Everyone has those dreams. The trap our sleeping brain lays in which the floor gives way beneath you in painfully slow motion and you fall. So it is with our situation in this filthy city, only the nightmare is real. My instincts were to gather supplies and move onward with alacrity. Such did not come to pass.
These Songbirds are becoming a bother. First this Bluejay that sought to hand me a morally grey job. Though I sorely need the gold I’ll not sell my soul for it. Now we receive a note from someone calling themselves Robin. It turns out she’s more of a crow, in looks and heart; feasting upon the misfortunes of others. Songbirds is an ill name for this group, they are wraiths or perhaps stormcrows; harbingers of darkness and suffering. This “game” they play, where they can do whatever they wish as long as they aren’t caught doing so. Never has a game been designed such that no one will win in the end. The darkest pits of the gods await the souls of those playing this game.
The group decided to overcomplicate matters by making a three pronged approach to the designated meeting place. We truly should have just walked into the place bold as the sun, but I did not wish to be a voice of division within the group. In the end it would have turned out better. While Alberil was laid low by a poisoned draught given by the all too knowing bartender, Altreyssa was arrested for wearing false colors of a noble house. These humans govern what colors one can wear? (If ever I return to my own time I will investigate, if such is still the way things work I shall advice greater caution in our dealings with these people. Such a waste of life and potential.)
After a bumbling mess on all fronts (it turns out both Morgan and Barnaby were outplayed by the massive bartender) and I was aided by Captain Black (I shall have to commend him to his commanding officer if given the chance) in getting Alberil back to our inn. So even in the pits of this city some good still exists.
To say Morgan is distraught would be an understatement. He has gone dark in his mood and I fear he will lose his path to be forever tainted if we do not safeguard his hand and heart. I begin to wonder if his relationship with his sister is altogether healthy. For sure they have known hardships and I can only imagine holding tightly to one’s last kin. To be hunted due to an accident of birth; well such is the way of humans. They hold to family lines and blood over individual worth and accomplishment. Nobility isn’t born, it is earned.
We made our way to the meeting point, guards placed upon the roofs of all buildings. Was this a show of might? It seemed excessive for our group. Eventually we came upon this Robin. Apparently her patron is paying her a fortune to aid us. It has been insinuated that this patron is an ancestor of our brother and sister duo. It did seem odd that someone such as this Robin would aid us, but we have little proof of the veracity of her words. We could be pawns in this game.
Alberil and Aine refuse to aid in a rescue attempt not wishing to break the law. I am saddened but not surprised by Alberil’s clinging to a system of laws that bring no justice, but Aine’s truly caused my blood to grow cold. Seeing one of my people pay credence to such a tainted system, words cannot express my pity. I had wished to substitute Altreyssa’s body with a burned corpse to defame this Duchess and throw off pursuit. Barring that a simple rescue would have been good. We could stock up on invisibility spells and move stealthily. In the end we are forced into playing this game by going through with a farce of a trial, for the color of a cloak and a false name.
Perhaps there is a play here, however. Do Robin and this Bluejay work in concert? What if I was to ensure this manuscript saw the light of day instead of being stifled. Would such an event bring harm to the game? Would it bring to light the truth? Would those oppressed by the powers of this city, were they to know the truth, rise up? Would it be right to alter history so? In my opinion, yes.