The Golden Cellar
The rain has been falling on the city of Vellum for three days, a persistent, grey curtain that blurs the edges of the cobblestones and turns the gaslight into a hazy, sickly yellow smear on the wet pavement. You stand in the center of the square, your back to the clock tower, your hands resting lightly on the hilts of your swords. They are not drawn, but the weight of them is a familiar...
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