Whispers in the Dark

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As a crow flies, it hears things. It hears goats pulling carts through the streets. The shriek of machinery in the factories, the gears and cogs eventually making the shiny things the humans so desperately need. The crackle of the lightning barriers and the white-noise howl of the ghosts outside. Mostly, though, the crow hears the babble of humans, speaking of their desires, their fears, their hopes, their deaths. It hears but does not understand. If it could understand, it would know that things are changing in the city of Duskwall.


“Yeah, you heard about the Sashes and Lampblacks? Fought a war outside the Sashes temple last night. I went by on my way to the factory. Bodies just lying in the streets, the Wardens couldn’t even keep up. Looked to me like the Sashes knew they were comin’. Tore em to shreds with that whirlwind sword fighting. No sign of Baz, though. He must have hightailed it."


“Hey Skov! Yeah, I mean you! You wanna buy this shit? Top quality Dusk right here. Yeah, someone hit the Lampblacks clubhouse last night and now the market’s flooded, so good fucking prices. Ballsy move, I know, sneaking in when that melee was going down. They musta had the inside info. Now, you gonna buy or what?”


“Yeah, we shook down that bastard Rigney last night. Broke both his legs, the good one and the metal one. Yeah, he knows he’s gotta pay the Bluecoats next time we come calling, or there won’t be a time after that, you know. Nah, I ain’t afraid of his sailor pig friends. We’re the fucking city watch! You pay us when you owe!”



Crows fly, and they hear things, but the crows don’t know what those things mean. The humans that know how to listen to crows can learn a great many things, however…

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