groundrules: (Default)
let's set d o w n some ([personal profile] groundrules) wrote in [community profile] westwhere2023-07-26 05:56 pm

the house of manouk | test drive meme


Hello, hello! Our latest event — doubling as a test drive meme and stretching until 12 August — is a one-off incursion in an uncharted time pocket dimension — the House of Manouk.

Anyone can hit up the test drive meme, but you will need an invite from an existing player to apply on 5 August. Have fun!


THE HOUSE OF MANOUK







THE TERRACE

Old or new, you wake up on a white-stone terrace dominated by a twisting hedge maze that houses great columns, tattered statues, ponds, rivers, gazebos and pergolas — and high looming walls of thickly bound ivy, bloomed roses or thorny vines. Walking the Terrace somehow always brings you deeper into the maze, while a flushed, sunless sky stares down, unblinking.

You experience no thirst, hunger or language barriers here. Old translation & communication pendants can nevertheless be found scattered across the Terrace and Grounds.

New arrivals encounter the sorceress Karsa, who explains you were likely summoned by one of the undead lords who seeks control of Akhuras — and reached, along with the party she leads, a pocket dimension outside of time. Karsa’s associate, the Merchant, instructed to exit the time dimension by finding Ellethian waypoints — typically stone tokens engraved with the carvings of an eye with a sun for a pupil. Karsa may activate them for you to leave this place.

Your mission is to search the House and find the waypoints of Ellethia or of the rival Dawn’s Reach Trade Company without attracting the ire of the local exiled overlord(s).

■ Some of the statues you discover on the Terrace seem crudely carved, gaining the features of your loved ones, the longer you stare at them. Some seek to throttle. Escape them by having someone else stare at them, becoming their new target, or by leading them in a crowd of other statues.

■ Beware getting pricked by thorns: covetous vines can quickly ensnare and pull you into the maze’s green walls, or bind your hand to that of your companion.

■ The maze’s weather often mimics your mood: nice and balmy for contentment, cold for fear, torrential rain for sadness and a heatwave to answer anger. Smile.

■ Every now and then, you hear screams from other parts of the maze. Run, and you might find pairs of steel manacles or rusted chain on bloodied grounds, from where fresh rose bushes quickly rise up. Investigate.

■ Go deeper in the maze, and you find a heap of small stone tablets. Most list names, ages, occupations and include loving remarks, such as the finest husband or she smiled ever bright. Alarmingly, when your companion’s back is turned, you find tablets engraved with your handwriting, saying, don’t turn your back to them, blood reeks strong on them and that’s not their name. There are no waypoint tokens here.

■ Spend enough time in the maze, and you discover an old, red-eyed, white-haired and hunchbacked man with two chainless shackles on his wrists. He ignores you, muttering to himself about how the House must keep moving, moving. The House doesn’t like you. The House is awake. The House should sleep. The old man hits or trips you with his cane, or you might wake to find him hovering very closely over you. Engage him.

■ Now and then, he seems suddenly alert, if not outright fearful, shrieking that he comes and rushing to tinker with pulleys and stone mechanisms hidden within the maze vine walls. The maze’s architecture abruptly changes, with the ground quaking, walls shifting, while old plants wilt and fresh ones rise up within heartbeats. As the House changes, you might spot a long, spiralling staircase at short distance. Go down into…




THE GROUNDS

The ground level of the House is splintered in dozens of decaying rooms, many locked. There are no windows here, dust thick in every corner, while faint scratches and canine footprints mar the floors — the marks of dozens of great skeletal hounds that haunt the corridors.

The dogs lead, chase or drag you towards a shuttered hall room, where a middle-aged, red-eyed and white-haired man furiously searches through haphazard mounds of tousled tomes. He too wears shackles. His manner is perfunctorily polite, as he calls back his dogs.

…not from around here, are you? Must have broken time. Hooligan. Well, you’ve travelled centuries to be disappointed. There are no mysteries here, no epiphanies. All the great wells of myth and magic? Some other pigs have drunk them dry. Blame your luck, for bringing you to the shambling hut of — …the fine House of Manouk. Taravast’s greatest necromancer, til his mind turned to slaughter.

I was his disciple. Lisanther. Must’ve come from high on, did you? These cursed shackles… he senses everyone in his House through them. If he feels us on his scent, he works his little screws and wheels and moves the House stairs. Impressed? Don’t be. He’s a wreck, who feasts on time echoes of the anguished. That’s him. Paints a picture, doesn’t he? Stay out of his sights, or you’ll wear his chains soon too. Same as me, same as the dog he keeps in the dungeons. Dragged back every time he wanders.

If you want to make yourself useful, help me. I traded fairly with a caravan of the Dawn’s Reach Trade Company. They say they left behind scrolls in these grounds, with the words to free me. They overcharge, but they don’t lie. Help me find them. Break my chains, and I’ll break us out. I can. I swear it.


Deeper into the claustrophobic Grounds, you find specters of men and women, chained just like Lisanther — their skin translucent, their gazes lethargic. They feel neither dead nor alive to the magically sensitive. They are either very present in the moment or barely recall their whereabouts. If asked about tokens, they say the Dawn’s Reach Trade Company left scrolls in the Grounds main quarters:

Bathing quarters

At times pristine and delightful, at others blood-marked and torn. The waters abruptly run very hot, cold or silty. The spectre of a wo/man might appear in the tub, staring unblinkingly or murmuring that people do all sorts of wickedness in this bathroom: they have even witnessed stabbings, treasures being hidden beneath tile boards, and even a birthing!

Kitchens

Sprawling and soot-laden, bursting with supplies of stale wheat, eccentric cakes, exotic fruit and spice jars, these kitchens were built for long service. A heavy cauldron bubbles and boils a green broth in a cold fireplace, where ash and stone drown wood. A circle of spectres troubleshoots how to improve the meal — just as the kitchens’ doors slam shut, and they cordially invite you to do the legwork for their recipe. They instruct you to chop, clean and prepare the most unusual ingredients: hair of a dog, salt, moulded thyme, arsenic, one of your finest love stories… they’ll tire of their creation and release you within the hour. Don’t dine, dash.

Sleeping chambers

There’s rest for the wicked in these deserted sleeping quarters, which boast exceptionally well-stuffed cushions and pillows, blankets and ‘reading materials’ — torn pages from books of history and magic. Some speak of the desperate attempts of the rulers of Taravast to flee death. Others talk of using spells, the elements and even mass sacrifice to achieve immortality. Enjoy your rest, only perturbed by occasional distant screams

…or perhaps by a large, feral white bear that bursts in to briefly chase you, before disappearing. Veteran travellers may recognise him as the creature of Anurr.

Some of the chain-breaking scrolls of the Dawn’s Reach Trade Company can be found in each of the main rooms, along with some of the Company’s talismans, marked as waypoints, which should be brought to Karsa. See what your character finds.

Finish up here, or meander down a final stairwell to —



THE DUNGEONS

Cold, deteriorating, crumbling — difficult to say if this is a tightly bound knot of underground tunnels, or a torturous weave of lost dungeons. Parts of the floor crumble to reveal abyssal depths below — or suddenly appear beneath your feet, to help your progress. Emptied, creaking bookcases abound. Here and there, you see your reflection in shattered wall-length mirrors, moving differently than you, or just slightly older or younger than you are.

Revived skeletons patrol the corridors, scantily armed with base blades, stones and torches. They largely ignore you, only blocking your path if you near a magically-locked stone door in the back of the Dungeons, from where you hear… human pleas.

■ Door engravings instruct to speak out the three truths of each day. Nearby, you find a mound of crumbled stone tablets, along with three golden ones raised on pedestals that read:

with morning, my body is a weapon, sun-seeking, righteousness-bound

by midday, my flesh has bent and battered, a shield of justice for young life to come

come evening, I am blood and bone, a humble house to hope eternal

■ Tip bookcases into the narrow corridors to prevent the skeletal guards from reaching you, as you search diligently through the stone debris beneath the golden pedestals. You might even find Ellethian waypoint tokens: palm-wide, marked with a sun pupil. Take them to Karsa immediately… or open the now unlocked dungeon door as a man calls out.

Enter, and you discover an dimly lit dungeon alcove, with animate skeletal heads hanging on each wall. They cackle, Mind your step. Heed them and look for holes in the floor tiles — needle-thin spikes emerge from there periodically.

■ Go deeper, and you discover a large bare stone room, scantly livened by torches bearing green fire. A small hole — barely enough to fit a grown man standing and lying down — has been dug into one of the walls and secured. This inhumane prison’s bars crackle and sizzle with magical electricity. A skeletal hound waits by, with a set of keys fastened to its collar.

■ A white-haired, red-eyed twenty-something young man sprawls haphazardly in the prison: battered, swathed in rags, shackled and wild. He holds out his blood-tipped hand between the bars, but fails to lure the dog close — and calls out to you, instead:

You must be mad to come to me. The old man sent you? Finally? Good. How wonderful. I’ll spit on you, and I’ll spit on his grave. He left me here to die. And now he’s remembered me? What does he want? …no. It doesn’t matter. Rip the keys off that mutt and get me out of here.


You can engage or release him, if you coax the key from the recalcitrant dog. Or leave him be and see Karsa with your waypoint token.



NOTES:

■ There are multiple waypoint tokens to leave the time dimension: the Dawn’s Reach Trade Company talismans, hidden in the Ground rooms, and the Ellethian tokens, found in the dungeons. Bring whichever one you discover to Karsa.

■ You can optionally solve the mystery of Lisanther, the prisoner, Manouk and the spectres.

■ The House’s layout changes periodically, but characters can find the stairs to travel across the three levels every few hours.

■ Mention in your top level if you play an old timer or a test driving tourist. TDMers can make both logs and network prompts here!

QUESTIONS & NPC INBOX!

subecho: (reckoning)

[personal profile] subecho 2023-08-03 10:55 pm (UTC)(link)
And other swill!
subecho: (starbux)

[personal profile] subecho 2023-08-03 10:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Thank you.
subecho: (children of the sun)

[personal profile] subecho 2023-08-03 10:55 pm (UTC)(link)
( Perhaps he should have paid closer mind to words shared. Perhaps he should have pretended to care at all.

The truth, as they both know it: he has yet to meet a lost cause he would not name, in his hands, secretly found. And so, the nod, imperceptible. )


Better a guilty man under our watch, giving us trouble, than an innocent one left to his rot.

( And hubris, as it is known, as it will come to surely doom him: ) He will not be what ends us, friend.
aprescoup: (karsa)

[personal profile] aprescoup 2023-08-03 10:56 pm (UTC)(link)
No. Not like this. What Anurr is, contained. Intelligent. Wicked. What these other monsters are: greedy. Indefatigable. Evil. You cannot restrain them. They must be stopped. Animals.
aprescoup: (Default)

[personal profile] aprescoup 2023-08-03 10:56 pm (UTC)(link)




( It is far too long of a time before Lisanther's attention peels away from the display of tomes before him, some opened and properly searched, some intact. He seems entirely consumed by his task, deeply bent over the table that hosts his wares.

The dogs scatter and assemble back by him, roiling, circling dissatisfied. Some return from their chase through the corridor, bearing debris. Others, empty-mouthed.

Lisanther seems to ignore one and all.

Then, finally, recalling Licyn: )


The Dawn's Reach Trade Company travel across dimensions, seeking... unfortunate souls to trade their wares and services at a premium. They charge an arm and a leg. And they take it after.

aprescoup: (Default)

[personal profile] aprescoup 2023-08-03 10:57 pm (UTC)(link)


Mine, his... it's all the same, isn't it? ( When he grins, it's an unpleasant thing, teeth sharp and gums reddened, and all of him old and rust, like a knife.

He glances in between the two who crowd him, and he is not a kindly old man, he does not wear the skins of that part well now — if ever he did. )


I did... did? Heh... hehe... did what the good Doxe wanted... hehehee.. ha... haaaaaaaa... ahh... he just forgot after. When he didn't like it. Forgot! What he asked for.

aprescoup: (Default)

[personal profile] aprescoup 2023-08-03 10:57 pm (UTC)(link)




"Good puppy," the prisoner repeats, already embittered even before his enterprising guest deigns to... go against the bargain they never quite struck. Good dog, as if this weren't the very same mutt that tormented the prisoner for weeks of silent stewardship, keeping the key at bay.

Now, the visitor has found a new way to prolong agony. The prisoner's beady gaze follows his every movement like a whip, threatening to come down.

"I thought we'd already gone over this. I told you what I can give you. A way out."

curtains: (89)

[personal profile] curtains 2023-08-03 11:02 pm (UTC)(link)
[ That was kinder than it needed to be. ]

... We should make more bandages for your eyes out of the bedsheets. You'll be having more nightmares for a while.

[ He doesn't move yet, just watching Xingchen. ]
brightestmoon: (Default)

[personal profile] brightestmoon 2023-08-03 11:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He nods tiredly. ] I have some more on me, but... that's probably a good idea. [ Though he doesn't imagine that any of the residents of this world would be terribly put off by someone bleeding from empty eye sockets. ]
curtains: (46)

[personal profile] curtains 2023-08-03 11:21 pm (UTC)(link)
I know these hardwoods are fancy, but wouldn't you prefer the bed to rest on?

[ Coaxing, teasing ... very lightly. ]
brightestmoon: (Default)

[personal profile] brightestmoon 2023-08-03 11:29 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Xiao Xingchen shakes his head a little. ] I'm alright. You need to rest more than I do.
curtains: (30)

[personal profile] curtains 2023-08-03 11:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Alright.

[ But first, he arranges the food haul on the floor nearby where he left the water so that Xingchen can be as comfortable as possible ... and drops a couple of pillows down too, all before settling on his right side again to alleviate the terrible dead-arm ache shooting through his back and chest. It's because of such distracting pain he can finally start to drift off again, uneasy though Xue Yang is. ]
brightestmoon: (Default)

[personal profile] brightestmoon 2023-08-03 11:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Xiao Xingchen isn't eager to go back to sleep, so instead he tries to meditate. It's always been a calming practice for him, something he'd often do whenever he struggled to fall asleep. It's not a proper substitute for sleep, but it works for a night or two in a row.

Now though, he finds it a lot more difficult than it's ever been before to relax enough to go into that meditative state. It's not exactly surprising, considering that the state of mind he's in. He keeps trying however, and eventually, he manages to sink into that trance-like state. It's nice, and comforting, like sinking into a hot bath or a warm embrace. It makes him think of his Shifu's mountain.

He remains like that for several hours. ]
nachocheese: (Default)

[personal profile] nachocheese 2023-08-03 11:43 pm (UTC)(link)
"And you said I couldn't know for sure that you'd actually do it," Nacho counters. Something fierce, something a little mean lights up inside of him.

It makes him hate himself, more than just slightly. It makes him feel a little sick.

He presses on ahead.

"So, start talking. Who are you, and why are you here?" Nacho says. "Nobody gets trapped in a situation like this without doing something." Nacho understands what it's like to be trapped, and he understands how people get here.
starlingroad: (MCU - Lighter smile)

[personal profile] starlingroad 2023-08-04 12:22 am (UTC)(link)
Intended to? ( Oh? Was she supposed to clean the eyes off? She looks up wide-eyed and confused at Thor. )

( Then America shrugs. The spirits seem good with it. )


America. You? ( She starts rummaging around to find a garlic bulb, long green and fuzzy and holds it up for the spirits and Thor. ) How about this?

( She's asking this time, just in case. )
starlingroad: (MCU - Concerned side-eye)

[personal profile] starlingroad 2023-08-04 12:30 am (UTC)(link)
[Well, damn.] You're brave.

[America stays wide eyed, her eyes darting from mirrors, back to Lan and the edge as he pokes certain spots. If it starts to crumble too much, ever, she's ready. She thinks, of course, she's ready to run the other direction, but her reflexes might have a surprise for her.]

But yeah. There's a lot of magic in this place. I'm not used to this much.
comfortably: (pic#16620399)

[personal profile] comfortably 2023-08-04 03:42 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, no, not at all.

[ There are so many of them who swarm him, and he gently tries to brush them away, seemingly not scared of them at all. But he does reprimand them: ]

Now, now, please, don't touch the coat, it's been in pristine condition for over a hundred years! Children!

--No, I'm just a book seller.

[ Not really even, he hasn't sold a book in over a hundred years; he collects them, more like. ]

You can't have my arm, either, or any part of me - my goodness, you all must be starving, here. Let me ladle the soup up, try not to frighten the living.
pepsifree: (pic#16613944)

[personal profile] pepsifree 2023-08-04 07:05 am (UTC)(link)
[ Tub Guy's really gotta stop being creepy. For a relatively non-malevolent dead dude, his voice makes the hairs on Marty's neck stand on end.

Remember what the lady said, he reminds himself stubbornly. He can't hurt you.

Thinking of chains, Marty turns from where he's opened up the cabinet beneath the sink. ]
So that guy I saw earlier was real... [ And, sure, admitting this out loud gives him goosebumps like crazy. But it feels important to acknowledge nevertheless. ]

I, uh... I thought I was seeing things earlier. You know how it gets when you're tired... [ Marty turns back to his work, finding the pipes rusty enough to finagle with. Hm. ]

Some guy was sayin' stuff about chains too, back in another room. That someone did it to him. [ A beat. ] Did y'see if Tub Guy had chains on, la-- miss?

[ "Miss" is definitely more polite than "lady". ]
Edited 2023-08-04 07:06 (UTC)
pepsifree: (pic#16613941)

[personal profile] pepsifree 2023-08-04 07:20 am (UTC)(link)
Gross and AWESOME. Marty is going to be totally disgusted and mildly horrified at the blood, and then really wanna help these poor dead dudes. It'll be nice to have Manouk's name in writing too 'cause otherwise he totally forgot the name Lisanther gave...

Here's to hoping someone else finds an incantation piece so he can get outta there! Thank you, mods!
bravelyrunsaway: (Default)

[personal profile] bravelyrunsaway 2023-08-04 07:37 am (UTC)(link)

Isn't that part of what the Merchant hopes we manage? Haven't seen it myself, but I hear stories. One felled in battle, one... given to a volcano? Storm take anyone willing to gamble with one of those.

bravelyrunsaway: (Default)

[personal profile] bravelyrunsaway 2023-08-04 07:42 am (UTC)(link)

( He makes a face that might be agreeing to hire ridiculous this is to hear, but that he doesn't doubt it. Know what degree of storm struck nonsense you might be drowning in at any time. )

Huh. How long ago was this offering you've got your noseless hounds hunting after?

( The Long Long Pause before the speaking means... he also pauses. )

Your aim. Those scrolls break what, love, the chains? Just for you, or for the whole lot of dead roaming around here too?

mashiara: icons from dreacons @ij (Default)

[personal profile] mashiara 2023-08-04 07:45 am (UTC)(link)

( Light spare her madmen. Even if magic here isn't tainted for males like it is back home, there's a certain retained quality of madness that fits too easily. Gentle them all, she imagines the White Tower would say. Only she doubts any such simple break from magic would apply, as she doubts this man is mad under anything but his own consequences. )

Right. Of course he did. Who put the shackles on you, wasn't that same Doxe, was it?

wifedup: (vii.)

[personal profile] wifedup 2023-08-04 12:03 pm (UTC)(link)
Wen. Wen Kexing.

( And because he is not so far gone with anxiety that he will not overlook a potential ally, he stops rooting around in one of the cabinets in favour of glancing back her way. )

And yours, young mistress?

( There is nothing in the first cabinet but a few dusty glass jars, Wen Kexing pulls one out just in case, holding it up to the dim light above his head. There are very few fingerprints on it, presumably they are all his own. He stares at it for a second anyway. ) You mentioned you've been here for months, were you brought by the same woman? Karsa, was it?
wifedup: (ix.)

[personal profile] wifedup 2023-08-04 12:19 pm (UTC)(link)
No, I was too busy being groped by statues. And not in the charming, flirtatious way I'd have liked, either.

( Is it a sore point for him? Absolutely. Fighting with Zhou Zishu is a little like a proxy for fucking Zhou Zishu and he enjoys it almost as much as he assumes he'd like the other. That he was forced into hiding by a careless imitation is going to leave him irritated for days. He can't even cajole the man himself over it.

But the flurry of activity to his side has him lifting his gaze and raising an eyebrow Licyn's way, opening his palm for the fragile bit of paper to drop into the cage of his fingers. He remains undecided, but it is interesting that the other man would give away such a bargaining chip so easily. A trap, maybe? He doesn't know. Wen Kexing hums, thoughtless, tucking the paper away somewhere safe before he turns to survey the kitchen again. The ghosts are agitated, imploring him back. He ignores them for the time being.
)

Are you not curious, then? ( To Licyn, voice easy-going. ) Perhaps the madness has something to do with the note.