Kevin's Watch

Please post stories taking place in the Sinestadt slums here

A short walk up river reveals to Louis that the only war across the Curgesing is the ferry he used when he first entered the city. (1 shilling)

After crossing, he heads downstream, along the river bank towards the light house. To his left, the dark green waters of the river flow, rubbish and debris floating on its surface. Passing more docks and warehouse, the highway south soon passes through the slums.

Leaving the road so as to get closer to the river bank, Louis is soon trudging through filthy mud streets with the dregs of society around him. Filth covered children play in the streets, as cheap whores pedal their wares and beggars reach with hands upturned. Life is cheap here, and living standards cheaper. Just being around these people makes Louis feel dirtier. Without realising, he clutches his coin purse tightly.

Despite looking hard, Louis sees no sign of his quarry. Standing upon the banks of the river, he can see across to the point he stood not an hour before. Examining the ground closely there is no sign of Giraud-Louis, any tracks lost to the mess of muddy footprints caused by far too many people living in far too small a space.

Silently, too desperate to even speak, an elderly beggar reaches up from the mud, palm upturned for a coin.

Louis turns to the man. Crouching down, well used to mud from his days as a hunter, nonetheless, the spiritual miasma of pain and desperation here makes him feel... uneasy. Violated in a way that dirt shouldn't be able to do. Dirt was where life grew, it was dirty, but there was no harm in that. But here, these people lived in fear of their own future.

How pathetique! If only they knew how, they could just go into the woods and live much better than this.

"Old man. Do you understand me? Can you speak? I am looking for a man. A Gustan man. He crawled out of the river last night, right here. Did you see him?"

Cracked dry lips part to revealed swollen gums, containing but a few stained rotten teeth. The man smiles, nodding towards his hand as he speaks, His eyes, one pale from cataract, dart around nervously, staring far into the distance.

"Yes, I see many men, many things, many many things and men I see. But I struggle I do, to remember. So do I struggle. Ever so hungry, ravished! But if only sir could spare but some coin. Not much. For bread, spend it on bread I will.Not drink like others! No more drink for me sez I. Had my fill of a drinking life, oh yes I have."

The mans quivering hand remains outcast, as he rambles on into a mumble.

Louis reaches one hand down to his sword hilt, a threat of violence. Then, with the other, he reaches into a pocket and pulls out two coins, of the smallest denomination. Thinking more of it, he pulls out a third. With the three coins pinched between his fingers, he says to the man, "This might get you some bread, if you can tell me where the man went when he left the water. And so I know you're telling the truth, tell me what the man was wearing."

While saying this, Louis glances around him. In spite of the squallor, or maybe because of it, he has this feeling that he will be attacked by a gang of desperate thugs, just for the three coins he's holding up. If only they knew how much he had in that pocket, he was sure the entire area would be rushing to bury him in their dirt and misery.