westwhere | a meeting of the minds (open)

WHO: All y'all (OPEN)
WHEN: The evening following this message to the network
WHERE: The back room of The Ruby's Arms
WHAT: The gang gets together to pool their knowledge and try to figure out where to go from here.
WARNINGS: None yet, will edit as needed.

note: [ So taking a tip from how this post was structured, there's a top level marked 'open discussion' which you can treat like a network with that idea that things are being said in a round table setting - because group threads after a certain size are ungainly. Branch out, threadjack, have discourse, etc.

There's also an 'ooc info' top level where you can drop off any bits of information your character would share with the class (please try to keep it bullet-pointed) again with the group discussion environment in mind. In the spirit of trying to make a semi-consistent study group for the local nerds happen feel free to also list a few things your character knows about (local history, magic, crime) and would be happy to talk about, or maybe even teach someone else about.

Below this, post some top levels, mingle, nerd out, plot the city's burning, etc. Feel free to PM me or holler at me on discord if you have any questions! ]

basic prompt:

The Ruby's Arms was on the very edge of the artist's district, a cozy hole in the wall that plays host primarily to a handful of elderly locals, as it's just outdated enough to keep the younger set away. The elderly gentleman behind the bar, Annunziata, is a cheerful but deaf sort, who'll respond to almost anything not half-shouted at him with a cheerful nod and jovial wave of his hand.

Once being waved towards a door left ajar at one side of the room, characters will head down into a private room with a cheerful fire and a long table with enough stools to accommodate everyone. Lily, who is very excited to take notes, is easily spotted beside a big pot of tea with a cup in progress already steaming away, flanking her on the other side is a tidy pile of pencils and a few notebooks, all duplicated from her private reserve.

Despite their messy circumstances, she looks cheerful - like someone that is always ready to start jotting everything down and eager to have a reason to do so.

"I told him we were a flower appreciation society, if anyone asks you're just mad for magnolias."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Armies are armies. Them being alive or dead is mostly irrelevant, save for knowing the method to stop them."

So, no, he doesn't find the undead armies particularly exciting. If anything, they've annoying because they should not logically exist. Ask anyone who was on the caravan to Taravast: Moran was so annoyed with the very existence of the ghosts that he pretty much ignored them entirely, to their distress.

"And people are people everywhere. That doesn't change all that much, no matter what people believe."

She does not disagree there. It just makes her lean, vaguely, towards the side of bitter laughter, as thinking of armies makes her think of war and thinking of war makes her think of home.

"I suppose you could say that I just finished fighting in a war before coming here to fight another, by force," she mutters, privately, pressed to be bluntly honest with a perfect stranger once again. "So clearly people are people everywhere, and apparently I'm the same kind of people anywhere."

"Have some more tea, young miss."

It will help. Tea always does.

"I haven't seen a good succession war in a while. I have my own ideas about who should win it, but then, they're on their own to keep the city running. If all goes well, we'll be long gone before this city meets its doom, but who knows? We've ended up it in the thick of things before."

Tea helps with everything, usually. She has some more tea, trying to not linger over the fact that it's not expected of them to save this city from itself, and fix it all single-handedly.

On the other hand, she can't help but think of the people native to here, who will be affected.

Ethics are hard.

"Thank you - and I'm sorry, that was an outburst."

"Not to worry. I've seen worse."

He is fanning himself almost lazily, the fan more for show right now than anything else.

"You've only just arrives with our latest batch, didn't you? For some reason, we keep waking up in dungeons of sorts."

She pulls a face. "Ah, yes. A cage for me, taken out to move and wash quickly ever so often, then exposed to the undead's ability to infiltrate thoughts..." A little sniff, as she steels her shoulders.

Hermione is fine. "It wasn't the peak of luxury, but alas."

"It was a cage in salt mines, for me. They didn't even let us out for bathing, but I believe we were not expected to actually survive all that long. And the next people were kept prisoner on a ship."

So yes, they seem to always appear in captivity of some kind.

"If I am to believe the Merchant, the reason we survived and are currently being... extracted, in a manner of speaking, is mostly because they tried to kill the people who arrived before us, and it didn't end well. So I would count ourselves lucky."

There is a small pause, after the revelation about the cage in salt mines, before what comes out is: "Some mountain goats like to climb on rocks and lick the salt off them." Just blurted out, before her common sense catches up with her and she startles, and blushes.

"Sorry, I don't know why I thought that was relevant - it's terrible to wake up as a prisoner, let alone here. I'm sorry you had that experience too."

She shakes her head. "Ignore the goat fact."

He gives a small laugh at that.

"We did, in fact, meet a goat shortly thereafter. But don't worry, it's certainly not a competition. And knowledge is always good to have. You never know where it will serve."

She nods at that, and takes a sip of her tea, letting her mind wander towards how she may be useful to this group. To these people. To herself.

"When you call for these meetings, how will you communicate? Is there risk to be intercepted?" she asks Moran, already her mind picking a loose thread and following it.

"I think those new crystals have a possibility for more privacy, unlike the first few we used to have. But one should always assume we are being listened to."

Call him paranoid, but Moran grew up in an imperial court. he always assumed he is being watched and/or listened to.

"But short of inviting everyone face to face, it will complicated to make sure of it."

She is practically vibrating, because she knows how to do this. "I can help with this. I have - there are spells to modify something, like say for example a coin. We can all carry it in our pockets. I can set it so they go warm when there is a summon. But they would not be communication crystals. The only message they allow is time and place."

"That sounds very useful... but how do those of us without your power manage to use them to transmit, and not just receive?"

Because, well, if anyone is to be able to summon the group at any time, it needs to work both ways, and from what he has seen of their magic with miss Lily, it seems to work in very specific ways.

And the bright look in her eyes gets suffocated by that little bit of semantics.

"Oh - that is a good question. I'll have to think of this."

Sorry, Hermione, that's what you get when you talk to a fellow bookworm, thinking of all possible outcomes.

"If we can get it to work for everyone it would be extremely useful, and not just for this."

She doesn't disagree - but this makes her curious. Not just for this, he says, and she gives him an interested look. "Please, elaborate?"

"Having a way to gather our whole group in case of an emergency that doesn't rely on devices given to us by the people here would be appreciable. Just in case."

Years at an imperial court have taught Moran to always have back ups for your back ups, and a way to do things that no one else knows about. He trusts the Merchant as long as the money keeps flowing, and that's it.

a meeting of the minds (open)

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