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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Xiao Xingchen stops when he hears the growl, half-expecting Xue Yang to let the dog attack him, but when that doesn't happen he keeps moving until his hand bumps into Xue Yang's legs.

He hasn't quite decided what to do yet, but hearing Xue Yang's shallow breathing makes that concern bubble back up. Just how badly injured is he? ]

Where are you hurt? [ He asks, trying to keep his voice even and detached, like he's a healer just looking over a patient. ]

[ Funny how a fake Xiao Xingchen can feel so real! This place really is amazing, shame he hates the decaying house with a vengeance. ]

Left lung.

[ Bichen went through his scapula and pierced bone before puncturing the top of his lung on the way out the front. An inch lower and his heart would have been shredded. Blood has soaked the entire front of his clothes, no bandages having been found or treatment taken ... unless some delicious cakes count. ]

[ Xiao Xingchen frowns a little and hesitantly puts his hands over the wound. There is a lot of blood. Xue Yang's robes feel completely soaked in it. Against his better judgement, Xiao Xingchen lets his healing energy start to sink into the wound. He hadn't been sure that he can still do this, but apparently dying hadn't robbed him of his spiritual powers. Well, that's something. ]

What happened? Was it the bear?

[ A scoff spits up some blood, dazed enough not to think too hard about how very real that healing energy is as it cools down the flames licking at his entire left side. ]

Hanguang-Jun. There was a fight with him, Wei Wuxian ... [ He smiles coldly, eyes untouched. ] And Song Lan.

[ Xiao Xingchen lets the healing energy sink in enough to stop the bleeding and begin to close the wound. He doesn't want to spend all of his qi though, and he can tell there is going to take a lot to fully mend this wound.

He stiffens when he hears his old friend's name, and his voice is low when he dares to ask: ] Zichen... what happened to him? [ His hands shake a little so he distracts himself by finally pulling the blindfold from his neck and using the clean parts to start cleaning off his face. ]

I don't know. I woke up here after that Lan bastard stabbed me.

[ He doesn't care what happened to Song Lan, he was becoming cumbersome anyway. Xue Yang watches Xiao Xingchen clean his face with the bandages. ]

It's all around your eyes. Underneath.

I'm sure you did nothing to deserve that.

[ Is that sarcasm? From Xiao Xingchen? Apparently!

He is disappointed that Xue Yang doesn't know what happened to Zichen though - if he's telling the truth, but Xiao Xingchen is sure that if something bad had happened to him (well, worse than being a fierce corpse), Xue Yang would've rubbed it in his face.

He huffs a little. ] I know. [ Almost petulantly, he starts cleaning around his sunken eyelids. ]

... Give me it. I can clean your face, I did it when you were dead.

[ And a few times afterwards when the coffin got damp and he had to move him to a new one. Not creepy behaviour at all. ]

[ Xiao Xingchen tenses at that. Yeah, that's not helping. ]

I'm fine. [ But his hands are still shaking and he's not doing a great job of cleaning off the blood - in some parts he's just smearing it around his face. ]

You're making a mess. Give it to me, don't be stubborn.

[ He sits up creakily, tugging on the bandage. ]

[ Xiao Xingchen wants to tug the bandage back, but he realizes that he's being childish. Reluctantly, he lets go and lets Xue Yang take the strip of fabric from him. ]

[ The only clean thing he has to hand is his spit, licking the cleaner end of the bandage before leaning in and ... it's weird, the warmth emanating from the chin he tilts to one side. That neck isn't frozen stiff anymore and Xue Yang does him this favour of gently swiping the blood off since he caused it. It's one thing he can mend.

Being this close to a living, breathing Xiao Xingchen (is he fake, after all?) is throwing him off. ]

That's better.

[ Xiao Xingchen shivers a bit when Xue Yang starts to clean his face off. There's both discomfort and a strange comfort in it at the same time.

Back then, Xue Yang had not had much of a sense of other people's personal space. He had seemed to constantly be in Xiao Xingchen's orbit, touching him with ease, and Xiao Xingchen had soaked it all up, not used to it. There had always been a polite sort of distance between him and Zichen, so he hadn't even realized how starved he had been of any sort of touch until he'd met Xue Yang in Yi City.

He realizes that he still sort of feels like that. ]

... Thank you.

[ With his face now clean, Xiao Xingchen reaches into his robes for a roll of fresh bandages to tie around his missing eyes. ]

Edited 2023-08-03 16:04 (UTC)

[ He automatically reaches for the new bandages, tapping him on the hand as he tosses the old ones to Bao for the demonic hound to chew (he likes blood, sweet boy). ]

Give that too.

[ Xiao Xingchen's hair is a mess in need of fingers to comb through it before the bandage goes on. It was never that wild and unruly in the coffin, it bothers Xue Yang to see it so flustered. ]

[ Xiao Xingchen hesitates, but he ends up handing the bandages to Xue Yang anyway. He glances to the side when he hears the dog chew on the old bandages, frowning just a little. ] Where did you find the dog?

[ That bandage is going to get terrifically tangled around all those bones. ]

A pack of them nearly attacked me like they did a bunch of other people, then instead they led me to an old guy who wanted my help in exchange for getting out of here. The dog stayed with me. You didn't need nostrils to smell the stink of that old geezer, it was thick in the air. Dog was probably sick of it too.

[ Hair smoothed and bandage tied, he holds his left arm close to keep it from straining his wounds any more. ]

He's called Bao, like a bun. I bet he was fat when he was alive because he's always eating.

[ Xiao Xingchen sits back once the new blindfold has been secured, letting out a shuddering sigh. ]

When he was alive? Is everything here... dead? [ He probably should've listened when he'd been talked to when first arriving here, huh? ]

He's a skeleton.

[ Xue Yang guides one of Xiao Xingchen's hands to Bao's hard head which is bouncing up and down as the hound "chews" the ribbon. ]

There are ghosts everywhere. I traded my blood in their soup for some food ... are you hungry?

[ He just can't mentally distinguish between what's real and what isn't right now, all he knows is that Xiao Xingchen isn't lying flat on a slab, unresponsive, and is asking him about the ghostly manor surrounding them after a bear tried to flatten Xue Yang. He doesn't have it in him to keep snarling when he missed him so much, for so long. ]

[ It's a completely bizarre situation. Xiao Xingchen would've continued to yell at Xue Yang if he hadn't started to feel so exhausted. And maybe, just maybe, some part of him has missed his little friend too. Missed their simple, but joyful life together.

He makes a face at that. What in the world...? ] Traded your blood...? [ Xiao Xingchen shakes his head. His stomach feels too unsettled, but his mouth is dry. ] Do you have any water?

No. I have a cake though, it's sticky.

[ His last honey mooncake, pulled from the other side of his robes where it's wrapped in a clean rag. He breaks off the bloodied spot from the edge, and offers it to Xingchen's hand. ]

You know I don't like sweet things.

[ But he takes the offered cake anyway. It's probably better than nothing. He doesn't know how to get food here... well, except, apparently, to trade blood for it. He takes a small bite. It's definitely too sweet for his liking, but he nibbles on it anyway. ] Thank you.

You want to go back to the kitchens and squeeze out another pint for the ghosts so you can get a savoury snack?

[ He's half-joking. ]

[ A startled laugh leaves Xiao Xingchen's lips. Apparently, some things haven't changed and he's still easy to get a laugh out of. ]

I don't think it would be good for either of us to lose any more blood...

[ His chest aches for another reason when he makes Xiao Xingchen laugh. Xue Yang was always good at that, it's so nostalgic ... ]

We both need to eat, let's go there anyway. Bao can scare the bastards off for us while we grab something quick. Besides, the bear might come back.

[ It had been part of what had made him so attached to his little friend. Song Lan, bless his heart, hadn't had much of a sense of humor. ]

Alright... [ He's unsure about going anywhere with Xue Yang, but he clearly knows more about this place than Xiao Xingchen does. Slowly, he stands up, legs still a little shaky, but not as bad as before. ]

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