npc inbox: sa-hareth + stairs of sighs

[groundrules]

NPC INBOX: SA-HARETH

Reach out to your (not-so-)favourite NPC here, putting their name in the comment header. Try to keep it to just quick text/audio/written exchanges or inquiries that can accept summarised answers, please!

CURRENTLY WITH THE PARTY

	THE MERCHANT username: raven master The patron saint of etiquette and the eastbound getaway expedition. Seems to largely trade information alongside wares. Appreciates spices, strategy and collaboration. Has an eerie and overly cautious manner. Committed. Defends the benefit of the many, to the detriment of the few.
	KARSA username: lady of the willow tree Sorceress, young (?). Employed by the Merchant and deferential to him. Talented but fiery and frequently impatient, intolerant of fools. She will get today's job done yesterday. Struggles to sympathise with men, objections and those who cannot absorb information quickly. Enchanted the group's translation devices.
	ASGEIRR The ghost of a scholar monk. Haunts the tattered execution cloak that the party stole from the La Rea bank in Sa-Hareth. Once a champion of equality and freedom, he faced ire for converting his followers against the regionally profitable trade of slavery. Soft-spoken but wise and just, slow to regain his strength. Will speak to those who visit his cloak in brief interludes. Favours necromancers.
	MAZYAR Charlatan, crook or wise man, Mazyar has worn all the names. Once an exceptionally skilled smuggler, now an equally apt tradesman and caravan master, allied with the Merchant. Less cryptic than his 'associate,' if more prone to riddles and keen on items with value.
	GHOST ARMY OF ARHA A maudlin, marauding and eerily fixated army led by the young lord Arha through the Stairs of Sighs. They seek to rescue Arha's oracle lover Hatisse from Taravast.
	OUHRSSON Guys, it's a bear.

SA-HARETH

	"HALTHAM" | ANURR username: Haltham | illiterate The undead warlord Anurr, previously posing as gentle-mannered giant Haltham. An embodiment of Sa-Hareth's cold storms and wind, who regained his territory from contender Unhalad with the inadvertent help of the party in Arc I. Frostily rational and amenable to some negotiation.
	THE (NOT-SO) GOOD PEOPLE From distressed locals to busy-bee merchants, guards, enchanters, tradesmen, politicians and looser-tongued courtesans — never underestimate the value of indiscretion in a citadel built on commerce, rumour and stubbornly choosing to ignore the expanding rule of the undead. Not every piece of gossip or legend's worth your time, but beggars can't be choosers.

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[groundrules]

On this matter, master Asgeirr seems to be drawn to a pause, flickering in and out of existence to suggest either his deep philosophical consternation or a decreasing appreciation for the farmhouse cat that takes this precise moment to walk right through his specter. Shameful creature! And shameless! And fattened! Has Shoushou not noticed, of late? She hardly even chases the rodents, she is so well provided. He is not a man of cruelty, but he thinks, a cat should be kept lean. Else, no good will come to her, she will lose her bite, her wit about her.

Now, the afterlife. On this, he has several views, some sustained by academics, many more by poets. "We must not dismiss romantics, for theirs are the eyes that glimpse the soul."

It is true, enough has been written, and Asgeirr himself has invested the better part of ten years in study. The first belief he thinks wise is this: that there is no afterlife. "All matter is snow and clay, and from it we are born, and to it we return. There is no after and man is arrogant and desperate to think past the measure of his days."

The second belief is that the soul and its flesh are divided, though further analysis diverges — if one passes, does the other? Can the connection be severed? Certainly, some believe so, and they argue that man must divorce himself from fleshly pleasures as he ages, so he might hasten this divide. And that the spirit goes into a second, greater, different realm, a new state of being — though, even then, does it retain awareness? How much of its previous memory remains tied to the flesh?

[binghua]

Whatever brings about the mild tirade against the housecat, Xingchen cannot know. He cannot see the specter's troubles, after all, but he smiles to himself. The cat is surely very cute, owing to her being spoiled, but he also cannot deny the truth in Asgeirr's words about her needing to earn her keep, so to speak. And when the cat, seemingly unbothered by the fact that there is a ghost very much present in their midst, makes her way to flop against Xingchen's thigh, he gently reaches down to run the tips of his fingers through her fur.

Asgeirr answers his question, however, and Xingchen listens, taking everything in. It seems they are not of dissimilar mind on the subject, though nothing is ever certain when it comes to the after.

Then again, maybe Wei Wuxian would be able to speak further on that.

But while this is all very interesting, Xingchen does still want to figure out if there really is anything tethering Asgeirr to this realm. "In this one's experience, I have often found that there are those who cannot seem to let go of their mortal experience. Much of the time they had been wronged in life and and desire for someone to make things right. This one certainly believes they retain awareness from that alone, though after they are released, I cannot say what happens to them. If all goes well, hopefully they are able to enter into a cycle of reincarnation, or whatever one may wish to call it."

He continues to give the cat attention, fingers moving to scratch under her chin. She purrs loudly. Perhaps this emboldens Xingchen, for he speaks up again, definitely more blunt this time. "If this one may, do you have any worldly connections you may struggle to leave behind, Master Asgeirr?"

[groundrules]

For his part, the good master Asgeirr seems compelled to stupor, listening out the man's cadence of speech, riddling his purpose. He has no answer to this question, and appears faintly confused that it was asked. How may he help disciple Shoushou?

[binghua]

...Ah. They've circled back to where they started. Xingchen hasn't gleaned much from Asgeirr in this conversation, except that he really doesn't seem to be malevolent, as Wei Wuxian said. Because of this, there's no urgency to liberate his soul, and especially if he's not truly willing yet.

So Xingchen gives the cat one last pet and pushes himself back to his feet. "Idle curiosity, Master Asgeirr. This disciple thanks you for your indulgence but will take his leave and not trouble you any longer."

[groundrules]

A fine, handsome disciple, so mannered. If Asgeirr were given to doubt — but he is not! — he might question the purposelessness of this brief exchange, bereft of practical conclusion.

Instead, he perks to attention when disciple Shoushou begs his leave, and interrupts on two matters: the first, if disciple Shoushou will return? He is alone here, so often, and too few come to talk. It was an art, in his day, to converse fairly and in the spirit of learning and the sharing of rhetoric. But it lies forgotten.

And the second, "Will you bring me a butterfly?"

[binghua]

In turn, Xingchen perks up at the interruption, wondering if Asgeirr has had a delayed reaction to his previous questions. Instead, it turns out he's just lonely. Xingchen's chest aches to hear it. So he replies without hesitation. "I would be happy to speak with you again, when we are both able."

As for Asgeirr's other request, Xingchen takes a moment. It's so out of the blue that it takes him aback, even though it's simple enough in theory. "Winter has set in deeply here, so I do not think there are any butterflies at the moment. Is there any kind in particular you wish to see? I can try to find one later." And by him finding one, Xingchen clearly means he'll have to ask others for assistance. Although he can manage well enough on his own, the fact remains that he's still entirely blind. If Asgeirr wants a white butterfly as opposed to a purple one, Xingchen will be of absolutely no help.

[groundrules]

Ah, winter, yes. Asgeirr remembers, distantly, the likes of it — here, on this barren ground especially. Coarse and keen and pain, searing. He pauses as if his fleshless body might yet recall the taste of the cold, in kind. Then, politely, "I would like a butterfly who is happy. At the very least, content. I would like that very much indeed."

[binghua]

A happy butterfly. Xingchen smiles to himself at the image. Though, if he thinks on it for more than a moment, how is one to tell if a butterfly is happy? Even when he could see, he wouldn't be able to answer that question with utmost certainty. Is a butterfly that simply flutters from flower to flower considered happy or just living its short life?

Either way, he'll definitely need help procuring such a little creature when the time comes. "That sounds wonderful. This one hopes he will not keep you waiting too long."

[groundrules]

This, more than most matters brought before him, seems to please Asgeirr, and he dissolves out of existence in a flurry of slow, if well-meaning nods. Yes, his happy, beautiful butterfly. What a creature that will be. Delightful.