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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
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Re: divining anything for Artemius, however, I'd suggest faking til she makes it, or else the gentleman might prove less than sympathetic in his reaction.
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I don't think she would try to do it FOR him (unless he asked, then absolutely). She'd angle it as a friendly introduction, a cordial conversation with the host, maybe compliment him on the party and ask casually about his interest in necromancy but otherwise not verbally get too into his business. If he starts to act cranky, she'll politely try to bow out.
She'd be hoping that she can secretly glean info/visions using her clairvoyance about his rivalry or any hidden purpose related to current or recent goings-on, for her to share with the group. Like maybe a conversation behind closed doors, a feeling he has, a thought he had, something dramatic that happened or Will Happen.
Vanessa can definitely skip faking it, right to making it, but I wasn't sure if that would be too much too early. If successful, it wouldn't be something he should be able to sense unless he's also got the skill. If he can sense it or is just annoyed and gets pissed at her, I am OK with whatever consequences that entails.
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If you decide on a thread, if you're okay to start, that would be A+ !
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He must know something that she's supposed to find out. She doesn't hurry it, letting her gaze linger when she does spot him. He doesn't look easy to approach, and so she mustn't be overly friendly, nor does she want to blend into the background. Vanessa carries on with her divinations, most frighteningly successful except for the one or two unlucky or stubborn client, until she catches their gracious host not far off about to depart a conversation.
It's only polite to greet the host, perhaps congratulate him on his 'victory', but she has no interest in his guards. Her steps are light, not that it matters in crowds like these, carrying her close but not too close, and she'll wait for their eyes to meet before dipping her chin in deference. She ought to hold out her hand, but caution keeps it near. If he hurries past, Vanessa hopes she can sense something of note, even if it's carries in a dismissive air. ]
I haven't witnessed such extravagant merriment and free-flowing libations in many years. [ It's the truth. Why lie? Appearances must matter to him, judging by his garb. ] Quite a magnificent gathering, sir. I must thank you for an unforgettable evening—yet to be concluded.
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And he is. Ain't only the liquor easing him to the thought, the hard drink he's still twirling in the glass of one hand, the second long emptied but carried around listlessly. Truth be told, he's meant to give it to the servants, but he remembers days when he wore the helpers' apron, still barely a butcher's apprentice, before his fate turned, and he can damn well ferry his own drink.
He's not too much a gent for that. Not too much of one to ignore the pretty woman who throws'erself in his path, like he doesn't know her sort. )
Quite all right, s'all right, all of it... you're a guest here, my fine and honoured guest and... ( Well, there's a grin, there's no helping it. ) Not one o'the girlies, are you?
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Though she shakes her head, her smile teases and her voice is low. Coyness is something she knows. It hasn't been that long since she's enforced social niceties. It's just so rare that she puts in the effort when the stakes aren't personal. That's why it's important to remember that despite all the strange faces surrounding her, one of them she must know, and so this is personal. ]
Not a girl at all, sir. [ Still teasing. ] Vanessa Ives.
[ In this case, his busy hands suit her just fine. Freed from being expected to offer hers in introduction, she'll opt for another nod, and the barest dip of her knees in what could almost be considered a curtsy if one doesn't blink. Remarkable what she can suffer to reach her goals. ]
I wished to offer you my utmost appreciation for sharing your good fortune with so many. I must confess that I felt quite lost before tonight. I wonder how many other souls you saved from listlessness? We all need a purpose.
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This job, any job, is about gritting your teeth and managing expectations.
He does not offer his hand, for he is a host and a man, and she's a girl by any other name. But he sets down the emptied glass on a window's sill, ill balanced, and minds the half-filled one, twirls it, takes a sip. )
Must be some two hundred people'ere. We don't count. ( But he'd heard from the kitchens the order to cut the meats thinner, and he recalls all too well what that means: guests aplenty. )
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She hopes to not need to bother. It's been a strange night that's added an energetic thrum to her clairvoyance, even if it's also left her body fatigued. That, and the fasting. Vanessa must ignore her discomfort; none of that's real. What's real is the puzzle she must piece together to open the door and awaken. This man may not be important in the larger scheme, but the placement of the occult is too poignant for her not to at least consider his role in her...haunting. Vanessa hadn't been lying about feeling lost before tonight, but she is still finding her (weary) footing. Her hands remain clasped low, but she's ready to reach for the wall should she feel dizzy, and her smile still doesn't lack. ]
There aren't many great men who are so generous with their success. I wonder if there's a fascinating tale to accompany such a victorious spirit? With rapt attention, perhaps I may learn how to achieve my own triumphs elsewhere. ...Though, forgive me, you must have other engagements.
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She's hoping, Artemius supposes, he has excitement in his past, so she might blossom of it like a parasite. So she might think of it in fascination, while she entertains a dull-witted suitor, or tackles her stitchwork.
Well, another sip downed, he can help there. )
What's it exactly you're asking after?
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[ Her smile grows at his compliance, sidling closer to invite intimacy. Her hands stay clasped. She shouldn't be too specific, lest he wonder just what else she might be on about. Vanessa's shrug is barely a flutter as she bites her lower lip in momentary consideration.
There may be no reason for her to concern herself. Perhaps he has nothing more than bravado to follow his newfound wealth, but Vanessa stays patient. If he's in no hurry, then neither is she. She keeps all of her senses open to him. ]
My world before now was...much smaller, you see. I wish to hear of recent adventure. You've conquered adversity, have you not? Put fear into your foe? Isn't that what makes heroes? Kings, even? In the ballads, I mean.
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His grin comes dour, over the rim of his glass, readied to do battle. Only days before, it would have still born the red of old Ed, but he's cleansed since then — washed his hands of it. Of Ed. Of what that feud's made of him. )
Couldn't tell you. I'm not much of a learned man, me. I'm not ashamed to say I didn't have a need for it.
( But perhaps he should head on to his other guests, sooner than dally. Women who do not make their intent known are not to be trusted, not to be courted. He starts to walk, slow to extricate himself — )
Have fresh drink. Enjoy the merrymaking.
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Does throwing herself at him feel any...richer? Vanessa resists the hope of gaining any satisfaction from tonight's excursion. However this goes, even with scattered results, they come with a bitter flavor. Is that blood? She tastes rust.
Speaking again is as much a gamble as anything before it, but her heart isn't so tender as to be wounded by the threat of a second dismissal, or worse reactions. Aggression may be preferential (any strong emotion can trigger a clearer vision). If he's decided that she isn't worth his time, why not throw all of her cards on the table and ask outright? There's nothing to lose anymore, except her soul.
Vanessa steps aside with a polite nod ('of course, sir'). Her smile wilts (somehow she keeps from glaring), and her voice follows him whether or not he stops. If nothing else by evening's end, she's curious about the purpose of the séance, or if this is just as commonplace here as London dinner parties. She hopes it isn't the latter. ]
Before you go, if you please. Why did you invite anyone willing to speak to the dead? ...Were you seeking a ghost of your own tonight, sir, or perhaps already being haunted by one?
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A strange question, pinching his brows, arresting his attention. )
It's popular, innit? With all the talk of skirmishes with the dead in the east. ( A careful shrug, ungainly on the bulk of his frame, for all he calculates it. ) You're no one if you don't know a necromancer or a séance psychic, these days.
( Or better yet, the thin edge of his smile might convey, if you lack the funds to contract such professionals. His gaze walks the room, washing over the multitude of insignificant and memorable heads. )
They're ones for the sport, anyway.
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She knows of the undead, but why would they want to interact? She suspected it was always the 'mystery' of the thing that drew others to séances in London, but in this realm it seems like a point of fact that everyone accepts. Perhaps being aware of the risks make it even more enticing, here. ]
Such talk is worrisome, even here, isn't it?
[ Her eyes follow his only a moment before returning to consider what this means for her. Her brow is furrowed, but not so much to make her look sour. Just a touch of worry. ]
Not from the east, but some dear friends sent word ahead of recent dangers, nearly caught up in their own 'skirmish', as you say. People surely died. ...And so, I dare ask something else of you, good sir.
[ A pause, and she bites her lip. ] I worry that...my world is in fact too small, with too many doors closed, so that I will not be able to offer my dear friends the refuge they require when they reach our shore. [ Another glance towards all the 'necromancers' he was able to afford. ] You are powerful enough to open doors, aren't you? You help the needy. Well, if you will forgive my brashness...my friends are desperately in need.
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It flatters inklings of him that are root without grown branches, to be their provider. To think there is a part of him, inescapable, whom they might seek out first.
They come to him. For all he is an uneducated man of primitive means, with neither rank nor luck nor looks, to him.
And he smiles back, feral. )
So's every rat on the street. What'll they give?
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That smile. No doubt, he'd take it all if she offered it. Better not, then. Better not to go pointing fingers at any of her companions, either, without better testing the ground. Would they trust her with the money? It's a risk to assume, but everything here is a risk. ]
They need not barter their few remaining belongings after losing so much. I would offer whatever is needed to ease their passage. [ She needs to watch her words better than that. She might offer a divination, but she's wary of it putting him off too soon. He seems about control, this one. ] Coin can be provided.
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He knows the sort, honourable to a fault. Hard business, quick to renege a pledge, if matters... complicate. His mouth sours and thins, and he wonders, to the heart of him, if it's worth taking the risk.
And then, the pieces come together. )
They for... up? ( And hastily: ) You ain't from here. ( Clear, for how she speaks, how she holds herself. ) Are you going up with them?
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It isn't just herself she risks, though. She doesn't care if she's ignored, denied, or at worst thrown out of the party, but should she be willing to mention just how many of her new folk are also...from...elsewhere? What if the wrong attention finds them. Stop worrying. They're set dressing. They're not real. She's the only thing that's real. Remember that, remember that, remember that. The sigh she lets escape is too small to make noise, and her clasped hands tighten a moment before she nods. She suspects he'll want a larger payout, now, if he agrees. Or a dangerous favor. Perhaps a future IOU that will haunt her. Would it really matter? So long as he agrees to help in any form. ]
...You have found me out. My intentions are laid bare, leaving me vulnerable to your mercy, Mr. Bale. Please know I do not make such a request lightly, or without care for the risks posed.
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A vulnerable woman. A woman of means, by the look and speech of'er. Don't come so often in the Mouse House with these trims. And she's pretty and fine and she'll do mighty fine above. )
Course... course... you've got your troubles. ( And the dusted, thick edge of a cough later: ) I've got me mine. Sometimes, they're... above.
( His gaze sinks, then seeps up, trails a fine line to the ceiling, as if Serthica might open up and swallow him whole. )
Could do with a pair of eyes there. Pretty ones.
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Anyone with a brain would take a moment to consider. Vanessa hasn't a clue what awaits her when she reaches Serthica proper, and to promise her services as a spy is certainly a tightrope walk that she hadn't expected. She's surprised; she shouldn't be. Danger, girl. Nobody would make such a suggestion without planning trouble. ]
...Well. I did wish for adventure, and here you are offering it. No doubt, I'll be more encouraged to have a keener eye when I return. In the company of old friends, of course. [ Slowly, she'll smile again, but not too much. He is the one making the offer, and she is the one to be guided by it. Ever respectable. ] And perhaps, a new friend to share a correspondence.
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And he'll make it, off her back and her patience. He'll reap it thick and righteous. )
A good lady should be meeting her friends. ( Then, with a wave of his cup: ) We'll make it happen for'er.
( He will, he'll do that. And he nods along where his man stands, his second mate, ever present with his papers and bookkeeping, with his observations. Make another ledger tonight, that he will. )
And you'll me the favour of'em answers, when I write. We're in agreement.
( No negotiation here. No compromise. ) What do you need?
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A glance darts between Artemius and his man, then over her shoulder, before back to her newest...sponsor. She can't know yet how much her companions have already managed, and she won't until after the party. This is her One Chance, and so she must make it count. ]
There will be quite a few arriving. [ Isn't she the friendliest? All of the friends want to come live the high life with her. ] A couple dozen, at the least. I fear there are children, too, so perhaps more. An even thirty, to be safe?
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Will cost him a handsomer penny, to see her affairs sorted. There's too little drink in his cup to drown out that sting.
He reaches, again, fills his measure. In passing: )
Twenty-four.
( No negotiation. No compromise. ) And I want me regular correspondence.
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She'll have to trust that it's enough. There's faith that the company she keeps has been busy. ]
I am a woman of my word, Mr. Bale.
[ It isn't as if she'd had to specify what she needs to share with him, though the details will likely end up finding her before she's allowed too many restful nights.
Taking a step back to allow the space, she curtsies (barely; just a blink). ]
My friends will be overjoyed. Thank you. [ Even if it isn't a favor. She must remember manners. ]