groundrules | npc inbox

Entry tags:

npc inbox

npc inbox

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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. ]

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! )

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

Sure, you can start something!

[ 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?

( 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?

[ 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.

( 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?

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.

( 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?

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?

( 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.

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.

Edited ((changing some words)) 2022-11-13 23:30 (UTC)

( 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?

[ 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.

( Ah, the wisdom of a child, shared with his mentor. He nods his approval. )

I don't like some of the things I do. The right things. But I still do them.

( And he offers the little toy-trinket back. )

Because otherwise, they'd be wrong.

Sometimes the wrong thing feels right and sometimes the right thing feels wrong. All we can do is try to help, eh?

[ He looks at the small toy, studying it. ]

It's yours to keep, or give to someone else. But I can keep it safe if you prefer. Should I give it to someone else?

I'm helping my friend. And he helped me. And that's what friends do.

( But he seems to have less distinct goals for the trinket and only shrugs, lopsided, watching it with something between profound curiosity and learned disinterest. It's better, sometimes, not to care. )

...is yours. You do what you want.

That is what we do, isn't it? Help each other. Friends are the most important thing we have! Can I give this to your friend? If you introduce us. Unless he doesn't care much for toys. But I'd like to thank him, for helping you.

[ The Doctor keeps the trinket in the palm of his hand, absently flicking the tiny spinner. ]

( For once, Gavroche seems bitter in the way of childish petulance, of young things who think they know so very much better. He hisses: )

He doesn't need toys. He's got more than any of us.

( And he snatches back the trinket, pettily covetous. )

He doesn't need more. He gets everything, anyway.

[ ...confirming a few suspicions now, in an instant. The trinket is easily given back, though the Doctor is ever more curious, worried, and cautious. ]

He gets everything - does he share? He should, if he has everything. You said he helped you, though. How?

He looked after us. When things went... ( His voice lowers, softens. ) There was a place before this one. Before ma'am Mariol got a house, there was another. Bigger.

( Some part of him seems clearly fascinated. ) But, I don't know, it closed. And some of us were without anywhere to go, and he wasn't much bigger, he wasn't a big boy, but he taught us what to do, to keep going. Like... shine shoes and... deliver things and... ( A shrug, slow. He's delivering papers and correspondence even now, isn't he. ) And then we found here, and he didn't come. Because he's got all the toys he wants, and we don't have many.

( The trinket, now confiscated. )

He cares about you, then. We always help the people we care about.

[ Or... ]

Has your friend asked you to do things you don't like? I know it's hard sometimes, when you have to do the right thing but you don't like it. It's even harder when it's for a friend.

It's not hurting anyone. ( Murmured under his voice, less fearful than seemingly embarrassed. Ah, the root of it. ) It's making them happy. But it's lying. Ma'am Mariol says not to lie, cause the good gods see you.

( She says a great many things he recites just as prettily, mind. )

No, we shouldn't lie. But you, my friend, are doing the very best thing you can be right now.

[ The Doctor who lies often isn't the best to give advice about lying or not, but he tries to make it sound...helpful. Such a burden for his young friend. As often happens here, he has more answers now, but also more questions. Still, those can be pondered with his friends and their group at large. ]

The good gods see you, yes, but they see your heart, too. Who you are, all of you, the good and the bad. We all have that. You just help your friend and we'll be here to help you.

And you keep that. [ Nodding to the trinket, gladly given. ] I'll bring you something else, the next time I visit. But if you ever need me before then, you tell me.

(no subject)

sansdoute - 2022-11-19 19:14 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only