Nuncio

Nuncio
Nuncio (Map)
Nuncio (Gazetteer)
Located in	Rattsey
Ports	McMaster's Haven
Shops	Harbour Provisioners
Shipyard	No
Data ID	143367

"DO NOT RETURN, SENDER."

Nuncio is an island dominated by a massive statue of a crowned postman holding aloft a rat. Stories and a shop were added to Nuncio in the Diamond release.

Rattus Faber Assistants will disappear from the hold upon entering the ocean around Nuncio.

Port interactions

Nuncio

"Taciturn functionaries walk the docks, in the uniforms of postmen. An enormous crowned statue casts a chilling shadow.The shadows gleam with rats' eyes. Their ceaseless chittering rolls like the tide."

Actions	Requirements	Effects	Notes
Go to the postmen's tavern The Inky Blotter, it's called. The sign doesn't look like much.	-	Warmer inside than it looks Faces turn in your direction, but no one seems surprised to have a new arrival on the island. Triggers event: The Inky Blotter
Explore along the beach There's a long stretch of shale, dotted with washed-up kegs and barrels and smaller flotsam.		Shifty going The rocks slip and slither underfoot, but you keep your balance. Triggers event: Nuncio Beach
Try a shift at the Dead Letter Office There is a sign of a cancelled stamp over the door.	Nuncio: Worker in Dead Letters = 1 [Invited to Serve]	Extensive tour Blunt Thomas takes you around the office: a small collection room where those retrieving letters may state their business. A much larger set of back offices where newly arrived letters and parcels are collected and sorted. A dank, briny smell that never goes away, presumably because so many of the parcels spent time in the water before they arrived here. In the back room is a machine manned (ratted?) by a Postal Rat, a Rattus Faber in a pinstriped hat. It shovels sludge-damp letters into the machine's hopper and they come out dried, cleaned, pressed, and sorted into slots by size and quality of paper. Nuncio: Worker in Dead Letters = 2 [Working Shifts] Triggers event: Shiftwork in the Dead Letter Office
Do some more shiftwork at the Dead Letter Office It seems to be the chief occupation hereabouts.	Nuncio: Worker in Dead Letters ≥ 2	The bell chimes above the door The fellow manning Collections looks awake for half a second when you come in, until he realizes you're here to relieve him. Triggers event: Shiftwork in the Dead Letter Office
Assemble a Port Report You may not be very familiar with the locals yet, but you can provide a preliminary overview.	0 x A Port Report: Nuncio Nuncio: Cultivating Friendships with Postmen ≤ 0 Nuncio: Learned in Postal Secrets ≤ 7	Surface details There's the statue in the middle of the island. That's hard to miss. There's the way everyone wears a uniform, and the way they call each other by their ranks in the postal service. There's the way the port authorities refer to Regulations. There's the jargon, the curious habit of referring to any used-up thing as 'cancelled', as though the whole world were made of stamps. You write about vestigial bureaucracy and about trappings of order retained far from home. A Port Report: Nuncio = 1
Assemble a Port Report Most of the inhabitants were Londoners once, but that doesn't mean they are now.	0 x A Port Report: Nuncio Nuncio: Cultivating Friendships with Postmen ≥ 1 Nuncio: Learned in Postal Secrets ≤ 7	Uniform behaviour Cataloguing all the peculiarities of the place takes many pages. The tailor who imports gilt buttons and braid just to be able to keep everyone's uniform in condition. The fashion of wearing a postbag with nothing inside. (Wearing it open; wearing it upside down, torn apart, or as a hat; wearing it any way that will show it doesn't have letters in it.) Then there are the sitting rooms papered in cancelled stamps. The bergamot-pomegranate curd on toast. The commerce in rat-corpses. The hatred of cats. The absolute custom against ever issuing a paper invitation for any event no matter how formal. It's the familiarity, the not-quite-London-ness of the place that makes it all so... odd. A Port Report: Nuncio = 1
Assemble a Port Report Those who live here deserve a better justification in the eyes of the world.	0 x A Port Report: Nuncio Nuncio: Learned in Postal Secrets = 8 [Understanding of Postal Work]	The Admiralty won't understand But you can do your best to explain it all anyway. The theology of postal work, the Pull, the scarred obedience of postmen. The attention to detail that is both petty and sacred. The anguish. The camaraderie among the sufferers. The willingness to endure visitors, even visitors who do not understand their tribulations and ask foolish, ill-informed questions. +1 x Memory of Distant Shores A Port Report: Nuncio = 1
Assemble a Port Report The true depravity of the place has never been fully understood.	0 x A Port Report: Nuncio Nuncio: Learned in Postal Secrets = 9 [Bitter about Postal Incompetence]	A portrait gallery You turn your pen to personalities. The graceless, bullying manner of Blunt Thomas. The Hairless Postwoman, never very far from her pint of ale or the fire. The thoughtless machine-work of the Postal Rat, who is so eager to know nothing about the true nature of the Dead Letter Office. You show the postmen as you know they secretly understand themselves: unworthy of their uniforms, outcast from the rest of the Postal Service, a disgrace to their Regulations. +1 x Tale of Terror!! A Port Report: Nuncio = 1
Assemble a Port Report Starting with the beach and the never-ending tide.	0 x A Port Report: Nuncio Nuncio: Learned in Postal Secrets = 10 [At Peace with the Post]	Half marine chart, half poem Never mind who lives here now, or how they came. Nuncio is older than its inhabitants. Its Pull is a glad fury, defying distance and weight and normal currents, so that the messages between beings may survive even when the writers themselves are bones on the sea floor. +1 x Zee-ztory A Port Report: Nuncio = 1
Deliver the Lorn-Fluke The Drownie Postman will take care of the paperwork.	The Fate of Needles = 30 [Bound for Nuncio with the Drownie Postman.]	Accepted into processing The Drownie Postman gestures to a modest pyramid of cargo behind him. "Accept this as thanks. And an apology: I told a small lie. I labelled the package myself, Addressed As, to avert a great disaster. Our King keeps a discreet accord with the Flukes, one which I maintain. Their dead must be appropriately disposed of, using the traditional manner. If this were ten years ago, perhaps the boy could have kept it. But since the lorn-flukes were taught ambition, they are best not antagonised. I will deliver this corpse to my liege. I have no doubt his chef will prepare it most respectfully." The Fate of Needles = 35 [You allowed the Drownies to fulfil their concord with the Lorn-Flukes.] +9 x Bale of Parabola-Linen	Game note: Make sure you have nine empty spaces in your cargo hold.

Triggered events

Your Father's Bones: Reclaiming a Parcel

Your Father's Bones: Reclaiming a Parcel
Category	Story Event
Linked to	Nuncio
Data ID	176405

Huffam told you your father's bones had been sent to 'Mr Voluminous', but misaddressed to 'the wrong door'. So here they must be, somewhere in the crypty windings of the Dead Letter Office.

Your Father's Bones: Reclaiming a Parcel is triggered when you dock in Nuncio if have the following:

0 x Your Father's Bones
Your Father's Bones: A Cold Trail ≥ 50
Memoirs: Your Past = 3 [A Poet]

Actions	Requirements	Effects	Notes
Claim your parcel from the Dead Letter Office You tell your story to the drooping, cadaverous postman behind the grating. He doesn't give any sign of interest or understanding. By the time you've finished your story, you're wondering if he might be dead. Perhaps no one has got around to closing those yellowed and staring eyes. But at last he jerks into life. "What was the name again?"	Your Father's Bones: A Cold Trail ≥ 50 and ≤ 99	So close "I'm sorry," the postman yawns. "I have something under 'Voluminous'; but you'll need to specify the address before I can release it." You begin to protest that it's your father's body that they're holding, but the postman takes refuge in bureaucracy. You do learn that it wasn't addressed to your home; your family home; the Harbourmaster; or any other address you can think of. The postman drums his fingers dispassionately on the oilskin package, just inches away behind the arm-thick iron bars. He sees you crane your neck, and turns it address-side down. "Sorry-we-can't-be-of-any-more-assistance," he chants. Just as you're turning to leave, he adds: "It does list the Fathomking as the return address. Perhaps you can ask him?" +50 x Your Father's Bones: A Cold Trail	Game note: Find the Fathomking's Hold, somewhere in the south or central Unterzee, to continue.
A scarred stone Your father's first name - "ELIAS". He's the only Elias here. But the rest of the name has been smashed away, with one clean blow of a chisel. The rest is only pale scarred rock.	Your Father's Bones: The Fathomking's Key ≤ 0 Your Father's Bones: A Cold Trail ≥ 100 and ≤ 150		Game note: Find the Fathomking's Hold, somewhere in the south or central Unterzee, to continue.
Speak the address "...Ormolu Door, the Echo Bazaar, Beazley's Gate, London." "Here you go," the postman says. He shoves the parcel under the grate without looking at you.	Your Father's Bones: The Fathomking's Key ≥ 1	The opposite of Christmas You are in your cabin, now, fingers trembling as you open the parcel. And there it is: a bundle of brown bones, surmounted by a sad little grin. Your father: and a letter, in arrogantly looped handwriting. "MY ESTEEMED MR PAGES - I learnt all that I may from this unfortunate soul. I thank you for your suggestion. As per our agreement, I enclose the final outcome, as well as a summary of all useful information gleaned. I will be pleased to repeat the experiment, should you wish to name any further suitable subjects. Regards to the Bazaar. Yours, his Complexity, the most Profound and Voracious, etc. etc. F." Two hundred pages of closely written notes in a different script. The secrets revealed therein leave you reeling. +1 x Trophy: A Letter of Commendation +1 x Your Father's Bones +25 x Pages Your Father's Bones: The Fathomking's Key = 0	Game note: You have your father's bones. Bury them in London to win the game.