Journal of W.E. Tupper, Day 152

[technically the first part takes place on Day 151 okay]
Day 152
I hate that gnome.

He woke me up by gently standing on my chest and staring at me, then got offended when my response was to scream and swat him off. He gave me the choice of riding about the streets or patrolling the sewers. I chose the option that was slightly less likely to get me arrested. I was then equipped with "sewer goggles" which fogged up almost immediately inside their intended area of use.

Ah yes, the sewers. Cramped, damp, and smelly; just as I remember them. We marauded about in them for most of the night, with Cogmer peeking through a drainage grate now and then. At one point he popped open a grate, climbed out, and tackled a full-grown human woman to the ground; declaring her to be a "streetwalker of ill intent." I managed to drag him back into the sewers without showing much of my face. I was berated for "still thinking like a guardsman" and for withholding justice upon the "guilty." He claimed he wasn't going to kill her, but he's not the sort with any tangible self-restraint. Hells, even Alcander knew when to back off sometimes. (It was rare, but still.) The woman was fine, by the way. Bruised, scared, and confused, but fine.

When we were done ruining our boots, he took me to his hideout (also known as the basement of his house). He'd added an accessway to the sewers since I was there last, as well as an underground goat stable. He also made it twice as deep and practically covered the walls in weapons. He wanted to put me through a style of training called Muntaj. When I asked him what it was, he cackled and gave me a sandwich. Before I could take more than one bite, he started up training me on that damn crossbow. Then he let me back to the table to rest, I take another bite, and he breaks out the throwing axes. Bite of sandwich, practice with greatswords. Bite of sandwich, practice with crazy bent knives. Bite of sandwich, get drug around in a net by someone half my size. It took four hours to eat the damn thing, and by the end of it all I didn't want it. Then he slapped a spellbook down in front of me. Apparently, being a blood-crazed vigilante is a varied and studious life.

Finally I had reached a breaking point. None of this makes sense, I told him. All of this is bullshit, I said. Why should I be dragged along by this insanity? That's when he tells me why. Not before, when I could have convinced somebody in the Sable Lions to help, but now.

The crate killer is in town, and he's making to leave tonight.

I hate that gnome.