No Mercy For Death

It had started as drunken ramblings, we were already half gone by then, but we couldn’t shake the idea. It had caught hold of our fevered minds, and it wasn’t like we could stay there. The city was crumbling. Nothing to do but sit and stare at each other. Enough to drive us mad, except that had already been done. Mercy had done it.

She had been a natural born leader over a gang of thieves and thugs; so when disease swept the country again, and took Mercy along with it, we were cast adrift. It was only a short work of time to turn us inward: blindly groping, whispering accusations. It was Death, not us, that stole away Mercy.

That drove us to our search, our quest. Death to Death! A rallying cry to assuage our guilt and bring us together, zealous and deranged. The journey lost us what trust we had left. Miles of hostile road. The gold was waiting, deserted long ago, and our greed grew fast.

I put the poison is the others’ drink; lagging behind I didn’t expect the sword thrust in my gut.

We had found Death.

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