Nocte's Last Words

[Jai_V]

Cazen frowned, looking down at the document.

Less then a week ago, Nocte had handed it to him, giving instructions to open it on the event of his death. The thief had no idea he would be mourning the death of his friend so soon.

The only thing that bothered him more then that was the content of the document. While Cazen had expected it to contain important information pertaining to contacts or maybe further insight into the motives of the Black Hand, he was troubled and confused by what he read.

"Maybe it'll make sense to somebody..." he thought to himself with a sad little shrug.

Cazen spent the rest of the day having the letter copied and transcribed, word-for-word, and come nightfall, he posted it prominently in several high-traffic areas around the Exigo Trading Post, Sundren City Trade Tier, Aquor, and Port Avanthyr.

He added the heading "The Final Words of a Fiend, by Nocte Tempore."


Oh and Now
The end is near
And I face that final curtain
So good-bye to strife
This is the last dance of my life

God's of this I'm certain
I've been a sinner.
I've been a saint.
Done both good and evil deeds.
Oh, but in the end, I was good to my friends
and that's good enough for me.

Oh good God's, why
does there need to be a hell?
Hey, what's that sulfury smell?
Now I can feel, the fire, creepin up my thigh.

I'm goin to Hell,
in a handbasket.
Oh, Beelzebub's got a devil put aside for me.

I'm goin to Hell, in a handbasket.
With my flesh they'll make a feast.
I'm gonna be there in that number.
That's 666 the number of the beast.

I'm goin to Hell, in a handbasket.
Well at least I'll have a view.
Oh I will see the fire, through the rusty razor wire.
Oh don't you worry, I saved a seat for You.

I'm goin to Hell, in a handbasket.
And I might like it that way.
No this ain't no lie, I'd rather be fried
Than live and kicking in Sundren any day

I'm goin to Hell, in a handbasket.
I'd pray if I had the guile.
No this ain't no fib, I'd rather be a splatter on the Devil's bib.
'Cause on my knees repentent ain't my style.

I'm goin to Hell, in a handbasket.
Oh please don't pray for me.
No I don't need to be saved, of the devil I ain't afraid.
There ain't nothin he can do that ain't already been done to me.

I'm goin to Hell, in a handbasket.
And I'll have good company too.
'Cause If I was so bad, than there's no need to be sad.

[Peridan]

"Good riddance to bad rubbish." Peridan spits on the sign and walks away.

[Urithrand]

Kolamar Biddle happened to be purchasing some acorns for an experiment when he spotted the poem tacked to a tree. With a whistful smile, he plucked it down and read through it slowly, line by line. The acorns in a bag hanging from his arm still unpaid for as the merchant watched him nervously, expecting him to run.

As he finished reading, Biddle began to laugh. Slowly at first, but louder and louder until finally, he was laughing at the top of his lungs, holding his stomach and wiping away a tear with the other hand. He fell to his knees and laughed there for ages, minutes until he was red in the face and his face streaming with mirthful tears.

"Nocte you old bastard!" He shouted merrily at the sky, "Even in death you still managed to make me laugh you mangy hellspawn!" He clutched at the letter for a few moments before tucking it inside his robes to keep.