westwhere | the house of manouk

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

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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…

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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 —

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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.

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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!

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( A pause in his step, unnatural stillness settling over his shoulders. He can be forgiven, he thinks, for the way his temper ebbs and flows, anger and fear and strange exhaustion all warring at once within him. Wen Kexing is usually better at keeping his charming façade up, but the narrow-eyed way he watches Wei Wuxian for a second belies a little of the real person under his skin. )

Before?

( Tone merely questioning. )

What do you mean, before?

( What does this place know of him, that Wen Kexing has not willingly given? How did it know to use that face against him? What does any of it mean? )

Sometimes a jailor does not look like a jailor.

( He is master of Ghost Valley, after all, and yet it's bars cage him in from all angles. Zhou Zishu was Tian Chaung's leader too, and he threw himself from the Window to escape. Appearances are not always what they seem, and the kindness of a benefactor can be laced with poison. And so he has no allegiance to this Karsa, in fact, he had only gone along with her request because there had been no other alternative. His trust is a near depleted thing, and he would be foolish to give it.

But it is interesting that people still offer faith. )

Sometimes a cell does not look like a cell.

( A smile, sharp edged. The cooking has well been abandoned now, Wen Kexing reaching to turn off the heat before pulling his fan free from his other sleeve to wave it lazily in front of his face. His expression gives away nothing behind it. ) How long have you been a part of this?

Without you? Tch. If my Ah-Xiang thinks she can marry her vapid little boy while I'm otherwise engaged I'll pull her ear off.

( You don't just deny brothers the opportunity to see you wed, the nerve of some people. Wen Kexing abandons the first cupboard and moves onto the next, sweeping aside cobwebs to reach for more small, metal tins that rest inside. Within one he finds tea and he shows Lan Xichen with a small smile, triumphant even if that's not exactly what they're looking for. All the while he keeps his expression polite, interested, head tipped the other man's way as though he's paying rapt attention. )

A bath-house? Lucky. I hope it's better than the one here. The ghost in there is much more maudlin than the ones here. ( Tea dropped to the counter, more treasures unearthed. ) Their organisation skills could use some work though.

( Somehow, that is even worse.

Wen Kexing's shoulders draw a hard line, bones sharp. He thinks once more of the knife he has spirited away, of the fan in his sleeve, of the power in his palms. ... He thinks of Zhou Zishu, who despairs when Wen Kexing kills the only source of answers.

Very carefully, he takes a breath. )

Who do you work for?

( An educated assumption, even if it turns out to be wrong. There are many men after the pair of them, and they do not make their association a secret. At least, Wen Kexing does not, heart bleeding on his sleeve and his giddy, childish need to bother, to see and be seen. They go hand in hand, by now. He does not look at Lan Wangji, but the stillness means he's aware. A viper coiled. )

You say you know me, then you should know I am not a man to be toyed with. If any of you have touched him I will flay the skin from your bones while you still stand. ( Could he be here, hidden away from Wen Kexing's questing gaze? No, he'd know, wouldn't he? He looks up then, eyes flat and flinted. ) Am I clear?

New identites?

( The more he knows of this place, the more questions he has. It doesn't help the lingering headache, the sickness rolling in his belly. It doesn't help his fury either. He does not want to be here, has not asked for any of this, and while he is no stranger to having his hand forced that he cannot yet snap back is a struggle. )

How kind.

( Said like a man who doesn't think it's very kind at all. )

I met a man who told me the people of this world are often at war. Wars need soldiers. Convenient then that we are here.

[ It's the first time anyone has looked at the situation from his point of view, regarding mising Wangji's wedding, and his eyes soften on Wen Kexing gratefully. ]

Wangji married his zhiji from home, they are a good match. I won't speak against their choices when his husband has kept him safe in my absence.

[ None of the traditions or rules that he was taught to uphold matter to Wei Wuxian, and arguing will get Xichen absolutely nowhere as has already been established by their misunderstanding over a lack of consummation technically voiding their union in the eyes of ... everyone else back home, zhiji status aside. He wishes he had never pointed that out in an attempt to be helpful.

The tin of tea brightens his expression considerably. ]

If we return to Yancai, you are more than welcome to use the bath-house. I hope you will visit. [ Sweeping back one of his sleeves, he leans in to help sort through the little pots and tins remaining, finding a pot of coffee. ] Ah, not more of this ...

Outstanding.

[ She edges back toward the sleeping area, keeping an eye out for the bear's return. There's no sign of it, but then, there wasn't any sign of it earlier, either. ]

So you've been here a while? Gotta say, I don't love what you've done with the place.

All those with ears.

Not yet they don't. Five doesn't take what he says at face value after he refuses to explain what happened with the hounds, but his dwindling patience is already spent.

He barely suppresses his eyes rolling as he pushes past him, and the 'harmless' ghosts, to see whatever lies ahead. Scrolls, tokens, magical organs, what's the difference? If he happens to run into a running sink, he can't say he won't stop to splash some water on his face — that dust really is everywhere.

No looking behind to see if Licyn decides to follow or decides he'd rather take a nap. It's not his responsibility to keep him out of trouble.

Sweet, a sword!

[ Look, no matter how dumb this situation is, she's never going to be against a sword. She kicks aside the still-twitching skeletal fingers on the ground and bends down to retrieve the blade. It feels weird in her hand, but how hard can it be to use a sword? It has a pointy end and sharp edges, and she feels better now that she's armed, regardless of how skilled she is with said armament. Weaponry. Whatever.

She hefts the sword and wanders over to the other side of the room from her companion, studying the crumbling stone of the walls and the strange, carved decorations. ]

It's never so easy as to just go "hey, look, that coin is glowing and there's a big PICK ME UP sign over it," is it?

Well, that sounds hellish.

[ Is this revenge for sending so many revenants back to Hell, to burn and writhe and suffer until she gets her own ticket punched? Or did she maybe die on that cliffside, and she's now joined the army of revs in the Down Under? ]

Like... here, here? Because even this place would probably get old after a while.

[ Xiao Xingchen frowns ever so slightly. Just as the other man says that, he can feel the features of the statue he's touching change. He quickly pulls his hands away. If there is any chance of him recognizing someone's features that way... he doesn't want to know who's face the statue would show him. ]

I am fine. [ He says curtly, wincing slightly at himself at how rude his tone of voice sounds. He, who is usually so unfailingly polite. But then, that had been the old Xiao Xingchen. Still, he tries to soften his tone as he clarifies: ] I'm a cultivator. My other senses are sharp. But... tell me, do you know what this place is?

Edited 2023-08-07 15:14 (UTC)

[ He gives it some consideration, lips twitching. Any time Wangji has surprised him (unpleasantly, on occasion) it was not through deviousness. ]

In that arena, I cannot say so.

[ At most, he expected that to at least make it more difficult for the statue to hurt them, so they could figure out where to go from here. When it just stops, he at first glances over at Jacob, because part of him expects that the man's going to want to keep going until the thing is in bits and pieces.

Luckily, that's not what happens. As soon as Jacob says they should go, he keeps moving through the grounds. It would be nice to go back the way they came, somewhere he's at least somewhat familiar with, but they won't get out of here that way. So, onwards it is. ]

[ Some aid wouldn't be unwelcome, of course, but Ratonhnhaké:ton is already working on freeing himself from the vines trying to drag him into the wall. His feet dig into the ground to resist the pull itself, teeth gritted together as he pulls against them. At the same time, one hand is swinging his tomahawk at the vines, hacking through them with only moderate success. ]

[ Any new room that Ratonhnhaké:ton enters, he enters very carefully. First, he stops outside the door to listen and smell. It's not difficult to tell this one is a kitchen, but that doesn't mean it's harmless. When a few seconds has only offered the sound of utensils and the like, and the singing, he finally opens the door.

Very carefully. Enough to peek inside, and all he sees is one white living human and a whole lot of spirits. With a blink, he refocuses his vision in time for his eyes to meet hers.

Won't let her stop? He throws a look around, noting how focused everyone else is on their tasks. If she just kept singing while walking out, they probably wouldn't notice, and so he carefully gestures with one hand for her to come to the door. ]

( Shivered, his posture seems fragile and child-like, a flock of birds startled. He does not shrug off the burdened weight of Wei Ying's coalesced interest, the hand on his silks, its print of heat and imprecations.

Around them, the old bones of the bathroom stretch and crack, and the spirit is a strange, immutable fixture — drawn to Wei Ying, like a mouse to the serpent's maws, the white of his eyes in rapture. They are two in this.

Lan Wangji's touch floats and chases his husband's wrist — shrivels — pulls away. )

...it would be cruel to harm him.

( It strikes him, all at once, like an axe's blade: Wei Ying can. May. Given opportunity, will. Red tints his gaze, blinding. He is man and tomb and Yiling, foremost a necromancer. There are spirits he housed, spirits he led, spirits he dispelled.

Teeth in his mouth are bright sheets of terror. The Patriarch cannibalizes all the ghosts who presume their claim to hurt exceeds his own. Feasts on their marrow. )

Be good to him. A kindness. ( To Lan Wangji, if not the spirit. )

Apologies. ( Instinct, closely bred. The bow of his back is tight, practical, inevitable. ) I may struggle to improve.

( In this, absent teaching, knowledge, interest, appetite and example. Manipulation and coy politics are not the sword, right in his hand, or music, telltale heart's yearning.

His hand holds out for the stone piece, shivered. )

May I know my accuser?

( Would he have? He thinks once more, biding his time, in the way of every man who weighs and measures and considers questions, never undeserving of energy. In truth, what answer best applies here?

He nods, softened: ) Did not.

( But then, absently, taut: ) We flocked gardens where the man creeps. Crawls. May have heard unbidden.

( There is nothing to say that the elder did not learn their pursuits and purpose, even without Lan Wangji's confession to guide him. A bright, pale, pretty place: perfect for betrayals. )

Not when I've been awake for ... [ Lockwood stalled briefly as he realized his sense of time was probably all skewed. ] either three days or five years; I've lost track.

Again, let me be clear. [ He's being a bit of a dickhead, but he's tired and on his back-foot. Things that make Lockwood exceptionally difficult. ] I'm not the one you should be asking. I've only just arrived. You want answers? Look for a man named Wrath, or The Doctor. Perhaps Hermione, or Clara.

All I can tell you is this. The bear does not appear to be following us. This place is considered a jail for necromancers. I expect the bear is some sort of jailor. [ Whether Lockwood's assumption about that last bit was true, or even partially true, was up in the air. But he was certain about the first bit. ]

You are asking to rebel against him?

[ It occurs to him this might be exactly why they don't get along. Five is offended by the mere idea of wasting time, and Lan Wangji seems to enjoy dragging out every single answer he deems worthy to give. He's yet to decide if that's intentional or just a fundamental character flaw. ]

Then we better find them first. [ Not that a crazy old man is terribly threatening, but if it gets him moving. He gestures to the tablets. ] Unless you think there's something else buried in that pile.

Ah. ( Well, zhiji are a little different. Wen Kexing would have forced Zhou Zishu into bowing if he could, kick his knees out from under him or something. Instead they live in sin, Wen Kexing's secrets threatening to overwhelm them. Marriage might have been nice though. ) Still.

( Because the concept of zhiji aside, he thinks if Gu Xiang eloped and denied him the chance to see her in red he might do something drastic. Cry, maybe. He offers Lan Xichen an understanding little smile, still rifling. )

Siblings. They do what they want without care for their poor elder's hearts. ( And then his attention, pulled to the pot. ) What is that?

... You don't want to know.

[ Mind your step! cackle the animated skulls stuck in the walls, and Xue Yang certainly does; he grabs at Xingchen behind him. ]

Walk very close to me, there are spikes coming up through the holes in the floor.

[ He did very nearly beg Wangji to wear red and have another ceremony, it was disheartening to know he would never see such a sight for his didi. There's no point wallowing in what Xichen wants, though. He isn't so selfish as to make Wangji's marriage about him. ]

Coffee. [ The thoughtful look disappears with an annoyed frown as he passes the tin over. ] Boiled in water with milk, it will keep you awake until dawn. I know.

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the house of manouk | test drive meme

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