Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5583506-20160602184114/@comment-5543592-20160610025917

Lazarus Grimm wrote:

A quill was put down next to the contract for Geralt. "Just leave your signature in the bottom right corner", said the man. "And you can expect some down payment before you leave this building. You will receive more once the assignment has been carried out." Geralt did so, scrawling it onto paper without much flair, and then turning to head out the door without another word to his employers.

Yeomen's home was a small apartment space, with on entire wall dedicated to portraits, sketches, notes, and red lines of thread criss-crossing all of them.

It had a small kitchen, a table with one chair, a sitting area that had a coffee table piled high with books, a closest door, and then a wooden cot with a thin mattress and a pillow that hung nailed to the wall, and could be folded up if he wanted to give the sitting area more room.

Yeomen stuck his Man-catcher in the corner by the front door to his flat, then crossed to his diagram. His life's work was on it, every connection he had ever made.

He added two more, adding a note that read 'mice' with a thread connecting it to another note that read 'Something harnessing the common person's thoughts?'. That had a lines connecting it to sketches of varying cosmeic dieties, from Vaermina, to the Night Mother, to large note that said in big blocky letters 'NONE OF THIS IS REAL.'"

It had been a particularly lonely day when Yeomen had written that last one.

Satisfied, he stripped down, tucking his outfit away into the storage chest that sat underneath his bed, and then crawled onto his mattress to go to sleep.