If people bring so much courage into this world, they get noticed, so the world has to break them. Those that will not break it kills. It breaks the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. When the world breaks them sometimes some become strong at the broken places. And it will break those too but it will be no special hurry.
In front of a dilapidated main street of a frontier town the writing burnt into a wooden notice board beings to smoke. Whatever was written on the board is quickly lost as new patterns are etched out and a thin cloud of smoke drifts up to hide the board for a moment. As the smoke clears it reveals a new piece of writing, finely carved into the wood, as if by a master craftsman. People walking past however pay scant attention to the show or stop to read what the board now says. The only attention it receives is that of a dishevelled Halfling stumbling past and squinting up at the writing as he relieves himself against one of the boards legs
Tonight, throughout Ghostwater heads may be laid to pillow assuaged and reassured, for that purveyor for profit of everything sordid and vicious, Nafez Verstaadt, already beaten to a fare-thee-well earlier in the day by Captain Trejib, has returned to the Captain the implements and ornaments of his office. Without the tawdry walls of Verstaadt’s tavern The Thirsty Dog, decent citizens may pursue with a new and jaunty freedom all aspects of goodly commerce. In which connection, we particularly recommend the armourer Hazzrack’s fine works, arms found within The Carvery by Elgios and of course Neegla’s high quality good-store The Generals Supplies. A full fair-mindedness requires us also to report that within the Dog, on Ghostwaters’s main thoroughfare, comely wenches, decently priced liquor and the squarest games of chance in the hills remain unabatedly available at all hours, seven days a week.
… a place of refugees, wily eccentrics, dim-witted rebels, bloody-minded trailblazers, war-torn wash-ups, gamblers with nothing to lose, abused abusers and a few genuine miners. A population of a few hundred huddled together for safety, survival and the pursuit of profit. Here trustworthiness and love are the rarest of commodities while violence and deceit flow like the ghastly streams that give the town its name. Thus unescapably, the locals must curb some of their tendencies toward anarchy and savagery and embrace certain rudiments of civilized society; otherwise they will destroy themselves. Distilled from this process, in a sense of being extracted rather than refined, certain individuals will stand out. These persons will be bastions of the chaos around them. Persons that that while perhaps not standing tall, will still stand when called. Their lives may go on to greatness or they may not go on much longer at all… who can say… Welcome to Ghostwater, pull up a seat at the bar and let’s get started
Ghostwater has been laid to rest. The first of many sessions kicked off 18/06/10.
It lasted a year or so and may live again someday given the right circumstances :)
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