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Completed Stygian : The Reign of the Small Font

RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
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Joined
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Messages
28,396
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
22 - The Way Out
Concluding my findings, I decided to ask Sonia for her opinions on the murder. But the look in her eyes stopped me.

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Sonia, I've realized that you haven't eaten anything since I met you. You must be famished.

She sluggishly turns her inattentive gaze to me as if she awoke from a long, deep slumber.

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Well.. I think I lost my appetite. It must be because of my disconcerted thoughts.
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When was the last time you ate anything?

The innocuous questions seems to have taken her off guard.

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Oh, my... Well I don't know, my memory seems to have gone blank.
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Sonia. You should eat something. I have some rations to share.
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No, I'm not hungry at all. Please. I insist. Keep it.
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I can't have you starve to death in front of my very eyes.
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There's no need to assume the duty of my caretaker. I'm well capable of taking care of my own. Thank you for your concern though.
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Fine. You know what's best for you.
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It's life-like...way too lifelike. Using my investigative skills, I run a thorough examination of the 'statue' and come upon the conclusion that this isn't an inanimate object once. I ran my hand through the pockets of the 'statue' and came upon something loose.

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I pocket the pistol quickly and walk over to the counter. Behind the bars is a stern-looking man who looks deeply dissatisfied. Although he looks to be in his sixties, his presence invokes respect and fear.

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What's that wax statue doing over there?
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Ah, you mean Honest Bill? He's dead, but they kept him around for decoration, turned him into a statue. He used to own this place, see? Until he crossed Wax Face.
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Can you guess how they did it? Poured boiling wax over him from head to toe. You should hear the screams...
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Tell me about Wax Face.
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He is... the boss. Not around much these days though. He put me in charge of the pawn shop, so here I am. What a dead end.
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And let me give you some advice: Do not ask about Wax Face if you want to live. Now, you buying?

I look around the store. Rations. Guns. Bullets. Magazines. Clothing. This shop has it all.

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May I know your name, sir?
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Name's Joe Clemence. That's Mr. Clemence's to you. I'm someone you shouldn't be curious about. Former jeweler for the Cortellinis, current fucking grocer of Arkham.
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Who are the Cortellinis?
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You live in a cave or something? The ruling family of Chicago, barons of the underworld.
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Are you from Chicago?
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Such brilliance! How did you ever make the connection?
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Just making small talk. So, how about a discount, Mr. Clemence?
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How about a smack in the face from my friend Charley here?
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(Speechcraft) Mr. Clemence, hear me out. I can bring you a lot of quality goods. I go to places that no one else does.
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Then you sure must be hanging near the arse end of this rotten town. And I don't like it when people stink.
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But... maybe you'll be of some use to me later. There's a place you can visit for me and earn your discount, I'll let you know. Until then, you're just another punk.
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That sounds agreeable.
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Now, you buying or should I ask Charley to make you leave?
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Well, I could use some small, thin strips of metals...
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The exchange completed and I'm back at Main Street pondering my next move. The bank should be good to plunder now. But a look at the house next to the bank reminded me of an appointment.

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His study is cluttered with a wide array of items. The book on the desk is a compilation of rumors about the Pocumtuck Indians of Dunwich and their supposed ceremonial practices. A Himalayan wooden tribal totem depicting a winged, six-legged mythological being decorates the corner of the study. The table is covered with disorganized heaps of cables, gears, electronic receivers, a microphone and an odd glass case. A large map adorn the wall, recording Stanley Fredkin's anecdotes of his travels through Kingsport, Dunwich and Innsmouth, tracing the route he followed prior to his arrival in Arkham.

Stanley is sitting in the dark, looking pale and devoid of his former energy, as annoying as it was. He begins to whisper in a discomforting tone.

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But I am SO close to finding a way out! So close, it is worth testing the limits of this shell of flesh and bone.
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It seems you've solved the situation with the rustic looking man.
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Oh, yes yes. It was a minor nuisance. He serves me well, within his rather limited ability of course.
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Your message claims that you know how to leave this place?
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Precisely. It is past time I leave this filthy nest of apes behind me forever, but as you can see my ill health won't allow me to complete my work.
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I also have serious doubts that my current assistant is resourceful enough to aid me in the last stage of the process.
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I cannot help but notice: what are all these machines on your table? I thought your interest was in folklore?
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Knowledge takes many shapes, my friend. You will learn many things when we are on our way to the stars.
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So you need my help for this journey?
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Yes, help me complete my work and you will accompany me, the only other person privileged to do so. Far away from this whirlpool of primal vibrations.
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Just how are you planning to accomplish that?
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I won't bore you with the technical specifics. Just know that my connections allow me to discover ways beyond the borders of Man's limited science. If you knew what they've taught me about our universe...
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Who are these connections?
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You will meet them when we're ready to leave, don't worry.
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Fine then, tell me what I need to do.
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A few essential parts are needed to complete my research: a longwave radio transmitter, an electrical conductor, and some formaldehyde. These items are the last things standing between us and infinity.
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Where can I find them?
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Unfortunately, you have to do this part on your own. My friend Richter at the Drug Store would be a good place to start. Debauched he may be, but he seems to have the skills to aid us in this final phase.
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Alright. Are you sure you cannot answer my questions before bringing you these parts?
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Unfortunately, my illness dictates that I rest now. We'll talk more later, friend.
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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
23 - Grasping sensations
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So that's one out of three out of the way.

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What the fuck was that?
I quickly checked my pocket and could only deduce the source through the process of elimination. It's the severed hand artifact.
Then it dawned upon me: the shopkeeper is only too happy to advertise its thieving benefits but never mentioned any of its drawbacks.
To discern whatever malady this artifact might have, I must dedicate another occult research session during our rest.
I carefully remove it from my coat pocket for now. There it shall remain until I have need of its power.

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I recovered several valuable pieces of jewelry, a revolver, some gunpowder, ammunition, a holy bible, and a cross.

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RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
Patron
Joined
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Messages
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
24 - Essex Hotel
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I examine the lobby. Aside from the odd loose debris, things are relatively clean. The lights are kept to minimal level to save fuel, a few guests are boozing and smoking at the lounge. The bronze statue's plaque speaks of Nehemiah Crane, Captain of the Perseverance, holding a spyglass overlooking the ongoing debauchery and slow decline of the Essex. A replica of the Perseverance, the merchant vessel stood in one corner of the lobby.

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Welcome to the New World, Captain.

The man behind the counter took notice of me and raises questioning eyebrows.

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Bonjour, monsieur. Under more normal circumstances, I'd be delighted to welcome you to the Essex Hotel, one of New England's preeminent establishments.

He pauses to clear his throat.

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Leaving aside the fact that there is no New England anymore. Mister...
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Kalin Ibrahim. A pleasure to meet you.

He briefly thumbed through the hotel register before glancing back at me.

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Regrettably, I see you are not one of the ladies and gentlemen approved by Monsieur Wax. I may only accommodate citizens who appear on the guest list.
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That is quite understandable. May I have your name, Sir?

He straightens his bow tie.

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I am Etienne Lafayette, the concierge of Hotel Essex. I have proudly performed this duty for more than fifteen years.

A note of heartbreak seeps into his voice as he says it.

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I also had to take on the role of Manager after the unfortunate demise of Monsieur Phillips. And of receptionist. We are a little bit understaffed these days, as you can see.
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Tough. What happened to the previous manager?
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Let's just say he chose the shortest route out of Arkham, monsieur.
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Fascinating. How did he-
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Rat poison. Along with Madame Phillips and the little ones. I do not recommend it.

Ah, arsenic. A small amount isn't going to cut it. They had to consume a LOT of them. Painful way to go.

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Ah. My condolences.
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There were, you know, red bubbles on their lips. Like a poorly blended parfait.

He makes a circular motion around his mouth with his finger to accompany the sentence.

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You seem to take your job very seriously, Etienne.
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Monsieur, do you know what is worse than a town doomed to extinction? A concierge without a hotel. The Essex is my life and unless she kicks me out herself, I do not plan to abandon my responsibility.
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Oh, I meant no disrespect. Say, maybe you can help me with something. It's about a former guest of the Essex, a young man named Julian.

He clears his throat imperiously.

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The privacy of our guests is inviolable, monsieur. I have to admit the accomodation may have taken a slight downturn recently, but definitely not to that level.
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Mr. Lafayette, I can assure you that this is of utmost importance, for Julian is a recent victim of the Arkham Stabber.
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Oh my, that is most unfortunate. Not quite unexpected though. I find a dead guest in one of the rooms almost every day.
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Well, that's good to hear since I won't be staying here any time soon. But I really need that information in order to investigate his murder.

Etienne ponders the request for a moment and straightens his bow tie with an artificial air of self-importance.

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If that is the case, I believe I can make an exception.

He opens the hotel register and begins leafing through its pages.

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Ah, there it is. Julian, no surname given. Checked in with three others. Hmm, I remember those men coming to the hotel. It was right before the Black Day.
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I recall I was suspicious of them right away. They did not at all seem the caliber of gentlemen we prefer here, moping about the lobby like clueless immigrants straight from the ship. But they paid for two king size rooms in advance.

He continues looking through the register.

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Some time after the Black Day, though God knows how long, Julian and the one with the Irish accent left the hotel. The others carried on staying here.
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You mentioned Julian came with three others. What were their names?
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Salvador, Abel, and Keelan.
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Which one had the Irish accent?
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I cannot recall, monsieur. But if I were to guess, I would say Keelan. It's certainly the most Irish of the bunch.
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May I inspect the room where Julian stayed?
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I would not recommend it, monsieur. Carrion Jack is currently residing in room 303, and I do not think he's planning on checking out any time soon.
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For he is celebrating the crime...what he did to Betsy Ross. Heartbreaking to think of it. As a reward for his service, Wax Face granted Monsieur Carrion with unlimited Copperhead and two of his personal courtesans.
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Betsy Ross? Who is that?
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You've not heard of her? In the first month of Monsieur Wax's reign, a few of Arkham's bravest men and women, or dumbest according to some, openly defied the Mob.
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They turned vigilante, masked guerrillas who risked their lives to bring some hope back to Arkham. These rebels were hunted down one by one, until only Betsy remained. A fearless woman who wore Old Glory for her disguise.
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For months she showed the courage the rest of us lacked, and offered hope of the justice we all wished for, until Carrion Jack shot her in the head and left her body to the ghouls. And that, monsieur, is how hope finally died in Arkham.
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They may slay the individual, but they cannot slay the human spirit!

Sanity gained : 2

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I strongly recommend keeping such sentiments to yourself, monsieur.
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You mentioned Copperhead. What is that?
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It is a special whiskey the Mob produces. They put a live copperhead snake inside a full bottle and the serpent bleeds its venom into the liquor while drowning.
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That's nasty.
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I know it does not sound very tempting, but they actually drink it, monsieur, believing it will make them manlier or something. Definitely not a vintage any respectable sommelier would recommend.
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And this Carrion Jack can drink plenty of it?
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Naturally. In fact, he claims to be the Copperhead drinking champion. He is dangerously boastful about it.
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Duly noted. You spoke of the Essex's guest list. How can I get on the list?
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I'm afraid I cannot answer this question, monsieur, for I do not know. They send a new list every once in a while and I arrange the accommodations.
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What can you tell me about the guests? What are they like?

He clears his throat.

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Common traits of the guests seem to be excessive drinking, vandalizing hotel property, and every other combination of misconducts, including the occasional murder of other guests, committing ritual sacrifice and so on.
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Why do you ask, monsieur? Do you wish to participate in such endeavors, monsieur?

I can't tell if he's joking or not.

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Oh, not at all. I'm just wondering if I can be an exception, your own special guest. A guest with lots of tobacco.

He sighs.

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Monsieur, this wounded but proud establishment has only me now. The Essex has lived through the pages of history, and witnessed much.
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In the War of the States, she hosted General Miller. President Adams stayed in the royal suite after the treaty of Norfolk. It is said that Captain Crane's house was on this very spot long before the hotel was built.
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A lot of history, you see. And only me to remember. Please consider this before making an offer that might lead me to lose my temper.
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Understood. However, it seems the approved guests are not very respectful of this establishment.

He gazes across the one grand lobby with melancholy plain in his eyes.

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We have seen better days, monsieur. This hotel and me, we've seen better days.
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Would it be alright if I go upstairs and see if I could speak with Mr. Carrion?
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If you insist, monsieur. Take good care of yourself.
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Then I'll do just that. Goodbye.
 

RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
Patron
Joined
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Messages
28,396
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
25 - Carrion on Top
Having exhausted all possible interactions in the lobby, I head upstairs.

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It does not sound like a fun read. But the Outsider would find it an engaging bedtime story.

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The dressers and drawers provided a few loose cigs, a hat and a shiv. I pocket them. The hat might fetch a good price.

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I make my way to the second floor.

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Etienne wasn't joking.

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A flash of red in one of the drawer. I decided to have a closer look, pulling the fabric. And out comes a red robe and an accompanying note.

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Not sure what to make of this. A cultist robe might be useful for disguise... but I'm missing its hood. I resume searching the rest of the room. An occult manuscript, some loose cigarettes and a can of spaghetti are all that's worth taking. I move on towards the third floor.

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Anything I should be worried about?

The Outsider mouths a warning of a potential wrath of this room's spiritual occupant. I found myself not really bothered, having no experience in things of occult nature. I poked around for loose change and went away with a top hat, gentleman's coat, yet another occult manuscript, as well as cigs and .38 caliber rounds. And that was it for Room 302.

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He does not look pleased by the interruption.

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Who the fuck are you?

I found myself at a loss of words.

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Uh, hello.

I can sense the bestial anger bubble within the mobster. I probably don't have much time before things take a violent turn.

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R-room service. I just need to clean up. A few minutes, tops.

He leans towards me like a vulture, his repulsive odor forcing itself into my nostrils.

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Now listen to me you slave bastard. And listen well, because I'm only going to say this once.
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If you ever knock on this door again, for any goddamn reason, someone will be cleaning your fucking intestines from all over this room.

A tactical withdrawal seems like the best option for now.

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Understood, sir. I hope you have a wonderful stay in our hotel, sir. Goodbye!

He slams the door shut. I'll need to find some way to get in that room in the future. For now, let's check the last room.

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Etienne's drawers are too secured even with the artifact's help. I'm afraid I would just have to avail myself to his opium stash for now.

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Last edited:

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
26 - Detective Story
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A bulky man with a missing arm is occupying one of the grimy table of the Old Eel. It appears he is struggling to drink his troubles away, but the pain written on his face tells a different story.

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Are you Detective Wilkins?
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Well done, you found me. You must be a detective too. What do you want from me?
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I'm investigating the Arkham Stabber. Can you please share your information on this case?
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You're asking me the last thing I want to remember in this world? I lost my fucking arm over that psycho! Get lost!

He struggles to open his whiskey bottle with one hand. I held out an open palm and he backed off to let me open it for him.

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What would change your mind?
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Do I fucking look like I want to discuss this?

He looks at what remains of his severed limb.

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Do you know how this feels? The pain I can cope with, if I'm lucky. But the itching, the damned itching never relents! That's the real hell. Have you ever tried scratching a part of you that ain't there anymore?
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No, but I understand how you feel.
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Bullshit. Unless one of your arms is a very nicely made fake, you don't understand a damned thing! So don't bother to play mister sympathy with me.
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Maybe I can help with that condition.
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Yeah, what can you do? I've heard of people calling this phantom pain. How can you heal a non-existent arm?
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(Psychology) The pain is in your mind. If we can somehow deceive your senses, the pain will cease.
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You sound like a doctor now. You think you can stop the pain? And the itching? Fuck, it's hopeless!

He tips up his glass of moonshine and finishes it in one gulp. I make a quick scan of my pack's contents to see if I had anything that could create that illusion.

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(Psychology) Okay. Let's try this. I'm gonna make your mind think you have your arm back.

I took out a fragment of a smashed mirror from god knows where. Maybe it's the bank. Or the wrecked bus. Who cares? It's there now on the table. Carefully, I adjusted it to display a symmetrical reflection of Wilkins' intact arm. Wilkins scowled, he was about to mouth something off when he glanced into the mirror's image and stopped. Gradually the tension on his face is fading away.

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That...feels much so much better! The itching, it's gone! How strange! Thank you! What's your name?
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I'm Kalin Ibrahim. And you're welcome.

He takes another sip of his cheap whiskey.

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Well, fire away. Any questions you want. I owe you one.
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The Arkham Stabber. Tell me everything you know.

He lets out a deep breath.

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Your choice, you still got four limbs after all. My involvement started when the Stabber was targeting Mob members.
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And naturally this got the attention of Wax Face. Kill the King's men, and the king comes after you, right? The Stabber was a threat to his authority, somebody pissing in his backyard, so they hired me to find the killer.
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They want to preserve their image of invincibility. That's understandable.
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Look, you don't understand shit about that, that...

He looks around anxiously and lowers his voice.

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...good Samaritan. That bringer of law, unseen Caesar, whatever...

He knew he almost slipped up. And calmed himself down.

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Alright. Chill, Wilkins. Let's start with the victims' names.

He pulls out an old notebook and find a torn page inside.

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Salvador and Abel, no one important. Clueless, fresh recruits for the Mob, that's all.
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Then I looked into how they were killed and that proved interesting indeed. The wounds pointed to one thing, a sword, and a big one, with a broad blade.
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Pierced those fellows dozens of time. Until they were human colanders. I've seen a lot in this profession but that was... ferocious.
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I remember those names. They were registered at the hotel with Julian, the last victim!

He lights a cigarette.

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Interesting! Finally, we may have found a pattern. So these three came to the hotel together. And they're all dead now. Why?
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Actually, there's a fourth one. A man called Keelan. He's still alive.
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Hm. Then we can assume the murders won't stop until this Keelan fellow gets well ventilated. Unless...

He puffs.

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He's the Stabber.
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A bold deduction. But what makes you think so?
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Think about it, Kalin: riffraff arriving from out of town, probably into some shady business, and when the deed is done they turn on each other like rabid dogs. I've seen it happen before.
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A plausible motive, but I've yet to understand the four's activities in Arkham.
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Well, whatever the truth is, you should keep an eye out for this Keelan fellow. He may be the key to all this.
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Will do. Anything else you've got on the case?
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Gotta admit, you're not too bad at this. I wasn't expecting much and that's why I kept my trap shut on my real leads. No offense.
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None taken.
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I just prefer not to point my fingers at suspects, especially after seeing how brutal the Mob can be. I know this is a bad habit. Work ethics can cost you an arm in this place.
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Are you going to tell me how you lost your arm?
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I was like you once, intrigued by the motivations of people, curious about how they think and behave...
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But there are some things you shouldn't be curious about, and some people...

He takes a deep drag from his cig before continuing.

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As I mentioned, after some time on the case I had a few strong suspects.
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But not matter how hard I tried, I couldn't hold the facts together to make a concrete accusation. I didn't have enough evidence! And the detective's curse was all over me: indecisiveness.
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Some time later I was summoned to the court of Wax Face. Seeing that fucker in person almost gave me a heart attack. He asked me the identity of the Stabber.
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In the end, I didn't give him a name. Instead, I gathered my courage to ask for more time. I guaranteed I would find the killer soon. He seemed to be listening at first, and asked me one thing in the end.
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One fucking question: "Right or left?" I didn't get it, I was too nervous. So the cold blooded bastard continued. He said "I'll show you how simple it is to make a decision. Your right arm or your left?"
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I - I had to choose fast or I would lose both! So I chose! Fuck this case and fuck the day I became a bloody detective!
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I'm sorry, Wilkins. You did the right thing.

Sanity gained: 2

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Right. And all it cost me was my right arm. Nuts!

Angst gained: 5

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Tell me about these suspects of yours.
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I had three good trails but they all went cold. My first suspect was a redskin called Wjatal. Te other one was a magician called Horatio, and lastly I had a witness, a mute girl.
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Who's this native? Wjatal?
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He's a crazy indian who believes he's continuing the ways of his ancestors. Formed his own tribe in Dead Willows after everything went to hell. A shanty town of stinking tents.
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He's savage son of a bitch too eager to use his machete on anyone he defines as a white oppressor, especially the Mob.
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Motive? Check. Potential murder weapon? Check. I'd pay him a visit if I were you, but you've been warned. He's awful protective about his territory and prefers to let his machete do the talking.

I wanted to point out the fact that machete is a slashing weapon, so it can't be the murder weapon but thought better of it.

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Where's Dead Willows located?

He draws a circle on my map.

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It used to be a resort area along the Miskatonic river, full of white willow trees. Fancy place.
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Tell me about Horatio.
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Horatio the Magnificent, they used to call him. I saw nothing magnificent about the man though. A total wreck. He was pretty vocal about his hate for Wax Face. Suicidal, right?
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He had the motive, and I know he uses old fashioned swords in his shows. You know, the coffin and the blades, and nonsense like that.
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Where can I find him?
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The last time I saw him, he was staying in room number 203 of the Essex Hotel. Considering his suicidal tendencies, it might be a good idea to get your ass over there in a hurry.
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Duly noted. What's this about a mute girl you mentioned?
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Donna the Mute is what the other tunnel kids call her. She wasn't always mute, so I heard. They say she became like that after witnessing the murder of Abel. The eyes on that little girl.
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So she's not a suspect, but a star witness. Can't you get her to talk?
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I tried everything. If you think you can do better, be my guest. She lives with the other orphans in the collapsed train tunnel, in the northeastern part of French Hill.
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Well, Wilkins... I better go. The game's afoot.
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And you still have two arms, pal. You owe me a drink, don't forget that. Good hunting.
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Unwanted

Kalin

Unwanted
Dumbfuck Zionist Agent
Joined
Sep 29, 2010
Messages
1,868,264
Location
Al Scandiya
Sir I must object to the slander of making me a humanist who consorts with muties and womyn (also that whisky would never remain un-drunk in my inventory!) That said fun LP so far, saves me from having to play it. Most horrendous element so far is definitely the lack of combat speed options.
 

RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
Patron
Joined
Feb 23, 2006
Messages
28,396
Location
Not Here
Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
27 - Magicians hate him
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Leave me alone!
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Mr. Horatio? I'm Kalin Ibrahim. I just need a few questions answered.
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Questions? About what?
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The Arkham Stabber.
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What does that have to do with me? You listen to me, there's a ruthless killer in this town, yes.
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And he is worse than that Stabber! He is the king of all of Arkham's murderers! You know who I'm speaking of, that black-hearted, wax-faced son of a bitch! Now go ahead and point the finger on me. I don't care who hears me say it. He's a son of a bitch!
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Sir, I won't do anything like that. I'm not acquainted with the Mob at all.
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Then please leave, sir! Considering the things I'm planning to do, even talking to me might cost you your neck.
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(Speechcraft) I'm sure you can hold off whatever it is you're planning. Just a few simple questions, sir and I'll be on my way.

The room goes silent for a few seconds, then the lock clicks and the door yawns open.

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A devastated looking man stood in a wrinkled, stained stage costume. This must be the Magnificent Horatio, or what's left of him.

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You're not going to kill me, right?
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No. Not at all. Just a few questions, as promised.
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All right, ask your questions.
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Did you hear about the young man who was killed on Main Street a while ago?

He wavered for a moment.

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Did you hear about the lovely young lady who was killed at the hands of that tyrant? Look pal, we each have our own wounds in this wretched town.
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What lady?

His tired eyes begin to water.

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She was my assistant. Not just my assistant. Violet was everything I had.
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She was... Eh! I don't suppose you came here to ask about her. Forget about it.
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Very well. So you know absolutely nothing about Julian, the latest victim of the Stabber? He used to stay here. Room 303.
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I don't like your tone sir. Please leave after you're done with your questioning.
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Fine. What about the Stabber? Anything you can tell me?
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I've heard that some folks were being stabbed. I've barely left this gloomy chamber for a long time.. weeks. Or is it months?
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I cannot remember. Dusk was always the most melancholic time of day for me. Now I'm trapped forever in this moment of eternal dusk.
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All alone with my memories of her. On a bright day some memories can warm your heart. On days like this they pierce you like ice, reminding you of what has been lost forever.
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I'm sorry. I know the feeling.

Sanity gained: 2

Horatio silently stares at the wall. My words did not reach him.

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You seem to bear a grudge against Wax Face. Care to explain why?

His eyes focus on the memory of his sworn enemy and he answers slowly, making every word count.

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He took what is dearest from me and I plan to do exactly the same.
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And if I cannot find something that monster holds dear, which would be of no surprise to me at all, then I will take the wretched life from his fat carcass!

I walked past him for a moment, gazing out of his window. From here, the lifeless body of Julian is still visible.

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Are we done? I've answered all your questions. I saw nothing. I heard nothing.
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Horatio, your window directly overlooks the crime scene and you say you never left this room. Yet you saw nothing?
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I was... I was sleeping.

He averts his gaze, caught in a lie.

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Horatio, this is serious. More people may die.
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I saw nothing! I was...
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I can still see the corpse from your damned window!

Horatio finally succumbed to pressure and replied in angry desperation.

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All right! I saw it! I saw how they ripped that young man to pieces!
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They? There were multiple attackers?
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A swarm of shadows with black stingers that feed on the flesh of men!

In his eyes I can detect a touch of admiration along with fear.

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Why would you hide this information?
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Because they were strong and merciless! And they knew how to kill! They're as ruthless as that monster, Wax Face!
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Are you sure you're not mistaken? Can't they simply be men dressed in black wielding sharp blades?
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Wait, there's more! When the shadows were done with that man, I stormed down the stairs to catch them. I shouted after them but they never even turned to look at me. And I swear they flew away through the air.

With his current mental state, I can't say that's he's a reliable witness at this point. But those wounds are anything but normal.

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Describe these shadows for me. Do you have any idea what they are?
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How should I know? I've been ridiculed for these kind of things all my life. Spirits of some kind? But I could feel the hatred oozing out of them. It was like mine... maybe even stronger.
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Why did you go after them?
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Only because I wanted them to kill Wax Face, I would give anything to make him suffer like I did. My life, my soul! ANYTHING!

He is clearly on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

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(Psychology) Horatio, calm down. I know it seems unbearable, but this is simply a natural reaction when coping with grief.

My words were somewhat successful in keeping his psyche in check. He starts sobbing.

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Did you see where the shadows went?
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I might have. I just might. You asked me for the truth and I gave it to you, yes? But in exposing the killers you might deny me the chance of vengeance. Therefore you owe me.
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You know what I'm planning to do and you're going to help me. That is if you want to know where that house of shadows is...

He wants me to kill Wax Face?

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Do you really think I can succeed?
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Of course not! You think I'd trust a stranger with something that important? All I need is an unguarded entrance to the Blackened Club. The rest I shall take care of it myself.
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First tell me what he did to your assistant.
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Violet. She never wanted that show. Not one bit. A private show for the Unseen Imperatore himself. Who would want that? But I told her it would be good for us. He was the only authority in this chaos, after all. I thought if he liked the show he would protect us. Foolish, wasn't it?
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You acted to protect yourself and Violet. I don't think that's a foolish thing.
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No, Kalin. I acted like a moron. Despite her misgivings, she finally gave in to my persuasions. So we found ourselves there in the end. Straight into the casino lounge. Spent hours preparing the stage. I wanted that show to be perfect. I wanted to make an impression.
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When we were finally ready, and nervous as hell, he came. Surrounded by his made men, who were like flies buzzing around rotten meat. We weren't allowed to look at him directly, but I could see his huge silhouette out of the corner of my eyes.
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The first few tricks went well. I couldn't see the man's face and the made men seemed uninterested, but I can tell when there's a spark in the eyes of the audience.
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Then the time came for the blade box act. You've heard of the trick, right? The lady gets inside a prop coffin and the magician stabs it through with swords.
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Then the lady comes out just fine, and you never know how. In reality, the entry points of the swords are all precisely calculated.
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So we were in the middle of the act and Violet was inside the box. When I was about to insert the third sword, someone walked up to the stage.
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Wax Face had actually stood up and was walking towards me. I could hear his heavy footsteps without even turning my head. I was trembling when he finally asked me if he could give it a try.
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Before I knew what was happening, his brutes grabbed the swords from my hands and grappled me. They forced me to keep my head down.
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He started stabbing the box. Shattering wood savagely. Then I heard Violet scream! Blood was seeping out of the box. It was turned into her coffin!
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When he was done, he called me a fraud, ordering his men to throw me out. I don't know, care, or remember what's happened since then. Here I am now...
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Just because I said my piece doesn't mean you should feel sorry for me. If you want to help me, I already told you how to do it.

This is foolish. I'll just be sending this man into suicide.

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I'll take a look, but I'm not going to promise anything.
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Good. The monster's lair is called the Blackened Club. It stands in French Hill. Just find a way in and return to me.

He's not the killer. But shadows did. The supernatural kind. Maybe I should question that mute kid at French Hill. She must have seen something.

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Mr. Carrion. I've heard some things about you.
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Oh yeah?

He reaches calmly for the .45 caliber pistol in his shoulder holster. His eyes carry the blackness of a shark closing in on its prey.

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Like what?
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Like you bolt down a lot of copperheads. They say you've got stamina.
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So what? You a drinker?
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I'm more than that, I'm fucking addicted to that poison.
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You are eh? I've seen tougher men cough up their guts trying to out-drink me. I'm going to enjoy this. All right. Crack it open.
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Uh. Crack what open?
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The copperhead whiskey, dolt! You come to my door shooting your mouth off, and expect to drink MY poison? Show me the fucking bottle!
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Oh yes, yes. I've got it right here. See?

This isn't going to plan. I was planning to gift him a bottle for just a few moments of checking his room but this...I quickly pull the bottle out of my pack. He snatches the liquor in a flash and opens it before raising it towards me.

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To all the brave, dead idiots of Arkham. Come in! And let the contest begin!
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This wasn't the plan...my physique faltered and the room starts to blur after a third of the bottle was gone.

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RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
Patron
Joined
Feb 23, 2006
Messages
28,396
Location
Not Here
Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
28 - Cursed
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Shaking off the shock, my eyes examine the man's body. It appears to have been subjected to some kind of torture that ultimately crippled both his body and soul. Moments pass, the man makes a heathen hand gesture before speaking in a manner that can only be described as a loud whisper.

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They sent you to bring me back, cult dog?

I swallowed a lump down my throat.

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They think Krogh is still the easy meat he used to be! One step closer and Barzal Thargh Anu shreds you into a thousand pieces!

Sensing a ruinous power emanating from this man, I decided to play it safe.

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Look, I have no idea of what's going on here!

He looks surprised, but his eyes are still full of caution.

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Then make yourself known! Or I'll let the black worms devour your eyes!
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(Speechcraft) I respect your confidentiality and must ask for the same. You're not the only one who has enemies.

He tips his head strangely to one side, as if listening to an invisible adviser.

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Yes, this one has a sharp tongue, Barzal. That may make a good spell component for sure. The question is shall I trust him?

A short pause, and then he nods, his whispers turn loud and blood-freezing.

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KHAL'ASH AN DURH THA'ERG-AHN ZITH NAB'SHAKH!

I felt a chilling fear.

Sanity Lost: 5 (Fear)

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Stop it! I mean you no harm!
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You've used your tongue, it's time I used mine, intruder. KHAR-SHALEB'KHER THRAFLAEKHS!

I can feel a form of consciousness probing my mind as the toxic stench of brimstone attacks my nostrils.

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So, you are not allied with my adversaries. This means you may live for a few minutes more.
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I am eternally grateful.
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You think I would take the risk of letting you g-Aaaaaarrgh!

All of the sudden the man falls into violent spasms and suffers extreme pain.

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Hey, what's going on? Are you alright, man?

The man ignores my question and focused on his breathing for a while.

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I cannot let you go. No one seeing me on this side of the river may live.
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Can't we find a resolution where both of us may live?
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I'm afraid not, and I'm sorry about this-

His attention is again caught by something unseen. The tortured man now seems to be conversing with thin air. I quietly wait for the bizarre discussion to end.

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There may be a way.
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I'm listening.
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Barzal Tharg Anu knows an old curse, it is called Verba Derelicta. It was once used on spies and assassins as a precaution in case they get caught.
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Those who carry the curse cannot even mention the name of the caster. And if the cursed is pushed to their limits, as in an interrogation, they simply die.
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What if I refuse?
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It was you who trespassed in our domain, and as your hosts I and Barzal Tharg Anu have the final say. Cursed or dead?
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(Speechcraft) I can be more beneficial to you if I retain my full faculties. What if I need to lie to protect you?

I notice his lips have already started moving before I could finish my sentence. Whispers in Magus Latin. A sudden touch of an ice cold drop on my forehead made me realize the curse has been inflicted.

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And have I told you the spell is also quiet quick to cast? But don't put on the sackcloth and ashes, my friend. We can be real allies now.

He smiles for the first time.

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Damn.
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In time you may discover that a warlock and a daemon can come very handy in a town that's gone to hell.

The deed's been done, at least I don't have to do battle with this crazed sorcerer and his daemonic entity.

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You seem well-versed in the ways of the occult. Do you know what this is?

I hold out the clay figurine from the Bank for him to examine.

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Of course. This is a representation of Cthulhu, or the Grandfather as the Cult calls him.
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The Sheiks of the Cult have been telling us they could feel its presence nearby. I even heard that a band of cultists actually saw his majesty in full glory, rising on the horizon.
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I've also heard that when they are found, almost all of them were dead, with smiles of awe permanently fixed to their faces. And they tell that the surviving acolyte was saying just one thing: "Oh, beautiful doom!"
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How awful. I noticed you are speaking to an entity during our conversation. Who is this infernal guest?
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His name is Barzal Tharg Anu, and I advise you to address him by his true name. He is a guest in my domain and also my only ally in this game of cat and mouse.
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I mean no offense, but how did you become like this? Was it the Cult's work?

He winces as he recalls a great deal of torment and pain inflicted upon him.

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Do you think I hold any good memories of it? They stamped, scraped and bent me until I lost all purpose! Until I was reborn in their eyes!
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Let's just say I was more interested in learning than worshipping. So they had to rehabilitate me. They had to teach me that questioning leads to the ultimate form of unhappiness.
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They say "Under the Awakened's sanctified presence, no pursuit other than devaluing yourself can bestow tranquility." So they devalued me to a point where only suffering remains. And that is how I came to be.
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This man... He is a breathing monument of the evil your kind commit against each other. And I believed I was one of you? How grandiosely naive.
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Not all of us are like this.

Sanity gained: 2

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That may be true, but my observation applies to almost all of you.

I turn my attention back to Krogh.

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You said you learned a lot of occult knowledge - can I convince you to impart to me a few of them?
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Yes, as long as you have something to take my pain away. I had stolen some tomes and manuscripts from the Cult before making my escape. I can part with a few volumes that I've studied thoroughly and have no further need anymore.
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RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
Patron
Joined
Feb 23, 2006
Messages
28,396
Location
Not Here
Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
29 - Far Beyond
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But you're a chemist, you should know something about it.
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Let's see... the main component of formaldehyde turns out to be methyl alcohol. Hmm, there should be a pretty high methyl alcohol output at the Distillery because of that charlatan Wheat's crude distilling methods.
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So if you can get me the methyl alcohol from there, I guess I can make you some. For a price of course... and at last I can preserve my dead fetuses in the back decently. Just joking... or am I?
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Where is this distillery?
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Just east out of town. Here, let me show it on your map.
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You mentioned a man named Wheat. What's he like?
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A drunk fraud who pretends to be the distiller for the Mob. I've heard that his own whiskey brand was third class at best even before the Black Day. You can guess how primitive and graceless his products now are.
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Yeah, I bet. By the way, do you know where I can find a radio transmitter?
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A transmitter? It won't be easy to find such a delicate part in Arkham. Try the French Hill. I've heard a man called Dumitrescu resides there. I know that surname. If he is the person I think he is, that man may be your best bet.
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You're amazing, Richter. Goodbye.
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A voice sizzles from the speaker asking me what I wanted.

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Um, I'm looking for a radio transmitter. I've been told you might be able to help.

After a few seconds, the door unlocks with a buzz. It is remarkable to see a working piece of technology in this ruined town.

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Strange devices give out a constant humming in the room, a workbench stands by the wall, filled tools hanging from the wall, ready to assist technological manufacture.

A middle aged man with a strong aura of intelligence and discipline sits next to some sophisticated radio machinery. He looks devoured by the efforts he puts into these contraptions.

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May I ask who you are?
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I'm Kalin Ibrahim.
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All right, Kalin. The only reason I'm allowing you to interrupt my work is that you've excited my attention with your rather interesting request. Would you care to explain why you need such parts?

I don't feel like explaining to him what Fredkin intents to do with them. It's not like I have a clue on how he intends to accomplish that anyway.

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Let's just say that I have a keen interest in radio technology, like you.
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Is that so? Are you a man of science, Kalin?
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No, but it's my best bet.
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I see. Many people out there have invented pitiful things, simply to have something to hold on to. I apologize for my arrogance, but what I am doing here has real value to us all.

Another humble achiever with a technological bent.

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So, will you help me with the parts?
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Very well, sir. Your direct approach also suits the constrained time frame of my work. While I do have other common parts like conductors and such, but the radio transmitter you need is another story. A story that I may also have a role in.
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Care to elaborate?
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I placed an order for some not long before the event I now describe as a planar shift.
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After weathering the initial shock from the disaster, I returned to my work.
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It is here in my lab, I've poured every effort on pursuing my discovery. After some initial measurements and tests I knew I was on to something. I knew that I was on the cusp of something great.
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But just like you, I found myself in need of radio parts. What happened next almost cost me my life.
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What happened?
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I headed for the Marsh Warehouse. I knew that my shipment had to be in there somewhere. It was the early days of Wax Face's rise and the chaos in the streets gave me the cover I needed to enter undetected.
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There were... things inside. Creatures straight out of the folktales of my childhood. Varcolac, beast people.
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After I had nearly lost an arm to one of the monsters, I decided to leave the shipment where it was. I cannot complete this important work without myself after all. You see what I mean?
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Then the transmitter is still there?
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I heard that the warehouse was sealed, so in theory yes. If you can somehow survive the beast men, you will find my shipment.

He hands me a bill of delivery.

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This should help you locate the crate. You are free to help yourself to the transmitter, but please bring me the remaining components. They are crucial to my efforts here.
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Where is this warehouse?
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It's in the Riverside district. An old building. You won't miss it, I'm sure.
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I see a lot of machine here. What are you working on?
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I'm sorry, sir, but it would take too much of my precious time to explain to a novice. Just know that my work may prove crucial to all of us.
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(Speechcraft) I am really impressed. I would love to hear more about your work.
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Since you're so interested... I've been working on a new long wave radio.
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I began this undertaking long before the Black Day. I was producing my own 300 watt spark transmitters instead of the regular 250, and experimenting with battery-less receivers.
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Both groundbreaking concepts far beyond the capacity of that thug Denison.

His voice briefly turns to a snarl.

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He is the reason I'm here.
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You mean the Denison? Of the Denison Company?

Hearing the name definitely enrages him.

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The very same bastard! Begotten by his mother on filthy sunflower seeds!

A peculiar insult, but it surely meant something in his home country.

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He stole my invention after enticing me into a partnership, I can't believe I trusted that bulangiu! While I was busy improving the prototype, he was stealing the patent behind my back!
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Did you take him to court?
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I did. But he was the great Denison, a respected businessman! And who am I? A strange fellow with a foreign surname, graduate of the University of Lashi.
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To avoid becoming a murderer, I decided to get away from the accursed patent laws and come to New England. Far from Denison's grasp, I started working on a newer, better prototype.
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A much superior model that would transmit and receive signals across great distances. I was working round-the-clock, like in a fever, when the disaster struck. Everything was ruined.
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The world had no meaning anymore. Nothing. Until I heard the signal, a thunderous frequency, like some unknown entity trying to communicate with me.
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It was clear that this was a message! Soon I made an even more surprising discovery: the signal wasn't coming from anywhere in Arkham! It was coming from beyond?
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Beyond what?
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Another dimension! Meaning I had a chance to communicate with the world we were separated from.
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If I can discover the source and extend the search range, I can further modify the spectrometer and we can establish contact with the world!
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How do you know the world still exists?
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At least I would know for certain, one way or another.
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May I hear this alien signal?

He considers my request before reaching to turn a knob on a nearby apparatus. A thunderous signal emits from the device, an incomprehensible message.

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Interesting.

He stops the broadcast.

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You see? I am the first human to discover such a signal. Where are you now, Denison?
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Well, wish me luck then. Hopefully we both get to have what we want soon. Thank you for time Mr. uh...

I struggle to pronounce his surname.

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Victor Dumitrescu. Good luck, Mr. Ibrahim. I hope to see you again.
 

RK47

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Patron
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Messages
28,396
Location
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
30 - Lost Voice
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Hello there.

She doesn't reply. This girl must be in shock. I pull out the pendulum and begin to work.

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(Psychology) Listen carefully, my child. We must return to a certain moment in your past.

I start to sway the pendulum gently.

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Be calm, Donna. You feel very relaxed. Time is slowing down now. Imagine everything getting slower and slower.

Her eyes track the motion of the pendulum. The technique is beginning to take effect.

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As the world slows down, your eyelids begin to grow heavy. Heavier and heavier.

As her eyes move in perfect sync with the pendulum, her eyelids twitch once, twice.

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Close your eyes now. You are safe now. You are completely at ease.

She finally closes her eyes. All signs of anxiety have vanished.

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We're returning to a moment in your past, Donna. A moment when you're away from this place. A moment all by yourself.

Her eyes are moving behind the lids in small, rapid jerks. The child is now completely under my influence.

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Something is happening Donna. Something bad. You're scared.

Her expression slowly changes. Her face grows pale. Her throat contracts and swallows in distress.
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Where are you, Donna? Describe your surroundings.

As her fear rises, her small body shivers in agitation. Her lips move silently.

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Yes, you can do it. Speak to me, Donna.
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Shadows.
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What do you mean, Donna?
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A man. He screams! Shadows follow him... they ... they want to eat that man!
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Where are you? Where is this happening?
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I'm away from French Hill... I just wanted to play in the ruins. I don't want to be here!

Tears begin to flow from her eyes.

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Stay calm, child. You're safe now. What do you see?
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Shadows! They're stinging the man! Again and again and again! He's on his knees. He screams like...that turkey mama cut once!

She covers her ears with her hands.

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He's silent now. The Shadows are stinging him and he's flailing around like a rag doll. The shadows are moving away from the turkey man. They're rising into the air.
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Where are they returning to?
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A house. They're flying to a house.

She lets out a high-pitched cry.

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Haunted house! It's a haunted house! On a hill behind the water tank! I see it now. The windows look like monster eyes.

I took note of the landmarks she describes. With a little effort I may be able to isolate its location on my map later. As I wrote down the last description, she shrieks and begin to tremble uncontrollably.

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One of them is flying here! It sees me! Oh! Mama, its eyes! No! Mamaaaa! It has stars for eyes! Evil stars! Aieeee!

I clapped my hand, trying to break her out of the trance.

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Wake up, Donna!

The girl broke free, leaving the traumatic memory behind. Although her breathing is ragged, her eyes are staring blankly once again. She has returned to a state of partial catatonia.

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Poor kid.
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I'm sorry, boy.
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She was mute all right, but it was better than her screaming! Why do you bring us trouble! Leave us alone!
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Look, I just wanted to help. Take this, for the trouble I've caused.

I pull out a tin of spaghetti from my pack. The boy stares sullenly at the canned food.

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Now you want to hush me up?
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It's not. Just take it, boy.

The kids rapidly begin to assemble, as if at some hidden signal. The boy snatches the can from my hands, while others take Donna's arm. They all disappear into their hideout to share the food.

Sanity gained: 2

I've learned the location of the house. So there's no need to help Horatio with his suicide mission. Next step would be to leave town and check this place out. Hmm...

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I'll say that to them, yes, I'll say it!

She seems to be rehearsing a speech.

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You brutes! You will stop this at once! How can you condemn innocents to such fate? And I'll tech those heartless men a lesson. I'll do it!
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Who are these heartless men?
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Why, the brutes of the mafia of course! Godless murderers of that tyrant, Wax Face, who runs that toxic distillery for his own profit. They will all rot in hell!
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What did they do to you?
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They took my husband. Not with their filthy bullets but with the poison they sell as liquor! Harold was a God fearing man, sir. He only drank to forget his troubles, and now he's dead!
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He died from drinking?
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It's not fit to be called a drink! It's sewage they produce at that damned distillery of theirs! Poison, I say, pure poison! It made him go blind!
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How did he die?

No matter how I questioned her, she refuses to answer.

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They killed him! He wasn't the kind of person to do that otherwise! He would never have left me alone in this place!
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I am sorry for your loss, madam.
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Thank you but I- I... Oh God.

She completely lost control and starts crying her heart out. Her weeping echoes thorugh the ruined streets. The cries soon subsides, but the vengeful fires burning in her eyes show no sign of fading.

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You mentioned something was troubling your husband. What was it?
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My husband was the mayor's assistant. He.. he had a disturbing experience at work, a little while before the Black Day.
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I begged him not to think about it, but he just wouldn't let it go. He started to drink heavily thereafter.
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Could you be more specific?
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Harold said that the Mayor was in a foul mood that day. He was anxious about a strange man visiting his office, a man in black. Something to do with an invitation, I believe.
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A man in black? Do you know anything else about him?
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Oh, I don't want to think about it anymore. I don't know what to make of Harold's account, it's all too hard to digest. But my Harold never recovered from that incident.
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He believed that he had somehow been... Somehow... Damn it all! I wish the Lord had blinded me too, so I wouldn't have read that journal.

Word on the street has is that the people in charge disappeared from Arkham on Black Day, the mayor, chief of police...the such. I'm feeling rather curious of this entire affair.

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Madam, do you mind if I take a look at that journal?
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Why, no you can't, sir! As you can see, I have much more pressing matters than sharing Harold's intimate accounts. I have a town to cleanse from poison!
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What if I solve your moonshine problem, can I have a look at that diary?
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I don't know why you are so insistent on delving into my husband's troubled past, but if you can bring an end to their evil poison...Yes, you have my word, sir.
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I'll wait for you here, praying for your safe return. I know you won't let me down, the same way I know that we are righteous.
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Very well, madam. I shall return. Find somewhere safe on the mean time.

The Outsider turns to me after observing the grieving woman with his cold burning eyes.

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Rarely, only rarely, do it comfort me to have neither people to love nor to love me. Never to feel the pain of losing a loved one, this is perhaps the only merit of my doomed existence.

I tilted my head at the incel and suppressed a chuckle.

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You are a very interesting creature. Let's continue our journey.
 

RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
Patron
Joined
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Messages
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
31 - Poisoned well
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The wooden gates are reinforced with metal plates. Only one way in and out. One of Wax Face's made men stands among the brutes guarding the distillery. The stigmata on his face indicates he's another victim of syphillis, one of the non-supernatural demons plaguing Arkham. Not really trained in stealth or subterfuge, I decided to cautiously approach through the front gate.

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Pardon the intrusion, I just have to get inside the distillery.
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And I'm afraid I have to fill your tummy with lead.

He points his revolver at me.

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Look, I have a proposition.
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What could you possibly have in mind that deserves my attention, pal? Sounds to me like you're stalling for time.
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(Speechcraft) Look, I know you and your men deserve real credit for manning such an important post.
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Oh really? And in what form will this credit be realized?
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How about... twenty five cigs?
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Are you kidding me? You think I'd risk my fucking neck for twenty five cigs?
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Whoa, easy there. Fifty?
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Give it here.

I hand over the bundle of cigs to him. He lowers the revolver and started counting.

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Hey, thanks. Alright. You wanna get inside, right? First, you gotta tell me what you're planning to do.
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I just need to get a certain chemical. Richter sent me here.
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Ah, so you work for Richter? Can't say I envy you. Go ahead, but I'm warning you, if production slows down even a little bit, you're dead. Wax Face's orders.
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Gotcha.

The made man waved me through and started to distribute the cigs to his men to hush them up.

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Exhaustion is a bitch, sapping mental strength at the start. It's still mild for now (Mind -1, Will -1, Presence -1, Reaction -2), but once the tiredness kicks in, my body will start getting affected.

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Hey, I'm not with the m-
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I said be patient! You were enjoying MY quality stuff long before the damned calamity! Show me some respect and get out!
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Hey, I'm not with the mob.
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Then what the bloody hell do you want?
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Methyl alcohol. Can you help me with that?
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Well, that's easy. This laughable facility produces a ton of it already, and it doesn't make the product the healthiest around. But since there are no health inspectors left in this rotten town, it's not big deal, eh?
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That's good to hear. Can I have some?
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You think I'm running a charity or something? In Kentucky we earn things with our sweat and blood. Look, pal, I'm really tired of all this.

He gestures at the distillation tanks.

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They've got me grinding away in this place all day, every day. A real slave drive you know. And since there ain't no regular days and nights anymore, I've been doing this like, forever...
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But you know what I reaaaaaly want to do? I want to cross my legs, pour me a glass of Mammoth Cave and simply enjoy the damn thing! Oh, and a cigar... of course a cigar!
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Sorry to interrupt your fantasies, but what do you want me to do?

The man lifts his gaze from the ember of his imaginary cigar and continues speaking.

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You're going to get rid of those sons of whores waiting outside for me. So I can finally have a decent rest.
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You're serious? You mean kill them?
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YES! Every single one! You think I'm some goddamned slave, you bastards? You think you own Mr. Wheat? Kill'em and I'll even let you bathe in your damn wood-cohol.

I thought about this for a moment. On one hand, I have no qualms about helping this poor guy out of his predicament. On the other... I don't think I can do this. I just don't have the firepower.

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I may need a hand with that, Mr. Wheat.
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Oh, you're the wimpy kind? No worries there, pal. Mr. Wheat has an answer for that too.

He slips a small bottle into my hand.

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Those yahoos party every night with that barrel of moonshine outside, near the gate. Pour this in and leave the rest to my little pal there.
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You just get my methyl alcohol ready.

I grip the bottle tightly, weighing my next course of action. I argued that this is for the greater good. I can't really reconcile with the whole poisoning people to death - but on the other hand, what other choice do I have? They're going to work a poor man to death and eventually make the town drink bad liquor. It's a compromise I have to make

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I walk away quickly and observe them from a distance. Guilt and anticipation start to well up in my gut.

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The poison takes effect shortly, the mobsters fell one by one.

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He retrieves a bottle of Mammoth Cave bourbon and Cuban cigars from his hidden stash.

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Well done. Now how about we both have a nice glass of bourbon, you and me. This is the best, you know. Pure, liquid, gold.
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Sure thing, man.

He handed me a glass and a cigar. I swallowed the liquid.

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RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
Patron
Joined
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Messages
28,396
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
32 - Homecoming
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C'mon, Mr. Wheat. We both know whatever comes out from that machine does not even come close to what we just drank earlier!
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I knew that! But with this third class facility, I can't do anything about it. Now leave me alone before the next bunch of bastards arrive! You got what you wanted!
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Guess I'll look into it myself.
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Just don't break anything!
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Something's wrong with this section of the pipe. Come and take a look.
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Right in the middle of my holiday?
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People are dying, you know.
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Oh, all right.

He picks up his tool box and starts to work. After struggling with the problematic pipe for a while and finally conquering it, Wheat returns.

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Great! All done! Now will you leave, pal?
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I'm gone. No need to thank me.
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I make my way back to the clearing where I met the grieving widow earlier. Only to be met with a tragic scene.

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I took nothing else but her husband's journal and left the scene. I read as I walk through the desolate wasteland. Only the latest entry is of any interest to me.

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Arkham Theater? Where could that landmark be? More questions than answers remain. My reading was cut short by the sound of gunfire.

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"That thing's insane! He'll kill us all!" one of the passerby's ducking behind the tree shouted.

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Requesting reinforcements! They've got us pinned down in Zeebrugge! Ammunition low! Reinforcements, sir!

(Psychology) I hung back and observe the man's emotional state. The soldier talks into a telephone handset with a severed cord.

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Lieutenant Johnson? We're having a hard time here, sir! The Heinies are closing in. Third Platoon awaiting orders, sir!
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There's no enemy here, soldier. Calm down. You're suffering from shell shock.

He hesitates.

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But the Germans, sir... the enemy is upon us...
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Do you want a court-martial, private?

The soldier fell silent as a statue. He responds slowly in a neutral tone almost totally devoid of life.

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Sir, yes, sir.

I approach him cautiously. As I stared at his face, his cold dead eyes look back and shows a glint of respect, as though he recognizes me.

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(Investigate) Something's odd about you...

After scrutinizing him closely, I came upon a conclusion: this man is actually a corpse, reanimated to a mockery of life by some process unknown.

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No human being deserve such a fate...

The living corpse remains motionless. The embodiment of the ideal soldier. Inactive until the next command.

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You called me Lieutenant?
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Lt. Johnson, sir. Is this a test, sir?
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What's wrong with you?
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The mission... the intel we received was wrong, sir. Inaccurate. We took heavy casualties. Many god men lost. I can still hear them... Sir.
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What mission?
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Awaiting orders, sir!

He doesn't seem to want to answer. Or is he even capable of answering that question?

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Listen to me. Tell me who you are.
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Sir... I don't know, sir... I can't remember.
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Poor creature. Will you follow me? I'll try to keep you in check.
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Your regiment seems to be at full capacity, sir. I will be on watch here. Guarding. Waiting...

I'm at a dilemma here. I don't really want to leave him behind. Maybe someone should return to Old Eel on their own. I look at Sonia who seems constantly disinterested with the happenings of this world. She doesn't even react when I walked over to address her.

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Sonia, do you mind if we part for now?

Following a calm but unnerving pause, the posh lady in green steers the lackluster glance of her ruminant eyes towards me. I could sense her desperation from being alone once again, despite her best efforts to hide it.

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Well, I see that you've set your mind on other pursuits, in the way which I shan't become a hindrance. I'll be staying in the Old Eel should you decide to seek me again.

She departs silently into the mists.

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How awkward. I'll see you again, I guess.

I return to the silent soldier.

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Follow me.
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Sir, yes, sir!

He salutes energetically. He seems to have found peace in having someone to follow.

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How did you come to Arkham?
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Arkham... Arkham is my home, born and raised here. I'd like to see the old town again. When the war is over.
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Well... you've come home at last.

I gave him a pained smile, unsure if he would notice what has happened around him. No response.

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Are you there?
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Awaiting orders, Sir!
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Do you remember what happened during the war?
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I can't forget the day I was appointed to this place, Flanders Field, sir.
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It wasn't long after Wilson declared war on Germany that we got the draft card. "Eligible and liable for military service" it said. Class one. A proud infantry man for the United States Armed Forces.
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My old man was proud, but my mother... the blur of her eyes. The trembling in her voice. Her smile, fragile as porcelain...

It's clear that the memories are not taking the soldier to any place decent.

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I saw the tears beneath her smile but... I said nothing.

He clenches his fists. His voice rapidly slows and thickens into a shivering tone.

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I said NOTHING and I left...
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You can stop if you like.
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I turned a blind eye to that smile. I thought I'd come back...

Dark blood begins to flow from his clenched fists. His voice is more like a brooding howl now.

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I'm stuck in this WAR now. In the trenches of GODDAMNED Flanders. DIRT AND BLOOD AND ASHES!
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(Speechcraft) You're not alone now, private! The bad days are long gone, we can even start looking for your family!

He started going feral.

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WHAT AM I DOING HERE! WHGRRRR AARGHH AYHHH DNNNHHH GRRR!

Sanity loss: 7

The creature trembles with unnatural power, but he soon returns to normal. After what felt like ages, the creature is finally silent and still.

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I shouldn't have asked him that question.
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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
33 - Non homo
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Forgive the churlish fashion in which I present myself sir, but with all due respect, I must appeal to your discretion.
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I'm listening.
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My mistress invites you to a tea party at our yard. Our house would be honored if you would be so kind as to join her ladyship.
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That would be wonderful, but who is your mistress?
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Her ladyship is one of the most elegant, most erudite woman who has ever graced the earth. The hospitality of my mistress confers esteem and privilege to her guests.
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Please relish a cup of tea with her ladyship sir. Have no doubt that you, an esteemed guest of my mistress, will be treated to the best possible service.

Tea would be great. Coffee even better. I haven't had once since... forever.

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Very well. I accept her offer.

The servant immediately places a small table, tops it with cloth before setting the cups atop a tray. Soon after, the pot of tea follows. He pours a cup for me.

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Your tea is ready, sir.

I cannot sense any malice from the voice behind the mask. But I wonder what his mistress is like.

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What about your mistress?
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Her ladyship will be joining you in a short while. Please don't hesitate to start, unless you like your tea cold, of course.

That would be a waste... and so I took a sip. It is enriched with spices, a strange warmth suffuses down my stomach.

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This is nice.
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I'm glad to hear that sir.

He signs deeply.

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My delicate and glorious mistress is known by the name of the Dreaming Baroness.

His voice radiates a deep sense of longing.

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She has lived out most of her mortal existence and has already set sail to the deathless cities hidden in the depths of the Dreamlands. In short, unless you are dreaming, your chances of meeting my lady is slim.
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Well, I guess I won't be meeting her for tea after all?

I confess that I am a bit confused by this development so far.

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But don't you worry sir, I took all the necessary precautions. The tea that I prepared for you contains a sufficient amount of yellow lotus extract.
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Uh.. what does that do?
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It enables one to see dreams of inimitable quality, not to mention that it considerably helps with the digestion. Those dreams aren't the shallow experiences of common sleep. They're profound, enchanting visions of other realities

The assault of fanciful descriptors ending, I continue to stare at the masked man quizzically. What does he want?

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My mistress, despite her dainty and effete frame which lies dormant in the mansion, indeed owes the activeness of her manifestation in the Dreamlands to this very plant.
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Well... thank you for the tea. But what do you want from me?
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My mistress felt your presence in the dreams. She has an inkling that you may be able to help her. My mistress... how can I put it... a prisoner.
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On her journey of immortality to Sona-Nyl, she became enthralled in Thalarion, the city of daemons and miracles. It's there that you'll open your eyes to the dreams of your next sleep. I entreat you sir, save my mistress. She is my blessing.
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I'm still unclear on what I am supposed to do. You want me to dream a rescue?

The butler extends to me a snow globe.

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This is a keepsake which has been in my mistress' possession almost for the entirety of her long life.
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It may not look like much, but please remember Sir, objects may assume different properties in dreams. Especially if they hold sentimental value for their owners.

He finishes and disappears into the mansion, leaving me confused.

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I decided to pull out my case notes. I've gotten sidetracked a bit by this cup of tea.

The shadow killer case is still open.

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Wilkins' notes on the first two victims confirms that they're both immigrants and recently joined the Mob. So far there are three victims, Julian, Salvador and Abel. Only Keelan is alive.

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All four stayed in the Essex. Wilkins list of suspects pointed to three individuals.

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After interviewing both Horatio and Donna the Mute, I can safely say all three did not do it. There is no need to visit the tribals at Dead Willows. All that's left is to visit that house of specters as described by Donna. I felt a slight child recalling the poor girl's look of fear. That can wait later. I've yet to piece together what those four mobsters were up to in Arkham. Room 303... I need to get in there. Damn that Carrion! Digging further into my pockets yielded a piece of a bill.

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Ah, now I remember. Fredkin's little project. I've already recovered the methyl alcohol for Richter, now it's just a matter of retrieving that transmitter from the warehouse. I pocket my notes and resume my walk towards Riverside.

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It appears to be a horse.

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I observe the man weeping next to the corpse. His eyes are swollen and unending stream of tears slid down his cheeks.

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How dreadful. You have my sympathy, Mister...?
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William's the name. My incompetence has killed Lucy, my dearest companion!
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She was irreplaceable, huh?
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I was a policeman sir, an incompetent one who cannot even protect his partner. People... they only hang you out to dry, throw you to the lions, sell you out. People deceive. Lucy, she never disappointed me. She was my one true friend.
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I share your pain. Loved ones are the only things that are left to us, whether man or beast.

His self pity instantly morphs into vengefulness.

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But they're dead wrong if they think I'll let them get away with this! I'll slaughter those beasts, as they slaughtered my Lucy!
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Did you catch sight of the attackers?
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It was dark so I couldn't see much, but they had the silhouettes of wretched, dare I say, dogs. And they grunted like hounds from hell.
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One among their malicious pack was waiting in the shadows, a huge hairless horror whom I believe to be the leader. That abominable monster waited on his subordinates to bring him the flesh of my innocent Lucy.
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I'll rip its heart out! I'll venture into that warehouse and compel that grotesque being to pay with its life!
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I'll be entering that place shortly and may need help facing that monster. Would you like to come along?
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Of course sir, I am truly grateful for any assistance! Lead on.

The Outsider looks at the lifeless body of the animal, then diverts his gaze to William.

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I can see that his love for the beast is turning him into a lifeless revenant, blinded by pure anger.
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Can you blame him?
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To be able to feel such a deep affection for a creature not shaped in the same form as himself... He was not simply the master of this beast of burden. He was much more.. I find it admirable.
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Yeah, this type of bond is sometimes stronger than any other. No homo. Let's move.
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RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
34 - Hunt in the Dark
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Prolonged exposure to the darkness constantly lowers sanity, it'd be foolish to press forward without a light source.

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That's some powerful tea... Hello, is there anyone here?
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We know why you've come mundane; After all, aren't dreams the most pristine mirrors of one's desires? Forget this not; It's not us who holds her captive here. It was her fears and desires which did.
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No dreamer shall leave Thalarion without confronting them. Find the reasons that imprisoned her in this garden of notions and made her assume the identity which she calls The Dreaming Baroness, so she may know them.
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Ascertain these three things that affected her most deeply in the order which they manifested from the past to the present...
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How would I know such private things?

The being falls silent.

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Goddamit.
 

RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
35 - Wake up
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Six statues surrounding one. Each representing a desire. I must identify three that affects the Baroness strongly in the order of the past to the present. I can hardly recall much details of the Baroness' life from the masked butler. Aside from that snowglobe he gave me. Oh.. that's right. He did say it changes form in dreams. I pull it out of my pocket. Somehow it stayed with me even in dreams.

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There's something ... I can hear it as I peer at the globe.

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Guess the Baroness wanted to stay young. Better solve this quick, I'm starting to get hungry.

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I begin my guess. When I get it wrong, a mental onslaught would chip at my sanity. But eventually, I picked the correct one to start with.

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A desire for new experiences started the Baroness into this path.
And then she wanted to remain young.

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Finally, she chose to dream forever due to her fear of losing everything she had learned or experienced.

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The Outsider returned to me the artifact he studied.

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My instincts were proven right. The Severed Hand should only be equipped as needed.
 

RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
36 - Shop before Dark
I left the Old Eel's and ready myself for a shopping spree.

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Then a quick trip to the pawn shop.

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And now I'm ready to return into the warehouse.

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RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
Patron
Joined
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Messages
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
38 - Over the Edge
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You have it? That's surprising. But I'm not going to question your methods, my friend. We all have our own ways of getting what we need, isn't that right?
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Can you make the formaldehyde in your lab now?
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I possess the required knowledge, but do you have the privilege of utilizing my services? That is yet to be decided.
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What do you want in return?
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Just a small favor. One of my boys, Thomas, requires a good old-fashioned slap upside the head. Since I'm too old for such vulgar behavior, could you please do it for me? He needs to be taught there are consequences for his rather abnormal behavior.
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Why don't you get your brutes to punish him?
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They tend to go a bit overboard with requests such as these, if you get my meaning.

I sighed and nodded. I'm getting tired of being lead around on these endless chores.
Richter shouts in the direction of the shop's entrance.

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Thomas! Come here, my child!

A feeble and scruffy looking boy enters the shop and approaches Richter's desk.

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Would you please turn your face to that gentleman, my dead lad?
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I ... I can't waste my goddamn time of this bullshit anymore. How could I- I swung hard. The child took the crack of my palm. He looks at me in shock, but remains silent.

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Thank you, Thomas. You can go now, my darling.

The child leaves the shop with a crimson gift bright on his face.

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That will teach him a lesson.

His thin smile is plainly visible now, with all its unpleasant associations.

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Richter, what did he do?
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Nothing. He is simply the most docile of my errand boys.

He examines my face like a rattlesnake studying a fat rodent that has stumbled upon his lair. Blood rose to my head.

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I did that. For nothing?

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Then why?! To prove a point?!
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Do you think this is a world where the good are rewarded? We sometimes have to vaccinate the good ones with the random nature of pain. Don't you agree?
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A weak justification, Richter. You're just deriving pleasure from all this, don't you?

The old man smiles wide enough to show his artificial teeth. For a moment, he looks like an old, vulturous beast in the gloomy gaslight. Sick bastard, I had to resist the urge to murder him on the spot.

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Just give me my goddamn thing.

He smiles like a serpent as he hands him the glass container full of the lurid green liquid.

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I wish the best to you and your fetii...heheh

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I started working on Richter's lab bench.

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Making six doses. It's probably the only thing that will retain my sanity at this point. This goddamn city wants to tear my values to pieces. I won't let them have it! I won't! I finished my business, walked up to Rathsack's to procure a piece of outfit before climbing up to the third floor of the Essex.

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I consumed the drug, letting my mind clear for once prior to the chaos that is about to unfold. I slammed my palm against room 303's door. Pistol at the ready.

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ROOM SERVICE! FUCK FACE!
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Kabas

Arcane
Patron
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Messages
1,258
A lot of running around doing typical rpg chores from what i see, but there is indeed a few interesting things here and there.
This whole "going insane" thing looks intriguing.
 

RK47

collides like two planets pulled by gravity
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Messages
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Dead State Divinity: Original Sin
39 - Was it worth it?
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We have the motive - but it doesn't put me one step closer to finding the killers. These fools must've went after some cursed gold. And if I want to find the killers, I have to head over to the haunted house. Definitely a great way to improve Kalin's sanity.
 

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