((OK. I GOT THIS.))
Getting Things Straight, Part One:
From the Memoirs of Wilberforce Ambrose RopenourishedAnother month brings another group of migrants, readers. New Oceanbridge appears to be the only thing going around here, which is a rather bleak thought, come to think it. The migrants were, with one exception, unremarkable, but that one exception was remarkable enough for all of them.
I didn't recognize the fellow at first, what with him now looking like a ragged old dwarf who had been ground up under a millstone for a decade or so, but after a day or two, I came to realize that the dwarf I was looking at was none other than Remalle! It did help that I overheard him introduce himself as "Remalle", I admit. These things always do.
Here, I saw, was an opportunity. If there was anyone who could explain the fate of Oceanbridge, and our world, it was Remalle. He had been there for the fall, and, quite clearly, had lived through it. He may have been the only one, though I am not surprised. The man is a survivor. I would need to approach him with caution, and tact, of course. Subtlety would be my watchword. After all, it had been some time since our last meeting, and who could tell what had happened in the meantime?
Apart from him, of course.
Our conversation began in the dining hall, and was somewhat brief. In its entirety, it went:
"Remalle, my boy! You crafty old bastard, I knew you'd still be alive! It's me, Wilberforce! Remember, from the old days of-"
His reply interrupted me, and came in the form of a mumbled "Oh dear gods no..." He looked rather wild eyed, and before I could continue my introduction, he had left the room. The man moves quite fast, too. Up from the table and gone, just like that! Fortunately, it's a small fort, and tracking him down shouldn't be much trouble. I may have to enlist some aid, first, however...
((I am getting the story and the fort and everything together in my head. That's what this is about. Trying to make myself less confused. Hopefully it's not too dull.))