westwhere | the house of manouk

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

[ She gets a similar feeling—that brush of a familiar someone—and looks up when he calls her name, her expression transforming from surprise to relief in an instant. While she'd been hoping he (or anyone else from her little family) hadn't been summoned too, she's still unreasonably glad to see him here. Her Jedi.

Now they can get out together. ]

Cal. [ She smiles, setting her reading aside and getting to her feet. As she starts crossing the room towards him, she can't help but tease: ] I should have known you would be here too. You always find a way to get yourself into trouble.

[ Then she stops, sobering—she knows that look on his face. ]

What is it?

[Seeing her is a comfort on its own, but hearing her voice - and being subjected to her teasing is its own relief. Cal smiles despite himself and takes a few steps to meet her halfway.]

Oh, you know. It's a gift.

[Finally, when they're close enough, he reaches for her hands. It's a touch he doesn't fear having any unfortunate effects and after his stay here where he's been cautious, it's nice to have something he knows he can trust.

But Merrin is also painfully observant sometimes and Cal isn't always the best at toning down his feelings. He shakes his head, not wanting to worry her too much.]

I'm okay. Just...this whole place feels wrong.

[ There's no hesitation in the way she takes his hands, pulling him a step closer so she can search his face. It's obvious to her that there's more bothering him, but she knows her Jedi is stubborn—but she can be just as stubborn if she wants. She'll pry it out of him eventually. ]

Yes, it reminds me of Kujet's tomb, in a way. [ Sithspit, she really hated that place. ] Something went wrong here. The spirits should be at rest.

[ But—and no offense to the spirits, but also full offense to them—more importantly... she squeezes his hands, warm and solid in her own, her expression softening. ]

I'm glad you're here.

[ It's tempting to undercut the sincerity with their normal banter, but she doesn't. She'd spent years travelling the galaxy on her own, mostly alone but not always lonely, and she could do it again if she needed to. But she doesn't want to—not anymore. ]

Edited 2023-07-27 19:11 (UTC)

[If anyone can wear Cal down it's Merrin. Not that he thinks he needs it right now. Compared to recent events back home, this isn't the worst situation he's been in. Really, aside from all the undead it could almost be pretty nice here. But maybe his standards are skewed. He hasn't had a normal life since the Clone Wars started.

Having Merrin near is always welcome, though, and Cal has half a mind to lean in and kiss her - still an incredible realization that this is something he can do since he's given himself permission. And even though he hasn't been here for very long, even a day away from his family can be lonely, more so when he has been forcibly separated.

So he does it. He leans in and kisses her, relishing the feel of her lips against his and almost instantly feeling right again. But while he could get lost in the moment, Cal remains aware enough that they're not exactly safe.

Then again, when are they ever?

He pulls away, but his voice is soft when he speaks, a tone reserved just for her.]

I'm always glad to see you, Merrin.

[He gives her hands a squeeze in turn before continuing.]

They seem to have a thing for necromancers here. And other irresponsible stuff. But a lot of raising the dead. Greez would have a fit.

[Merrin had been reading something when he found her and he glances over her shoulder to where she had been sitting.]

Did you find anything useful?

[ It's funny, it's as if she can see the moment he makes the decision to lean in to kiss her, and her heart sings. It still feels like a gift when he initiates, when he wants her as much as she's wanted him for—deremo, she doesn't want to admit how long.

Her half-smile is pressed against his mouth. The kiss is like coming home, or like turning her face towards the warm sun, and suddenly all Merrin wants is for all realities where pocket dimensions and waypoints and undead lords exist to sort themselves out. After everything she and Cal have been through recently, all the time in the galaxy isn't enough to savor this—that they're alive, that they're together, that he's hers.

So she stays close even as he pulls away, slipping a hand from his and bringing it up to cradle one side of his face. Her thumb traces his cheek, scraping against the scruff of his beard, the touch unwaveringly gentle.

His voice—the one that's just hers—seems to sink directly into the depths of her heart, and it takes her both a moment and a truly inordinate amount of willpower to continue the conversation, specters and bears be damned. ]

Sounds like home.

[ Her tone is wry—she means Dathomir. He knows. Her hand falls away from his cheek as she turns to follow his gaze over her shoulder, at the pages she'd abandoned earlier. ]

Not much. The rulers of a place called Taravast were obsessed with achieving immortality, it seems. [ Dryly: ] It's very repetitive.

What have you found?

[More and more often Cal wonders at his stubbornness to have kept Merrin almost at arm's length. Of course, he knows why, but during moments like this, when they're so close and able to touch each other so freely, he doesn't know how he lasted so long. But he did and they're here and she's here and he's so grateful the Force brought them together, even if it was pretty rocky at first.

But he can't bask in their reunion for too long, as much as he would like. This is still a messed-up place and they should understand as much of it as possible while they can.]

Well, I wouldn't eat anything they're cooking up in the kitchen. I'm not sure it would agree with either of our physiologies. And some stone slabs called me treacherous, so it's been a typical day.

[He drops his more playful tone next, pondering what any of this could mean.]

Immortality, huh. It's like they do everything in their power on this planet to make death as non-permanent as possible. I can understand their fear of it. The finality. The mystery of what comes after, if anything.

[ Seriously, Merrin wonders at Cal's stubbornness too. As well as her own, to tell the truth, as determined as she was to not see her feelings for him back before the crew split up. But it must have been for the best—she'd needed to see the galaxy she never knew, to find herself among all the people she met, in order to know that Cal was her home all along. ]

They must have seen your wanted posters. [ The stone slabs, that is. And no, she'll never stop teasing him about his wanted posters.

As reluctant as she is to do it, she steps away from him, moving to pick up the sheaf of papers she'd been reading. But there's nothing really new in them, even as she thumbs through them for any last tidbits. ]

Perhaps they should become Nightsisters. There is no mystery there. [ A beat. ] Though there is no returning.

[ Something has been bothering her this entire time, and she finally gives voice to it now, turning towards Cal and asking: ] Where is Beedee?

the house of manouk | test drive meme

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