the house of manouk | test drive meme

[groundrules]

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!

Comments

[lanclan]

[ Are they stealing? Maybe. He gives the reticent ghosts a grateful nod for their silence, feeling a little awkward at rooting around in their cupboards (but not by much given their imprisonment of Wen Kexing to do their morbid cooking). ]

It's a lot like Yunmeng back where I came from, a lake-city. Yancai has been going back in time [ yes, he really said that, look at his wry expression, ] since I arrived. At first it was dilapidated, then slowly became more prosperous. The dead were attacking on the night I found myself on a pier, waters overrun with bodies that needed to be ... dealt with.

Usually, it's very quiet. The entire realm has shifted formation many times, my brother tells me. Locations are not permanent. [ Musing on his spices, he adds, ] I will miss the bath-house when we move on. Hopefully this house will not become the new normal.

[blackscales]

Well I didn't do it alone if that's what you're implying.

[ He can work as part of a team! ... Sometimes! If he agrees with the team!

Anyway, the point is this isn't purely his fault. He turns their wrists a little, hoping a different angle might help? He thinks he's making progress, but... slowly. ]

How long have you been here? I presume Karsa has been in touch.

[ Given him whatever new communication trinket she's invented. He has some of Anduin's old things, of course. He'd kept them, just in case. Not for any sentimental reasons, just... practical ones. ]

[mustact]

[ There are no other statues moving and none chasing them, so although there are others around, he's not too concerned they'll do anything. At least, so long as they don't look at them. That seems to trigger whatever is going on with those things.

Instead, he focuses on Jacob, shifting his vision to show him shining yellow, then taking him in just as he is. British, from the sound and look of him. Definitely a capable fighter. And on his belt ... Is that the not the symbol of the Brotherhood? Smaller than his own, but still visible.

So he's not the only one. Not one of his own, though. Most likely from the British branch. ]

You're welcome. I am Connor.

[ But more importantly. ]

Did you see something on the statue?

[massrez]

They're trapped here. Just as we are.

[ Dead or not, they're people, and his heart quietly aches for the slow agony of lingering here in a state of limbo. He looks to Jacob again, expression calm but resolute. ]

Some may yet be willing. We won't know until we give them the chance.

[nothinglikefather]

[ For the moment, they may be relatively safe. Of course that is only for the moment and relatively. Jacob doubts that this place is safe at all, and it's unsafe in many unknown ways. It's difficult to face those challenges when you don't know anything. Is the floor stable? Are the plants likely to attack? Will the sky fall on their heads?

Best simply to keep his eyes open and his ears trained on anything potentially dangerous.

It's only now, without statues distracting them, he can give the man some more attention. Hed already noticed he was tall and broad, handsome and young, with dark straight hair. And the symbol of the Brotherhood on his clothes. That keeps his gaze for a moment more. ]

The face of a friend. Henry Green. You might know him. You're Indian, right?

[ of course its a very large country. But even so, most Assassins know of the others in their Branch, even if it's by name. ]

[massrez]

Lean back! As far as you can!

[ With the heavy two-handed sword off his back, Anduin tries to size up where the vines might be the most vulnerable. Then the blade comes high over his head, holding until the stranger can pull himself as far from the hedge as possible.

Steady. Just like he was taught. Focus.

The blade swings down, the sheer weight of the mighty weapon cleaving several vines in a single chop. Hopefully enough for the man to finish the job and wrench himself free from his current entanglement. ]

[mustact]

[ There's a few moments' pause, with a slight crease to his brow, as he tries to decipher that term. He definitely doesn't know a Henry Green, and while it's not unheard of for his people to take on English names - after all, he's one of them - the family name sort of makes that a little more unlikely. Then again, it could be someone like him, who has a colonist parent. Or Henry Green could be from India. Truthfully, he has no idea what an Indian from India looks like.

He's fairly certain that Jacob is probably from Great Britain, though. He doesn't look like an assassin from the Colonial Brotherhood.

Luckily, it's not difficult to offer an answer that might help clear it up. ]

I am Kanien'kehá:ka, or Mohawk. I do not know Henry Green.

[mustact]

[ That's an unfamiliar voice, but there are more vines than he can take care of easily and quickly and he's not about to refuse help. Doesn't matter if he's not certain of the plan; he leans back, even manages to take one more step to put further distance between himself and the wall. When the huge blade comes down, he only flinches a little.

With that, it's easy enough to pull back even further, and with one arm more or less free, he can quickly take out a a couple of more vines. They're still trying to keep his grip on him, but with the two of them, it doesn't take much longer.

And as soon as he's free, he immediately takes off further into the maze. Introductions can come in a moment, if the stranger chooses to follow him. ]

[wifedup]

( His investigative hands pause when Lan Xichen mentions going back in time, a slight blip of concentration before it's back. If his rooting around goes a little more frantic well, that's between him and the cupboards. ) Well, most places have their problems. ( Easy, conversational. ) You look more than capable.

Do you have a choice in it? The moving on?

[nothinglikefather]

[ Jacob is no expert. He's not from a place like this, and he's willing, at the moment, to let the young knight guide in this. Of course its always easy to do what attractive people ask of you.]

Alright, we'll give it a go.

[ And so saying he turns his attention back to the bath. What was it the knight had said? Oh yes...]

You know this place far better than us. We've been asked to find devices. Perhaps they can be used to help you too?

[ Especially if they are trapped, as the knight thinks.

And with that said, Jacib blinks and the woman in the bathtub is there again, translucent and terrifying. Jacob can only exclaim, not fightened but annoyed his sister might have been right.]

Well fuck!

[lanclan]

[ He looks capable? Ah, yes. He's had to expend some will-power over keeping ghosts at bay and walking the corridors of the house and storming gardens, Xichen supposes he looks much like any other accomplished cultivator. Inside, he's glad he found a few spices; highlight of the day. Or week. As well as meeting this young man. ]

I've only been here a few months, all I know is the lake-city. I had no choice in being thrust into this accursed house, however, so ... I will miss the home I made with my housemates, yes, but I have no especial attachment to the place itself. There are ... stronger ghosts, vengeful types, that I would rather leave behind for good.

[wifedup]

Ah, so it's not just this house that has some ghostly accompaniments?

( It's actually almost funny. If Wen Kexing weren't currently trying his hardest to keep a hold of his sanity he might be losing it. Well, what's the difference between drug men and these spirits? Not much at all in the grand scheme of things. )

It's not the building that's important. ( Because Lan Xichen seems almost ... sad, and Wen Kexing may not be the kindest of people but there's no reason for him to be cruel right now. ) If you are to move, or if they keep you here, those people you know will presumably be too, yes? So it will start feeling the same eventually. ( Cheerfully, another cupboard sorted through and Wen Kexing placing his hands on his hips. ) I wander, so I know these things. An inn can feel the same as a house, a hovel too, as long as you're not alone.

[nothinglikefather]

[ It's not in Jacob's nature to really be embarrassed and he certainly isn't over this. He made an assumption and it was wrong, thats the end of it. What does catch his attention is the word Mohawk. He knows that. Evie would have made the connection instantly, but it takes Jacob a little longer. ]

Oh, American?

[ Which instantly fills in a lot of gaps. Not India Indian at all. And with the civil war going on, of course a native man wouldn't know who Henry Green was. Or Jacob Frye.

But if he is part of the Brotherhood, that explains his skill with a weapon. ]

We can't all know each other I suppose. [ He nods at the Assassin symbol on Connor's clothes, and then at his own.] Do you think this is the Templar's work?

[lanclan]

Wen Kexing is a refreshingly positive young master.

[ Positive to the point of being aggressive about it, which makes Xichen smile. Everything said is true, even if it makes Xichen feel like a bruised, forgetful version of himself not to have had his heart insist upon all of it without the prompting. ]

As long as my brother is by my side, that is my priority. And our extended family.

[ Pretend he didn't pause before adding that on.

He flicks back his sleeves and reaches for a taller cupboard, bringing dried ingredients to his nose to sniff. Chamomile? Pleasant. He offers it to Wen Kexing, going on conversationally. ]

I was in seclusion before I came to this realm, it's very uplifting to meet such a buoyant soul as yourself.

[massrez]

[ If it is presumptuous, there's no bristling of ego on Anduin's part. All his new friend sees is a man in armor with a giant sword, and it's reasonable to assume someone fitting that description might lean towards forceful measures first.

He simply nods in understanding, before approaching a step closer. ]

We will not linger any longer here than we must. You have my word. But if there is a way you might be released from this...state.

[ It's as delicately as he can put the question, not out of fear but consideration for the trauma this woman must undoubtedly have gone through. Still is going through, truthfully. He watches her wavering for a moment as if in recollection.

I don't know, she replies. I am no sorceress or necromancer, or a woman possessed of any such high learning. I was only a maid, during the last of my living days — but a fine one, I reckon!

The answer brings a bittersweet smile to Anduin's lips, thinking for a moment of Wyll Benton, his own beloved servant now long passed from this world. Some of that fondness creeps into his voice unbidden. ]

I'm certain you must have been.

[wifedup]

Ah.

( Wen Kexing does not see the appeal of seclusion. With nothing and no one to take away his attention he would be left with only himself and well, -. Best not. He's already known as a lunatic now and he barely lets himself think about what monsters he holds within the cage of his mind. Best not. )

You'll get used to it. ( A pause, something thoughtful in the tilt of his head. ) Being human again. It just takes time.

[massrez]

It's impossible to tell. The passage of time here seems indeterminable.

[ Once again his gaze lifts to the sunless sky overhead. Not quite the perpetual sunset of the Isle, though not far off either. There's a wince as Wrathion suddenly tugs a little too far in one direction, before he shifts closer in an effort to relieve the discomfort. ]

But I did speak with her. The woman who wanted us to retrieve the tokens, yes?

[beitangmoran]

The visions are a power of mine. I've always had them.

[He's quick to follow even the silent instructions. He hasn't been a soldier for nothing, and while he's usually the one to lead, rank matters little here.]

Have you seen something else? The area didn't seem to have anything beyond some aggressive plants...

[lanclan]

Mm. Sometimes, I wonder if I ought to be a ghost too.

[ Asking Hua Cheng what it's like to be dead didn't make Xichen any less interested in how peaceful it will be when he dies, even if he isn't depressed to the level of wanting to speed the process. It sounds nice, to be so alone you stop existing, thinking ... feeling.

He slides a curious look at Wen Kexing, given his surprisingly compassionate, thoughtful wording. ]

You make it sounds like you were one, once.

[ A ghost. ]

[blackscales]

[ 'The woman'.

Wrathion hesitates, a twinge of sickly unease passing through him. Anduin wouldn't refer to someone they both knew well that way. Which can only mean one thing.

They're back to square one.

At least, he supposes, he has the advantage this time. Perhaps this could be an... opportunity, to do things better? Easier to think that way, rather than allow himself to dwell on everything that has been lost. ]

That's right. The sorceress who works for the Merchant.

[ He looks up at Anduin, pauses in his fiddling with the knife. His manner is... more reserved suddenly. ]

She explained some of this?

[ She usually does, if in a... brusque manner. ]

[wifedup]

( Lan Xichen is a little too close to the mark with that, but all he gets in response is a quick quirk of his mouth, and then an easy shrug of his shoulders, a wordless hum of sound. )

Nothing so terrible as that. I lived a sheltered youth.

( Certainly Qingya mountain was shielded, too far from the human world for any of it's benevolence to trickle through. This is what he does, lies with the barest truth. )

I don't think we'll find any more spice, but surely the little is better than none?

[lanclan]

Oh, this is more than enough! Thank you. [ Drawn back to their task, he gives his qiankun sleeve a shake and suppresses a smile; he can't feel the weight but it sounds like he has a little stash of glass jars in there. ] Especially for your help avoiding the poisons.

[ He inclines his head more politely, not quite a bow but showing real gratitude. ]

Shall I help you finish off the soup you were making? What's in it?

[wifedup]

( He laughs without meaning to, not cruelly - you can tell a privileged boy anything, but he's a little charmed. )

No, it was just off. You wouldn't want to make your friend ill now, would you? I didn't think so. And in the end it would have felt the same.

( The ruined substance he takes back over to the pot, pouring it in to a chorus of muttering noises from the ghosts. That done he removes the apron he'd borrowed and shakes out his sleeves again. )

I think I'm done. ( Back to Lan Xichen. ) Do you need to deal with them? ( The ghosts, he means. The muttering gets even more aggrieved. )

[starlingroad]

[There's a part of her that wants to tell him not to dare! But America sets her jaw, clenches her fist, then goes with:] I'll be sure to tell him to include you in that.

[Her hands dive back into the bedding then she pauses.... America pulls out a piece of parchment and reads it, confused. All thoughts of sassing Stephen escape her. She goes to him and reaches out to tug at his sleeve.]

Stephen, it's not a scroll. But it has a seal, like it might've been one.

[nachocheese]

"I want to know..."

Nacho holds his gaze steady.

"...how to free everybody here. The trapped spirits. The ghosts. You're, like, some big necromancer, right? So you'd know.

How do we get to free all the spirits?

And if I do let you go, I'd need to know you weren't gonna just run off and do more fucked up shit someplace else. You feel me?"