shipwrecked on an uncharted shore our hero awakes to find himself in the captivity of the cruel port authorities, they impound his music and smash his hands with hammers so his twisted fingers can no longer use his devices. But struggling onwards as ever our hero has an ace in his sleeve, wrist mounted crossbows concealed beneath his coat. At dusk most of the officials return to their greasy beds in their ice covered hovels and eat their rations, infested with maggots, washed down with a watery beer made from the poor grain the officials steal from local trade ships. They torture small animals to pass the time and smoke bitter black cigarettes that smell like burning roots. As night falls only two guards remain and he seizes the chance, takes aim and fires hitting both guards in the heart with the deadly poison tipped arrows. He pulls in the keys with an arrow and carefully inserts it into the lock. removing his laptop he steals into the darkness towards the docks. The docks hold many houses and taverns, drunken sailors jossle with local officals and recieve a baton for their trouble, old men vomit into the gutters and cough up blood as they reload their pipes. the taste of coal and oil mix with the fog from the sea and hang heavy over the streets in ominous swathes. up ahead a light burning brighter than the crude oil lamps of the streetside taverns and brothels, glass tinted to rose and magenta falling onto the cobbles. a figure slips through the door unseen by all and into the soft light of a church. standing in the shadows coloured shards of light like pieces of broken glass cut across the high vaulted hall and incense burners smoulder in the corners slowly whilst a thousand candles burn around the alter. the figure moves towards the darkest recess of the great hall, he slips along the back wall and through the pews until he comes to a small enclave set back from the body of the building, stepping into its shadows he falls to his knees infront of the wooden rails and digs his hands into the carpet. Taking a moment to rest he raises his head and lights a single candle held in the middle of the rail. He stares into the ominous gloom and removes his gloves, taking a gold coin from his pocket and placing it on the ground. He fumbles slightly as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small flask, he unscrews the lid and drinks deeply from it. placing it to his right he bends forward and gently touches his lips to the coin. As he gazes up at the statue his lips begin to move.......