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Imagine space.
In the cosmic void, a single dot journeys over the astral landscape, the shape is not a star, comet, or even a space-ship, it is a turtle, a large one, huge, in fact, some might even say ‘Massive’ It’s shell and head are pocked by thousands of craters,
It is the Great A’tuin, Star Turtle, one of the few Astrochelonienas left in the void. On it’s back, stand the Megapachyderms, four elephants, they, in turn, hold the Discworld, glittering oceans’ fall off the flat landscape in a neverending waterfall, the bright axis of Cori Celesti, the center of the Disc and the home of the gods, spins.
At the spiritual center of the Disc, Ankh-Morpork, the rain fell.
In the nighttime, in the Citie of one thousand Surprises the rain fell.
It drummed of to the roof of the opera house, adding a beat to the soprano voices within, it ran in the gutters of the shades, giving drunks a much-needed bath, it pounded off the Tower of Art, Turned the Mud* of the cattle yards into a foul-smelling brown runny paste, it flooded the basements of the Unseen University, making the rats and roaches have to take to their boats again.*
The Rain rebounded off of the cobbled streets of Peach Pie Street, where two hooded figures stood and realized that maybe the cheap coats form MR Dibbler were not the best thing to try to keep the rain out.
“I’m soaking.” Said one.
“I am to, so shut up and wait.” Said the other on, in a deeper voice.
After a while of listening to the rain and the occasional splatter as the occupants of the city took the opportunity of nighttime rian to empty their chmaberpots into their neighbor’s gardens, the first one spoke up again.
“He’s not here.” It said.
The Second one glanced down the street in an exaggerated movement. “Really?” it said. “And there I thought he was standing in front of us, daft ol’ me.” It said in an irritated tone.
A figure wandered out of the dripping night.
“Is that it?” asked the first man.
As the apparition drew closer, the two could hear a muttering.
“Bugrit, Mellenium hand and shrimp, I TOLD ‘im, I TOLD ‘im, the Grawny man!”
The second figure sighed. “That’s just Foul ‘ol Ron.” He grumbled, the two, for want of anything better to do, watched the mutterer shamble off into the night.
The rain continued to pour down, a few citytime noises punctuated the thumping.
The first figure felt something tap his shoulder, he turned around.
“Oh.” He said.
He apparition in front of him was also hooded and clacked, it held a metal object in each hand, each object was only the size of a can opener with a handle, the man who turned never had time to even say “Who the hell are you?” before the figure pointed the spring-gonne at the man’s face and pulled the trigger.
The bolt passed through bone and flesh like it did through the air.
The second man yelped and dragged a large crossbow form under his coat as well as a tube of some sort.
The assassin raised the second Spring-Gonne and fired another bolt into the fellow’s throat. The man gurgled horribly before falling to the ground.
Their killer stepped lightly over the first body and picked up the bow. It fired the bolt into the wall behind it and tossed the crossbow away.
Gingerly picking up the tube, it secreted it away under its black cloak and picked up the bodies.
It walked up the cobbled street, dragging the corpses behind it.
Presently, there was a splash.


(Consult interest thread for rules and races)

well, this is depressing.

Most think about the text and understand it. Must.

what?

That I need to read this very well, and then think deep about it to understand it together with my tiny brain.

ah. I see.