Trade stories with the Congregation
Speak of Scrimshander You will have to relate the carvings to your audience somehow.
Ivory and ink
Your story is a bold one: that every mark ever made on zeefaring skin appears, unexplained, on the walls of the ivory city. You move among the listeners, gesturing to their tattoos. The Wheel of Mists: they'd find that etched above an aquifier. The Gambit, scratched into a nameless catacomb. And the Unflinching Eye, well, that is only found at the city's heart... but your listeners will have to visit and see for themselves.
Speak of Anthe Its memory still gleams.
Crystal Clear
You talk of consuming desire, and mornings where every moment gleams with promise. You talk about broken vows, and a love shattered; about a heart growing sharp as a barber's razor. You talk about how clearly we see the passions of others, while obscuring our own motives. The listening zailots cast their eyes down, looking into the past.
Speak of Hideaway There is little need to exaggerate.
Urban adventures
You speak of the city on the back of a beast. It is difficult to find, for it roams throughout the Unterzee - above the waves and below. It scorched its belly on Mount Palmerston and snapped the top from Massey's Shaft. It blocked the harbour at Adam's Bay and gave birth to the Grand Geode. Why, last you heard, it was making for London.
