I have found some fine fellows, who have sworn they can put my family’s murderers to justice.
I found them in a run-down tavern somewhere in the middle of absolute no-where. While I was drinking my heart to dysfunction (a new-found hobby of mine), a pretty young woman approached me and sat on my lap. I accepted the gesture gratefully, seeing as I was so bereft of female company (or any company, for that matter).
She brushed back my hair, her smile only marginally fading as I belched in her face, and said, “What’s troubling you, sir? Your wife leave you, or something?”
I shook my head, “No, I’m afraid I’m not married.”
She introduced herself. She had the most ridiculous name I’d ever heard:
I said as much, and she pursed her lips, “Charming,” she said, bitterly, “What’s your name, sir?”
“I’m not sure it would be welcome in these parts,” I had replied, smiling, “But my name is Crion Shadownight.”
She was sent to lure me in, now that I think about it – from her mock-sympathy and her melodramatic prayers. But she introduced me to a few fellows.
A few fellows who had, like me, a hankering to put a stop to all the injustice in the world.
A few fellows who wanted to exact justice on those had wronged them.
A few fellows who called themselves ‘Chess Pieces’.
They promised me an audience with their King soon. Pinky (God curse the one who named her…) is waiting for me in the bedroom, so I must hurry this to a close before she becomes impatient.
I’ve had little pleasure, these last few years. I could do with a change of pace.