Locke had been away from RhyDin for four years. He was all too aware, having been a resident of the fair city for much of his life previously, that things here could change in a blink of an eye. City blocks appeared, disappeared, reappeared, and changed locations with no rhyme or reason. People came, went, and came back in the span of a day. The only thing that was certain about RhyDin was taxes, a shadow government, and the incompetence of the city guards. Even life and death itself seemed to hold little sway over the land.
He had been reorienting himself to the city in the week or so since he had returned home again, living in his family's apartment. Locke wasn't quite sure where they were: could be the Nexus took them who knows where, or they could be on vacation. Whatever it was, it seemed like they had made plans to stay away for a while. They'd stopped mail delivery, and cleaned everything up. Within the first day, he grew bored of being alone, and started walking through all the neighborhoods, seeing if anything was familiar. Of course, most of it wasn't, but he'd gotten a chance to see the worlds-famous Red Dragon Inn, the Outback, the Marketplace, The Great Hall, the Clock Tower, and the other touristy sights of Rhydin, or those that were still left at least. Locke had also ventured into the docks and the West End, where some of the other places he'd lived at, with and without his family, were. Isolated cleaning crews were still there, working on some of the minor damage from the month-old zombie attacks. A smooth tongue and some well-placed coppers got some of the kids and beggars in those neighborhoods to fill him in on the details. All that was left was the newspapers.
Most of the newspapers had scanty information, or were mostly the opinions of various crankpots and blowhards in the city, but many of them seemed to reference The Oracle, a new monthly paper. Or new to him at least. So there's a paper of record in this realm now? Interesting. After one long night at the Inn that had bled into the early morning hours, Locke noticed a young newsboy lugging around a bundle of Oracles. He convinced the lad to sell him the considerably outdated news for half the street value, and then paid the lad the difference in exchange for directions to the office. Surprisingly close to the Inn, he thought to himself, as he started walking down the main road there. A nice, cold shower will have to wait.
The building was unassuming, but the hustle and bustle of newsboys, reporters, editors, and other staffers trying to meet the November issue's deadline was palpable once he stepped through the front doors. Fortunately, it was early enough in the day that there wasn't anybody in line at the receptionists' desk. He rang the bell, and then called out to whoever was there.
?I'm here to see if I can pick up some back issues of The Oracle. From the last four years, if you have them.? He stood there, a little rumpled from the late night out but still dressed finely in a burgundy button-up dress shirt, black dress slacks, patent leather shoes, and fleece gloves. He carried what seemed like a bowling ball bag, and a mischievous smile crossed his pale blue face as he waited. If they don't see me fast enough, I may just have to ?borrow? the papers myself, he thought, smirking.
He had been reorienting himself to the city in the week or so since he had returned home again, living in his family's apartment. Locke wasn't quite sure where they were: could be the Nexus took them who knows where, or they could be on vacation. Whatever it was, it seemed like they had made plans to stay away for a while. They'd stopped mail delivery, and cleaned everything up. Within the first day, he grew bored of being alone, and started walking through all the neighborhoods, seeing if anything was familiar. Of course, most of it wasn't, but he'd gotten a chance to see the worlds-famous Red Dragon Inn, the Outback, the Marketplace, The Great Hall, the Clock Tower, and the other touristy sights of Rhydin, or those that were still left at least. Locke had also ventured into the docks and the West End, where some of the other places he'd lived at, with and without his family, were. Isolated cleaning crews were still there, working on some of the minor damage from the month-old zombie attacks. A smooth tongue and some well-placed coppers got some of the kids and beggars in those neighborhoods to fill him in on the details. All that was left was the newspapers.
Most of the newspapers had scanty information, or were mostly the opinions of various crankpots and blowhards in the city, but many of them seemed to reference The Oracle, a new monthly paper. Or new to him at least. So there's a paper of record in this realm now? Interesting. After one long night at the Inn that had bled into the early morning hours, Locke noticed a young newsboy lugging around a bundle of Oracles. He convinced the lad to sell him the considerably outdated news for half the street value, and then paid the lad the difference in exchange for directions to the office. Surprisingly close to the Inn, he thought to himself, as he started walking down the main road there. A nice, cold shower will have to wait.
The building was unassuming, but the hustle and bustle of newsboys, reporters, editors, and other staffers trying to meet the November issue's deadline was palpable once he stepped through the front doors. Fortunately, it was early enough in the day that there wasn't anybody in line at the receptionists' desk. He rang the bell, and then called out to whoever was there.
?I'm here to see if I can pick up some back issues of The Oracle. From the last four years, if you have them.? He stood there, a little rumpled from the late night out but still dressed finely in a burgundy button-up dress shirt, black dress slacks, patent leather shoes, and fleece gloves. He carried what seemed like a bowling ball bag, and a mischievous smile crossed his pale blue face as he waited. If they don't see me fast enough, I may just have to ?borrow? the papers myself, he thought, smirking.