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. |
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westwhere2021-05-10 08:56 pm
no subject
She suspects why it might be safest with her, but she's not sure how the Merchant would know that. But he seems to know far more than he should about everyone, so... Winnie purses her lips and then mirrors Five's pose, taking a deep breath and sighing softly. For whatever reason, it seems very important to Five that he knows these things about her.
There's nothing she can think of to exchange though. After a moment of silence she tilts her head, the smile gone from her face, her expression one of cool observance. "I'd like the answer to a few question. Simple ones, I promise, because I'm only curious." A pause for dramatic effect before she asks simply, "why do you want to know so badly? It bothers you, doesn't it, not knowing. Why can't you accept that I may be ordinary?"
no subject
His attention shifts back as soon as she speaks again. The questions she asks makes him lift his eyebrows, not expecting her to be curious about why he wants to know, of all things. Why wouldn't he?
"Because no sane person would be able to take this much in stride. Unless you're really desensitized to living corpses back in your time." That doesn't entirely explain his interest though. He gives her a long stare, scrutinizing her further. -- Might as well get it out on the table. For the sake of honesty.
"And because you remind me of someone. My mother was a robot."
no subject
The mention of his mother makes her pause too, expression going still and blank. The words aren't completely foreign to he, though she imagined robots to be more machine than human, but clearly he doesn't mean that. How interesting.
She supposes she should probably react in some way to the mention of mothers, but she's not entirely sure how to react herself. She purses her lips and takes a deep breath again, chancing a glance around before she sits up and leans forward. She levels Five with a carefully considering look before she speaks.
"You must understand, Five, that what I am could get not only myself killed--or worse--but would surely get my father and friends executed as well. Simply by being born, I have put everyone at risk by virtue of what I am. I know this world might be different from where we all are from originally, but I don't know how different. Please speak of this to no one, for I may very well actually feel something if I am forced to consider killing you for doing so."
Winnie is silent for a beat, letting it hang in the air. There's no smile on her face, just a cold certainty. She would do it and likely not bat an eyelash, the only thing would be the possibility of feeling something about it. Winnie couldn't even say for certain what that feeling might be.
That said, she brings her hands together on the table and sits up, expression still unwavering even if she keeps her voice low. "Where I'm from, several dozen years before my birth, the existence of the soul was discovered. Don't ask me how, I truly don't know. But it had been a debate for centuries I'm sure-- what made one human? Did humans have souls or not? The discovery that souls existed changed everything. Souls had power. Taking a soul didn't kill a person, but to take a soul from one born with it naturally turned them to something as good as dead. And some people..."
Winnie trails off here, pausing, staring at the table and the names etched on it. There's an unfamiliar fluttering in her chest and she tilts her head as if trying to listen to something before the feeling disappears once more. She sighs a little before continuing, "sometimes people are born with a certain...peculiarity. Some are naturally born without them. These people... aren't considered human. They don't think quite right. And... They can't feel things the way normal humans do." She lifts her gaze at that, chin slightly lifted as if in silent presentation.
"They don't have the ability to empathize with others. They can't cry when they are sad or laugh when they are happy or fall in love, because those emotions simply do not exist for them, not truly. If undiscovered at birth, their only hope is to play pretend, and to play it very well."
no subject
He never anticipated being rewarded for his persistence. Perhaps she realized that he won't let up until she finally gives in, and she was likely right. About a few things. Things that don't make sense bother him, more than he'll admit, and she was one of the first here who was subject of that particular obsession. And so he listens, very, very carefully.
Despite the warning, the outright threat on his life that changes the tone of conversation, they've finally come to a space where he's more comfortable. His expression remains neutral, even as his opinion of her begins to shift and he regards her in a different light.
His crossed arms shift midway through, and he rests his elbows on the table in front of him while he anticipates the information that she's willing to kill for. And he quickly sees why. His assumption was wrong, but not far off, and he believes her as easily as she believed him. Coming from her time, it would probably be akin to being declared a witch and being burned at the stake. He doesn't quite understand the intricacies, but the very concept... makes for a compelling story.
"They." It's obvious who she means. He looks down, taking it in, trying to fit that new revelation to his own basic understanding of humans and life and death. It likely won't help his obsessions, but it does shift them slightly. When he looks up again, he's halfway deep in thought. There's so much more he wants to know, he's not sure where to begin. "You were born without a soul, but you were able to hide it. Were you the only one in your family?"
no subject
"Only because I was their first and only child. My mother died giving birth to me and my father couldn't bear to part with me. It was that sentimentality that saved me. I'm not entirely sure what he told the doctors or what he bribed them with or any of those details, but it saved me. Everyone was told I was terribly sickly and couldn't be seen in public. It was quite a shock to them when I seemed to miraculously recover in time for a debut and to go for my season at court."
Winnie thinks about it for a moment. "My father believed if he tried hard enough and loved enough, I could learn to be.... not soulless, I suppose. It didn't quite work, but it didn't quite fail either. I can feel some things. Sort of." She pauses again to think and then places her hands out on the table, cupping them as if holding something in them.
"Like trying to hold water. Once in a while, I can feel something, but, like water, it eventually begins to trickle out and disappear all together again." She spreads her hands as if to demonstrate and sits up again. "I can feel curious though. That's the first emotion I learned to feel and cultivate, and I feel it quite easily. From there it was only a matter of time before I wanted to learn more about the word outside and the only way to do it was to study expressions and the causes of emotions as best I could. Until I was able to convince my father to let me out in the world."
Here she smiles, her face lighting up with youth and vigor, all bright and cheerful. "I'm quite good at it! I dare say I'm even a little proud of it." Winnie laughs then and it sounds completely natural, though she settles again as she sighs.
"...If the authorities found out..." She trails off, shaking her head. "My kind aren't killed, typically. At least not where I'm from; I'm not sure how it might be in other parts of the world. But you know how they say all the swans in England belong to the Queen? Well, so do my kind. You could get a lot of money to set yourself for the rest of your life almost if you sold your soulless baby to the crown."
While she's talking a lot she knows Five will be able to keep up, or will shamelessly question her more, so she doesn't bother waiting long between information spills before moving on. "You see, with the discovery of souls came another discovery... They could be removed. And when someone's soul is taken in by someone who already owns one, that transplanted soul is absorbed. It grants all sorts of boons to the consumer-- illness vanished, lifespan increased, vitality restored... And the ones who can remove those souls... are us." There she pauses, shrugging lightly.
So of course the rich and powerful wanted them under their control.
no subject
Five won't discredit her acting, though he doesn't quite smile back when she does. That had been the first thing to impress him when they met. It was also the first to alert him that she was hiding something, but he hardly would have guessed what it was. Someone must have though. He was correct that all of them have a reason they were brought here.
That something becomes a little clearer when she finally explains why someone without a soul could be valuable. Apparently that's a well known fact among some circles. Of course Five is very familiar with spirits and possession, in large thanks to his brother. But this seems to be a much different technique. Taking a soul from a living person and... feeding it to someone else? The fuck.
He realizes late that she stopped talking, and he takes a while longer after that to form a reply.
"Did you-?" He can't even finish the question, and that in itself feels strange coming from him. Like if she'd admitted to murder it would be less of a sticking point for him, because that's a perfectly normal thing to do. He'd ask her how it works specifically if he wasn't unsure about getting a demonstration. "Once it's absorbed the person who had it removed just... lives on as a husk?"
Like the undead that continue to circle around them. It's not a huge leap to make.
no subject
"Not like those things. They're just... Bodies. They can be fed and watered. If you stand them up they can likely stand for a period of time. Sit up. But they don't really move on their own. They don't speak. It's like a lobotomy--but one they can recover from if their original soul is returned to them in time."
There's a pause and she shakes her head. "I've removed the souls of others, practicing. I haven't killed anyone that way, though. I've taken souls and tried to find their original bodies and it didn't work." She shakes her head, sighing a little.
"I'm not sure if those things really have souls or not--I haven't gotten close enough to really try yet. They don't seem to really notice me too much--Suppose they think I'm close enough to one of them."
no subject
This is so far beyond his scope of knowledge that it's almost embarrassing. What's the difference between a soul and a spirit? Is there one? Apparently souls can't possess someone the way a spirit can with people who commune with the dead, and the process is reversible when it's not fully digested? Or does that matter? It annoys him that he doesn't know the right terms here.
"Taken souls from who? They aren't destroyed once they're transplanted in someone else?" That seems like a good thing to know. If the entire process can be undone, it's... still pretty unnerving.
"And why not try against one of them? It seems like it would be an effective weapon."
no subject
She sighs a little at that question though, looking away from a moment. "Those that can't fight back, of course. The rich have the money and the resources to make themselves untouchable. It started with criminals and those about to die anyhow. The upper class prey on them and use the souls to better their health or extend their lives, but eventually you run out. So, the poor were next."
Winnie's quiet a moment and sits back in her seat. "Sometimes, at the bigger parties, after dinner those that truly wished to impressed would either have their own pets--people like me-- to give souls out to the guests. Like party favors. I'd take the soul and then try to find its original body. I rarely was successful. The bodies were usually cleared out long before I could get them."
As for his question about the undead-- Winnie raises her hand and wiggles her fingers at him. "I have to touch their mouths, or at least quite close. I'm not exactly keen to get within biting range of them anytime soon."
no subject
Sometimes even he can be judgmental, and he finds himself weighing passing around souls as party favors with some of the unspeakable things he's done to all manner of people. On paper the former manages to sound more sinister. To go beyond killing the body, but to destroy their soul. Assuming he understands how that works at all.
Five doesn't remember when he covered his mouth with his hand as he'd leaned forward, but he becomes aware of it when she mentions how she extracts them from their bodies, and he lowers it accordingly. It's a fair point. They probably would bite.
After a moment of thought, he nods.
"Is it a long process?" Is it better if it takes a while, if it could be halted midway? That she has to touch them means she couldn't take out several simultaneously, so it might be of limited use in that regard. "I haven't tried subduing one, but I suppose if you ever want to give it a try."
It's the kind of experiment his father would be suggesting. Probably locked in some room with a stopwatch in hand. That thought prompts him to keep going before she answers.
"I don't blame you if you'd rather stay hidden. Most of them are more trusting than I am, so they might never notice." Because they're all so... young. They don't even consider that any of their own could be a threat. As for Winnie, he has to wonder. "Do you even want to go back to all that, or do you like it here?"
no subject
The offer makes her blink slowly as she tilts her head and regards Five with an almost reptilian indifference. But there's a very genuine curiosity there and she nods once, expression going thoughtful. "It'd be interesting to see. I don't mind, if we can keep it bit more hush-hush. Just because you aren't clamoring to burn me at the stake doesn't mean everyone else will be. People tend to get touchy when souls are involved."
But right. Questions! She shakes her head. "It shouldn't take long though. It's just sort of... pluck it away. Like a flower."
And ah...the big question. "It doesn't matter if I like it here or not, staying isn't an option. I can enjoy--for a given value of enjoy, I suppose--the freedom I have here for as long as it lasts. I'll take advantage to learn all I can, but..." Winnie trails off and then shakes her head. "I can't stay. I have too much I want to accomplish back home. Promises I've made."
Resting her hands on the table, Winnie looks down at her fingers, spreading them and pressing her palms against the wood. The pads of her fingertips rub against the grain, feeling the lines and bumps and imperfections. "It's not fair. The things that are happening to those like me and those without the power to fight back... I can't understand emotions too much, but I understand the idea of fairness and balance. I like to try to live as closely by it as possible. It's logical then, if the world is out of balance, to equalize it."
no subject
Which makes it interesting that he's the one she decided to tell. For whatever reason, that makes him more curious. About her, about how her abilities work. ('Pluck it away like a flower.') With his powers, it wouldn't be terribly hard to arrange that test without anyone knowing they were gone. He'll have to weigh the benefits, calculate the risks, so he says nothing more on the subject.
His eyes narrow slightly when she talks about learning all she can while she's here, but he doesn't raise the question of what interests her. It might be enough for her just to be able to hide in a crowd.
"In that case, good luck at staging your revolt." It sounds like a noble cause, righting injustice for her people. He knows what he would do in that situation, but not everyone's mind goes to the same dark places as his. It's just as well that she hasn't asked about the names scrawled on the table, though when he briefly glances at it, he realizes he never got around to including hers.
If he had something to drink, he'd be downing it right now. As it is, he just folds his arms and tries to reach a level of acceptance of everything he's learned since sitting down.
"Am I the only one who knows? Aside from the Merchant." Who seems to know enough about her to think the mirror is safe with her. In hindsight, he probably should have been more careful about what he touched in that room.
no subject
But she nods, acceptance and thanks for the well-wishes. "You are." She replies evenly, resting her folded arms on the table and leaning in towards him with a faint smile.
"I like you, Five." There's a beat, a fluttering little pause as she tilts her head with a soft, 'hmm.' "Well. For all that might mean. But it's true. The secrets I share with you aren't things you'll share on a whim, not unless it would somehow benefit you and yours' to do so, am I right?"
She smiles more. "There's some comfort to be taken in that. It wouldn't be logical or pragmatic to do so, and I don't believe I've done anything enough to threaten you into doing anything against me out of spite. I'd like to hope you like me a little too. And as I said, I like balance. If you were to do something against me in retaliation for something I did, it would only be fair, so long as my crime was proportionate enough to the trouble I might amass from having my secrets spilled.
But as I've yet to do anything that would give you cause to do such a thing, I feel quite safe."
no subject
When she starts to explain why she told him, he shifts in his chair and breaks eye contact once or twice. Of course she would like him for the reasons people usually do. He knows he comes across as calculating and determined to do what it takes to survive, rather than someone with a strict moral code they live by. -- Also notable, she says nothing about his age. Maybe she can tell what he left unsaid.
She might not know how ruthless he can be, but she's not far off in her assessment. Unless given a reason, he has no desire to jeopardize their relationship by exposing her to people he doesn't trust to begin with. So really, he is... safe. Like she says. It shouldn't be a surprise that he's the one she'd gravitate towards.
"Fair enough." His own feelings about her are something he's still sorting out. He wasn't lying when he said she felt familiar to him, and now that he knows the reason, he can see why.
"I can't imagine you'd do anything to give yourself away." Telling someone, whoever it is, was a risk she took for a reason. As obvious as that might be, he still feels the need to point it out. "You also didn't have to come clean. I expect you were hoping to have someone on your side, should you need them."
Some kind of protection, as it stands. He's assuming she didn't just unload on him to lessen her burden. Another person and he might have believed that, but not her.