Journal Entry

It's been a while since I've been shot. Been longer still since I felt that ephemeral joy that can only come from blood loss. And, yet, still standing. Nothing comes close to it. I had thought to take a souvenir from what could have only been the leader of those shoddy bandits we slaughtered, but then Roji started spewing things about honour. Honour? In fighting? What a ridiculous notion. The only thing that exists in swordplay is the rush of blood, and the time between the seconds. The frantic urge to bite down on their jugular, and feel their warmth in your mouth, running over, as you drink deep from their inconsequential existence. Wouldn't have imagined any of my compatriots here would have any such notion of anything otherwise. She cut off his head, for gods' sakes. I, perhaps, was a bit too forward. I should have gauged their personalities a bit better. And, I wish to The Hells and back that The Mask hadn't mentioned the teeth. Talk about showing your cards. But, I know when there's a battle I can't win, and pound for pound, she has me beat. I'll simply have to be satisfied with rejoining with my current collection. I need to see about the scheduling of that door that Rikkari mentioned. And, while I'm there, I'll bring up the other thief Mask said he recognized from that job. I absolutely do not care about it, but he insists. Although, first, I should definitely see about that medic that was mentioned. I'm not going to turn down free healing.