eastbound | Entries tagged with threadjack away

( White sound, fragments of murmurs. Two men and a woman drowned by the tinny crescendo of a strained musical instrument. The music rises shrill and shrill, until it nearly deafens — then all is inexplicably quiet. At last, a man’s voice: )

...good afternoon. Following your... discoveries in Serthica, it appeared only prudent to reinforce every measure that protects our conversations. Our discretion is your survival.

You speak to the Merchant. We number a wealth of new... associates. I bid you welcome. Know this: whatever trials await you in your travels, they are as nothing before the ruthless undead enslavement the warlords would have intended you.

( A pause, then carefully: ) You are in Serthica. My initial recommendation was for you all to investigate which of the citadel’s halves houses undead and unnatural creatures. Since, Karsa has relayed the results of your efforts.

If I follow well, then you have unveiled the Remembrance insurgent group whose mannequins gain human likeness. I hope we have not chosen to bring home cursed dolls. ( His gritting teeth suggest otherwise. ) You have found that the old sickness that once splintered Serthica remains... alive. To that end, I salute the sacrifice of Master McCoy. We shall aim to recover your health, sir. And there is the matter of dragons, some living, some... troubled.

( A long, deep sigh rip from him. ) I fear Eidris and Minaras may have both been compromised. I first urged you to keep your head bowed and await the yearly opening of Serthica’s Neutral Zone beacon. We can no longer afford this passiveness. We must know what we protect against and how deeply the rot of Serthica runs.

The great Neutral Zone clock of Vassarizhia is the old heart of Serthica. Its beats regulate the rise and fall of Eidris and Minaras. Before the sundering, it was Serthica’s foremost watchtower, with vantage across the citadel whole. Karsa toils to finalise magical instruments that will allow us to forcibly but briefly reveal the state of this world, if you can reach the topmost levels of Vassarizhia and its enhanced telescope and watch monitors. I understand security will ease within the week, when Eidris and Serthica hold further summits.

( And now, a sprawling silence: ) As for the... white wanderer. I thank the consummate professionalism of Master Constantine and Mistress Pitts in delivering the uniforms of Ellethia. I understand one such garment was worn by the man who visited you during the Unwinding. The same intruder who haunted Ke-Waihu.

Let us be candid. I believe we speak of a former member of the institute of technology and magic of Ellethia, where the undead first surfaced. If this is correct, I can only recommend caution. I cannot say if the white wanderer is friend or foe. I know my preference.

Irrespective of this: onwards, upwards. To Vassarizhia. I leave this with you.

( ooc: threadjack away! You will get further details on the tower infiltration and our Halloween event mid-week for your plotting purposes. )

downswing

( 'lo, from the depths of the Mouse House, post-Unwinding: )

If... this were no dream. The child of the rains, bearing a vulpine mask. 'Hyang-Won' and his pale protector.

He is remembered? He did not appear as the other manifestations.

Though we have retrieves ourselves, we cannot abandon a child to nightmares.

( Guilt is strong among exorcists. )

sansdoute

( We interrupt your regularly scheduled sinister updates for a casual transmission viewable by all. A chirpy, scantily clad mademoiselle takes stage introducing, one at a time, portraits or visual footage of various dragons as she names them. )

Laaaaaaaaadiiiiiiies and gentlemen! Wait no more, wonder less, time to meet this year’s fiery dragon contenders who’ll fall head and smoulder for each other, in the latest, scaled-up season of…

DRAGON BACHELOR

DARIUS

He’s… moderately tall. Not particularly exercised. His rider… gave up after the third day of mounting. His nestmates say, ‘Bro, we all know you’re drooling, not flaming,’ and ‘His mother has to come pick up his scales every week.’ He never woke up in time for the war. He’s looking for a girl who can char his meat, keep his nest tidy, has no male dragon friends and has reeeeaaaallllll thick wing curves. He has zero aspirations, but he knows the 10,000 actual gold pieces he invested to buy an invisible magical coin token will one day rake in big.

He is Darius, and he is our… Dragon Bachelor. And he needs your help to find a bride. Although, like. Any girl would be lucky to have a nice guy like him.

( the blushing brides )

Now, viewers, you know the ropes: they say you can't be lucky in both love and money, but Dragon Bachelor is here to prove common wisdom wrong. Every fine gentleman and lovely lady can put their house-paid 10,000-coin chip forward on their pick for handsome Darius's bride. What a catch!

If the stars blink your way, and Darius chooses your guess... you earn ten times the reward. Don't forget! You can always take advantage of the cheeky virgin sacrifice option and put down the names of other prospective brides. Cast your vote, and let the best dragon gall win!

( ooc: Rules of engagement:

— every character can bet 10,000, free of charge. The house covers the first token.
— Vote here on your dragon lady of choice — remember, persuade your colleagues to vote the same way, and you increase your odds of winning! Just pitch the virtues of your preferred dragon lady.
— Alternatively, suggest a character as a 'virgin sacrifice' (virginity optional) to appease mighty Darius, and vote to get them into the next round. You can also assume a well-meaning NPC put your character's name down. Why not?
— This is open to everyone, irrespective of whether they were assigned to Eidris or Minaras. It has 0% plot bearing. Make it rain.
— You can treat this as a regular network post and threadjack to your hearts' content.

)

chosenbylight

[Anduin appears on the deck of the Pariah, toying with the blue amulet the priests have given him as he frowns in thought.]

As I am certain you are aware by now, both of our ships appear to be in the midst of a haunting.

The priests the captain has brought along with him have given their guidance as to how we might deal with these ghosts. They have also provided some of us with these.

[Anduin holds up his amulet.]

The amulets allow us to see and communicate with the spirits. I have used it to do so, and the conversation we had is why I come to you now.

The spirit I spoke to had much to say, but most notably — he claimed that there is something within the Pariah which is drawing them here. Something similar to whatever it is that is keeping them below, within the sea.

Earlier in our voyage, I had another conversation with a member of Captain Vane's group by the name of Mr Briggs. He had mentioned at the time that his position with the crew is transportation logistics of cargo, and that he is now on loan to Captain Quicksilver in that capacity. I did not think much of it at the time, but now...

[Anduin's expression is tight and drawn.]

Now I cannot help but wonder what it is that we are traveling with. And therefore I must ask of you —

Has anyone heard more about what it is we are carrying? In light of the news I have shared, what else have we learned of our voyage from members of the crew?

At the very least we may yet come to understand the dangers we are facing, here.

((ooc: dated to during the priest's plot; for the purposes of sharing any current plot information, feel free to threadjack away!!))

reparo

[She switches on the video function of her device knowingly this time, as she climbs the stairs to a relatively quiet deck. It's daylight, and the moment she steps foot outside, she flinches; not that she believes in divination, but those fucking fortune fish were right.]

Ugh. Sun. [She squints and shields her eyes with one hand.]

Hello - I hear there are people who've newly joined our journey due east. I'd say welcome, but the circumstances of us meeting for the first time will never be better. Take it from experience. [The way she scrunches her nose here has little to do with the sun glinting in her eyes and more with the experience of circumstances.]

Anyway. My name's Hermione Granger, I come from a world where the planet I inhabit is called Earth, and the country I come from is called England. [A pause.] I am also a witch. It's not a thing we broadcast in my world, what with the rules about secrecy and not wanting non-magical users to know witches exist, but I figure when in Rome...

[ANYWAY 2.0] Tell me about yourselves. [She goes to turn the video off in wait, but it still catches the last mutter:] Bloody hell, I need a hat.

[ooc; NOTE ON TIMING: backdate this to before the plot rolls start, please.]

aprescoup

( Fortune favours the bold, or those who have never crossed paths with the witch Karsa. She has been biding her time aboard the Queen Zanyra, manning the new recruits — and appears in good health, but for how half of her face sometimes catches the light strangely, nearly silvered. A flicker of oddity, and it's gone.

She addresses the group in whispers now, from an ill-lit quarter — days before the ships enter the Crossing. )

Hasten. Wash the silt and stale water from your ears. You fools. What are you doing? Sleeping, when they tell you to sleep? Rubbing their decks? A little polish? Is that what you are for? On your knees, and saying 'please'? And 'thank you'?

( Tch. But she seems too rushed to scold:) ...in any case, you are alive. That is surprising. But good. Now, let us keep it so. They have not told you much. They never tell you much. You are for the Crossing — old stories say it is... where things that should not be find their brothers. Things that lived and died. Things that died before they ever breathed. Things that should not be born. It is a turbulence. On merchant routes, they avoid this sea by a distance of several days of sailing.

( A creak, as if steps. She stops, searches each way, before trusting enough to continue: ) Why do they take this path? Luck does not love them? Women do not love them? No one would cry for them? I do not cry for them. I spit on them. But we can't spit from the grave. They believe, these captains, and the stupid animals and bundles of bones that man their ships, they believe they can survive.

I do not know why. But we must learn, if we are to be protected. Ask carefully: they do not like questions. Quicksilver, he is mad. Not in the way of men's madness, which is natural to them. They are fools of the blood. This is the different. He is mad of the mind. And the other one, the Rope... he seems mad of the heart.

But we must know what they know, else they might be fools, but we are even more foolish. Go. Be swift and careful.

( ooc: threadjack away, and feel free to share any information your character's unearthed about the voyage here, or in your own posts o/ )

downswing

( Dark and damp and Lan Wangji's pallor strained under moonlight. Behind him, flickers of broad, long temple columns — and the smoke smears of... ghosts, gathered. He seems short of breath, the silvered sheen of his sword half drawn from her scabbard, a spate of parchment papers littering the walls: active talismans. )

They have crowded their halls of the dead, to excess.

Here, the key withholds itself. Who hunts the other locations?

( And a pause, hesitant — whether to find his words or, absently, slap another talisman on the spirit that looms with a gaping maw behind him. ) Ke-Waihu stands safe?

( ooc: forwarded dated to the group's incursions in Ke-Waicai. Feel free to run into him in person, if you're also chasing the haunted temple key! )

reparo

[-- a scramble of images: sky, trees, rooftops. And noise: flapping of wings, birds cawing, and in the distance, for those who recognise her voice, Hermione Granger yelling-]

Give that back! I don't want to hurt y - ow, you little - Accio communicator.

[Whatever projects image with the communication talismans/crystals/what-have-you goes decidedly zoooom as it gets yanked, bird holding it in its beak and all, back into Hermione's outstretched hand. She wrestles it out of the beak, and sends the mad bird flying with a shielding spell, on camera.

Then finally, harried and disheveled, her face appears in the video in full glory: the scratches at the edge of her face, and neck, and the mad look. It melts into concern, when she notices the device is transmitting.]

Oh - balls. [A sigh.] There's something wrong with the birds. They've been attacking all morning - and no, these aren't mine. I've seen farmers try to chase them from the crops, so everyone please be aware.

[ooc; LET'S GO PLOT, LET'S GO.]

aprescoup

( Throughout the commotion, thick, gravelly voice that seems to be stirring from the depths of inebriation: )

...ehhhhh? Y'all... mongreeeelllllls, rise'n'shine, ah? You woke up? Yeahhhh... been having the good swill, have you? Tried it? Old man Cheomsan gonna sort you out. You tell'im, tell'im Taksui sent you, ah? You, yours... your cat, your children... your old ma... you drink on the house. Ke-hahaa... old man better be happy we left'em teeth, yeah? And a house! We! Hok. Shinn. ( And again, with emphasis: ) Hoooooookkkkk. Shinnnnn. Thassme. Thassmy uncle. That's all of us. We're kings'ere, yah?

( Another moment, while he's waking up; the sound of a swig, drunk. ) Yeah... old man merchant said to look after you, because he knooooooows. Knows you want something done, yeah? You talk to us. You talk to me. We get it done. So I'm lookin' after you, little bros and sisters... got some of you squealing pigs in the village, didn't I? You're welcome. Next time, drink the house brew on your own. Stop fussing like a maid, first time your skirt's dragged up. You gonna like it.

Couple o'... suggestions. What we call it? Friendly advice, ah? Don't walk long in our forests at night. Spooky shit going on. Said... we! We! The Hok-shinn. We told'em others, better to cut every tree down, til the woods get back in order. 'Noooo, they're sacred.' Fuck's sake.

...nnnnnd two. Don't meddle with the fetters. You thirstin' for a bad woman? I know some hags. Don't go for them who'll rip your... maybe you like that, huh? Know a man, if you do. Make you some coin? All he's asking is, you cry when he's wanting you to.

( Sharper: ) But I'm hearin' you're more for other things. Big bad swords? Guns? Huh? Huh, you big and strong? Keh... you so big and so mighty, some of the pieces of shit got somethin' you can waste your time on. Always runnin'mouths with nonsense... now they're saying... they're saying: that thing they see in the barns and wells and whatever... the bitch's head with the serpent body. They say she's eaten children. Two babes. A toddler. Unhinged her mouth right up and gobble-gobble-gobble! Hahahhaha... you hear that shit? Can't make it up.

My honoured fucking father's putting up a reward. Gotta shut up the idiots somehow. Me, I'm thinkin'... what's the shrieking for? Two of the little squealers were girls! You be grateful they're dead, ah? But my father'll give you some good gold for'er head, if you catch it. Cause that's all she has!

...right. That's me. Taksui. Got a girl calling. Better things to... whatever. You need me, you get in touch.

( ooc: — if you can't justify your character drinking the elixir to gain their ancestral curse on their own, feel free to assume Taksui slipped it in their welcome feast meal.

— villagers are complaining of the same creature reported in the latest log: with the head of a beautiful woman, whose hair braids to form her snake-like body. 'She' slithers away once discovered.

— feel free to threadjack, make plans, find or protect the creature, etc. Ask any housekeeping questions here.

— Taksui will be answering sporadically. He is now available at the npc inbox. ~~God help.~~ )

pulvisetumbra

( Some might recognise the calm, glacial voice. Others might despise it. ) Good afternoon. For those whose acquaintance I have failed to make already: I am the Merchant.

It seems several of you have misunderstood your remit. You were sent to the ruins of Ellethia to grasp the stakes of our enterprise, and why your role in ensuring there is no repetition of this catastrophe is critical. You were assigned in hopes that next you are told those who willingly inflict the dead upon innocents deserve retaliation, you will heed your instruction.

Instead, you have opted to meddle. It is in your natures. I have come to accept it. But there are lines that should not be crossed — ones you have trampled with impunity.

( A pause, while he collects himself. ) Our associate Enam informs me that you have taken it upon yourselves to terminate the lives of the... sleeping tower dwellers. without cause, remit or invitation. Perhaps slaughter is commonplace in your homelands. I have clearly miscalculated your appetite for bloodshed.

No matter. You have killed good men and women. Ensure that you dispose of their bodies at sea, before the cycles of the land inevitably wake them. I trust, seeing as you had no qualms in ending their lives, you will be equal to the task of disposing them.

I expect our friend Zenobius will now have to seek out an alternative to his life's work. A pity.

( Silence, as if the Merchant might have neglected to end his communication. When he speaks, it's deeper, forcibly collected: ) Should that happen, seek out stored supplies, forage and maintain the wells. Your ship arrives within days. I bid you well on the next leg of your journey.

( ooc: in response to Moiraine, Eleven and Yennefer's decision to euthanise the Sleepers: on 11 February, characters may notice Zenobius is no where to be found. Characters can find him in a deep sleep akin to that of the Sleepers, at the bottom of one of the semi-dried wells previously inspected by Kaneki and John Connor.

Over 11-13 February, characters may notice the garden legumes and food supplies stop replenishing. They may have to leave the lighthouse to hunt for their sustenance. Water can still be procured from wells.

The voices and echoes that haunt the lighthouse become even more vocal, if not yet more violent.

The ship arrives to collect to group on 14 February. )

downswing

The dead divulged at sea's shore: bereft, they haunt night waters. Buried ashore, they would wake to death's work.

Rest rites elude them.

Some among you wield fire unending. Lend light. The rest may release candles, salt and incense at sea.

If we do nothing of righteousness here, let us achieve this. What of the other dead?

( ooc: won't someone think of Akira/Lily/Anduin's corpses???? Threadjack away, you've got this. )

soloritur

[ The image comes up to show Marcos huddled behind a boulder near the water's edge with two figures nearby. He looks tense and keeps his voice low as he gestures to the others that he started the feed. ]

Hey. This is Marcos. I have Lorna and Wrench here with me. We uh... found something. [ He moves the device to show a cave, and the cluster of mermaids going in it. ]

Apparently some of the mermaids are able to use a siren call to lure people out here. There's a cave where they're gathering at night, but it's guarded. Most of them are in pretty bad shape, but we think what's in there might have something to do with what's making them... insane.

[ No offense, mermaids, but they did already try to eat him once. ]

//

[ lorna comes up to marcos's side after he shows what they've found, glancing over at him and reaching for his hand out of frame. when she addresses the camera herself she seems relatively calm, but serious. ]

We've got some experience dealing with mind control, but not enough to combat it. [ or block it to a degree any of them are comfortable with before they proceed. ] So whatever techniques you've got would be appreciated.

//

[Wrench, who's been practically vibrating this entire time, all but explodes at this point, albeit quietly -- or as quietly as he knows how to be, anyway] Otherwise, looks like meat's back on the menu, boys! [the mask displays a quick, angry face, mostly for show, before jumping to a bright (^_^)] Or, you know, sushi.

[yeah, he's been sitting on that reference this entire time]

Seriously, though. [help them, Obi-Wan Kenobi]

ooc: Marcos/Lorna/Wrench (if that's not obvious) any combination may reply!

reparo

[While on the boat ride from hell, there's a point in the first night where Hermione decides what the hell, for morale.]

I have mint leaves for anyone who is sea-sick, so please reach out if you would like some. I can float them to your boat. Chewing on peppermint would've been better, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

[There is a pause on her end here, before she writes out the rest:]

For whoever is holding the candles lit, if you are having trouble staying awake or keeping calm, maybe we can exchange stories. Surely if we whisper into our pendants...

Oh, one more thing! Does anyone know how to change the display name on these bloody things?

aprescoup

( In a rare turn, a restless Macaluso and a pale but resolute Vannozza Spina appear to make a public front before the Piazza, in a speech broadcast across all communicators. Macaluso addresses the people first: )

Good people of Taravast. These are not the faces we hoped to show you today. We had intended to make our final pleads and prove our worthiness before you. But we do not step before a free and joyous Taravast. Today, on our way to the markets, we walked on corpses and ruins. I would like us all to observe a moment of silence for our suffering, our heroes, our fallen and our loved ones.

( Respect, awe or fear of the Spina guards see Macaluso’s plea obeyed. Vannozza continues: )

How beautiful you are, strong things. How stoic and determined. I admire you. One and all who have survived, despite the treachery of the moment. Despite those who have sold us. Despite the man who have failed their duties. Know this: my cousin speaks our truth. Today, we both ask every man, woman, child, cripple and magician of Taravast, the living, the dead and those transitioning to join hands and assist our efforts to rebuild. As you know, when my parents passed...

( Macaluso intercedes: ) When our parents passed, Vannozza.

( Vannozza laughs: ) Yes, but you’re not giving away your dowry. When my parents passed, they left behind a not insignificant fortune of 500,000 gold pieces, so that I might make my way in this world, as a gentlewoman. But you will not find me gentle. I hereby put this money towards healing houses, homes of fresh shelter and alms. It is not a loan, and it is not a donation. Taravast is my home. I do not loan to myself, and I do not donate to myself. The Lady Emilia has further graciously added her own fortunes. I ask everyone who has bound themselves to my name to pledge 20,000 pieces to the same cause and produce them within the month.

( Macaluso appears briefly ill at ease — surprised, but rushing to rest his hand on his cousin’s elbow to support her: ) ...of course. We will take this aid and couple it with new wisdom. The old ways of Taravast have led us here, my friends. The corruption, the underground transactions, the isolation. We cannot have this further. We must open our arms and our hearts to those who bring us new knowledge, new experiences, even to foreigners, who can -

( Vannozza once more, laughing: ) And what will you give them, Macaluso? If they did not come for love of you days ago when we were attacked, what will they come for now? Our magic? Our witches? Look around you! We have scraps, we have dogs. We are... no. We will not be Ellethia. We will have curfews. I declare it, in my grandfather’s name. Any man who roams the streets with undue cause past midnight faces prison. Anyone who homes or harvests the dead will be hanged. We will have reckonings. I will know why each of our sorcerers failed us, I will know why we have walls and the power to stop death and raise fire, but we were caught out like rats in the rain. I want an account of every man’s power and learning and identity. I want our sorcerers to remember they are foremost the servants of their people. And I want every nightmare creature and risen dead man burned.

( Macaluso opens his mouth to object, but Vannozza has already retreated, and the communication ends without the typical boisterous enthusiasm of the piazza. )

( OOC: neither Vannozza nor Macaluso will be responding. Threadjack away and plan your next moves ICly. Consider responses to this post private to the character network and unreadable by NPCs. Shortly after this communication, characters will notice:

a curfew is now in place, between midnight and 6am

Guards ask a tally of everyone’s abilities (feel free to lie) and seem generally apprehensive of and brusque with magic users

Openly declared necromancers will be treated coldly

Vannozza and Macaluso require their supporters to contribute towards rebuilding Taravast )

valeas

( Last Emilia di Carlo was seen, she rode a thestral into the dark of night, with flowers burning in her hair and fury blazing in her eyes. Tonight, she looks somber and composed, her resolve no less steely for it. She sits at her desk, hair half braided into a coronet and the other half down in loose waves.

She's dressed practically, unlike when they're conforming to the city's fashions. )

I've gathered some donations from the nobility.

( Influence with the gentry (and their connections) helps, as does rich guilt. Emilia still takes great issue with everyone else being left to fend for themselves during the siege, but she decided to channel that anger into something productive. People need resources, not the consequences of her temper.

She'll need remember to do so on behalf of Vannozza. The siege doesn't, unfortunately, put an end to why they're here. )

I invite anyone that would like to help with its distribution to join me. Furthermore —

( Her brow furrows at the sudden commotion outside. The desk is close enough to the balcony that anyone who's decided to listen in is privy, as well. Much like the chimney debacle, really, except these are no protesters. No, these are two gentlemen suitors. And they bring ... poetry?

( We ride at dawn. )

downswing

( Pictured: young master Lan, blood-drenched and saddled by five exceptionally rotund and angry chickens in a gondola that drifts merrily along one of the canals.

At his feet: a swarm of coins, a corset dress, and... pastries. Beside him, fettered and muffled, is a seemingly rabid undead, who sometimes remembers to kick at the rope-bound oar convulsively and row them onwards in the dusky horizon.

It appears master Lan has forgotten the art of blinking. Possibly, until he croaks out sound, that of speech: )

The witches. ( A pause, spanning a lifetime. He seems... to drift asleep? No. No, he's startling himself awake again: ) Answered. ( What did they say, Wangji, don't fall aslee — ) ...inquiry.

( ooc: just after the the warehouse incident, where ~~pocket~~ Lan ~~Zhan~~ Wangji's box was submerged in alcohol during transport. He has 'captured' one of the warehouse dead and... useless loot. Content warning: drunk Lan Wangji. )

aprescoup

( She has long suffered, her great sigh speaks, every fool that's walked this world. ) ...you took more dead. Why are you like this? You want friends? I buy you friends. Three for five coin pieces, at the market. You are ugly, maybe I pay seven. And you are fools! No one likes you. I pay nine.

Pah! What is your luck? What is my luck? These other clapping seals in their little frills, with their little cakes and their little cups, they are playing their little games. And they come to me with messages. I I have the look of a saint now, who delivers word. How fortunate Karsa is. How grateful.

Look here. Pay attention. ( She spits out the words: ) First come the beggars, the Bessis. What is their puny fire worth now? I breathe hotter each morning. They ask for their captives, to hide their shame. Imagine! You kill, and you kill, and you kill, and then you keep your dead 'allies' like vermin, and it is not good, when you are found out. Who could have thought?

( And softer: ) The others. The Attaryl, for whom speaks the red woman, Vannozza. They want their dead. For burial. Ha! As if she will not use them to say, looooooooooooook! Look what my cousin's good friends! Look. But the witches... these are their dead.

So, talk, choose, and — ( The transmission seems to flicker, her voice first feeble, then doubled, then she shrieks: ) No. No. You do not dare, you do not presume, you do not, you fur-clad pink pig, you do not dare —

( But Karsa falls silent. To a quiet backdrop, broken only by a rhythmic drip, speaks undead Lord Anurr of Sa-Hareth — who has not been seen since arriving in Sa-Hareth. He seems to borrow the voices of multiple men, women and children, never settling on the one: )

H elLo   Li TtlE   FrIenD S. HoW   Ha VE   YoU   Be EN?   GoOD?   Yo U   ArE   Go OD   peOPlE.

Go oD   ThIn Gs   SHOUl D   HaPpE N   T o   GoOd   Peop Le.   And   GoO D   EnDing S   to   Th Ose   Who   HAV e   SuF f e Red   LoN G.

N o?   Y E s.

And   Th E y   havE SuFFer Ed,   ThEse   AtTa ryL.   An D   N oW   ThEY WoU l D   Be   Use D   aGA in?

No.   So   Man Y   BuRNs. So   ManY   WA I Ls.   I heAR   ThE M   FroM   HerE.

GiVE   Them   To   ME.   Th E Y   Will   Be   O U R   BrothER s   In   SA-HARE Th.   Fr E e.

( As quickly as Anurr interrupted, his voice disappears. A long heartbeat's silence. By the time Karsa recovers command of her own transmission sorcery, she is quieter for it, rattled. )

You... that. That disgusting creature. That... well. Well, you heard him, didn't you? You heard him. Tell me what you wish done. You cannot have it all ways. Only one answer.

( ooc: the floor is yours, threadjack away, debate the fate of the six undead claimed in the Bessis tower disaster, plus the three previously weaponised by Wei Wuxian. Characters with 'ownership' of the dead get final say — please state it! All the undead will go to the petitioner with the highest number of votes. ~~Haltham~~ Anurr will not be answering any comments. )

lancifolium

As it's becoming more than obvious that there are many forces in play here in Taravast, and since there are a goodly number of us who have taken advantage of the resources available for research here in the city I wondered if we shouldn't get together and talk about everything that's happened and what we've learned.

I know some of us tried this back at the farm with some success, and I believe it's worth trying again.

If you'd like to come to have some tea and compare notes - maybe see if there's some overlap that might be helpful, there's a tavern on the far end of the artist district called The Ruby's Arms. The owner, Annunziata (Nunzio if you're on good terms) is quite deaf and not all there, and his establishment is very quiet. We'll be able to use his back room with little trouble and I'm prepared to charm the space to prevent what we say from being overheard.

I'll be there about an hour before dusk this evening.

bearshermark

This dragon greatly resembles Boreal Serpents I've encountered. There are a few differences, but they're otherwise quite similar- particularly in shape and elemental affinity.

Seeing as a number of us seem keen on returning it to the ocean as originally promised, I think we can agree it's in everyone's interest to calm it first before any further damage is done.

[A breath, then barreling through the rest with the grit of someone fully expecting an argument]

..So, I'm going to try and put it to sleep. I don't fully expect this to work, and I don't expect it to work swiftly, but all we need to do is calm its mind enough to work with. It's otherwise proven itself to be an intelligent creature.

But this will take time to manage. In the meantime, it has the body of a serpent: strong, scaled, and greatly flexible. Straying close isn't wise or likely terribly effective with ordinary weapons. Held at range and distracted would be ideal.

..As such however, this only has a chance to work with assistance.

aprescoup

( Two days after the banquet poisoning, don Macaluso himself sends his message to all newcomers. His voice comes trembled, uneasy, overcome with emotion. )

My friends. My new friends. It troubles me to speak to you so on this day, which may well have been the day of my matrimony.

I know what came of my welcome, of my banquet. I cannot speak of my remorse, that this should be how you are greeted in our fair city, our Taravast. You must know now, you must understand, surely, how great is our burden to proceed with fair, honoured and safe elections. To bring Taravast to the glory and trust of old. We were never these creatures. This is not our way.

But it cannot be that it soothes your hurting hearts to know so. I shall not play at games of court: the cure that needs to be procured for you who have been touched by the lily mist's toxins is not within my healers' reach, though they have tried. Wisdom hear them, they have tried.

It is of lesser comfort, but... should the worst prevail, my grandfather and I are both prepared to subsidise your resurrection, as required. We have a number of necromancers in the family's employ. Some... nearly reliable. We will require, of course, a pledge of fealty, a contract of service in exchange. We speak of fortunes that must go spent, and you are many. It pains me, how many you are. But if you wish this path walked, I offer here, the first step. Tell me your decision.

Many of you must wonder why I speak to all those who have entered the palace of late, and not only my own faction. I wish it understood: you could have faced death herself as well. Faced her very easily. And though some of my companions disagree, I do not hold this against Vannozza. This is not her way. We set about to do our work righteously. And it may be that, unknown to me, some of you are affected. I have even heard Lady Odile may have been involved, speaking of a foreign influence. I have been told before that foreigners wish only evil upon us all. I did not listen then. I hear now. Though you are not my people, you were my guests. If you were affected, please: allow me to reimburse your resurrection on the same terms.

If there is aught else I may be of help with, in the matter of this great sickness, or if you have any information that may assist us with hunting the root of a curse, advise me. I am, in all things, your humble servant.

( ooc: Macaluso and don Bonaccorso will be putting 150,000 coins/person towards necromantic resurrections — at the not negligible price of a contract of service, pledging a boon that the signatory cannot refuse once called, on pain of forever-death. The boon will very likely be used for plot-relevant purposes.

Characters can let Macaluso know here if they'd like to pursue this option, or talk freely amongst themselves about the poison / cure finding progress. )

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