exit, stage e a s t

( 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. )

( 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. )