Author Topic: *Hung on the Bar in the Drain*  (Read 884 times)


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*Hung on the Bar in the Drain*
« on: June 19, 2008, 11:13:19 AM »
*The notice is written boldly and clearly in common*

Brother Ban,


In the Tunnels are Notes that read

"Warning to unwanted Caliban"



[This is Drawn on the notice]

It is not known who is leaving these, just be cautious.

Your Soot Skin Friend


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Re: *Hung on the Bar in the Drain*
« Reply #1 on: June 19, 2008, 11:48:11 AM »
Tensions are palpable in the abandonned tunnels, Grunts are being asked to run more errands, members of the Old Crew speak, they talk of the new ways and the weakness of certain inhabitants of the Drain. Some bitterly remember the Old days, bolder ones openly make mention of the days when Old Gretch ruled the Drain with an iron gnarled fist, they remember propsperous years while they curse the rumors of truce with certain upsiders.


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Re: *Hung on the Bar in the Drain*
« Reply #2 on: June 19, 2008, 12:14:43 PM »
Perak, Old Night's imp, licked at the blood and bird feathers that were matted to his wet palm.  Old Night did not take the recent news well.  Old Night loathed living in the sewers, but was the only safe haven for a wretch like him.  Perak's wings spread out, fanning the air, lifting himself before Old Night.  The imp's head swiveled side to side, serpent like, and then, as if having recieved some unverbal command, some form of intangible communication, the imp concealed himself within an illusion and flew towards the abandonned tunnels. 

Old Night remained in the Drain, nostrils flaring, one eye sewn shut with molding stiches, as his one working eye rolled back into his head as he entered a transe.  Dry cracked lips parted and spoke words slowly as droll began to fall to the Drain floor, "Two....eyes are what....third eye....pryed wide.....doth sees."


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Re: *Hung on the Bar in the Drain*
« Reply #3 on: June 19, 2008, 03:22:21 PM »
Motherly figure, the thick Gwendoline the singer reads aloud the sign to those that could not read the symbols of letters, soothing voice reminding them softly to beware the top-siders if they were to meet in the fetid tunnels. She had no more tears for those that ended impaled or devoured because of their foolishness, Calibans had their justifiable revenge on humanity that forced them down below, yet she cried on her own fate and those she cared for, there would never be a true haven where moon's light replaces the stone and humid ceiling.

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