Pandyssia - sample text · 9:39pm Aug 19th, 2014

Just a sample of text from my new novel:

"Anton Sokolov's newest inventions are certainly the most advanced in the known world!" rang the intercoms in the outside air, musty and fresh with whale blood. The Month of Rain was without a doubt the dreariest twenty eight days until the harshness of the Month of Winds, Darkness, and High Cold follows. It is the twelfth day of Rain.

The year is 1837.

In the following days, something will happen; the beginning of a new world or the end of an old one, that of which I cannot tell. He came to me in a dream; he who walks among us in his world and ours. He has yet to reveal to me his true name, but his black eyes say enough that it is not wise to ask him extraordinary questions and the like.

There's been strange talk at the Marauder most nights. Almost every night to be exact. Talk of a Ghost in the shadows, who's blade is as sharp as ice is cold. His face is hidden beyond plain sight by a mask of gears and panes of glass. One particular night, I was sitting at that bar on the streets of Dunwall in which I was talking to my dear companion and long time friend; Timothy Barrowman.

"I'm telling you, I saw the assassin. He wore imperial robes and a mask of... Of... I don't even know! He was jumping from rooftop to rooftop in the night. He wore a hood and cloak so I couldn't even make out any features whatsoever. I think he's a demon sent by the Outsider is what I think."

"Tim, keep your voice down, do you want the Overseers to hear? They'll drag you back to the Abbey in half a second if they heard you."

"Please, poor young Robby Longfellow without his faithful sidekick; Sir Timothy Barrowman."

"Sir? If anything, I'm closer to that title than anyone in this retched place. I'm telling you Tim, we need to find a way out of Dunwall before it's too late. The plague has taken out a third of the city and nobody's doing a damn thing about it. I'm afraid if we wait too long, we will end up in one of those body bags with a blanket laid across our faces among the thousands of others."

Timothy Barrowman was a card for sure, sharp on the edges, no soft spots, and a unquenchable thirst for exploration and adventure on the island of Gristol. Him being a Gristol native and only venturing outside of the city limits on holidays, he always wanted to go exploring in the vast regions of this planet, but never made it a few miles outside of his own city. Dunwall was outrageously large and built to show off to the rest of the world. Loyal aristocrats and lords come here to boast about they're wonderful Empire of the Isles and their goddess Empress, Jasmine Kaldwin. In my own opinion, she's just another rich girl serving as a figurehead for a rat infested slum. Timothy and I agree on the same thing and planned to leave as soon as possible, but we always found ourselves waiting for the right time.

Nobody lets anybody just take a ship and leave with it. It costs a lot of coin to even buy a rowboat around Dunwall, let alone an explorer's ship. Yes, I know, I'm an explorer and asking me where all of my money is from exploring isn't going to make it come back. It was robbed from me, though not in some dark alleyway. Her Royal Highness's taxes for the poor and depletion of whale oil is all to thank. I used to live a posh life, but all that changed when the whale shortage began. Tax after tax and now I'm here at the bar.

I used to dream about traveling to exotic places like Serkonas and the like, just wanting to get the bloody hell out of Gristol when I was a young boy, but now all I see when I close my eyes are the eyes of another, his voice like a spell which intoxicates me to listen and he stretched out his hand to me as if he wants me to grab it, yet when I reach for it; he pulls away. Every night I wonder what would happen if I took his hand. He tells me things that give me déjà vu, or at least the feeling of it. He knows things in the real world that nobody could know. He tells me about people and their lives and how they keep secrets from one another. He can tell me when someone will die and yet refuses to say their names. I don't want to believe I know who it is, but I cannot deny it. It's the Outsider, walking among us and in my head. I believe one night he will visit me in my world, but I do not fear him in a way that he may hurt me. I've peeked an interest in him, or at least that is what he had told me once.

"You know who I am, Robert. You know what I can do and have done. Your story, though I can see it all and how it will end, has interested me. I'll be keeping my eye on you," he would whisper in my ear.

"What do you mean? How do you know what has yet to come?"

"All in due time, my friend. You and Timothy have a long road ahead of you."

"What does that mean!?" I yell, but he is gone and I wake in a cold sweat.

Nobody else has approached me about him personally, but secretly I hope someone does. I can't be the only one he's contacted, there has to be others. There are markings of him all over the Flooded District and other places. I even see them sometimes painted on the walls outside of some of the wealthy estates by some children looking for a late night rouse. It's like he is all,over the city, but never seen. This only leads me further to believe that he has touched others like he has me. It gives me some comfort knowing that I am not alone, yet I wish Timothy would understand how terrified and interested I am.

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