Shades 006: Regrets Are For Survivors

I ain't usually the type to wax nostalgic, but... it ain't been one o' my proudest days.

A bird gainin' his wings in Aberdeen ain't the the easiest process. From the moment your beak busts the egg open you're told that you're a thief and a hatched one at that. Got tall mouthy outsiders eyeballin' your claws even before you take a glimpse o' a store, let alone any valuables. Some shopkeeps even have the audacity to have a bird searched even after he's made a purchase legitimately, just in case the sale was but a ruse. Say what I will about Zelkor's Ferry, and I'll say a lot, but no one's needlessly hurled accusations o' thievery my way so that's gotta count for somethin'.

That all said, a lot o' tengu make a livin' outta baubles that othershave conveniently misplaced. The problem's hung like a bad smell over Aberdeen since long before anyone can remember, so long that no one can tell whether tengu set to thievin' before they was treated like thieves, or the tengu decided to just fuck all ideations o' social integration to the wind 'cause everyone treated 'em so first. Either way, Aberdeen's got a daikatana lodged so deep up its hole that it ain't able to shift its weight even by a toe, let alone change its stance on social relations and the dirt poor masses to a more flexible one. That daikatana is the law, and she's a sharp piece a work if there ever was one, and Aberdeen ain't bendin' over for nobody.

It's more common for a bird to die a starvin' cripple than it is to have his own roost, many o' them crippled when the law took his claws for emptyin' the wrong fancy pockets or his tongue for sharin' the wrong secrets. I might notta left the monastery on the best o' terms, but they saved my sorry tail a lot o' misery.

So today to my wildest surprise I found myself on the other side o' the law, wieldin' the blade as it were. Sure I'm Grand High Featherbutt o' the land somehow and I got myself the fabulous shitpile o' a castle to prove it, but that don't mean I know how to like it. The recruits o' the Company took a mighty shinin' to the bandit-kickin' plan, and sure as the beak on my face we found ourselves some bandits to bring to justice and strike outta the adventurin' picture. Unfortunately they was nothin' like Hengsha and her runners, or this dreaded Korlak I keep hearin' word of, but were everythin' like those birds back in Aberdeen. Our ambush had half o' them sorry bastards dead before they had the chance to surrender. Turns out their greatest crime was a single crate o' soggy furs between them, and the blanket penalty for any kind o' banditry in this county is the noose. 

I just couldn't let the law have its pound o' flesh again, so I've brought the survivors back to Castle Calaelen, under my custody. I ain't quite sure what to do with them, and I know they ain't going to like livin' with the hoons who dusted their comrades for gold in the slightest. In particular their leader Karina is a right mess, as anyone would be if they were cooped in with the lugs who got her husband's blood under their claws. It ain't ideal for anyone involved but it just has to be better than the big violent sleep that was waitin' for them in Tsar.