...is breathing the despair you reek of when death's visit turns your card.
The Reapers awoke. Our affliction is with the Corsairs.
I'm irked that I need repeating myself everywhere.
The name of my choosing is Scarlet, I'm speaking for the Reapers and the great devourer's revered craving.
You run the Freeport in Delta, a place very well placed among the stars, a place interesting to us.
For now, your wishes are heard and I'm binding myself in upholding your claims.
But heed the warning, the Corsairs return for Delta and the hunt begins, the harvest is nigh.
I'm a collector, I'm a harvester, I'm the light's fading at the end of days. Souls make my living and their end is my reward.
This is the Reaper's way, this is what we are.
Delta carries many into the beyond. Give their deaths purpose, send their bodies off for Crete.
Become part of the sacrifice and endure the long night. Every soul you bring buys you time.
To: Scarlet From: Administrator Jennifer Engel Location: Freeport 11 Subject: -
Good Day, Scarlet.
First of all, do I need to call the police or a psychiatrist? I hope you are not one of those people who are sitting in a corner with a knife. Next thing is, you sound like someone who follows the old ways of the Corsairs. I personally call them cannibals because they love to eat human meat. Now, if that is true I sadly have to ban you from my Freeport. I don't want the people I swore to protect eaten by someone. It would be bad press for me. The third thing is that you talk about light and darkness. You either were forgotten by your parents in some dark cellar during your childhood or you are one of those people with a slimy, blue-skinned creature in your spine. We call them infectees. But since your eyes don't glow bright blue-purple, I think it's the first option.
I was once like you, wearing a dark hood, talking in riddles, sitting in a corner with a knife in my hands. Those times are over so I ask you, can you please speak like a normal, human creature. If you are even a human that is. I'm awaiting your answer in normal human language. Thank you.
...is your resolve's breaking under my scythe's chant.
The old ways are not the Reapers' ways. The cycle is ripe and again the great harvest begins.
You were told that I'm binding myself in upholding your claims.
On your Freeport in Delta, for now no soul is carried away by my hand and that of the others.
From others not unlike you, I understood that you prefer sending bodies, pieces and organs. Not liquids, but solids.
I'm a collector, I'm a harvester. I collect blood and harvest souls.
You do the deed and drain the bodies, each single drop a gift, and sending off the corpses for Crete is obsolete.
Commit to the sacrifice. Or stay blind in your lack of the dark, but heed carrying the dead.