My name is Cormac and I, pardon my French, am a motherfucking journalist! I’m the founding father and, for now, single member of the Academy of Gonzo Journalism. Why would anyone rely on gossip and hearsay spouted by bawdy bards, tacky towns criers and desperate housewives when, in exchange for a little coin, the truth can be obtained straight from the horses mouth, i.e. yours truly?
Some call me a Herald, but I prefer the term investigative journalistp. The most reliable news is that which has been experienced personally, chased, fought over and dragged straight from the dragon’s lair. It is true that I am a bard, and I do play the pipes, and possess various other qualities, but I am not your average entertainer.
I don’t serve boring soliloquies like the lackluster thespians, or try to quench your thirst with base entertainments like the carnie people do, no, I pride myself in bringing you the most outlandish, exquisite dish known to man, infused with spices of faraway travels, and enriched with all the juicy ingredients that your corrupt rulers and stuffy authorities do not want you to taste; I bring you stories filled to the brim with truth, joyous, amazing, miraculous truth, for which I live and die!
I’m currently working with the Adventurers Guild and am in the middle of uncovering a major conspiracy, a tale of power and corruption, of greed and murder. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, and when I’m done storytelling, please don’t forget to leave a few coppers in my hat. Guardians of truth also need a place to sleep.
If you ever need me you can always recognize me by my chequered cap, or you could ask around for the Pied Piper of Faerun. Let my reference to that grim tale also be a reminder: when dealing with me, don’t lie, and please don’t fuck me over, because you don’t want to end up like the people of Hamlin, do you now?
PC van Mulders