>>5682966>>568321307 VII: The CHARIOT
Enoch Lusk, a brawler, coachman and carriage driver.
The driver suddenly lunges forward with a choked, gargled roar and for a moment, you fear he is about to seize you by the throat, hurl himself at you in the fisticuffs of some pugilist affray. You are on the verge of raising your arms to defend yourself, but you see he has fallen short, having doubled over with what you now realise is laughter, convulsions twitching the length of his squat yet sinewy neck.
-Ha! I have been stabbed I have, stabbed with laughter! Aha ha ha! Me? Me?! You be taking me for some meat-smoked Yengeese foreigner? Ha, ha! I am saying to you, I swears I have become a stranger in my own country, I have. This city is full of too many foreigners, farlanders. Them that knows not how we wot spake proper and have you. Like them Fenians. The bomb-throwers, from the Fens. Heathens the lot of them, pagans - famine take them! though I hears the oldest of them fled over the sea to the colonies and they made him emperor in his white house over there. Then there are the Gorsedd - them of the lilting voice that worships fairy foppery and trees, and the dour Dalriada, the kilted mountain men. They are fond of wearing skirts and showing their knees...
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>write-in an enthusiastic xenophobic tirade to gain the trust of Enoch Lusk