#the neath

Feducci claimed the honour of my first death. And my second. Damn the man. I got him on the third run, though! Good fight!

My third death was on discovering the wonderful world of piracy, and having the delightful experience of dying at sea, having tea (well, chess) with the boatman, waking back up in my lodgings, and then greeting my incoming ship and crew at the dock. Which was excellent.

My fourth death was on purpose, getting myself killed in a dockside brawl in order to chase a warrior nun into the afterlife. You know. As one does.

My fifth was back at sea. Piracy in the Khanate is, ah, a trifle trickier than it is in home waters? Lessons were learned by all!

And now my sixth, and by far my most spectacular. There is nothing quite like ramming a dirigible right down the pupil of a vast, pendulous superweapon in a roaring suicide run in defense of night and neath. Or, well. Ramming a dream echo of a dirigible into the dream memory of said superweapon. And possibly dying only a dream death? I’m not sure. But it was spectacular, regardless. Honestly, I have calmed down, somewhat, but the thought of it is making me giddy all over again. The Starved War is spectacular. If it’s still there in a week when I can go jaunting in the Waswood again, I’m so tempted to dream it again.

I love this game. Death is so much fun. And, okay, somewhat tedious at times, but that’s … I mean, there’s such charm to a setting where you can die at sea, beat your ship home via the afterlife, and be standing waiting for it at the dock. Like. You die, and the boatman sighs at you, and you idle away some time playing chess or staring unwisely into the shore beyond the river, and then you’re back at home and up and raring to go once more. Feducci killed me that first time, and I was back up and at the duelling grounds the literal next morning. And then again, when he promptly killed me again. Like. You get so giddy and brave in this game. Try things. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?

Well. Some eldritch horror type things, there’s plenty of fairly grisly things that can happen to you, but … It’s the Neath. It’s fine. Walk it off and go again. You know?

Look me in the eyes and tell me that you haven't at least once whispered under your breath "CLEFT IN THEE HIDE IN ME" when you sense the walls are wrong, or thought about the devils in hell while passing by an embassy, or checking into a hotel and remembering the merry gentleman and the royal bethlehem.

You're lying to yourself if you haven't once thought about the labyrinths and human zoos while meeting the gaze of a tiger, referring to money as capital, or the spiders and bats and extraordinary number of weasels purchased.

Haven't you ever avoided mirrors at carnivals and looked to honey as the stuff of dreams, looking into reflections and parabolian jungles or even veilgarden? Doesn't palaces ever remind you of the shuttered palace, don't docks remind you of the zee and rooftops of the Topsy King?

Don't you ever flinch at the sight of orphanages (no hate to orphans okay) and red masks in remembrance of Poor Edward, or smile in relief at the Starveling Kitty! Starveling Kitty! Ruled the roofs of five stolen cities!?

Don't tell me you haven't looked at newspapers and chess pieces in different ways, rubber and clay and stone cast in different lights, the constables and the revolutionaries picking up a different sort of attention from you?

When people ask you about your favourite cities, does New York, LA and names alike these come out from your mouth, or does your mind wander to the first, second, third, fourth and fifth city in a different realm?

Has your ears never perked up, have your eyes never cast down, have you never leaned closer or draw further when you catch whispers of the bazaar, thoughts of the Masters lurking around?

When you look at wells, do you never get unexplainably hungry, your curiosity growing into an uncomfortable itch?

Littol bit of work from my university project, some secondary characters!

From left to right: Orion, Brutus, Eleanor, Ada and Charles