"Iadul! IADUL!"
The private's exclamation echoed through the uncharacteristically quiet streets. Even the Grey City was silent, mourning the loss of a great number of those sworn to protect her. The gruesome scene laid before him was nothing new - men have shown up in far worse shape after an exceptionally enthusiastic keelhauling aboard his ship. The sins of those victims beneath the ship justified the captain's ire, however, and it were never him that carried the punishment through. That privilege went to the quartermaster whom he shadowed, which the man accepted with a ravenous glee. The victims would never survive the first trip to the depths - a mercy provided by the Sea of Abendego as she took pity on the poor fools on the end of that forsaken rope.
What made this scene so different was the lack of provocation. Those who were without sin received the stoning and a gruesome one at that. The looks of horror on the faces of the slain Garda did not stir him, however. He standed firm to the side, surveying the carnage without expression as if it were just another business deal that had merely gone sour. As the Garda that were spared the reaper's grip showed up, a story began to form. The scene a few hours prior played through in his head repeatedly as he realized how this Wolf-masked scoundrel retained access to the city, even after escaping so nonchalantly to the west.
The bastard leveled an entire checkpoint of Garda before making his way through the city and the surrounding area, presumably indescriminantly murdering all in his path. Exeunt stage west, he did not even lift a finger to Esteban as he passed by. No exchange of words, no recognition of his existence. Logically, this man's bloodlust must have been filled at that point. The scene that now lay before him proved otherwise. Five more Garda now lay in pieces for all to see with a message so clearly scribed: "You are next".
"This will be bad for business" he thought, but another occurred to him as well. Perhaps this was his chance to prove himself an ally to the city that so graciously provided him shelter, opportunity, and hope. A chance to repair the relationships left tattered from recent events on behalf of those now close to him. As he spoke to the Corporal, four haunting words once again returned with the familiar, incessant ticking at the back of his mind. "It needs to be done. It needs to be done..."
He found himself mindlessly repeating those four words before realizing what had just happened. "It... Needs to be done... If you'll excuse me Corporal..." Shaking as he stood, a pale Esteban returned to the Rest to lick his mental wounds and make sense of it all.
I̵̧̪̰̬̜̤͒͌͐̇͜t̸̨̺̝̥͉̞͖͖̟̟̞̯̎͂̃͋̓̒̚ͅͅ ̴̱̥͊̌̎̈́̄̓̔̈́̔̈́͌̀̓̔̚͝͝͠͝͝ẁ̶͕̊͊̄̉̐͐̎i̶̤͙͙̩̹̰͉̰̰̫̖̘͇̹̹̯̒̈́̋̏́́̊̿̚ͅl̸̢͔̠͙͇̓͋̌̉͛́͂̑l̴̡͎̼̲̗͖͎͖̻̟̖̲̻͋͜ ̷̨̡̮̲̫͉͙̪̼̱̗͕̩̗̳̅̌͑͋̽́͗̔̎̈́̅́̚̚͜͜͠͠͝͝b̸̨̛̲͇͎̬̦̺̥͈͉͚̦̉̆̒̇̄̐̀̈̇͗͝ͅe̷̤̺̓̅̐̒̈̑̓̀̐͌̚ ̵̡̡̞͕̹̺͈͐ͅͅḏ̷͒͊̀́́̓̉̆̂̃̀̔̂̿̚͝͝ō̶̭̰͙̪̬̿̐̈́̆̎̿͑̂͒̚͜͝͠ñ̶̨̥̮̣̪̺̖̰̪͉̞͓̦͎̱̖̓̍ͅē̶̢̧͉̺̰̩̼̩̩͚̤̼̲̖̳͖͖͌͗̇̔͑̑̈́͘ͅ.
