groundrules | npc inbox: sa-hareth + stairs of sighs

NPC INBOX: SA-HARETH

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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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It takes Xie Lian a moment to realize that yes, yes, the weird energy is coming from that man there. So he puts down his burden carefully, and then cups his hands to give a salute.

"I knew you had undead and ghosts, but I didn't think there would be Ghost Kings in this world as well."

And since the other one is dead for good, by all appearances...

"You are Anurr, aren't you?"

'Undead.' A foul name, but the people speak it. 'Ghosts.' Now, 'ghost kings.'

If he has worn countless names, they have always adorned human skins. He has never betrayed them, never brought slight or done them wrong.

And still, he nods to accept the insult. "Little friend, you are far from your path. Go home."

"... Heh? But I have to finish this?"

A vague gesture towards the funeral pyre. It's only a small portion of the bodies, there's so many of them that piling them all up would make a pyramid.

"We can't burn them too close to the house. It's already been damaged enough."

For a moment, they all linger, aimless and dumbfounded, staring at the man and his corpses and his fires. Then, he nods, and the four beside him catch his purpose when he speaks it in the free tongue, and they set to help the work of raising more pyres and lighting them aflame.

If it must be done to taint the forests with smoke, let it be done quickly.

Xie Lian lookas about as confused as the rest of them at first but when the other men - are they still alive? Does it matter? - start moving with purpose and sees what they're doing he actually gives a deeper bow.

"Ah, thank you, you don't have to... Thank you."

The man (?), Anurr, feels... really strange, so familiar and yet not. It's comforting and yet slightly unsettling at the same time. Xie Lian can't quite help sneaking glances as he keeps working, the way he did when San Lang first (re)appeared into his life. It's not really like San Lang, though. San Lang is an actual ghost, a Calamity, hec an make himself look however he wants. But this...

"I'm sorry, this might be rude to ask, but... this isn't really 'your' body, is it?"

His body. It is his claim, though when he coalesced around the notion of it, of gender also, he cannot remember. Fair flesh, as instruments go — resilient, once strengthened.

The bodies start to burn, scent of the spreading sulphur acrid. Snow darkens for the powdered filth.

"I've had no other."

Xie Lian inclines his head in a sort of apology.

"I'm sorry, it's not really any of my business. It's just... the energy you have, it feels familiar."

His hand goes to hold the crystal ring around his neck almost without thinking about it.

"I'm sorry about the house, too. We'll try to repair what we can.

The house fell into disrepute and disrepair, burned down and haggard. It homed chieftain once, and it will never open its doors to them again. So be it.

"Leave it." But then his voice shifts, from one to legion, speaking as a choir or sometimes distorted, "N o MO rE cAn B e DOn E."

Oh. That type of voice does not.... bring back any good memories for Xie Lian, and he involuntarily winces before he can stop and compose himself, to give another short bow.

"... Alright. Thank you for having given us shelter. And... for this."

A vague gesture to the people(?) helping out with the corpses.

"Hopefully, we'll be out of your hair soon. I don' think it's a good idea for us to remain here too long."

He and his men were here before the invaders, the merchants, the well-wishers, the miners. Before the strangers.

And here they will stay, here they will wait. He nods with the bow, watching the pyres burn and his creatures perform their duties, and just as the living man makes his excuses, he calls a follower close and leans to present his hair. The creature slices part of the braid, and Anurr offers it to the man with a slow hand. "T o Re MEmB Er M E by."

Xie Lian almost wants to ask so many questions, but he clams up and just receives the braid with both hands and another bow of his head. This feels significant in a lot of ways. Creatures as powerful as this one is don't easily part with pieces of themselves just for the fun of it, but it doesn't feel polite to ask.

"I don't think we would forget you even if we could... I'm sorry, is there a title to call you by, or something? I don't know what to call you."

This, no less than the pyres, seems to stall him, deliberating the answer while his sentinels loom and the winter winds wage their greetings. "We Ta KE nO LoRD s in ThE FrE e ForESt. WE ar E FreE."

"Oh.... Alright then."

He holds up the braid again respectfully.

"Thank you again. I will keep it safe."

If this 'man's is anything like Hua Cheng, this surely must not fall into strange hands and since it was given to him specifically, Xie Lian will make sure to guard it well.

"So B e it," he agrees and, the pyres raised and the fires burned, walks away from the encounter.

npc inbox: sa-hareth + stairs of sighs

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