Here I am. Alone as ever. Dead on the surface, dead again inside. I have been Jack. I have fought devils. I have survived, and in all my time in Fallen London, I have never allowed anyone to get hold of my soul, and I never will. But I am alone. Terribly alone. I now understand that perhaps, out there in the dark channels of The Flit, or in the submarine depths of the Unterzee, there might be kindred spirits. People who have studiously shovelled weasels, goldfish and booze into gigantic ungenerous plants. People who have things to share. People who can help me work out how in the name of all that’s holy I can breed a sodding hound of heaven after trying every beast on every option with or without redolence - (or at least I think so).
So, I call out to you. Without bothering the people on my timeline, how am I expected to discover people willing to joust plants? To discuss the extraordinary things offered by the relickers for my healthy pile of scraps. To work out why I can’t seek Mr Eaten’s name anymore when I still am desperately curious (NOOOOO) , to help understand my aborted attempts to breed a hound of heaven. The Fate locked WIKI makes it terribly strange for us - we loners. Maybe it’s time for me to stop being so alone. How does this happen?