Well... it's a page. Even though the options are under a spoiler. Not sure what to make of this, but I'll treat it as a vote.
[x] [Almanack] On the City in the Pit
[x] [Story] Visit and explore Irontown, following that smell, then take the train or bridge or whatever directly to Great Men and get on with it.
Apologies for the confusion, all details regarding the Almanac pages should be in the spoiler now. They will not be replacing ordinary updates, only supplementing them, and details for separating them from the story votes are now included in that post.
[X] [Story] Cross the Rise, seeing the rest of what that island has to offer beyond the station and the Embassy, then get to Great Men from there.
[X] [Almanack] On the City in the Pit
[X] [Story] Cross the Rise, seeing the rest of what that island has to offer beyond the station and the Embassy, then get to Great Men from there.
[X] [Almanack] On the City in the Pit
[X] Visit and explore Irontown, following that smell, then take the train or bridge or whatever directly to Great Men and get on with it.
You've come this far, and Irontown smells and looks promising. You might as well continue all the way, and see what can be seen. Dial didn't give you a clear deadline, but you can still get a lot done today before you start needing sleep or food again, so why not? That long bridge can take you directly to Great Men, and you've never liked backtracking. Best choice.
Mind and heart resolved, you examine the bridge--the trains probably require money, as do the various conveyance machines and ferries, but there's a section of it dedicated to foot traffic.
There's a booth nearby the entrance to the footbridge, which is covered--strange choice in a cave--labeled TOLLS, but it's unoccupied, and why wait around for someone to come take stuff you don't have? Whistling tunelessly, you stroll past the tollbooth and start walking down the bridge, heading towards Irontown at a decent but unhurried pace. You've got long legs and all afternoon, no need to rush.
The foot-traffic section of the bridge is below the train and vehicle roads and closer to the water, which makes it an odd combination of noisy as the trains clatter by overhead and serene with the warm lighting and placid waters below. Overhead is a metal roof with intermittent glassed-in skylights, and the sides are fenced in with low metal railings and the odd metal pillar every few dozen meters, each topped with a gas lamp that sheds pleasantly low, warm light onto the interior of the bridge.
Not many other people have chosen this road alongside you, and they're few and far between--an Erzan with a satchel full of books, running full-tilt past you towards the Rise, a pair of laughing human women with rifles on their backs, walking ahead of you some distance, a Teuthis with flashing bioluminescence and an orange tabard scuttling across the ceiling, and a Fourth Treatment who towers a good foot above you, wearing a cloak decorated with thick ruffs of feathers and a wide-brimmed, high-pointed hat. You pass this latter one and keep moving, relieved that you don't smell any intent related to yourself, and eventually the bridge ends, in a wide trapezoidal landing at the edge of the island of Irontown.
Irontown is a thin ring of well-stamped dirt, natural stone, concrete and docks around a core of massive factories and smithies rising in tiers towards the middle, and a few steps onto the island you can feel the heat bloom against your face. The air is filled with the smells of hot metal, sweat, booze, machinery, oil smoke, and the grimy, banked aggression of strong people doing hard work and unfriendly towards the ideas of outsiders or being interrupted. The roads are wide and sturdy as they rise in long ramps, with mechanical vehicles, Mimic carts, and burly stevedores bearing cargo up towards the center and down towards the water.
Large signs, lit with more of that glowing tubing, declare the various businesses you can see from here: VILE PRAWN USED GOODS AND PAWN, THE SMOKE EEL: RED GOLD GREY, CONTINENTAL UNION-ECHO mounted above smaller buildings near the shore, MIRAK BODY CORPORATE, BARIQ ARMAMENT CONCERN, HARBINGER AND REDSTONE on some of the factories and larger buildings.
You pace around the edge, and it becomes obvious that Irontown is built on three tiers--warehouses, businesses, and short towers on the outside near the docks, larger factories and smithies above them, and truly massive foundries and bunkers rising from the center, all busily pouring smoke and embers into the air. The bridge to Great Men starts in the southeast, almost obscured by one of the MIRAK BODY CORPORATE buildings. They've got a few.
This place is teeming with options, and you feel your smile growing. So much opportunity here!
Three will be chosen.
[ ] Investigate Vile Prawn.
[ ] Investigate the Smoke Eel.
[ ] Investigate Continental Union-Echo.
[ ] Investigate Mirak Body Corporate.
[ ] Investigate Bariq Armament Concern.
[ ] Investigate Harbinger and Redstone.
[ ] That Fourth is walking along the shore. Shadow them.
[ ] There's a few, you guess you'd call them squares, hollow spots in the madness where people talk and trade. Go loiter there to see what you can hear.
[ ] Walk up the roads towards the center.
[X] Investigate Bariq Armament Concern.
[X] There's a few, you guess you'd call them squares, hollow spots in the madness where people talk and trade. Go loiter there to see what you can hear.
[x] Investigate Vile Prawn.
[x] That Fourth is walking along the shore. Shadow them.
[x] There's a few, you guess you'd call them squares, hollow spots in the madness where people talk and trade. Go loiter there to see what you can hear.
How could we possibly skip checking on something called "Vile Prawn"?
[X] Investigate Bariq Armament Concern.
[x] There's a few, you guess you'd call them squares, hollow spots in the madness where people talk and trade. Go loiter there to see what you can hear.
[x] That Fourth is walking along the shore. Shadow them.
The city known as IASH QOMA has long had a relationship with our own city of VESPERGREN. It is the greatest evidence thinkers of other nations have that we are not the threat that others would believe us to be. Vesakh helped found Qoma, pilgrims from the three great territories, but those from Shallow Graves and the Everbore rejected their home countries in order to make Iash Qoma their new home. Only the settlers from Vespergren remained loyal enough to the spires of home to engage in diplomacy, to claim status as representatives of the Queen in Rags and open up what would the strongest non-antagonistic relationship any Vesakh state has had with any other. Qoma is a city with Locusts but not of them, remaining unique in this regard. Our people's populations in even great cities like Pandemonium, Dis, Iad Ekrekesh, Mhar Zirax, are seen as transient, calling no place home but just passing through. Only in Qoma do we call somewhere outside the jealous gaze of Xhaal home. Remember this--we do not have to belong to Xhaal. The world has homes for us, if only we are as strong and doughty in extending friendly hands as we are in offering thieving grasps or scouring claws.
In Vespergren, strength is the law. I am certain you have been scarred or battered because you were not skilled enough to avoid the reprisal of a higher-Treatment Vesakh for your incautiousness. In Qoma, strength is also the law, but they have other laws. Those who steal and kill and destroy are not protected by their own might, but become targets for the Law, who enforce the way they believe the world should be with strength of arms and lists of crimes. The weak are exploited, yes, but they are also protected. I tell you this because you must know that nothing is ever between you and your tormentor or your victim. In the outside world, they watch what you do, and for every one that minds their business there are a dozen eager to inform you that you are, in fact, their business. And in Iash Qoma, the law is partially enforced by Vesakh. You cannot expect to remain under the radar for not looking like much of a threat. The strong will involve themselves in your business on a pretext. But if you can survive and thrive under the Law, you can do anything. No. That is not true. But you can do more, and you will have a better chance of getting to the end of this book.
There are secrets in Iash Qoma, that will help you decipher more of this book. You will need to find them to have any hope of reaching the final page.
A final caution. If Verdugo is there, tread lightly. There are many things that I might be dead of by the time this is read. I lay 1 in 4 odds it's Verdugo.
[ ] On the Meteor Children
[ ] On the Gunpowder People
[ ] On the False-Shelled Lurkers
[ ] On the Hellfire Countries
[ ] On Lucre and Tribute
[x] Investigate Continental Union-Echo.
[x] Investigate Mirak Body Corporate.
[x] There's a few, you guess you'd call them squares, hollow spots in the madness where people talk and trade. Go loiter there to see what you can hear.
[X] Investigate Vile Prawn.
[X] Investigate Mirak Body Corporate.
[X] Investigate Bariq Armament Concern.
[X] Investigate Harbinger and Redstone.
[X] There's a few, you guess you'd call them squares, hollow spots in the madness where people talk and trade. Go loiter there to see what you can hear.
[X] On the Gunpowder People
I would rather not try to shadow a Vesakh much more powerful than Grail. The Locusts are not exactly nice and gentle people.
[X] Investigate Vile Prawn.
[X] Investigate Bariq Armament Concern.
[X] There's a few, you guess you'd call them squares, hollow spots in the madness where people talk and trade. Go loiter there to see what you can hear.
You've got an agenda in mind. With plenty of time to do important things but little to waste, it'll be a good idea to scope out what, exactly, Irontown has to offer. And what better place to start than the one with the sign you find the funniest? Many, probably, but you're in charge of this little adventure. The Vile Prawn has a sign depicting a shrimp smoking a cigar and holding a knife, and that's just delightful. How could you not check it out?
Hopping up the steps from landing to store porch, you duck into the Prawn, a low-ceilinged structure with wooden walls, steel pillars, and oil lighting, walls covered with old wanted posters and shelves bearing a cluttered mess of goods. It smells like cigar smoke, pickles and gun oil, plus the assorted tinges of dirt, grease, booze, sweat, desperation and greed rising from the handful of simply-clad, weary-looking citizens browsing at the same time as you. Everyone here has a certain sooty, muscular, hard-done-by look, something you can only imagine comes from employment in the ubiquitous foundries and factories. Behind the counter looms what looks like a mannequin or giant puppet, dressed in layers of old clothing and wearing an enormous backpack, but you can smell Mimic on it, the claws snaking out from the backpack to manipulate the puppet body. When its eyestalk lands on you, it waves, and a few of the customers turn to regard you wearily before returning to their business. "Welcome to the Vile Prawn, new prospective customer! Here to buy, sell or both?" The voice is high and a little liquid, warbling and trilling like a cricket in a tin bowl of water.
(One will be chosen.)
[ ] Sell
[ ] Buy
[ ] Both
[ ] Neither
...
With your business concluded at the Prawn, still dwelling on your dealings, you leave, and head for the next encounter on your list. One of those little squares, a circular widening in the road with buildings towering on every side, is just past the Vile Prawn, with a Bariq building on the other side, and you lean up against a wall and open up your ears, waiting for interesting things to fall in. People buy and sell food, cigarettes and cigars, packets of Roshan Blue and flasks of booze, rolled-up magazines and little wood or metal boxes, a sort of open market where people constantly trade little material comforts for different ones or for handfuls of coin.
(Up to three will be chosen, outcome is random. Approval voting.)
[ ] Trade away some bullets. (-8 bullets)
[ ] Trade away some of the miscellaneous tools. (-2 Tools)
[ ] Trade away your emergency snacks. (-Rainy Day Rations)
[ ] Listen for leads.
[ ] Listen for gossip.
[ ] Just visit the Bariq building.
Dunno why 1.12 was really hard for me to read because of the paragraph size while Almanack 2 wasn't, but it was. Could you break up 1.12's paragraphs a bit, on behalf of my unexpectedly poor eyes?
I've run into a few issues around the old homestead, nothing serious, but the new update will probably come out tomorrow or the day after. Both votes will remain open until then, and see you soon!
We are working on getting cash, which should give us something to work with. We are on a timer, so it'll have to be done soon, and if it isn't, we'll have worse things to worry about.
Hey, stepping in for some quick clarifications: by "both votes" I mean the Almanack vote is also undecided, so that's open too, and choosing to sell at the Vile Prawn means that you'll be selling something like a weapon, your coat, or one of the other significant items, rather than the petty costs of square trading!
Hey, stepping in for some quick clarifications: by "both votes" I mean the Almanack vote is also undecided, so that's open too, and choosing to sell at the Vile Prawn means that you'll be selling something like a weapon, your coat, or one of the other significant items, rather than the petty costs of square trading!
[X] Browse, maybe buy
[X] Listen for leads.
[X] Listen for gossip.
[X] Just visit the Bariq building.
Inside the Vile Prawn, you had spent some time browsing the shelves, seeing if anything caught your eyes. There was no unifying theme to the goods on sale other than the faint scents of wear, distaste and/or desperation, indicating they'd seen at least one owner before, and one who for various reasons couldn't keep them. Coats and cloaks hung from rows of hooks, many of which bore an exciting assortment of mystery stains, tribunals of mannequin heads bearing hats, helmets and goggles ranging from sensible oilskin or leather rainfoilers to ridiculous confections of velvet or silk that look like they couldn't even handle a small amount of bile, serried ranks of umbrellas, swords, and battered rifles stuffed into barrels. There's even two shelves stuffed full of books, books that look somewhat the worse for wear but are neither torn apart for tinder or full of frenzied journal entries, which makes them entirely unfamiliar to you. You examine the books, but are disappointed--none of them appear to make much sense at all, dealing with ridiculous people that do entirely implausible things for reasons that escape you, and that's just the ones written in Continental script. Somewhat understandably, none have been written in Ashvakrev.
Giving up the bookshelf for now, you give the shop another once-over. The most attractive item is a jezail of gilt wood and bone steel hung up above the counter, but with your nonexistent funds and serviceable but uninspiring weaponry, you doubt you could trade for it. As you turn to leave, instinct makes you turn your head--the Mimic is right there at your shoulder, its approach silent. "You're a Locust, yeah? Remember in the course of your wanderings, that the Vile Prawn does not ask questions about interesting merchandise! We must support our cousins from the East, after all!"
Before you can reply, it's gone, retreating rapidly back to the safety of its desk. You just nod as you leave. No questions asked, huh? You might just be able to work with that.
You don't want to trade away any of your limited resources, right now--sure, you're currently as poor as you've ever been, but in a money economy that actually means something, and you want to have better security of resources before you resort to actually exchanging goods and services. So that leaves one of the most familiar transactions, a trade you've made time and again--your stealth and discretion for overheard intel and gossip. You've made more than a few halfway decent scores just by lurking and waiting to hear something interesting. With that in mind, you wade through the crowded square, find a pillar to lean up against, fish a gyurma out of your bag, and chew meditatively as you wait for interesting tidbits to coalesce from the tangled mess of conversation all around you.
It doesn't take long.
Through the mix of people discussing sex, money, or the hardships of working in a foundry, several important themes emerge above the dross of random gossip, differing only in the language and phrasing of the speaker.
"You hear about the ghost in Bariq 09's basement? Yeah, that guy who fell into the crucible apparently isn't lying easy. My cousin's fiancee's niece said she heard all about it from a guy at the tavern..."
"More of those godsdamned glassmen are showing up around here. Law thinks they're gonna catch the Longwinter Bomber by randomly raiding the clubs and bars... here, I know a guy who can get us glass knives..."
"Johann's brother's boyfriend's cousin's post got whacked, you heard? The Shark General is on the march again... don't say he's another tall tale, I saw him..."
Those same sentiments, repeated over and over with only the witness's identity and the density of profanity, reach your ears through the clamor of the square. While you can't pretend to know all the particulars, they all sound worth following up on. Something to go after when you have more time, for sure. You swallow the last of your gyurma and head for the next stop on your little tour.
The Bariq building is a tall brick slab of a structure, topped with metal tanks and smokestacks, and painted with streaks of soot artlessly splashed over the small, square windows. Just below the lip of the roof in brushed steel letters are the words BARIQ ARMAMENT CONCERN, and just above the battered steel double-doors are the numerals 08. You push your way in.
Beyond is... not a room. It has a wooden floor, several uncomfortable-looking chairs, and a horseshoe-shaped desk behind which sits a human man with a bored expression, and there are doors with signs like "FACTORY FLOOR" and "EMPLOYEE LOUNGE" on them, but there are no walls. Beyond the bounds of the wooden floor, the floor becomes poured concrete, metal stairs and ladders wind up to a series of catwalks and bridges high above, and beyond the desk are rows of machines, vast and sooty and menacing, pouring hot metal, belching smoke, and producing heavy slamming, rolling, rumbling, and punching noises. People in heavy coveralls or leather aprons scale the ladders and prowl the catwalks, shuttling wheelbarrows full of metal widgets or crumbling piles of coke here and there. The foyer, without walls, becomes like an island in a sea of industry. Looking around, you approach the desk, and the human looks up from his magazine and barks "Welcome to Bariq Armament Concern 08, etc etc, whaddaya want?"
[ ] Just looking around, don't mind me.
[ ] Looking for work, have anything for me?
[ ] Looking for armaments, isn't that your concern?
