westwhere | the mouse house

Entry tags:

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.

THE MOUSE HOUSE

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!

Image source.

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.

Image source.

✘ 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 ~~breaks their backs~~ helps clear out the tracks by 13:00 will earn considerable good will with the citadel’s distraught customs office.

■ 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!

QUESTIONS

NPC CONTACT

GAINS

GRAB A FRIEND

Threaded | Flat

Please, no photographs!

You can request a thread with one of the following NPCs for information gathering or your personal joy. The only ask is to please aim to finish the thread by 10 August and to consider sharing any big ticket information with the group at large.

Ma'am Mariol: jovial, maternal but crafty, Ma'am Mariol serves as the matron of the Mouse House largest urchin group and looks after her own. She's well meaning enough, but rewards recklessness with a sour temper.

Gavroche: come on. You just know this is an urchin.

Rayssa: only available if anyone rescues her and if your character is part of those efforts. A considerably skilled forger with criminally expensive taste.

Artemius Blake: only open if you're attending his party — the biggest kingpin of the Mouse House, after deposing his long-time rival, Edward Three-Hands. Despite his currently lavish dress, he was once a humble butcher.

If you've threaded out any quest to completion, list it here — you'll get your, er, money's worth for it. You can keep threads quick, dirty, hilarious — just no handwaved action, please!

Please submit threads by 23:59 GMT on 10 August — merci!

Edited 2022-08-01 18:47 (UTC)

In the interest of avoiding too much killjoy plotting, this is just a thread if you have a quest you're really keen on and urgently need to find a fellow player/partner in crime.

Please keep requests to this thread — thanks!

( ooc: open to wildcards AND entirely open to action spam comment responses too. i have no preference between action spam and prose. :) red can see souls/auras so please fill out this permission post if you're interested in playing with that. )

mariol's
What the fuck has been the thought racing through Red's head since landing in the sand and heat. This is not the Underworld. This is not the city she briefly fell into. Hades is not responsible for her being here, and the Merchant's answers leave a lot to be desired. But sure, yeah, from following one god's orders to now following this-random-fuck's orders. She doesn't belong in the world she came from and she doesn't belong here either.

At Mariol's, she pokes the weird soup without really wanting to eat it, asking the newbie nearest to her: "Wanna take bets on what's inside this shit?" Other sleepless nights in the cramped quarters has her tossing and turning before she stares up at the ceiling and releases a: "Fuck." likely too loud with so little space between them.

ploy & plunder
Stealing an invite to the party's not hard neither is convincing people she's a necromancer. It's not that she looks like one even dressed up in fancy dress (she's never actually worn a fancy dress before or been to a part like this one) - she still looks like a teenager (and kinda is and kinda isn't). However, her unique ability to see people's auras means she's got private information on hand, which she can blame on a spirit of a loved one, telling her their secrets. Granted, she does have a connection to the spirits and dead, but not all the spirits at the party seem to want to talk.

Some of these partygoers are so desperate to talk to those they've lost, they blurt it out, revealing even more than she'd otherwise know: 'Is Malinda there?' 'What about my dear departed husband?'

She doesn't understand grief, or family, and barely began to understand friendship before she was ripped away from the only two friends she's ever made. And she's not exactly charismatic.

She recruits help from any newbie nearby by asking in a low whisper, "Hey, you want to help with this? Maybe bring some kinda haunted flair to this? Like sound effects and shit?" or "That guy's been violent his whole life - we can use that to convince him that his dead sister wants him to try a more pacifist route and aid a traveler.'

lady luck loves you
Red somehow (through ancient, psychic intimidation) manages to win every single rat race she enters. She targets a different rat each time, and it ends up terrified, squeaking, running faster than they ever have before, but she's making good coin and learning to not win all the races or people get suspicious. She'll wave over any newbie here, and then quietly: "Wanna know who to bet on?"

And she also (channeling the ancient Cerberus inside of her) wins exactly one arm wrestling match against a particularly burly man who was on a high winning streak and all bets were stacked against the small looking teenager who dared volunteering.

"The hell is wrong with you? There's no way you coulda done that unless you ain't normal." He bellows, getting in her space - this is a man who has lived his life intimidating others.

Red doesn't back down, jaw locking as she stands up straight - she's not gonna be able to channel that strength again, but like hell is she going to be intimidated. "The fuck is wrong with you? It's not my fault you're getting so emotional over losing to a girl."

A man being told he is 'emotional' is also apparently upsetting to him. It results in his hauling her up by the arm. "Tell me what you did."

"Go to the crows, ya crybaby," she says, and he shakes her, and so perfectly rationally, she responds by spitting in his face. He drops her in surprise, and she's gonna try to sprint out of the way. And that's about the time all hell breaks loose with shouts and fists flying.

Edited (edited to add that i'm 100% open for action spam and add a specific ancient greek curse ) 2022-08-02 16:59 (UTC)

■ All Aboard

[ Finn's been pretty quiet since they've arrived on this planet. Granted he was extremely upset about being stuck in a desert again and didn't want to make a fool of himself by snapping at a stranger in the first five minutes- But even once they were in the Mouse House, Finn's more or less kept to himself. He's spoken when necessary, seemed friendly enough, and has probably been seen having conversations with the orphans more than once.

Truth is, he's losing his mind. The desperate hope that he's going to wake up back home has yet to come to pass, though, so he's begun to get a little more active every day.

Today, that includes literally doing mind-numbing work, which is exactly what he's been needing from the start. And it's hot down here, no wind to speak of, so he's down to a sleeveless undershirt that's mostly there to just hide the scars. He's been using shovels, swinging picks, and stopping suddenly every now and then because of a skittering sound at the edge of his vision... Probably nothing.

About an hour later, he catches a really good look at a rodent of very unusual size as it scurries by about a foot away.

His scream echoes. Also, don't forget to duck, because that shovel just went flying. ]

■ Lady Luck Loves You

[ After a few more days of this, Finn decides he's lost his mind and finally gets a little more comfortable with this whole mess. So he goes out and does something a little stupid. Gambling.

It's not like he has a lot of money or that he's the only one using it (he might have been buying things for the kids lately, whoops). But he's always been kinda lucky where it counts. Plus, he's finally admitted to himself that he has a touch of the Force. How hard could this be?

He loses everything in five minutes.

Thankfully, some guy wanted to make a mockery of him, betted a hefty pay if he could win against them in a quick arm wrestling contest. If he lost, there was some ominous threat about owing them? Anyway, thirty minutes later and Finn has a whole table to himself with a stack of coin with drinks all around.

If he sees you coming in, you're going to get something along the lines of: ] Hey! You wanna play? Want a drink? I'll get you a drink--

[ Let him have this. He's living. ]

■ Wildcard

[ ooc: If you see nothing you like or want to change a prompt a little, go crazy! If you're not sure about something, feel free to ask! I'd love to do whatever.

As a note about the first prompt, because of the Force thing, I figure the rats will probably be chill with him maybe (he's got a history of that sort of thing in the comics), so we can play with that if you want. But he also has a terrible history with animals, so encounters will likely not end well. ]

1. walk, walk, fashion baby (ploy & plunder)

[ The clothes she’s seen people wearing in Mouse House look uncomfortable, revealing, and like nothing she’s interested in putting anywhere near her body, but there’s still work to be done, and the party some of their group have secured invitations to will be a wasted trip if they all look like they don’t belong there.

Stealing doesn’t sit right with Fei, and it shows in the way her jaw’s set while she walks through Mouse House with one of the other new arrivals, frowning at the dilapidated buildings that flank them on either side. The beginnings of an idea start to form as she sizes up her surroundings, mulling over how doing something she knows is wrong could be turned (at least somewhat) into a right. ]

We find a nice house, with young people in it.

[ She’s so concise when she speaks it could read as an order, but before the person she’s speaking to has a chance to question her words, Fei finishes her thought, walking briskly with her eyes on the cobbled path ahead. ]

Ma'am Mariol, and her charges - they need better things to wear. If we take them off the washing line no one will know we were there, if we take them from a wealthier-looking house, we will know they have money, and those are not all the clothes they own. We can help them, and the ones going to the party.

[ It sits a little better with her than simply stealing to better just their situations, and it’s definitely a lot less egregious than jumping innocent people and stripping off their clothing in an alley. If they can dull the edges of the wrongs they have to commit to get to where they need to go, then, why shouldn’t they? ]

2. any coal’s a goal (all aboard)

[ Okay, so maybe keeping a dead rat pinned to the wall via that silly little junk sword she was given when she came here isn’t the coziest sight for a newcomer to be greeted by, but in her defense, Fei felt it sent a very strong message to the other rats. She’s got work to do, after all, and the amount of gold that’s on offer to clear these tracks and let the train pass is more than enough to help them in securing safe passage for the rest of the group. Though she’s been told he’s alright, she’s not going to be able to relax completely until she’s been reunited with her idiot husband, and that thought is all the motivation Fei has ever needed to press on with any task thrown her way.

Still, shoveling out these tracks is grueling, backbreaking work, and she’s a swordsman, not some grunt with hulking muscles, but at least the work it took to heft the weapon strapped across her back has given her enough strength over time that she can work for good stretches of time without having to stop.

It’s one such break she’s on when she hears someone approaching. Fei quickly pockets the flask of liquor she’s carried with her from home, her cheeks puffing out as she takes a big gulp before hiding it. Thankfully she swallows before anyone sees, lifting her shovel as she nods in the stranger’s direction. ]

Do you know how much time is left?

[ Her dark eyes dart in the direction of all the track that’s still left to clear. She doesn’t want to think about not having enough time to get it done. They need that gold, and if she has to work without ceasing, she will. ]

3. brawlers, bawlers, and bastards (the scribe)

[ Even the name of the tavern is repugnant, but Fei understands the importance of the stranger she’s meant to keep safe, and even though this place stinks to high heaven of rotting alcohol and acrid sweat she stays where she is. Off to the side with her back mostly turned towards the rest of the establishment she keeps watch over the patrons.

Everyone looks seedy, but there are a few among the crowd that seems to have an air of readiness about them despite the presence of drink. These are the folks she pays special attention to, reading them as potential threats and sizing them up between small, calm, sips of wine. When the time comes and Rayssa shows her face, it’s them that she’ll expect to go for first.

Until then, however, there is nothing to do but wait and watch each person that comes through the door.

When Fei spots a familiar face - one of the other new arrivals staying at the orphanage - she turns enough to catch their eye, and, after assuming they are here for the same reason that she is, cock her head towards the table she’s occupying, issuing a wordless invitation to join her.

She’s not the best at small talk, but Fei understands how valuable an extra set of capable hands can be when the environment of a tavern turns violent. ]

Sit. Do you drink?

[ It's as fine a hello as anyone might get from her, and the absent wave she issues towards the bottle of what passes for wine in this place is as warm a welcome as she can muster given their fairly awful, very smelly, situation. ]

4. the wildcard

[ something else? shoot me a message if you’d like to work out something different, i’m open to anything and live for some plotting. also i'm happy to match format if prose is more your gig! ]

Edited 2022-08-02 00:09 (UTC)

MA’AM MARIOL's }

[ It's impossible to sleep in; such is the rub when she's finally in a place where her dreams aren't haunted. For any else too paranoid to sleep easy in such an alien world, Vanessa has been eager to find her pillow each night. Any chance she has to drift away means that she might open her eyes to find herself back in the waking world; back with the Devil. This, she wants.

So rarely is she allowed her desires, though. Each morning, well before six, her eyes are wide open and her hair is already pinned back. The growing volume of her ticking pocket-watch follows her every movement, and she glides as if to match the tempo. The louder it grows, the more her muscles tense and her gaze sharpens, always ready before the clock strikes six. It arrives with a distant shudder and groan from the city beyond, and a tiny, metallic shriek from the pocket-watch in-hand. Each morning, she's dressed and poised, always staring at the door. She waits for the enemy (none appear).

If she stands in anyone's way, frozen and staring at voids of space like a Victorian doll, she's too entranced to notice. Forgive her. Or call her out.

...

Given the time to settle down on her own, however, and Vanessa might find someone nearby to approach with a light step, her smile carefully crafted as they both head for the door. ]

And what are your plans for today's mischief?

[ That's all any of this is, isn't it? Devilment. It's a trial, as if Satan expects her to turn her back because of the risks, and she won't be cowed by it. Instead she'll dance her way back to Satan's waiting arms. How else can she get close enough to cut his throat? ]

PLOY & PLUNDER }

[ There's no telling for certain where the Demon hides, but Vanessa thinks he may just be where necromancy claims to dazzle. A jest on my behalf, beloved? something deep and dark hisses. She'll take the bait, but she won't play the game his way. She won't be bedeviled again, as if she could forget what still awaits her beyond this vision. They aren't here, but her family will need her when she frees herself from this hallucination, and for that she'll do anything. Attend a party? She's already dressed for the occasion, although her fashion is subdued compared to many (almost humorless). Steal an invitation? That requires a little more help from another, but somehow she's made it in. ...Pretend to commune with the dead? Buyer beware.

Even if she views this as a hallucination or a psychic visit to the underworld, there's a nagging sense of responsibility when presented with the opportunity to contribute in the best way she can. Money itself doesn't interest her, but proving she's not afraid of Lucifer's ploys is of singular importance. There's also the matter of proving herself useful to this new company... Even if they may very well be Lucifer in disguise, figments of her imagination, or the souls of the dead made manifest. If so, they don't seem to be the type of undead that hunger for her: those that she's been warned are also here. Of course they are, my sweet.

Her 'tricks' are most convincing, but that's because they aren't tricks. While others may be charlatans, Vanessa refuses to be so cruel as to create false ghosts to any who come to her with tears in their eyes and a whimper in their voice. It doesn't make them less the fools, but they are pitiable ones.

Whether the divinations of others nearby are false or real, the danger to Vanessa's soul is ever present. She wants to prove herself, but not to a blinding degree. She refuses to use herself as a vessel and she's careful who she touches, keeping a table always between them and never handing them anything. Some Tarot cards are laid out for them to carefully choose (crudely cut and drawn by Vanessa during the previous night), or even animal bones for those wanting a more immersive experience. Should anyone be drinking tea instead of wine, she may even divine answers for them with the leaves.

Even without using herself as the vessel, the more she carries on her work, the louder the spirit inside cries out to the worlds between. It's desperate to strike through and croon to all the children of the underworld, but never loud enough to invite them in. They keep a distance and speak in the form of a breeze ruffling skirts and hair, or a flickering of the lights. One or two of her clients doesn't need her translation: they convulse before wheezing out the regrets of dead souls that nobody ought to know, and deep in their belly there's a long, drawn out croak that ends only when they run out of breath. Only then does the spirit leave them (by then a few have scattered from nerves). Vanessa is always kind and patient, but never too comforting. Let them scare; they seek that which they aren't prepared for.

She needs no help in creating the illusion of mystique. Her spirits are real, so no matter if someone leaves her table in heartfelt tears or white-knuckled fright, Vanessa has an easy time separating the people from their coin. It isn't something she enjoys, but she's done well to convince herself that nobody here is a 'real' person. They're set pieces, however gently she tries to treat them. All that matters is Serthica, then East, and then vengeance.

The dark humor isn't lost on her; she's undertaking the same deception as Evelyn Poole once did. Her death will be all the more fiercer for the reminder. With the mood Vanessa is in, Satan will end up an afterthought. ]

WILDCARD }

[ Maybe a night-time scene in their quarters, or maybe shopping, snooping, and exploring? She might even cheer on the gamblers of the group. Surprise me! ]

[ ooc; Vanessa's medium/magic powers are strong, so if your character is magic, psychic, or can sense spirits, you may want to check out her abilities & permissions opt-in. They can be affected by Vanessa's power or sense what's inside of her, if you want. Whether powerless or magical, though, anyone's free to receive an uninvited vision from her (past/present/future) at player request. ]

i. mariol's
[ The fur trim on Sylvain's clothes is probably your first clue that he's not going to have a good time here, or maybe your second if you've already gotten a glimpse at the look of pure misery on his face.

No sooner has everyone arrived and started trying to settle in than he's shedding armor and layers, sticking with only what he needs to remain decent (there are children about, after all!) And even with that, he still looks like he'd really like to just...take off a few layers of skin, if only he could?

He's so hot, guys. :( ]

Ailell without the lava. This city is Ailell without the lava. Why does the world hate me.

ii. the scribe
[ When the fists are done flying and the brawl's over and done with, the next matter of business might be even more trouble: getting Rayssa's materials back from a place that certainly has more than a few sets of eyes already on it. A straight fight was easier, in Sylvain's mind, but it'd be better if they didn't draw any more attention. ]

So, if we want to be subtle about this, I have a feeling that I might stand out a bit too much.

[ He's a 186 cm tall redhead. Those are, in his experience, not in great supply, most places. ]

iii. something else?
[ Any other ideas, I'm probably game! Hit me up. If you'd rather prose instead of brackets that's cool too, I will match you. ]

Threaded | Flat

QUESTIONS

NPC CONTACT

GAINS

GRAB A FRIEND

red | original character | ota