I’ve barely enough strength to write this entry this night, as exhaustion and dreariness have taken me again. Yesterday was… interesting. After weeks without work I find myself up to my ears in it, but for whom I can’t be sure. This strange, disappearing figure certainly isn’t a member of the guild, and accepting his job, alone, is enough for severe punishment. We met the man in the Court of Thieves, of all places, after following an elderly town drunk. It must have been impatient recklessness that sent me on that path, for I would never do something so careless in days past. The Order always states: Information will bring you life, it’s absence your death. But really, who has any information on the Court of Thieves? No one alive has set eyes upon that place. Until yesterday, I thought it to be only a legend, but there it was, underneath my very feet for years. Now, I have only a trinket from its throne, a scrap of paper with some scribbled names, and many questions.
But perhaps even stranger than the legendary site may have been it’s inhabitants: Drow. Drow in this city? It didn’t take much for us to realize that we were their targets, and even less to initiate a battle. And fight we did. Three dead lay at our feet, but as to why they hunted us I cannot say. I’m beginning to suspect our enemies may be more than we’re expecting, or worse – what we can handle.
I’m sorry, dear journal, I have forgotten to elaborate on the many “we’s” and “our’s.” Vimik, the Riverboat Rumshack’s bouncer, has accompanied us on this mission, apparently for the same silly reasons Aelith and I accepted. Yet another move the former me would have been appalled to see, but he has more than proven his worth, despite his obvious shortcomings (i.e. dumber than a mule).
Even as weariness seeps into my bones, I fear that I cannot escape into dream like Aelith does now. I am still plagued with nightmares, ones that I fear are all too real. I still see their faces, twisting and writhing in the blackness. I still feel the heat of the sun, burning into my skull like a branding iron. and I still hear the howls and screams of that eternal night, the blistering desert, and myself, waking from the nightmare. I’d give much to have these visions leave me forever, but I can feel that place sinking into me. I know its dark magic is pouring through me, and I can feel it building behind my eyes and fingers. Why fight it now? Perhaps… perhaps giving in will rid me of these nightmares. Perhaps I am just tired.