Draven is known to keep journals written in a language not spoken in Threshton (or at least one not understood by Mak). I was not sure where I should put this so I made a Wiki page…
A mostly uneventful day, at least until the evening. I took a few hours off to go watch that kid beat some fool around the ring, and have a pint with the dock boys. Durham Ortho was there, just returned from his voyage, and I casually asked him the news from Sarto. Turns out there’s been another insurrection, quashed immediately just like the last one. No great surprises there. I had just left the tavern when a group of pale guys in robes rushed past carrying a large bundle. Kajri’s feet were sticking out the end. I got Mak and we took off in pursuit.
We ended up by some rich guy’s basement. I smashed the door in, saw Kajri laid out on the table like a goddamn sacrifice. Evil bastards, fought their like back on the plains of Siria. These wore the typical black robes, wielded the typical long daggers. The two nearest the door, lucky us, were hefty brutes, fighters. Seeing as I was first into the room they rushed me. Don’t count them as the best and brightest. I drew my sword, dodged the one, threw the other to the hard-packed floor and stabbed him through the heart.
There was a whoosh and the sound of splitting wood, loud in the closed space, and I glanced up to see Kajri lying in the splintered remains of a table with a knife sticking from her gut, a jeweled, ‘ritual’ kind of knife. The seeming leader of the cult had been thrown back against the wall, but his two lackeys were still standing and looking angry. Mak’s voice called, “Hey! Uglies!” or some such, as Kajri grabbed a table leg and scrambled into a corner, eyes wide.
Though Mak had called the attention of the lackeys, the leader was still focused on Kajri.
I tried to sneak up on him, but he whirled to face me so I kicked his feet out from under him. Mak… seemed to be turning into a demon, but he had the other three cultists backed against the wall. I dispatched the leader and offered Kajri a hand up.
The dagger in her belly was shrouded in an unnatural darkness. Quick as a snake she pulled the knife out and flung it away. It remained dark as if it were swallowing the light, and it was growing. This couldn’t help but remind me of the jungles of Arafat, and the monster we fought there. So I scooped Kajri up in my arms, shouted, “Run!” and followed my own advice.
I skipped two at a time up the stairs, memories and shadows nipping at my heels. Mak and the cultists, too, were right behind me. I vaulted through the door, landed in front of some rich guy, maybe the owner of the house. I gave him the same advice.
It seemed we hadn’t left through the same door by which we’d entered, heading instead deeper into the house with the shadow boiling up behind. Kajri grabbed my shirt before we could go much further, yanking at it as one might the reins of a spooked horse.
“We have to stop it,” she said, " WE can’t let it free into the city."
I stopped, looking down at her, sighed. “I may know a way, but it’ll be dangerous, especially for you.”
I hesitated. I had only heard stories of how the shadowbeast of Arafat was killed, but most of them seemed to agree on the method. “Light,” I told her, “It eats light but too much should kill it.”
“All right,” Kajri said, steel beneath her words, “Put me down.”
I did, took up a guard stance in front of her and Mak, who knealt beside her immediately and began to tend her wounds. The shadow ate through the door as Kajri conjured fire from the very air around us. It leapt to the walls, the ceiling, a blazing inferno. Without preamble I picked Kajri up once more and we ran from the house. We stayed a minute, two, outside the mansion, making sure it wouldn’t emerge,then made our way home on Kajri’s orders, despite the fact that we should have taken her to see Cass.
Other than that, not much to report about the day. Won two stones betting at Chuck’s and got blood, soot, and yet another hole torn in my black tunic.
End of Day 1