Port-à-Lucine - Quartier Ouvrier

[Gaston La Stache]

Rumors have begun to swirl among the denizens of Quartier Ouvrier. Under the cover of darkness, shadowy figures have been seen moving large crates through the winding alleys. Whispers among the local commoners hint at an increase in smuggling activity, with speculation pointing to the involvement of various clandestine groups.

[Madame Trousers Son]

Yet another round of De Sauvre Foundation agents purchasing & forgiving bad debt descend upon the Ouvrier, perhaps such charity attempting to purchase absolution... for a brief time, the crushing debt and squalor is lifted before the tide of misery resumes its peak.

((Thanks DM Indolence! ))

[MsDianaQueen]

As dawn begins to rise again in Port-a-Lucine, the gruesome sight of a harlot woman who's been had their chest viciously ripped open. Sinew and bone are scattered around, and upon closer inspection, it seems they have teeth marks on them. Several organs are noticeably missing, though one would wonder, where did they go? ((OOC: Scenes placed IG))

[Malvado]

Through the shrouded veil of the night, the district slumbers in uneasy silence. The treacherous paths of the poorer quarter, where shadows plot and danger festers, are disturbed by the deliberate cadence of steel-clad boots striking unforgiving stone. Each resounding step heralds a grim vigil—a harbinger of reckoning.

Two figures emerge, clad in dark armor adorned with cruel spikes, their forms radiating menace. Their presence is an unspoken decree, a herald of judgment. As they traverse the labyrinth of alleys, the quiet dealings of criminal desperation are sundered by the merciless symphony of violence. Justice, swift and unyielding, is delivered to those bold or foolish enough to stand in defiance. Blades sing their song of finality, and blood flows freely, tracing the cracks of the cobbled roads like tributaries to an unholy river.

And yet, as swiftly as it begins, the tumult subsides. The streets are hushed once more, save for the distant whispers of dread. The two Banites stand sentinel at the heart of the Ouvrier, their piercing gazes cutting through the gloom. They are unyielding, an ominous bastion against the festering evils that gnaw at the city's soul—a darkness greater still, standing against the abyss.

In their wake, the streets bear the scars of retribution, and the air hangs heavy with a singular truth: where the faithful tread, no sin shall go unpunished.