IntoTheMouthOfRavness

I am a simple man that has so far lived a simple life. All I wanted was to build structures that would stand the test of time so that a little peice of me would live on long after I was dead. Now however I feel as though I have been caught up in events that are far greater. I left my lands what now must be two years ago after the death of my blevoed wife and darling daughter with the intention of finding funds and equipement to spark a revolution in my home land. Instead I find myself lost, and without much hope of finding any tangaable direction to achieve my goal. I have however found people that may help me in this. Only recently I found them in Lamordia, or to be more accurate, I was brought to an inn that there were staying at after almost freezing to death. I have travelled with them over the last little while acomplishing certain tasks that were set before us. These tasks brought us to Mordent and once done we were at a loss of what to do next.
I had lived with the Gunderakerites for a little over a year, and while with them I heard many tales told. Tales about Saints and Sinners, about dark magics and about beasts that roam the nights, but also of Gypsies and their ability to divine the future. It was at this point that I decided to mention to my friends that I wished to seek out these Gypsies so see if they could help with me in any way. Little did I that I was making a deal with Zakata. I got my future read, but first they made us swear to do a deed for them. One that I’d rather not write down because it is so distasteful, but for direction, for revenge, for sake of my people I agreed. I was surprised to find that my companions also agreed to help, but they truely seem to want to help.
The reading was cyrptic to say the most, with imagery and interpitation being the only guide. The deatils are foggy in my mind but one card stood out, The Dictator. The card spoke to me in so many ways. Even the card itself. The picture was of a man that was either dead or dying in a barren field, surrounded by eight swords. The man was not in fact the Dictator, but rather a vicitim of his demonic and despotic rule. The swords all had jewels in them like unblinking eyes. The ubquitous nature of those unflinching eyes reminds me of the “clergy” of my homeland that deny food to the people. How can one not allow their people to eat? It doesn’t matter, they will die by my hand. All I truely gathered was that there were events that coming that we will all be swept up into. Which means at least something is going to happen.
I had the misfortune to meet the man that had been robbed of everything, just as I had. His son was stolen by the Gypsies. He was the man that we were sent to rob. There was an item that we needed to get from him. It appears that the Gypsy scum had sent us up against a man that was out for revenge for the kidnapping of his son. The man is dead now, but not by our hands. There is greater things at work that I do not understand, nor do I truely wish to understand. There is a fire in my belly, anger that burns against people that can rob a man of so much. When we go and meet these Gypsies, answers will come, or so me, this will not go unpunished.