My friend,
I must admit, the rooftops and docks are lonely without you, despite your incorporeal tendency even when you are present. The initiative has been taken by Maybell and myself to care for your lodgings, particularly your flock of endearing bats, while you are away. The, ah, ‘Out ta Lonch’ sign was removed as to allay suspicions of an empty and vulnerable boat.
Were you aware of my Maybell’s excavations in Spite? I became aware of her dealings after a ‘quid pro quo’ demand involving my injury. Oh, I just remembered you’d already spirited yourself away before that incident. Well, I was attacked by a lizard creature in the mushroom marshes and nearly had my leg torn off. Maybell was kind enough to care for me during my recovery, but only after I admitted the truth. I suppose claiming it was an injury inflicted by the Dutchess’s feline companions was stretching it a bit far, even for her wildly imaginative mind.
I’m writing this letter to divulge to you a concern of mine. While traveling the streets of Wolfstack one night, I stumbled upon a home with front doors wide open. The state of ease to which I could enter was alarming, and so having a curious spirit, I had to peer in.
It was horrible, dear friend, positively nightmarish. A…wolf-like creature, enormous, dark as night with glowing, terrible eyes was attacking a family. Blood had already been splashed about the floors and walls as if it were merely paint. I don’t have the heart to leave screaming children to the whims of such a beast, so I managed to beat it back, but not before it landed it’s own blow that’s marred my skin like no other scar I have previously collected.
Your bite mark from the Eater of Chains. My own is frighteningly similar…
I cannot bare to think of it much longer. Sleep has been difficult enough for me to wrest through. The more recent of my activities, and the one that you may find most interesting, is my guilty pleasure of inconveniencing the Jack-o-smiles. Since diving into the other forms of nightlife that Fallen London has to offer, I’ve developed a very acute sadistic streak involving the Jack-o-smiles. Ever since The Incident at the Men’s Club when he took it upon himself to dismember several of my esteemed colleagues and nearly myself, I’ve been struck with the desire to repay the favor.
Not by dismembering Jack-o-smiles’ colleagues (if he even has any) of course. I’ve found a much kinder way to feed my kindling flame of distaste for the creature. By saving the criminals he’s dibbed. The brilliance, I must say. Doing the public justice as well my more less-lawfully-inclined friends a favor, and simultaneously thwarting the being who has caused myself such trouble.
I’d almost consider it a sport.
Enough about me. I’ve simply missed our long silences and the rocking of your boat beneath the moonish light. Mushroom wine is best with good company. I hope that your bat has managed to deliver this letter to you without interception or suffering harm. It’s rather selfish of me to use her as a carrier pigeon, but of all the creatures of Fallen London, I suspect Oz is the most capable. She’s missed you deeply, and I hope she finds you well, friend.
Return wealthy and soon.
-The Puff
I must admit, the rooftops and docks are lonely without you, despite your incorporeal tendency even when you are present. The initiative has been taken by Maybell and myself to care for your lodgings, particularly your flock of endearing bats, while you are away. The, ah, ‘Out ta Lonch’ sign was removed as to allay suspicions of an empty and vulnerable boat.
Were you aware of my Maybell’s excavations in Spite? I became aware of her dealings after a ‘quid pro quo’ demand involving my injury. Oh, I just remembered you’d already spirited yourself away before that incident. Well, I was attacked by a lizard creature in the mushroom marshes and nearly had my leg torn off. Maybell was kind enough to care for me during my recovery, but only after I admitted the truth. I suppose claiming it was an injury inflicted by the Dutchess’s feline companions was stretching it a bit far, even for her wildly imaginative mind.
I’m writing this letter to divulge to you a concern of mine. While traveling the streets of Wolfstack one night, I stumbled upon a home with front doors wide open. The state of ease to which I could enter was alarming, and so having a curious spirit, I had to peer in.
It was horrible, dear friend, positively nightmarish. A…wolf-like creature, enormous, dark as night with glowing, terrible eyes was attacking a family. Blood had already been splashed about the floors and walls as if it were merely paint. I don’t have the heart to leave screaming children to the whims of such a beast, so I managed to beat it back, but not before it landed it’s own blow that’s marred my skin like no other scar I have previously collected.
Your bite mark from the Eater of Chains. My own is frighteningly similar…
I cannot bare to think of it much longer. Sleep has been difficult enough for me to wrest through. The more recent of my activities, and the one that you may find most interesting, is my guilty pleasure of inconveniencing the Jack-o-smiles. Since diving into the other forms of nightlife that Fallen London has to offer, I’ve developed a very acute sadistic streak involving the Jack-o-smiles. Ever since The Incident at the Men’s Club when he took it upon himself to dismember several of my esteemed colleagues and nearly myself, I’ve been struck with the desire to repay the favor.
Not by dismembering Jack-o-smiles’ colleagues (if he even has any) of course. I’ve found a much kinder way to feed my kindling flame of distaste for the creature. By saving the criminals he’s dibbed. The brilliance, I must say. Doing the public justice as well my more less-lawfully-inclined friends a favor, and simultaneously thwarting the being who has caused myself such trouble.
I’d almost consider it a sport.
Enough about me. I’ve simply missed our long silences and the rocking of your boat beneath the moonish light. Mushroom wine is best with good company. I hope that your bat has managed to deliver this letter to you without interception or suffering harm. It’s rather selfish of me to use her as a carrier pigeon, but of all the creatures of Fallen London, I suspect Oz is the most capable. She’s missed you deeply, and I hope she finds you well, friend.
Return wealthy and soon.
-The Puff
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