Mid Game Leak to Daily Splat Reporter

Interaction sent to Froggy Fresh as The Daily Splat News Reporter in between FRPG sessions.

You are having a late lunch at the Murky Waters, contemplating your latest interactions and investigations into Jimmyโ€™s murder after chatting with Busta Slimes earlier in the day. The door to the kitchen gently clatters shut behind the bartender, out for a smoke, leaving you alone in the bar. You are lost in the depths of your Hoptini, when your shoulder is shaken by an unfamiliar frog, not a face you recognize.

โ€œYouโ€™re thaโ€™ tabloid reporter, The Daily Splat? I got somethinโ€™ you oughta know.โ€

You nod, bemusedly, and begin to reach for your pen and paper.

โ€œNo! No recordinโ€™, no writing โ€˜bout me. Not ma name. I got enough dirt out there โ€˜bout me, I donโ€™ need no trouble.โ€

โ€œOkay,โ€ you respond slowly. โ€œWhat can I write about, if not about you?โ€

โ€œDonโ€™ need to be โ€˜bout me. Jusโ€™ what I saw.โ€

โ€œโ€ฆand what did you see?โ€

โ€œI seen The Knee. Jimmyโ€ฆhis dead body.โ€

You sit back, unimpressed. โ€œThatโ€™s old news. Heโ€™s been dead for over a week now, havenโ€™t you looked at a paper lately?โ€

The stranger leans forward intently, grabbing you by the wrist. โ€œNah ser, I seen him. I seen him jusโ€™ last night, and he was deadโ€ฆbut not dead for days, not all bloated anโ€™ smelly and goinโ€™ rancidโ€ฆJimmy was still warm, ser.โ€

You rock back in your seat, shocked. Glance around, the bar is still empty, no one to hear what youโ€™re hearing. You work to commit to memory what this frog is saying, straining to hear as he drops to a whisper.

โ€œThe Kneeโ€ฆstill warm, blood all sticky-like, not even dry. Damn near tripped oโ€™er him when I was out takinโ€™ a piss. Lemme tell ya, I ainโ€™t never gonna take a leak in the woods again that late at night. Didnโ€™ know what tโ€™do, so I gave a croak to thโ€™ crime tip line, but ya never knowโ€ฆcops cover up most everythinโ€™ these days. Figure I got one chance to tell the real story, anโ€™ youโ€™re it. Now Iโ€™m done, you goโ€™n write that up in yer paper anโ€™ leave me outta it.โ€

The stranger slides off the barstool, and is out the door before you have a chance to say anything else. The bartender appears, back from his smoke break, and freshens your drink that the stranger had somehow chugged. What a story this will makeโ€ฆ

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