After months at sea, stepping off the gangplank and on to the steady, if damp, wood of the quay gives you a profound sense of stability. You’re ready for a fresh start in a new place, ready for adventure.
“You’ll ‘ave to go see the customs officer,” the captain calls down to you from the deck of his ship. He gestures across the bustling dockyard to a squat, square building.
You look up at him questioningly.
He shrugs. “It’s just a formality. They like to keep a record of everyone coming into Antaria.”
You nod and thank him for granting you passage, before pushing your way through the throng of muscle-bound dockworkers and swaggering, half-drunken sailors, breathing in the smells of salt and sweat and fish.
The door to the custom office creaks as you push your way inside. The balding man behind the desk has a brow-beaten look to his shrunken, care-worn face.
He glances up at you from his paperwork and sighs. “Letting anyone in these days,” he mutters under his breath. Then he clears his throat and more loudly says, “I won’t keep you long. Just need you to fill in some of your details for our records.” He slides a form and a quill across the desk towards you. “All standard procedure. Can’t be too careful these days, hey?”
The clerk looks over your form for a moment, nodding. “And, erm, what’s your business here in Antaria?”
“I see,” he says, jotting down some notes, before filing your forms away in a nearby drawer. “I’ll have these sent off to the central bureau first thing in the morning. Welcome to Antaria. I hope you enjoy your stay.”
I'm saddened that I found you so late, but at the same time, this will be so much fun!!!!!
I'm not used to lit rpg, but his is very interesting. The audience participation element works well.