The Endless Dance of Empty Night [IC]

[QuidEst]

Vin finished hunching over his phone to protect it from the rain, putting it his hoodie pocket with the music at max volume. A muffled "Sticks and Stones" began playing. "Not great sound quality, I'm afraid. Grabbing my phone was a lot harder than the clothes for some reason. Well, a copy of my phone? I don't know how I can tell the difference, but-" He stopped talking, noticing Reagan. "Hey, you doing okay? This is all a lot, I know. We'll get somewhere we can take a break, and worry about things from there."

Fortunately, the elven cloaks were water resistant, even if his own hoodie only did a passable job of keeping the drizzle at bay.

[Recherché]

Instead of finishing the sentence, she stares into the middle distance and sucks on her teeth in about the most hackneyed contemplative expression ever. It lasts precisely seven-tenths of a second before her eyes fly open and she lurches forward as though she just took a punch to the gut. Quite suddenly, she looks about to cry. And then she does. Not sobbing, no racking grief. Just an open stream of tears joining the rainwater already wetting her cheeks. She does stumble a little, but that just serves as a cue to take a deep breath and pull herself together.

I'd ask if you were okay but this whole situation isn't okay. It's seriously screwed up and we're kinda screwed and it's not okay. Bridget grimaces. Sympathy is not her area of expertise. At the least you're not completely alone in this. We got this. Between all the weird abilities we're actually pretty well set for surviving in a new world and maybe if we solve enough riddles we can get to go home.

[Sepulchritude]

When Reagan turns back at the displays of sympathy, it's with a smile she struggles with as though afraid of it. At some point while she's shaking her head in response, it actually becomes a broad, if hapless, grin. "No, no no, I'm sorry, I just... Hold on." Whatever is going on, it seems to take a lot of effort for her let it out with any control.

"It's not— hahhh. It's not bad. Oh my god, no. I have all my teeth." And that proves to be the end of her control for the immediate term. She does begin something like sobbing at that, rhythmic noises, kind of convulsive, you know. Lots of tears. But it's laughter.

[Recherché]

Bridget blinks rapidly trying not to gawk. Okay you win.


By the by, Vin I don't suppose you can conjure hair dye? Although I'm not sure how I'd even make it work without a shower and shampoo....

[QuidEst]

Vin looks relieved that it’s nothing bad. ”Glad to hear it! As for hair dye, we can experiment once we reach somewhere to stay. Actually- does your database have any info on past people from other worlds? ‘Summoned to fight an invasion by the demon lord’ is traditional, but we didn’t exactly get the accompanying ‘Oh, hero’ welcome committee in a castle.”

[Recherché]

Bridget zones out in a way that's rapidly becoming familiar as she runs a dozen search queries at once. Unlike the other times though her eyes stay blank much longer before she raises her hand in a gesture for people to pause.

Guy I think I came across something big. Can we stop for just a sec. Cause this is weird and possibly very relevant. Also cause I think your questions will have me running more searches and I don't want to trip while doing that.

Sitting down in the sand, Bridget waits for everyone else before continuing.

So take all of this with a gigantic grain of salt. I'm running into a lot of unfamiliar terminology, magical theory and theology here. I'm not certain I understand this whole mess perfectly.

What I'm getting though is that Arcem is just a continent now, but it used to be part of a much bigger planet. Then... something happened. Something big that involved Heavan and God and angels and it was weird. Whatever it was caused pieces of the world to... split off? Be peeled off? Disintegrate? I dunno exactly. But it left these raw ragged edges everywhere. Those edges border on something called the "Uncreated Night" which best I can tell is elemental void. It's the absence of everything somehow made into something.

Why this matters is that sometimes things and people fall through these gaps in Reality via the Uncreated Night and into Arcem. Sometimes there are also these portals called the Night Roads that form. Kind of like wormholes or stargates and they lead to other worlds. Other realities.

There isn't much rhyme or reason to who shows up here or why. Or if there is then it's not in the database. There also aren't any instructions on how to get back or even if it's possible. Vague rumors of people being able to make Night Roads but nothing concrete. Maybe some sorcerer somewhere can do it but it's not common knowledge. There also aren't any records of the people who from other worlds who travel to Arcem gaining new and strange powers or new bodies however there's bloody little in the way of info on people from other worlds in general.

Okay questions?

[QuidEst]

"Okay, so… assuming that this database knows its stuff, then even at the scale of a planet, the rules here only rhyme with physics," Vin mused. "And if people show up here from other worlds as a part of how this all works, and it's not like… a core bit of mythology here, then that's a bit of a relief. I'd rather not be somebody's 'last resort summons against impossible odds' figure of legend. That means we've got a good idea of how we got here and a good idea of what somebody would need to research to get back. Thank you, Bridget!"

[Vhaidara]

Alaron nods, half following what is said.

And does this database mention changes to those who fall into this world, or who cross the Night Roads? We all seem to have come out different than we were before.

[Recherché]

Bridget shakes her head.

No, there's no mention of people being changed of gaining powers via contact with the Uncreated Night. However there's very little information on the people coming through in general. So I thinks it's just absence of evidence not evidence of absence.

[LordHavelock]

Listening intently, but only really registering the words in that they have meaning, Red is rather out of touch with the overall context, he tries to find some sort of touchstone.

"Encroaching darkness, evil and nothingness, and travel between other worlds . . . it kind of seems like the story with the kids and 'IT'. Except, nobody had to die in that one to get to where they needed to be, they just, um, Tesseracted?"

Any disbelief or looks of incredulity, he greets with a shrug, "What, my nanny read me Wrinkle in Time when I was a kid."

Clearing his throat, he has a question of his own, "What about people having abilities like the ones we seem to have, in general? Repairing things, Mary Poppin's backpack, uh . . . Oh! A moment ago, I don't know if anyone could tell, but I was moving like the rest of you were frozen in time, only it didn't feel like I was moving fast at all. Not until everything seemed to catch up."

"I mean, I get that its magic, but does that make us all wizards or superheroes or what?"

[Recherché]

Magic is a thing here, but what we have does not seem like normal magic for the area. Most magic is sorta Game of Thrones-esque. It's rare and not super powerful. It takes years of study. In most cases casting a spell takes hours or more. There are some sorcerers who can do more Dungeons and Dragons type stuff but they're rare and again the product of decades of study. What we do does not match up with records of how magic should act.

There are indications that magic used to be a lot more powerful. It also used to be a lot more magitek and apparently there was this weird fusion of clerical divine magic and robotics that was super powerful. However that kind of magic hasn't worked quite right since whatever happened that shredded the planet.

I don't know what we are. All I know is that we aren't normal even within the local context of what "normal" is.

[Sepulchritude]

"We actually all just stood still for a couple seconds as a prank," Reagan interjects, mirth drawing her cheeks up just enough to spoil the poker face. "But seriously, this is all good to know. I don't think we should be expecting trouble—surest way to draw it to you—but one of us can go full bullet-time and we Hm expect that to take any trouble by surprise? That's a comfortable place to be."

She makes a grimace of distaste an instant later, her crinkling nose pulling her whole face along, and squints upward. "Unlike this coast," she mutters, rubbing her upper arms. There's little enough left of her shirt—a black cotton babydoll with a spine and ribcage printed on the front—to make the jostling indecent. She could have crawled through the side, so much fabric was missing, and she shouldn't have been trying to do without support in the first place. She starts a bit when her fingertips meet her side.

"Oh! Hey, what was it, Bridget? Was that a stunt you can repeat? The blacktop was hungry, looks like. And either way, we should get moving. If there's anything else to explain, we can talk and walk. Rain's gonna make us colder than you think, unless one of you can conjure a cabin."

[ylvathrall]

The walk through the icy drizzle is uncomfortable, but not outright dangerous, and the group walks across the stone-dotted moor to the southeast, soon leaving sight of the northern coastline. Two hours pass before they see the first sign of civilization: a meandering, rutted road cutting east to west through the grass. Following it east as the rain turns to sleet, it's another hour before they see another person: a cart is stopped at the side of the road, a miserable-looking woman sitting next to it with some canvas forming a lean-to over a meager fire. She's thin, nearly emaciated really, but a closer look shows her to have lean muscle on her bones and ragged scars on her arms, and those scars didn't come from farming implements, either. They look more like knife wounds. Red recognizes them instantly as cuts from a light sword, probably a small saber or something akin to a jian, not particularly deep. They cut in line with the muscle, suggesting she was in some control as she took them, and they weren't that deep - not debilitating.

She doesn't look up, but her eyes track you from under a wide-brimmed hat, her expression wary. One hand is tucked out of sight at her side, the other held out over the fire.

[QuidEst]

Well, here's hoping that translation was in effect. It seemed likely, since he was able to speak with the others. "Greetings. We're passing along- do you know how far it is to the next settlement?" Vin asked. He was curious about all the shallow wounds, and the cart, but it hardly seemed like the thing to open with.

[Sepulchritude]

Reagan, contrariwise, is not curious about the scars. This is largely because, at least at first, she doesn't notice them. She doesn't notice the muscle, either, but she does see the tension in it. Posture. Deliberate stillness, like a heron or a mantis. Reagan sees the hidden blade, though she doesn't precisely see it. The angles of the arm, what they mean for the shoulder and how much they would telegraph a throw before it happened and the arcs a knife could take from that spot to still reach the newcomers with force. And she sees the woman's awareness of all the same things, the intentionality behind the choices that made them so. It's a lot to take in at once, really.

As they walk closer, she slows to let Vin overtake her. She moves to lift the bottom of her shirt, to show where a sheath isn't hiding, but it's already high enough. She keeps her empty hands in sight, then, and lets the furry do the talking.

[ylvathrall]

"That way? Six and a half miles or so," the woman says, not moving. "Town called Branson's Ford. Tiny place. There's a fork in the road four miles up, though, and if you take the southern fork, it's another nine miles to a bigger town, Amleth." She nods slightly at Reagan, one recognizing another, and adds, "Tinker here, if you've any need for such or want a piece of the fire. Traveler's courtesy, aye?"

[QuidEst]

"Six and a half miles? I'd welcome the chance to take a break." He hadn't switched the somewhat muffled music from his phone off, but reaching for anything seemed like a bad idea right now. Maybe if he just stopped working to keep it around? A moment later, the music was gone, and he felt a subtle tension relax. Oddly, there was something of that tension still there, something he hadn't noticed before because he hadn't had anything to compare it with. "And we could probably use some basic supplies, having been on the road for a bit. I've got coin for it, as well as some food and wine I can share."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Vin's got one point semi-permanently invested in Deus Axe Machina.

[Recherché]

Thank you very much for the directions. Bridget gives a smile and short bow to the woman.

Turning to Vin Vin, I don't suppose you have a sewing kit or any money in your bag? As you might have noticed I lost all my tools and money when I had my near drowning experience and Reagan's clothes need some work if we're going to do some long distance hiking.

Bridget does a slight double take at her own words Assuming of course you're okay with me doing some customization of your pants so that they won't chafe?

[QuidEst]

Vin nodded. "Yes, I was able to keep hold of my coin purse in spite of everything- let me know if there's anything else like that that we'll need." He wasn't sure exactly what a tinker carried, but if it didn't include a sewing kit, he was way off on his guess as to what a tinker was.

[ylvathrall]

"I don't drink on the road," the tinker says, standing and going to her cart. She pulls the canvas cover aside to show a collection of boxes, baskets, and sacks. "But coin is good. I've got sewing kit here, needles and thread, thimbles, pins, snips. Anything else?"

[Vhaidara]

Alaron maintains his distance from the others, observing. He was still oddly thirsty, despite the water from earlier, and that was strange. This old woman at least seemed to not be hostile, and potentially even useful. Six miles though, that was going to be a hassle.

[Sepulchritude]

"She'll need something for leather, too," Reagan hastens to add. She makes the kind of eye contact that confirms unspoken questions, and says nothing about shears or awls. Nothing at all. What she does is distractedly fidget with her fingers as she builds a mental list. And she makes a few starts at it, too, as she considers the evidence of the cart and the canvas. "Okay. Do you have oilskin? Tallow or wax to make it? Magnes— Well, a fire flint, I guess. And I know this is a long shot, but I don't suppose you have coffee? None of us meant to be here, and it's.. going to be a very long walk home."

[ylvathrall]

The tinker lets out a short, harsh bark of laughter at the mention of coffee. "Coffee? Not bloody likely this far north. The rest, though, yes." She starts going through her cart, pulling out various items and laying them out. Reagan notes that there's no blade where she was sitting, but there is a small slit in her tunic which happens to be positioned just right for her to draw a knife from under it, and she's still keeping one hand near it and one eye on the group. Her posture is wary, though, not aggressive.

[QuidEst]

"We should probably also get two additional bags to have on hand," Vin added. "That way, we don't lose everything if something happens to mine." His own bag seemed to be magical- he was pretty sure that he was the one producing the goods, but the bag itself didn't seem to weigh nearly as much as it should for what it was carrying. But, all the more reason to not depend on it exclusively.

He found, much to his surprise, that he knew how much all of this cost as a standard purchase, and what expected markup ranges were. The ranges narrowed as he saw the specific goods she was selecting, with variance in quality being eliminated. He reached into his purse, pulling out coins corresponding to the high end of the markup ranges- she was being hospitable despite what seemed like a bad day, and even if the refresh on this money didn't work the way he hoped, he could more than afford it. So no database, but he did have price indices… interesting. "I believe this should cover it," he said, holding out the money once she's done collecting the requested items.

[LordHavelock]

Watching the transaction and the exchange, smile plastered on his features, happy to find the first signs of life in this new world of "romance and adventure" as he sees it. It only grows strained however as everything seems to be more or less what he would be used to at food truck, just with a little extra flair. Though curious about how it sprang to his mind what could have made those scars on her arms, Red is more or less unnerved by the prospect of it. Without thinking of himself as a violent person, the association seems abstract, removed from his way of thought. Besides, it's hardly a subject for polite conversation. Waiting for her to produce a few wares and then watching as Vin appears to have coin on hand to pay, he can't help but think he doesn't even have a toothbrush.

"So . . . know anywhere some capable folks could, I don't know, right a few wrongs, slay a few monsters, that sort of thing?" Jovial and with a look of absolute earnest he tries his best to give the appearance of someone trustworthy, knowledgeable, confident, despite not knowing a single thing he's talking about. It worked in business, might well work here. At the last moment he glances down towards the scars on her arms, unable to suppress curiosity, wondering if he can identify more about what could have done it. Without any pre-existing knowledge of knives or swords or the like, it was almost alien to him how he could vividly imagine what sort of weapon would make such marks.

[ylvathrall]

The tinker looks at Red like she thinks he might be a bit dim. "It's the Bleak Moor," she says, like someone talking to a child. "You realize this, yes? We're talking about a place where a tinker has to go armed in case of bandits. I woke up this morning and there was nothing left of my mule but some bloodstains. Think one of the Uncreated got her, poor thing. You want to slay monsters? Take your pick, friend, there's no shortage." She looks at Vin's coin with a discerning eye, then nods and sweeps the items into a burlap bag, handing it to him along with an empty one.

Looking at it more, Red is absolutely certain the marks were made by something very like a jian, a slender double-edged sword used mostly for thrusting but which has the potential for slashing as well. It was being used to slash in this case, but again, he's very sure the cuts were shallow and the woman was in control of how the blade cut - she was defending herself, and effectively.

[Recherché]

Wincing at Red, Bridget apologizes for him.

Sorry, he's never been anywhere without Wi-Fi before let alone without electricity and running water.

If Tinker takes that as them being from the Bright Republic then good. It's not a lie exactly. Just a slight misdirection.

Turning to her moron of a companion Red, this is not a video game. This is a real place and a really dangerous place. If we go looking for trouble we will find it and it will hurt. Unless you have actual training on how to use a weapon and an actual weapon, I suggest that we just to get back home as soon as possible. Hells, even if you do somehow know how to use a sword,I still want to get to civilization before we get stabbed. Or eaten by the Uncreated like that mule.

By the by, you really think there's an Uncreated around? Bridget shivers with anxiety and fear at the information she's getting from the database on the Uncreated. We ran into something we thought might be a night road a little ways north, but we weren't sure. Definitely something from the Far Realms though.

[ylvathrall]

"I think so," the tinker mutters darkly. "Something ate the mule, killed it fast enough and quiet enough that it didn't wake me. Tracks weren't any animal I've heard of. So it's either Uncreated, or it came from a Far Realm and it acts like one. Not much difference to me. If there's a Night Road nearby, that tracks. Hell's bells, that is not what I need."

[Recherché]

I can't truthfully say that I know what's going on. Bridget grimace in sympathy. All I can say for sure is that something very strange happened, Red and I went into the water and nearly drowned. When we finally got to shore, we were surrounded by stuff from the far realms and we didn't have a ship or any trade goods. Not even any wreckage. Well, except for Vin who somehow managed to hang onto one bag.

[QuidEst]

"Safety in numbers sounds better than nothing, and I'd rather have a structure to use as cover… no good being surrounded. Can we see if we can move the cart as a group?" Vin asked. He was pretty sure that a mule was no more than three time better than a person, but he wasn't sure how coordination would work. Probably better as two rows? "I'm sure that-" he stopped himself. "Right, introductions. I'm Vin," he said.