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westwhere2022-08-01 07:33 pm
groundrules) wrote in westwhere2022-08-01 07:33 pm
the mouse house
Welcome to Serthica’s Mouse House — a mini plot roll for recent newcomers, lasting until 11 August. Characters who opted in are in a different physical location but can contact the group at sea through their communicators. You can use the log post below to top level and mingle, or you can make your own logs and posts.
Characters awaken in the dessert, unburied from high sands, recovering in medical tents or drifting towards a caravan. After a day to mend, they are presented to the caravan leader — the Merchant, who provides them translation and communication devices.
He explains they are outsiders who have reached the world of Akhuras, where undead factions wage war with each other and the living. The undead summon otherworldly conscripts, to enslave or weaponise them in the conflict. The Merchant finds and transports such newcomers east, where beacons might return the visitors back to their home worlds. Other otherworldly guests are currently travelling the haunted Crossing Seas — the Merchant offers their names.
The group at sea will reach the beacon-bearing clockwork citadel of Serthica within days. Caravan newcomers are supplied 10,000 coins each, blade weapons and ship passage to the impoverished Mouse House — the underground outskirts of Serthica and home to beggars, smugglers, contrived thief networks and mercenaries. Here, they must complete a set of tasks to wrangle, muscle, thieve or bribe coveted Serthica passport papers for themselves and their incoming comrades. Good luck!
CHEESE FOR THE WHINE
- ■ The Mouse House is the literal industrialised underworld that surrounds Serthica. Coarse and labyrinthine, it has the gargantuan width of a very large vessel (50m). Here and there, crumbled makeshift stone roads show defunct rail tracks underneath. One train still runs in the outmost pathway of the Mouse House, taking daily imported coal shipments from the port to Serthica.
■ Often filthy, dangerous and entirely cavernous, the Mouse House comprises several crammed community homes — ‘rat mounds’ — some small illicit trade and forgery shops, and hideouts for opiate suppliers, slavers and thieves. Sleep lightly and watch your backs.
■ A pathway leads out to the ports. There are no windows, and the stuffy air is unhelped by limited ventilation. A strong scent of sedative incense blooms in the air to keep the criminal population tame(r).
■ Characters are taken in by Ma’am Mariol, the benevolent matronly leader of a ring of orphans who provide courier and espionage services for the various overlords of the Mouse House. Enjoy her hospitality: dried bread, questionable soup and a resting place in her breezy enclosures.
■ Ma’am Mariol looks after 12 valiant urchins. You can enlist their services but expect they’ll want pay.
■ Twice a day, at 6:00 and 18:00, the Mouse House suffers a dull shudder for a few minutes, as if suffering the echoes of a distant, rippling earthquake. Ma’am Mariol shares this is because the two city halves of Serthica are starting to swap places: Eidris comes up in the morning, while Minaras is overground at night. They only meet for one hour during the swap.
✘ PRIME OPPORTUNITY
Win passage into Serthica by completing quests from the list below. Multiple people can tackle the same assignment. Report in by 23:59 GMT on 10 August for your gains.
PLOY & PLUNDER
Highly superstitious gang leader Artemius Bale is holding a festivity to celebrate conquering the territory of former rival Edward Three-Hands . The crème de la crème of the Mouse House’s underworl attends in a bustling, tight space. Despite his recent victory, Artemius remains heavily paranoid and keeps his cronies on guard.
- ■ Steal decent garments and function invitations from attendees to join the party.
■ Ease the pockets of the many criminal merrymakers, while they’re enjoying their fine wine. The more coin you can collect for later bribes, the better.
■ Pass for one of the many séance holders and ‘necromancers’ Artemius Bale has commissioned to entertain his guests. Coax attendees that the dead want them to patron incoming travellers — You may need to pair up and simulate a few ‘haunting’ tricks to persuade them of your great necromantic talent.
■ Why not pull a fast one on old fox Artemius? You could even persuade him he has been cursed by Edward Three-Hands and will fall deathly ill or unable to enjoy his gains if he does not make amends for his wrongdoings… to your benefit.
ALL ABOARD
A time-honoured fixture of Serthica, the single coal train typically enters the Mouse House each day at 11:00 without threat or trouble. Loaded to brim, it brings in fuel and smuggled goods.
Come early morning, Ma’am Mariol’s orphan scouts mention the latest 6:00 shake has toppled large pieces of stone and metallic debris over a segment of the railway. As the train approaches, Serthica officials send word that anyone who
- ■ Grab a shovel. Use it wisely.
■ Careful with the various oversized rats that haunt the filthier depths of the Mouse House — they typically avoid groups of humans, but will jump you if you’re alone.
THE SCRIBE
Serthica’s most skilled forger, Rayssa is returning to the Mouse House after months of imprisonment in the citadel. She brings along decades of experience crafting passport papers — and a wealth of debt collectors who want the coin she owed before her disappearance.
It is widely known she will visit One-Eye Calliope’s tavern as her first point of call, to enjoy a first drink in freedom. Her pursuers will be waiting for her, armed, prickly and ready.
- ■ Win Rayssa’s good will and services by rescuing her from the inevitable bar brawl.
■ Head into her heavily watched quarters in the Mouse House to collect her tools of trade — inks, parchments, pens and stencils.
■ Hold her watch or her hair while a heavily inebriated Rayssa writes up your forged passport papers.
LADY LUCK LOVES YOU
If you’re no fan of honest looting, leave your fate to chance: the Mouse House’s various taverns and gathering places host nightly gambling games, from cards to bone dice, arm wrestling and a local favourite, mouse races.
Pair up to rig the games in your favour, and win coin, passport forgeries, clandestine passage or a crime lord’s patronage. You never know what favour the right name can earn you later!
NPC CONTACT
GAINS
GRAB A FRIEND
no subject
It's rare indeed for the Doctor to have an experience like this so quickly after meeting someone. To be suddenly known in ways he would have preferred - and has - long kept secret. Secrets have always kept him safe. He should have been more cautious and careful in approaching her, he realizes that now. The hint of a mystery about her drew him in, though, and he couldn't resist. He is now laid bare, vulnerable, feeling like he's on display.
Were he in possession of his psionic abilities in full force here, the Doctor would be seriously considering touching his fingers to Vanessa's temples and erasing all of this from her mind. But he's not capable of it physically, and as quickly as the thought enters his mind, he realizes he's not capable of it emotionally right now, either. It's a rare thing indeed, for the Doctor to squelch that urge to manipulate, to take away the knowledge of something that was stolen essentially, something precious - his memories - but it's only because the other part of him, the good part, rises to the surface. She hasn't seen everything, she doesn't know every facet of him and his life, but she's seen enough for him to be worried about a few different things.
What will she do with this knowledge? He doesn't sense deliberate malice from her, not a desire to harm, to twist, to tread out someone's memories for personal gain. No, he'd sensed compassion from her with other clients. Though, he's miscalculated this entire encounter, perhaps he's wrong about her intentions as well.
So, his next worry is, what is the price she pays for this ability? He may not understand it fully yet, where it comes from, the scope of it, what it is exactly, but he's seen enough of this similar power in the universe to know there is often - nearly always - a consequence for having an ability such as this.
As much as he wants to protect himself, a thought nags at him now, that he wants to protect her, too.
Many thoughts run through his mind, all in very quick succession. The Doctor's mind is always spinning so fast, a million thoughts per second. He wants to do right now what he's always done when faced with something heavy; he wants to run. He would run to his ship and leave if he could, but he can't. He's stuck facing this, at least for the moment. He might worry more at what she'd do with this knowledge of him, yet perhaps they can come to an understanding of one another. ]
Why don't you tell me? Does it hurt? I watched you with the others earlier. You don't just...show these cards and interpret them, you feel them. You carry it. What must that be like? Lonely, is it? [ Calling back her question to him. ]
no subject
The tole it takes is high, no doubt. This was a risk that she...perhaps, shouldn't have taken so quickly. ]
You already asked your question, Doctor.
[ Now, her smile is coy. She's being carried by the reading, unable to stay rooted in her own reality. Vanessa now exists in the in-between—the demimonde—and here there's no cruelty or kindness. There's only truth and secrets. But the secrets are opening, and Truth hurts.
Vanessa squeezes her eyes tightly shut as if blinded when she flips the next card. The Hanged Man. ]
But it's in your nature to seek answers. To flip them on their head. To look at them back to front, side to side, inside and out. To sacrifice yourself for them. You must know that truth is not the same as justice. Yet...you wanted it to be so, didn't you?
[ Her eyes stay shut, her hand settled over The Hanged Man, his simple form drawn upside down with one leg tucked behind the other. She's having trouble drawing her hand away to the next card, as if trapped. Then, there's the softest little hum that can be heard if one listens closely through the distant shrieks of laughter and endless chatter. She doesn't speak any words; she just hums. ]
no subject
It's when she begins to hum that song, that beautiful, haunting song that stood shoulder to shoulder with him as he faced down that parasite that fed on memories, that he begins to truly unravel. He's unsettled in a way that he hasn't been in a very, very long time. And he's alone here. He's grateful that Clara isn't here, that she's safe, but conversely, he's also selfishly desperate for her now. She'd know what to do better than him; it's the way of things, with the people he travels with. So brilliant, so beautiful, so much better than him, always better, and he's so proud. But that guilt that Vanessa speaks of, it's there churning around with his memories of everyone he's ever loved and lost. His friends, they've always been the best of him, but he's ruined so many of them in one way or another.
That thought brings him back to Vanessa now. There's a chance to help her somehow. This shouldn't be so, this shouldn't be happening. How could she know that song? What is this power inside of her, what is it capable of, and what is it doing to her? At least from where he's sitting, it seems so similar to the parasite he'd faced only recently himself.
He reaches out now to try and cover and stay her hand, if it's even possible. She seems trapped by it now, as though it needs to progress to its natural and eventual end. But if there's any chance at all of stopping it, he'll try. ]
Stop this. [ His voice is low, but firm, decisive. ] Vanessa, stop this now.
[ Not for his sake, even; for hers. ]
no subject
Her hand rips away as her eyes fly open, and Vanessa jerks backwards so suddenly that her chair rocks momentarily. With her hand clutched against her chest as if it's been scalded, Vanessa stares at The Doctor with a wild tremor keeping her eyes from holding completely steady.
He is a vortex. He will consume you. He's too powerful. He's too Other.
That was no red thread of fated love tugging at their fingertips; it was the silk string of a spider's web, trapping them for a cosmic supper. ]
...You shouldn't be here.
[ Not at the table. Here. In her world. This should be her world, and nobody else's. But he isn't set dressing. He is real, isn't he? He's real. He isn't a hallucination. But he isn't Lucifer. ...Is he? Could Lucifer's deception run so deep? Has she overestimated herself? She's trembling. Terrified. ]
no subject
In this case, he's barely been here at all and he's already terrified his young companion. She's tormented, though by what, he doesn't know exactly. At this precise moment, though, it's him. It's what he's done (or so he assumes), it's who he is, the deep dark inside of him; he thinks she must have seen it somehow, or glimpses of it possibly, and it's terrified her. The look in her eyes haunts him, the consequences of what he's done reflected through her eyes.
When she stumbles back, whimpering and trembling, his instinct is to soothe with words, with an offered touch, but that seems to have made all of this worse. ]
I shouldn't be. None of us should be here. [ He's worried about her, desperately so, but his voice is calm and steady, though he keeps a distance between them. ] We'll find our way back to where we're supposed to be, we all will - together - but right now, here is where we are. And you're not alone. I'm here and I want to help, do you understand?
no subject
The fragments of his life that had funneled into her remain, but she can now parse them; organize and separate them from her own life's traumas. His pain, his loneliness and regret, his anger and his hope, all of it still churns inside of her. Her tiny frame shouldn't be able to hold so much, and yet every time, she finds room. The ephemeral has no limit, though it's a wonder it doesn't drive her mad.
No, he isn't the Devil. He carries too much regret. He does what need be done, but without the pleasure a demon would partake in. ]
No. You shouldn't be here. You are not of this world. Not of my world, yet...you are no demon.
[ There's no anger in her voice as she unveils her confusion, only trepidation. He isn't any type of supernatural creature she's met before, and she can't understand how he connects to the Underworld. Unless? ...An angel?
Her fear heightens. If an angel of God was sent for her, Vanessa can't dare hope any longer that it's to save her. If it's come to end her curse by whatever means necessary, to prevent the Hell she's destined to unleash on the world, then she ought to embrace such an end, shouldn't she?
But she doesn't. The selfish part of her digs in, and her nails bits into her wrist as she slowly stands. God's angels didn't come for her when she prayed for them, but now they dare to extend their hand? Cruel. ]
Save your misguided mercy for your own repentance. I know the path that I tread, and it is one of solitude. You answered my call too late.
no subject
I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you needed someone and you were alone. But you are not now, you won't be.
[ Still, he keeps his distance. Can't risk making it all worse for her, she's been through enough as it is.
She doesn't need to suddenly accept his offering, nor would she. He's frightened her and he's a stranger from a strange land. But at least for the time being, he's not going anywhere anytime soon. None of them are. ]
I'll tell you what I am another time. It's more than enough for one day, I think.
no subject
The two of them are beings who are greater than their appearance suggests. Vanessa had thought that girl-who-was-no-girl was there to tempt her, and now she thinks The Doctor could be here to end her should she give in to that temptation. She can no longer trust that this is a mere hallucination.
Suddenly uncertain if she can trust any of her senses, Vanessa looks from him down to the cards, glaring at the unfinished reading. She's too afraid to continue, and there's hesitance even when she reaches to gather up the cards, as though merely touching them will send her into another fit. ]
I know what you are. I know what you have done.
[ The cards are shoved into her skirt's pocket before she crosses her arms protectively, fingers digging into her elbows in a defensive stance. She keeps her voice low, still, unwilling to draw attention from others at this point in time. ]
You are here to keep me from doing the same. You waste your time, and you underestimate my will.
no subject
Maybe not today, but soon, I hope, you'll tell me what it is I'm meant to keep you from doing. [ Again, he knows what she's implying. The total destruction, desolation, to which she's referring. But he wants more of it in her own words. Specifics. ] You see things, certainly, but I'm very sure that what you think you know is all very, very wrong. I am going to help you, one way or another. And I do mean, help you. Not harm you. Not ever. And if anything else is trying to harm you, it'll answer to me.
[ Whether or not she believes that doesn't entirely matter at the moment. He doesn't need her to believe it for it to be true. ]
no subject
She's been foolish. She's been overconfident in her assessment of this world. And perhaps he can see that, too, that even her iron will has cracks in it, all the way down to the foundation. Vanessa isn't certain what he sees; she only knows what she sees. Admittedly, fear of being seen eventually forces her to turn away (though not her back, not completely). ]
You ought to stop making promises that you can't keep.
[ It's whispered with an anguished strain. Vanessa doesn't judge him for it, but she still fears it. Even if she's wrong about his purpose here, she isn't wrong about the danger he represents. His hope can kill.
Vanessa needs air, except, there's really not much of that down here. Still, she's moving from the table, not even bothering to go looking for Fei. She just wants out, to shake and weep and pray where nobody can see her. That isn't going to happen, not here, so she'll have to do it all in the space of her mind. ]
Forgive me, but I am tired. Have a good evening, Doctor.