MR64 Cycle One: A Drop of Crimson
The bartender walked into his bar. “Ouch,” he said, as he felt a sharp pain on the back of his head. It occurred to him that he was falling forward. What–
*
The scruffy-looking man opened his eyes, blinking once, then twice, and looking up at the Ghostblood. “You… stool… stool fall girl,” he mumbled, then let out a short laugh.
“Yeah, yeah,” the Ghostblood said, her Connection medallion translating her words into Threnodite (or Threnodian, or whatever the storms the language here was called). “Now, let’s make this quick, alright? Then we can all go home.”
The bartender was beginning to realize that his arms and legs were tied to a chair. “Hey,” he said. “What… what’re you doin’? What’s this?”
“I’m part of an organization that is, for some Shards-forsaken reason, interested in your dirty little shanty-town. We believe there’s an… asset here that our boss is very interested in acquiring.”
“What…”
“Has anyone in your village been able to do things like, I dunno, raise the dead? Make plants grow?”
The man’s eyes widened.
Yes, the Ghostblood thought, a malicious grin spreading across her face. “You’re going to tell me who that person is.”
“I dunno… dunno anyone like that.”
“I think you do.”
“Don’t.”
The Ghostblood slid a sleek, curved knife out of a sheath on her belt. She pressed the tip of the blade to her pointer finger, drawing a drop of crimson blood. “I think you do.”
“I don’t! I– I swear! N-nobody knows who… nobody knows who has it!”
*
The bartender’s body was never found.
Welcome to MR64! Your GM PMs should all be out. Let me know if I missed you
Good luck and have fun!
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