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Completed Stygian : The Reign of the Small Font

RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
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28,396
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
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01 - Kalin Ibrahim
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The dream is a clue. It must be.

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I retrieved my meager possessions from the nearby trunk and counted my cigs.

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Only two hundred sticks left. Enough for five more days of stay at the Old Eel's. I loaded my revolver, donned my trench coat and hat.

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Good morning, cornuto. If you can call this never-ending fucking twilight morning... What was all that hurly-burly upstairs? Bad dreams?
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You could say that.
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Why am I not surprised? I recommend hitting the bottle before going to sleep. Makes things easier.
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(Speechcraft) But I don't see any bruises on myself, and if I'm unhurt I must've paid the bill.

He seems dispirited by the argument.

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I'm not in the mood for a pissing contest. I'll have all your cigs eventually. Later, cornuto.

Can't trust that snake.

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I'll hold off from buying anything for now. But one item caught my interest.

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I decided to purchase it for 6 cigs.

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Fascinating read. But is any of it true? By the way, Marino.
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What is it, cornuto?
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Why do you call me cornuto?
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Uh, forget about it. You remind of a guy. He's a cornuto, that's it.
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But what is a cornuto?
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Cornuto is... someone who has horns, you know. If a wife is unfaithful to the husband, that makes the husband a cornuto, all right?

A devil cuck? I don't get it.

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What does this have got to do with me?
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When I was the bartender of Isola, a small Italian bar in Chichago, a man used to come in there every evening. Every single day.
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He didn't drink, he didn't seem to have any fun, he just kept looking at the patrons silently. Looking for someone...
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Then after almost a year, I finally learned his story. He was searching for the man who fucked his wife. He came to that bar every day, staring silently...Just like you.
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You're waiting for someone. You don't pursue whatever fucked up life you can have in this shitty town. Instead you act like that cornuto. Forgive me if I put it bluntly, but who fucked you over, my friend?
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I'm waiting for someone, true, but it's not as simple as that.
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Like I care. Anything else? A drink perhaps?
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Not yet. Tell me, what's the story of the Old Eel?
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Do I seem like the chatty type of bartender, cornuto? They say an old drunk opened the place after a dream or something 40 years ago. Satisfied?
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There's only one story you should know about this establishment now: Wax Face owns the place, Marino runs the place. Happily ever after.
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Tell me about this Wax Face.
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Not a smart question at all, cornuto. Just remember that he is the king on this side of the Miskatonic. He's the boss of the Mob, the Unseen Imperatore.
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He's the person whom you should keep your mouth shut when his name comes to mind.
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What's the Mob doing in a remote New England town?
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(Psychology) Hmm, I'll wait till the alcohol loosen him up.

As hours pass, Marino becomes more loud and boastful. It seems he has reached the tipping point and might let something interesting slip.

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What was the thing about the Mob, Marino? Coming to Arkham and all?
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Shut up, you fool! Not so loud. You've heard that I was a key player in that business, yes?

He starts to whisper.

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The Cortellini family of Chicago was looking for a safe route to transport the liquor they smuggle from overseas. European whiskey, Cuban Gin, all sorts of booze.
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Let's say with the help of a good adviser, a cousin of Diego Rossi, they were persuaded to use the MIskatonic River for the operation. Actually cornuto, it was me who gave them the idea. Always had a nose for profit, see.
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What happened then?
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The Cortellinis sent some of their best men along with some cannon fodders to oversee the operation. And right after the ships arrived from Kingsport with the moonshine, the fucking Black Day happened.
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The Mob got stuck here. Imagine big city gangsters in an old, quiet-as-shit New England town. It's like wolves trapped in a fucking slaughter house. The rest is... natural selection.
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Sounds more like oppressing the weak to me.

Sanity gained: 2 (Humanistic)

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This conversation never happened, cornuto. Do not forget the clock tower and the plucked chicken.
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Alright, good bye.
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Later cornuto, I hope you find whoever fucked your wife.
 
Last edited:

RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
Patron
Joined
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Messages
28,396
Location
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
02 - Sanity Check
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Care for a game of cricket? You don't get a chance to play against the world champion everyday.
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A world champion? You?
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Of course! Surprised? Don't you have any clue of what happened to the rest of the world? KNOCK KNOCK, anybody there? NO ONE? Ehh, good riddance!

He throws a dart.

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Earth was a big pain in the butt anyway! Here, there is only one champion: Hershel, the master of darts!

He throws another dart at the board.

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Ready for the game?
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Is there a prize?
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Prize? Nothing can come close to the thrill of darts. Tobacco? Rubbish! But feeling the texture of the stem in your hand, the steel points savagely p-penetrating the board, it's priceless!
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Yeah, okay pal. And the prize?
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You want cigarettes? Beat me then! Beat the world champ and you'll have more cigs than you'll ever want! You see, I was a traveling salesman for Tom Rogers cigarettes. Before I found my true self and became the champion! Damn those days! 'Hershel, go to Maine. Go to Boston, Hershel. Hershel, your sales performance is poor! We're disappointed, Hershel!'
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(Agility) Alright, enough. Let's play.
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Now you're talking!

He starts explaining the rules of the game with a lot of enthusiasm and then we started playing.

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C-cheater...
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I didn't cheat.
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Cheater!
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Oh, come on. Mass tacs is a valid strat.
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CHEATER! CHEATER! CHEATER! CHEATER! CHEATER!

With each repetition, his speech starts to sound less and less rational, until it turns into a frenzied howl.

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Ouch! That hurt...damn. He's gone. But...
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Poor guy. Being the champ must've been the only thing keeping his sanity in check.
Time for me to leave as well.

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RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
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Messages
28,396
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
03 - Arkham
It's hard to ignore that massive monument just across the street. It looks like an effigy of some sort.
I decided to ask one of the locals about it.

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Excuse me, madam. What is that grotesque monument over there?
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The Cult erected it in place of the old Lincoln statue. "Grandfather Altar" they call it. Damned atrocity.
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What can you tell me about the Cultists?
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The cultists come from across the river to sacrifice people who've been marked by the Mob as blood offerings to Grandfather Kuh-thoo-lu.
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The Mob marks people?
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Shhhh! If you get on the Mob's bad side, you'll get marked, and every so often the Cult will come and take you away. If it happens, you're better off putting a bullet into your head.
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No one deserves such a death. The cries of the sacrificed, I can still hear them. Now if you'll excuse me.
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Wait. Can you tell me more about the Cult?
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Mad fanatics who devoted themselves to Kuh-thoo-lu. They rule the ruins of North Arkham, across the Miskatonic River. They often come to this side of the river either to find new blood for their ranks, or new victims to be sacrificed.
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How can I get to the other side of the river? Is it possible to swim across?
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Madness. I don't recommend it. There are things lurking in the water. Only the Cult can cross the river at will, but I have no idea how. Sometimes you can see their boats on the Miskatonic, all painted red, crimson omens of doom.
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What about the Mob?

She looks around in fear.

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They're the law.
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Madam, fear is the real enemy. If we stand together, we still have a chance.

Sanity gained: 2 (Humanistic)

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Betsy Ross said the same thing. I bet the Ghouls are tearing her body apart somewhere.
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What happened to this Betsy Ross?
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They shot her in the head. End of story. Evil wins out in this place, sooner or later.
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What do you know about the Black Day?
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Nothing more than you, I guess. We had all seen the signs, right? People having the same nightmares, the mysterious disappearances, whole families massacred. We saw it coming but pretended everything is fine.
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The Black Day started with that apocalyptic roar, piercing deep into our minds. The sky melting. Colors fading. I can't remember anything else.

Tears well up in her eyes.

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When we came to our senses, Arkham lay beneath an alien sky, banished from our home forever. We are alone, all alone in this purgatory, left to the mercy of tyrants and deviants!
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Such hopelessness. This town's spirit is broken and distorted. Just like that statue.
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I must not linger. I must journey onward.
 

RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
Patron
Joined
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Messages
28,396
Location
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
04 - Key Number 0
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Relieved, I knelt down and gripped the key tightly.

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I might want to ask one of the locals about it.
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The Schmidt's Antique store is located in French Hill. But first, I think I'll explore this district.

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Gwen, is that you?

He takes a moment to realize I am not who he expected.

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Ah, shoot!
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Are you okay, pal?
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Who's asking? The drill sergeant? Pfft! Go away!
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Sergeant? An interesting guess. Were you in the army?
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What are you, a cop? The last time I checked, the mob burned down the goddamn police station.

He chugs down his drink and spits.

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They won't tolerate a snoop around these parts so up yours, mister.
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Pardon me for saying this, but you don't look well.
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I don't need no help! I'm well aware of what Richter's dope does to a healthy person. Do I look like I give a damn? Hm! Speaking of Richter...

Mentioning the pharmacist's name seems to have given him an idea.

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What of him?
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Maybe you could bring me a shot of his morphine, if you insist on bantering with this pathetic waste of a soldier.
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(Speechcraft) With my contacts, I can supply all kinds of dope, enough to last you a lifetime, but first tell me what happened to you.
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Ah...what the hell. I lost everything anyway, might as well lose a few minutes to a story. The name's Jeremy Parsons.

He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.

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It all began after I met Gwen Robin, my former... Pfft, you know. Being a poor cobbler's son, I was obligated to put bread on the table and that's why I joined the Guard for the extra pay check.
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Hailing from an even poorer Arkham family, Gwen was working as a wireless operator at the base. Boy, phew, she had it all. Blonde, nice figure. Oh how I miss our little escapades.
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But everything went to hell when she had to quit her job due to some family issue back home. I was shaken, but had to continue with my training.
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Then apocalypse came! The National Guard was called to active duty. I was stuck being a full time soldier. As I was struggling to deal with it, Gwen's last letter proved to be the final blow. She said we had to break up, that she couldn't see me ever again.
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I couldn't accept it and smuggled myself into a logistics truck bound to Arkham. I wanted to see her again!
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Humans are social creatures. The lonelier we are, the more desperate we get.

Sanity gained: 2

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If that was meant to comfort me, then thank you Sir. But I believe that I have failed my duty as a soldier. I'm a deserter.
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So you went to Arkham? Did you find her?
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After arriving in Arkham, I headed straight to her address. But there was nobody in the house. Even their coffee cups were on the table, but they were gone. It's as if the inhabitants vanished!
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I lost track of her since, I asked around, but was only met with hostility and apathy.
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Don't give up. There's always hope.

Sanity gained: 2

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You seem like a good man. Here. Take this.

He hands me a picture of a blonde woman.

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This is Gwen. Please ask around. Maybe you can do a better job than I did.
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Sure, I'll do my best. Goodbye, Jeremy.
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It's unlikely that she's still alive. But still, who knows?

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It's time to head to the Antique Store.
 

RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
Patron
Joined
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Messages
28,396
Location
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
05 - Pure chance
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Hola, senor. Please forgive my interrupcion but I've been seeing you at the Old Eel and wanted to presentarme.
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Who are you?
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I am called Eduardo. Eduardo Carnela to be exact, but there is nothing special about my apellido. I am just a son of another poor fisherman from Cojimar.
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Yet I carried the Carnela name to this far part of the world. Now all that remains is our past, no?
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You may be right. I am Kalin Ibrahim.

There is a crackle of energy in Eduardo's eyes as he firmly shakes my hand.

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A pleasure to meet you, senor.
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Now that we are introduced, are you here for something?
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I have a sensacion that you may need my services. Different from you, I am accustomed to this survival in the streets, the never ending sobreviviente.
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I survived the Spaniards, then American occupation, then civil war, then the American again. No hard feelings though.
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But you see my point now. I know what to do when things get, what do you say, hot. I can be the difference between life and Santa Muerte.
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I see. A mercenary. What do you want in return?
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Two dozen cigs for each day I protect you. I don't care if you're fighting monsters, or the mob, or El Diablo himself.
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(Speechcraft) I will have work for you in the near future, but you have to give me a better price.
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Bien... You are a survivor like me senor. 23 cigs for a day then.
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I'll think about it. You have no fear at all, huh?
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Why should I? I have survived by chance all my life, and now I do just the same. We all do... but you were not aware of this before la Catastrofe.
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A swordfish killed mi padre. One day he never came home from work. Eso es! Like that! You see, we live by chance alone, but it is when we are out of luck that it becomes plain.
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I will play the same game, senor, until la Diosa Fortuna betrays me.
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Well... I have no need for your service at the moment. Where can I meet you?
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I'll be at the Old Eel if you change your mind. Adios.

He could be a useful ally. But I don't think I'm heading into a fight any time soon.

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Further ahead is the French Hill, where the Antique Shop resides.

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RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
Patron
Joined
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Messages
28,396
Location
Not Here
Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
06 - The Collector
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That's a very nice collection of keys you have.
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Thank you. I have put my life into this collection, though it is unfortunately incomplete...

His eyes betray a sense of deep longing as he reviews his rows of keys.

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Why the interest in keys?
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I have always been fascinated by keys. I started collecting them in my childhood. It was simply a hobby of course, until the Black Day.
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What changed after the Black Day?
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It's not important. Just remember that I will pay handsomely for keys.
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I'll feel better knowing why you want them so badly.
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Very well. After the Black Day, like many others, I lost all hope. With no reason to go on, I decided to end it.
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For days I fasted and prayed for Hashem's forgiveness, determined to end this misery of an existence.
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I passed out from hunger and exhaustion, and then I dreamed of two keys: One was gold and burning, though it was only warm to the touch.
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The other was silver and bathed in moonlight.
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What do they signify? Do you think they are real keys?
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They were the keys to the Temple of Solomon! I felt the Light inside me. Oh Hashem... He spoke to me.

The old man's eyes widen and lose their focus, as if he were in a trance.

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That is why I have been collecting keys all my life. They are my escape from this... Sheol. They were my test, and they will be my salvation.
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How can a bunch of keys help you escape?
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There is a hidden power in patterns and numbers. Some of the keys are numbered. This makes them special. I think I've said enough. So tell me, how may I assist you?
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Tell me about your store.
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This is Schmidt's Antiques, or what's left of it. And I am Isidore Schmidt. Like the merchandise, I have been gathering dust here for a good long while.
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I am Kalin Ibrahim. May I see your wares?
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Of course, that is why I am here. But first tell me, how do you intend to pay?
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Cigarettes?
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I have no interest in hoarding them, nor do I smoke them myself. I'm old enough to value breathing too much.
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How peculiar. Well. Do you want the old currency?
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My advice to you, sir, is to keep those in the restroom, where it may be of some use.
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Well then, what did you have in mind?
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Keys, I collect them, you see, all sizes and shapes. If you happen to come across any keys in this accursed place, bring them to me.
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I will gladly trade my collection of exquisite items for keys. Or if you wish, I can pay you in cigarettes.
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Hang on. If you also accept cigs in trade it would also allow you to obtain more keys, wouldn't it?
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Not necessarily. I have all the Cigs I need.
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(Speechcraft) What if I were to bring you a special key worth more than everything you have here?
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Hm...very well. I see your point. I will accept cigs as payment, but only from you.
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You've made the right choice. Take a look at this key I have.

Greed immediately flashes in the old man's eyes. He hastily checks his notebook on the counter.

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It's numbered 0? Oh, how interesting. Where did you get such a rare one?
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From a mysterious man, hinted at in a dream. It's a long story.
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Some dreams indeed hold value. What can I offer you for that key my friend? It will be a fine addition to my collection here.
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You seem to hold a great deal of knowledge of the key. Would you mind telling me that first?
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Forgive me but I don't trust people easily. This particular habit also helped me tremendously in staying alive. I offer you five hundred cigs for that key. Do you accept?
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No. I-
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700. That's my final offer.
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You don't give up, do you?
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A thousand. Right now.
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Mr. Schmidt, losing this key will put everything in jeopardy. You won't change my mind, sorry. I came here for information on the key. Not to sell it.
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If you're not selling the key to me, I'm afraid our conversation is over.
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What if I pay you for the information?
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Hm. That is very tempting but...

He pauses for a while. Eyes still fixated at the key.

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If you give me your word to give the key to me after you're done with it, this may start to look like a deal.
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That sounds agreeable. Very well. I promise.
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Well then. Fifty cigs and your word to bring me the key. Is it a deal?
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(Speechcraft) You're reaping a lot of benefit from this deal anyway. Can you not lower the amount a bit?
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Fine, 49 cigs then. Be quick or I'll change my mind.
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(You goddamn Jew.) Fine. Here you go.

I counted and lay the bundle of cigarettes on the counter. Isidore counted every single stick. He even made sure to pick it up and peer at their insides with his eyes.

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Excellent. I'll be waiting for the key, Mr. Ibrahim. Now, for my part... that key fits one of the safe deposit boxes in the Bank of Arkham. I wasn't aware of the existence of one labeled zero though.
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Where is the Bank of Arkham?
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We are indeed in a prison. Thank you. I'll go and check the place.
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RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
Patron
Joined
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Messages
28,396
Location
Not Here
Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
07 - The French Hill
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It's not hard to see that beneath his ridiculous posturing, something is deeply wrong. The man's weary visage shows he's been at this for a long while and the exertion of staying in character is wearing him down.

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Are all right, Justin?

He reacts with comic surprise. His startled eyes show nothing but the shallow character he is portraying.

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(Psychology) Hmm, I should observe him.

As I watch him continue his bizarre show at the expense of his dwindling physical health, patterns of self-punishment are revealed. A deep sense of guilt may have triggered this malady.

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Hey, can you tell me your name?

He shrugs theatrically and begins another of his vulgar sketches. I'm no longer sure whether this is a performance or the sole mode of existence for this bizarre fellow.

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Maybe I should ask the guy next to him.

A revolting smell attacks my nostrils as I approach the homeless man, as if some small animal had died under his stained clothes.

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Who is that man with paint all over his face?
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Oh, don't you know Coaly Willie? I thought everybody knew Coaly! You know he has movies, theatrical performances. He was a real celebrity, you know. Not Coaly Willie but the fella himself, Sam Rodney.
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Never found him funny myself. In better days a friend took me to one of his shows. Making all that money scoffing at black folks. The Black Day came for all of us in the end, innit? White, yellow, black, everybody.
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(Sweden) You're right. It is shameful to call discrimination a performance.

Sanity gained: 2

The hobo looks at the theatrics of the nearby 'actor'.

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Well, he can perform as much as he likes now, mister.
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You mean he's still putting on a show?
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Uh, I dunno if I'd call it a show anymore, mister. I've been hanging around with him for a while now and never became Sam Rodney again, not even once. I guess he's flat out Coaly Willie now.
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I think he's punishing himself to death by continuing this act. Somehow.
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Really? That's sad cause he's the only person who can stand me.
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Who is he performing for? You?
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Some Mob fellas used to come and see him now and then. Not anymore. Watching the same thing over and over got boring probably. And other folks don't like to go anywhere near him. Probably find him creepy. Can't blame them.
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I see... well. I need to go. Bye.

Sam Rodney. What a strange man. Mayhap a crack on his sanity. The Black Day can cause a lot of things.

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Excuse me sir. A question if I may?
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I'm listening, Madam.
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I'm looking for my husband. A slender, long faced gentleman from Boston. His name is Randolph Carter. All I know is that he arrived in Arkham. Do you know him or his whereabouts?
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Forgive me, I don't.
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I see. Thank you, sir. I better continue my search.
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Perhaps I can help you in your search?
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I'm sorry but I should be looking for him. Good bye.

I heard his name from somewhere, but I don't think I've ever met the man himself. How odd.

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And that wraps up French Hill. It's time to make my way to the Bank of Arkham.
 

RK47

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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
08 - The Victims
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Leave him alone!

The crowd turns towards me with a mix of fear and hatred in their eyes. One of them shouts:
'Are you in league with this, this demon? Don't you see what its kind has brought upon us?'

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Look at what you've become. Do you think we've returned to the Dark Ages?
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(Speechcraft) Can you do the same to the Mob? Aren't they your real oppressors?

Uncertain looks are exchanged among the crowd.

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I just wanted to -
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Why did you intervene on my behalf?
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No one should pay such a price simply for looking different.

Sanity gained: 2

I can feel the creature examining me from head to toe. The burning amber eyes move rapidly with the effort to comprehend.

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Are you not human? Is this a disguise?
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It's not. I am human.

The creature is clearly still puzzled.

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For whatever reason you aided me, know that I am incapable of helping my own self. Leave me be, that I may continue to search for that accursed man.
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The accursed man? Tell me about him.
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This man in black...with no face. The man with the cane of bones. The ghostly tapping of his stick still rings in my ears.

I was stunned by this matching description. Could it be?

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You mean the Dismal Man?
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A fitting name. Do you know him?
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I too am searching for him.
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Then you are doomed as I am, stranger. In my bones, I know that no good would ever come from finding him, yet I have no other choice but to find him. His countenance was the last thing I saw before finding myself in this purgatory.
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Where did you last see him?
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Somewhere far away. So far, so distant now... Damn the day I left my castle! Damn me for leaving my dreary chambers and the twilight droves and the companionship of my books! Damn me!
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You live in a Castle?
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The past is best left alone. It often brings pain and seldom joy, and when it does, the longing of that joy twists it once more to pain.
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How did you come to Arkham?
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I betrayed everything. The timeless peace that the lone centuries granted me! My own existence! I do not know how I came here but I know why: this is my punishment.
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Perhaps we could look for this man together.

The creature is silent for a moment.

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Perhaps it is no coincidence. Very well. I shall walk with you for a time.
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Good. What is your name, friend?
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I... I don't remember, I am unsure if I ever had one. But I know one thing, wherever the fates toss me, I remain the "outsider."
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I am Kalin Ibrahim. And know that whoever you are, it is a pleasure to meet you.

The creature says no more and follows in my footsteps, from a distance away.
I simply nodded in understanding and resume my walk towards the Bank of Arkham at Main Street.

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His vigilant eyes quickly scan the premises and when he finally feels secure, he addresses me in a timid but needy fashion.

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Forgive me if I startled you, sir. I'm Cornelius Moretti.
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I have a proposal from which we can both benefit. Pardon my abruptness, but it will only take a minute of your time.
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Tell me about it.

He gazes momentarily at the bouncers standing near the Old Eel House.

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I had seen you go up to the Old Eel attic before I got ejected by those ignoble swab. You might be just the man who can help me.
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How so?
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It was just another miserable day at the joint when I, partly encouraged by the devil's juice no doubt, finally spoke what had been on my mind for a long time.

His anger suddenly takes precedence over his nervousness.

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I called him out, that tyrannical devil's seed called Wax Face! I denounced him as the False Sheperd he really is. Nobody said a thing of course... cowards.
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There was, is, and will ever be only one shepherd of men! For saying that, they expelled me, humiliated me, and worst of all, they marked me! Tis' a death sentence, you understand?
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What does being Marked entail?

Hearing the word, a surge of misgiving darkens his visage.

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Now is not the time nor place, and besides, you're better off not knowing what it is.
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(Psychology) Look, you seem really agitated. Try talking about what's bothering you. It might help in easing your mind.

He ponders the advice and eventually concedes the point.

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First they ban you from Mob premises, and then the whole town starts to shun you lest they get Marked too!
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And then- they'll take you and turn you over to the Cult, wherever you are! There's no hiding from it. Oh Jesus, please help me!

The Mob owns the Drug store, the Pawn Shop, and the Old Eel House. Denied of these facilities, the Marked ones will have to fend for themselves on the streets. It'd be almost impossible to eke out a living in that kind of condition.

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All right. I understand your plight now. What do you need from me?
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Well, sir, all I'm asking is that you retrieve my heirloom - a pocket watch from the Old Eel attic. It's a valuable piece, from my late father. I stashed it there, having an inkling that might need it in the dark days ahead.
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It's hidden under a floorboard next to the mattress. I need it more than ever, for I'm left with nothing else. Once I barter it off we'll split the cigs halfway. Please... please... will you do this for me, sir?
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I will. No one should be condemned to such despair merely for expressing their convictions.

Sanity gained: 2

A shimmer of mirth appears in his eyes.

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Oh THANK YOU! Brother, thank you! It's encouraging to finally meet someone in Arkham whose heart isn't made of stone.
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And I renounce my share. You need it more than I do.
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Oh, heavenly brother, may God bless you. I had almost lost hope that such good people still existed in this town. I am eternally grateful.

He casts one final glance at his surroundings.

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I'll be near the desecrated church in French Hill. I'll be safe there, it's abandoned. Now I must go, before they come for me. Please hurry sir. My life depends on it.

He scurries away into the night. Realizing the urgency of his plight, I decided to not delay and immediately entered the Old Eel House to retrieve the poor man's heirloom.
 

RK47

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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
09 - The Old Man
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I get it, I get it. Cut it out, I said! Dawkins, I tell you one last time, if I ever hear your bloody voice again I'll break your damned pisspot of a bottle! Do ye hear me?! All of you!

The old man suddenly turns to me.

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You're early cabin boy. Good. Sit down and drink some ale with me.
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Excuse me, who are you talking to? What's in the bag?
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You mean in my bag here? No one of importance to ye, just the low life scum of the sea. Noden's lot, like me.

He hears something from the bag which upsets him.

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How dare you! You hornswoggling bastard!
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Nodens?
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"And upon dolphins' backs, on a vast calendar, shell wherein rode the grey Nodens, Lord of the Great Abyss..." You'll learn more about him in your time on deck, cabin boy.
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You may even serve the needs of the God of the Great Deep, like I do. Nodens is not like those cold, tyrannical, unfeeling gods that rule this realm now. He finds purpose in mortals, although rarely... Shut yer trap, Peters!
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Look, I think you've mistaken me for someone else. I'm no cabin boy.
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Have I? Or perhaps we're all in a ship, in a damned ship sailin' through the black, forsaken waters, eh? And that may make you a cabin boy, all right.

He turns towards his bag. Hurling another insult at it before turning back to me.

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Uh, yes, the ship. Can its name be Arkham?

He smiles a toothless smile.

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Uh, right. (Another nut case.)

He resumes his dialog with the bag again.

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Long Tom, just when I'd thought you came to your bloody senses... No, I'll be sitting here drinking my ale, or whatever this horsepiss is!

He turns back to me again.

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Did you say something, cabin boy?
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Nothing, I was just leaving. Good bye.

A sudden vigilance burns in the old man's eyes.

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Tell me then cabin boy, before you leave, why do ye follow the man who sails the whirlpools of reality?

How does he know?

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You mean the Dismal Man?
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Dismal? Yes, that's bloody fitting. Now answer the question, cabin boy.

His voice has taken on a cold and intimidating tone.

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Because I believe he has answers to this mystery.
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Perhaps he does. But ask yourself if those answers will actually make you feel better or worse than before?

He suddenly bends down to his bag.

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What? Peters found another one? Good boy. All right, you'll have what you want. When? Whenever I decide to leave this rathole of a tavern of course! No one here is going anywhere.

Now is a good time to leave him.

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RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
10 - The Bank
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Hello, sir! How may I assist you? As you can see, this has been a very busy day. It looks like the Boom has finally come to Arkham. It's nice to see our little town thriving, don't you think?
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I wouldn't say thriving...
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Oh, you don't agree? But we are all free to express our opinions, right? That's what makes this country so, so...

His voice cuts off abruptly and he freezes in panic. He doesn't even blink. He looks almost like a living statue.

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You're really lost, aren't you?
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SOME MEN... ARE ENDOWED BY THEIR CREATOR WITH CERTAIN ALIENABLE RIGHTS!
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Let me help you with your transaction, sir. May I see your credentials please?
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(Hm. I'll play along for now. See where this goes.) Uh.. will this suffice?

I showed him my Detective's License. He instantly grabs the object from my hand.

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Let me see. It says you're... A DESPOILER OF SECRET SINS.
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Here are your documents, sir. I hope they will aid you in the game of MISERY, PISS and SHIT!

He hands me a book and leaps over the counter. Behind him are multiple figures, fast approaching.

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What the-
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RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
11 - Triage
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A new customer, surprising. And just when I thougth I had finally run out of possibilities - I mean, business. You know our numbers aren't growing these days. Now tell old Richter what makes you tick. I rarely disappoint.

Judging from the presence of two burly mobsters, this guy is probably connected to the drug trade in the entirety of Arkham.

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What kind of medicines do you sell, Mr. Richter?
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Ah, the kinds that people really need. Tell me what is absent in your world? Euphoria, relief, self-confidence? If I don't have the remedy already, I can make it in my little laboratory.
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I might be making big purchases from you. Shall we discuss a discount?
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In my business, I rarely need to offer a discount. You can't put a price to happiness, know what I mean?
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(Speechcraft) Anything for sale has its price. Therefore prices should be open for negotiations, no?
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A witty one, aren't you? So be it. We'll see how often you'll visit my shop. But don't expect discounted prices if you just come in here once in a while.
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You won't be disappointed. Show me your stock.
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I can't afford his consumable drugs for now. Best to just rely on the doctor's bag to help healing while resting. The Psychologist pendulum looks handy. I'm thinking of using it to help Sam Rodney out of his trance.

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Resting activity is fully dependent on the participants skills and items they have. They can also read books to recover lost sanity points. But specific book genre only appeals to specific mindsets. E.g a Rational man would love to read a medical journal but would have no compulsion to read porn.

Eduardo is a henchmen therefore he does not count in to the resting participants. But he's always there exclusively for combat purposes.
 

baud

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Septentrion
RPG Wokedex Strap Yourselves In Steve gets a Kidney but I don't even get a tag. Pathfinder: Wrath I helped put crap in Monomyth
A devil cuck? I don't get it.

Funny, in French, a cuck is also someone with horns (well, going by 18-19th century vocabulary), but I don't know where this is coming from. Fun story, there's one marquis, who got cucked by Louis 14, who added horns to his coat of arms.
 

RK47

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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
12 - Dreamland
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Amidst the cimmerian stillness, there stands a forlorn figure; barely present, but inescapably real. He seemed to be walking towards a certain house along the street before stopping to look at me.

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Who are you?
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Me? Well, I am a dreamer, a wanderer perhaps. Just as you are. Why would you be here if you weren't?
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Is this... a dream?
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In all likelihood, yes. But what if it's actually a nightmare instead?

He glances away.

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But the real question revolves around you doesn't it? Perhaps you've been compelled to seek a memory which isn't yours at all.

His eyes darken.

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You emanate a tragic aura, source of which is most dire.
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What about you? What do you seek?

A brief pause and his definitive answer cuts right through.

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Inspiration. Know this wanderer. There will be a price to pay when you have no option but to cling to visions brim with unutterable horrors in order to procure your only means of subsistence, however maddening they may be.
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That sounds poetic. Are you an artist perhaps?
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I won't grant an answer that easily. Knowledge of someone is a powerful thing and this premise applies even in dreams. But I'll offer you a chance since you've intruded my phantasy. I'll tell you of my journeys and you will tell me who I am.
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Refraining from the pageantry of the mundane / A boy shall wander into the path of prophecy
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Nebulous is the truth of all things future and past / Dwelling beyond the serpent's lair for none but for him to see
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Only the forbidden he shall thereafter seek / Lurking in the labyrinths so forgotten and forlorn
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Plagued will be those upon whom he shall touch / Hailed by the oblivion which they have forborne
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Carried away to his phantasy on wings ethereal / A toilsome quest he shall embark upon so sedulously
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Resplendence of his dreams however is not to remain / Thus the search for the Silver Key must begin duly
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Exalted he will be in the deathless continuum, wild and free / Resigning from the world to embrace all that was and will ever be
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Answer me then wanderer, who am I?

(Investigation) I examine him closely to deduce certain facts about him.

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Your hand have seen no hard labour. Rather tenuous, but not veiny.

A faint smile appears on his visage.

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Obtuseness on the tips of fingers... Typewriter?

His smile widens, almost turning into a smirk.

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It's most likely that you're an author.

He claps gently in admiration.

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Well well, you've been keeping your eyes busy I reckon.
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Apparel indicates nobility. The abrasion marks however...

He arches his eyebrows in suspense.

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Perhaps worn for a long time with no means to replace them. Which hints that your financial situation could be worse than you'd like to show for.

He nods solemnly and puts on a thin smile.

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You may not have solved my riddle, but instead you did better; You solved me, or a discernible part of me at least...
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You seem to be endowed with the proper traits to guide you in the Dreamlands.
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My name is Randolph Carter. Now if you excuse me, I must cover a long way to eternity.
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Randolph Carter? I met your wife, she's looking for you in Arkham.
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RK47

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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
13 - Breaking into the Bank
With our wounds mostly treated we resume our exploration into the Bank of Arkham.
Pistol and wrench in hand, I ordered the group to begin our attack.

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Yet another curious note by the Bank Manager and his mysterious visitor.

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RK47

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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
14 - Claiming the Prizes
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Ugh. I have no idea. The halls of wisdom... could it be the Meskatonic University? But the entrance is sealed with rubble.

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Be my guest.

The Outsider takes the manuscript as delicately as his claw-like hands will allow and reads it carefully.

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What do you think is the scavenger of the seas?
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A sea monster of some kind? I've read about all kinds of sea beasts in my dusty tomes, Gargantuan devils that can sink galleons with their feelers. Hunters of the dark waters, with razor sharp teeth.
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What about the bodiless star-farer?
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I know there are celestial beings of great power journeying across the endless blackness. Could it be one of them?
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I know not. What about the drop of swarming chaos? What does it symbolize?
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That is too vague to make a reasonable guess, stranger.
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The poem mentions the book that should not be read. Have you any inkling of such a book?
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That puzzles me. Why should one seek a book that should not be read? Such knowledge is often followed by damnation.
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Where do you suppose we might find such a book?
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The depiction resonates as a tome of the dark arts to me. You best seek out a native who is knowledgeable either in such artifacts or the occult itself to enlighten you further.
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I guess I'll talk to Isidore and see if he has any clue.
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RK47

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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
15 - Escape
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A tipsy, talkative blonde man leans against the bar. His reddish eyes roam the room as if searching for someone.

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Sorry to bother you, sir, but may I ask a question?
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Go on.
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I see you've just arrived at Marino's fine establishment, and I was curious whether you happened to see a rustic looking fellow hanging around outside?
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No, I didn't.
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You didn't? Good. I must have been imagining his primitive gaze upon my back.
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I'm Kalin Ibrahim. And you are?
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Stanley Fredkin. I used to be a lecturer in the Literature Department at the Miskatonic, before committing wholly to my true intellectual passion, the study of folklore.
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But we can talk more about me later. In the meantime, may I buy you a drink, sir?
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Sure.

He turns to Marino.

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Some whiskey for this fine gentleman here. And not the usual rotgut you serve, real whiskey if you please.

Marino produces a bottle on the counter and pours a glass for the man. The man then takes a big sip before handing me the bottle.

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Now, what were we talking about?
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Why are you looking for the rustic man?
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I'm afraid he is the one who's looking for me. I've had some minor problems with my current employer. Nothing I can't resolve of course, but I suspect he may have sent that illiterate to find me.
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Who is this employer?
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He is, uh... a foreign investor who is interested in my advice.
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You mentioned the Miskatonic. Did you mean the university on Main Street?
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No, I meant the river! Don't people learn about major water bodies in school these days? Heh, forgive me. Sometimes the sarcastic Stanley takes hold. Yes, I used to work at the University.
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It's no boast to say I was a mighty fine instructor during my time at the university. What a sad day it must be when the students learned that I had chosen the path of the wandering folklorist.
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What have you been studying lately?
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Oh, I see I've aroused your interest! I've been known to have that effect on people. Being an intellectual inspiration and all.
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To answer your question, I've been in Vermont recording the legends of the winged ones of the hills. A very profound topic indeed.
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From Pennacook myths to the legends of Governor Wenthworth's colonial grants, you will find mention of these winged beings from the skies. Whispers of these creatures may be found even in the folklore of the distant Himalayas.
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There must be a reason for these beliefs to be so widespread, right?
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And what do you suspect is the reason?
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There are things I am willing to share for the benefit of the public good, and that isn't one of them.
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Very well. So you study folk tales?
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Not just any folktale. New England folklore, to be specific. I'm sure you've heard of my book, "Kingsport Folk Tales." It was very well received in academic circles, and among more common readers too! You must at least have heard about it, right?

Isn't that...toilet paper?

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Actually, I did.

He looks surprised by that statement.

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You did! Then you are aware of its significance as a pinnacle in cultural studies! Not only for New England, throughout the whole country! Or what's left of it...

That book is certainly interesting. Now that I think about it - I may have seen some of the folktales with my own eyes.

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Mr. Fredkin is there anything you'e not good at?
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Other than the vulgar athletic disciplines? No, I don't believe so. I have always maintained that with a healthy brain, you can achieve anything. Remember these words, sir: always invest in your brain.
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I'll keep that in mind. Good bye Mr. Fredkin and nice to meet you.
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So soon? All right, leave sir, your choice.

He gulps the remaining whiskey down. Plainly annoyed.

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You're no different from the rest.
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I'm sorry?
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Can't you recognize a person of natural quality? Do I have to tell you that out of all these people, all these clueless illiterates, that *I*, Stanley Fredkin, have possibly discovered an escape from this hellhole! *I* was chosen!
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What are you talking about? Escape - from Arkham?

He suddenly came to his senses.

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Uh, nothing. Nothing at all. Damn this vile whiskey of yours, Marino! I... I had better take my leave.

The man hurriedly leaves the Old Eel's.

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Escape? Is it possible?
 

RK47

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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
16 - The Woman in Green
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(Investigation) I managed to get a closer look at the picture and can confirm that the man on it is indeed the same man I saw in my dream.

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Excuse me miss, but I think I've met your husband.
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You have? Please do tell.

Before I could speak, Marino interrupts.

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A signora of high standards such as yourself shouldn't pay attention to a man who can barely pay for my services. Mr. "know it all" here probably wants to squeeze you, that's all.
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It's rude to interrupt, Marino.

Marino ignores me.

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Well, uhm, forgive me signora. Allow me to serve you our finest liquor.

He pours whiskey from a bottle before continuing to talk.

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His face... is very familiar actually, let me look at that picture again.

Marino continues to throw me a mean gaze, but the woman is still waiting for my answer.

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So did you really see my Randolph?
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I saw him recently. In a dream of mine.

She looks perplexed but intrigued.

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Then if I'm to believe you sir, you must provide some details about him.

I described the best I could. Wide chin, thin lips, and the worn silk jacket, green bow tie and vest. Her surprise confirming the accuracy of my description.

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Well yes! Very accurate. He used to wear that for special occasions, just as he did to the journalists' convention where we met. So strange... were you acquainted with him before?
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Never. I don't believe so. We did converse in the dream.
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So what was he doing, or where was he going? Did he tell you anything else apart from his name?

I will never forget his answer.

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Inspiration. He told me that he sought inspiration, whatever that may imply.

She shudders and her eyes become teary.

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Just... just like he wrote in his last letter. Oh,... he's here. He must be alive then! How did he communicate with you? And why you instead of me?
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It all remains a mystery to me as well, Mrs Carter.
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I'm Sonia H. Greene Carter. Thank you for sharing this with me. Mister...?
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My name is Kalin Ibrahim. Nice meeting you as well Sonia.
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Can you help me find him then? There must have been a reason for Randolph to meet you. Would you be so kind to allow me to follow you and guide me to that house he was at?
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Of course, Sonia. I will be glad if I can be of any assistance.
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Oh thank you, but I don't mean to derail you from your obligations, whatever they may be. Are you sure I won't be a drawback?
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Not at all, Sonia.
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That's very courteous of you, Kalin. There's very little kindness left in this world.
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RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
17 - The Immaterial Girl
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I can see that you're glancing towards this direction, sir. Perhaps we could turn this into a conversation? May I offer you a drink?
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Sure, why not?

She pours me a glass of whiskey. I drank it immediately.

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I used to drink before the shoots to calm my nerves. Just the right amount of course. I guess my nerves need it constantly these days.
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Shoots? Are you an actress?
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Oh, forgive me. I'm Clara Bell. Yes, I was an actress. You'd have probably known my name if things had gone right for once in my life. Heard of the movie "Hollow Hearts"?
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I'm afraid not.
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Not a surprise. It was never released. The critics saw it though. I remember one of them, Bill Hunts, approaching me after the special screening, telling me "You've got it, Clara. You are a real star material!"
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No need to add that he was drunk and flirty as a male baboon in mating season. Whatever, later, I had to time to think about what he had said to me, about this star material thing.
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You know. I have an eternity to reflect upon these things. Star material. Why should I be some material after all?
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I agree. No human being can be seen merely as material.

Sanity gained : 2

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I mean, I wanted to be an artist to defeat that notion in the first place! But you have to fit somewhere in their, I mean your world... Be a good wife or be good fun!
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Oh, you're better than that? Be a good investment! All my life I wanted to be there, on the magazines, on the silver screen, all that jazz...
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But you know, sometimes I can't help thinking that this...

She looks towards the gloom of the outside world.

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...may actually be the better alternative. Because I would never have quitted going for the top myself.
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It sounds like you're trying very hard to be optimistic, Clara.
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Good, this means I've achieved something after all. You do know that staying optimistic is a rare feat these days.
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So, what are you up to these days in Arkham?
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Ah, I really wish I knew? It's a mystery to me as well. I was waiting for the release of "Hollow Hearts" at a hotel in LA when Bernie called, my manager. He wanted me to meet a private funder in Arkham.
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So I hastily came to this forsaken place. I couldn't afford refusing such things you know. When I arrived at the train station Bernie was nowhere to be found. He was supposed to meet me there but he never came.
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That's unfortunate. Did you manage to see Bernie later?
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No, never. Everything before the Black Day seems blurry now. Did he really call me that day or was it a dream? Did he ever arrive at Arkham?
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So, what did you do next?
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I was too tired and confused. I decided to wait for Bernie here in Arkham for a few days so I headed to the Essex Hotel. Who could've said that it would be my new home for the rest of my life.

The now Mob-controlled Essex hotel? That's not normal.

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You can still afford staying there? What with the Dollar becoming obsolete and all...
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Let's just say I've met the right people. You know it was never really about the money. Money is just another way to display power. Survive my childhood and you'll know.
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Why? What about your childhood?
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Oh, you're a psychiatrist now? Forget it. Skeletons are better left in the closet.
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I see. Good bye.

Interesting woman. Maybe she has ties with the Mob to afford staying at the Essex. Something to think about. I've had enough of conversation for today. I signal to Marino that I want to make a purchase and flip open my box of cigarettes. It's time to make my way up the attic.

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RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
18 - Taking stock
Once we have rested enough, I take stock of our inventory.

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The Outsider's basic spells come in three types: offensive projectile, a curse, and a self buff.

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On the Scientific side, we have unlocked a blueprint and a formula. Think Arcanum's crafting and you probably got the gist of it.

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And that's it. Before we move out, I showed Sonia the poem I found in the Bank's safe.

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It reflects a devilish mischievousness which reminds me of Randolph's own crypticism that is so abundant in his works. It also seems to be written with a dense ink. Is it... blood?
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I'm not sure. Do you recognize anything in the verses? A place perhaps in Arkham?
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Forgive me., I am a newcomer to Arkham as well.
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That's ok. Well, let's make a move before Marino charges us for overstaying.
 

RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
19 - Sorry End
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Ah, that egotistical man. We'll see.
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The man lies bleeding on the ground, as waves of agony convulse his body. He's not long for this world. He looks up as he heard my footsteps approach.

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You- you've come! Thank the good lord... but my time is up, I'm afraid. Listen to me.
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I'm very sorry, friend. I found your watch. Here.
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The watch.. is of no use to me anymore. I've lived for and about to die for my convictions. But... I don't regret it. I was tired of living like a rat anyway.

He coughs up blood.

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Keep it. But promise me this: You're going to use it for something you believe in.
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I.. I'll do what I can. You have my word.

With his dying breath he struggles to utter his last words, but his broken body has had enough. With a quiver that lasts but a moment, he finally dies.

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Rest in peace, my friend.
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Last edited:

RK47

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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
20 - Need a hand
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I'm afraid it snapped in two when I used it.
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You lie! We had a deal!
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Calm down, Isidore. Here. See it for yourself.

I handed him the other half of the key. The number 0 is still clearly legible. A look of utter dejection fills his face.

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Ah...it's true. Such a waste. I'll have to adjust my notes on the pattern. Why.. please leave me be.
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Forgive me, Isidore, I require another moment of your time. I did retrieve something else from the Bank. This statuette. What do you know of it?

I carefully places it on the counter. Isidore pushes his glasses up over to his eyes and takes a closer look. A lack of enthusiasm apparent in his eyes. This is no key. It will not bring him one step closer to his salvation.

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It looks like a rendition of one of the deities that the Cult worships.
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Oh? Which one? Do you have its name?
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No...but I've seen a crude totem similar to this one on Riverside. The art style is peculiar though. I cannot attribute it to any culture I know of, and I cannot say that I enjoy its presence.
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The Riverside? Are you talking about that Grandfather Statue?

Isidore ignores my question and starts waving away the statuette.

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Take it away, sir. I don't want anything related to that bloody cult in my shop.
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Alright then. By the way, I may have some keys for trade.

His eyes lit up immediately as I drop a bunch of keys I collected from the Bank onto the counter.

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Nice. Very nice. I'll take them. No one else will. Let me remind you that. What would you like for them? Cigs? Or in exchange for one of my antiques perhaps?

It's hard to tell what artifact to trade for. There's a phylactery containing a blood of the saint, claiming to protect its owner from bleeding. Glasses that helps one in studying the occult. While a pendulum claims to possess the power to read minds. And a curious pouch that enhances the owner's trading profits.

After a lot of thinking I decided upon something else entirely.

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In the end, I parted with the dead man's valuable heirloom other keepsakes and a bunch of keys. I gingerly placed my purchase into one of my coat pockets. Just to see if anything has changed.

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Nice doing business with you. Come back again when you have more keys.
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Likewise, Isidore. Farewell.

I leave the store, hand gripping my set of lockpicks.

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And maybe I can raid the bank's locked strongboxes.
 

RK47

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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
21 - The Stabber
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What happened here?
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The Stabber has killed again!
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Who?
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The Arkham Stabber! Where have you been living, sir? I think this is the third victim! All butchered, stabbed until they end up like poor Julian here.
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Julian? You know the victim?

He shakes his head.

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Not really. But he's not a bad fellow. Used to stay at the Essex. He didn't deserve such fate. Nobody deserves to die like this.
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Is there anything you can tell me about this Arkham Stabber?
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No one knows who he is. Even the Mob can't catch him. Some says he is a demon, others speculate he is a loonie, of the worst kind.
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How do you know the Stabber is a he?
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I don't! Could be a she! Would only be fair after what those brutes did to all the-

He stopped after realizing he's standing next to the Mob-controlled Essex Hotel.

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Never mind. I better go!
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What did you say?
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Don't you remember anything?
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W-what? I don't remember anything! What did I do?
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You were saying some kind of omen.
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I don't understand. I was just walking towards the Riverside and then...

A sudden thought makes the man shudder and he begins to compulsively rub his palm against his filthy shirt.

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I- I better go before they accuse me of being the Stabber!
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It'd take a high quality blade to accomplish this feat. Could there be multiple assailants?
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Motive doesn't seem to be robbery. Multiple hits could imply defensive wounds, but it doesn't look like the victim had a chance to even defend himself.
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Whoever or whatever attacked it wanted to make sure he's dead. Only lead is the victim's name and his last place of stay is the Essex Hotel. Hmm...what else?
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The symbol drawing may indicate a supernatural nature of the killing. A disturbing episode that was.

I sighed. This town's starting to gnaw away at my sanity. I look up at the two Mobsters casually chatting by the crime scene.

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Uh, Corley, it seems the stabber sent another fella to the big sleep. Should I bring word to the Face?
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You get paid to be this dumb, Marlon? Does this guy look like one of us to you?
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Uh, no Corley.
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Then think about it. Is it really necessary to take this to the Face ourselves? Don't you remember how mad the boss when that gum-shoe Wilkins failed to find that psycho stabber?

The burly one struggles to compute the information.

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Wilkins? You mean that fatso detective whose arm we cut off? The one staying at the Eel?
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See, you can be smart when you need to. Then you must have been there when the boss got hot under the collar after that idiot told the boss that he needed more time to find out who the Stabber is.
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Lemme think... yeah, Corley. The boss got real mad that day. Uh-huh. So do I take the word to him or not?

The other mobster sighs.

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Marlon, sometimes I wish I was a fucking wall, you know. Like that one over there. A simple, unpainted, indifferent brick wall.
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A wall? Why's that Corley?
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So that I could simply be, without needing to comprehend your bullshit, Marlon! Look... I plan not to be around when the boss learns that the stabber is still on a rampage.
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And you better do the same. He's not one of us anyway, so who gives a crap? Let's beat it, Marlon.

He turns to leave, only to notice me standing nearby.

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What the fuck are you looking at, sheep?
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Nothing, I'm just here to check on the murder.
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Mind your own business.
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Excuse my curiosity, but let's say I overheard a few things.
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Oh you did, did you? You know what kind of sheep get cut first? The ones that make too much noise. Now are you one of those sheep? Or are you one of the good sheep, the kind, you know, that live longer?

There's a mixture of intimidation and fear in his speech. I can deduce that he doesn't know anything else about the murder - but what is it that he fears? Ah...I see.

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(Speechcraft) Perhaps I'm a sheep with connections in the right place. If you're smart, I think we can keep this little scene between ourselves.

The mobster weighs me with his eyes before turning to his friend.

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Marlon, throw the sheep ten cigs.
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Me again? But I'm almost broke, Corley! I paid your debts in the last game, remember?
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A small price compared to the one I'm paying to endure your company, Marlon. Now shut up and pay the sheep.

The burly one handed me his cigs.

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Saw nothing, heard nothing.

The mobster comes disturbingly close and looks at me right in the eye.

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If I ever hear about this, I'll make sure you won't be taking pleasure from anything for the rest of your life. Know what I mean?
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Yeah, I think I do. Goodbye.

They fear their Boss more than anything. I guess my next stop would be the Essex. The statue can wait.
 

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