OneCrappy DM
Explorer
Luke Cinder
Sticking to the main thoroughfares is the best way to move through the Hive. The side alleys twist like a razorvine, hiding things you’d much rather see coming from three streets away. Best not to let the Hive surprise you; it has a habit of doing that only once. Out here, the air is thick with the stink of too many bodies and too few honest intentions.
You’ve got all manner of denizens drifting through the muck:
Fortune tellers who read omens; Cagestruck bodies who wandered in through the wrong Door and haven’t stopped panicking since; Locals who’ve lived here long enough to be half-feral, moving in packs for safety. Then there are the plane touched swaggering about like they own the place, their tempers as short as their knives; Madmen muttering philosophy to the shadows; and the occasional dustman dragging a half-dead body to the Mortuary because business is business.
Every one of them knows something about someone, but none of them talk for free and even when they do, you can’t trust a word. Still, you already know where your mark holes up. What you need now is information and in the Hive, the only way to get that is to sift through its people just like they sift through its refuse, never sure which scrap will cut you and which will pay off.
Sticking to the main thoroughfares is the best way to move through the Hive. The side alleys twist like a razorvine, hiding things you’d much rather see coming from three streets away. Best not to let the Hive surprise you; it has a habit of doing that only once. Out here, the air is thick with the stink of too many bodies and too few honest intentions.
You’ve got all manner of denizens drifting through the muck:
Fortune tellers who read omens; Cagestruck bodies who wandered in through the wrong Door and haven’t stopped panicking since; Locals who’ve lived here long enough to be half-feral, moving in packs for safety. Then there are the plane touched swaggering about like they own the place, their tempers as short as their knives; Madmen muttering philosophy to the shadows; and the occasional dustman dragging a half-dead body to the Mortuary because business is business.
Every one of them knows something about someone, but none of them talk for free and even when they do, you can’t trust a word. Still, you already know where your mark holes up. What you need now is information and in the Hive, the only way to get that is to sift through its people just like they sift through its refuse, never sure which scrap will cut you and which will pay off.
You may roll up to twice on a gather information; each roll is accompanied by a d4+1 hours required for the search. If you decide to roll twice word may get around of your questioning.
