Yeah, drop the note in the mail slot and leave quietly.
+1. Be done with this task and get back our real one.
+1
There is nothing more for you here. You scribble down what the PI told you on the piece of paper, fold it, and drop it through the mail slot. There's some kind of charm or ward on the door, but it does not even 'see' you. The employer will have to draw his own conclusions of what happened to the man. For you, it is time to get back to work.
Last Wishes: +5XP***
It does not take long for you to feel the pull. You let yourself be drawn into the Stream and find your way to the soul calling you. There is always another mess to clean, another poor sod in an ugly situation. There are Guides who only come for gentle, peaceful deaths - you are certainly not one of them.
You come into the world to be assaulted by wailing wind and cold rain. Before you, black sea meets land, waves crashing against bare rocks in the shadow of towering cragged cliffs. There's little vegetation to see; sea birds shine with their absence. The soul you have come for has just breathed its last on the rocks, half-submerged in the water.
He is a grisly sight, it soon appears. His flesh is pale and drawn tight over his bones, as if sucked dry. There's a hole in his chest, his ribcage blown open with considerable force from the inside. His clothes are battered and torn anyway, perhaps from being adrift at sea - he looks to be a sailor, perhaps the victim of a shipwreck. That didn't kill him, though.
Something crawled out from inside him, tearing its way through his torso on its way out. Blood and fragments of bone lay splattered on the smooth stone around him.
The soul stands up with wavering feet, staring first at his body, then you. He takes a frightened step back at first, but a second later his features harden and a flash of red passes through his body.
'I've... I've been waiting for weeks! Weeks, in agony! Begging, begging for death to come. Begging for the deep to take me. Weeks, with that thing growing inside me,' the sailor shouts out. His voice is a weakened hiss, low but piercing. 'I thought it would never end... I thought the gods had left me to my fate. Lights below, why didn't you make it end?'
He shudders, hands balling into fists. He looks towards the sea, as if expecting to see something in the endless black waves.
>?---
@Stat rolls: The first number after the skill name is the difficulty you need to pass. The '1' there is your roll, and the '+2' your stat bonus (as your Intellect is 2). You basically cannot fail difficulties below 4 without being weakened by something. It's very simple as systems go.
Author
Topic: Psychopompos (Read 16920 times)