Jefferson North Dock, Skylands Republic
"'Ey, 'erbert. Ya 'eard about w'at 'appened to Verdelion's crew?"
"No I haven't, Olson. What happened?"
Two skyfarers were chatting by, next to a hot dog stand, their conversation audible to both Miriah and Troy. North Dock of Jefferson was the most populated of all docks in the city of Jefferson, full of travelers wandering around looking helpless, soldiers of the Air Force gathering around before and after their patrols, and skyfarers, an equivalent of sailors to the realm of the sky, busy readying their ships for takeoff or unloading the cargo. One, named Olson, had the classic look of a farer: wearing crisp white sailor outfit with black ties and black suede shoes. He had no hat, and no hair, and his beard was large and impressive. The other, named Herbert, looked more like a scribe, with brass goggles resting on his forehead, indigo-colored robe, and copper prosthetic arm.
"Most of t'em died. Murdered, t'ey say. T'ey don't know w'o's be'ind it or why t'ey're dying, but people are reckoning t'at the killer is after t'e treasure." Olson said before he chugged on his bottle of rum. He was leaning on a heavy box of cargo he was carrying.
"Verdelion's treasure? If Verdelion's crew are murdered, then the treasure's location could be lost forever." Herbert sighed. While Olson's voice and gestures were loud and obnoxious, Herbert's were the direct opposite: quiet and withdrawn.
"A 'andful still lives to t'is day." Olson, finding that he drank all of his rum, smashed the bottle on the wooden dock floor, shattering it. He then proceeded to reach behind the box he was leaning on to get another bottle of rum. "And Verdelion 'as 'is log that 'as everyt'ing about t'e treasure. T'e location, t'e details of w'at's in it..."
"Come to think of it, aren't the military searching for the treasure as well? I heard the famous sheriff of Piltover is also close to finding it as well..." Herbert went off into a solitary muttering as Olson paid no mind and kept drinking. Conversations like this were the topic of interest to many explorers, but these two sounded like they knew about something that others did not.
"'Ey, 'erbert. Ya 'eard about w'at 'appened to Verdelion's crew?"
"No I haven't, Olson. What happened?"
Two skyfarers were chatting by, next to a hot dog stand, their conversation audible to both Miriah and Troy. North Dock of Jefferson was the most populated of all docks in the city of Jefferson, full of travelers wandering around looking helpless, soldiers of the Air Force gathering around before and after their patrols, and skyfarers, an equivalent of sailors to the realm of the sky, busy readying their ships for takeoff or unloading the cargo. One, named Olson, had the classic look of a farer: wearing crisp white sailor outfit with black ties and black suede shoes. He had no hat, and no hair, and his beard was large and impressive. The other, named Herbert, looked more like a scribe, with brass goggles resting on his forehead, indigo-colored robe, and copper prosthetic arm.
"Most of t'em died. Murdered, t'ey say. T'ey don't know w'o's be'ind it or why t'ey're dying, but people are reckoning t'at the killer is after t'e treasure." Olson said before he chugged on his bottle of rum. He was leaning on a heavy box of cargo he was carrying.
"Verdelion's treasure? If Verdelion's crew are murdered, then the treasure's location could be lost forever." Herbert sighed. While Olson's voice and gestures were loud and obnoxious, Herbert's were the direct opposite: quiet and withdrawn.
"A 'andful still lives to t'is day." Olson, finding that he drank all of his rum, smashed the bottle on the wooden dock floor, shattering it. He then proceeded to reach behind the box he was leaning on to get another bottle of rum. "And Verdelion 'as 'is log that 'as everyt'ing about t'e treasure. T'e location, t'e details of w'at's in it..."
"Come to think of it, aren't the military searching for the treasure as well? I heard the famous sheriff of Piltover is also close to finding it as well..." Herbert went off into a solitary muttering as Olson paid no mind and kept drinking. Conversations like this were the topic of interest to many explorers, but these two sounded like they knew about something that others did not.
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