eastbound | Entries tagged with npc

Good day. This is the Merchant. I am pleased to say your days of sunning in Unkharil's melting brilliance are nearly done. I have made arrangements for you to graciously and gratefully depart with the next convoy of shepherds. ( Good luck with the transport scents. )

You will travel to Ephes, a citadel of some education, a wealth of decadence and an accelerated sponsorship of its armies. These militia are now renown as some of the most cunning, ruthless and brilliant forces in the world.

Last I traded in Ephes, the local administration were content with choice opiates, wine and... a degree of revelry I shall keep under wraps for the sake of the more delicate or immature ears among us. They were at the time... at best, conniving politicians but military dilettantes. Now, I understand they foster ambitions of conquest and empire.

( The click of his tongue. Perhaps he has heard that before. ) No matter their... numerous personal difficulties, they possess a functioning beacon. That is, as ever, our chief objective.

Wrathion brings to attention that Matthias has been sighted in the nearby region of Zakhara. For the education of our latest additions, I shall only mention that this gentleman has repeatedly appeared to patron or create several of the undead lieges encountered in our travels. We do not yet know his intentions.

...but I am told the latest force of the dead who seeks the support of Ephes openly challenges him.

As ever, you will receive passport papers and my personal best attempt at resources on arrival at Ephes. Safe travels, one and all.

jatharin

( Ah, but did you miss King Deimar's jovial face? He appears well acquainted with a cup of wine, sunning as he speaks.)

Greetings! Your king speaks. Deimar. And how are you? You all look so much more resplendent than I remember you — which is to say, no longer drenched in my people's blood.

Master Strange, I'll beg you to refrain from ruining these ancestral halls. Yelena, I could yet do with a guard. ( More cutting: ) As for those of you who... witnessed my brother's... heroic sacrifice, as ever, I appreciate your discretion in this time of my people's mourning.

( But perky, once more: ) Now! As it happens, mistress Hermione returned from her jungle pilgrimage, intoxicated but bearing the wishes of a... runaway divine serpent. Sceptics might question the wisdom of heeding a hallucinating girl and an invisible snake, but she has retrieved some of the venom my uncles require for my coronation, so we object no further.

In exchange for his venom, Kharil-asuk has demanded the purity of the citadel's new residents. Delightful! It seems that, after bearing with child traffickers and nearby human sacrifices for centuries, the snake god has lost his appetite for blood. A troubling thing, since I find myself short-supplied of people who have not touched sword and bloodshed after years of siege. To cut things short: the new holy watering stations posted at Unkharil's entrances are here to stay. Bask in the brilliance of your new innocence. Do get more water! And don't unsheathe a sword where a snake can see you.

I remain grateful for any other anointment venom you procure from Kharil-asuk. He of questionable existence, but indubitable control of my fate.

( ooc: from this point onward, characters may find members of the Unkharil city watch randomly dumping buckets of holy water from the golden stream on them, near the citadel's entrance points. Bathe well and thank Hermione! )

jatharin

( It's all gunshot, arrows, a flurry of projectiles and the passing downcast shadow of a creeping, large flying creature — then the scowling, scratched face of Watch Tower Master Kerasstone — ...before his pendant drops down, and you're treated to footage of rushed feet kicking the device back and forth between tower floor stones. At long last, Kerasstone's slammed to the ground, landing close enough to his pendant, grinning bloodily. )

WHAT GIVES THERE? GOOD MORNING, LADS! YOU SEE, IT'S BEEN RAININ'DOOOOOWWWWN! ALL ABOARD, EH?

( Excuse him, more... skirmish, with something like a harpy. Back to howling at the pendant. )

IT'S STARTIN' TO SMELL ALL ROT IN THE AIR. OR PIG. CAN'T TEEEEEEEEEEEEELL. BUT MEANS, USUALLY, THE LIKES OF HIM IN THE WOODS, HE'S PLANNING HIS NONSENSE! WITH THE CLAAAAAWWWWIIIIIIING. GOT TO KEEP YER FINE SELVES READIED! AND WATCHFUL! AND JOLLY, HAVE A DRINK, EH?

( ...he, for one, is somehow materialising a battered iron flask from behind his shield. ) NOW, I'M TELLING YOU: YOU FEEL A CAAAAAALLLLIIIIIING? TO THE WOOOOOODS? ALL A SUDDEN? AND IT AIN'T NATURE? DON'T BE SHY, WE ALL DO IT! OR YOU'RE A MITE MORE ANGRY, BUT IN THAT MIGHTY FINE WAY THAT LEAVES BEHIND A WEE BODY? AND YER UNCLE GRASSHIM HAS TO LOOK AT YOU ALL AWKWARD, GOING, LAD, AIN'T GOT NO WHERE TO BURY IT? YOUR AUNTIE WANTED TO RAISE'EM PETUNIAS IN THAT YARD???

( Look at this smiling face. Surely he's joking. )

YOU GET THAT ITCH, YOU KNOCK YOURSELVES OUT WITH THE CAST IRON PAN! OR A BOOK! AIN'T NO USE FOR THEM ELSEWISE! NOT THEM KITCHEN ONES, WE NEED'EM, THOSE... THE ONES WITH BIG WORDS! YOU CAN CHAIN UP TOO, I SUPPOSE, JUST NOT TO A WOODEN POST! SOME'S BROKEN FROM IT BEFORE! MAKE IT STONE AND BIIIIII —

( ...regrettably, an incoming catapult briefly brings him down to ground, and Deputy Watch Master Vataz, equally battered, sighs along the rest of the instruction: )

Yes. Keep watch of yourselves, knock yourselves out, drink, and... whatever he said about the frying pan. Don't be alarmed. Rathakku only Claws those who've been touched by death, when he despairs of his lack of progress. He can't hold it up for long. If he's starting now — it'll only be days. But he will be ruthless, and he will try to turn us to seize the Chamber of Seals. Hold the lines, and you will be victorious. We will all overcome this. We are better than him, stronger, braver, more lasting. We will persevere. Do not let yourselves be Claw —

( Wait, Kerasstone is sitting up again, as a blast rocks the tower. Scrambling to catch the pendant, he points it at... an explosion by the Castle's entranceways. )

HELL'S BELLS, WHASSAT BY THE LOWER GATES? SOMEONE LET ONE RIP??

( ooc: dated to the very late hours of 6 February / the start of 7 February, as Rathakku begins his Clawing of Feb. 7-10. On a voluntary basis, necromancers, characters who once died or who are very sensitive to life/death energies can be conscripted into Rathakku's army for this duration.

A Clawed Stephen Strange kicked off the mayhem with an explosion in the minor merchants' entryway.

Threadjack away in the comments! Kerasstone and Vataz can both answer — specify in your comment header if you prefer one over the other! )

jatharin

( The first transmissions is recorded footage, clearly captured by a pendant held by a shaking hand. Before it, legions of heterogenous, misshaped demons part for the gilded palanquin of Duke Rathakku, his long tendril legs seeping off his cushions.

Beneath his litter, death hounds feast on the fresh remains of a man carrying a peace stindard.

Rathakku appears untroubled, unhurried, indifferent: )

Tell your new king... he will have the peace of the old. And we, we will give it to him. If you can reach him.

( Only more seconds capturing footage of fumbling feet and gracel, the pendant carrier stumbles back, starting to run —

Before the transmission switches to the lightly amused face of Alem's king Deimar, whistling: )

...friendly sort, isn't he? That was four months ago. He's softened since. I'd say the colder weather agrees with him. It's good for you new recruits to see that. To see him. It builds character. ( A pause, then helpfully: ) ...spoils appetites, too! Means less dinner for you, more supplies for the morning. We've all won here.

( But the joy seeps from him. ) I know what you have come for. The beacon. I accept you. It's honest trade, we need the hands. Hells, fond welcome. And to those of you serving as envoys, we'll raise a cup to you first. I should hope there's meat on your bones!

Now, a few... guidelines! As it were. What are you? Madmen, criminals, thieves, mercenaries? I don't care to know. Under my roof, I'll have none of that quarrel. ( Steely: ) No squabble, no torture, no rape. We're in tight quarters, blood runs hot. But you'll somehow prevail over any instincts. No... innocent stabbing. There's enough of that in the Wards of late.

I understand some of you are joining the watch towers. I'll come see you. It's ugly work, and you won't thank me. But I thank you. If that bitch Irenia flies by, remember: she's an ugly, slow whore, and you can take a sharp stick's end to her throat. ( Silence, then breezily: ) I don't mind if you do that our merchant friends, either. Just make sure you've learned where they've stored their grains first. ( Light coughing. ) Don't let Haiva hear that. We're to be friends with one and all! Even when they skin us for gold.

As it stands, the day's news: we prepare to evacuate new convoys of our weakest civilians every five days. Unfortunately, Rathakku is... either remarkably intuitive or well informed. He seems to find our escape corridors in the mountain and blockade them. So! We start anew, with fresh escape routes. Do help. And if you can keep our vulnerable on their feet and not trip up the paladins who are working in the Gut's Bind, even better.

By the way, we cut any hands laid unkindly on healers. We can likely spare you more than them.

And the punishment for snitching to uncle Thyvault where the last of the good wine sits is worse than that. I'll deliver that one personally.

Now, good to have you! Die well.

( ooc: welcome to Alem & threadjack liberally c: )

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. )

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 )

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. )

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. )

aprescoup

( A wonderfully chipper woman appears, enjoying her hot chocolate and small cakes. You may remember her as Lady Rigarda, who assigned everyone Taravast identities and quarters. )

Good! Afternoon. Well, I should think we are now all quite, quite settled. Quite settled. You have done good work with that fish-face girl, Odile, ah? She is grateful, sent coin, sent... praise. Fish-face girl, what do you know? You know nothing. Now, I know many of you, you are... how to say... you are... exotic. You are creative. You are wonderful, you are exciting. You are colourful!

Of course, we appreciate it in Taravast. We are artists here, we have the souls of poets, the hands of painters, but the reason, if needs must? We are scientists! One and all. And my friend, your friend, everyone's friend, he told me, look, look, look, Rigarda, they are special people who are coming, and so you have come. And I see you. And you are special. And special is dangerous. And you are even more special for the little help I gave you, with your... what do we call them? Your past. Don't we all have a past we would enjoy to shake off? Why, let me tell your, don Sandro of the goldsmiths' guild, if he could unsaddle the sins of every one of his trysts, when he was young, and without the gout, o-hooo...

( This calls for a sip of her cup. ) Now, a few words of counsel, yes? In Taravast, you wear your mask. It is... how to say... ( Apparently, with disdain: ) Of the people to walk the street and have your face always bare. And it will help you... you must not be seen together, if you are not working together. Who keeps company with their enemies? Everyone. But, of course, not with a smile.

For the parties, the masquerades do not worry about invitations: many are private functions, but... you come in. You give a name, any name, someone will say, yes, yes, she is with me, he is with me — we are generous people. We enjoy guests. With the districts, take care: the artists will rip! Rip every last coin from your hands, I told the countess Strella, when she took her third lover, and he was hardly twenty springs, that's a lifetime, younger, and he was... a painter. And I said to her, Beauty, you cannot trust a man who always needs a gallery of unshrouded women to be inspired. What will inspire him about you? Your wrinkles? Your white hairs? No, her coin purse.

( Her voice briefly darkens: ) The healers, they are all crooks, but we pay them. And the witches, necromancers... I do not know why we tolerate them, we are too good, we are too generous. Cockroaches under our feet.

( And back, breezily, to business: )

To those I have sent to don Macaluso: remember, he is a... a sensitive soul, he does not like to be contradicted, to be challenged... he does not thrive in conflict. Be good to him. Like a new bride. Why does a man who is a bride look for a bride himself? I do not know. But he is... he was a precious child, and if you treat him with respect, and you do not spit in his face, he asks no more.

Donna Vannozza is... how to say... particular. She is demanding. Why else would she have no husband, ah? She wants people who are... good, who are efficient, who do not get between her feet like little dogs. With her, do not let her see you loiter, she will dislike that, then it will be storm, then it will be rain...

The Conclave are preparing for their little contest, they will not trouble you, they are waiting to be amused soon. And Bonaccorso, my good friend, ooooh, how time has not forgiven us. If Bonaccorso could be with us a little longer, we would not have this matter to deal with, ah? He is a good man. A strong, sturdy man. Bonaccorso, Bonaccorso... ooooh, how the years pass us by. Now, I believe you have all you require. Wait for your instructions and... no troubles, yes? Yes. You are special.

( ooc: As at least three performances to help Odile's cause have been played out, please feel free to assume that objective has been met and Macaluso has paid her special mind! Threadjack away in threads. )

aprescoup

Good day, good day. My friends, the friends of my friend, my travellers. We have journeyed together days and a nights, days! And nights.

And though many would say, Mazyar, how do you steal! Steal, like babes from the mother's teat, how do you take a convoy, dozens of men and women, beautiful, beautiful women, and the men are strapping, and the goats are good! They give us milk. And the horses are pleasing. And how do you thieve all this great offering, Mazyar, and you carry it on your feeble back, all through the customs, past the officers, past the paper-men, past the checks, past the dead! How do you do all this, Mazyar, how great is your wisdom, you, who are industrious like a god and cunning like a fox? Mazyar! Mazyar! You are a hero of stories, a thief of a thousand and one nights!

( He finally... remembers to breathe. ) But do not applaud me! Friends. Friends. I only do my duty. With greatness and ability and skill, but I only do my humble, humble duty. I take you to Taravast. But you must help me, yes? In this small thing, small, small thing, you will not notice. Just... a few guidelines, as we cross the Stairs of Sighs. For all our safety, yes? Small... small things. I ask so little! You will not notice.

A few rules — no, we are friends. A few... encouragements.

The first: you may have noticed, the... company. Of Lord Arha, who joins us in his... chivalry to escort us. Very kind! Very wonderful. Very... but you know already. Do not speak it, or else your tongue ties and your words fail a day and a night. And you upset him. There is talk... it is good, never make Lord Arha upset. Why? He is a prince, why upset princes. Royal blood, ah? Their tempers.

The second: do not make noise or sudden movement, if you can help it. There are snakes, and snakes here are vicious. And there are other creatures from the sky, and I know! I know. 'Mazyar, you! You cannot be afraid!' And I am not... but we have fowl, we have animals, and they steal. Disgusting things, they are. Careful with their claws and their beaks and their dark flesh-blood. It pools, and sometimes it burns the touch. In fact... if you are without work, and you want some coin... and I have it! I am a generous man.

Collect the tar from infected pools we pass by, in our great water barrels. We take it with us, and the schools of Taravast pay well after. The same for snakes, for exotics. The venom sells well. And if you capture a harpy... o-hoooo. My friends, gold as you cannot imagine. Not to mention, the many treasures they say lie buried in lost temple grounds.

The third ru — encouragement: mind the road down the old canyon. It is stone, yes? Only stone. But stone crumbles, the cliff-side erodes, you slip. And the walls... do not travel by them alone. Dozens of men disappeared inside the walls, never to be seen, and they say! They say. It is only a pathway to the realm of Death herself!

The fourth: our other companions. Some are from Sa-Hareth. Some... you do not ask. We are private people. I have a reputation, 'Mazyar the Humble,' 'Mazyar the Discreet.' We are not inconvenient. Some of them who left Sa-Hareth, besides... did it because Anurr was — an unfortunate development. And who helped depose their little friend, Unhalad? Aaaaaaahhhhhhh. Shhh, better we do not talk about politics, see?

The fifth: ...whoever shared the feeding before? The one that turned stomachs? You do not cook again. I! I, of course, being a man of great strength suffered nothing. But others... there were complaints. Even Lord Arha... as I said. Noble temperaments.

The sixth: the Lady Hatisse. I speak her name once, and that will be all. I do not want talk of witches in my caravan. No politics, no witches.

It is good to have you, all of you. And we will make such memories together. Please, do not thank me. I am humbled to have saved you.

( ooc: threadjack away! Feel free to take up any of the small quests Mazyar has mentioned: capturing snakes, harpies, or collecting tar from the various ponds infected with dark water. You can drop off any questions or handle OOC planning amongst yourselves here. As for temple treasure raiding... )

aprescoup

( Did you miss this shrieking voice as much as it missed you? ) You took dead. Of course you took dead. Why are you so... do you not have friends? You want friends this badly? No one loves you? Mother does not love you? Father does not love you? You had to find dead who love you?

( She stops. Breathes. Reconsiders: ) There is no time to waste. There never was. In the city, they say none of Unhalad’s people returned. You are half safe. Unhalad won’t know of you, at least until, those things you brought back... become as he means them to be. Speak to them before that. Find out what turned them. ( Quieter: ) They were good men once. At least, less fools than you.

But Anurr knows of you. He must. After all, you — ...you never did ask, did you? Well, go around and ask! Why do the people run from your little farm in the frozen prairie? You think, they do not like big, sturdy land, with a house on it? I heard it was Haltham who put you up here, and now he hides from me. Ha! Good. Not every open house is for the taking. And maybe ask yourselves, why do you have a body in your water, eh? You think it’s good, to swim with the dead? That’s how they raise you, where you are from? Find out who it is, at least you know his name, before you get naked with him, no?

And ask your little forest friend, why are they back? They had good life in their woods. No one bothered them. Did I bother them? No. Did you? Well, you bother everyone. But not them particularly, no?

( Huffing, puffing, easing. ) Actually... some of you, maybe you are friends now. You drank the brew, ah? What they gave you, Anurr’s little sons? How smart and brave they are, now he is back. But before? Months ago, no one spoke of Anurr. No one spoke against Unhalad. Nooooooooo, they bowed our heads then, Yes, sir, no, sir, not my son, sir, do what you want, but spare my family.

If you drank that thing... do not do it again. He owned you for a few hours. But next time, he owns you for days. For weeks. For months. Until he doesn’t let go. But you’ve already done the foolishness, maybe those idiots trust you enough to say what Anurr wants. He can’t keep the citadel closed with the storms forever.

The rest of you, focus on better things. On coin. You need coin. You always need coin.

( ooc: check out the IC results of the latest vote here, along with quest sign-ups! Feel free to talk among each other/threadjack, though Karsa will only answer very sparingly at this time. )

aprescoup

( She is heat and storm and hissing anger: ) You fools. And me, fool, listening to the master, helping! ‘Who could have known, Karsa, who could have known?’ I could have known, you could have known, any woman with sense could have known! Men? Men know nothing. You steal from a merchant, what does he do, eh? What does he do?

( A pause, as if she nearly expects an answer — before continuing, impatiently: )

He makes more coin. Do you know whose gold you took? Whose gems you took? Who made a large deposit at La Rea just when you all broke in? Do you know? Do you know who? Torsten. Congraaaatuuulaaaaations. The high merchant. The Torsten who won the auctions, the Torsten who inked a grand salt supply contract he needs that money to pay for. The Torsten who is bringing the great-bellied best, that ship Imperious in a few days. To make up for it.

( But she’s quieting, at least. ) And on it, he brings something powerful. We hear… the master hears. A commission. Because when merchants lose money, pah! They turn into smugglers. They say Unhalad’s brothers hired Torsten to bring in... help for him. Everyone heard about the bodies on the pillars two weeks ago. Unhalad’s own people picked out and killed, no, they can’t have that. No one… no one in the east sent help to Sa-Hareth when the dead took us over, but the dead, eh? The dead help each other. Funny, no? The world. And funny, you. What are you doing? Wasting time, with tales since grandmother was too young to even open her legs. ‘Arne the Red,’ who cares? How can a man survive three days and three nights in the tundra cold? He doesn’t. But you waste time on that, instead of —

( Bitterness and bile and she pieces herself together again. )

There is one matter of gladness. Unhalad’s allies sent him... some sustenance, as well as his weapon. More like you. Hopefully better than you, ah? Not fools? A handful of captives. Every man and woman and child deserves freedom. We will cut them loose. And tell Haltham, if you see him, there is work beyond sniffing the salt.

( Determined, then: ) Now. My people, we infiltrate. And we brave the instrument. But we are few. Eight? And... maybe exercise will do you well, ah? Keeps you from other foul business? Help free your fellows from the Imperious. We go together to the ship, but we each do our part. And we succeed.

I have more of the quartz for speaking, when you free them. Ten pieces? I will send them. Like I sent you quartz to... visit La Rea. And you made gain. So now I ask my cut: some 7,000 coins would provide us enough supply to make a few men friends, to procure some sailor garb… while, alternatively, 13,000 pieces would get us... a more substantial distraction. Who is coming? And how much gold can you give?

( ooc: This is a precursor to the ship rescue test drive & game event that our resident Sith Lord player proposed. Full event details will go up on 27 April! )

pulvisetumbra

( Moaning, laughter, lewd innuendo — the fixtures of the House of Dew's channels. Until, a steeled voice cuts way: )

Tamaiu, if you please. Impress on your ladies the virtue of silence for the next hour.

( All too suddenly, betraying how often the mistress of the house listens in, the cacophony of sound dispels. He continues: )

Good afternoon. You’ve made rather a mess of things, haven’t you?

I made my first fortune in Sa-Hareth. Inevitably, through sales of salt. Now, this was before, when death was still a reliable constant, and trade margin weren’t unhelpfully eroded by the competition’s ability to deploy dead contingents that require no rest, no feeding, and minimal attendance while they operate the production line. I assure you, immortality is infertile ground for business.

( A moment, for amateurs to appreciate this economic downturn. )

At this time, I volunteer no name. You do not require it. Allocate me one as you please. I am a merchant, by trade. I am accustomed to a degree of discretion. But I have no guarantee that you would offer me the same courtesy in the event of your capture, and the ambitions of this enterprise frankly surpass you. It is of utmost importance that I survive.

It is of secondary relevance that you do the same. But my collaborators and I have allocated a not insubstantial volume of coin, sweat, blood and personal sacrifice to progress your escape and survival. The hope, the gain, and the only purpose of this operation is to remove you from Akhuras and direct you to pastures new. Any alternative allows for Unhalad, his siblings and their masters to utilise you in a war that has devastated our world.

( Another pause, measured. He is accustomed to the protocols of rhetoric. )

To be clear. You are not so naïve to assume our first efforts didn’t study the merits of your murder. We tested this on a batch. Regrettably, our enemies proved sufficiently apt to resurrect their captives and use them after.

We will therefore proceed with extraction. Some of the standing eastern portals still offer the possibility of transfer to other worlds. Although… most have not been tested in generations, and we may need to deepen our voyage east, if and when the beacons cannot accommodate us. The safety of portal transportation to your persons is candidly immaterial to us and remains your concern.

( Be that as it may. Another moment's hesitance: )

My part in this endeavour is to secure information on the portals and their location, along with facilitating transit, on occasion. You will contribute with coin, with labour, with discipline. Begin by assisting Haltham and Karsa as much as possible.

Now. If you attracted Unhalad’s attention, it is not unfair to assume you were all previously situated in a position of power. You are used to being heard, perhaps also heeded. Some of you may have commanded every room you stepped in.

Except for this one. I am master here. You are merchandise. I have no interest in hearing objections of stupidity, vulgarity or sentiment. Any other questions, proposals or comments may be submitted in an orderly manner.

( And perfectly civil once more: ) Tamaiu, if you please again. My thanks and regards to your ladies.

aprescoup

( Audio: translated through the House of Dew quartz network. A man’s voice, fairly coarse, hesitant. )

...llo? Hello there? Right. Sorry. This is a fancy —

( Fumbling, as he hunts his words and the device settings. Try again: )

Greetings. This is Haltham. I met you. Some of you. At the jailhouse. I was the one who told you...? You remember? Tall? Green eyes? You remember. Come on. Most of you were, ahhh... a little... little rougher for your wear, but you remember. Sweated blood to get you out of… and Karsa, Up the mines? Well. Doesn’t matter now. I’ve got an hour. If you didn’t know me then, you’ll learn me now.

( And softer: ) I wish I could see you. See all of you. I’m told… Tamaiu sends me word every few days. Tells me you’re all right. Handful, but... what’s that about some of you starting the old trade? True, that? Well. Well, well. Just wish I could see you. First ones we’ve gotten out, and I can’t even see — ( Laughter, bittersweet. )

...you don’t care. Look, you’ll leave Sa-Hareth soon. The old man worked long for it. He promised. And I know you must have questions, and I’ll tell you right, I do too. I’m doing my bit, but he doesn’t let on much. Think he’s afraid, he says too much to one of us, we get captured, the entire work’s at stake. And maybe he’s right. Who’s to say, eh? Who’s to say. For now, you and I, we focus on our duties. Yours: get coin. We just need a bit, and — no, I won’t be lying, not me, it’s not a little. About 100,000 pieces. Give or take, what thirty good men make at the port each month. And it won’t all go to you, either, got some pockets to fill, if we want you out without... trouble. And we do. We all do.

We’ve got options: we take you out with the old spice caravan when it comes by the next full moonrise, or we find you a smuggling ship. Either way, won’t be cozy, but you’ll live. You’re the living sort.

( He seems to catch his wits back about himself, just as the channel is briefly disrupted by the half-purred, half-moaned communication of a courtesan wooing a patron into a booking. Haltham waits until she’s done completely: )

...ladies here, they’re something else, aren’t they? If I had that kind of coin, I wouldn’t say no, myself. Sorry. Sorry, we’ve got children with us. And look after the lil’uns, will you? The pink and the furred one. The girls? They’ve got a... people here, you get all sorts. Them’s good, and then there’s them with appetites. ( A pause, pregnant. Long. )

I’ve got some tips, in any case. Some... guidelines. Give it another sennight, the fat trade starts, and every big man east comes in with his ship, and they bring anything. Everything. So much gold. And then there’re the auctions, and they waste, fellows, friends, they’re pissing that money, then, they’ll buy and sell anything. Sell them rags and tell them it’s riches, and they’ll believe you. Anyway. Anyway, there’s salt to sell, if you want. Some... other things, I’m sure you’ve got your plenty. And I’m bringing them, by the way. Your old things? We rescued some. Has to be in turns, with the House’s laundry and spice and food parcels, and we bury them deep, but. Just cast yer eye, it’ll be there. All of it. If it’s yours, it’s not mine, and I’m no thief. None of us... we don’t want anything from you.

( His voice drops to an octave, a murmur. ) Look. Advice? If you take it? Keep your head low. Let the old man sort you. Don’t go anywhere alone. Trust no one, or as few as you can. Unhalad’s people, you can tell them apart, they’re everywhere, and they’re wild. And they go wilder, the colder it gets, has them running. Look... kill them. If you can, do it quick. But don’t try it with the red sleeved’uns, though. Stay out of their way. And if you can’t... the old queen had our pillars put in for the parades, and they’re are good iron. Strong. Could berth your boat against’em. Honest. Run. Run, head first, and meet the iron where your head’s soft on the sides. Do yourself with your own hands, it’s better than if red sleeves get you. You trust me.

( OOC: post open, threadjack amongst yourselves at will. Haltham will input here and there.

Character inventory items that weren’t with them when they escaped will be brought in over three House of Dew deliveries spanning the next few days. The first shipment will come with laundry, the second will comprise small items hidden beside apothecary bottles, and the third will come with the establishment’s food carts. Up to you which belongings your character gets back first, and whether they’re in pristine, lightly chipped or damaged conditions. )

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