The Last Show

I'm nearly free. And in pain.
 
Today a dragon-man accompanied by a man dressed as a whoremonger came to our Del'Orta performance and killed almost everyone I care about. The reptilian still insists he was in the right for his bloodlust. Those who have never known true bondage will never understand what it is to be a slave -- the physical toll, and the way your captors chip away any attempts at one's own personal thoughts. A slave with a child on the line doesn't have a choice. He'll die for them. And he did because they killed him for it.
 
Timothy Jebba is dead. Never did live up to his brother. I won't lie to you, I felt immeasurable pleasure hearing his last breaths. But that joy was soiled by the deaths of the others.
 
The young ones are dead. Neema has kept me sane through these days but I fear for her safety too. The whoremonger seems to have a compulsion to talk his way into trouble, and I want no part of it. But before we could escape the circus, a group of pirates hunting the whoremonger followed him to Del'Orta, and now they've become my problem as well. I will never forget the day I met the wretched Orlando and the heartless Zashi Senhotep.
 
And I didn't even get to kill that damn scorpion.