The city is in chaos. The gods watch over me that I am able to write this addition to the log. The day started early for me. I awoke refreshed and with a mission. I made my rounds and around noon, reached the tavern I had last spotted Kolfax in. He was there, the churl, laughing and drinking with his twin. I could find nothing in the archives about her last night. Kolfax apparently saw cause to omit her from his records. I'm not surprised, there was nothing about his brother in there either. Note to remind myself to investigate the mother at some point. But I digress. Kolfax and his twin caroused for a bit before heading out. In my haste to follow them, I got sloppy. Kolfax looked over his shoulder on the way out and I'm certain he spotted me. I feigned interest in a card game at another table and asked if I could join those seated, squandering any chance I had at tailing those two miscreants as they departed. No matter, I was certain they would return to their meeting place at the deserted Harrow Reading shop. After a quick hand and several coppers, I departed and headed directly for the shop. After several hours of watching it, I felt something was amiss and moved to the door. No sounds. No… anything. It was like the grave. I decided to poke around the place looking for clues. Broken table and chairs, more dust within than on a varisian's work shoes, along with scraps of stale bread and an empty bottle of cheap wine. The tapestries on the wall seemed out of place, but they hid nothing but the otherwise bareness of the walls behind them.
That's when it started. A whooshing sound followed by screaming. I peeked out the door and saw a building on fire up the street. People running amok, crying and screaming, the bleating of the peasantry. But then a cry of 'The King is dead… hang the Queen for his murder.' I have to still my hand as I write this. Unthinking, I stepped into the street into that chaos. Folk crying to me for protection. What am I, a walking citadel? I pushed through and started to make my way south, making best speed for Citadel Volshyenek. I thought skirting near the harbor would spare me the larger portions of the gathering mobs. I was mostly correct. I came upon a scene of pure carnage. Bodies and blood splashed about the street near a decrepit fishery. So much blood. I ducked inside the building to catch my breath and discovered more carnage. A brutish half orc, a gnome or halfling, how do you tell the difference? Some weasely human pinned to a wall by a pitchfork. Most of the bodies inside and out were killed by hideous blows. Like, some great axe hewing into them with incredible force. I drew my sword as I backed out of the building, nearly tripping over a runt of a man digging through the pockets of the bodies in the street. In his surprise, he shouted, 'Twasn't me m'lord… was them hellspawned trio. A man and woman white as snow and their prissy mate. The mans eyes glowed with demonic fury as he cut them all down. Its thems that you wants.' I had missed them in the act, but they wouldn't escape my pursuit. Once I had rounded up enough guards. Yes, this bore Kolfax's mark, his dim mind, and that girder he calls a sword. What was their angle? Why raid this dump. I poked around back feeling safer in the knowledge that they trio had likely departed the scene of the crime. Only to find a feeding frenzy in the water behind the shop. Exactly how MANY people did they murder anyway? And why try to dispose of these?
My introspection was cut short by another whooshing sound and nearby a fireball arced into the sky and slammed into a marine upon his hippogriff. The sheer ferocity of the attack reminded me of my goal of reaching the citadel. I departed the wharf in due haste. I made it about half a block before I ran into a crowd of rioters rushing into the street from a side alley. In the blink of an eye I was set upon from all sides. In the resulting scuffle I lost my grip upon my sword and in the buffeting of the rioters, lost track of it. It shames me that I ended up returning to the barracks without my blade or my livery, but as I shoved through the crowd to recover my blade, my colors were ignominiously torn from my torso. I was lucky to return with bruises to my face and ego and nothing else, for the mob was blood thirsty. Kolfax will have much to pay for when I catch up with him. I'll see that his siblings share his discomfort as well. Murderers and infernalists it sounds like. What foul machinations are they plotting? I must get to the bottom of this… before the city burns to a cinder.