Hearts of Darkness

“Yes, it is but passage through the Dark Kingdoms is always expensive, friend. Guaranteed safety is precious. Few people can be trusted and even fewer have established the necessary oases of safety. Out of all the smugglers that claim to be able to make the journey, you know how many I'd trust with my skin? Three.” Grimmean puffed on his piped, and leaned back, exhaling slowly. The uner-smoke lingered in the air like ghostly banners.

Toque tapped the table while he thought. Grimmean was right in that the Dark Kingdom's were consistently rumored to be dangerous, tilting somewhere between tyranny, civil unrest, and outright barbarism. At least that was the word according to those that had been there. Stories that made their way from any of the thirteen plus Kingdoms shared certain traits: lawlessness, brutality, and a worship of things best left undiscovered. Toque didn't trust the word of men he'd never met. Yet it could be foolish, if not fatal, to not give some credence to that kind of persistent warning.