Hello me deario! Long time no speaky! Well...this last little while has been interesting to say the least. No, interesting is the wrong word and I'm not sure what the true word is to the point where I may just make one up. Figolop! That's the perfect word! So this last little while has been very figolopish which has been a real pain in the artichoke. Where to even begin? I guess it all started when Dessmond asked for a quiet word with me in the Pony. I was blanking Flynagin a little at this point - I had been moody with him since the incident in the Mess Hall when he was a total git to me and Sylvanara. Ended with her getting burns all down her back and me getting knocked out although I guess that aint really that bad seeing as it happens to me all the time. The nerve of that kid at times! You realise that he broke me arm in a barfight? I was well embarresed. I don't know why I'm friends with him...then again, he is very dear to me. Would never want to see him hurt or anything.
But anyway, I were there at the Pony, smirking at Flyn's idiocy and wondering how to con some more free ale when along comes Dessmond, all ominous in his lovely black outfit and asks if he could have a word with me. So of course, I jaunty on over to him, pondering what it all could be about. "Sefa, you have lots of friends and that don't you? Only I may have to ask a favour" says he, looking all worried and stuff. So I nod in reply, all quizzical as I try and figure out what he's about to ask me and off he goes, "My father is in town! He's come to find me; can you ask one of your friends to hide me someplace?" Now I'm a little confused, however much I don't perticulaly like me family I wouldn't want to hide from them if they came like me brother did. So I query him about it. Turns out that his father's some sort of freak who does wierd stuff with dead things so I were all for hiding Dessmond! I told him he could stay at me tree and although this sounds a little like blasphemy I would rather have him safe and to make one or two sacrifices than for bad stuff to happen to him.
So he stayed at me tree! It were nice having someone else around actually and we became quiet close through it. Anyway, a short time passed and before long I were in the Pony again talking to a stranger. I'd seen him around a little, he had seemed pleasant enough and I had had no problem with him but then...well...things took a little turn. The man started asking about Dessmond and it took me only a few moments to figure out that this was the father that he had been talking about. He must’ve known that I knew more about Dessmond than I was saying. I used to be a good liar and enjoyed playing games with people but I think I’ve told the truth for too long. Now when I try to lie I can’t do it as well. Perhaps the ale is finally addling my brain beyond repair. Anyway, the guy started freaking me out by saying creepy stuff so I mumbled an excuse and hurried away as fast as my limping legs could go. I thought I’d lost him so I went for a little paddle in the lake up near Staddle not realising that I’d been followed. In fact, I was first aware of this when I felt the man’s staff connect with the back of my head and felt myself falling down into oblivion…
The next thing I knew I were laying on the ground, dripping wet, with a hammering head, bound in some sort of rope and staring up into this guys face. He didn’t look too impressed. “Where’s Dessmond?” says he, his eyes filled with hatred and all that dramatic linguistic stuff. I refuse to tell him of course so he whacks me with his spear. This continues for some time despite me best efforts of persuasion and escapitude. Eventually he decides to just give up and simply goes for a different alternative – if I weren’t going to help him then I were going to suffer for it! So he stabs down at me bad leg, right in the knee…yeesh that hurt! But aye, then he slices into me arms and legs, giving me cuts of varying pain, torturing me for the sake of his pleasure. He leaves me by the lakeside to die and I’m as hopeless as I’ve ever been…
I’ve always been lucky I guess. No matter how bad the injury, how terrible the fall, how painful the words, I always seem to get out of it in one way or another whether through my own mettle or by another’s help as in this case. Dessmond found me and carried me to Bree despite the danger. We hid someplace and only the healer and a few others knew of our whereabouts. I stayed in bed for some days, barely able to move. I would’ve died of boredom if Dessmond hadn’t been there…I probably would’ve died of me injuries without him but I guess that’s incidental compared to the boredom bit. Time passed and we talked of many things, becoming rather close through my inability to move and his inability to be seen in Bree without attracting his father’s attention. I don’t remember the last time I cried so much than in this last little while but then again, I don’t think I’ve had this much emotion for some time. Crazy times…
We were safe for some time but eventually Dessmond’s father found us. I don’t know how he did so; he may have followed Dessmond when he went to fetch a healer and was just biding his time or whether he bribed someone to tell him. Still, he found us! It started with him knocking on the door and pretending to be delivering sheets or some such nonsense. We were both suspicious but Dessmond answered the door anyway, leaving just a few moments before a fight broke out between the two men. I was still very weak but somehow I managed to get onto my feet and grab my sword, moving closer to them in case things turned nasty which they did. After a scrap which would have been a lot of fun in different, more friendly circumstances, his father ended up about to put a blade in Dessmond’s throat. I didn’t have time to think of the consequences of my actions, I just did what was necessary to save a good man’s life. I flung the sword forwards and watched with a mixture of horror, relief and disgust as the blade buried itself in his chest. He collapsed onto the ground and Dessmond put him out of his misery. Emotion swelled up within me and that was the last I remembered. I think I passed out but I don’t know. I do know however that I have never felt such guilt before. I killed a man and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let it go…
Figolopish to say the least…
