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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groundrules) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
westwhere2021-05-10 08:56 pm
A
I've cleaned up dirtier places than this! It'll be fine. We just need to make sure we have enough closed rooms for people and a clean place to cook first, and then do the rest little by little!
i hope babby crush is ok
A-ah, um, yeah. That, yes. [Scratch that: his very existence feels foolish] ..We can do it.
babby crush is absolutely ok but he probably won't notice it haha
[Xie Lian seems perfectly oblivious about the blush and stare. He'surveying his handiwork for now, and wiping his brow. He's honestly not wearing very much just a few layers of simple white robes and bandages around his wrists and neck, but he doesn't seem bothered by the cold either.]
This is almost nostalgic. It reminds me of the time I was fixing my shrine on Mount Puqi.
haha perfect i just think it's cute/funny
Ah- a shrine? [That's a topic he can latch onto, where maybe he won't think too much about how an impossibly beautiful person is talking to him] To who? I-if I can ask.
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Haha, it's... it's kind of embarrassing to say, but it was a shrine to myself.
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Oh. That's.. you're...?
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And, well, I didn't really have any shrines left of my own, so I figured I should just make one so that more believers could come. It wasn't super successful, but at least it was a place I could call home.
[Now it's different of course, but... even then, he'd still call small, vaguely dilapidated Puqi Shrine home. It's better than the Heavenly Palace for sure.]
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Eleven smiles, sheepish and a touch apologetic. Somehow with that knowledge, it's easier to look at and speak to him now]
I'm bound to a Goddess already- Yggdrasil. Um, is it too much to ask.. what you're a God of?
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Ah, well...
[Let him pick up his rag again for cleaning while talking.]
When I first ascended, I was a Martial God. But then, a lot of things happened, and I ended up back in the Mortal Realm for a while. I sort of had to try and make a living, and the best job I could find that i could do was collecting scraps, so now people call me the Scrap Immortal.
[Not super impressive, he is aware, but he's not looking for glory or a bi General title, so that's fine with him.]
At least, I'm quite good at it.
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Oh. [That is. Certainly an odd thing to be a God of. Is it even really necessary? But those thoughts come to a halt to see him cleaning again.]
Ah- you- it really- you shouldn't have to.. I mean, cleaning is a pretty uh, lowly task for a God..
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[Did he just pump his fist? Yes he did.]
Besides, we're all int his together, right? So we should all help out in any way we can. My luck isn't very good, but this at least I know I can do.
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I guess if that's what you want..
[Then it isn't his place to tell him otherwise.
But he does have questions. So many of them- as any mortal likely does when faced with a deity for the first time. ..Or second, in his case, but Yggdrasil's only means of communication had ever been through visions]
I didn't imagine even Gods could be bound to this world.
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[Because then it ends badly, hahahaha, don't ask Xie Lian how he knows.]
Usually, if we have to go down, we'll appear as something different, so normal people would not recognize us.
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Of course, he can't really help but look back to the God, as though his appearance may have changed with just the mention of possibility. But he hasn't, and Eleven glances away quickly again. There's probably another good reason he shouldn't stare.
And some questions that might come off rudely if asked directly. He hopes he can avoid such offenses, but he hardly grasps the social pleasantries that go hand-in-hand with speaking to nobility- much less the divine]
S-so ah, you.. chose to come to this one?
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[He gives Eleven a soft smile.]
Besides, my believer who would pray for me to help them isn't even here, so I can't have been called here by him. Whatever caught us, it must be really powerful.
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..I want to help. A God shouldn't be parted from the- the world and people that believe in him. So, if I can..
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I think we'll have to figure out a way to go back home all together, somehow. Besides, I'm sure they're fine without me.
[... Well, Mu Qing and Feng Xin are probably freaking and out, and hopefully Hua Cheng has understood that he is fine simply because Hua Cheng himself hasn't disappeared, which means his ashes are fine, and if his ashes are fine it's because Xie Lian is fine, but...]
Well, they're probably trying to find a solution ont heir side too, so who knows.
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Ah- yes, of course. We'll.. work toward that goal, too.
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Let's finish clearing up this room and see if we can light a fire over there if the chimney isn't blocked.
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With a goal in mind, Eleven turns back to productive sweeping, and slowly shifts a growing pile of dust, dirt, and debris toward the nearest entryway to be swept outside.]
I um, my name is Eleven, by the way.
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[Let him cup his hands and give a little bow.]
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Is that what you'd like to be called? Or is a title more appropriate?
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[He would really feel uncomfortable having any of these people call him 'dianxia', or having to explain what it means, and that not only is he a god now, he was a royal prince before he became a god.]
Im' not your god, after all.
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We call Yggdrasil by Her name. Though I guess.. She can't really say differently. She uh- Her mortal form is a tree. Or maybe that's just the name we came up with for Her. Or maybe Erdwin..
[Eleven huffs, shrugging] I guess it doesn't matter right now. It's good to meet you, Xie Lian.
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[Most gods are chatterboxes, Eleven.]
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