CHAPTER 2
You're on the city square.
There is a man here that looks deathly ill. Boils and flaming wounds fester on his rag covered, oil soaked body. He sleeps his head of matted hair on a thick leatherbound book.
"Pay no mind...I've been cursed! Just go away..."
"Cursed?"
"By the Raven Dog! Pray man, don't look into the eyes of that terrible hound..." he coughs "A terrible beast...kept by the Overlord Mantle, so-called Chief of Thieves...usurer! He...!"
The man recoils in pain. White phlegm spits out from his mouth; his eyes and lips go blank.
A voice booms from some windspire above, the one that oversees the square:
"That is what happens to people that don't respect us! You get it? Curse the name of the Lord, and you will feel the pain!"
The black tower groans and mouths out wind, cracking lash:
"You face the black dog now! This our city, boy, and we've seen you! You face the black dog, now, and you won't escape without tribute!"
"But you best not be thinking that what you be having with you is sufficient, no! You better have a goldmine up your purses if you be wanting to leave Blackmine! Because you face the black dog, now! And dont you be thinking you can fight it, no, because else you better come ready! Because we will meet you with bows, spears, swords, maces guns and all else; all for that money you be owing us!"
"So you better be thinking instead that you come here, to our lair, and put your head in a nice platter of silver! Because we the black dogs won't be leaving this city without a fortune in our hands, boy! And you better that good for nothing enslavener cur down there that if he be thinking he can get us, he's dead wrong! Dead! Wrong!"