westwhere | out you go, shoo

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.

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.

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.

“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.

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He scoffed out a laugh, waving his hand. "No, no, not thrifty, inventive. We're not settling in anywhere, not even here, so who can afford to be as carefree as we like?"

The rest of what was in his rucksack comes out as simple piles: two more cloaks, a number of tied together books with messy pages, two wooden combs, and a jar of pickled vegetable of some kind. That he handled carefully, holding out to Eleven with a different kind of grin.

"This one's for you, Mina, Sizhui, and the rest of the youngest ones. Still growing, ah? Good for health!"

More like good for an addition to the millet acting still as staple, and a way of ensuring more varied diet for the youngest ones, of which there were a handful by now.

Eleven took the jar with a dubious look up at Wei Wuxian. Then he peered at the contents with a softly resigned sigh and carefully set it down.

"That's very thoughtful."

The cloaks and combs were good additions- though the latter he'd need to keep track of when they were set to start distributing the packs so that they went to people who actually needed them. He took a moment to sort the haul into piles: things that could be added as they were, items that needed work to be useful, and cloths to be washed.

Separately, the.. juice.

But he observed the lot with a satisfied nod. "This will go a long way. I think with a bit more cloth and some medicinal ointment, we'll be doing okay."

The delightfully pickled produce, give him the credit of a staple across empires: a winter food and a traveling circus of vitamins and minerals from the summer season far off now, where the cold creeps and lingers.

Not his young, going ill from lack of nutrients. All crops need something to grow, don't bodies, too?

He watches the sorting, only handing over some of what stays closest to him to help with the process, then comes up to his feet after, rubbing at his back. "Aah, yes, though what kinds of oinments are you thinking? Cloth is as cloth is, it depends on what you want it for and why."

"Cloaks and blankets, mostly," he answers easily. "Thick or layered cloths."

They can't know how much further East they will need to go for the weather to warm, or how long it will take them to get there.

"For ointments, I was thinking primarily to disinfect, but for burns and rashes too, if possible."

Eleven stands, then walks to a corner to dig through his own small collection, and returns to offer Wei Wuxian an armored helmet.

"I can't wear this anyway. I'd thought about melting it down, but you may as well sell it. ..And," he reaches beneath his coat, drawing out an odd, wing-looking thing. "This is a dragon scale. If we really need money and you can get a good price for it.."

"Layers," he says, agreeing. "Easier to work with should the weather turn warmer, take layers off, pile layers on."

Simple cloaks to layer under an outer one, extras of the local clothing, if people were willing to wear them. Lan Zhan was his own issue, and attached came Xiao Xingchen and Lan Sizhui, though he doubted they were quite as set in their ways as to be as sadly offended as Lan Zhan in wearing less than the usual, and less than their best.

When presented with the helmet, he accepts it, lifting an eyebrow further at the winged looking pendant? Is it a pendant. When the winged looking object is tugged out from under Eleven's coat. He reaches out, curling Eleven's fingers back around it lightly after looking down at it. "You have dragons on your world?" is what he decides to ask, his interest keen; sure, there's a mythology for them back home, and he'd made a dragon out of the shadowed form of resentful spirits and their energies, but it wasn't the same thing.

"Hold on to it for now. We've got journeying ahead of us, and this is only the start. There are some things we should hold onto, for as long as we can."

Unlike his dignity, which he let expire in his twenties, as you do.

A part of him is relieved, largely because if he hadn’t minded parting with the scale, he would have done so before. It isn't sentimental, but it grants him an edge of strength he'd prefer to keep. The ointments he's asking after however, aren't likely to come cheaply.

But, if he thinks it isn't necessary, then.. Eleven's fingers tighten over it, beneath Wei Wuxian's insistence.

"..Yes, there are dragons," he says, quietly puzzled. "I suppose they're rare if you don't travel off the road much, but there are plenty of them."

He follows the shift in conversation, blinking and then laughing with a shake of his head. "I've never seen such things, I wouldn't know that they're no possibly living in the world, too many strange things are, but I can't say I've seen one in body. What're they like?"

"Um," he says helpfully, not expecting Wei Wuxian's interest, but willing to indulge him- to talk about something less stressful than scarce coin and rudimentary supplies.

He tucks the scale away and gives the question a further moment's thought. "There are a couple of different kinds, but generally, they're a bit large and scaled. They usually have some sort of breath attack or use magic."

Spoken as one who's largely fought them rather than found a particular interest in them, the details are a bit dry. But a brief smile tugs at his lips.

"I've usually tried to avoid them."

"Breath attack?" He seems even more intrigued now, gesturing vaguely toward his mouth. "What's that, their breath's so bad people keel over sick?"

A grin and a light laugh as he's not seriously believing as much, though there are notes on such creatures who do have that trait in the various books he's read over the years.

"Mah, who wants to go out searching for troublesome creatures? Until they're a danger to the livelihoods of others, there are times facing them is better than looking away."

Eleven huffs a laugh, because he isn't terribly far off.

"I mean they breathe fire, more often than not. But there are also those that breathe toxins that can immobilize a person for a time." Those are the most troublesome sorts of monsters, in his opinion.

He shrugs. "But I don't often see them near towns, and usually more trouble than they're worth to combat if we can avoid it."

out you go, shoo

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