Vintage Story Wiki
Panopticon Letters (BR)
Lore section: panopticonletters
betterruins:panopticonletters
· from betterruins
Letters from detainees scattered throughout the underground.
Found in structures (1)
bookshelf: a lore bookshelf for this section; placed: this exact book sits in a container or on the ground; random loot: a loot roll in the structure can produce it. Read from the structure's schematics, so it shows where the game can put it, not a drop chance.
| Structure | Kind | How it is found |
|---|---|---|
| thepanopticon | storystructure | random loot placed |
Text
Even with all these folks suffering alongside me I’ve never felt more lonely.
The wardens see to that. Any attempt at fraternizing will be met with accusations of spreading the plague first and accusations of staging a rebellion second. And it’ll see both parties made into a display for the rest.
I only hope the black sick takes us all quickly.
The wardens see to that. Any attempt at fraternizing will be met with accusations of spreading the plague first and accusations of staging a rebellion second. And it’ll see both parties made into a display for the rest.
I only hope the black sick takes us all quickly.
What is this mistreatment?!
I am Faris Hussain, heir to the throne of Derabul. I have come to expect better than this!
On a routine mercantile journey to share the finest silks with the world I find myself led down into a damp dark crevice.
My silks have been torn and turned to cleaning rags. Horrible! These brutish labourers would not know value if it stared them in the face. Yet I am stuck with them here. The lazarettos I have visited at least possessed some semblance of privacy, so what is this claim of quarantine? It is nonsense. I will have a word with these enforcers about granting me exit. They are certain to understand. Even if they do not, they will understand the wealth that awaits them for making exceptions for the exceptional.
I am Faris Hussain, heir to the throne of Derabul. I have come to expect better than this!
On a routine mercantile journey to share the finest silks with the world I find myself led down into a damp dark crevice.
My silks have been torn and turned to cleaning rags. Horrible! These brutish labourers would not know value if it stared them in the face. Yet I am stuck with them here. The lazarettos I have visited at least possessed some semblance of privacy, so what is this claim of quarantine? It is nonsense. I will have a word with these enforcers about granting me exit. They are certain to understand. Even if they do not, they will understand the wealth that awaits them for making exceptions for the exceptional.
After a journey so long and troublesome and the labor that followed I was hoping to rest, but I am not sure this is what I was asking for. Sitting still like so, it makes me antsy. I did not mind the work. The work is why I came here. A message came that workers were required, and I had wished to leave the city for a time now. My colleagues are a friendly and curious people. They have many questions of my lands, which I answer for them with glee!
When this all is over I will show them the giant rafflesia that grow plentifully around my home.
When this all is over I will show them the giant rafflesia that grow plentifully around my home.
I have devised a plan of escape. Writing this record will help me commit it to memory and will surely drive these wardens mad with rage when they realize they have been outsmarted by the great Weasel!
I was never a good swimmer, but I can hold my breath for very long, and the old sewers are small enough to navigate by touch. My rotten hand still registers faint sensations. And the light pouring in through the grates will stand out in that impenetrable dark. Grates that are so rusty they will surely fall apart at my touch.
I will wait around for some-one or some other to inevitably draw the ire of the wardens. They like to gather everyone up, make this big spectacle. Under cover of this chaos I shall set my grand plan in motion, slip into the canals and unto the sewers, and warn the world of the injustices enacted by the Svanmarck family.
I was never a good swimmer, but I can hold my breath for very long, and the old sewers are small enough to navigate by touch. My rotten hand still registers faint sensations. And the light pouring in through the grates will stand out in that impenetrable dark. Grates that are so rusty they will surely fall apart at my touch.
I will wait around for some-one or some other to inevitably draw the ire of the wardens. They like to gather everyone up, make this big spectacle. Under cover of this chaos I shall set my grand plan in motion, slip into the canals and unto the sewers, and warn the world of the injustices enacted by the Svanmarck family.