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. )

( 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! )