Café de Nuit

Just that: write the next passage in the spirit of Ravenloft. Just don't kill off the protagonist too quickly.

"I walked out the door, took a deep breath - and fell into a wracking cough. The fog was thick already, this early in the day, and it reeked of the river's grey waters, rotting vegetation and fish.
I pulled up my collar, pulled down my hat, and pulled the door shut behind me.
In the eerie silence and the mist, the click of the lock was almost ominous.
The deep, distant tolling of the bell of the Ezran church across the river was just gloomy.
I set off along the road, buildings looming out of and disappearing into the fog like antideluvian monsters surfacing for a breath of air.
My poniard was a familiar weight in my coat pocket."

So no 'Rocks Strahd falls everyone dies?'
OK then..... time to scream for me little notepad electrons

My footsteps echoed hollowly on the damp stone cobbles, the sounds bouncing down the empty streets with nary a soul glancing up at the noise.
Apparently even the beggars had the sense to take shelter from the clammy chill of the fog, though inevitably they would later emerge from their miserable hovels as dawn finally broke.
For now, the streets were my domain alone…

But not totally. Something was moving up ahead.

A shapeless bundle on the ground twitched and moved, jerking shapelessly on the ground. Though disturbing, I recognised an all too familiar sight in the city.
An unfortunate individual who had succumbed to the demon claws of alcohol and collapsed in the street.
Inevitably their miserable corpus would be found cold as ice in the morning by the guards, and their destination ending with a pauper’s grave

But there was something wrong with the way this sad individual moved.
Not the twitching of ‘delirium tremens’ but a smooth flowing of movement, as if their entire body was rippling like a cloak in a breeze.
Growing wary, my hand slipped unconsciously to my weapon, when a momentary swirl in the mist permitted a clearer view and I snorted at my overactive imagination.
It was simply rats swarming over some discarded refuse, another common sight though not as morbid as my prior musings.

The exclamation at my own foolishness must have been heard by the sharp eared rodents and they quickly scattered, disappearing into the lurking shadows.
Though I could imagine their beady eyes watching me, as if they were a jury deciding my fate for stealing their prize.

As I continued down the road, I approached the spoils of the rodent conclave---and what a strange thing it was!

I bent to collect it, wondering aloud as to why the rats sought to swarm this item: it was a doll, but not a small person or a stuffed bear. Instead, it was a more exotic creature, a furry, tailed monkey, perhaps the sort that would be found in the Rajian jungle. It was largely of cloth, but its hands and feet were of wood. Its toes, as well as the fingers of its right hand, were splayed wide, but its left hand was curled into a circle. The most amazing feature of the doll was its mouth, which was designed in quite painstaking detail. Beneath its thin lips was a full set of teeth---of ivory, perhaps?---with long canines, and a pink, leather tongue revealed itself when I pried the jaws apart. Above this orifice, the toy's black, button eyes regarded me passively.

If the rats had meant to use the monkey for nesting material, they hadn't made much progress. Looking the thing over, I saw no tears, no punctures, and no missing patches of fur. Overall, it was in good condition. It could make a good present for my niece---or a good sell to a pawn broker, if those uncanny teeth were made of what I suspected. With that in mind, I stuffed it into my pocket, resolving to decide later if I would be a good uncle.

Another painful, wet series of coughs came and went, then I was off again, with the accusatory eyes of the rats following me.

Then again, I thought with chagrin, I'll be no uncle at all to her if I succumb to this damnable cough that had rooted in my chest these past weeks. No uncle to her, and nothing to anyone else.

If only I could scrape together enough coin for the so-called holy men at the Church to bless me with a prayer for health. How holy can they be if they have the means to cure the sick but only when they charge a fee to do so? Bah. Until then, I'll just have to push through it for another day of work. I wish things were different, but they never are, not here.

For a moment, just then, I felt something shift about in my pocket. I pulled out the monkey doll to double check that the rats hadn't burrowed inside and left some nestling pups within. No... just as intact as I'd thought. But were the eyes a bit more open than I remembered? The smile a bit wider? Nonsense. Just my imagination, surely. I stuffed the poppet back away, took a deep, clear breath, and set about on my business for the day.

My path brought me to what looked like a small run-down church. Not one of the glorious ones where the priests flitted around, but a basic bare building. The curate waiting inside looked like someone had – unsuccessfully – tried to dress a gorilla in a suit. I didn’t know his name and didn’t care but simply gave the pass phrase "I wish to confess".

A slight tilt of the gorillas’ head indicated to one of those confessional boxes some religions are fond of – they type where a person sits in each side and talk through a screen. Good for anonymously confessing sins...amongst other things. Closing the door on the small box behind me, I knelt on the pew and recited the pass phrase.

“Forgive me sister, for I have sins to confess and seek absolution”

“Indeed, tell me off them”, a calm voice replied from the other side of the screen. It was quiet, but distinctly female the voice of the “Confessor”. Also known as one of the better information fences in the area. No one knew their real name, and those who tried tended to ‘retire to the countryside’.

With a quiet *clunk* a drawer slid open beneath the screen, and I withdrew the papers I had been carrying and placed them within – my ‘sins’. The clunk echoed once again as I slid the drawer closed, permitting the ‘confessor’ to examine them. As I listened to the rustle of paper from beyond the screen, I mused what they might have contained. I had gotten the papers form some disgruntled servant for one of the many high and mighty rulers of this miserable city. I didn’t care what was in them, I just hoped they were worth enough for a few coins.

A broke from my musings when, I finally noticed the silence. No shuffling. Nothing. Starting to bite my lip in worry, the voice replied through the screen, calm as before.... but was that a hint of a sharp undertone?

“You have done well, my brother. Go now and continue to seek absolution”.

Another *clunk* and I withdrew a bag from the drawer. Damn, from the size it could only be a few silvers worth at most. Still the tone of ‘Go now’ conveyed a very firm ‘Our business is concluded’, so left the confessional under the gaze of the gorilla, and once outside opened the bag to see how much of a pittance I had wasted my time on.

Wait…. Gems? A handful of gems? A gentleman’s yearly wage at a guess. I whistled a low note. Damn, what was in those papers to earn these gems? Or maybe it was better I didn’t know.

Looking around quickly, I shoved the bag into my pocket before thieves could see. As I did, I felt the touch of the strange monkey doll. I had forgotten about it, but now I let out a quiet laugh, “Maybe you are a good luck monkey”.

Seriously, Let the moderators know we've been SPAMMED.

Manofevil wrote: ↑Sat Apr 01, 2023 8:20 pm Seriously, Let the moderators know we've been SPAMMED.

And hacked

All this SPAM is leaving a bad taste in my mouth... YYYYEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!

I removed my fake spam, and as penance, here is a continuation of the story.

I set off once more, my thoughts dwelling upon my recent windfall. I itched to spend it, but I had an inkling to take a cue from those banker types and make the money work for me. Perhaps I didn't have the financial sense for that, but it could be worth a try.

One immediate expense I could excuse, though, was fixing that cough, which punctuated the very thought as I had it. I set my sights on the Ezran church ... but it seemed a bit off---perhaps even a bit much---to pay them a gemstone for the service. I ought to liquidate some of them first, which meant a jeweler. No, they might look me over and wonder where I got these, so that meant a fence. A real fence.

I hadn't been to one of them in years, not since my knee went out and climbing in people's windows wasn't a practical job anymore. Old Terrence had been my go-to, but he had been talking of retiring as long as I had known him. Still, he was worth a try, if he hadn't up and died in the past few months since I last saw him.

I passed one other early-riser on my way to Terry's, a chap in a long coat and a saggy, once-fancy hat, who lightly limped along with the support of a time-beaten cane. He gave me single quick glance, then gave another glance to my pocket, his expression shifting from appraising to quizzical before he continued on his way. Looking down, I saw the monkey, its head and arms hanging out like it was sightseeing as it rode along, making me look completely daft. I pushed it back down, this time careful to make sure it didn't snag on the button of my sleeve as I pulled my hand free. That was the only explanation that made sense.