All I know is that I know nothing.
I am Robert Raphaël Silvester Ambrosius Costeau!
You can call me Bob
I'm alive, I think.
+1
+1
‘That... that doesn’t give me much to work with. Nice Name, though, I’ll give you that. Well, you’re in Lent. Lent is built at a five-way crossroads, sort of. Kobolds live in the north, they’re the tall Folk with scales, Humans live in the south, They’re the tall folk without scales, Dwarves ,like me, live in the east and west, and Deep Dwarves, Insect-Folk, and a bunch of Others all live down the Graves. The Graves run from the south-eastern Mountains to some mythic ending in the north-west, and if you go to the very bottom of them, you reach the Place called The Underworld; Caves, tunnels, oceans, pits, and who knows what else are all down there, all in constant darkness. There’s other entrances, small caves and whatnot, but The Graves are the biggest. Anyway, there’s a road that follows the Graves on the northern side, starting at the point where the Graves end at Giant’s fall in the south, and continuing to follow The Graves off into the north, further than anyone goes in this day and age. And a few Cities away from Giant’s fall... is Lent.’
He looks exhausted once he finishes. But he keeps going.
‘Even if you don’t want to be, You’re a beggar, or a Vagabond, or Whatever you want to call it. That’s what Society will label You as long as you keep on wearing rags and sleeping above the Soup Kitchens. We do the dirrty Work that no-one else wants; murderers, Spies, Thieves, Blackmailers, even Grave-Divers. But we have rules. We look out for each other, We talk to each other, and we don’t fuck with each other, ‘Cause The World will do that last one for us. Ethan saw an opportunity. If he could get it, he could have skipped Town a rich Man, and he wouldn’t have had to care about Our retribution.’
He takes a drink from a hitherto unseen flask. It smells very, very strongly of alcohol.
‘You keep that thing of Yours close. If,
if it is Magic, that shit’s dangerous. Lots of People know little spells, small things. Spells of protection, spells of defense, I actually know a way to make bandages to seal any wound, though you need a specific pattern and certain kinds of paint. But really Powerful magic is the shit that Kills People. We find Spells by finding what works, slowly and carefully. But you can’t test out a spell of fire slowly and carefully, not without leaving all the actual work to an army of disposable slaves. If anything goes wrong, you’ll be utterly fucked. Probably. You never said what that thing actually Does, so for all I know it could make infinite Cats appear from thin air. I don’t know what else to say except keep your head down, and don’t be surprised when things don’t turn out the way you expect them to. The Soup Kitchens can’t always run, and debt will find you in the end if you wrack it up. Work is always available. And never take more than two bowls of soup a Day per Kitchen, or You’ll end up like Ethan, garaunteed.’
He stops.
‘Fuck... how long have I been talking for? I’m sorry. Tell me if I missed anything really important. And, eh... actually... no, nevermind.
Sunlight is still streaming in. You finished your soup a while back, and you feel pleasently full inside. It’s warm and cosy in Here, all things considered.
Wounds: 1Cloth bag
Metal knife
Kight metal pot
Metal lantern
Firelighter
Fistful of root vegetables: (x1.8 )
Waterskin: Mouthful of water (x10)
Smaller bag: Fistful of flour (x4)
Salt box: Pinch of salt (x?)
Black Spherical Orb
Bedroll
Plate
Author
Topic: Of Ghosts and Whispers: a Suggestion game (Read 30698 times)