In reality the Vicar is unassuming. Reserved. Meek even. He is a wobbly, knobbly swayer in tyrian-and-tweed vestis talaris. He can look off to the side like a pro. The road you are standing near has a fair bit of dust rising up from it, and some of the particles poke fun at him as they sail past. He asks no tricky questions. He takes the Dress in his hands and looks at it like he has never touched such an Artifact before, and like he does not know what to make of it. Within two minutes of meeting you he has invited you to the City to pursue your Vocation. He gives you a pamphlet called How to Vacate and ambles elsewhere without properly ending the conversation, and afterwards you can’t remember any of the words that were said.

Prepare to Vacate