Regarding The Cloak & Dagger Gazette

(Clears throat. Takes a swig of ale. Sets tankard down with a thud.)

Ladies, gentlemen, cutthroats, and those who prefer not to be identified by the Shrouded Council...

Gather 'round. Settle down. And for the love of whatever gods still listen in this godforsaken city, stop picking your neighbor's pockets long enough to hear what I have to say.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Another bard? Another song? Another ballad about how the Shrouded are corrupt and the Temple's mutton is imaginary?"

Yes. But this time, I'm not singing it. I'm printing it.

What Is This Madness?

Some of you have heard whispers. Some of you have seen the broadsheets tucked under loose stones behind the temple. Some of you have read the words of a certain halfling bastard who thinks stealing from nobles is a moral stance rather than a crime.

You've been asking: "Where does Cloakmoor go when the protagonist isn't looking?"

"What does the Shrouded Council say when they think no one's listening?"

"Does Brother Aldwin actually have mutton, or is this a cruel joke played on the starving?"

The answer to all of these questions is: The Cloak & Dagger Gazette – a newspaper published by nobody, for everyone, on stolen paper, with a publication date somewhere between "yesterday" and "whenever the Shrouded decide to ban it."

Why a Newspaper?

Because newspapers are alive. A map tells you where things are. A lore document tells you what things are. A newspaper tells you what things were yesterday and what they might be tomorrow. It breathes. It gossips. It gets things wrong and prints corrections nobody reads.

Also, I wanted an excuse to write classified ads for alibis and lost dignity. We all have our reasons.

What You'll Find in Each Issue

• News from the Shrouded Council — filtered through the lens of someone who thinks they're corrupt (because they are)
• Crime reports — because Cloakmoor runs on theft and the Gazette refuses to pretend otherwise
• Drowned Pirate updates — Barik's latest violence, the Wall of Regret's newest additions, and the skeleton's continued silence
• Temple dinner announcements — Brother Aldwin swears it's mutton this week. It is not mutton this week.
• Letters to the Editor — where concerned citizens write in to complain and the editor tells them no
• Prices from the Turned Coin market — because even criminals need to budget

Final Words

I could've written a lore wiki. I could've made a glossary. I could've done what every other fantasy author does and given you an appendix full of names nobody can pronounce.

Instead, I made something that feels like it belongs on a bar table in the Drowned Pirate – stained with ale, read by someone who can't afford the news but steals it anyway.

That's the whole pitch.

If that sounds like your kind of newspaper, subscribe. It will drop every Friday morning. If it doesn't, the Shrouded Council publishes official bulletins. I hear they're very informative.

A Word From The Editor

"We are proud to bring you the truth, mostly. Our publication date is intentionally vague because time is of no importance to someone who can die at any moment in this wretched city. The Shrouded Council has not endorsed this publication. They have also not banned it, which we interpret as a form of passive approval."

(Raises tankard.)

To Cloakmoor. May it never improve.

(Drinks.)