02 7 / 2012
“There.” A bony finger pointed past the rotting scaffolding and ropes, and the voice that came with it coughed, wheezing of ashes and opium. “The Manticore. Thirty spans long, fifteen spans wide, and once the fastest ship to sail the empire’s skies. Eh. Once.”
A coughing fit, a wheeze that ended in caustic hacking. The voice spat on the creaky, dusty floorboards. A pair of well-worn leather boots stepped away in time as something wet and yellow landed splat on the ground.
The voice audibly cleared its sinuses. “The ship’s been left here for the past ten years. Took too long for that uncle of yours to be done in by his wretched pederasty and drinking. There’s the ship, and the engine within her. The cunt’s yours, and good riddance to both of you if you sail off the edge of the bleeding beyond.”