I was born in the City of Masks and am the epitome of its children, a true son. Both of my parents are citizens but they are not of the city. They housed, fed me, and clothed me. The city, however, took care of my education, informed me about the nature of people, and helped shaped my morals. The city held me close to its heart and in return I flourished.
The harbor disgorges the faceless many; the curious, the hopeful, those seeking delights, and even some who would drink the water of Lethe. These strangers showed me how people treat one another, what our value is to one another. The lowliest of beggars should be revered. They are often richer in faith than any Hellknight bearing a longsword and wreathed in armor. Walk through the city with both eyes open, ignorance should be expunged from oneself.
Our city is here to indulge in. Wait for a fair price. We honor all coin. No tariff or tax will greet you at the gate. We have no registers in which we record your name. We will welcome you no matter what mask you use to obfuscate yourself with. Your secrets are your own. We understand their value and want nothing more for those confidences to be kept safe.
My family runs an inn within the Vise where my siblings and I took care of the many. Every visitor, every person who darkens our doorstep comes seeking something. I learned over time it is a type of worship, a silent prayer as one wends their way through the crowd. One whisper can be lost but with so many voices it is instead a tumultuous roar. If any one person hears you over the ruckus, that person is worthy of adulation.
As I worked for my parents, I learned to observe and to hold my tongue. A person who will keep the secrets of all those around him, someone who understands that closed doors should remain closed, is exalted. The proprietress of The Dancing Cat noticed me and hired me to protect her guest’s anonymity. She is the one who first set my feet upon the path that makes me the man I am today.
Sometimes in our city people die due to indulgence. If we can send a traveler home, that is always our first choice, but some travelers have no home to return to. When this happens, The Blissful Abattoir comes into play. More than once have I run to bring about the Collectors to gather up the poor soul. They are always very respectful and never fail to invoke the name of Pharasma. Their distinctive orange robes and beaked masks are quite a somber affair, like the psychopomps that serve that goddess. Their Abbot is an educated fellow and has often gone out of his way to enlighten me, for which I am grateful. Without him I do not know if I would ever found my faith. Just last year, during midwinter, I brought my brother to help us celebrate Ascension Day. The Abbot says I show potential. One day I may join the Monastery of the Veil, where all take a vow of silence.
Currently however, I learned that Queen Abrogail II is looking for people to assist her. Some foreign powers have invaded a small village in our nation and House Thrune has created a compact, calling all of the nation to aid in repelling the occupying force. While I do not agree with her religion, I do know that this is my mandate. I shall go and discover all I can. Do not look for me, I will ever be just another face in the crowd.
Nemo
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