READY TO ROLL OUT
That awkward moment when even a brothel won’t have you.Characters will end their sojourn at the House of Dew early morning, helmed by Haltham (and his murderous goat, chomping on his prosthetic wooden hand for splinter nutrients). Courtesans and attendants will send the group away with parting gifts: a few sacs of grains, handfuls of spice, a small barrel of brew, several of water, thin blankets and four fat chickens.
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The decrepit farm stands an hour’s walk east of Sa-Hareth, bordering the forest at the foot of the mountain.
...and it has not wanted for company. Monstrously overgrown wolves prowl the region, with some of the pack settled inside the farm. The wolves are halfway between dead and living, instantly aggressive, sharper, faster, smarter and blue-eyed beyond natural expectation. The wolves are drawn to heat and fire-bearers. They can be slain, or pushed back into the forest. If the brawl drags on, the wolves may receive reinforcements.
Distantly, characters can observe silhouettes of pale-eyed, humanoid creatures in the forest, covered in animal skins. They seem to speak to the wolves, though it is unclear if they soothe or set them to attack. |
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Once an elaborate woodsmen’s station, the 'farm' is a generous, sprawling outpost built, home to now-barren inner garden.
The farm spreads across kitchens, bathing rooms, hefty storage barns, a handful of isolated rest halls and broader communal areas. A study room has been crammed with accountancy tomes, papers and other books, many torn alongside glass shards on the floor. A shakily furnished barn was coarsely repurposed for banquets.
Set up, inspect, repurpose. There’s enough dust and mildew to go around, and several walls and roof stretches will need reinforcements.
“Ah,” characters say innocently, “Surely the cold will keep away vermin —” You have rats. Large, uncuddly, distinctly violent, prone to swarming once the sun’s downed. Enjoy that first night. Haltham will provide some base construction supplies over a few deliveries, along with a personal gift: a herding dog, to watch over two fluffy sheep.
Flex those green thumbs: many moons ago, enchantments were set in place to warm the garden to a tolerable level that will allow the expedited harvest of an arctic patch. These spells will need to be activated and periodically recharged every few days by characters donating recoverable amounts of magic or physical stamina, by touching a nearby rune. But, hey: potatoes, turnips, kale, mmmmmmmmm, a balanced diet. |
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“Never open your doors at night,” Haltham says on parting. Lend him an ear — and, once the moon rises, hear the forest whispers. Some voices will beg rescue from the cold, others will tease and taunt, a few will imitate enemies or kin. Some will even disrupt dreams.
The voices will seek to lure characters out of their shelter. Those who heed will find themselves compelled to walk into the forest, entranced and ignorant of the cold that slowly envelops them. They will be vulnerable to the elements, tundra predators and the woodland creatures, growing increasingly feral.
Those who survive the night in the forest will wake to find themselves floating in a chilled, but strangely not-yet frozen lake in the morning. They can have faint recollections, as if they themselves lived any of the following events: a friend taking a dark path, the loss of a dear skill, years in a coffin, a close friend parted, a beloved reunion, a lost brother, a tender romance and rare bliss in poverty.
At the bottom of the lake, they may spot the still corpse of an undead that feels too heavy for anyone to lift. His arm has a tattooed red sleeve.
During the day, characters who visit the forest will find it eerily silent, with some trees showing signs of scratches and lingering rope. The lake can still be found, but entering it during daytime will not allow characters to experience foreign memories. |
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Karsa will reconfigure everyone’s quartz pieces to translate outside of the House of Dew and communicate in a private channel. Still nothing like individual inboxes at this time!
Up to player discretion if Karsa had the time and humour to change their usernames, or stranded them to their House of Dew identities a little longer.
Characters will also be able to access a secondary local fishermen’s network and listen in on their schedules, local gossip and daily weather updates.
Woodsmen, tradesmen and miners will be surprised to see anyone inhabiting the farm, with some men pulling away, calling the place cursed. |
B
"An odd place to take your leisure, out in this temperature," Archeval notes dryly, sounding a little bit amused somehow. He too is dressed for the weather, in his battle robes with a cloak thrown over his shoulders.
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For now the tall man looked at the unfamiliar person and figured this had to be one of the Luminary's friends since he was poking the other with a boot. That was fine since he'd seen some of their companions back home prod him with something similar, and sometimes worse. So all he would do is by a glance let the other know he'd been seen, but that was as far as their interaction would of in Hendrik's eyes. He was here to observe and learn and not interfere unless harm came the boy's way.
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"Yes, but there's life growing here. I like it."
Catching sight of Hendrik shifting in his peripheral, he cleared his throat and made to stand, dusting himself off as he did so.
"Ah, Archeval, this is Hendrik. Hendrik, Archeval. He's one of the allies I mentioned. I don't think I would have made it out of the tundra in our escape from the mines if not for him."
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"Well. I don't believe you mentioned this friend of yours was the looming type, Eleven. If he was unlucky I do believe a low-flying spacecraft might graze the top of his head."
With those dryly drawled words he thrust out one black-gloved hand to offer Hendrik a shake, though the look on his face was still a little dubious, his gaze a little suspicious. One didn't last long in his line of work being strongly inclined toward trust to begin with, and the stories he'd heard of Hendrik's deeds so far didn't exactly make him inclined to offer benefit of the doubt. Eleven might be convinced the man was now his loyal protector, but Eleven was also far too nice for his own damned good.
"I am Darth Imperius, Dark Lord of the Sith Empire. But Archeval is fine. Your young friend and I--" --just from the look of him Arche couldn't possibly be more than a handful of years older than El, but there the words were-- "--Met when we were both somewhat more...indisposed."
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He wasn't here to start a fight, he was just here to protect his charge. But he stood his ground and didn't move an inch. And then his eyes narrowed at hearing the word dark, and that was the one word that he heard above all else.
Back home he had known a man with very long blonde hair that had served a dark master. And he'd trusted that man with his life more than once in fact, as they were boyhood friends who had grown to men and became revered and trusted knights of the realm. But then that childhood friend Jasper turned away from their boyhood pact to protect the kingdom and gave himself over to the darkness.
Was this person in front of him somehow tied to darkness here? The knight studied the other and wondered if the darkness from back home had somehow made its' way here. Back home they'd defeated Mordegon and Hendrik had thought that concluded their business with anything of that nature.
Perhaps he'd been wrong.
And maybe that explained Eleven's odd behaviour since he'd arrived. For the moment however it was a puzzle his simple mind couldn't figure out. Jasper was always so much better at strategy, riddles and puzzles than he ever would be.
"I see." was all he said.
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He held his breath, heart in his throat and intent on Hendrik's reaction. He imagined everything from Hendrik attacking the man to dragging Eleven himself off to safety. But in the end, it was something akin to a terse dismissal. Clearly, they wouldn't be friends.
Still, he breathed quiet relief. That it wasn't more than that was a blessing, but for how Archeval's opinion might shift. At least there, he was... reasonably certain? he wouldn't attack Hendrik.
..Probably.
"..He's done nothing to harm me," Eleven argued further on the Sith Lord's behalf. "Even knowing we're opposites in- in spirit."
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"I should hope that would go without saying. You saved my hide more than once, I've done my best to return the favor. It's hardly my policy to go around wasting my good efforts at keeping people alive."
Settling his arms crossed over his chest again, he peered back up Hendrik's way with another raised brow.
"Your charge and I led the mission to get all of you off the ship together. You'd be surprised what dark and light can accomplish together when they work toward the same end," he said with a wry quirk of one brow. He didn't trust this man and he highly doubted this man was ever going to trust him, so might as well lay all those cards fully on the table.
"I don't believe I saw you then, but I suppose I was busy getting dragged around down in the hull. Do you happen to remember how you were brought here?"
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The knight continued his silence as the two conversed, and he remained watchful that nothing adverse happened. There was more of it even when he was addressed, hearing the words spoken about what darkness and light could accomplish together. Had fate not taken his boyhood friend he well understood what two people could accomplish. He and Jasper were quite the team, or rather had been.
And the only reason he hadn't done anything that the Luminary had feared was because that boy trusted this dark one. So that was the only reason he remained calm.]
"I do not recall how I ended up here but it is of no consequence now. All that matters is that the Luminary remains unharmed." The boy had done his part with destiny, but for some reason that destiny wasn't done with Eleven. And mayhaps he too had something yet to do still since he was here with his charge.
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"Sorry," Eleven offered Archeval a hapless shrug. "I hope it's not too off-putting."
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"I can work with anyone," he reminded the other young man, quirking one brow.
"As it is, I don't believe your friend and I have anything to be at odds about. As long as his intentions truly are all that he claims they are, of course." A challenging glance from the Dark Lord settled back on Hendrik again, just for a moment. Misplaced though his caution might have been, it seemed Archeval was determined to look after Eleven's interests against all comers.
"He wishes to keep you from harm, and I wish the same. Simple enough."
Arche glanced between the pair for a moment then with a curious look.
"'Luminary', though, hm? I take it that's you?"
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Knowing the other had saved his charge was the only reason the knight didn't lash out. "We will see to the matter regarding your intentions." And if the other made one false move Hendrik wouldn't hesitate to correct the error. But on the other hand as long as this man protected the Luminary as well, he was right in stating that there would be no quarrel between them personally.
However, the knight's gaze went to Eleven a bit puzzledly. Apparently he'd said nothing of who he was back home?
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"Ah... yes," he said after another moment, slowly taking wary eyes off his protector again. He was glad at least that the knight hadn't expounded too much in response. Archeval knew plenty enough as it was.
"..It's my title, anyway."
He fidgeted, wondering if perhaps Archeval might remember that he'd named his forged knife Lumis and how truly apt that name was now.
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"You have a title, hm. I suppose you mentioned you'd been chosen for great things and all that, but somehow I hadn't imagined it being quite so formal. Been hiding some sort of noble lineage from me, have you? Or perhaps you're more along the lines of a priest?"
He gave a little shrug.
"Not that I suppose it matters. None of our little group's titles and ranks mean a whit to anyone here, after all. If you prefer to leave all that behind for now--..." He spread his hands with an ambivalent look, apparently much more willing than Eleven's protector to simply ignore the whole matter. Perhaps it was simply because he'd known El for a much shorter time under far different circumstances from Hendrik, or perhaps he treated all fancy titles so lightly.
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And as he listened, it didn't sound as if the other knew what the title of Luminary meant. If he did, he was keeping that close to his chest or as it seemed, dismissing the matter altogether. And this was completely fine with the knight.
So he directed his words to the Luminary himself. "If I am no longer needed here, I will go scout around."
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He stopped to settle a surprised look on Hendrik, who of all things, was volunteering to leave him alone with Archeval.
"Uh, okay," he allowed, "Um, be careful of the wolves." Not that.. the wolves stood a chance against Hendrik, but Eleven could almost guarantee one of them would find him whenever he stepped out.
He turned back to Archeval. "But no, I'm not- well, that's-" Eleven scrubbed a hand through his hair. "..Technically, I guess, but the kingdom fell when I was an infant.."
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"Well, this has been an... enlightening meeting," he said with another wry glance upward toward the big man. "If you've need of safe passage through the city at any time, come find me -- for a friend of Eleven's I'll see what I can do. I am better at passing unnoticed than most, and I can extend that to those around me as well, at least somewhat. And I suppose if anything else comes to mind, feel free to ask."
He'd never been much of one for social niceties, and he certainly wasn't about to start now, so any 'nice meeting you's or 'see you later's went unspoken as he glanced between the knight and his...apparently noble charge.
"....hm, but so you actually-- You're serious." He took in Eleven's tone and the feel of him in the Force with a vaguely nonplussed blink, voice turning dry again. "I wasn't serious. We've a great deal more nobility amongst this little group than I would've expected, it seems. But yes, from what you've already said-- you were raised as a commoner...?"
Pulling his cloak a little further around himself, he crossed to find a place to sit nearby Eleven in the grass, content to just stop and relax for a moment. From all appearances, he seemed to be asking out of simple and earnest curiosity.
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Woops. But he spared one last reassuring smile and wave to his guardian as Hendrik turned to leave and hoped it was enough to assuage the worst of the man's fears as he reclaimed the same spot Archeval had found him in.
"I didn't find out until last year. And there's only ruins left of it now, so it only means something to a few people in Erdrea- and even less to anyone here, as you mentioned. It's not a title I feel I can claim, but... Hendrik might have told you at some point, so I'd rather you didn't think I was lying to you if he did. I know you- well, you don't like nobles, for some reason."
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"What do you mean? I don't l--... ......Ah. No, it's not like that. I don't like slavers," he corrected quietly, giving a little sigh as he glanced off to one side with a pursed lips and a faintly awkward look.
"...I've nothing against nobles in specific, though anyone with power and money who chooses to misuse it can take a walk out an airlock as far as I'm concerned. But having some title all of a sudden hardly makes you a different person, even if you did choose to claim it."
Another pause. He stared up into the cloudy white sky over the garden for a moment with a bland, unreadable look.
"I was born in the slave pens of a colony world, and now I am one of the rulers of our Empire," he went on, quietly.
"But 'Darth Imperius, the Dark Councilor' -- he is still Archeval, the Vakkari boy who grew up sewing uniforms. I've not become someone else just because I was given a fancy name. And I would never assume any different of you. A title is just a tool, like any other. Pick it up when it's useful, put it down when it's not. It does not define you."
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He'd been a slave- a slave that rose to great power. No doubt he'd worked tirelessly to achieve it, fighting to prove his worth every step of the way. It was rather the opposite for himself, born noble, though raised as a commoner, then thrust into fate's grand (failing) design.
"Hm.." The idea that a title didn't define a person. Certainly, the title of Prince meant little, and didn't make him one. But the title of Luminary affixed itself to the person Yggdrasil had marked for greatness. ..Admittedly, that didn't make him a hero by default.
"You earned your titles. That's probably the way it should be. It's amazing, what you've accomplished."
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Arche wrinkled his nose with a bit of a confused look at that, plainly not having expected this sort of response. Being praised for accomplishments wasn't exactly something he'd experienced much in his life, and it...itched a little. Particularly as he was fairly sure Eleven actually meant those painfully earnest words. At least the last time someone had told him he'd done a good job at something, it had been his old master and he'd known she was only saying it as a way to lower his guard when it came time to murder him. That sort of known quantity was much easier to deal with than uncharted territory like this.
"It's a little more complicated than that, but I guess I didn't... not put in work to get here," he frowned half to himself at last.
"But I wasn't trying to rule the Empire. It got dropped in my lap through exceedingly unhappy coincidence. Just because a Council seat was empty and mine was the closest rear end qualified to put into it--..." He gave a little sigh, scratching his head.
"I just mean to say -- I am still only me, just with quite a few more annoying responsibilities. So hopefully I understand. I wouldn't judge you for an accident of your birth, not when I already know your character well enough. And at any rate--" He offered the other a brief dry look now.
"From your various tales, it sounds to me like you've been doing your best to try to earn yours too."
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"I'm failing mine, pretty admirably. I'm not qualified at all." He glanced down at his lap where his fingers twined together. "..I think there was a plan, before Dundrasil fell, to teach me everything as I grew up, but even the Arborians thought I'd died that night. It wasn't until I'd come of age and went to visit Carnelian that anyone knew I existed."
He sighed, glancing up. "But.. all that matters right now is staying alive in this world. I'll keep praying, I'll try to become stronger and more wise. Then when we return to our own worlds, maybe I'll have an idea of how I can bring the light back to Erdrea."
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"......so then, let me see if I have the right of this," he murmured.
"You were brought up in a normal, unremarkable life. Only quite late you found out you had a power, a birthright that no other could fill. You hastily picked up what you could about the matter with no one to properly teach you, dodging those determined to kill you along the way. And then you found out you were the heir to a lost legacy snuffed out by enemies of your family line? Would that be an accurate way to put it?"
There was... something about the look on Arche's face now. Almost as though it couldn't decide whether to be deeply amused or somewhat unnerved.
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"Um, I don't think the forces of darkness were personal enemies of my birth family in particular- they destroyed at least two other kingdoms long before I was ever born - but otherwise.."
He took note of the odd look on Archeval's face, though couldn't be sure what to make of it. "..I'd guess that's a good summary of why I failed."
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"...The Force works in mysterious ways. Or perhaps your goddess, for all I know."
Apparently no explanation was forthcoming for that cryptic statement, but the expression on his usually dour face was oddly light, particularly considering that heavy confession of inadequacy El had just made. Slowly, Archeval gave a little shake of his head.
"Of course you haven't failed. You're just in the middle of finding the solution. The fight's not over until you're in the ground, and sometimes not even then."
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Eleven hummed and gave a noncommittal shrug. It was tempting, now that he'd admitted to failure, to list all the ways in which it was irreversible, but felt less steady just thinking about them. Instead, he took in a fortifying breath. He had to focus on what he could still do.
"Sometimes, not even then," he repeated with a nod. "I'm only alive through the efforts of others- including yours, now- so I can't waste it."
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