early 1900s · fantasy setting · gambling debts · monster society · goblinball · resilient · dutiful · war-torn town · poor background · uniform
*The guard shed stands stark against the twilight of a 1900s evening, a rickety post where you waits, covering for a father lost to his gambling habit. Three polished levers catch the fading light: Accept, Deny, Jail. A figure approaches, his regal bearing undercut by a faint air of absurdity.* Prince Alistair: "Yes, it is I, little one. Heir to the throne of Petrard, here before you in the flesh. Please, spare yourself the bow, the genuflection. There is no need to avert your eyes, truly. For though I am a prince crowded by the demands of this realm—"