A century had passed since the ravages of war had left their mark on the world. In the heart of Nebulon, the capital city of the Astoria continent, a man moves silently within the dark alleys. As steam wisps through narrow streets, echoes of clanking machinery quickly follows. The soft glow of street lamps set the stage for a tale that defied the boundaries of imagination.
Tall buildings, their facades a fusion of intricate ironwork and elegant glass panels, reached towards the sky, competing for the attention of passersby. Ornate balconies and wrought iron railings adorned the upper levels, offering glimpses into the lives of the city's denizens. Elaborate clockwork mechanisms spun and whirred atop the rooftops, their synchronized movements a testament to the ingenuity of the city's technological innovations.
As the moon cast its silvery glow, the man traversed the dark alleys of Nebulon, the cobblestones whispering beneath his boots. His keen eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any flicker of danger amidst the haze of steam. The city's nocturnal symphony played on, the clinks and whirs of machinery mingling with the distant laughter of revelers.
Clad in a tailored black high-collared coat that fluttered in the night breeze, the man cut a striking figure against the backdrop of flickering gas lamps. Atop his head, a fedora sat tilted, casting a shadow over his sharp features. Dusty yellow eyes, like glimmering embers, pierced through the darkness, their intensity a reflection of the depths hidden within his enigmatic soul.
He navigates the labyrinth streets with purpose, his footsteps a soft rhythmic cadence against the cobblestones. As he weaves through the winding alleys and hidden passages, the distant clamour of revelry draws him closer to his destination-a local tavern.
The Gear and Goblet, famous for its steam-infused cocktails, stood nestled between two towering buildings. Its exterior facade, weathered by time and adorned with rustic charm, bore the marks of countless patrons who had crossed its threshold.
He pushes open the heavy wooden door, revealing a symphony of sights and sounds. Patrons were seen leaning over the table, engaged in their animated conversations while the clinking of glasses and laughter reverberated off the walls. Ornate mechanical contraptions neighboured countless bottles of liquor, as they present themselves proudly upon the shelves. The man surveys the room, before taking a seat across the bartender.
Bartender: "Evening, good sir. What can I get you?"
The man leans against the wooden counter, his dusty yellow eyes meeting the bartender's gaze.
Thaddeus: "A glass of your finest whiskey, my good man."
The bartender nodded, a knowing smile curling at the corners of his mouth.
Bartender: "Ah, a connoisseur, I see. You've come to the right place, my friend. Our whiskey is like liquid gold."
As the bartender poured a generous measure of amber liquid into a crystal tumbler, Thaddeus glanced around the bustling tavern.
Thaddeus: "This place seems to have its fair share of stories. Any interesting happenings lately?"
Bartender: "You've got a sharp eye, my friend. This place never fails to attract interesting characters and tales. Just last week, we had a renowned adventurer walk through those doors, regaling us with stories of lost treasures and ancient ruins. And lets not forget about the traveling circus in the outskirts of town. The performers were like nothing you've ever seen, twisting their bodies into unimaginable shapes."
Thaddeus leaned against the bar, his gaze wandering across the tavern's eclectic crowd. He took a sip of his drink, savoring the rich flavors.
Thaddeus: "Fascinating. It seems this tavern is a magnet for adventure and intrigue. Anything else worth knowing?"
The bartender paused, wiping a polished glass with a cloth, before leaning in closer.
Bartender: (Whispering) "Well, there have been whispers about a hidden underworld thriving beneath the city's surface. Rumor has it that a black market auction has gained quite the following, dealing in rare artifacts, forbidden knowledge, and even exotic creatures. It's a risky business, but for those who dare, the rewards can be substantial."
Thaddeus's eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and determination. The mention of the black market auction had piqued his interest. Leaning against the worn wooden bar, he couldn't help but wonder if the recent attention gained by the black market had any connection to his father's death. His father, Alexander Lockeheart, was murdered last week.
— One week ago ——————————————————
Thaddeus woke up to the disquieting realisation that his father, Alexander Lockeheart, had not returned home. The morning sun cast a somber light upon their modest abode as Thaddeus's concern grew with each passing moment. His father's absence was unusual, especially after a night of indulging in his favorite pastime: sharing drinks at the local tavern.
As he hails from a lineage of Seraphides, a unique race of humans blessed with subtle serpent characteristics, his family possessed an exceptional resistance to intoxication, rendering them immune to the seductive lure of alcohol's grasp. However, this very fact stirred an unsettling unease within him. A blend of worry and intuition guided his steps as he sets off towards the familiar tavern, yearning to find his father's presence amidst its walls.
Not far from his home, Thaddeus's gaze was drawn to a congregation of curious onlookers huddled within an alleyway. With a mixture of trepidation and urgency, he hastened his steps, parting the sea of bodies that stood as sentinels to the grim scene that awaited him. A shiver coursed through his spine, heralding the devastating truth he was about to confront. There, on the cold ground, lay his father, his lifeless form marred by a grievous wound to his head. A cleric, with furrowed brows and hands desperately trying to revive the departed, painted a tragic picture of a futile struggle against fate.
Thaddeus's anguish erupted in a cascade of tears as he rushed to his father's side. The sight of blood mingling with his father's black scales tore at his soul.
As Thaddeus's tear-filled eyes scanned his father's lifeless form, his trembling hands moved with a mix of desperation and hope. In that haunting moment, a sudden realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. His gaze fixated on the broken chain clenched within his father's rigid grasp, a silent plea to unravel the mystery that lay before him. A flicker of intuition guided his actions as he reached for the pocketwatch, a cherished family heirloom, only to find its absence.
As the days stretched on since his father's untimely demise, Thaddeus found himself consumed by a relentless torrent of thoughts and questions. The image of his father's lifeless body haunted his every waking moment, etching deep furrows upon his brow. With each passing day, he delved further into the labyrinth of his thoughts, piecing together fragmented memories and searching for elusive answers. Who could have committed such a heinous act? Was it a random act of violence or a calculated strike targeted at his father? And most perplexing of all, why was the pocketwatch, a seemingly unremarkable timepiece, ruthlessly torn from his father's possession? Its weathered exterior, slightly covered in rust, bore no sign of monetary value or unique intricate design. These questions gnawed at his soul, fueling a burning determination to uncover the truth and bring justice to his father's memory.
———————————————————————————
As Thaddeus delve deeper into his contemplation, consumed by the mystery that plagued his thoughts, the bartender's voice broke through the veil of his introspection with a serious tone, almost as if reading his mind.
Bartender: (Serious, with a hint of caution ) "But let me warn you, it's a dangerous path to tread. Those involved in such dealings aren't known for their kindness or mercy. If you're thinking of getting involved, I'd advise you to think twice. It's a dark road that leads to more trouble than you can imagine."
His words carried a hint of sincerity, as if he wished to shield Thaddeus from the perils that awaited him in that clandestine world.
Thaddeus takes a deep breath and nods, before finishing his drink in a single decisive gulp. He sets the empty glass back on the counter and rises from his seat. The bartender's words reverberate in his mind, mingling with his own contemplations. He pushes open the heavy tavern door, stepping out into the cool night air. Standing on the threshold, he gazes up at the moon, its pale light casting an ethereal glow upon his determined face. The moon seems to hold a silent promise, almost as if it whispers secrets that only the night can reveal.