Contract Work
Seventh Tower Consortium is gentrifying Six Towers out from under you
There are Imperial weapons involved
And a spooky man in a hat
Roslyn of the Dimmer Sisters is dead, but you’ve framed it on Seventh Tower Consortium!
Grace the assassin is here to:
- Kill Eckherd Deckherd
- Kill Myleria Klev of the Red Sashes
- Frame someone (the Nameless) for both of these deaths.
- Cause a brief lightning wall failure to the west
Realizing that she has overextended herself (it happens in this capitalist grindset society!), she has contacted her friend Sizzle and her divinely(?)-ordained ally Cruncho to help her out with these two jobs!
Eckherd is dead and framed in a way that will NEVER STICK IN COURT
the Crows and Black Knights are IN the city!
Valanthe has a date with Sizzle over firearms
Render is 6-8 weeks away
The Nameless are at War with Seventh Tower Consortium and sort of also the Billhooks!
The Red Sash’s leader survived an assassination attempt through an untraceable anonymous tip so you’re going into this shit with your allies intact!
Bullish Sentiment
A Message to the Shareholders of Seventh Tower Consortium, from Chairperson Ä̷̡̌Ì̷̝̂Ä̵̖̍Ì̶̹̍È̷͎̽Ì̷͙̀Ä̸̯́Ì̶̻̅È̵̝͠Ì̵̟̀Ä̶̺͂:
Greetings, esteemed board members!
As we at the Consortium look forward to a successful Q4 of 847, I’d like to take a moment to “shout out” our incredible Duskwall street team for the work they’ve been doing to shift the paradigm of Six Towers and deliver shareholder value at rates well above our expected ROI. Q3 has not been without its challenges, but I feel confident that recent developments point to bright futures ahead for our investments.
In our efforts to make the dream of Seven Towers a reality, we have partnered with a well-respected small enterprise (colloquially, the “Bill-hooks”) to expand our efforts and provide a little “on-the-ground” know-how to our operation. With their assistance, we have secured valuable dockside real estate on top of our own considerable inroads with housing acquisition within Six Towers. I can also now reveal that we have secured rights to the exciting “X8” and “Puerto Rico Strauss” brands, which will soon be synonymous with hedonism, sophistication, and heterosexuality. “Va-va-voom!”
Thanks to the continued work of our fine partners at BlackOak Securities, we have succeeded in ensuring that our holdings will be protected from certain Nameless (ha-ha!) threats to our interests in Six Towers. This includes the acquisition and distribution of literal tons of military-grade weaponry and armor, which will be used to defend our properties and development roadmaps with overwhelming force. While certain Nameless (ha-ha!) inconveniences have caused the loss of some of those shipments, and while the recent Skovlan and vampiric uprisings have caused turmoil within Duskwall, rest assured that our holdings remain untouched thanks to the diligent work of our street team and partners.
We have also partnered with several fantastic contractors to ensure the removal of certain “inconveniences”, which will synergistically be used to ensure that certain Nameless (ha-ha!) problems are removed or occupied with legal entanglements. This includes Myleria Klev (Iruvian diplomat and alleged gang leader) and Eckherd Deckherd (“noble”), ensuring that our Nameless (ha-ha!) problems will be without recourse when Phase II of our development roadmap is put into practice (UPDATE: I regret to inform you that contractor inefficiencies have failed to secure the removal of the Klev inconvenience or Nameless legal implication in the death of Eckherd Deckherd. These inefficiencies will be aggressively rectified by in-house staff).
As we enter Q4, we begin our full-fledged war on the Nameless (ha-ha!) issues that stand to slow our growth in key sectors. While the waters may be choppy, the S.S. Seventh Tower Consortium is a mighty frigate crewed by seasoned sailors. As its proud captain, I assure you that we are unsinkable, regardless of the Nameless (ha-ha) Leviathans that would capsize us. Little do they know, they will be the electroplasm that lights our lamps and propels us to a brighter tomorrow! Huzzah!
Yours respectfully,
Ä̷̡̌Ì̷̝̂Ä̵̖̍Ì̶̹̍È̷͎̽Ì̷͙̀Ä̸̯́Ì̶̻̅È̵̝͠Ì̵̟̀Ä̶̺͂
Family Reunion
Elsewhere, beneath Duskvol
The two Black Knights consider the scene before them, illuminated only by the glowing body in the temple.
“Fuckin’ creepy.” says the scruffy man, finally.
“Sure is,” agrees the sandy-haired woman, “Crows seem to fuckin’ love it though.”
The two peer into the darkness of the Dimmer Sisters’ cavern. Upon arrival, the Crows had vanished into the shadows. Where they were NOW would be anyone’s guess.
“Yeah, I’ll just bet. Never fun workin’ with them, is it?”
“Nah. You’d think after . . . how many years?”
“870? Ish? Woulda been about eight years after our wedding, so . . .”
“Yeah, you’re right. 871, then. Almost 872!”
“Heh. How ‘bout that?”
“Promised you excitement, didn’t I? Never a dull moment.”
The two settle in closer together. She puts her head on his shoulder, seemingly unbothered by the black iron armor that they’re both wearing. He puts his arm around her, threading his hand through the longbow at her back with practiced ease.
“Aaagh, I love you, Sam.”
“Love you too, Mikh. Best choice I ever made. Or-“
“Hah! Second-best. I’ll take the silver medal to the Immortal Emperor, don’t you worry.”
They sit in companionable silence for a moment, watching the play of ectoplasmic light against the ruined stone walls. When Mikh finally speaks up again, he sounds slightly hesitant.
”. . . We oughta see her, huh?”
Sam sighs and purses her lips.
“Yeaaaah, we should. Ain’t heard about how shit a mom I am in about five years. Overdue, aren’t we?”
“Yuuup. Joys of parenting. Least we’ll see . . . What’s their name now?”
“Scurlock, last I heard. He/him. Yeah, that’ll be nice, at least.”
Two Hats! Part I
The Nameless meet, hidden in an derelict building in some forgotten academic lab. The smell of dust and fumes and blood. The sound of clockwork and experiments, of fists pounding, and of the sharpening of blades. It’s cozy, in a criminal sort of way.
The meeting is certainly not “all hands on deck”, but the space IS a tad bit more crowded that usual. In truth, its less of A meeting, and more of many meetings. Things are happening in Duskvol, and when you are as disparate and leaderless as the Nameless, there are many things you can do, need to do to prepare.
When the waters rise, you can’t pick and choose what cracks to let leak.
A door slams open. A figure strides in. Linmer is an old man, typically disheveled, always meek, but today he walks with certain and purpose.
He walks directly up to Jammer, interrupting a discussion about V-Sea-FC.
His hand whips up, shoving a broad brimmed hat in her face. “Show it to me.”
Perhaps Jammer is wearing the hat. Perhaps she walks off to grab it from a bag. Perhaps she pushes Linmer to the ground in annoyance.
But the Stowaway has blinders. All he knows is that eventually, he is shown the hat Jammer stole from the “man” at the docks. He sees its brim, its fabric, its stitching, its scuffs and knicks… all identical to the hat in his hand. The hat that was left on top of him as he slept.
“Ehhh…”
Once Jammer figures out what’s going on, she scowls. “If that shady fuck thinks he’s gonna get away with paying us in hats, he’s got another think coming. Where’s he even getting the damn hats? I should take a couple of the boys out tonight and put a brick through the window of every hatmaker in Doskvol… Where’d the seascum catch you, anyways? Or was it the other way round?”
Linmer’s eyes lock onto Jammer as she speaks, evaluating. A former deckhand with a history of tossing Linmer overboard just happens to arrive in Duskvol. Just happens to join the Nameless. Just happens to survive an encounter with some hatted thing, who just happens to threaten Linmer, the same night that the Cult pretend to purge Wickhim from Linmer’s mind. ( If it had worked, then who is that in the shadows– Oh, just Giancarlo. Still!)
“…it wasn’t payment, Jammer. It was a threat. Or a promise.” To an unseen figment, he whispers, “…an offer?” “As for where, eeeehhhh, the building down the street, on 1st floor. The lock on the corner window is unlocked. Good bed in there, but I’m not sleeping there again.”
Linmer looks at Jammer and seems to see her and the crew for the first time. He smiles. “Ehhh… Don’t throw any bricks.” Comparing the hats again, he says, “Even if a hatmaker is involved, it looks like there’s just one.”
“So what’s the big deal? It’s two of the same hat.” As these hats have nothing to do with sparkcraft or mechanics, Arkin has not paid enough attention to them to notice that they are identical.
“Is this related to that ghost that you seem so worked up about?”
Looking away from Jammer to Arkin, Linmer seems to visibly relax. This is your crew, he thinks to himself with effort. You’ve never sailed with better, not for as long. Remember that. Remember!
“The Cu– ehhhhh, your friends tried to help me with that. And they said it worked! But it didn’t.” He whispers to himself, “It didn’t!”
He grips the back of a chair and adopts a wide stance, steadying himself. “The Hat Man Jammer mentioned, he was working with the Billhooks. She gave him a message, then blew up his bruisers. I don’t know what he is, ghost or demon. But he…ehhhhh… He snuck into the place I’ve been sleeping lately, and he offered to help fix me. I was…ehhhhhhh….I couldn’t move. And he left this hat–” Linmer snaps the two hats into Arkin’s face, “–which is identical to the one he left with Jammer at the warehouse, every stitch and scuff a match, from bow to stern.” Linmer looks around the room. “I don’t trust this thing. He’s up to something, and he has power. Ehh…”
He pauses, his stance rocking with an unseen wave. “I don’t… I didn’t come here with a plan. But I wanted you to know.” He looks at the faces in the room. “I needed you to know.”
“Okay.” Arkin rubs his temples. “So this is a new ghost? And its evil plot is… two identical hats? Sometimes the ghosts in this town are just annoying. Look at Hungry Steve.”
“Is he a ghost? Ghosts can’t leave physical objects behind, can they?”, Linmer asks, sincerely. “He may be a demon of some sort, or something else.”
“Linmer, when’s the last time you slept?” Arkin walks up to him like one might a raccoon trapped in a wire fence. “Maybe you just need to get a few hours rest. You can stay in my la- …you can stay in the room next to my lab.”
Linmer looks at the two hats clutched in his hands and then to Arkin. “That’s… I’d appreciate that.”
Before setting both hats down in front of Jammer, Linmer takes a moment to give them a fresh look. Are they… just two hats? Similar, but mundane?
“Linmer, these are just two of the same type of hat. They’re not identical. Let’s get you some tea. Why don’t you sit down? I think I have some chamomile tea from the ‘Oopsy Poopsy Bootsy’ debacle leftover somewhere.” Arkin walks towards the kitchen.
“No, they are the sa…” He peers at the hats again, dawning realization warring with a panicked anxiety. Finally, he place the singed hat down in front of Jammer, sets the other on a counter, and sits heavily in the chair Arkin had offered.
“Sorry, I, ehhhh…. I didn’t sleep well. And he did come to see me, I swear to that. But you’re right. These are just hats. I don’t know what he is, but these are just hats.”
“We’ll keep an eye out for him, ok?” Arkin says.
Next to most of the Nameless, Linmer looks very old. But although he plays up the facade of a slippy wicket, of a crazed and ancient man, he is in truth just over fifty years (and could even be considered quite spry when compared to some much younger men).
But sitting there, he doesn’t need to put on a show. No beard, wrinkles, or dirt could make him seem more worn, more old than simply seeing him letting down his guard, the sincere exhaustion visible through every movement, every breath.
“Yes. Thanks.”
“Sleep,” scoffs Jammer, “what’s sleep going to do? More like it’s a demon, or worse, some fuckin’ cult shit.” She crosses her arms and looks at Linmer, where Arkin is trying to move him along. “Offered you a deal, did he? Did you take it? Or is the ghost still in your head?”
At the sound of Jammer’s scoff, Linmer’s gaze snapped to her, and he visibly braced himself against the arms of his chair. With each word, Linmer seems to shrink more into his performance of “oh, don’t look at me, I’m just a broken old man.”
But with her last two questions, a life seems to surge in him.
“Never! This isn’t my first time at port, I’ve seen what these things do to people!”
Arkin turns towards Jammer. “Okay, I don’t know who you are, but don’t encourage him.” Arkin also leans into Linmer. “She’s new, right? I’m bad with distinguishing between flesh people sometimes.”
“Yes, she’s new to the crew,” Linmer says, before turning back to Jammer, “but remember, I’m no stowaway here, Jammer. This time, I’ve earned my spot. ….ehhhh, that isn’t to say, I mean…. You did good work. I don’t mean otherwise.”
“Stop discouraging him,” says Jammer to Arkin. “He says he saw the Hat Man, probably he did. Anyway, he wants to make a deal with a demon, that’s his business.” She turns back to Linmer. “No need to be touchy. Far as I see it, we’re already dealing, as is—hat guy owes us the X8 cut. If he wants to pay in ghost-wrangling, fine by me. But if he is a demon, you oughta talk to an Iruvian lawyer. And if he isn’t, you oughta—” She cuts off and frowns. “I dunno how Akorosi handle gods, but surely one of your spindly nerds will.”
“You know this hat guy also, then?” Arkin doesn’t want to upset the old man, but two is the start of a pattern. “Who is he? What do you know?”
“He showed up at the munitions warehouse after we blew it up, in charge of a group wearing Seventh Tower colors. The muscle might’ve been Imperial military, or not far from it.” She rubs at her face, thinking. At the time she’d been coming down from high bloodrage, and not bothering to try and track that whalespit’s words too closely.
“He was different. Inhuman. Polished. Entirely too pleased with himself. Spoke like he was getting paid by the word, you know the type.” She scuffs the toe of her boot into the floor. “Didn’t give a name. He said he wouldn’t pay up, and then he turned into smoke, and then his people tried to shoot me.”
The Hat Man had acted like the Nameless, and Jammer in particular, were beneath him. But he’d left before making sure she was properly dead, which was amateur hour, even if he’d left twenty-odd to do the job for him. Upper class mindset, and an over-reliance on hired help. Not to mention a tendency to monologue… “Seemed pretty set on wiping us out and building new in our place.”
Linmer nods as Jammer gives her rundown to Arkin. “Ehhhh… I don’t like this, having a new haunt join in right as everything else is coming to a head. Jammer saw him just…disappear, and I saw him freeze me in– Wait, I had been sleeping, so maybe he can ride dreams? He could be a psychonaut! …no, no, then he wouldn’t have left the hat. Ehhh….”
Linmer notices himself falling down the “ghost theory” rabbithole, but after the others also notice. He runs his fingers through his beard.
“Whatever he can or can’t do, those hats are a clue. A physical, mundane clue. If he can find us, we need to be able to find him.”
“And he might be an Imperial.” Arkin perches on the edge of a table, seemingly lost in thought. “We need to be careful. We don’t want to draw too much attention from them. We can’t afford to be openly seditious. Though if he’s already going for blood it might be too late to avoid that.”
As “careful” leaves Arkin’s lips, Linmer’s eyes briefly dart to Jammer. “Ehhhh…”
“Well, as long as he doesn’t announce that he’s imperial… plausible deniability? …I suppose that not going to stop them from retaliating, though.”
Linmer, Arkin, and Jammer continue the conversation for a little while. Other Nameless mill about. Occasionally one may lean over to listen in, maybe asking for a quick explanation of this new enemy. Most, though, are wrapped up in their own work, are dealing with their own threats (hatted or otherwise).
Eventually, Linmer sighs and offers a grim but appreciative smile to Jammer. Arkin clasps his shoulder reassuringly, and the three part ways.