largshire lore
Hey, did you get this?
https://largshirepress.itch.io/largshire
It's free at the moment.
If you like lore, I also wrote this.
It's also free at the moment.
Here's a sample.
The crate landed hard on the wooden dock, making a splintering sound as it cracked open. Treyber stood on the dock and looked at the cracked crate. He looked back up at the man on the ship, "You fucking idiot."
"Sorry, boss!" Masso yelled back. "It just got real heavy and lost it!"
"Yeah, you lost it alright," Treyber said under his breath. He looked around him. It was dark, only a half moon tonight, and the fog had descended over the town. No one about. It's OK, he thought, no one heard it. He stared down at the crate. It was cracked, but it would still hold OK. He crouched down next to it and saw the branded sign of the Sand Cranes on the bottom corner. It was the right box, at least.
Treyber waited for Masso to get off the ship, and the two burly, heavily tattooed men made their way through the docks and to the small shanty house they used on nights like these. It was the closest wood could be to wood before it became a house. One door in and out, two rooms, a dirt floor, and an uneven, low-hanging roof. There were three chairs and a table; they dropped the crate heavily onto the table.
Masso went into the other room and returned with a crowbar to open the crate. It opened easily and almost fell apart because of the cracks it suffered from the drop.
Inside was the regular shipment: one box of phujid, one box of celir, and 20 bottles of brujar. However, there was also a stone tablet at the bottom of the crate, wrapped in heavy, coarse linen, with a note stuck to it. The note read;
T.
As you can see, there is something a little extra in this week's shipment. Do not remove it from the crate. A woman with red hair will come to collect it soon. Keep it somewhere safe. Do not show it to anyone. Close the crate up again when you are done.
-B.
The two men stared at each other, then back at the smashed crate. The pile of wood that surrounded the stone tablet could barely be called a crate.
"Well, fuck," Masso said.
"If you hadn't of-" Treyber started.
"I know!"
"What the shit are we going to do now?"
"I dunno, ey."
The two men peered into the crate, looking down at the artefact that lay on the bottom. They had the feeling that it was peering back at them. It was an uneasy, sickening feeling. Something that made them both recoil after a few moments of looking at it. They both knew that this did not bode well.
"Do we fix this one or just get another one?" Masso asked.
Treyber glared at Masso. Then looked around the room. Then back at the wrecked crate, "We need a new one. Take the thing out of there. I'll go get a crate."
Masso reached into the crate and put his hands on the tablet at the bottom. It gave him that feeling again. This time it didn't just feel like it was staring back at him; it felt as if the tablet had grabbed hold of him, too. Cold, bone fingers had wrapped themselves around his hands as he clasped onto the heavy piece of stone. Heavy was technically the correct word. But that didn't quite cover it. It was unnaturally heavy. He strained, pulled, and dragged it out of the crate. Treyber came back into the room just as Masso was knocking the broken crate off the table and dumping the tablet back onto the small wooden table. He tried to do it carefully, but he couldn't let go. It was as if those icy fingers were still clasped on him. Eventually, it released his hands but slammed onto the table, clanging heavily. As it landed, the coarse linen slid and revealed a part of the front of the tablet. Treyber stood behind Masso and stared at it.
"I don't like this thing, mate," Masso said.