It has been a month since my return. A bloodless month. My weapons only ever part from their sheaths to be oiled and polished. This town sleeps soundly; yet evil festers in every corner, behind every shadow, below every rock. A malice left unchecked.
The days are slow; The nights, long. It creeps, barely a whisper, but I sense it: idleness. This calm, uneventful routine that I always found so detestable, threatens to once more rear its ugly head. I require a goal- a purpose. Out there, beyond the hedge, it lies in abundance. Within, it has not yet been found. What has been found, is boredom, with a pinch of disappointment.
Few of those I have met appear promising. Fewer yet shall live up to that promise. And I have yet to meet someone extraordinary. Fortunately, time is on my side. I have developed patience for such matters.
My thoughts are slipping. Too much time spent in peace tends to have that effect. Tonight, I shall head out. Rather than seeing opposition where there is none, I will busy myself with a bit of charity. My contacts have had some interesting things to say, and my own scouting has confirmed their words. It will serve as a sufficient practice to keep these hands occupied.
Judgment has been passed. Wine has been served. Roses have been planted. Blood will be drawn.
[Originally written by the player of Crow (Derakoth)]
