Tattered Alice lingers in Fisher’s Folly, near the Leaky Dinghy, living on scraps and the odd coin from a sympathetic passerby. Tearing at her clothes with her nails, she shouts dire warnings and prophecies. Awakening dark gods, plagues of sea devils, a conspiracy by the Storm Lords to poison the water supply—these and other dark portents have passed her lips.
Tattered Alice is unusual for a prophet; so far as anyone has been able to tell, not one of her dire predictions has come to pass. Strangely, the district’s fisherfolk take this to be a mark of divinity, that she somehow prevents these terrible futures. Some come to see her simply to be reassured that none of these dire things will happen.