Day Six-Fifty-One: Life sucks

That bitch. That bitch. SHE LEFT ME IN THE LURCH, THAT BITCH. I know my mom would tell me that I'm getting what I deserve for being a criminal, but gods damn that BITCH LEFT ME IN THE LURCH AND YEARGH

WTF MAN

Cripes. Okay. Level head. You've been in shit like this before, Logan. You've escaped trouble. You're a master thief! You can get out of here! You don't need some half-snake wench to save your butt! You are da MAN!

...

Except I really could use the help of a half-snake wench right about now.

I am currently trapped in a dungeon, in the basement of possibly the largest fortified structure in the world, in possibly the largest city in the world. I am here because my sister had a decent, but risky, idea - and the third partner in our venture, Nagi the Thief, betrayed us. She escaped; we did not. Somewhere down here is the rest of the crew of the Dauphine, though I'll be damned if I know where. We've all been captured... save one other occupant of the ship. And it made its way here on its own anyway, so...

Diary. Little scampering diary. Weird, strange, odd, peculiar little diary. Dragomir told me that you could grow legs. Having seen it for myself... having watched you hop up a stack of crates beside my cell door, knock the slit in my door fully open, and fall in at my feet... it's a weird, weird world we live in these days.

Not that you can much help. You brought me a pen, true, and there's enough oily grime coating my walls that I can write as much as I please - but that's the extent of your aid. Sigh.

I wonder why you didn't go to Dragomir. Is he somewhere you can't reach? If so... that bodes ill. Very ill.

The guards are seemingly non-existent in this dungeon. What few overseers we had on Friday have disappeared today, leaving hallways lined with starving and parched prisoners to echo mournfully with sobbing complaints and tyrannous demands. I'm pretty sure Celine's the only one who's not bitching, 'cause lord knows I've uttered my share of useless threats today.

I'm not totally out of the loop, though. There's ample evidence of ill goings-on aboveground. I have no idea what's causing 'em, but every now and then we're treated to loud BOOMs that shake the walls and silence the inmates for a few moments. They could be cannons, or explosions, or falling buildings, or the burps of a satiated sloth. I really don't know. All I can gather is that these sounds are not normal for the Imperium's palace, if the other prisoners here are any indication.

(One old man keeps screaming that the world is going to end. Bloody loon claims the sloth is coming for him, specifically. Sure it is, dood.)

I'm working on a way out. My cell has... evidence... of previous occupants. Bones, to be precise. Distasteful though it may be, I'm trying to rig them into a lockpick I can fit through the bars and loop down to the lock. Kind of a sad homage to Nagi's much more dextrous tail, damn her black soul. I wish I could teach the diary to do this for me, but... well, all it does is sit there, now that it's found me...

Sigh. Mayhap Nagi was right to take off. Back with Dragomir for less than two months and already I'm imprisoned for what little may remain of my life. I never even got laid.

Sincerely,

Logan the Thief