If Jarris meets Sherine out and about in Keford, it's probably as she's ... greeting a building. "That's one of my favorites." He nods to the building she's closest to.
Sherine looks up at the building Jarris indicates. "Oh, yes. He's very nice. He likes you too, you know."
"I don't have any sisters, just a slew of older brothers." Her forehead knits up in thought, "But nope, none of their wives ever used nicknames."
"What age was Ollos from? Was his following regional or more global?" A moment of thought then, "Was his plague aspect directed or indiscriminate?"
Panamax runs his hands through his damp hair and wrings water out of it (for all the good it does in the drizzle).
"What age is the Clock from? What age the Sea? It is said that Ollos came before the Sixth Age. Ollos' following girdles the globe but exists in small pockets. It's more common where flesh warps without husbandry."
Panamax shakes his hand, as if saying no to the last bit of Nalo's questions. "I am translating this in my head as I am talking, and I may have misspoken. Ollos' followers consider the plague aspect to be Ollos' Blessing."
"In Standifer, there is a word for a person who might be male or female or both or neither or something else entirely, but nobody knows because we are all afraid to ask. It is a word used almost exclusively for the gods. I do not know how to translate that word."
"How many is a slew?"
oh Nalo's cheeks darken a bit though she tries to hide it by wiping the dripping waste from her face. A rueful smile and a shrug, "We have a word for them, māhū, and they are often associated with more than mundane."
"I should have listened more carefully to your words."
"Is their plague not an illness? Or why do the faithful see it a blessing?"
"Six. I guess that might not really be a slew but it feels it when we're all in a rim together."
"When I sleep or for my life?"
Kilo grins, "Both!" He may not have been thinking that beforehand, but now that she's brought it up, he apparently likes that question even better.
Panamax perks up when he hears that Nalo has a special word. "Did you speak a different tongue when you were growing up? Or just have certain special words?"
"Ollos' worship happens where there is a lot of flesh warping. The worshipers see it as a sign of Ollos' favor. Non-worshipers see that as a plague. Sometimes the worshipers seek out the non-worshipers and tear them apart and sew the bits onto themselves. That's why I admonished the pirate not to sully himself with others."
Panamax puts his hand up to his chin, and it slips off in the rain. "Maybe I could have phrased that better. But I didn't want to say don't rip limbs off other people in front of everyone. It's not polite."
"My mother's family speaks a different language, but I'm not fluent." A smile, "Mostly just the certain words that didn't make sense otherwise."
Nalo's forehead knits, water dripping into one eye which she blinks furiously, "Maybe you should look up your pirate and clarify when we get back to Keford." Her head cocks to the side, "Plus sewing foreign bits on wouldn't seem to be fleshwarping since there is no melding of the individual into something new or truly incorporating something foreign into themselves. Not something I'd want to be blessed or cursed with, but religion can do odd things to otherwise sane people."
"Is it because of Ollos that you use an abundance of healing to defend yourself, or did you discover them because your own ability was similar to their cur..blessing?"
A long pause, so long that most would be fooled into thinking she fell asleep, but Makani can tell her breathing is still the same, "I want to see things that no one else has."
Once Tavene manages to start a small, smokey fire from the wet wood, Nalo claims a place by it, eagerly waiting for water to heat for a warm drink to heat her from the inside. When Anson comes by she offers a bright smile that is ruined by the shivering of her teeth, "I almost wish we had kept the coconut, imagining its warmth is not working to keep me warm in reality."
Once Tavene manages to start a small, smokey fire from the wet wood, Nalo claims a place by it, eagerly waiting for water to heat for a warm drink to heat her from the inside. When Anson comes by she offers a bright smile that is ruined by the shivering of her teeth, "I almost wish we had kept the coconut, imagining its warmth is not working to keep me warm in reality."
Anson shrugs, settling down by the fire. His old leathers cover him from neck to toe, and seem to be doing a decent job of keeping him dry, even if he does creak like an old rocking chair. "No matter which we'd taken, we'd regret it the moment it was needed. Just try to think of this moment when you're using the staff. Being miserable in a campsite is always fun in retrospect, just never in the moment."
"In sleep, I can't tell if my dreams are my mind's way of working through my own thoughts or prophecy of things yet to come, but I try to remember them. Even have a little book where I write them when I have time on waking."
Kilo looks thoughtful as he considers her words, "That's a good idea." he says, then adds "Can I see it?"
A long pause, so long that most would be fooled into thinking she fell asleep, but Makani can tell her breathing is still the same, "I want to see things that no one else has."
Another pause, though not nearly as long as hers. His head shifts slightly, so that he can look at her face out of the corners of his eyes, "I think I would like to help you do that U'i, if you will have me that is." he says earnestly.
Kilo rises from where he is setting up his pot to boil water. He removes it, setting it aside to catch more rain and be out of the way, walks over to Nalu and places his cloak around her shoulders with the hood up and over her still dripping hair, then wordlessly returns to the fire. He waves the others away, but waits only a moment before pumping more oxygen into and around the coals, trying to coax the flames higher. He glances over at the small pile of logs meant to last the rest of the night to make sure the shelter is keeping then dry.
Panamax nods his comprehension. "It's not a rational thing to do. And I discovered that I could heal in multiple fashions first. Ollos is not particularly relevant to my life until a few days ago."
Panamax squints up into the sky. "I think maybe it's letting up," he says hopefully.
And frowns when it does not, in fact, let up.
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walks over to Nalu and places his cloak around her shoulders with the hood up and over her still dripping hair, then wordlessly returns to the fire
Nalo makes a muffled sound of surprise as the cloak is dumped over her head. She struggles a bit too free an arm from the heavy leather pushing back the hood enough to see. "I'm not five anymore Makani, I was taking steps to warm up." Despite the salty tone, she doesn't push off the cloak which is, after all, dry. "Your cloak is going to get all wet."
Anson shrugs, settling down by the fire. His old leathers cover him from neck to toe, and seem to be doing a decent job of keeping him dry, even if he does creak like an old rocking chair. "No matter which we'd taken, we'd regret it the moment it was needed. Just try to think of this moment when you're using the staff. Being miserable in a campsite is always fun in retrospect, just never in the moment."
"Ah yes, fun memories of mimicking a drenched kitten." She pours a bit of the barely heated water into a serviceable travel mug and sips it, focusing on the warmth. "First job I had was down south, a quick jaunt into the desert to duplicate old star charts carved into the stones." Her shivers, which had stopped, return with remembered vengeance, "It may have been dry but it was freezing even in the dead middle of day." A smile, "Nadine made the best chocolate drink with a kick of heat from pepper."
Nalo's head cocks to one side, considering Anson, "Does this make you rethink of one of your old camps?"
Nalo's head cocks to one side, considering Anson, "Does this make you rethink of one of your old camps?"
"Not especially, no."
Nalo turns to look at Anson, bemused expression in her face changing to one of consideration as she looks at the goggled man. "Can yo..." the words die on her lips as she reconsiders, a bare glance at her hands where the silver traces are invisible in the dark.
"What is a ghost in the machine?"
Anson leans back, thinking the question over. "There are different schools of thought. Some think they're literal ghosts. Spirits of the dead left over in the machines of the ancients. Some think they're the thoughts of the machine itself, still functioning, perhaps in diminished capacity, over the millennia. Some think they are either people or bits of machine consciousness lingering from some previous intrusion. Short answer? I imagine each ghost is something slightly different, but I'm no expert."
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Jarris looks thrilled at Nalo's comment about the cheese shop. "It's an amazing place. If travelers only make one stop in Keford, I strongly advise they make that stop Arbella's Yellow. Anson recalls well; the wheel of cheese there is boasted to be one of the biggest in the northern kingdoms."
He leads the way, heading towards the southern side of the market. At this time of night, a surprising amount of stores are still open. A small crowd of people mill about the market, making purchases or just chatting with each other in the streets.
The shop is easy to find and only has one other customer in it at the moment. And the giant cheese wheel is impossible to miss; it takes up the center floor, with many smaller cheeses displayed artfully around it. The cheesemonger looks happy to see a group of three enter the shop. "Good evening, good evening! Would you..." the woman does a second take when her eyes land on Jarris. "Oh hello Miz Oran. You and your friends are welcome to sample whatever you'd like. Just let me know and I'll cut a few pieces!"
Jarris smiles and tips his hat to her. "Ever my favorite cheesemongress, Edaline. Thanks for your generosity." He turns to his companions. "This really is my favorite shop."
"I certainly do!" Jarris says, sweeping a hand towards the open door of his shelter. If Panamax just glances inside the space, he'll see at least two chairs, a bed, and a desk. If he pops his head inside, he sees that the space is clearly bigger than it ought to be and could pretty comfortably house two people, 3-4 if they didn't mind being a little cramped. "The things I had to do to obtain this luxury," he says, shaking his head.
As soon as the glowglobe is gently tossed into the darkness, you get just a few seconds of light before the globe disappears. And in those seconds, it's a beautiful riot of colors, shifting like an oil slick in a puddle.
"Okay, it could just be me," Ceri starts, sounding excited, "but I definitely want to go in after the globe." She turns to face Anson and Nalo. "But let's go get the others."
Nalo is bouncing on the toes of her feet as she watches the cacophony of colors. "Kilo went to get them, so they should be here any minute."
"They'd be right behind us."
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Once the party is gathered and ready to journey forth, Ceri is all but dancing in front of the cave. Tavene follows the group at their backs, keeping an eye on everyone and an eye behind to make sure she isn't about to be ambushed.
The cave looks like any other, but Jarris watches the mouth of the cave with something approaching concern when he sees the illusion drop away, revealing the two statues in front of the darkness.
"Okay! So, Nalo tossed a glowglobe into that darkness," Ceri points at said darkness, "and it disappeared. I'm happy to go first if anyone is worried about what's on the other end, and... hopefully I could come back and tell you? Otherwise, I'm open to suggestion on how to move forward here."
Numenera (trained)
Reading people
Anson doesn't bother to wait. With a decent amount of caution -- he's used to traps and the like -- he heads inside.
And Nalo who had barely been waiting to go in is right on Anson's heels.
Panamax absolutely takes Jarris up on his offer to wait in the tent in chairs.
"What it was, it was worth it," Panamax says.
Panamax watches Anson and Nalo walk into the darkness. "I ... guess we're going in, then?"
Panamax gestures to Ceri, politely. "After you."
Panamax watches Anson and Nalo walk into the darkness. "I ... guess we're going in, then?"
Nalo looks back over her shoulder with an excited smile, "Course! How else will we find out what's in the ancient cloaked building? "
She turns the rest of her body walking backwards for a moment as she notices something else. "What's wrong, Jarris?"
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Panamax absolutely takes Jarris up on his offer to wait in the tent in chairs.
"What it was, it was worth it," Panamax says.
Jarris nods. "Oh yes, it absolutely was. Especially after the moonlight mating incident." He pours a mug of something steaming out of a thermos on the desk. "Tea?"
Anson doesn't bother to wait. With a decent amount of caution -- he's used to traps and the like -- he heads inside.
Panamax gestures to Ceri, politely. "After you."
Ceri pouts a little when Anson disappears into the darkness, but brightens considerably when Panamax speaks. "Such a gentle..." she pauses. "Gentleperson." Her bow is exaggerated but her glee isn't as she skips towards the entrance.
She turns the rest of her body walking backwards for a moment as she notices something else. "What's wrong, Jarris?"
Jarris puts on a smile and shakes his head. "I've seen a lot of things in my travels. I love telling stories of my adventures, and even more, I love hearing stories from other people." He hesitates. "I'm still a little hesitant to head into caves. Or possible caves." He moves forward to stand beside Nalo. "But this is a large group, and I think I'd rather suffer the minor discomfort with you all than to sit up here alone." He leans forward. "Thank you for asking."
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In the space between locations, you all experience what can best be described as a color bath. Whether or not your eyes are closed, you clearly see the colors. Some of you may even smell mint. Whether or not you'd find this frightening, you end up safe and sound in a large, mostly empty room.
Each wall is about fifty feet long, with no particular markings or indications of where you've turned up. There's some debris on the floor, as well as unidentifiable machinery, consoles, and panels. Everything is made of metal, including the debris on the floor. There are gentle lights dotting the wall just above the tallest person's head.
The glowglobe Nalo tossed into the darkness is floating near the edge of the room, underneath one of the native room lights. It looks undamaged and is still glowing brightly.
"Excellent." Ceri has pulled down her hood, and her eyes glitter in the dim light of the chamber. She wanders over to one of the piles of debris and starts sifting through it.
"I'm still a little hesitant to head into caves. Or possible caves." He moves forward to stand beside Nalo.
Nalo, who never stopped moving, grabs Jarris's hand with a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry. It's an ancient building whose force field is failing." And moves with him into the darkness just ahead of Ceri.
Jarris appears in the room with his eyes closed tightly, squeezing Nalo's hand. He lets his hand drop when they appear safely in the room, regaining his composure almost immediately.
"Ancient buildings are definitely a step in the right direction." He says, looking up at the lights around the walls of the room.
2) Looking for any writing or marking on the walls
3) Checking out the machines for function indicators
4) Any indications of what age this might all be from? *trained this is functionally a difficulty 6
5) How the heck do we get out of here?
Nalo looks around with a brilliant smile before moving over to the glowglobe. She moves it around the room with her, taking advantage of the brighter light source, unless she sees someone else needs it. She doesn't touch any of the machinery, but she looks for markings and indications of function and age.
Then with a puzzled look she examines all the walls again.
Panamax looks around at the machinery and the debris. "Huh," he says in the tones of one obviously trying not to sound disappointed.
"Let me know if you see anything written down," he says. He pokes at a piece of debris with his toe. It does not magically turn into something interesting.
1)
2) You notice nothing on the walls other than maybe a few scratches.
3) Only a few of the machines in the room seem like they aren't dead or junked; there's a panel on the far wall that you are pretty sure is something that would open a door there, even if you can't see a door.
4)
5) See 3 :D
Jarris wanders over to a wall nearest Panamax, prodding the metal there. "I don't see anything written down, but we could certainly write something down and make it more interesting! Know any bawdy poetry?" He pulls a pointy tool out of his pocket and waggles his eyebrows. He also pulls out a dull piece of dark material. "Or we could use this, to make it less permanent, if you're worried about defacing someone else's hidden room."
"I'm glad to hear it!" He grins. "So, how did you get into the business of greeting and speaking with buildings?"
Sherine looks at Jarris with a perplexed expression, as if she had been asked "how did you get into the business of breathing oxygen?"
"I guess most people just don't listen, or they'd hear the buildings speaking to them, hoping for conversation. If they could only hear them, they'd see how rude they're being by not speaking back. Buildings can sometimes be so lonely, if they're not in a city with other buildings to talk to."
Panamax thinks for a moment. "I do not feel the need to make a permanent mark on the walls. I do know some poetry. Do you want it in the original, or should I translate?"
Sherine quietly follows Anson and Nalo inside.
Otherwise she is hanging out leaning on the wall near the possible panel.
re #4 - thank you. I just want something to jump off of when I talk to the other PCs so that is perfect. She is now hoping for more identifiable historic clues in the later rooms :)
Wide-eyed, Sherine wanders the area. She ends up walking up to one of the walls. She gently caresses it and speaks softly to it.
"I guess most people just don't listen, or they'd hear the buildings speaking to them, hoping for conversation. If they could only hear them, they'd see how rude they're being by not speaking back. Buildings can sometimes be so lonely, if they're not in a city with other buildings to talk to."
"I think the same is true of a lot of people. I'm glad there's at least one person to listen to all the voices in a city, not just those of the people."
Panamax thinks for a moment. "I do not feel the need to make a permanent mark on the walls. I do know some poetry. Do you want it in the original, or should I translate?"
"Hmm," he hands over the charcoal stick, "I think the original, and then I'd hear the translation after, if we have time."
"Poor thing," says Sherine somewhat sadly. "I don't think anyone has spoken to him in ages. He doesn't have the strength to speak more than a whisper."
She calls over to Panamax. "Panamax, can you recite your Poem of Introduction to the Room? It might help him gather his strength to talk with us."
"One moment," Panamax says to Jarris.
Panamax walks over to the wall that Sherine has been speaking to.
He bows to it and speaks quietly.
Sono Panamax, per essere determinato;
Figlio di Panama, che si erge in Occidente e non fa mai;
Figlia di Panam, che ha scatenato il Fuoco della Luna dalle sue ferite;
Figlia di Pana, carne al circuito, circuito all'osso, osso alla cenere;
Cacciato di Pan, tre in uno, che era tutto a tutte le persone;
Bambino di Pa, le cui mani erano macchiate di blu con il sangue degli schiavi;
Figlio di P, che è Madre per tutti noi, una volta, sempre, per sempre.
Panamax nods to Sherine.
Anson lights up -- not literally -- when he sees the room. He rushes over to the machinery and begins to investigate.
Panamax walks back over to Jarris and recites,
"un uccello in mano
vale la pena due nel cespuglio
se troverai un uccello
Ho qui un robusto garretto"
"a bird in the hand
is worth two in the bush
and if you find a bird there
I have a sturdy perch here"
The machinery is old, but well built. There are no cobwebs to date the structure for you, no layers of dust to count the rings in, but the machinery still speaks to you in its silent, droning language.
Help. Help. Help.
The consoles can't be pried open, at least not from anywhere you can see, and the original purpose of most of the machinery is not discernible to you. However, since you've spent enough time in places like this... you are fairly confident that the lone panel on the wall probably reveals a door out of the room. Hell, even if you didn't spend time in places like this, what monster puts a panel on a wall that doesn't open a door?
Judging from the stuff scattered around the room, you'd hazard a guess that it used to contain something. Maybe this was a place of learning, of science? It certainly doesn't feel very cozy. But maybe people from the Seventh World were really into the metal aesthetic?
At the end of your tour, pretty much the only points of interest for you in the room are the panel by the door and maybe some of the piles of debris that Ceri is currently playing in.
Jarris claps his hands together. "Oh, excellent." He writes the approximation of the poem on the wall, probably botching some of the spelling. His handwriting is elegant and a pleasant contrast to the metal all around you. "I hadn't heard that one before. Did you make it up, or hear it in a tavern somewhere?"
Once he's finished writing the poem, he slips the writing utensils back into his pockets.
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Ceri looks up from her pile of debris to watch Anson excitedly poking at machines, and a little smile curls the corners of her lips.
She's created a little pile of things next to her; there's something that looks like a remote with two buttons on it, a sphere the size of a cherry, and something flat and thin in a transparent wrapper. She waves at it with a hand while sorting through the debris with the other.
"You guys are welcome to this stuff, if you want." She sounds distracted, clearly looking for something specific in the old world's leftovers.
Sherine caresses the wall some more. Quietly she says to it, "I am sorry you've been alone for so long with no one to talk to. But we're here now."
She presses her ear very close to the wall, hoping to hear better.
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Tavene leans against one of the walls, scanning the room as everyone mills about or explores the electronics. At one point, she walks over and crouches down next to Ceri.
Ceri gives Tavene elevator eyes. "If there's anything obviously for a fight, sure, I'll let you know. Do you have something under the hood you keep secret?" Ceri raises her eyebrows suggestively, to which Tavene looks flustered and shakes her head.
"I don't like women."
Ceri looks confused, then lets out an abrupt laugh.
"No, no, I meant... are you like me?" She tugs at the high collar of her shirt, revealing something no one else can see unless they're standing over Ceri. Tavene hesitates, then nods.
"I train, but I also know the benefit of what was created in worlds before us."
Ceri nods again. "If I find anything, I'll let you know."
When she walks away, she looks pleased with the outcome of the conversation with Ceri, then moves to stand next to Kilo.
"What do you do, to entertain yourself in places like this?"
"You guys are welcome to this stuff, if you want." She sounds distracted, clearly looking for something specific in the old world's leftovers.
Nalo moves away from the spot that she was guarding when Anson gets to that area. Moving over she kneels near the purple-haired woman, "What are you looking for?"
Then she smiles, "I like the metal underlights you have."
His handwriting is elegant and a pleasant contrast to the metal all around you. "I hadn't heard that one before. Did you make it up, or hear it in a tavern somewhere?"
"I heard it somewhere," Panamax says. "I like to immerse myself to learn a language."
Panamax walks over to the pile of Ceri's discarded junk. He cocks his head to one side, then the other. He pulls out the thing which is flat and thin (and wrapped in plastic) and examines it.
Panamax is careful not to talk too close to Sherine as she is listening to the wall.