"...Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win." Stephen King
It had taken Mister Figgins some time to acclimate to Rhy"Din. On his first night he'd found himself at the Red Dragon Inn. Less than an hour spent inside the place and Figgins realized his mistake. It seems in this realm inns are more like brothels then they are about rooms-to-let. Not interested in the corrupted areas of the city, Figgins sought a more comfortable local to turn into his Rhy"Din home base.
It had taken nearly two weeks of wandering the city streets (and spending more time than he'd cared to confess utterly lost) before he finally found a room to rent in a neighborhood that didn't give him the willies. Lady Bartleton's Abby Grange was perfect. It reminded Figgins of home what with the familiar manse names and the lovely interior decor. Located somewhere in the north-east quadrant of the city which meant that the inn/brothel wasn't very far away in fact merely a few blocks or so. Everything a person could need was conveniently located nearby. Figgins was pleased with the choice but even more pleased with the youthful Lady Bartleton. He couldn't have asked for a better steward.
Still, he had yet to unearth Mister Howe and some kind of viral outbreak had rung chaos down on the township.
More weeks of wanderings, and Figgins information on Rhy"Din had blossomed. He understood that his original supposition that gold was valueless was erroneous. The girl in the inn, whose name he never was offered, had misled him with her nonchalance toward his offer of payment for her assistance. Gold, silver, copper were all commodities of the realm. Interesting that on his first night in the inn he had assumed otherwise but even that unfortunate event was being reprocessed and re-cataloged.
Apparently many cultures merge in Rhy"Din due to the fluctuations of the Nexus. Figgins wasn't quite sure how the nexus worked however, and had already determined more studies would be required before any decisions concerning its relevance could be concluded. The merging of so many cultures created a myriad of social structures that could prove difficult to fathom. From what Figgins had been able to determine so far was that the morals, ethics, personal values commonly shifted with the influences of the current trends. The Inn was indeed an Inn, but what he witnessed wasn't business transactions of doxies and patrons but merely the mating rituals of a less morally strict (i.e. sinful) culture.
The outbreak on the other hand worried Figgins. The township's governor reported a vaccine, but what other biological threats lurked" They would have to be very, very careful with their personnel if the need arose.
It was safe to conclude that Rhy"Din would prove challenging for his fellow COPE members on multiple levels. For optimum acclimation all members assigned to Project Crones and intended to be stationed in Rhy"Din should be properly schooled on the city's peculiar cultural diversities. Figgins realized the strong possibility that even with education many would find Rhy"Din distasteful and hard to adjust to nevertheless. Mingling, socializing with the public on any level would have to be restricted to a select few. Obviously they would all need to be monitored for any potential virus or bacteria. His best hope would be they accomplish their task quickly so they needn't linger long.
Inspiration comes in many ways. Figgins knew this only too well. He could use their dislike of the place and the threat of plagues to speed up processing.
Besides, from his cursory overview so far, there weren't many pure souls left in Rhy"Din. Too many seemed tainted by the blood of other races. The most common from Figgins observations were fay, demonic, and angelic. It's the height of absurdity really. All those races had long ago been eradicated from his world. Apparently they managed to survive and have sewn their seeds throughout this realm. The news won't impress the Elders, but Figgins knew a few scientists that would relish this information. He'd already sent out notes to them and some expert mythologists he'd befriended just in case of situations like his current one.
Always best to be prepared.
Preparation required multiple talents. A good investigator knew that any asset was something to be nurtured, and any information was better than none.
As was the case with the Lady Bartleton; Figgins took his time interrogating the girl. He didn't care to stoop to torture or any other such brute tactic, no; he preferred to charm it out of her. Of course, that inferred time invested. Figgins didn't mind the time as long as it paid off.
And so it was that the young Lady Bartleton began taking afternoon tea with the handsome and mysterious Mister Figgins. Lady Bartleton was an avid gossip and dearly enjoyed sharing every juicy tidbit she could muster up. Figgins was only too happy to oblige the Lady, allowing her to drip every drop into his ever so attentive ears.
Still, Mister Howe was not even a murmur off those rose-colored lips of the youthful Lady Bartleton.
Figgins could have drawn assumptions from this information, but the realm had already slapped him down once for misreading the atmosphere of the inn. Therefore, Figgins refrained from jumping to any sort of conclusion for the time being. At least until he was able to gain more reliable data upon which to build his suppositions. The Lady did enjoy regaling Figgins with tales of the rich and powerful of the city. There seemed no shortage of scandalous and outrageous behavior some far more torrid than what he'd personally witnessed in the inn that first night. Indeed it appeared to Figgins a focal point of the community the shocking lack of manners and the retelling of unsavory gossip. Not surprising as even in his world such things held mass appeal.
What Figgins learned from the na've and young Lady Bartleton was encouraging. Rhy"Din had little to no effective law enforcements. Their social caste system allowed for easy dominance over the poor and desolate. And there would be few willing to waste time to stop any incursion as the most "powerful" of the community preferred 'dating and drinking" to almost everything else.
Of course, he will wait on his meeting with Mister Howe before refining any potential plans of invasion. However, everything hinged on Howe's response to the COPE's demands. If Howe agreed to meet their new quota of pure souls, (if Howe can even find any left in Rhy"Din what with the aliens and the outbreaks), then all Figgins" hard work was for naught. Figgins truly hoped this would be the case, for Rhy"Din held hurdles he wasn't sure his fellow members would be able to jump.
And then, as if by divine intervention, an article in the RhyDin Post changed everything...
To Be Continued...
It had taken Mister Figgins some time to acclimate to Rhy"Din. On his first night he'd found himself at the Red Dragon Inn. Less than an hour spent inside the place and Figgins realized his mistake. It seems in this realm inns are more like brothels then they are about rooms-to-let. Not interested in the corrupted areas of the city, Figgins sought a more comfortable local to turn into his Rhy"Din home base.
It had taken nearly two weeks of wandering the city streets (and spending more time than he'd cared to confess utterly lost) before he finally found a room to rent in a neighborhood that didn't give him the willies. Lady Bartleton's Abby Grange was perfect. It reminded Figgins of home what with the familiar manse names and the lovely interior decor. Located somewhere in the north-east quadrant of the city which meant that the inn/brothel wasn't very far away in fact merely a few blocks or so. Everything a person could need was conveniently located nearby. Figgins was pleased with the choice but even more pleased with the youthful Lady Bartleton. He couldn't have asked for a better steward.
Still, he had yet to unearth Mister Howe and some kind of viral outbreak had rung chaos down on the township.
More weeks of wanderings, and Figgins information on Rhy"Din had blossomed. He understood that his original supposition that gold was valueless was erroneous. The girl in the inn, whose name he never was offered, had misled him with her nonchalance toward his offer of payment for her assistance. Gold, silver, copper were all commodities of the realm. Interesting that on his first night in the inn he had assumed otherwise but even that unfortunate event was being reprocessed and re-cataloged.
Apparently many cultures merge in Rhy"Din due to the fluctuations of the Nexus. Figgins wasn't quite sure how the nexus worked however, and had already determined more studies would be required before any decisions concerning its relevance could be concluded. The merging of so many cultures created a myriad of social structures that could prove difficult to fathom. From what Figgins had been able to determine so far was that the morals, ethics, personal values commonly shifted with the influences of the current trends. The Inn was indeed an Inn, but what he witnessed wasn't business transactions of doxies and patrons but merely the mating rituals of a less morally strict (i.e. sinful) culture.
The outbreak on the other hand worried Figgins. The township's governor reported a vaccine, but what other biological threats lurked" They would have to be very, very careful with their personnel if the need arose.
It was safe to conclude that Rhy"Din would prove challenging for his fellow COPE members on multiple levels. For optimum acclimation all members assigned to Project Crones and intended to be stationed in Rhy"Din should be properly schooled on the city's peculiar cultural diversities. Figgins realized the strong possibility that even with education many would find Rhy"Din distasteful and hard to adjust to nevertheless. Mingling, socializing with the public on any level would have to be restricted to a select few. Obviously they would all need to be monitored for any potential virus or bacteria. His best hope would be they accomplish their task quickly so they needn't linger long.
Inspiration comes in many ways. Figgins knew this only too well. He could use their dislike of the place and the threat of plagues to speed up processing.
Besides, from his cursory overview so far, there weren't many pure souls left in Rhy"Din. Too many seemed tainted by the blood of other races. The most common from Figgins observations were fay, demonic, and angelic. It's the height of absurdity really. All those races had long ago been eradicated from his world. Apparently they managed to survive and have sewn their seeds throughout this realm. The news won't impress the Elders, but Figgins knew a few scientists that would relish this information. He'd already sent out notes to them and some expert mythologists he'd befriended just in case of situations like his current one.
Always best to be prepared.
Preparation required multiple talents. A good investigator knew that any asset was something to be nurtured, and any information was better than none.
As was the case with the Lady Bartleton; Figgins took his time interrogating the girl. He didn't care to stoop to torture or any other such brute tactic, no; he preferred to charm it out of her. Of course, that inferred time invested. Figgins didn't mind the time as long as it paid off.
And so it was that the young Lady Bartleton began taking afternoon tea with the handsome and mysterious Mister Figgins. Lady Bartleton was an avid gossip and dearly enjoyed sharing every juicy tidbit she could muster up. Figgins was only too happy to oblige the Lady, allowing her to drip every drop into his ever so attentive ears.
Still, Mister Howe was not even a murmur off those rose-colored lips of the youthful Lady Bartleton.
Figgins could have drawn assumptions from this information, but the realm had already slapped him down once for misreading the atmosphere of the inn. Therefore, Figgins refrained from jumping to any sort of conclusion for the time being. At least until he was able to gain more reliable data upon which to build his suppositions. The Lady did enjoy regaling Figgins with tales of the rich and powerful of the city. There seemed no shortage of scandalous and outrageous behavior some far more torrid than what he'd personally witnessed in the inn that first night. Indeed it appeared to Figgins a focal point of the community the shocking lack of manners and the retelling of unsavory gossip. Not surprising as even in his world such things held mass appeal.
What Figgins learned from the na've and young Lady Bartleton was encouraging. Rhy"Din had little to no effective law enforcements. Their social caste system allowed for easy dominance over the poor and desolate. And there would be few willing to waste time to stop any incursion as the most "powerful" of the community preferred 'dating and drinking" to almost everything else.
Of course, he will wait on his meeting with Mister Howe before refining any potential plans of invasion. However, everything hinged on Howe's response to the COPE's demands. If Howe agreed to meet their new quota of pure souls, (if Howe can even find any left in Rhy"Din what with the aliens and the outbreaks), then all Figgins" hard work was for naught. Figgins truly hoped this would be the case, for Rhy"Din held hurdles he wasn't sure his fellow members would be able to jump.
And then, as if by divine intervention, an article in the RhyDin Post changed everything...
To Be Continued...