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

lily + wuxian for asgeirr

[weifinder]

Wei Wuxian pats Asgeirr's cloak fondly.

"Looks like this can use a little more mending. Master Asgeirr, would you mind? I can work on it while myself and my friend Lily here chat with you for a while."

Ignore the slight congestion he definitely has going on. He can smile regardless!

[aprescoup]

Asgeirr has never minded, not a day in his sad second life. The mist that so often darkens his eyes seems to have lightly dispelled — he looks at Wei Wuxian and briefly knows him.

"Please, cut my frayed ends." A literal request, sooner than a metaphor. That cloak's seen finer days.

[lancifolium]

Pulling a little stone from her pocket, she used her wand to transfigure it into a small pair of scissors. Hesitating she looked from the spectral monk to Wei Wuxian and back again before timidly approaching the cloak to get to work.

"It's nice to meet you," she managed nervously between snips. "Would you be willing to speak with us a bit, about the undead? We hoped you might have some recollection about their rulers, and where they come from."

[aprescoup]

At this, Asgeirr seems to halt, to consider. First the girl, then the hesitancy of her work on his cloak skins.

And finally, "They came long after I perished. I heard rumours."

[weifinder]

Wei Wuxian joins in the careful trimming, not hesitant, hands deft in their work. It makes sense, given what the spirit has said before.

"That would make sense, from what you've shared with us before. During the time of your life, were there rumours or legends of such things being possible?"

[aprescoup]

"Please... please," he interrupts with a wave of his hand. "Gentler with the trim."

It emerges that even a half-blind ghostly apparition can prove particular with artisanal work.

"There was ever talk of the dead rising. Stories. Men who woke because the moon was full, or a lover betrayed them, or the spirit of a crow possessed them. But always isolated exceptions. Nothing of... of this intensity." No dreams of such a coordinated, careful movement. "They say it took them a handful of days to seize and ruin Ellethia. And that, a city whole."

[lancifolium]

"Was there talk about why Ellethia was the first to fall?" She looked up at the ghost curiously before resuming her snipping with the utmost gentleness. Given the dirty deals keeping Taravast safe, she couldn't help but wonder if a similar arrangement had fallen through for the first citadel to be lost.

[aprescoup]

"He is not," he whispers pleadingly to Lily's side, "Gentle with the trim."

It matters to an old man turned into whimsical particles. "No one knows why Ellethia perished first. Some call it the curse of arrogance. It was a young nation, thriving. For a time, its magic rose meteorically to even laugh down at Taravast. Its commerce exceeded even Sa-Hareth at the peak of salt trade."

[weifinder]

"Gentled, gentled!" He quirked up an eyebrow, but for a guy starting to sport a rather scraggly beard (don't ask), he leaves it at that, studiously examining the frayed ends for any that really did need trimming, versus those which would hold up for longer still.

Conversationally, he adds:

"The Bessis mentioned the Don here in Taravast traded magic technology to the dead lords, to have a blind eye turned toward Taravast itself. Taravast does pride itself on its magic." He pauses, looking up to the ghostly scholar, to Lily as well. "Ellethia's loss was a decrease in competition and in potential curbing of the dead storm rising."

[aprescoup]

"Gentled," he agrees, and seems to hum thoughtfully as the stitching and hemming proceed under careful watch. Can he still discern good work from empty toil? Irrelevant. "Taravast is tradition. Ellethia was... a different matter. Younger. Brighter. Irreverent."

[lancifolium]

Ceasing her snipping to look on as Wei Wuxian 'gentled' she turned back to her handiwork, trying to mimic his movements and the level of care he conveyed. "Was there talk of where the undead came from? It's almost impossible to think someone like Unhalad was ever a mortal man."

[aprescoup]

"Unhalad was a newer creation, compared to his brothers. Compared even to the Lord Anurr." But he seems to be weighing his words, their possibilities, as if he is re-examining the history of the dead and finding it himself lacking. "Stories placed the dead with a vengeance. Or a sickness. Or perhaps simply the pre-ordained end of mankind. But in truth, no one soul knows how they came, or what they seek. They don't appear to require power to sustain themselves. It only amuses them."

[weifinder]

"Huh." Indeed, a thoughtful statement, though it did back up that something new was, in the end, perhaps most required. Something innovative and beyond traditional, but to what extent that meant much to them, that they were to do anything at all, he couldn't say. Were they?

He agreed with the Merchant's request, that they survive to leave the world, and not add to its burdens. Still...

"Who was it," he said, "That took Ellethia?"

[aprescoup]

"A fine question," he agrees with cautious humming. "No overlord lingered. They razed her to the ground, then all fled. Perhaps it was before the hordes formed their leaderships, when they yet trampled all that stood before them. You have seen Sa-Hareth. There are citadels were the dead have staked their claim."

So deeply and for such an extended time, that these claims have even gone disputed. "We have never heard of a decimation as complete as that of Ellethia. So far."

[lancifolium]

Not expecting to hear that the destruction of Ellethia was still unparalleled she looked towards Wei Wuxian briefly before resuming her gentle snipping.

"And all because of their advanced magic? Were their rumors of their being something that called to the undead in Ellethia and made them swarm it as they did?"

[aprescoup]

"Mmmmm." He hums along with it, indicating with his hand where he wishes the trim cut shorter, and here, there, a few fresh stitches injected. All very well to keep the talk stoked, but this cloak won't mend itself. "There was never much telling why they appeared in Ellethia first. The magic is one possibility. Perhaps geography. A wealth of resources we have yet to understand. The density of the local population? Or the weather. If you ask me... it may well have been a matter of chance."

[weifinder]

Ah, stitches. Wei Wuxian is able to switch over to stitchwork when their ghostly scholar, lips pressed into a thoughtful line.

"I know time is less of a concern for you, so forgive me for asking, but about how long ago did this happen?"

[aprescoup]

He laughs, suddenly, hollowly, bitterly. Somehow vindicated in a battle only he knew he must have fought. "What difference do you notice between the presentations of Taravast and Sa-Hareth?"