Difference between revisions of "TheNexusProject/SovenantChrysanthemumField"
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| − | *Back to[[TheNexusProject/ | + | *Back to[[TheNexusProject/Dungtown|Dungtown]] |
*Back to [[TheNexusProject]] | *Back to [[TheNexusProject]] | ||
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| − | Within the shacks and crates and scraps of mouldy tarpaulin stitched into a semblance of tents is a patch of grass and small bushes that are filled with white flowers during the summer. In a small hut, built from chunks of timber salvaged from various sources (such as the scrapyard of [[TheNexusProject | + | Within the shacks and crates and scraps of mouldy tarpaulin stitched into a semblance of tents is a patch of grass and small bushes that are filled with white flowers during the summer. In a small hut, built from chunks of timber salvaged from various sources (such as the scrapyard of [[TheNexusProject/BuriansBuildingCompany|Burian's Building Company]]) on the edge of this field, lives Greenedged Thom, a man of middle years and little hair, and it is here that he performs his ceremonies. |
| − | Greenedged Thom can most often be found wandering the water's edge, his daily journey carries him from the [[TheNexusProject | + | Greenedged Thom can most often be found wandering the water's edge, his daily journey carries him from the [[TheNexusProject/MarauderDocks|Marauder Docks]] in the north to the slurry pits at the southern edge, wearing an intent expression and heavy leather waders. When he finds what he is looking for he walks fearlessly out into the water and returns shortly, pulling another corpse back from the river. He cleans a new body reverently, and then with appropriate ritual and solemnity, burns the corpse on a pyre built of driftwood and fuelled by cheap spirits, before scattering their ashes onto the field of chrysanthemums that is his home. |
The other inhabitants of Dungtown, for all their wretchedness and general willingness to kill for a piece of clean(ish) food, leave Greenedged Thom alone. They understand that he is probably the only chance they have of a decent burial, and given the overall squalour of life in this most wretched of places, that small comfort can be comfort enough. | The other inhabitants of Dungtown, for all their wretchedness and general willingness to kill for a piece of clean(ish) food, leave Greenedged Thom alone. They understand that he is probably the only chance they have of a decent burial, and given the overall squalour of life in this most wretched of places, that small comfort can be comfort enough. | ||
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=== Rumours === | === Rumours === | ||
*On some nights strange lights can be seen floating around Thom's hut; they sparkle in all the colours of the rainbow (and some that aren't), but vanish like moonbeams as soon as anyone approaches. | *On some nights strange lights can be seen floating around Thom's hut; they sparkle in all the colours of the rainbow (and some that aren't), but vanish like moonbeams as soon as anyone approaches. | ||
| − | *[[TheNexusProject | + | *[[TheNexusProject/IndulgentFlamesStall|Indulgent Flame]], the semi-(in)famous curio-stall owner of the Little Market, has been seen visiting Greenedged Thom several times in the last few years. |
=== Secret === | === Secret === | ||
*Greenedged Thom owes his continued survival to a dedicated cadre of assassins who hunt and kill anyone who intends harm to their charge. Thom himself is utterly ignorant as to their existence. | *Greenedged Thom owes his continued survival to a dedicated cadre of assassins who hunt and kill anyone who intends harm to their charge. Thom himself is utterly ignorant as to their existence. | ||
Latest revision as of 21:40, 3 June 2010
- Back toDungtown
- Back to TheNexusProject
The Sovenant Chrysanthemum Field
by Moxiane
- "Come on, you cowards. I hear tell he's got treasure buried somewhere in that field of his. All we need to do is 'persuade' him to tell us where it.... *urk!*"
- - Cruel Hawk, ill-fated would-be robber
- "I wish I knew why he does it, old Thom. He's a kind old sot, right enough, but one of these days he'll be the last one whose ashes are scattered over that field, and we'll be all the poorer for his loss."
- - Marly, Dungtown charity worker
Within the shacks and crates and scraps of mouldy tarpaulin stitched into a semblance of tents is a patch of grass and small bushes that are filled with white flowers during the summer. In a small hut, built from chunks of timber salvaged from various sources (such as the scrapyard of Burian's Building Company) on the edge of this field, lives Greenedged Thom, a man of middle years and little hair, and it is here that he performs his ceremonies.
Greenedged Thom can most often be found wandering the water's edge, his daily journey carries him from the Marauder Docks in the north to the slurry pits at the southern edge, wearing an intent expression and heavy leather waders. When he finds what he is looking for he walks fearlessly out into the water and returns shortly, pulling another corpse back from the river. He cleans a new body reverently, and then with appropriate ritual and solemnity, burns the corpse on a pyre built of driftwood and fuelled by cheap spirits, before scattering their ashes onto the field of chrysanthemums that is his home.
The other inhabitants of Dungtown, for all their wretchedness and general willingness to kill for a piece of clean(ish) food, leave Greenedged Thom alone. They understand that he is probably the only chance they have of a decent burial, and given the overall squalour of life in this most wretched of places, that small comfort can be comfort enough.
Rumours
- On some nights strange lights can be seen floating around Thom's hut; they sparkle in all the colours of the rainbow (and some that aren't), but vanish like moonbeams as soon as anyone approaches.
- Indulgent Flame, the semi-(in)famous curio-stall owner of the Little Market, has been seen visiting Greenedged Thom several times in the last few years.
Secret
- Greenedged Thom owes his continued survival to a dedicated cadre of assassins who hunt and kill anyone who intends harm to their charge. Thom himself is utterly ignorant as to their existence.
