A Deal with Isery

**A Deal with Isery** is a Sunless Sea Character Story Event.

## Trigger conditions

**A Deal with Isery** is triggered when you do the **Discuss the Well-Travelled Notary's memories** action in  An Offer of Patronage or  Port Cavendish.

## Character description

The Cat's Chiefest Claw meets you in their suite with a distracted air and a raised eyebrow.

You raise the matter of the Well-Travelled Notary's memories. Isery taps clawed finger-rings on the stem of a wine glass; the sound is silvery and sharp. "I see someone's been talking. I'm reluctant: the notary only has a taste or two left in him. I was saving them for myself - this Nidah business... fascinating."

## Interactions

It's enough for a whole shipment of red honey.
 600 x Echo | **The flight from Nidah**
Isery removes a jar from a teak cabinet, and a spoon of tarnished silver from a drawer. They set them on the desk before you. You scrape out the dregs of crimson honey - barely a spoonful. You lick it clean, and the memories take you.
You remember panic, disaster! Disassociated fragments of a wild flight. Heat - intolerable heat! You stumbled, and the gemmed flagstones burned your hands. You regained your feet. Behind you came the Host of Hyenas, fresh from the city of Caution, laughing as they slew.
Through the broken Persimmon Gate, still littered with corpses. The basalt walls at your back, now: black against the blazing shoulder of the Mountain. And how it blazed! Bright as the sun's skin! Only your goggles of smoked glass kept your eyes from boiling.
You remember the desperate journey back down the scarlet river, on living Polythremi ships that grieved for those left behind. A man leans on the rail: black shirt, a church dog-collar. Your employer, Lytton. He turns to look at you, and he is bereft. Off the port side, a ship expires from grief and sinks into the red, red waters.
The memories falter. You return to the Isle of Cats. Isery is there, reading. "Ah, you're back. Interesting, no? Someone tried to steal the Presbyterate's immortality. I'd say they were bold, but they failed, which makes them stupid. Still, they got close..."
Lytton: it is a name you've heard before. It belongs to a certain Fierce Philanthropist, who resides in Port Carnelian.
 Ambition: Death Hath no more Dominion = 30 [Pursue your ambition at Port Carnelian, with the Fierce Philanthropist.]
"But we've achieved so much together, haven't we? Very well. For you, and only you."
Isery removes a jar from a teak cabinet, and a spoon of tarnished silver from a drawer. They set them on the desk before you. You scrape out the dregs of crimson honey - barely a spoonful. You lick it clean, and the memories take you.
You remember panic, disaster! Disassociated fragments of a wild flight. Heat - intolerable heat! You stumbled, and the gemmed flagstones burned your hands. You regained your feet. Behind you came the Host of Hyenas, fresh from the city of Caution, laughing as they slew.
Through the broken Persimmon Gate, still littered with corpses. The basalt walls at your back, now: black against the blazing shoulder of the Mountain. And how it blazed! Bright as the sun's skin! Only your goggles of smoked glass kept your eyes from boiling.
You remember the desperate journey back down the scarlet river, on living Polythremi ships that grieved for those left behind. A man leans on the rail: black shirt, a church dog-collar. Your employer, Lytton. He turns to look at you, and he is bereft. Off the port side, a ship expires from grief and sinks into the red, red waters.
The memories falter. You return to the Isle of Cats. Isery is there, reading. "Ah, you're back. Interesting, no? Someone tried to steal the Presbyterate's immortality. I'd say they were bold, but they failed, which makes them stupid. Still, they got close..."
Lytton: it is a name you've heard before. It belongs to a certain Fierce Philanthropist, who resides in Port Carnelian.
Enough for a whole shipment of red honey, and an additional payment to sweeten Isery's opinion of you. You understand they like sapphires.
 600 x Echo
 5 x A Casket of Sapphires | **The flight from Nidah**
Isery removes a jar from a teak cabinet, and a spoon of tarnished silver from a drawer. They set them on the desk before you. You scrape out the dregs of crimson honey - barely a spoonful. You lick it clean, and the memories take you.
You remember panic, disaster! Disassociated fragments of a wild flight. Heat - intolerable heat! You stumbled, and the gemmed flagstones burned your hands. You regained your feet. Behind you came the Host of Hyenas, fresh from the city of Caution, laughing as they slew.
Through the broken Persimmon Gate, still littered with corpses. The basalt walls at your back, now: black against the blazing shoulder of the Mountain. And how it blazed! Bright as the sun's skin! Only your goggles of smoked glass kept your eyes from boiling.
You remember the desperate journey back down the scarlet river, on living Polythremi ships that grieved for those left behind. A man leans on the rail: black shirt, a church dog-collar. Your employer, Lytton. He turns to look at you, and he is bereft. Off the port side, a ship expires from grief and sinks into the red, red waters.
The memories falter. You return to the Isle of Cats. Isery is there, reading. "Ah, you're back. Interesting, no? Someone tried to steal the Presbyterate's immortality. I'd say they were bold, but they failed, which makes them stupid. Still, they got close..."
Lytton: it is a name you've heard before. It belongs to a certain Fierce Philanthropist, who resides in Port Carnelian.
 Ambition: Death Hath no more Dominion = 30 [Pursue your ambition at Port Carnelian, with the Fierce Philanthropist.]
 -600 x Echo