npc inbox: taravast

[groundrules]

NPC INBOX: TARAVAST

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!

PREVIOUS NPC INBOX FOR ARC I: SA-HARETH & STAIRS OF SIGHS

	MACALUSO Earnest and moderate nephew of Bonaccorso, seeking to succeed his grandfather. A pursuer of astronomy, accountancy, diplomacy and elemental magic, with a long history of supporting the witches of Bessis. Champions firmer ties with foreign citadels to improve Taravast's access to armies and resources. Looking to choose a bride.
	VANNOZZA Beautiful and fierce niece of Bonaccorso, contending to become the next Ilia Doxe. Mind of a scientist and a lady of the hunt. A practitioner and frequent visitor of the necromantic and healing sectors. Has entertained and turned away more lovers than the heroine of a particularly sappy romance novel. Often indisposed.
	RIGARDA Lively, charismatic and gossip-prone lady of the highest echelons, received at every gathering. Can slaughter half a dozen reputations with the right twitch of her brows before breakfast. An associate of the Merchant's and old friend of the current Ilia Doxe of Taravast, Bonaccorso. Indifferent in the game of succession. Loathes crumpets and witches.
	THE LAVISH LOCALS From the witches of Bessis or Attaryl to academicians, politicians, nobles, servant folk, artists or protestors — if you’ve got a question, someone can surely supply an answer.
	THE MERCHANT 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 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. Only available until 28/12.
	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.

SA-HARETH

"HALTHAM" | ANURR 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.

Comments

[weifinder]

Oh, the same difference as it always does. This one living may give us something we desire, if enough in our debt.

( Not gratitude, he thinks. Awareness of debts settled and gone again, ah? But there, the question, and he asks, feeding leaves to the fires still: )

Those living, or those dead? The dead have perhaps already been called to their differing masters, ( Huntress, Anurr, Beastmaster, and three of them settled with finality before the howling had begun; ) and for the rest, I claim little. Our help, as requested in the near future. I would prefer Taravast not be entirely consumed, one way or another, but my best hope in that is we remain alive, and do not burden this city overmuch longer. Hence my concerns over who is the water pouring.

( A glance to this woman, who is and is not dead and alive at the same moment, the spirit of Hatisse, the failing body of Vannozza. )

The beacon. We seek it, my lady.

[aprescoup]

( She is not a creature of hesitations, not one to meander. She recovers herself, from the fractures, the pieces, the shapeless debris. Sitting on one of the generous sofas, she pats the cushion beside her once, then again, in invitation. )

Whatever the cost, whatever the compromise. I can recover from poverty, indignity or ruin. Not from death.

[aprescoup]

A good concern. I hope, little brother, you have your answer. If anyone should know, it will be my sisters.

( But her eyes glisten with something not unlike humour, and there's fresh vigour when she brings her hands together again in a quick rub. Here, a body seized, well-cared for.

Until she pauses, frowns: )

The bea... the mouth? The mouth of many walks? ( She laughs. ) The portal. It closed. The old wells of sorcery dried, but it can revive. It is... lazy. And a little slow. But once the Doxe authorises a rift, it will happen. My sisters might even perform.

[inferus]

( Wrath joins her after a moment, appreciating the way she is able to gather herself again and focus on the matter at hand. Not many can, but the resolve is one few mortals can muster. It is why he believes her to be the better choice in leadership than her cousin. )

I will come to you with my experience and knowledge, with what I learn even if what I uncover is ugly, and with a cure if there is one. ( Wrath wants there to be, but he will not assume nor will he lie to her. ) It will be your choice what you decide to do with what I bring you.

[aprescoup]

You mean, what I decide to do with the people who have inflicted this upon me. Because you think there is a culprit, past my body's weakness.

( An easy translation, ruthless. She cuts short their tenuous navigation of unpleasant truths. )

Very well. Do your work, and I shall see you repaid.

[inferus]

I would be surprised if I am incorrect. They may not have done so intentionally knowing the consequences, but someone's actions have led to this.

( Or so he believes. Nothing about her affliction appears to be natural to him, and it generally means a cost of some kind. His gaze meets her own before he nods. )

Tell me if there are any changes or if you remember anything further, my lady. ( He bows his head to her and then offers a hand as if to shake it. He can tell more from touch. It doesn't have to be the affliction itself that he touches, but a person- an individual. Perhaps he can sense more of what she suffers from by that alone, perhaps not, but he has to try. )

[aprescoup]

( She yields her hand with a flourish, landing it soft in Wrath's grasp: beneath thin, pale skin, her pulse languishes, but carries. Past that, her body and her being, the essence of her spirit, appear as if they are unpeeling from each other in a slow, incremental sequence.

She bides her time: )

I would not even know what to tell you. Before the latest spell of... inconvenience, I... experienced the same discomfort as all of you in the tower of Bessis. I have been taking wine and, fair, some of grandfather's opiates, but they are an old introduction to my diet. ( Unlikely, she seems to suggest, to have triggered a relapse. ) I have been receiving visits, but neither my lovers, my petitioners or my necromancers undertook rites. I accepted... a gift of flowers, one of furs, and... jewellery, I am ever sent gold.

( She waves towards the idle spread of her coffers, distantly available. )

Then, grandfather took ill, and, of course, I followed every healers' precaution before being deemed suitable to visit. And now, days after, my city burns, and my back with it. Perhaps the two are linked.

[inferus]

( Wrath is used to dealing with souls- not spirits, leading them to the afterlife, bargaining for them as only the devil might. But still he attempts to call her spirit back to him, to this. She has made no such deal, and so her spirit should be her own. Her spirit would be better protected by the denizens of Hell itself than it apparently is here.

His gaze drifts to the coffers. )

I find it unlikely any of the objects may be related, but I would like to look them over just in case.

( If he can sense or see anything magical within them, it might be something. He is not certain of where to go from here, from this moment. His dark gaze lifts to her own with her hand still in his. )

It may be linked. ( He does not have the evidence to say. ) Did any similar thing happen before your affliction returned? Every time that it did? If you can fine a pattern, there may be an answer within that.

Does your cousin know of your affliction?

[aprescoup]

( Another wave of the hand, and she allows the search of her possessions: they lack in all signs of magical tampering or presence. On her smallest service table, wine and opiates, as she had indicated — strong powders, but they too lack any magical intervention. The wine, while rich, is common. )

Of course. We were friends and children together. Macaluso has... ( Here, the roll of her eyes. ) A romanticised vision of what cousins can achieve together in union. He has trailed after my skirts as long as I remember.

( And her memory runs long. ) He knows. If I could identify a pattern, there would be no need for you, any of you. Sometimes, I laugh with grandfather when I take sick over my wine, and so does he, and we agree: perhaps I was born with my spirit aged, and my body now and then remembers it.

[lancifolium]

[ Hatisse's answer was generous and made a hundred more questions spring to mind. Lily made herself focus, watching Hatisse and resisting the urge to look in Wei Wuxian's direction.

There was just so much worth asking about. ]

Your Attaryl sisters? Are they the only ones who can?

[aprescoup]

No... but they are adept, sister. They have long hands and beautiful hands and they twirl their fingers so well.

( This part seems to amuse her past expectation. )

What has happened to my remains?

[inferus]

( Wrath thought there was little chance to find answers within the objects around her, but he wants to leave no stone unturned as he stands beside the objects. He takes in her words, filing away this information too, turning back to look at her. )

Your cousin must be just as concerned with finding a cure then.

( He is used to dealing with souls, not spirits, and it has become clear to him how different a spirit is to a soul. Can spirits be 'aged' in that way? It does not explain the feeling of death itself he gets from her. )

On that note, I won't take any more of your time. I will let you know when I find anything of note, my lady. ( He bows his head slightly and then exits the way he came in. )

... i think this is right, come yell at me guys if i'm wrong

[weifinder]

( More than enough to think about, and his mental pause for honesty is... well. )

Preserved in tomb, for the most part.

( Missing a few parts, and one from prior to death, if mentions of her singular eye are the truths he's inclined to believe they are. )

You're in remarkably pristine condition for a woman dead many, many decades.

it is all correct!

[aprescoup]

( A smile pulls the edges of her mouth in a line uncanny, all fang — ill-fitting on Vannozza's porcelain face. As if it were intended, perhaps, for broader lips.

She seems ruefully adept at reading between his lines. )

For the most part, brother. Then, they took parts of me. ( More laughter. ) So I would be sickened by the body and not reclaim it. Of course.

( And yet her good humour lingers. )

They were wrong! Very wrong. That body, this one. I have no trouble.

Macaluso- 16th- a letter

[bearshermark]

In your interest to accept foreign wisdom, I have this to offer.

Working alongside the people to rebuild may win you more of their favor than Vannozza's coin.

~L

[aprescoup]

( The letter reaches don Macaluso Spina — sadly, in the absence of further sender details, he cannot answer! But some part of him is surely grateful. )

[lancifolium]

Your right hand, and parts of your face.

[ Lily frowned as she confirmed for Hatisse what the woman already suspected. Whatever the reason, Lily found it terribly grim. ]

Is this Beacon the only one of its kind, my lady?

[aprescoup]

Here... yes. Elsewhere, there are many wells, many worlds, many mouths! They cannot all dry to...

( But she is briefly too awestruck to continue, mouth a tired, pinched moue of affected dissatisfaction that Vannozza Spina strugles to produce. )

...a hand. A few bites of the face. That is it, sister? That is it? These lice think I am troubled by so little? I am a child? A fussy bride?

( Laughter compels her. It is too strong a thing. )

I am not! I am not. Shall I show you? Shall I show all of you? Of course, little siblings, of course. You want your 'beacon' open, don't you? And you like me, no? Better than you do my sisters. What have they done for you? Nothing. And what can I do for you? Everything.

( Enough, at least, to pacify her. ) Bring me my body. Bring me any body, leave me even this rag. I shall open your pretty beacon for you. I can. I can do many things. And don't you like a trade? Before the next swelling of mother moon. Gift me a body, and I shall gift you perfect obedience. Think, little siblings, think.

( An amused, volatile Hatisse, at least, seems to have exhausted the resources of Vannozza's flesh. She faints, by the fire: in perfect health, but depleted of energy, as mistress Spina recovers her health. )



( ooc: 'congratulations' on this new opportunity to gain a party member. You have until the next full moon, before 30 Nov, to talk among yourselves - and perhaps the group? - and decide if it is worthwhile to give Hatisse a body. If your verdict is to do so, you may steal her original one from the mausoleum and bring it to her, or find her a recently dead one. The necromancers of the district may advise.

The body purchase can be backtagged or handwaved. The decision is important to have by the end of the month, however.

Hatisse is a powerful witch who can open the local beacon, but she is coy and not always sweet, prone to her own designs. She will travel with the party, if she is revived. )

rings up the merchant

[weifinder]

At this point I can't assume you have no idea what's going on from our end, but to what degree were you aware of the spirit transfers of the Doxe's, by their meddling or whomever else wanting their line unbroken, and Lady Vannozza's preparation to that state? Or Lady Rigarda in her actions on behalf of Taravast and the Doxe, fulfilling weapons trade agreements with the undead lords at large?

[pulvisetumbra]

What difference does it make?

[weifinder]

It doesn't make a difference. I'm still asking.

[pulvisetumbra]

I'm not unaware.

[weifinder]

Yet you seemed surprised by the Doxe's support of the undead lords from the beginning. Was that true?

[pulvisetumbra]

As I remember, I asked if you had spied on witches to achieve your knowledge. I did not ask if you spoke truth.

Shall I tell you a story?

[weifinder]

Please. Educate me.