilation.

Desmond reflected that the hatred he had focused for so many years upon Mirinisini had been displaced by a more profound awareness of the rage flowing through the veins of all the world. Justice was civilized and noble, but vengeance was primal and sweet. He was a servant of the God of Vengeance, and in bringing satisfaction to those judged worthy, he would continue to cause difficulty for Mirinisini and all those who advanced the weaker aspect of his God.

Desmond ran his tongue across the charred flesh around his lips, considering. Suddenly grinning to himself, he picked up his pace and turned toward the docks. Mutilation suited his mood.

Penned by my hand on the 7th of Staphron, in the year 45.