westwhere | the channeling

the channeling

THE CHANNELING

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WEALTH WHISPERS

Assignment: the Merchant fears that Matthias, alleged father of the undead Brotherhood, might be the ‘merchant’ who was due to receive dark water-infused grains by sea from the Hand. Chasing information, the Merchant routes party members towards the docks-side underworld district of Tibras, in the outskirts of Ephes. The Hand keeps grain warehouses nearby.

In Tibras, short and decayed houses are like parasitic growths toppling each other, plaster peels falling into rivulets of bloodshed. Tension thrives. Petrified, natives overwhelmingly number beggars, pleasure workers, crude bounty hunters and thieves, who look to cut throats or purse strings. Occasional bodies drift by the docks.

■ Just outside of Tibras is the abode of the merchants’ syndicate — a ring of warehouses, private clubs and houses of currency. Merchants here are protected via steep fees and travel freely. Inside the syndicate house, doorways are barred by inextinguishable living fire — which you can cross unharmed, if you rearrange the runes marked N, W, S, E on a nearby wall in a cardinal-point formation. You can also pretend to be a servant, a merchant or quality inspector to get to the Hand warehouses. Ask a clue.

Alternatively, the Merchant forewarns that a notable guest will join the syndicate for three nights: Captain Maximilian Hawk of the Dawn’s Reach Trade Company, which deals in magical artefacts. Hold him at knifepoint, seduce him, do your worst for knowledge!

■ By the entrance to Tibras is the shop of Apollonius, noted collector of supernatural artefacts and information broker. Crafty and sly, he will cooperate, in exchange for a pair of ‘eyes’ from the ghost Tykhe, who haunts the nearby anonymous burial grounds. Come midnight, Tykhe’s spirit — whose sight was gouged — appears and picks out and bewitches a pair of marbles, buttons or stones to act as her ‘eyes.’ With them in hand, she searches the graveyard for her dead sister, Cassandra. You can steal the orbs, or she’ll give them freely, if you escort her from tomb to tomb to reunite with the mute ghost of Cassandra. Return to Apollonius.

■ Deeper within Tibras is a gambling nest of sailors who were cursed by a scorned sea witch to assume the appearance of sea creatures. Led by the giant octopus Crassus, they charge protection fees from commercial merchant ships and even intimidate pirates, gleaning information from sailors and recovering drowned bodies. This illustrious group adores games of chance — as long as you can cover your losses.

You can decide or RNG how many tries it takes for your character to win — submit a finished thread to get a question! The higher the stakes, the better the information.

— a scantly informed junior goldfish throws dice. Lose, and you must share a highly embarrassing secret.

— a moderately informed catfish, offering Baccarat. Lose, and he steals your good luck for 24 hours.

— a composed, well-informed whale plays roulette. Lose, and you must share one of your most precious memories.

— a highly-knowledgeable shark, Aurelius Longus, plays a mean hand of poker. Lose, and he asks blood or a pledge to save his life one day.

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THE FLOORS

Senate leader Caius Justus exits his seclusion, ending weeks of prayer to convey the message of Ephes’ divine patron, the Chained God of chaos. And he says in a public speech:

Friends, Ephesians, countrymen…

”Friends, Ephesians, countrymen, lend me your ears. I come to speak for the Chained Father, not to praise him. The victory men reap lives after them; but cowardice is often buried with their bones. So let it be with Ephes. The noble Senate tells you, the Chained Father wishes only Ephes’ destruction. If it were so, it is a grievous fault, and grievously has the Father answered for it. Here, under leave of Messalina and the Senate – for Messalina is an honourable speaker; so they are all, all honourable speakers – come I to speak of the Chained Father’s wishes. He was my maker, faithful and just to us: but Messalina says, turn away from him. And Messalina is an honourable speaker. He has brought many territories under the heel of Ephes. In his name did the Hand rise: did this in the Chained Father seem unworthy? When now you weep asking empire, the Chained Father answers: tells you to be made of sterner stuff. Yet Messalina says the Father is unworthy. And Messalina is an honourable speaker. You all did see that I withdrew to his temple, where he spoke to me: Ephes, seize your path alone — was that unworthy? Yet Messalina says to turn away from him. And sure, Messalina is an honourable speak. I speak not to disprove what Messalina spoke, but here I am to speak what I do know: you are all children of Chaos, not without cause. What cause withholds you, then, to use the Hand yourselves? O, ambition! You have fled to brutish citadels. And men have lost their courage. Bear with me: my heart is in the temple, there with the Chained God, and I must pause and beg the Senate to vote against Messalina, til it comes back to me. ”

Returning to public life, Caius Justus advises the Senate to refuse Messalina’s proposal, but defers to a vote. Citing recent civil unrest, he imposes citadel-wide 10 p.m. curfews, bans congregations of more than eight people in the streets and sends the Hand to confiscate any visible weapons and to quiet or pre-empt unrest. Hand members — forced to present in large numbers — appear erratic, prone to violent outbursts and to taking out their anger on civilians. Hand leader Narula is excessively smug.

Newscasters are careful with their words, speeches decrying Messalina abound, and senators are‘escorted’ by Hand delegations, also for their protection. Caius Justus announces he will run again for Senate leadership — to begrudged murmurs among Senators, given his previous pledge to retire.

Assignment: lure Senators toward the position that the party supports. After Caius Justus’ return:

■ 51 Senators back Caius Justus to refuse Messalina’s proposal.

■ Maximus Faustus convinces 53 Senators to accept Messalina’s proposal

■ Caelius Silvanus persuades 47 Senators to vote to postpone a decision on Messalina’s proposal for another season.

Following the party’s previous interventions, Senators are open to considering Messalina’s cause. Many are skittish, fearing their careers or lives will end with disobeying Caius Justus. Optionally, party members previously assigned a political role might receive threats from Caius Justus’ supporters.

■ Persuade, bribe, threaten or blackmail a minor Senator to switch votes. Perhaps you can offer coin or rally supporters in the marketplace for their next election, or heal their donkey or get rid of that pesky boy mooning after their daughter. Or maybe prove their corruption streak, or place a polite knife at their throats. Hold the whole Senate floor hostage, if you want, of blockade Senators from entering the Senate on voting day!

■ Ask for a RNGed Senator if you want or submit threads of swaying votes. A final tally will be taken on 19 November

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INCENSE

Priests of the Chained God whisper that the god shows signs of awakening to trigger an apocalypse. Chained and warded twelve times to prevent the end of the world, the Chained God allegedly rests in the Halls of the Sleeper, in the underground belly of his main temple in Ephes. Above ground, the temple is silent, rife with milling priests, hummed prayers and cloying hallucinogenic incense that encourages lethargy. Access is unrestricted, but monitored.

To progress downstairs, you may need to convince guards that you are one of the groups of ferociously devout pilgrim worshippers, or a priest. Below, you feel overcome by creeping, paralysing dread.

■ You are haunted by sinister, saccharine voices murmuring intrusive thoughts only you hear, diminishing your worth and paranoically asking if your companion means you harm. You are more irritable and prone to violence.

■ The halls increasingly resemble narrow subterranean corridors with limited and overheated air reserves. You reach locked stone gates, covered in loose chains and crudely carved with the inscription, the Sleeper awakes. Instructions state the Chained God demands sacrifice and proof of chaos.

■ To enter the Sleeper’s Hall, instructions say, you must commit an act of betrayal, by: drawing your companion’s blood and smearing it over the inscription (lean into the corruption!), which prevents them from entering the halls with you; or chaining them to the door with the gate shackles, condemning them to watch as you enter; or pushing your companion away, verbally eviscerating or attacking them until they flee. With player approval, your character could get a sense of what theirs is emotionally or physically vulnerable to, then exploit it. Acts of betrayal cannot be faked.

■ The Sleeper’s Hall is narrow, nearly spherical and lit by thin rivers of flowing magma that cross cracked floors. Amid swelter, you hear the periodic gulps and quakes of stone trembling around you. The supernaturally sensitive feel the presence of great, if constrained power.

■ The black water previously associated with the undead also gushes from rifts in the ground. It has a cold, sinister aura.

■ Search the room for clues — and leave urgently, before corruption consumes you.

■ Towards the middle of the room is a large, nebulously shaped creature, fully fettered and covered in magical wards, chains and blood-painted runes. Anyone in the Chained God’s presence may feel overcome by emotional or physical agony, claustrophobia and bloodlust — but the divinity only speaks with the RNG winner.

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NOTES:

■ Some players have asked about potentially ~~stabbing~~ ousting Caius Justus and Narula in a coup — everyone can plot and participate in that, and a plotting post will go up on 16 November.

■ NPC inbox, if you need anyone!

■ QUESTIONS

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You've never been to Lambeth, I take it?

[Oh even wrapped up like that, there's something very recognisable about a well-educated English accent. Especially when surrounded by unfamiliar tones, in an unfamiliar and very un-English place.

He really didn't expect the peanut lady to be down in this end of town, but who is he to know what she likes to do when she isn't heckling senators?

The road isn't exactly clean, the cobbles are loose, the stains on them are a mix of salt-water residue and blood. Just like home. He offers her his arm, just in case.]

Where are you headed? Is there a merchant in charge of nut imports?

[ Ha, no - not been to Lambeth. ] I didn't go further down than Victoria Park, I'm afraid - but it has definitely changed since whenever you're thinking.

[ She hesitates for a moment, then takes his arm and looks around. ] Hah - no. I'm looking for a way into the grain warehouses. You know, the ones the Merchant mentioned?

I never go that far east. What's it like?

[ He should go and try to help the folks in that part of town. He knows there's just as many factories employing children and gangs as bad as the Blighters. But London is already almost too much for three assassins to take on by themselves.

But London is a long way away, and it might not even be the same city in the world she's from. It might even be better. Hell, he hopes it's better.

He's actually happy to have something here to think his teeth into.]

Oh those? I was on my way to have a little nose around. Fancy doubling up?

[ It would take too long to explain what it's like, without having the conversation about what point in time they are from, if from the same part at all. And, not to mean any disrespect, but Mr Frye does strike her as someone from the past. Her past anyway. ]

Strength in numbers, right? [ At the very least, she can avoid the brothels or being questioned by guards if she is here in company, right? ] Have you got any preference for direction?

[ Jacob notes the way she dodges the question, not even pretending to deflect it. Maybe thats for the best. She doesn't seem like a girl from his time, or if she is, she's more like Evie than he cares to think on. And if shes not from his time, who knows what London might well be like.

Best to leave it well alone.]

My preference is from the way they least expect, if truth be told. But I can sneak myself into Buckingham Palace, I don't know if you can do the same. Or are inclined to. So we could bluff our way in? In that case, front door is on the main Dock Road, not far from here.

[ She actually stops in the middle of the road, giving him a look. ] You can sneak your way into Buckhingham Palace?

[ She doesn't directly answer if she's the type of person who can sneak into places, mind you. The answer is yes, definitely, and she has done her fair share of breaking and entering in Akhurras since embarking (by force) on this journey. Books have been liberated. Merchant houses have been set on fire.

It's all long stories. Answer the question, Mr Frye. ] What kind of a Scotland Yard detective are you?

[ Jacob's expressive face cracks into a wide, easy grin.] You say that like it's hard.

[Maybe one day they can trade those stories. But there's work to do now, and alas it won't wait for them to tell tales of adventures either here or at home. Pity, because he'd like to hear about her experience with arson.

Instead, he looks offended at her suggestion that he's one of those flat-footed, incompetent arseholes.] We'll pretend you didn't say that, shall we? Do you want to go in the front, or in the back?

[ She opens her mouth to protest, then snaps it shut. It's true - it wouldn't be hard. Muffliato and a notice-me-not charm, Apparate right inside, and ask the Queen if she'd like to - what, have some tea?

She should not figure out if it is or isn't hard, right now. Not the time. The time instead is to break into the warehouses. ]

You're the expert here, aren't you? I'd say in the back, but since I've clearly offended - [Not an inspector, got it.] - you can lead.

[ Whereas for Jacob it was about having a disguise and a way in and once that was achieved, it was simple. The age before security systems really was a golden one. ]

And here I was letting the lady pick. [ He considers, briefly, and while he doesn't know anything about this girl, he can't assume she can climb buildings and potentially fight her way out of a situation like he can. So... ]

We try the front. If we can't talk our way in, we'll break in via the back. Say we're the sanitary inspectors. Surprise audit. Something like that. Always makes the buggers panic.

[All these tips are for sure going to come in handy, so she notes them down.

Now, listen - she may look like your prim and proper English young lady, but she is picking up a lot of hints from Mr Frye that he is possibly very much a criminal type. He know how to break in, how to swindle, how to act like someone else? Interesting.]

Or we could try the back and that way you don't get treated to front row seats to my inability to look authoritative? [Who's got two thumbs and can only manage bossy-know-it-all to friends, at best? This gal.]

It's fine, I can cloak us so we're not noticed.

[ Oh dear. He didn't know he was writing a How To book.

Still, at this point, it's clear she doesn't want to go in the front way, and ability aside, he did say he'd let her choose. ]

In the back it is. This way.

[ They're passing an alleyway. Its dark and even more depressing than the main street, but thankfully unoccupied presently. Its also got old crates and things piled up against the wall, which itself is crumbling and full of hand- and foot- holds. All in all, an excellent route to the roof.]

How good are you at climbing? We're going up. Less guards on rooftops, less casual witnesses.

The roof?

[So much for a backdoor. She looks up discreetly, craning her neck really quickly to see where two people might fit on the roof. It's not ideal - but it is what it is.

She unhooks her arm from around his and holds out her hand.] I can get us up there. Take my hand, and...try to clear your mind while this happens.

[Ah, she's one of those people that thinks when you say "back door" you mean that literally. Noted, it'll help keep communication clearer in future.]

Yes, the roof. They probably don't expect people to break in that way.

[She moves, and he expects her to say that it's a stupid idea, or, in the best scenario, to start climbing, but that isn't what happens. Instead she... says she can get them there? He's not sure exactly what she means. How else are they going to get up there, apart from climb? Jump?]

Right. What? How?

Magic. [She frowns for a moment.] Was that not - I'm sorry, I imagined you knew, it's hardly as if I keep it a secret.

[There have been cities and locations where she's been less conspicuous than in Ephes. She hasn't done one of her usual greetings to the network and mention of being a witch in a long time, come to think of it.

Jacob is going to think she's insane.]

Drat, uhm - hold on. Let's run over the quick version of this: hello, I'm Hermione Granger and I am a witch. This stick in my hand is a wand, and I use it to channel magic and do things like - [She points to the pavement where there's still a bit of blood spatter, and says:] Evanesco. [The blood disappears, one stone gleaming clean.] That.

Among many other things - now will you take my hand and empty your thoughts or do you want to climb up ahead and just meet me up on the roof?

Pull the other one, it's got bells on.

[Jacob says, a natural reaction to the sort of ridiculous claims he is used to hearing from the mentalists and the mediums in London, from the stupid stories Dickens Ghost Club believed. But they don't do it like this, quick and polite and to the point, like it's all a matter of fact, obvious to everyone who read today's copy of the Times.

He's not ready to accept it, despite everything he's seen here, when she does... something. Proves it, he supposes, pre-empting the request he might have made. It's hard to tell what as it's done so quickly, but the stick is waved in the direction of the cobbles and suddenly they're... clean? Could it be a trick? Something set up to make him believe? Like a floating table at a séance? If it is a trick, it's a bloody impressive one. And strange too.

Not that he has long to think, after the ultimatum, or offer, whatever it is, is delivered. And perhaps it's stupid, but he's intrigued. With a healthy dose of scepticism, of course.]

Let's try it your way, shall we? Are we going to fly up there?

[She pulls a face at that question - flying? No, not a chance.

Unfortunately for Jacob Frye, she doesn't have time to explain, because even though they're in a darkened alleyway, they're still loitering in a suspicious spot, and she starts hearing steps. Time to act.]

No. Somebody's coming.

[She claps her hand around his wrist, and swishes her wand with her right hand, hoping that he's not the type to throw up on landing.]

Sorry. [And with that, she Apparates them both all the way up to the rooftop.]

[ It's strange, but matter how many times he's dragged people into (or out of) trouble using the phrase "no time to explain", he still isn't comfortable when people do it to him.

But she is right, there isn't any time at all between her grabbing him and then the intense feeling of pressure, and then, suddenly, they're on the roof. It takes a split second, almost as long as it does to readjust his balance.]

What the bloody hell just happened?

[ Is he impressed? Despite the shock he finds that he is, actually, incredibly impressed. He'd still like an answer, but being able to just appear at the top of buildings could be very, very useful. Maybe that's what assassins do, in her world. Or maybe they have something even better. ]

[He gets a gold star for not throwing up, but she still shushes him curtly before dragging him down to kneel and most importantly duck.]

We're on the roof, not invisible, Jacob. Actually - [That's a good point. She puts out a quick Notice-Me-Not spell on both of them - still won't turn them invisible, but at least if they keep quiet, the guards down on street level won't ever look up.

Now that's sorted, she turns to him, pushing her palla off her head since it was honestly getting in the way.] I told you, magic. I'm a witch. You're clearly a criminal of some type - thief? Regardless, introductions made, now how do we get inside from the roof?"

[ He doesn't tend to throw up much. A lifetime of jumping off tall rooftops and stabbing people through the neck gives you a strong stomach.

Anyway, she's about to explain in hopefully more detail than "magic" when she's clearly distracted, and waves her stick around some more. Again, he has no idea what she's done or how she's done it, but he's giving up on fully understanding. ]

I'm not a thief, thank you. This way.

[ He is familiar enough with warehouses from home, so he leads her silently away from the point they arrived on, towards the far end of the building, making the balancing act look easy. And yes, if he peers over the edge there's a little wooden overhang, and a primative crane to pull the barrels to a second floor. Which has a wide, unglazed opening.]

That's where we go in.

[ That sounds like the kind of thing a thief would say. ] Neither am I. [ Case in point: she's only really stolen the Hufflepuff Cup from Gringotts, a handful of books from Ke-Waicai, a handful of skulls from a loathsome little merchant in Ke-Waihu (to give proper burial rights to them!), a handful of books from Serthica, a handful of tea leaves and coffee beans from the train, clothes from every location, and on one occasion mining equipment.

But she's not a thief, either.

Oh, Merlin, have I become a thief?!

She follows Jacob, who has started moving, shaking off that momentary epiphany in favour of breaking and entering. The height doesn't bother her as much as she expected it to - perhaps after riding on the back of dragons, broomsticks and phoenixes, she has been if not cured of her fear of heights then come to the conclusion that she's afraid of the lack of control when she flies. When she just tiptoes across the rooftops at night? It turns out, not so terrible.

She peers over the edge with him, then leans back again to not topple over the edge, out of balance.]

Some dashing feat of acrobatics, no doubt? I could've just unlocked a door for us, you know.

That's what I like to hear. Peanuts are a better business. Less likely to have you executed.

[It's a murmur, a secondary focus of his attention as he shifts his sight from the mundane, everything going grey as his Eagle Vision takes over. Guards are highlighted in red patrolling through rows of barrels, and yes, there are more stationed on the doors on the ground floor. But what he's looking for is an office. He can see it, outlined in gold. Any documents, any proof, will be there.]

Doors are guarded. Opening one will have the guards on us straight away. Best to be up here- they don't expect people coming in from the roof.

[And as for "acrobatics", it's not that showy. He nods towards the crane and goes up to it, bringing back the length of rope that had previously dangled over the edge. He wraps it around his waist, after all, if this goes wrong, he'd rather it not be tied to her.]

All aboard please, first stop Entryhatchton. Next stop: Office-on-Thames.

[She has full trust that her spell will keep them hidden enough from any guards below, but she still stands a good few steps away from the edge of the rooftop, because the truth is that she detests being up here. What if she falls? What if she slips and falls and can't Apparate herself to a solid surface immediately?

And then there's Jacob, moving easily along the tiles and fetching a rope from atop a crane, her eyebrows raising. Convenient.

She takes a step closer to the edge and reaches for him, with a mutter under her breath of:] I could've unlocked the door but okay.

[Clearly he knows what he's doing. She sucks in a breath, braces herself, and holds onto his shoulders.] Alright, let's - lets go.

[ Jacob has no fear of being seen- if he has to fight guards, he will do, but he'd rather she wasn't in the middle of it, just in case. After all, he doesn't know if she can fight, or how she can fight, with this "magic" as an unknown, he can't predict how it might go.

Which is another reason he doesn't want to go through the doors. Sure she can unlock doors, but then they have the patrols to deal with who are based around the doors, and he doesn't want to deal with that.

Just like she doesn't like to be on the roof. He can tell, even though she's really putting a brave face on it. But there's a stiffness to her limbs and a way her gaze goes to the edge of the roof, as if she's at risk of falling over it by standing still. But she's not spent most of her life up on rooftops. Apart from the whole witch aspect of her life, she's probably quite normal. Or maybe that is normal where she is from.

Either way, he tries not to make her worry more about the fact they're on a roof.]

That's the spirit. You're safe.

[He'll make sure of that. Once she's holding on, and he has an arm around her, he lets them slowly descend the ten or so feet down to the platform and then gestures to get against the wall by the opening in the wall meant for the barrels and bundles to pass through.]

Should be a pretty clear route through to the office, and hopefully that's where the evidence you need will be.

[She absolutely wouldn't have climbed down that rope on her own, so she is grateful for the assistance. Is she also holding on a little bit too tightly because she's looked down and seen the fall that would await if she - if they - should slip? Yes. But she'd be very grateful if they could completely ignore that moment of weakness, thanks.

With the ground - some sort of ground, albeit a narrow ledge of it - beneath her feet, Hermione lets him go and glues herself to the wall without needing further instruction. You're safe.

Ha. Hasn't been in years, but thanks.]

You're very stealthy - do you want to check ahead if the route is clear or...?

It's part of the job description.

[After all, an assassin who can't be stealthy when it's called for is a dead assassin.

He's far too familiar with the concept of not being safe, he's not been safe ever, all things considered. Not just because anything and everything wants to kill you if you're a Victorian (from the water up, it seems) but because of what he is, what his parents were.

But here and now, he has to use what he is to keep them safe, keep her from slipping off the ledge, and keep the guards away from them. Eagle Vision helps with that: he can see the guards on their patrol, currently facing away and proceeding down the rows of barrels. Up on this floor, there are only four, working in pairs. Right now, one is facing away from them heading down the room, but is close. The other is walking towards them but is at the other end of the dark warehouse.

They can do this. It's pretty easy, in comparison to some of the jobs he's done. Hermione is the unknown factor, and he keeps a hand just shy of her, to catch her if she stumbles. The ledge is, after all, not wide enough to comfortably linger on. Best move. ]

It's clear enough. We go in, quickly and quietly, to that first row of barrels. Duck down there, we check again on those two sets of guards. Try not to make any sound, alright?

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