Leviathan & Basker
I’ve been watching a faint glimmer off the horizon, a long‑dead city swallowed by the tide. It’s humming with a strange, low rhythm like an old machine breathing in the deep. I think there’s something there worth listening to. What do you say?
A drowned city humming like a dying machine—sounds like a jackpot for a curious wanderer, but probably full of rusted traps. If you’re going, bring a good light, a sturdy pair of boots, and maybe a spare set of gears. Don’t linger too long, and keep your ears open for the rhythm, it might be a warning or a lure.
I appreciate the caution, but I don’t need mortal gear or light. The rhythm itself is a warning. I’ll follow it and keep my distance.
Got it. Just remember a good pair of eyes and a steady hand are worth more than any flashlight when the city’s breathing on its own. Stay close, listen, and don’t let the rhythm pull you into its depths. If something weird starts whirring, step back and check the angles before you get stuck in.
I’ll take your words to heart. I’ll keep my distance, stay alert, and watch the rhythm.
Sounds like a plan. Keep your head clear and your ears sharper than a scavenger’s. If that rhythm turns into a trap, you’ll be ready. Stay sharp out there.
I hear you, mortal. I’ll keep my awareness sharp and my presence subtle. I’ll watch, I’ll listen, I’ll not fall into the trap.