westwhere | out you go, shoo

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

Old habits die hard, Five.

And by old I mean he was doing all of them up until ending up here.

Gilbert nods at the information, before replying, simple and forward. "I haven't," he agrees. "Should I? Everyone else here seems plenty nosey about this place already. I would prefer to be as inconspicuous to the locals as possible."

Aside from any obvious stuff... Like clothing.

He's about to find out. The people who came on the ship are at an advantage, one that Five hasn't had the luxury of. They spent weeks avoiding forces that were looking for them specifically, dodging raids and tearing down crude posters of their likeness. It'll be interesting to see how he fares in the market.

"I'm sure you'll get by." And he understands the sentiment. Five's preferred method is to gather information and involve himself on his own terms. He's not the one to advocate for teamwork.

"They don't seem to take anyone who can't handle themselves. And it's still light out." So there's no real need to warn him.

"I will most certainly," Gil reassures. Still, he isn't about to let that sort of casual comment just float on by. It has Xerxes Break's kind of style all over it!!

"'They?'"

"Whoever 'they' are." It's sort of a general term, isn't it? He has his own theories about what brought them here beyond what's generally accepted, but that's a long story and he's got coffee to fetch. Someone else will probably be happy to fill him in.

"My name's Five, by the way." Since he didn't ask, which... seems to be a theme with him. Five nearly asks what year he's from, and what he remembers before coming here, but daylight is wasting so he starts walking and nods for him to follow him to the door. "Make sure you find me when you get back."

That's very little information... but again, it's very much like Break.

Gil nods, taking note of Five's name. Since he offered a name, it's only right to give one back. "Raven," he says, following the other to the door.

"Shouldn't take too long," he assures, pulling his hat from his coat and putting it on his head as he steps out the door. "I'm assuming you'll be easy enough to find?"

No complaints from this 'Raven' then. Great.

Five is even kind enough to hold the door open for him when he reaches it. Since he seems content to leave right away. It seems he was right, people like feeling useful when given a direction.

"In these walls, I don't think you'll have a problem. Voices carry." If he's prompt, he'll know when to expect him back. Five will be listening. -- Once outside, he points at a clearing between the trees. At least he doesn't spot any wolves lurking at the moment.

"You don't need any map to get you there. Just stay on that path." It's worn enough by now with how many made that trek. "The market is hard to miss once you're in town, but if you get turned around when you're finished, you can stop by the brothel. The House of Dew. They'll know how to point you back here."

They sure do, especially when said people are also looking for something to do and an excuse to poke around.

Gil gives one last nod to Five before heading off.

Consider it about 4 hours later before Gilbert returns, first heading to the kitchen to see if Five is there and then wander around to locate him if not.

Once he does find him, he comes to set a basic sac down on the nearest table.

"Found you. So, the coffee was a little difficult. But there were a few merchant traders that had an array. I got one merchant to be willing to give me a small taste, I think you will find it suitable. "

He takes out a can and it's full of coffee beans. "The merchant wanted a lot for grinding them, so I said screw it and went with a little higher quality bean and got a mortar and pestle for grinding them, instead. It's a little bit more work, but you'll appreciate the taste better, and they will remain fresher for longer if you grind as you go, especially in this weather."

Once he's set everything on the table to show he got everything plus the mortar and pestle as well as some cheesecloth for filtering the coffee grinds from the beans; he pulls out a bound notebook, some cigarettes, and a pen and small vial of ink for himself . He then proceeds to put everything else back in the sack for Five to be able to carry off with him that he's done looking at.

"That should be everything."

It's not that Five wasn't listening for Raven, but the lack of sleep might be starting to be an issue. He won't admit that he was dozing off when he jerks his head up from where he'd been scribbling in one of the books from the study. In any case, he's instantly alert once he sees him with the bag.

His eyes narrow at him. A few seconds later he remembers the errand he sent him on, but it's still a surprise that he returned already. As he speaks, Five stares in total silence as what's happening in front of him slowly reaches his brain.

Holy shit, he actually found some.

Five doesn't bother walking over to him, he teleports the few feet between them to grab the bag and look through it himself. Everything on the list, and more. This... this is good. When he looks back at him, it's like he already forgot he was there, and he tries to temper his excitement.

"Thanks." In a blink he disappears again, and soon after he's clanging things around in the kitchen nearby looking for that pot people have been using for tea and a mug. (These cupboards are a mess.)

It's been weeks since he's had a decent cup of coffee. Not since Elliot's unfortunate demise. Apparently his hopes are up that he might have just found his replacement.

(Wow, he actually said thanks.)

Gil blinks. Okay, the teleporting was definitely not a trick of the light as he assumed earlier, it seems. When he hears sudden rummaging in the kitchen, he figures he knows where Five disappeared to.

Gil takes a wander by, just to confirm, before he plans to leave. He's going to take a rest somewhere because this place obviously isn't going to be keeping to a schedule for them should shit hit the fan.

He finds the pot and turns to get the can when he sees Raven standing there. While it doesn’t make him completely stop what he’s doing, he’s a bit more focused on him now. Part of him is curious how he’d make it, though he doesn’t reach to grab him another cup.

“Where did you come from, anyway? I didn’t ask before.” It’s his standard question, so he might as well ask before he wanders off again. “Location and date. It’s almost rare to find someone who knows about coffee around here.”

"Levreaux, 1850," Gilbert answers, going to lean back against the frame of the entrance to the kitchen. As for the others and that many of their group don't know about coffee "Tch', yeah? When are they from, then? Coffee has been around for at least two centuries where I'm from."

( ooc: just fyi I made that date up, and a I'm just guessing at the translation of one of the cities that is mentioned in the manga. I'm pretty sure his world is based on Victorian era Europe, particularly France, but not actually supposed to be a real location.)

Edited 2021-05-26 23:52 (UTC)

He hums to himself, seeming halfway interested. 1850. That's not terribly far from someone else here at least. Not enough to form a pattern, but it's something.

"You'd be surprised." He sniffs the can of coffee beans once he gets it open, nodding a bit, then reaches for the mortar and pestle. "The earliest I could place is at the turn of the 17th century, but others aren't as easy to fit in the timeline. They seem skewed in one direction in any case."

Or they come from places that simply don't exist. Kind of like the anomaly they're living in right now, but without coffee.

"Remember anything before you came here?" He hasn't questioned the newcomers yet, so it seems like a good opportunity. For the sake of his notes.

Gilbert listens, giving a small nod. There's a group of them for the same time, and place, right?"

The second question gets him to pause momentarily before he is countering with his own question. "Like what?"

Politics? Friends? Family? Job? People to murder? What he cooked last for Oz and Alice?

"A few different groups. Some that know each other, so they were probably together when it happened." Like him with his sister, and the rest of his siblings he has yet to locate. Of course it would have been a lot easier if they would have landed in the same place, but this is typical of them.

"I’ll take that as a ‘no’." Someone in a suit carrying a briefcase would have been the helpful answer, but it’s not like confirming that would make a difference right now. (We'll circle back on murder.)

“What were you doing just before? Minding your own business?”

"I was trying to kill some bastard who deserves worse than death," Gilbert replies, his tone suddenly low and venomous. If only he hadn't been interrupted. If only he would just off-himself and do Gilbert the favor instead of having to hunt him down.

( Next time.
Next time that man will pay for the suffering he caused Oz.
Pandora be damned. Chains be damned. )

That reply gets him to actually pause in what he’s doing and regard him more closely. Up until that point he’s been so calm that it’s seems to come out of nowhere, a frustration that must have been building since he got here.

It’s strange when people are willing to be this honest with him, and he feels ill equipped to handle it. Like he deceived them without doing anything at all.

Frowning to himself, he reaches back into the cupboard for a second mug.

“How close did you get?” His tone is impassive, but he’s paying attention to his reactions. It might not even be an uncommon story, even if he doesn’t know the significance yet. But since he’s offering to make it easy on him, he’d be a fool not to ask.

"He's still breathing, so not close enough," is the response given, but Gil's frustration seems to let out slowly. "The very idea he's still around and might go near the young master while I'm stuck here really pisses me off."

He purses his lips in thought, still eying him.

"That's unfortunate." And he's back to tending to the coffee. The water is a little questionable, but there's enough to fill the pot. "'The young master'... are you a butler or something?"

The phrase he used reminds him more of Pogo, but he's not offering up free glimpses into his childhood by seeming familiar. And he's not sure he's ever heard Pogo curse, so the comparison sort of ends there.

Does he really want to divulge?

"No, not since I was a child."

That's more than enough, Gil decides. Not that any further information is secret, but Gil knows that the majority of the world is not interested to hear random people's sob stories, even when they ask or seem content enough to listen.

Poor water quality is going too hurt the coffee, but they aren't in much of a position to be picky.

Edited 2021-05-29 00:21 (UTC)

A child butler? Probably some family thing, which is interesting. It makes a little more sense with how easily he agreed to run an errand for him. -- That would have been a rare ask, but that might change depending on how this coffee turns out. Everything in the market is annoying for him to get when he's not outright stealing, and they'll need to stock up before they move on.

Heating the water is a bit primitive, but he gets the stove burning without too much effort. He's gone back in time enough that it's not totally foreign to him.

Small talk, on the other hand, comes a bit more forced.

"Well, you never know. Either one of them could be around here someplace." Five for one, is very positive his siblings are here, but they were with him at the time. "You could still get your chance."

It's complicated, trust him.

"He's definitely not here," Gil states a matter of factly. "Not now, anyway."

A little too matter of factly. He may not be out to pry too far into his past, but he does like to know what abilities people might have. If that's what he's hinting at.

"How can you tell?"

"My job back home is to hunt down powers like his. They are very distinct."

It's not the full truth, but none of it is a lie, either. Not that Gil isn't capable of lying or other shady things.

"What are you, a sorcerer or something? It's possible you would be able to detect it, too."

This just became extremely relevant. Five doesn't answer his question, but it may be obvious that this is the first time he's heard of this particular ability. After weeks of searching, it's hard not to get his hopes up.

"Could you detect mine, before you saw it?"

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returning from shopping

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