SELECT ENTRIES FROM TAMMY’S JOURNAL.
June 20th, 1595.
Fuck my Dad’s gambling. Fuck his bookie who encouraged that shit. And Most Of All. FUCK YOU TOO, TOM, for suggesting selling the Bakery off in the fucking FIRST PLACE!!
No. NO. Most of all FUCK YOU FOR ENCOURAGING AN EARLY SALE WHEN YOU KNEW I WAS TRYING TO FIND SOMETHING THAT COULD PAY IT OFF. We’d still have the Bakery if it wasn’t for you, “BROTHER.”
We’ll see if I cut you any of the profits.
July 9th, 1595.
It’s official. Karah and I are now banned from our home town. Well, ‘banned’ is putting it mildly. Apparently SOMEONE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED told someone in the museum hierarchy that Karah and I are both “Clinically Insane” and have “Delusions of Grandeur” with “no real proof” of our claims that we have Kyiahlnah’s lost treasure vault, and that our hot-air balloon is actually “a giant bomb waiting to go off.”
GEE. THANKS, TOM.
I CAN’T POSSIBLY SEE HOW THIS ISN’T REVENGE FOR OUR CUTTING YOU OUT OF THE PROFITS.
NO WAY THAT WE’RE NOT ABLE TO GET ANY EITHER SO WE CAN BUY BACK THE BAKERY.
IT’S ALMOST LIKE YOU HAVE AN INVESTED INTEREST IN SELLING OFF THE BAKERY LAND SO THAT YOUR AND DAD’S BOOKIE CAN BUILD YET ANOTHER CASINO ON THE LAND.
Oh wait. That’s because you DO!!!!
Oh, and to make it even WORSE? Apparently Tom’s gone and gotten his ‘girlfriend’ pregnant. We all know that she-devil of a Sylph is the the bookie’s grand-daughter. Cut from the same cloth too. Damn bitch is probably the one who told them all what we had and now why everyone is trying to hunt us down for ‘domestic terrorism.’
Karah says fuck them, and I say fuck them too.
January 31st, 1596.
We barely got away with our lives that time. This balloon is starting to draw too much attention. We’re going to have to hide it somewhere… somewhere they won’t look. I’m thinking something mythological- childhood mythology, specifically. Nothing pre-cataclysm or pre-creation, either. Can’t let the Creators getting any ideas. Don’t want them finding this vault any more than we do Tom’s new ‘family.’
August 11th, 1597.
We’ve been on the run for almost two years now, and we’re starting to get a plan put together. It involves us giving them a Trumpet from the Treasury Vault. It’s gold, it’s glittery, and it looks really expensive.
It’s also magical- and was rumored to be able to grant any wish. As mentioned before, we tried it out, and… it mostly works.
I say mostly because if you’ll remember, journal, Karah made a “I meant well but didn’t think it through” type of wish to test it out and now the damned thing’s stuck on her last wish- chickens. I was happy to have a constant source of food that didn’t require us going into town, but even chicken meat gets tiring after several months of nothing but the same meals again and again.
I’ve picked up a bit of enchanting… so we’re going to curse the Chicken Trumpet further- a simple tracking spell, and a more complex one that will mark every single one of our targets with a curse of good fortune… up until it turns very, very bad for them in all the worst ways imaginable.
May 4th, 1598.
FUCK. My nephew Mike got hold of the Trumpet when Tom died from a heart attack (My bet is on Trumpet Curse #2). SHIT. FUCK. DAMN IT ALL.
We were hoping to keep the kid out of it but NOOOO. URGH. Damn inheritance laws. It was supposed to go to the BOOKIE. NOT MIKE. Hopefully his curse will trigger early and he’ll be able to grow out of it.
March 18th, 1600.
The curse enchantment on the Trumpet seems to have worn off by now, without the added downside of the curse triggering (yet?). It wasn’t supposed to stay in anyone’s possession for this long. Nor was it meant to go to a freaking KID. Alcor, Mizar, by all the Creators themselves, I didn’t mean for him to be THIS kind of LUCKY!!!
You know the kind I mean, Karah. Don’t give me that thing where you wriggle your eyebrows all suggestiveL_____
Okay. Yeah. Um. That was a thing. With the ear nibbling. And the– I’m getting off track. Where was I again? Right. Mike. And the curse.
God-damned Mike Flynn’s become a kid Casanova- you know, like the old faerie tales the Creators passed down? I shudder to think what’ll happen once he gets to the age when he’s able to actually bare his own kids… or how the curse will affect them.
I’ve got to find a way to put the plan back on track.
June 20th, 1608.
Thirteen Years old and my worst fears have come true.
Damn it, Mike.
The curse has already started to manifest, too. In the form of irreparable damage caused in a miscarriage.
And the coward… that damned coward sure is proving that Tom’s legacy is in good hands. He’s PAID THE POOR GIRL AND HER FAMILY OFF and instigated a whole family uprooting from Rainbow Line!
The plan is still in disarray. Instead of the Trumpet making its way into Kaven Dish’s possession, it’s now been given to some foreign bank as COLLATERAL for some fancy new toy Mike’s mother bought.
We’ve got to get that Trumpet back before more people get cursed.
IT WASN’T MEANT TO GO THIS WAY.
October 8th, 1610.
Mike’s Mother, Louise Flynn, has died of a tragic stopping of her heart. By way of a dagger, piercing flesh and rending bone. I’d say good riddance, but the damn bitch was murdered by her own son!! Mike managed to hold off of getting any girls pregnant of his own accord- or that was what Louise wanted us to think. Turns out she had Mike’s fertility suppressed with a suppression rune set that was tied to her own health and life force!
Mike had her killed to break that enchantment. While I’d say suppressing someone like that is ‘cruel and unusual’- Mike seems to be turning into an outright psychopath!
What the hell kind of family am I related to!?
-Tammy ??? (I don’t want to be a Flynn anymore.)
January 20th, 1612.
Mike did it again. This is the fourth girl and the fourth subsequent uprooting in two years.
In other news, Karah proposed last night. Holy shit!
It’s not like it came out of nowhere. I mean, we’ve been pretty much sleeping together for years now. But-
Damn it! I wasn’t expecting it!! I was planning on proposing first, but I hadn’t found THE RING just yet and… I’m not complaining. It’s a very nice ring. And It’s perfect too… But I had this whole heist planned out and everything. We’d break into a certain museum- we steal this ring set of some royal family’s ancient ancestors- I propose with those as we make our dramatic escape!
I guess I’ll have to find something else to do with these heist plans.
-Tammy. To be Sayaka. Tammy Sayaka. Tammy. Sayaka. (I love the sound of this. I really, really do.)
September 19th, 1613.
The wedding went off without a hitch, despite our using our real names. I’m sure the Mystryal Detectives will excuse our break of character just this once. Karah looked lovely in that wedding gown… and even more so with it burning to ashes around her.
In more depressing news, Mike got away again. (AGAIN!!!!)
As previously mentioned in the last thirteen consecutive entries (WOW, MIKE. THANKS FOR THE WASTED JOURNAL SPACE!), Mike’s slept with and abandoned so many women and girls he’s actually gotten the family banned from multiple towns. Most of it isn’t even my doing anymore! It seems the Trumpet’s curse is finally manifesting in his life full time now in so many different ways. He seems to be actively avoiding us now, thanks to that initial burst of luck keeping him… well, “Lucky.”
It’s sheer luck that he manages to get out of town before I can do much of anything to hurt him or the family businesses at this point. He’s wizened up after the last five attempts on his life. But we’re not calling this luck anymore, are we, dear Nephew?
It probably doesn’t help that each of his moves is precipitated by my and Karah’s dramatic arrival in any given town, striking out at whatever business venture he’s gotten himself woven into this time. Maybe something more subtle this time? Breaking M.O. Seemed to confound the Detectives for the Wedding… This will have to require a change of plans.
Otherwise, I’m considering simply just hiring someone else to kill him at this point, just to prevent more tragedy from falling upon others. But, I’ve lost track of him for the moment. We’ll see where he winds up this time, eh?
-Tammy Sayaka, recently made wife of Karah Sayaka.
December 21st, 1615.
The glitter festival’s rolled around again and again, and I’m sure Mike has moved to somewhere in the Clover Isles (or maybe Jaw’s Tusk?) As I was trying to track him down further, you’ll never guess what showed up in one of the festival events. That’s right. That damned golden, chicken spawning Trumpet. It’s been reworked a few times- reshaped, remolded- to look like a key, but it’s magic? It’s enchantments? I could sense my own work flaring up like a beacon!!
I now understand why my curse hasn’t faded. The damned wish magic on the thing is recharging my own rune work!! It’s become its own, brand spanking new, kind of cursed object. Fuck. Over the years in Hergie’s Guild, I’ve heard about certain people who hunt down objects like this. How the hell hasn’t it garnered their attention yet? This has been going on for years and if *I* Could sense that energy pulse from half-way across the plaza, why haven’t they come after it? Or what about the Mages Guild??
Regardless, take a guess on who was waving it around like Karma’s little perfect bitch?
That’s right. Kaven Dish. Dad’s old bookie. I’d nearly forgotten why I’d made the damned trumpet in the first place. It’s finally in his hands. He’s become Mayor the local City and he *has the trumpet*- but I’ve got no clue if he’s cursed, or if Mike is anywhere nearby…
But I will. Soon. The plan is finally taking shape. I just need to find Mike’s new residence and soon we’ll have ended this farce once and for all. We’re going to need help, though, and fake names. Karah too. Our… activities over the last decade haven’t exactly been subtle. Any teammates we get will be wary if we use our real names in this.
-For Now, I’m still Tammy Sayaka. (And still loving it!)
December 9th, 1618.
We’ve got a team. We’ve got a plan. We know where the people will be… we just don’t know where the damned Trumpet is being stored. We might have to cause a huge stir to get it out into the open. Karah/Cheeky will handle the pyrotechnics. I will handle the transportation. Our teammates, Fauxey/Lycandre, and Barry/Lowah, will provide the front for the operation, drawing scrutiny away from Karah and I.
Regardless, Mike Flynn must die tomorrow for the sake of the girl he’s presently wooing before she gets pregnant. A new development in his curse has arose that I’ve recently become aware of. A stray thought had me check in on those poor girls who miscarried because of him, and they have been dying since early August of this year. I can’t figure out what changed in the curse, but there was this peculiar storm in the Sunrise Isles, and following it… the girls’ corpses have all been found burnt to a crisp. One after the other.
It’s insane that Mystryal hasn’t noticed yet. This is the kind of thing that gets them investigating. So Where The Fuck Are They!? The only thing I can figure is that this curse is keeping them blinded to whatever is causing the girls to burn up. And why burning?? What the hell provoked a sudden fit of spontaneous combustion in these girls?? I certainly never wove anything related to fire into the Curse Runes. Is this a result of the tampering caused by Kaven Dish to turn the flute into a key? Did the metal reforging cause something in the magic to warp???
This is just too much.
Tomorrow, Mike dies, and hopefully this curse gets broken with his death. Regardless of whether it works or not… Once Mike is dead, we find the Trumpet. Our sources in the Guild say that the Key to the City is being held in one of the banks somewhere in the Jaw’s Tusk chain. (Probably one nearby where Mike lives. It shouldn’t take too long to hunt it down and destroy it… and if Kaven Dish has it…? Well… that’s all the better for me and Karah, but…
Either way, I can’t allow this farce to go any further.
-The Rabbit of Vengeance, Bunnie, A.K.A. Tammy Sayaka