npc inbox

[groundrules]

NPC INBOX

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 posts:

■ Arc I: Sa-Hareth

■ Interlude: Stairs of Sighs + Arc II: Taravast

■ Interlude: Ellethia

■ Arc III: House of Ravens

SERTHICA | ALLIED NPCs | OTHERS

SERTHICA

	ARABELLA Mistress of discipline and Minaras' Watch ships, and member of the ruling governance. Her manner at once innocent, ruthless and cold-blooded. Mother to clockwork children.
	CAIN D'UBIQ Foremost dragon rider and gentleman of Eidris, accepted by the great fire-breathing Ashtart. War hero of the conflict with Minaras. Too young for his rank and achievements. Patron of several dragon schools. Appears perpetually absent-minded, thoughts astray.
	MA'AM MARIOL Motherly figure to the orphans of Serthica's impoverished underworld of exiles, the Mouse House. After years of rearing, prone to treating everyone as children. Her temper runs hotter than a first glance might indicate. Knows just about everyone.
	(KING) THIVAR II Formerly king of Serthica, holding a diminished court in Eidris — the single citadel contingent that still recognises his authority. Headstrong, firm, dignified. Claims Minaras and Serthica's dragons as his birthright.
	CHRICHTER Only available to those who join Remembrance. Leader of the radical Remembrance resistance movement that calls for a different solution to Serthica's post-plague political landscape. Unaffiliated with Eidris or Minaras.

ALLIED NPCs

	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. Furtively left the group, bearing injury, at the end of Arc II.
	'QUICKSILVER SAM'(UEL VANE) Pirate king of great renown, master of haunted waters. Recovering from a journey through the Crossing Seas, where he summoned the drowned dead for a foolish act of vengeance with an elusive artefact he himself misunderstands. Agile, quick-witted, charming and possessed of more street smarts than many. Intent to repay his debt to the party.
	HATISSE Revived witch of the Attaryl, partly responsible for the massacre of the Stairs of Sighs. Formerly a court witch of the Attaryl. Manipulative, vicious, a trained seductress. Formidably powerful. Buried with wards and injuries by her own sisters to prevent her return. Somewhat bound to Wrath.
	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.
	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. Not travelling with the party.

OTHERS

"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

/facepalm

[thedreamer]

[ Oh, well done, Doctor. Thinking out loud too much. Again... ]

Oh, it is, yes. Wrong word there, sorry! I do that sometimes, mix up my words. It's a homonym, that one, sedative - one word with different meanings, like play - something you can watch in a theatre - or play, something I enjoy doing with the children and their games. Which I do miss, by the way, I don't intend to stay away very much longer. I've got some new gadgets for the children, in fact. Anyway! It's a homonym where I'm from, before I got here. Bit of slang, actually. That old sedative, it's a real gas. See, clever, that.

[ He says this quickly and confidently, but can he spin this? ]

Heating gas, though, it's made of a specific combination of hydrocarbons generally that, if combined and produced in excess, can have the sort of side effects you're describing. Sleepiness, slower reactions. It's nothing to worry about at all, I've seen it before. Everything will be fine when they dial it back a bit. With everything that's happened up here lately, well, they're being rude like you said, or just not paying enough attention.

[ Obviously quite the opposite is true. ]

Has it happened any other time before?

[sansdoute]

...right. Right you are, and me, ol'me, I'm mishearing all sorts. Oh, with children, can't be having a second to me-self, not that I'm complaining, even with Theodore. He's barely come to us, bless.

( Where... was she. ) Oh, now and then, once a year or more, they get the pressure wrong, I think, or it's the pipes, or... five years ago, when they rounded us like rats, was when it last happened long. Think they were only learning how to handle us, now they'd locked us in. Was a month of it, awful, puppet, couldn't gather me own thoughts with a spindle. Though, tell you the truth, right after the coal sick, don't think I wanted to think about that.

It's all good, pet, nothing happens. Just some tempers rouse, best not to be your good selves here for'it.

[thedreamer]

Old pipes, you know, bit hard to manage sometimes. Calibrations have to be reset.

[ How to handle us and locked us in. Well, this isn't alarming in the slightest... ]

The thing about that, actually - can you recall a pattern to it of any sort? If it happens once a year or more, is it random or does it seem to coincide with a particular...event? If it gets worse with any sort of consistency, I can help them fix it. Keep it better regulated. You're fine, I know, but if we can avoid tempers rousing, all the better, eh? You have enough to worry about as it is.

[sansdoute]

Right... you're very right, you can speak to all sorts, can't ye? Being the liaison, right... let me... let me quickly have a thi — Lilian, you cannot burn his trousers for what he's done, I know he's done you wrong.

( ...round two: ) It's not the kind of thing you put in your calendar, now is it? And it's always been... I think it's all the heat, you know, you sleep more, you forget more... I just remember, me, forgetting a bit, poppet. I suppose, once a year or so? Nothing bad, they're excellent pipes, and I'm not, I'm not, me, complaining. I'm not a complainer.

[thedreamer]

[ ...he needs to get them all the hell out of there, is what needs to happen. Immediately. ]

Oh, you're far from it, dear. You carry on quite well, with all you've got on your hands.

So they rounded you up and brought you down here after the coal sick swept through, started feeding the gas down here to you. Bit of a kindness, from the sound of it, as long as they get the pressures right. [ The furthest thing from a kindness but, tread lightly and all that. ] And they will, I'll help them.

I do think I ought to pay a visit, though. Compare the air up here to down there, bit of experimentation.

[sansdoute]

And they don't charge nothing for it, either. I know there's all sorts upstairs too, and they're not all nice, are they, but that's not bad, is it?

[thedreamer]

[ Interesting. And ever more alarming. Keep them docile and submissive. Yet, some resist. ]

They should take better care of you and do far more for you than they have been, but they're trying, I suppose. They don't get it right all the time, exactly, bit like our own parents, eh? But after the sickness, they brought you all down here, they've kept you safe, warm.

Does it seem to affect everyone's memory then, the children too? And some people get angrier about it than others?

[sansdoute]

Well, we all lived here, more like... we can't be going up no more. Which, all right. Well, you seem to.

It's not about memories, poppet, I'm sure it's only heating. And the anger's no more than a stubbed toe.

[thedreamer]

[ He'd thought more than once about trying to get them back up here, but he's conflicted. It's not entirely safe up here, but not safe in the Mouse House, either. They'll have to be careful and strategic. He has to cut the gas off at the source, at the very least.

He wants to get them all out, but he's worried about endangering them if they make a sudden move to bring them all topside, and yet being gassed is equally concerning. If they bring them up topside, do they risk exposing them to something terrible? ]

I'll work this out with the officials, I promise. We'll have the gas sorted.

You said you're fine for now, I know, but I'd like to visit with you and the children if you're up for company again. Have a look at the vents where the gas is coming through. Just make sure everything's working properly on both sides.

[ Can he cut something off down there? Can he find a way to recirculate the air? At the very least, can he gain a better understanding of the gas itself and, possibly, how it affects him versus them? ]

[sansdoute]

And clean the radiators, maybe? If it ain't much trouble? Man's touch always tell. Thank you kindly.

[thedreamer]

Oh, I'm good at that! What else can I bring you - more oranges? Things for the children? I'll be down there tomorrow.

[ There's no time to waste, in his mind. It's of utmost importance. ]

[sansdoute]

Certainly, and of course, some oranges can't go amiss!


( During his visit, the Doctor may find that the 'gas' — also known as the heavy sedative infusion omnipresent in the Mouse House — has now thickened, containing much of the sedative and memory loss ingredients discovered by Caitlyn and Vi.

The 'irritability' Marion referenced is just the natural reaction of some short-tempered folks finding they are slower, more forgetful. The gas itself does not stoke anger.

The orphanage is largely find, except for the children being... children, and Gavroche seeming curiously skittish, but refusing to explain himself! )

[thedreamer]

[ ooc: My brain - where did it go - can the Doctor try and talk to Gavroche or is that a dead end for now? ]

[groundrules]

Sure, you can start something!

[thedreamer]

[ She has her hands full, always, their Ma'am Mariol. Would that he could help more; for a man who rarely sleeps, it still never feels like he has enough time. Ironic, perhaps, for a Time Lord. There's an urgency to everything now, a feeling that something is going to break soon and they need to stop it hurting anyone else. The bustle and chaos of the children being - delightfully - children brings a smile of relief to his face. They're safe for now, they'll stay that way if he has anything to say about it.

When the oranges and other sweets are passed around, after they've played their games together and the Doctor has made his rounds doling out encouragements and lighthearted stories of wonders beyond their imagination, he searches for his young friend, Gavroche, who's not been himself. He wants a moment to talk, though that may prove a challenge. In his cavernous pockets, a small gadget remains, something he's been working on to give him. But not here. How best to approach? Even still, he finds himself rusty at this. His own children were lost to him so long ago, but he still remembers, aches. Children enjoy having a purpose, and he recalls Gavroche so earnestly offering to do things for him when they'd first met; shine his shoes, stitch a button. He can help him now, perhaps, though unlikely with anything tangible.

Smiling softly, when he has a moment to catch his attention, the Doctor asks- ]

Can you help me with something, my friend?

[sansdoute]

( Silent, less solid, like a hungry ghost. He's been haunting the corridors, drifting after his fellow orphans, his shelter mother, his friends. Not delivering his paper as eagerly, no longer applying himself.

When he's called, he seems too unmoored to remember this is his name, he's gone called, he's spoken to. Finally, he inches forward: )

How's it I can help?

[thedreamer]

[ A quiet(er?) corner to speak, and the Doctor reaches into one of his pockets, revealing a small, circular item similar to a compass, though lacking any actual directional capability. Instead, it functions a bit like a fidget spinner. He's etched numbers up through ten - though in random order - into the copper face of it, and a tiny hand spins around a little gear in the middle. There's a spring off to the side that can be poked, prodded, tinkered with, and a little button that connects to the spring and can be pressed - inflated and deflated - to his heart's content. It's rudimentary at best, lacking all the adornments he would have included had he his usual resources available. When one's sonic-less screwdriver functions more like a pocket knife these days, one does the best they can.

The Doctor kneels down to hand it to Gavroche, using the opportunity to try and catch his eyes, to study him a bit further. ]

Hold on to this for me. It's very important.

[sansdoute]

( Of course he accepts — any tool's a toy, any gadget an instrument. He gives it a modest spin, watching the numbers whirl and twirl before him. And softened: )

...is it a tool? Are we fixing something?

[thedreamer]

It's just for fun. Mostly. But you can use this bit - [ He demonstrates, showing the way a small copper piece bends out from the side. It's small, the edge blunt and flat like a screwdriver. ] - to tighten and loosen bolts and things. You'll keep it safe for me? It's yours now. But if you know of anything that needs fixing, anything at all, we can work on it together. Talk it through. I'm here to help, it's what I do.

[sansdoute]

( Ah, what a pretty toy. Bask in the brilliance of boy and tinker-tool, reunited. He's hardly timid about that, watching along with a convinced expression. )

...this is nice. ( In case the Doctor were wondering. ) I like it. I've got nothing to fix, but can I keep it anyway?

[thedreamer]

Yes! I want you to. Keep it safe. [ He smiles and gently reaches out, fussing with his hair, if Gavroche will allow him. If he does, for a moment, he'll brush some of his hair across his temple, his forehead, just in a gently playful manner. ]

Bit long here, just like mine. Been growing my hair out since I've been here. We almost match! [ Then the Doctor fusses with his own hair, purposefully making his bangs stick out in all directions. Then, softer, he tries to pry a little more. ]

Have you been okay?

[sansdoute]

( Sadly, there is great, hissing, step-back-taking opposition to the hair ruffling, because, see here now: )

I'm not a baby or a girl. ( He is, in fact, one of the men of the house, and so. )

I'm fine. We're all fine. Why shouldn't we be fine? We're... ( But he seems to need a moment to think the matter over. ) There's nothing wrong. It's all going well.

[thedreamer]

Well, no, of course not, you wouldn't be. You're Gavroche! My very important friend.

[ No hair ruffling or hair trimming here, noted. ]

Sometimes I think I'm fine but the people around me notice I might need a bit of...help, before I even know it myself. You're quieter, that's all. I was worried.

[sansdoute]

( Very good, very fine. The hair need not be touched. Big boys and girls hardly require it, and he's... roughly a decade short of that qualifier. It counts.

And at the very least, he seems — to be paying attention now, teething at his lower lip, drawing it back to himself. )

Do you like everything you've got to do? Even when it's the good thing to do?

[thedreamer]

[ Well, there's a question. And an easy answer is called forth. ]

No, not always. Sometimes the good things to do don't feel good, or right, or even like I'm ready.

[ Sometimes the "good thing," the best thing, weighs heavier because of the choices made to get there. ]

Sometimes I don't like being told what to do very much, either.