the channeling

[groundrules]

THE CHANNELING

---

Image source.

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.

Image source.

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

Image source.

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.

Image source.

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

Comments

nami (opla)

[cartographie]

[ open & closed starts below. wildcards welcome or reach out via plurk or dm if you'd like to plot out something. ]

– long time no see (wealth whispers, ota)

[cartographie]

[ Getting people drunk and talking is easy here like it is back home. After finding out the finer points of the specter’s haunt from one loose-lipped tavern patron, she’s left bait for the spirit by way of two round smooth white stones left waiting inconspicuously on a windowsill on one of the side streets she’s been told the ghost will drift down.

Ever the burglar, Nami knows how to keep herself out of sight while she waits, able to keep the gasp that threatens caught in the back of her throat when the ghost actually appears, leaving her floored. It’s one thing to wait for a ghost, it’s another thing for that ghost to show up and be a ghost, rather than someone trying to pull a fast one in disguise. She would have believed the latter, but being hit with the former is a whole new level of weirdness, and suddenly the instructions she’s supposed to follow to get those stones back from the ghost and trade them seems a lot more spooky.

Why couldn’t it have been just a random eccentric in a very good costume?

She doesn’t want to, but Nami makes herself follow the ghost, keeping a careful distance through the entrance of the graveyard. The sight of someone else who seems to also be in pursuit of Tykhe is almost as startling as the spirit herself, and though it throws her enough to make her halt in her tracks, briefly letting Tykhe float ahead as she holds a finger to her lips, not daring to disrupt the ghost’s quiet. Instead, she waves the other person over, jerking her head in the direction Tykhe floated off in, in a wordless indication they should follow. Two heads are better than one, and hell - maybe company will make this whole ordeal less creepy. ]

[mashiara]

( These are not the night time vigils she expected to have: the dead were meant ot be dead, to stay that way, and to be woven back into the Wheel for their next iteration, and yet. What else has she learned in this world of death and distorted dreams given physical form? In this place where one cannot evade the cloying scent of the dying, the scent of decay, or of actual ghosts... and she grimaces, moving on quiet feet through a graveyard this night, thinking of the other ghosts, or what she would do if, perhaps, she had the ability. What she wouldn't do, likewise.

What she can't do, for the dead.

The sight of another person slipping between headstones, moving after the fumbling, sightless ghost, the invitation to close distance, sees her grimacing and changing direction, a rendezvous between them as Tykhe continues on, floating through tombstones, through small mausoleums, emerging from the far side with that same confused, searching air.

Low, a murmur to help keep it from carrying: )

Apollonius?

( If it's this one's reason for coming to this place at this time in pursuit of a ghost, and really, it wouldn't surprise her if it wasn't.

Of course there'd be multiple people wanting something from the dead. Isn't that the case everywhere in the darkness of this world? Isn't that what the senate argues over, day after day? Which dead, which horror, they'll believe gives them more than the next. )

[cartographie]

Yeah. [ Then, as her eyes travel from the woman in front of her towards the luminescent form of the ghost still weaving past the headstones. ] Can you believe this? Ghosts? [ Maybe she can. Nami is realizing people in their group come from all sorts of places with a host of perils all their own - and she thought pirates were bad.

There's not much time for small talk, waving the other woman to follow as she gets moving again, keeping her steps quick and quiet as she works to close some of the distance between them and Tykhe. ] Have you seen her sister anywhere? [ Nami hopes they just had to find a grave and lead the ghost there, but she's wondering if she's really going to be that lucky. ]

[mashiara]

( She grimaces, fingers twitching toward the end of her heavily braided hair. )

Before this world? No. Not as such.

( More practical realities, more physical horrors, Fades and the like were real enough. Ghosts didn't need to be. Had no place until this one, and here, they simply won't stop. Just... sad, most of them. The ones like this especially.

Nynaeve shakes her head, then shakes it again, to answer the question even while she stalks forward, a woman familiar with the hunt and considering its merits. )

Not yet. If she's here. Her eyes... that man should choke on his request, hasn't she suffered enough?

( Eyeless and seeking, endless night after night. Nynaeve can empathise with the unending need to find, to track down, to protect. Failing that, to at least try. )

[scrapgege]

(Xie Lian is.... not actually hiding very well. First, his robes are pure white, so that's pretty visible. And second, he just seemed prepared to stride towards the ghost as if it was just normal, and he actually looks a little surprised to be signaled to not make noise and come closer.]

... Is something wrong?

[cartographie]

[ That the lean stranger appears so at ease in the cemetery is curious enough, but when coupled with the robes, it presents an even odder picture - maybe he works here?

Spotting the pin puts that suspicion to bed, but still - she's trying her best not to tremble just seeing the disembodied figure of the woman drifting through the cemetery, and this guy looks like he's out for a walk in the park. It begs the question– ]

Are you...[ Namis gaze darts sideways towards the ghost before flicking back to the stranger, finally proceeding with her question. ] Do you know that lady?

[scrapgege]

... Not personally, no, but I thought we needed to ask her for her 'eyes', so I thought I'd just... ask?

[And yes, that apparently seems entirely logical to him, but then he remembers a thing.]

I take it you're not used to dealing with ghosts? They're really not all bad. At least, not all of them are. This one doesn't feel malicious.

– seventeen black or twenty-nine red (wealth whispers, ota)

[cartographie]

[ You can’t rig a game of roulette that easily, and given her limited means and the short notice, Nami can’t do anything but observe the wheel as others play, watching the numbers the wheel falls on. ]

It’s the easiest way. [ When another from their group sidles up beside her Nami just starts talking. She’s experienced enough games of chance to be able to share a little insight, and she’s caught a few looks from some of the others that suggest not everyone’s dived into their local gambling hall. If they’re all supposed to be outsiders in a strange world (though honestly, armed, out-of-shape fishmen in suits aren’t that strange to Nami), then nobody should end up in dire straights. ]

Watch about thirty games and see which numbers win the most, then, play those numbers.

[ Not exactly a mystical secret, but it’s also not a bad place for someone to start. The wheel she’s been watching for a time now stops, and Nami gives a resolute nod when the winning number is announced, turning to the person beside her. ] Come on, we need information, don’t we?

[serio]

( did he mean to come this way? no. but the sea creatures caught his attention and so did the orange-haired navigator who's standing next to the roulette table, looking intent on making a gamble. hm. zoro sidles up to nami, curious to see what's up. )

Thirty games? ( that seems like a lot. ) I'm gonna need a drink. ( before he can even finish that sentence, a bottled cocktail is placed in his hand by some random person and he smirks, immediately taking a sip from it. this has been happening a lot lately -- him, just being handed a drink whenever he wants one, and nope, he's not even gonna question it. good things are meant to be appreciated, and that's that. zoro offers nami a drink from his bottle. it's rum punch. )

Any relation to Arlong? ( he nods at the whale in a suit, wondering if the reason nami's here has less to do with the gambling and more to do with her own curiosity about these guys. whatever it is, he's definitely going to stick around and make sure she doesn't get into too much trouble. the thing is their plans haven't changed. being trapped in this world is a mere a stopover. they'll be heading to the grand line again soon, so it's his job to make sure everyone stays safe. )

[cartographie]

[ Squaring her shoulders at the sound of that familiar voice, Nami bristles, not quite over the way they parted company when they first arrived in Ephes. Her lips purse, scrunching back in a disagreeable scowl before the motion of the bottle in his hand as he offers it catches her eye and draws her glare down from his face in profile to the drink in his hand. ] I've already been watching. [ Nami mutters, her tone incredibly pointed, before reaching for the bottle and taking a swig - then another, following Zoro's question about Arlong. ]

Can't you get these people to bring you anything stronger? [ Her eyes narrow, passing the bottle back before she looks at the fishmen assembled at the tables. ] Don't know, hope not. Either way, the sooner we get what we need and get out, the happier I'll be, so. [ Nami turns back to Zoro, raising her eyebrows at him as she tips her head towards the gambling tables, taking a few steps away and hoping he follows. She doesn't think these guys are related to the fishmen at Arlong Park, but it doesn't mean she wants to deal with them by herself, either. ]

[serio]

( her scowl and that glare goes unnoticed. sorta. sure, they'd parted ways in a less than ideal manner, with him not apologizing about what he'd said to her and her walking away and him not following after, but he figures nami glaring at him today is just standard orange-haired girl behavior. she's pretty feisty. like telling him off about the safe, scolding him about that leak on the ship, that argument they had after being captured by buggy, that other big fight about his duel to the death with mihawk -- it's a whole list. )

Mm. Happy. ( it's a good thing he's not getting anything stronger than a cocktail because he's already had a lot of drinks handed to him all day. zoro might just be a little buzzed. when she heads off to the gambling tables, this time, he follows along, sort of dutifully, a hand resting on his trusty sword as he moves to stand beside her. )

Game of chance. You feeling lucky or something? ( whale guy seems to have a thing for collecting information about people. he's not sure he likes that. )

don't tell him :' (

[downswing]

( Like any fine man who decisively earns, but notably does not utilise his salt, Lan Wangji heeds instruction.

She speaks it plainly, within the narrow jurisdiction of that which even a perfect neophyte, veteran of slow nictation and careful, feline tips of the head, can hope to achieve. Count to thirty. Watch, as the whale's webbed hand flinches and rolls over the great, chunky plate, spinning. Take inventory, when red glistens, stopped, under candle light, and what numbers win final position.

At first, he thinks it a matter of chance: there is no art to this, no skill, no periodicity. Only the whale, turning the... plate? 'Roulette.' In jagged rotations. Then, it strikes him: as with the sword, there is a logical undercurrent to where the little trinket lands: how the arc of the whale's wrist bone juts when he applies force to the turn, versus lazily swings it. The exact limitation of how far the wheel will go, what range that creates and the strength with which he tosses the missile — the ball — and how it ricochets after.

It emerges that war and the roulette table share a great deal in common. Lingered by the table, half sat and half looming, he murmurs: )

The wheel, spun a full circle and nearly 25 positions after every soft spin. Two soft spins of a full circle and five, eight positions in between.

( It... is not colour and number. But.

...ah. Wait. ) Is this... cheating?

[cartographie]

Cheating? What? [ It would be the guy in the flowing pale robes to have morality hard-baked into him, wouldn't it? Nami breathes a sigh, silently hoping this isn't indicative of how the rest of her luck is going to shape out that night. ] If it were cheating they wouldn't let anyone watch the board, would they? Cheating means we affect the outcome of what happens on the wheel - and I wish we were cheating, it'd be easier, but we– [ She gestures between the two of them. ] Are observing, and using those observations to our advantage.

[ It's not entirely bullshit either. Watching where the ball lands on the wheel for a while before placing a bet is just common sense as Nami sees it, though - maybe this guy takes a harder approach to his games of roulette. ]

Eleven, three, five, twenty. [ She looks at the man and nods before heading to the table to place her bet, on five - because she loves her crew. ]

[reparo]

[She notices the pin first and foremost, and the fact that she doesn't know who this woman is. It is starting to become more common to meet new travellers while already immersed in fighting, or sleuthing. This will be the first time in a gambling den, however.

At least it isn't wizard's chess.] Oh - yes, that would make more sense. [She - the unknown lady - is trying to figure out how to cheat! Hermione sticks one hand inside her pocket to feel for her wand (it could be relatively easy, maybe, to spell the roulette to land on the right number, if it's going to miss by one - tops two). Just in case.

They do need information.]

Losers share a memory - wait, is this meant to be a memory you forget for losing, or are we talking about shared custody?

[cartographie]

Shared custody? [ Both an answer and a question. Like for a prisoner or something? That's how Nami contextualizes it, rolling her shoulders in a small shrug. ]

Do you want to try? I think I figured out a few numbers worth betting on. [ No telling if the house is going to take issue with her methods or not but - Nami would swear there aren't any signs telling her she can't - if her claims about it being a legitimate strategy don't work out, anyway.

Can't win if you don't play though, right? ]

– what have i become, my sweetest friend (incense, for luffy)

[cartographie]

[ ’Nami, you know it’s only a matter of time before you end up dead, stuck in this shithole’ Whispers a voice that’s alarmingly close to Arlong at his most coaxing. ’You were better off back home. You could make that hundred million berry back. It’s better than being here.’ Nami bristles against the voice in her head, her shoulders tensing as she moves to walk closer to Luffy, her hands balling into loose fists like she means to rail against a sound that can’t possibly be there.

’You don’t know where you are, Nami.’

It’s the sense of powerlessness that weighs the heaviest and makes even the generally fortifying presence of Luffy beside her feel diminished - a notion that doesn’t stop her from reaching for his hand when the underground corridor they’ve been wandering down narrows again, making the heat coming up from below - from where she imagines they’ll eventually have to go - take on a new level of smothering. ]

This place is creepy. [ To say the absolute least - as if the way it’s clear she’s trying too hard to sound unshaken while clutching his hand like she means to anchor herself to him wasn’t a big enough indication.

’You don’t know where you are.’ Repeats the voice in her head, saccharine and smug. ]

[bigsmile]

( It was easy enough to convince the guards to let them past, only by virtue of Luffy keeping his mouth shut and letting Nami do the talking. It wouldn't be the first time they'd done this and undoubtedly wouldn't be the last. Apparently they're "Dropout" Pilgrims if Luffy understands it right (he doesn't) and he follows Nami, trying to take in his surroundings all at once.

It looked like some kind of underground tunnel and Luffy marvels in how their footsteps echo throughout, unaware that Nami is hearing something completely different. They have to check in on some old God that's going to end the world when it wakes up and Luffy knows that's going to be an event. How did someone stop something from waking up, let alone a God? And what is a God in this place even meant to look like?

Luffy snaps out of his thoughts as a hand seeks his and he gives it a reassuring squeeze, noticing how warm and oppressive the air is beginning to feel. )

Just a bit. You'd think a God would have something better.

[cartographie]

You don't hear anything, right, Luffy? [ The more she uses her voice the stronger it starts to sound, which suits Nami just fine. There's something so heavy about this environment. Just being here is enough to have her grasping at straws and looking for a way to regain her footing, however superficially. 'What would he hear, Nami? He was born lucky. Nothing's coming for him in the shadows. You're on your own.' And she knows it isn't true, having seen Garp stalk after him firsthand. Things like that don't happen to a person who doesn't have a single skeleton in their closet, but something about that voice.

She hates it, but, at the same time, not everything it tells her feels completely off.

Luffy squeezes her hand and she steps to the side, walking even closer to him as the walls around them stretch up into the darkness, fathomless and eerily claustrophobic at the same time. ] Do you think it's really a god down there?

i want to break free (wealth whispers)

[silverneedles]

[ Spying, breaking and entering, stealthy games to break into places to gain knowledge: those are not Wen Qing's forte. But she did it once, in service to a much less noble cause. And Wen Qing is capable and— dare she say it— restless. [ read: bored ] There is knowledge needed, a mystery to solve.

And so, the night finds her sneaking around the merchant's syndicate, her footsteps quiet as she seeks a way into one of the houses. Distasteful work, subterfuge; there was a lack of subtlety to her discoveries in Cloud Recesses. But the ability to move silently quickly was learned at her uncle's knee, and it comes to great advantage here. She blends in, cloak pulled over her head, and manages to sneak inside with little concern. A breath of relief, exhaled a little too sharply, and she hears a rustle down the hall. Quickly jerking back into a shadowed corner, she encounters the last thing she expects: a warm body.

She jumps and gasps and doesn't fall backward but only because she grips Nami's arm, stumbling forward and nearly stepping on her toes. ]

[cartographie]

[ Nami sucks in a startled breath, flattening herself against the wall as the form of another, shorter, woman collides with hers, clasping hold of Nami's arm for purchase. Bringing her arm up and instinctively hugging the other woman to her, Nami peers over her shoulder, eyes wide as she tries to figure out what's coming.

The rustling returns and a click of a distant door follows, as do footsteps headed in their direction. Nami lets Wen Qing go, finally realizing she is hanging onto a stranger, before reaching into her rucksack and pulling out two of her gold mice.

Crouching, she lets the pair run off her hand and down the hall towards the footsteps, straightening up to look at the other woman with a nod. ]

This way. [ Nami whispers. ] There should be a library or something down this hall. [ She assumes, after stumbling into another room aimed at household recreation a few moments before running into the other woman. ]

[silverneedles]

[ Oh. She did not expect to be hauled up against someone, or hugged to them, though it is a good way to keep her from falling. Nami is warm, and soothing in the chill, and Wen Qing enjoys the moment of being hugged before Nami lets ago, and she remembers herself. A step back, but not too far, before she hears the rustling, and then she freezes.

The mice are a good diversion, it seems, because whoever was walking towards them stops, and then Nami's pointing her toward another room. ]

I'm trying to find the merchant, Maximilian Hawk, but we should stop in the library. [ Wen Qing is sure it'll have something useful, even if it's just books she can share among her friends. ] After you.

[ They'll have to be quiet when moving down the hall, but that's hardly a problem. ]

wealth whispers (wildcard).

[valeas]

( An underworld district for an underworld queen.

Emilia has several scores to settle with Matthias, and they've only mounted since he last dared to approach Kamala. It has her walking through the living fire, runes left untouched. The flames linger on her skin as if in greeting, before they skitter away.

She'd listened to the story of this wretched sea witch with a touch of rue on her lips, and perhaps some amusement. Once, long ago, she was vindictiveness made flesh: the understanding space must be made for her when justice has been so thoroughly undermined.

Now she listens to the sailors in the gambling den while she orders a drink, taking measure of every table before she decides on which one to join. A shock of orange hair draws her attention toward one table in particular, assessing its current ambiance. )

[cartographie]

[ A few preliminary hands are customary when a person's feeling out their opponents and the situation at large. While Emilia observes, Nami engages in a game of extremely low-stakes poker, betting a few pieces of gold she lifted out of some wealthy pocket or another earlier that day and watching the cards as they're played, trying to sniff out any cheaters before she starts cheating herself.

It helps too, that fate has her lose a hand or two before she recoups her losses, setting her cards on the table with a neutral lift of her eyebrows at the other players, reading them intently, waiting to spot a whiff of doubt before she lets the con continue.

As the cards are being shuffled, Nami looks over at the onlooker, her gaze settling on the iron pin she wears before lifting to her face. Can't cheat another group member, so that's a variable, but, maybe they're both here hoping to find out more than they already knew about this shithole. ]

Are you getting dealt in?

[valeas]

( Emilia makes a mental note to thank her husband later for the coin he has amassed; her role as gladiator leaves much to be desired. Laetio keeps most of the earnings, a fact that has always frustrated her on behalf of the other real fighters.

One grievance at a time, however. )

I think I will,

( comes with the slightest nod in Nami's direction, potentially too subtle to be noticed. But she's caught sight of a pin herself, and slides into a seat with further conviction. She shutters her expression to make herself difficult to read, already having decided she would not play the amateur card. If she wants to work her way up to the shark, this has to be believable.

The catfish at their table looks to them with a hint of glee in his eye. ) Tell me, ladies. Would you consider yourselves women of good fortune? ( Their luck, as it turns out, will be paramount for this game. )