FFM2: Help Wanted Ads

Myth slipped out the open window, landing with only a mild inconvenience after a six story drop. With an easy roll, he was up again and ignoring the possibly bruised or broken ribs under his thick cloak, and briskly headed in the opposite direction of sirens, jumping a fence in the process, and cutting through a couple alleys.

He was going to think better of taking jobs posted on the internet, oh yes. Anonymous payments wired to his account from accounts that didn't exist, asking for him to break into the home of a Senator for Hell's version of a grand council. Elected grand council. Shoved in his side, up against his aching ribs, was a little black book of strange glyphs that would howl like the wind, spitting sand whenever the book was opened.

Really, it was a strange book that he didn't seem to be very comfortable holding very closely. Already, his shoes were filled with sand in an area of cobblestone streets and somewhat maintained brick alleys. Myth wasn't sure when he'd last seen sand, and somehow he was covered in it.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying not to catch any attention. The wind had begun to pick up through the streets. He found that strange - the hell districts existed in what was basically a really big cave - cavern? - thing that he could not name. Gale force winds were the myths of men, of times when hybrids and magical beasts had lived above ground. It sent a shiver down his back.

He cursed roundly. It was bewitched. Someone had hired him to steal a bewitched book of of of something with sand and wind. Myth drew blanks, grasping at metaphorical straws. This was bad, very bad.

The sirens had stopped two blocks ago, and Myth changed direction again. He decided not to turn the book over, payment and services be damned. He needed to get to a changing portal. Myth needed to pay a visit to Reyna, the Djinn a few Sectors over. She would know how to get rid of these curses - or she'd call on the Cayhadi girl with the strange look in her eyes. Either way, Myth may actually be rid of this curse before sand started showing up at even worse places - like his wind pipe.

Myth swallowed roughly, sand already beginning to coat his mouth. He picked up his pace.