A little while after the unfortunate Elina-related incident on the Day of Remembrance, Yasin goes to Sassafrass with the (latest) bad news about her trunk of books....
* * * * *
[St Loomis, Brindle the Tinker's Shop]
Nothing if not aesthetically busy, this small shop is barely the size of an inn room and stuffed to the brim with all manner of useful supplies. Shelves, racks, and tables fill the space inside to the extent that it is difficult to weave in between all the objects for sale without fear of upsetting any of the piles. A faint mustiness seeps down from the thatch, and the packed earth floor is scuffed by the tread of countless customers.
A hardware rack stands at the back of the store.
Cardinal Exits:
Other: out: tinker shop door (open)
You remove a long strip of linen.
You put a long strip of linen in a pale leather satchel.
A gangling postal worker arrives.
A gangling postal worker delivers a folded page torn from a book to you.
A gangling postal worker arrives.
A gangling postal worker delivers a page torn from a book to you.
You squint at a folded page torn from a book cautiously.
(Quietly): You mutter, "Ugh, what is this? As if I were going to unfold it and look.." [in Sirdabi with a wispy soprano]
You have emoted: Sassafrass stares at a folded page torn from a book, looking as if she nevertheless very much wants to do just that.
Yasin walks into a tinkerer's store through the tinker shop door, taking hesitant, heavy-footed steps.
You have emoted: Sassafrass flicks sharply at a folded page torn from a book with one finger before simply putting it away in her satchel.
You put a folded page torn from a book in a pale leather satchel.
It is evening, the hour of evensong.
You have emoted: Looking up from her satchel, Sassafrass gives a small start on seeing Yasin.
Yasin pokes his head into the tinker's shop, looking as if he'd spied you and the great collection of pages from out by Post Street. He dips his head awkwardly, and gives a gently spoken -- and oddly, hesitantly-spoken, "Hello. Good evening." [in Sirdabi with a calm and quiet bass-baritone]
You have emoted: "Did you send that!" [in Sirdabi] Sassafrass hisses at Yasin, jabbing her finger at something in her satchel, possibly whatever she just put in there.
"I... think so." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says to you. "If it is a sketch of what I think it is." [in Sirdabi]
"I sent that, certainly." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says to you, pointing at the *other* page in you hand.
You have emoted: Sassafrass frowns more narrowly at Yasin then, having caught something in his expression or tone. "I see," [in Sirdabi] she says after a moment. "Well I don't like to even *look* too hard at anything like this, because all it takes is a glance." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass squints sidelong at a page torn from a book.
A gangling postal worker departs.
A gangling postal worker departs.
Yasin winces at your explanation, then gives a slow nod. "I apologize," [in Sirdabi] he says. "There is... no writing. Only the drawing. I..." [in Sirdabi] He quiets a moment, as if choosing his words.
"I thought it the best way to reach you." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says to you afterwards.
You have emoted: Sassafrass make a quiet hmmphing noise, then shifts her gaze back to Yasin. Observing him with misgiving, she ventures, "Did that... person you spoke of last time make another appearance?" [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass reaches up to pluck restlessly at a natural-hued lambswool veil, eyes flickering around nervously before coming back to Yasin.
"She did." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says to you with a growing frown and something about his eyes that makes both his apprehension and his frustration obvious. With an exhaled breath, he says, "Several times. And she's been... problematic." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass frowns harder at Yasin, shaking her head. "What does she even truly *want*?" [in Sirdabi] she asks, sounding mystified and also a little bit frustrated.
Yasin looks around uncomfortably at the question from you. He eyes any patrons that might be milling about, then his eyes flit to the open shop door. He looks back to you.
You have emoted: Sassafrass huffs out a sigh at Yasin. "We need to go somewhere.. quieter, I suppose?" [in Sirdabi]
"I would recommend it." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says to you, nodding slowly.
You have emoted: Sassafrass grumbles with a flicker of a glance further into the shop, "Brindle won't be pleased if I'm loitering about not working, anyway." [in Sirdabi] She sighs again.
You fall in with Yasin.
A hunched, elder woman walks into a tinkerer's store through the tinker shop door.
Yasin looks around about the shop one final time at your glance, then seems right about to head out the door when a hunched, elder woman walks in. He almost 'bonks' into a hunched, elder woman, and he stops short like a rolling stone that had been forced to a screeching halt.
You have emoted: Sassafrass's eyes narrow sharply at a hunched, elder woman, a look of muted dislike mingling with the generalized distrust already there.
A hunched, elder woman hobbles her way in wearing an annoyed frown. It's not directed at Yasin at first, but he certainly doesn't seem to help the matter. She mutters out, "Excuse me," [in Sirdabi with a sweet, shaky soprano] and steps right on past toward a hardware rack.
A hunched, elder woman goes to stand near a hardware rack.
After Yasin composes himself from that almost-bonk, he gives a hunched, elder woman a narrow-eyed look and he says her name in a neutral, flat tone. "Firouzeh." [in Sirdabi] He then just walks riiiight on out of the shop afetr a little huff of frustrated breath.
You have emoted: Sassafrass makes a sharp 'tch' out of the corner of her mouth and mutters to Yasin, "Let's be off. I've no use for meddlesome truth-breaking old women." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin starts towards the frame of the open tinker shop door. (Stand - near the frame of the open tinker shop door -)
Sassafrass follows Yasin. (Stand - near the frame of the open tinker shop door -)
You have emoted: Sassafrass tilts her chin up as she goes, managing to look rather impressively haughty for one so shabby.
A hunched, elder woman rolls her eyes then continues her browsing.
Yasin hesitates slightly at your sass, but doesn't reply to it other than a quick glance and a continued movement out of the shop.
Yasin walks out of a tinkerer's store through the tinker shop door, with heavy footfalls.
You walk out of a tinkerer's store through the tinker shop door.
[St Loomis, Post Street]
This street is paved with well-traveled cobblestone, the slightly raised curbs flanked by neat thatched structures of wood and stone that house well-to-do residents of the town such as merchants and skilled craftsmen. Protruding only slightly over the street, half-timbered upper stories rub shoulders in genteel fashion without crowding out the sky. Directly across from the intersection with Tolland Place, a tiny store sits on the south side of the street, its windows full of hanging cookware and lanterns.
Yasin is here.
Fog lingers with a misty eeriness.
Cardinal Exits: west, east, and north
Other: a tinkerer's store: tinker shop door (open)
Yasin walks east, with heavy footfalls.
You walk east.
Yasin walks east, with heavy footfalls.
You walk east.
[St Loomis, Beacon Row]
Even a passing examination readily reveals these ill-constructed tenements as homes for the poorer workers of the city, most of them destined for precarious employment at the docks or in other seasonal jobs. Winding amidst the leaky and crumbling structures with seemingly little purpose or plan, the streets and alleys are pitted with holes that pose a peril to any but the sturdiest cart wheel. Laundry that never quite seems able to shed its dingy grey flaps overhead, saluting the occasional pig or goat combing the muck in search of a morsel of garbage.
Yasin is here.
Fog lingers with a misty eeriness. Faint scorch marks can be seen hereabouts, barely noticeable.
Cardinal Exits: west, east, and southeast
Yasin walks east, with heavy footfalls.
You walk east.
Yasin walks northwest, with heavy footfalls.
You walk northwest.
[St Loomis, Painter Street]
The shambling structures grow denser the further into the housing block one goes, already narrow streets wasting away to mere muddy paths between the rough pine buildings. This particular path zigzags along the natural slope of the hillside, past broken crates and bits of frayed rope. Even on a sunny day the neighborhood seems to keep a faded gloom wrapped around itself, the grey and rotting planks and mildewed thatch an indelible reminder of cold seaside rains.
Yasin is here.
Fog lingers with a misty eeriness.
Cardinal Exits: southeast and north
Other: a ramshackle, thatched-roof tenement: rickety pine door (open)
Yasin leads you down a familiar route, towards the Flats. He's silent for the journey, a lingering frown on his face.
Yasin walks into a ramshackle, thatched-roof tenement through the rickety pine door, with heavy footfalls.
You walk into a ramshackle, thatched-roof tenement through the rickety pine door.
[Locale of St Loomis, Gullbeak Flats, Stairwell]
Immediately before the entrance door is a dank stairwell, lit only by a few wall sconces that bear smoky and ever-dwindling tapers. The wooden stairs rise upward through the wattle-and-daub structure, fitted clumsily against the timber framing of the walls in rectilinear fashion, with narrow landings for each set of doors. Imperfectly built, the heights of the risers are uneven between one step and the next, and the treads slanted, saggy, or battered. Past the bottom floor, one can duck beneath the first flight of stairs and pass through into a dim reception area.
A notice titled 'Carpenter Wanted' is posted on the wall.
Yasin is here.
Cardinal Exits: west
Other: out: rickety pine door (open)
Yasin walks over to a door.
You follow over to a door.
Yasin approaches the closed rectangular pinewood door.
Yasin unlocks a bolt lock in the rectangular pinewood door while it is closed.
Yasin unlocks a familiar-looking door, opens it, and walks inside still with that same lingering frown. He seems particularly apprehensive as he walks inside. Maybe it's that heavy looking a coal-stained sack he's got over his shoulder.
Yasin opens the rectangular pinewood door.
You have emoted: Sassafrass frowns warily at her surroundings, although her misgivings seem to be slightly less than the first time she was here.
Yasin walks away through the rectangular pinewood door, with heavy footfalls.
You walk through the rectangular pinewood door.
[St Loomis, Gullbeak Flats, A Cramped, Single-Room Flat]
This unassuming room is rather dingy and small. It has a single small square window across from the entrance door, and a few grubby bronze wall sconces for candles. The floor is made of greying planks, protesting with screeches and groans when stepped on, somewhat misshapen by age and damp. White limewashing peels in flakes from the timber-framed cob walls. When the wind blows too hard, it feels as if the entire structure creaks.
A battered wooden crate is lined up against the southern wall. (x4) A scuffed wooden box is set on the floor near a flawed glass window. Also a bronze-clasped trunk of heavy dark leather and an ordinary canvas-covered trunk are here.
Yasin is here.
Cardinal Exits: west: rectangular pinewood door (open)
Just as last time, Yasin closes the door, but does not lock it. He steps away from it, as if to indicate his visitor may leave at any time.
Yasin approaches the frame of the open rectangular pinewood door.
Yasin closes the rectangular pinewood door.
Yasin steps away from the westward direction, leaving.
You have emoted: Sassafrass scans the room quickly yet carefully, her eyes swiftly seeking out an ordinary canvas-covered trunk and then lingering there for a moment, carefully.
Yasin looks to you and says with a gesture towards an ordinary canvas-covered trunk. "This isn't easy to say, so I'm just going to say it." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Only after having secured her trunk with her gaze does Sassafrass turn her attention back to Yasin. "Yes?" [in Sirdabi] she asks, apprehension creeping back into her voice.
Yasin takes a breath, lets it out, and his right hand begins to fidget with a small steel hammer poking out from a pouch at his apron. "This woman, Elina is her name. She found out about the trunk, and knew enough to go poking about the flats while a group of us had left the town for..." [in Sirdabi] He makes a vague gesture. "...Remembrance Day." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass draws in a sharp little breath, eyes widening even as the flicker over to an ordinary canvas-covered trunk, then back to Yasin. "B-but... they're still there, so.. she doesn't know where to come find them, yet?" [in Sirdabi]
Yasin shakes his head. "I dare not open the trunk, but from my judge of its weight, a few have gone missing." [in Sirdabi] A pause. "She *said* she wanted to study them, and had been growing more and more aggressive about her asks to the one of our group that has been... ensnared. She either picked the lock or... got inside through some other means." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass sways a little on her feet as the color drains from her face, but she shakes her head in denial. "No... no, that can't have happened. If, if anyone took the books, they would be cursed too. Who would dare touch them, if they know anything of their power?" [in Sirdabi]
Yasin swallows at that drain of color from you. He has guilt in his eyes, and briefly averts them to look away at the window. While looking away he murmurs, "Is that how it works? You take them and you're cursed? I assumed you had to try and concentrate on them, or..." [in Sirdabi] He trails off a moment.
You have emoted: Sassafrass shakes her head at Yasin, and then keeps shaking it as if she could dismiss the entire situation so easily. "No, you don't need to do anything, just open the trunk and rest your eyes on a line of text.." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin looks back to you. "She's dangerous. And powerful. And for some reason she *very much* wanted to study this curse." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass persists, "But she can't really have taken them. She can't. Why would she take a few, and leave others?" [in Sirdabi]
Yasin listens to you and gives a slow nod as if he's comprehending her words. He adds on, "She *has* claimed that she's returned them. But I don't know where she's left them." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin adds on, "The artist spent almost the entirety of their evening yesterday searching every inch of the town. I demanded that the one who is speaking with her to ask *where*," [in Sirdabi] and this word, this emphasis, is spoken with frustration, "...she left them." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Unable to keep her attention focused on Yasin, Sassafrass's gaze returns inexorably to an ordinary canvas-covered trunk. She stares at it fixedly, still looking very pale.
You have emoted: Only seeming to half hear Yasin, Sassafrass says faintly, yet with a steely strain in her voice, "I have to look inside." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin swallows, then nods to you. "Okay." [in Sirdabi] He says, quietly. "Should I look... away?" [in Sirdabi] He does so, anyway. He looks at the window again.
You have emoted: Voice flattening, Sassafrass says, "Yes. Don't look." [in Sirdabi] Then she starts towards the trunk, her steps slow and deliberate despite the urgency in her eyes.
Yasin does as requested. He looks hard at a flawed glass window and lets out a breath, before it stills and quiets.
You have emoted: Sassafrass kneels down near an ordinary canvas-covered trunk as she slips a tiny key out of her thawb.
You have emoted: Sassafrass fits a tiny tarnished brass key carefully to the lock, then stops and lets out a shaky breath. Her eyes squeeze shut for a moment as she remains frozen in place.
Yasin steals the briefest of glances towards you and the trunk, then he looks away once more.
With dull horror, you think: It's not locked. But.. no, it could still have been unlocked from the meddling old woman. It doesn't mean anything more is gone...
(Quietly): You have emoted: Sassafrass breathes softly, "It isn't locked," [in Sirdabi] and opens her eyes again. She gulps quietly, and puts out her hands to lift the lid.
"No, but that's probably from Firouzeh's... breaking into it in the first place." [in Sirdabi] Yasin murmurs.
You have emoted: A small noise escapes Sassafrass as she lifts the lid -- a sort of pained intake of breath, not quite a grunt, not quite a whimper. And then she's very, very quiet and still.
Yasin doesn't look at an ordinary canvas-covered trunk once it has been opened. He's quiet, save for the sound of his breathing.
You feel a strange vertigo, as if the trunk and the room and everything in the world were swiftly receding before her and spinning around and around. They're gone. They really are gone.
She has no further thoughts, after that, at least not in words. As the world spins and recedes, everything naturally begins to feel very distant.
You have emoted: Sassafrass finally there's the sound of the lid being lowered back down, not loud even in the silence, but sharp and final.
Her voice flat and expressionless, you say, "They're all gone." [in Sirdabi]
The sound being recognized, Yasin turns back to regard you. He takes another breath and then asks, "How many did she take?" [in Sirdabi]
Yasin blinks at that statement, looking genuinely surprised. "All?" [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass confirms bluntly, "All. There's nothing in it." [in Sirdabi]
"All." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says, repeating that word, as though the word would make some sense if he said it again.
You have emoted: "All," [in Sirdabi] Sassafrass likewise repeats, rather obligingly, although with as little emotion as an echo.
"S-she... she claims that she 'sent them' back to town." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says, stammering at first. And then as he continues speaking, stammering turns to anger, his right hand flexing. "That's what she told Firo." [in Sirdabi]
From somewhere deep down and dark inside herself, a single thought, sharp and clear, floats to the surface. *Someone will pay. Someone will pay for -all of this-.*.
"We have to stop her." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says to you. "Sassafrasss, I need to know. Why do you think she'd be *so* interested in this curse? What kind of evil do you think she could... do, with this knowledge?" [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: "Firo," [in Sirdabi] Sassafrass says flatly, as if she really were just an echo. Something in her eyes or face has changed, subtly rendering her gaze less fearful and more fearsome.
You think: It's not just that old woman though. Nor this other woman, Other knows who she is. It's all of them. Everyone that's led me to this. They'll all pay.
Yasin observes that shfit in your demeanor. He says alongside another exhalation, "Yes. She's been promising Firo she can cure her sickness, the curse. She also claims she can eliminate the mists and bring us all back home." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: "I don't know," [in Sirdabi] Sassafrass answers, her voice clipped. "I have no notion what this woman or anyone else could gain from my books, as I don't know what's in them. Nor ever will, at this rate." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass says flatly, "I also don't have any notion who this woman is. Except, from what you've said, a gnostic of some kind." [in Sirdabi]
"I... I'll get them back." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says to you in a promise, though it is obvious from a look in his eyes that he has no idea how he's going to do that.
Yasin says to you, "I don't know, either. She claims to be a 'protector of this land' whose people have been hunted by the Mistwatch. But she's also responsible for the murder of..." [in Sirdabi] A pause. "...some of us. And she's threatened some of us, as well." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass's gaze has remained on an ordinary canvas-covered trunk all this time, and her eyes follow one finger as she reaches out to sweep the tip of it slowly along the edge of the lid, as if delicately removing dust from it. "I see." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin observes that delicate removal of dust. "She has a... location, in the woods. That she retreats to. It is... odd." [in Sirdabi]
Still looking at her hand on the lid of an ordinary canvas-covered trunk, you ask, "You've been there? You've met her?" [in Sirdabi]
Yasin shakes his head. "I have never seen her, but she has stalked several of us. She harassed the artist, Ighlaf, one day prior to the break-in here." [in Sirdabi]
"I have been to this location though, yes." [in Sirdabi] Yasin mutters. "It is... there is something wrong with it." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass asks, "What is wrong with it," [in Sirdabi] though her voice is so affectless still that it only barely sounds like a question.
Yasin aims a soft, almost desperate look to you the longer the woman talks in that flat tone. He swallows as if to steady himself. "A circle of oddly shaped stones that look unnatural to the environment. When you touch them, you..." [in Sirdabi] A pause. "...you feel as if you're falling. Dizzy." [in Sirdabi]
"And... someone I trust observed something worse, about them." [in Sirdabi] Yasin murmurs. "This person almost died, when touching them. But it is not my tale to tell." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass's eyes narrow just a touch as the barest shadow of some obscure expression passes across her face. "A stone circle," [in Sirdabi] she repeats, slowly.
"A stone circle." [in Sirdabi] Yasin repeats in affirmation to you. "Does that sound... familiar, to you? I know nothing of this sort of... thing." [in Sirdabi] He gestures towards the crates gathered around his flat. His warehouse? "I'm a smith. I work with iron, not... curses. Magic." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass is quiet for a time longer as she seems to consider this, though her gaze never leaves the lid of her empty trunk. "I would have to see it," [in Sirdabi] she finally says. "Or.. a sketch of it." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass scratches her fingernail lightly at the canvas stretched over the trunk. "Probably I ought to just see it myself." [in Sirdabi]
"I... could show it to you." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says to you. "But we must be prepared for the possibility that this woman would encounter us there." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin wipes his hands down the length of his apron creating the skrtch skrtch of callused hands against leather. "I could take you there, yes." [in Sirdabi] He nods slowly. "It is through an oppressive wall of briar to the west of the lumberyard." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: "Is that so?" [in Sirdabi] Sassafrass asks, after another pause. "Well then. Let us go look." [in Sirdabi]
You have emoted: Sassafrass gets to her feet, dusting her palm off on her sirwaal with a distant air, as if it belonged to somebody else for whom she's conscientiously tidying it.
You have emoted: Sassafrass finally turns to face Yasin again as she seems prepared to follow him right now. Her face is still pale, and the look in her eyes is both distant and hard.
"Are you saying that because you *want* to encounter this woman?" [in Sirdabi] Yasin asks you. "I *will* take you there if you ask, but she is dangerous, and as much as..." [in Sirdabi] His voice breaks, here. "...as much as there is a part of me that would like to encounter her, to deliver her to justice, I am not certain she is... of this world." [in Sirdabi]
"Do you understand?" [in Sirdabi] Yasin asks you, honey-brown eyes meeting those greenish-brown.
Yasin seems to be keeping an eye on you.
You have emoted: Voice still flat, Sassafrass says, "I don't care if she's there or not. Let's just go." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin nods to you. "Very well." [in Sirdabi] A pause. "I'm sending a note on the way." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin approaches the closed rectangular pinewood door.
Yasin opens the rectangular pinewood door.
Yasin walks away through the rectangular pinewood door, with heavy footfalls.
Yasin walks through the rectangular pinewood door, with heavy footfalls.
You have emoted: Sassafrass raises her gaze more fully to Yasin, and studies his own eyes closely. "Unless you'd prefer not to go yourself. In which case, I can go on my own if you tell me the way." [in Sirdabi]
You fall in with Yasin.
Yasin definitely didn't just walk out the door just then. He meets your eyes, and for just a moment, something hardens in his own comportment at that reply. "No. I'm not sending you there on your own." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin then seems to consider the matter settled as he leads you out back to the landing.
Yasin walks away through the rectangular pinewood door, with heavy footfalls.
You walk through the rectangular pinewood door.
Yasin approaches the frame of the open rectangular pinewood door.
Yasin closes the rectangular pinewood door and locks a bolt lock.
[St Loomis, Gullbeak Flats, A Narrow Landing Outside a Door]
This narrow landing stands atop a section of faintly-warped wood planks, greying with age and rough weathering. The unwelcoming, rickety staircase progresses upwards and downwards from the unceremonious presentation of a rectangular pinewood door.
Yasin is here.
Cardinal Exits: east: rectangular pinewood door (closed) and west
You have emoted: Sassafrass looks for a moment as if she's considering saying something else, but in the end she simply nods and looks off across the landing.
Yasin walks west, with heavy footfalls.
You walk west.
Yasin walks out of a ramshackle, thatched-roof tenement through the rickety pine door, with heavy footfalls.
You walk out of a ramshackle, thatched-roof tenement through the rickety pine door.
[St Loomis, Painter Street]
The shambling structures grow denser the further into the housing block one goes, already narrow streets wasting away to mere muddy paths between the rough pine buildings. This particular path zigzags along the natural slope of the hillside, past broken crates and bits of frayed rope. Even on a sunny day the neighborhood seems to keep a faded gloom wrapped around itself, the grey and rotting planks and mildewed thatch an indelible reminder of cold seaside rains.
Yasin is here.
Scattered clouds drift coldly across the stars.
Cardinal Exits: southeast and north
Other: a ramshackle, thatched-roof tenement: rickety pine door (open)
A chilly breeze scatters the clouds overhead, sending shadows racing across the moonlit surroundings.
(Quietly): Yasin frowns at the cold, the moment he steps out into the chilly breeze. "This place..." [in Sirdabi] He mutters with a sigh.
Yasin opens the rawhide drawstring of a discreet leather satchel.
Yasin gets out woollen traveling garb from a discreet leather satchel in his possession.
Yasin removes a heavy, soot-stained leather apron, revealing a discreet leather satchel.
Yasin pauses a moment to awkwardly fit himself into woollen traveling garb, standing there on Painter Street. Well, whatever works...
Yasin puts on woollen traveling garb, covering a neat mahogany brushed suede thawb.
Yasin puts on a heavy, soot-stained leather apron.
Yasin covers a discreet leather satchel with a heavy, soot-stained leather apron.
You have emoted: Sassafrass doesn't even seem to notice the cold, despite her own thin and shabby apparel. She simply stares straight ahead into the darkness, with a dark look in her eyes to match it.
Yasin walks southeast, with heavy footfalls.
You walk southeast.
[St Loomis, Beacon Row]
At this epicenter from which St Loomis's poorer homes stagger outwards along rutted streets, it might be difficult to orient oneself in relation to the rest of the town. Nevertheless the hulking outer wall exists as a tangible presence to the north and east, felt as much as seen. The cathedral tower pushes skyward to the southwest, but rising above all else is the great lighthouse -- a looming beacon cutting through the southeastern sky, no less visible in the depths of night than during the daytime.
Yasin is here.
Scattered clouds drift coldly across the stars.
Cardinal Exits: west, east, and northwest
Yasin looks over to you at that dark look, noticing it while he's fitting those woollen trousers over his own. He says nothing and continues walking.
Yasin walks west, with heavy footfalls.
You walk west.
Yasin walks west, with heavy footfalls.
You walk west.
[St Loomis, Fountain Square]
Here at Fountain Square, bustling Market Street intersects with Post Street to the west, the two avenues' near identical width and substantial stone paving marking them out as equally important in the life and layout of the town. Conversely, the abruptly declining quality of the road that forges eastward suggests a certain marginality to the neighborhood in that direction, where clusters of dreary buildings slant together hopelessly. Presiding over both rich and poor from the center of St Loomis, the town hall sits in stone-clad dignity on the east side of the square.
A lit Mistwatch lantern stands sentinel on a tall pole.
A freckled guard of the town watch patrols the area. Yasin is here.
Scattered clouds drift coldly across the stars.
Cardinal Exits: north, south, east, and west
Other: the town hall: bronze entry door (closed)
Pigeons flock around the base of a circular fountain at the middle of the intersection, where a large stone model of the St Loomis lighthouse presides over the area.
A freckled guard of the town watch walks north, patrolling.
Yasin walks north, with heavy footfalls.
You walk north.
[St Loomis, North Main Street]
The cobbled main street of St Loomis stretches north to south, with the southern end aimed straight as the arm of a compass towards the busy market district, and the northern end lancing clean up to the gateway leading out of town. Underfoot, the stones have been worn down by the passing tread of many. Thankfully the street is wide enough for a wagon to creak along in either direction while simultaneously allowing the safe passage of the numerous pedestrians.
A rickety wooden courier outpost stands here at the side of the street.
A freckled guard of the town watch patrols the area. Yasin is here.
Scattered clouds drift coldly across the stars. Faint scorch marks can be seen hereabouts, barely noticeable. The faintest wind of donkey dung might be lightly whiffed.
Cardinal Exits: south and north
Yasin opens the bronze clasps of a black leather scribing case.
Yasin gets out a leather-bound tome from a black leather scribing case in his possession.
A freckled guard of the town watch walks north, patrolling.
Yasin switches a leather-bound tome to his left hand.
"This is in case we do not return." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says to you, while quickly preparing a leather-bound tome for writing.
Yasin gets out a feather quill dipped in dark bluish-black ink from a black leather scribing case in his possession.
Yasin gets out an inkwell from a black leather scribing case in his possession.
Yasin writes on a leather-bound tome with a feather quill dipped in dark bluish-black ink.
Yasin tears a page out of a leather-bound tome.
You feel a reckless lack of regard for whether that woman might be at the stones or not. Although she feels she would be quite happy to see her die, she knows she's hardly prepared to bring that death herself.
Yasin puts a feather quill dipped in dark bluish-black ink in a black leather scribing case.
Yasin puts an inkwell in a black leather scribing case.
You have emoted: Sassafrass says, "Very good, then," [in Sirdabi] as if this were no great concern of hers.
Yasin puts a leather-bound tome in a black leather scribing case.
Yasin looks over a page torn from a book with a careful eye.
(At a rickety wooden courier outpost): Yasin requests a courier from a rickety wooden courier outpost to deliver a page torn from a book.
A lanky, middle-aged courier emerges from a rickety wooden courier outpost.
With a great smile, a lanky, middle-aged courier takes the payment of 5 wafers from Yasin and sets off.
Yasin eyes you. "You should put that sketch away." [in Sirdabi] He tells her, gesturing to the sketch in your hand. "Do you have a weapon?" [in Sirdabi] He starts walking, afterwards.
Yasin walks south, with heavy footfalls.
You walk south.
[St Loomis, Fountain Square]
Here at Fountain Square, bustling Market Street intersects with Post Street to the west, the two avenues' near identical width and substantial stone paving marking them out as equally important in the life and layout of the town. Conversely, the abruptly declining quality of the road that forges eastward suggests a certain marginality to the neighborhood in that direction, where clusters of dreary buildings slant together hopelessly. Presiding over both rich and poor from the center of St Loomis, the town hall sits in stone-clad dignity on the east side of the square.
A lit Mistwatch lantern stands sentinel on a tall pole.
Yasin is here.
Scattered clouds drift coldly across the stars.
Cardinal Exits: north, south, east, and west
Other: the town hall: bronze entry door (closed)
Pigeons flock around the base of a circular fountain at the middle of the intersection, where a large stone model of the St Loomis lighthouse presides over the area.
Yasin walks south, with heavy footfalls.
You walk south.
[St Loomis, Main Street, Outside the Seaglass Inn]
Faded scraps of withering creeper leaves flutter from the eaves of a two-story building on the western side of cobbled Main Street. The structure's creaking wooden sign is painted with a pale green shard over the etched symbols of a tankard and a bed, with a matching sigil marking a rustic wooden gate in the stone wall that adjoins the building on the north. A neat cedar bench set to one side of the doors allows a fine view of the street out of the way of traffic. Off to the north the intersection with Post Street is visible, where crowds gather around the central fountain with its miniature lighthouse beacon.
A mug with a curved handle is near the southward direction.
Yasin is here.
Scattered clouds drift coldly across the stars.
Cardinal Exits: south, north, and west: rustic wooden gate (open)
Other: the Seaglass Inn: set of double doors (open)
A small muddy puddle in the cobbled street offers up a mirror for the sky.
You have emoted: "Ah," [in Sirdabi] Sassafrass says, glancing vaguely down at a page torn from a book. She nods slightly, but answers the question, "No." [in Sirdabi]
You put a page torn from a book in a pale leather satchel.
Yasin walks south, with heavy footfalls.
You walk south.
The moonlight dims as a cold bank of clouds begins to creep across the sky.
[St Loomis, Main Street, Before the Cathedral Yard]
Main Street widens fractionally here, just where a wide opening appears in the stone wall to the west. Through that opening lies the broad flagstone yard of the modest yet beautiful Cathedral of the Blessed Wayfarer, its narrow windows and tall arches sweeping heavenward in graceful lines. Despite being plagued by the persistent drift of refuse from the nearby market and slum areas, the road is kept miraculously clear by what seems to be a small army of young street sweepers, likely recruited from those very slums.
A small pushcart sells devotional items on the side of the street across from the cathedral yard.
Yasin is here.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: north, south, and west to the cathedral yard
The smell of beeswax and incense floats from a small pushcart set in front of the houses opposite the church.
Yasin looks thoughtful at your answer. "Can you throw a knife, if given one to throw?" [in Sirdabi]
Yasin walks south, with heavy footfalls.
You walk south.
[St Loomis, Main Street]
The way grows muddier and more haphazard as one proceeds further south along Main Street. Wooden planks cross shallow roadside trenches from residences and shops alike, and here and there a vendor's stall narrows the cobbled road in such a way as to earn the enmity of haste-making wagon drivers. Westward a narrow court branches off the street, while off to the north a stonewalled yard encircles a soaring spire-topped church, appearing to offer some small refuge from the chaos.
Yasin is here.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: south, southeast, north, and west
Yasin walks south, with heavy footfalls.
You walk south.
Yasin walks west, with heavy footfalls.
You walk west.
[St Loomis, Cross Street]
Respectable commerce occupies this wide street, paved with worn cobbles. Both single- and two-story buildings line the way, mostly small shops with the owners' residences set behind or above the storefronts. A twig wreath tied with a red and blue plaid ribbon hangs in one upper story window, the work of some house-proud inhabitant.
Yasin is here.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: west, east, a southern storefront: thimble-marked door (open), and a northern storefront: peppercorn-marked door (open)
You have emoted: Sassafrass makes a small dismissive gesture with one hand. "It won't matter. One such as she is will scarcely be stopped by whatever little blade I might fling about." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin walks west, with heavy footfalls.
You walk west.
Yasin walks west, with heavy footfalls.
You walk west.
[St Loomis, Intersection of Cross and Compass Street]
An arched wooden sign painted with a bundle of bright green herbs graces the storefront of a small plank building on the south side of the street. Jammed between a line of low warehouses that begins just to its west and a taller brick building on the east, the little shop might still go unnoticed were it not for the fading display of flowers in several pots by the low front stoop. Cross Street continues east and west, while a smaller lane meanders in from the north.
Yasin is here.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: west, east, and north
Other: a small plank shop: sage green door (open)
A soft herbal fragrance hovers in the air, mixed with the briny scent blown in from the harbor.
A hunched, elder woman walks through the sage green door.
A hunched, elder woman starts towards the eastward direction. (Stand - near the eastward direction -)
Yasin starts towards the westward direction. (Stand - near the westward direction -)
Sassafrass follows Yasin. (Stand - near the westward direction -)
Yasin walks west, with heavy footfalls.
You walk west.
[St Loomis, Cross Street]
Taller stone buildings can be seen towards the west, but here the neatly-cobbled street is flanked by the backs of warehouses on the south and modest but attractive shop fronts on the north. The street is wide and kept relatively clean of filth, with plenty of hitching posts along the sides. What looks to be a pothole on the edge of the eastern end of the street has unusually been planted with a small tree, perhaps to discourage overly hasty wagon traffic traveling between warehouses and docks.
Yasin is here.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: east, west, and a wide southern storefront: pinewood door (open)
Yasin looks back east for a moment after passing away from the elderly woman. He then glances at you.
A hunched, elder woman walks over from the east.
"Very well." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says quietly to you. "Then--" [in Sirdabi]
Yasin's eyes flit to a hunched, elder woman and he quiets.
"What are you both doing?" [in Sirdabi] a hunched, elder woman says, accusatorily following the pair over.
You have emoted: Sassafrass's gaze shifts to a hunched, elder woman, glancing off her with a look as cold and hard as ice.
You have emoted: Sassafrass asks Yasin expressionlessly, as if a hunched, elder woman didn't exist, "What are we waiting for?" [in Sirdabi]
"Searching for stolen property." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says to a hunched, elder woman, flatly.
Yasin then looks back to you, and continues walking.
Yasin starts towards the westward direction. (Stand - near the westward direction -)
Sassafrass follows Yasin. (Stand - near the westward direction -)
"-Borrowed-" [in Sirdabi] a hunched, elder woman scoffs, turning back the way she came.
A hunched, elder woman starts towards the eastward direction. (Stand - near the eastward direction -)
"Be nice if it turned up, then!" [in Sirdabi] Yasin shouts back to a hunched, elder woman.
Yasin stalks off after that shout, not waiting for a reply.
Yasin walks west, with heavy footfalls.
You walk west.
Yasin walks a well-kept alley, with heavy footfalls.
You walk a well-kept alley.
[St Loomis, Turpin Alley]
Cleanly cutting between warehouses, this is a relatively neat alleyway. As this side route to the docks provides access to the new vessels under construction at the shipyard rather than to the aged fishing boats further east, the salty fragrance of the clear sea can break through the comfortable must of lumber and sawdust. The alley itself is narrow and dim but straight, besides being lined with well-kept crushed stone that suggests people of importance travel this way from time to time.
Yasin is here.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: south and north
Yasin walks south, with heavy footfalls.
You walk south.
[St Loomis, Shipyards]
Warehouses line the northern end of the shipyard, housing necessary stores for shipbuilding and occasionally providing storage for smaller boats awaiting repair or sitting out the inclement winter. A few small stalls provide on-site work areas for craftsmen planing wood and producing pegs, ropes, and other essential fittings for the many vessels visible from this spot in various states of completion.
Yasin is here.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover. A strong smell of acrid tar and fresh sawdust lurks.
Cardinal Exits: south, west, and east
Other: a narrow alley
The wind off the ocean produces a homely whistling sound as it blows through a narrow alley leading north between warehouses.
You have emoted: There's not so much as the twitch of a muscle in Sassafrass's face as her eyes stay fixed ahead again.
Yasin walks west, with heavy footfalls.
You walk west.
[St Loomis, Shipyards]
If the rest of the shipyard seems bustling with men and materials, it's nothing compared to the commotion centered around the entrance to the lumberyard. Teams of mules hauling carts full of fresh planking weave their way through knots of gesticulating workers and darting errand-runners, while the way is additionally cluttered by handcarts whose agile maneuverings nevertheless occasionally send a box or barrel careening onto the ground. An air of purposeful confusion fills the area, paradoxical and electrifying.
Yasin is here.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover. The all-consuming scent of acrid tar and fresh sawdust pollutes the space.
Cardinal Exits: south, east, and west: lumberyard gates (open)
Yasin walks away through the lumberyard gates, with heavy footfalls.
You walk through the lumberyard gates.
[St Loomis, Lumberyard]
Huge stacks of planking and timber are piled up here, filling the air with the heady fragrance of sawdust and wood sap. Open-air workshops line the perimeter of the yard, while out closer to the center teams of laborers work together to cut logs with long saws or hew timber into shape with axes and hatchets. Meanwhile the finished products of planking and masts are hauled out through the shipyard gates on wagons, while raw materials in the form of great trunks of pine and oak come from both east and west to take their place.
A lit Mistwatch lantern stands sentinel on a tall pole.
Yasin is here.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover. An overpowering aroma of fresh sawdust and wood sap clouds the air.
Cardinal Exits: east: lumberyard gates (open), west: lumber camp gate (open), and north
Yasin walks away through the lumber camp gate, with heavy footfalls.
You walk through the lumber camp gate.
[Outside St Loomis, Lumber Pathway]
The wheel-rutted dirt pathway, wide enough for two lumber carts, stretches through a stubby short grassland of rocks and tree stumps and straggling saplings. To the east rise the stone walls of the town, and to the south, past a perilous field of sharp rocks, the sea can be heard crashing. Westward looms the forest known appropriately as the Westwood, dwarfing a lumber camp in the distance.
Yasin is here.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: northwest and east: lumber camp gate (open)
Yasin walks northwest, with heavy footfalls.
You walk northwest.
[Outside St Loomis, Lumber Pathway]
The pathway slopes slightly here, just enough for the traveler to notice a northwestward incline towards the trees and the lumber camp, and a decline towards the stone walls of St Loomis to the east. Since the battered dirt road is elevated enough to look out across the southern cliffs, the vast blue-green panorama of the Adelantean Sea may be viewed receding into the misty horizon. A thin path splits off here from the lumber camp road, winding off along the seaward edge of the forest.
Yasin is here.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: southeast and north
Other: a thin path
A faint breeze brings the whisper of pine needles and the sappy forest fragrance of gloam pine and birch.
Yasin walks north, with heavy footfalls.
You walk north.
Yasin walks west, with heavy footfalls.
You walk west.
[Outside St Loomis, Westwood Outskirts]
Some of the larger oaks and pines bear purposeful sets of axe marks on their broad trunks, awaiting felling by men from the lumber camp just to the east. Winding off northward, a narrow but well-beaten path follows the margins of the wood.
Yasin is here.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: west, east, and north
Yasin walks west, with heavy footfalls.
You walk west.
[Outside St Loomis, The Westwood]
Gloam pine, silver birch, and oak cluster together here near the eastern edge of the forest. The overgrowth rapidly grows denser to the west, crowding out the sky and shadowing the forest floor. Here is a yewwood branch (x3).
Yasin is here.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: east
You have emoted: Sassafrass looks briefly over at Yasin, then stares into the overgrowth. "Here?" [in Sirdabi]
A featureless mass of clouds stretches coldly across the skies as far as the eye can see.
Yasin pauses at the edge of the westwood, and looks to you, stopping. "Listen to me," [in Sirdabi] he says to you. "I can see the anger in your eyes. And I do *not* know you." [in Sirdabi] He pauses. "But if something happens, I'm dragging you out of there. Do you understand?" [in Sirdabi]
Yasin nods to you. "Here. There's a path." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin gets out a dark pitch-topped torch from a discreet leather satchel in his possession.
Yasin switches a dark pitch-topped torch to his left hand.
Yasin opens the riveted strap of a heavy, soot-stained leather apron.
Yasin gets out a curved steel firestriker from a heavy, soot-stained leather apron in his possession.
Using a curved steel firestriker, Yasin lights a dark pitch-topped torch.
Yasin puts a curved steel firestriker in a heavy, soot-stained leather apron.
Yasin closes the riveted strap of a heavy, soot-stained leather apron.
Yasin removes a coal-stained sack.
You have emoted: Sassafrass makes a faint little scoffing noise and shakes her head slightly. "You needn't. But I don't expect you'll listen to that." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin places a coal-stained sack on the ground.
A coal-stained sack has been set aside here, looking as if it was intentionally placed. (Room Pose Arranged)
Yasin closes the rope drawstring of a coal-stained sack.
"I won't." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says to you, nodding firmly.
And without another word, Yasin leads you through the overgrowth, now that his heavy-looking pack has been set aside.
Yasin walks into the overgrowth westward, with heavy footfalls.
You walk into the overgrowth westward.
You have emoted: Sassafrass simply nods back to that and follows.
[Outside St Loomis, the Westwood, Through Brambles and Vines]
Overgrowth crowds the tree trunks here, with vines and bushes challenging every approach deeper into the Westwood. A curtain of slinkets hangs across what appears to be a gametrail, and small wedges of limestone harden the soft, pine-needled forest floor.
Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: out through the overgrowth eastward and southwest through a curtain of slinkets
"Mind the brambles and the ... thorns." [in Sirdabi] Yasin murmurs to you as he walks on.
Yasin pushes aside the vines to move away through the curtain of slinkets, with heavy footfalls.
You push aside the vines to move through the curtain of slinkets.
[The Westwood, Narrow Trail]
One would never know just how close the lumber camp and even the gates of St Loomis itself are in this seclusive spot. Screened behind a curtain of slinkets, the trail leading back to civilization is concealed from easy view and might just as well not exist. Instead, the atmosphere here in the depths of the Westwood is quiet and calm, sheltered below a bower of darkening trees.
Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: northeast and northwest
Yasin pushes his way through the vines and through the curtain, doing his best to make a path ahead of you.
Yasin walks northwest, with heavy footfalls.
You walk northwest.
[The Westwood, Narrow Trail]
The trail wends its way amidst ancient trees, their intertwining canopies often hung with an enduring cool mist. Aged evergreen needles provide a softening carpet across spongy loam and crumbling limestone.
Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: southeast and southwest
Yasin walks southwest, with heavy footfalls.
You walk southwest.
[The Westwood, Narrow Trail]
Yews, gloampines, and mistwoods flock the edges of this trail through the gradually thinning forest. Patches of limestone show through the loamy earth below, littered with orange needles accumulated over many seasons.
Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: northeast and southwest
You have emoted: If the thorns scratch and grab at Sassafrass's clothing, it's all shabby enough already as to hardly make any difference. And she herself certainly doesn't seem to care, as she just pushes through with distant determination.
Yasin walks southwest, with heavy footfalls.
You walk southwest.
[The Westwood, Winding Forest Trail]
The narrow trail cuts through demurely below the ancient trees of the Westwood, discreetly skirting mighty trunks and hoary old roots. Soft limestone crumbles in some sections underfoot, and intermittently one can hear the muffled roar of the ocean crashing against cliffs far to the south. Here is a round flat rock.
Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: northeast and northwest
Yasin walks northwest, with heavy footfalls.
You walk northwest.
Yasin's lit pitch-topped torch burns with radiant heat through the cold air.
[The Westwood, Shadow-Darkened Path]
Gloamy purple-needled pines have overtaken the majority of the overgrowth in this part of the forest, and the narrow trail beneath them is littered with conifer cones and dry old needles. The sky overhead is barely visible between the thick hanging branches and sharply clustered foliage of the dark evergreens.
Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: southeast and north
Yasin walks north, with heavy footfalls.
You walk north.
[The Westwood, Before a Wall of Briars]
A wall of briars rears up from the ground here, laden with fearsome thorns. Though one might still attempt to struggle through it westward, this would not appear to be a comfortable endeavor. Gloam pines and mistwoods grow here among yews and Ruveran oaks, lightening the weight of the looming forest -- but the pleasant woods only serve to draw contrast with the perilous tangle of prickles to the west.
Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: south
Yasin takes one more breath, then gestures to the wall of briars. "It is just through... here." [in Sirdabi]
Yasin's right hand drifts towards his case, for some reason, before resting back at his side.
You have emoted: Sassafrass nods to Yasin again and steps towards the briars.
Sassafrass starts towards the westward direction. (Stand - near the westward direction -)
Yasin walks away through the prickly hedge of briars, heading west, with heavy footfalls.
You walk through the prickly hedge of briars, heading west.
[The Westwood, Amongst Tangled Briars]
It takes a painfully protracted battle to journey within the untender embrace of the briar thicket, with the heavy thorns snagging and jabbing every step and shove of the way. Still, a winding path does emerge between the southwest and the east, for anyone brave enough to struggle through the initial obstacles of the prickly trail. Above, the jagged fringes of gloam pines encroach upon any hopeful glimpse of sky.
Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: southwest and east
Yasin attempts to step in front of you, sort of getting caught up in a few thorns before he looks to ensure you is ready to move on.
The cold world is enshrouded in almost perfect blackness beneath the leaden mass of clouds.
Yasin begins to watch the general direction of southwestward.
You have emoted: Sassafrass shakes her head slowly at Yasin. "You've nothing to gain by coming," [in Sirdabi] she tells him, but falls back in line with him anyway.
You fall in with Yasin.
(Quietly): Yasin stills as he sees something southwest. "I believe... that is her." [in Sirdabi]
You peer southwest...
[The Westwood, Below a Low Thorny Arbor]
The trunks of the surrounding gloam pines are strangled by the all-encompassing mass of briars, yet a small trail pushes through it all. Forming a rather menacing looking arbor over the loamy path, thorny tendrils of vine snag amid viciously spiked bramble branches that clutch at your head as you attempt to pass. Down this treacherous track to the northwest, the widening of a brighter clearing can be spotted through the shadowy wood.
An average-height person wearing a mismatched scrap leather cloak stands below the arbor of thorns, placidly watching the night.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: northeast and northwest
"Come on, then." [in Sirdabi] Yasin says to you, steeling himself with yet one more swallow.
You have emoted: Sassafrass says, "Ah," [in Sirdabi] and nods. "Very good." [in Sirdabi] She doesn't seem very concerned herself, with anything at all.
Yasin walks southwest, with heavy footfalls.
You walk southwest.
[The Westwood, Below a Low Thorny Arbor]
The trunks of the surrounding gloam pines are strangled by the all-encompassing mass of briars, yet a small trail pushes through it all. Forming a rather menacing looking arbor over the loamy path, thorny tendrils of vine snag amid viciously spiked bramble branches that clutch at your head as you attempt to pass. Down this treacherous track to the northwest, the widening of a brighter clearing can be spotted through the shadowy wood.
An average-height person wearing a mismatched scrap leather cloak stands below an arbor of thorns, placidly watching the night. Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand.
The night is cold despite gathered cloudcover.
Cardinal Exits: northeast and northwest
A lean, ink-eyed man walks over from the northeast, with careful steps.
Yasin walks through the path, standing somewhat in front of you. His eyes are immediately trained upon an average-height person wearing a mismatched scrap leather cloak. The young man takes a quiet breath, his eyes fixed upon the cloaked woman.
Yasin seems to be keeping an eye on an average-height person wearing a mismatched scrap leather cloak.
Yasin's lit pitch-topped torch burns with radiant heat through the cold air.
You have emoted: As Sassafrass follows Yasin through the brambles, her gaze shifts forward to settle on an average-height person wearing a mismatched scrap leather cloak. And there her eyes stay, the look in them cold and dark as the night.
Yasin's eyes then immediately flit to regard the appearance of a lean, ink-eyed man.
A lean, ink-eyed man edges carefully through the briars and steps into the light of Yasin's torch.
A lean, ink-eyed man falls in with Yasin.
An average-height person wearing a mismatched scrap leather cloak turns to look upon Yasin and you, without much surprise. She cants her head, a welcoming smile visible below the hood. "Good evening, fellow travelers," [in Ruvic with a light mezzo-soprano] she says kindly.
A poised middle-aged woman lowers the hood of a mismatched scrap leather cloak.
You think: Who in the name of the Other are you, woman?
You have emoted: Sassafrass appears entirely untouched by welcoming smiles and kindly greetings, and simply continues to look at a poised middle-aged woman unblinkingly.
Yasin's eyes look over a poised middle-aged woman, taking in her appearance in detail. His jaw sets and his eyes harden. "Do not waste your pleasantries on me." [in Ruvic] He says, coldness in his tone. "Where is our property?" [in Ruvic]
Masses of cold dark clouds roll slowly overhead, not a single ray of moonlight penetrating their dense folds.
You feel the need to note every detail that she can -- of face, form, voice, demeanor. She has no illusions about doing anything to this woman right now. But someday.
A poised middle-aged woman presses her mouth into a fine line, gazing at Yasin. "A rude boy," [in Ruvic] she observes, without any rancor. "Did you lose something in these thorns?" [in Ruvic]
A lean, ink-eyed man seems to be keeping an eye on a poised middle-aged woman.
You have emoted: "My books." [in Sirdabi] Sassafrass finally speaks, her voice flat and untouched by emotion. "What did you do with them." [in Sirdabi]
A poised middle-aged woman lifts upon her tiptoes, peering past a lean, ink-eyed man, at the tail of the small group, as if looking for something that might be lost in the dark in the briars. Then she settles down into a pair of drab stitched-together scrap leather sandals again with a bland smile.
"So that's how it is going to be?" [in Ruvic] Yasin asks, his voice cracking briefly as he stares hard at a poised middle-aged woman. "I know who you are. And since you decided to help yourself into my flat, you clearly know who I am. Do not waste our time with your games." [in Ruvic]
A breath of ice from the surrounding darkness twists around Yasin's lit pitch-topped torch, encroaching upon its tremorous sphere of light and warmth.
A lean, ink-eyed man stands quietly next to Yasin for long moments with a lingering frown. They eventually speak, "I believe you carried the books into these thorns. Which way were they to be delivered into town?" [in Ruvic with a muted countertenor]
Sparing Yasin a raised brow, a poised middle-aged woman tells you, "Why, I sent them back to town, sweet lass." [in Ruvic]
Thoughtfully looking next to a lean, ink-eyed man, a poised middle-aged woman says, "Hmm... which *way*..." [in Ruvic]
You have emoted: Sassafrass says flatly, "I don't care about just that. I want to know what you *did* with them. And why." [in Sirdabi]
(Hidden) Yasin ticks a brief look to you, before settling his eyes back onto a poised middle-aged woman.
A poised middle-aged woman lifts a hand to tap her chin with one finger, gaze sliding from a lean, ink-eyed man back to you. Then she sighs, giving a headshake of dourness.
Cold clouds block out the stars.
Speaking with an earnest air, a poised middle-aged woman tells you, "I studied them, so as to develop a cure for their curse." [in Ruvic]
A poised middle-aged woman narrows her eyes at you. "The curse that has claimed you, as well as your..." [in Ruvic] A pause. A deepening of her frown.
You have emoted: That does produce a flicker of expression, as Sassafrass's mouth twitches and twists and her eyes narrow. "Why," [in Sirdabi] she repeats. "Why would you care about that. How would you even have known about it." [in Sirdabi]
A breath of ice from the surrounding darkness twists around Yasin's lit pitch-topped torch, encroaching upon its tremorous sphere of light and warmth.
A poised middle-aged woman shifts her gaze from you to pan over to Yasin, and to a lean, ink-eyed man. She slowly folds her arms with a clicking of her tongue. "Tsk. I suppose I ought not call her your friend anymore, shall I? Dear Firo." [in Ruvic]
You have emoted: Sassafrass's brows twitch too then, coming together sharply. She studies a poised middle-aged woman with a sort of remote misgiving.
You keep an eye on a poised middle-aged woman.
Yasin's eyes narrow, then narrow further at a poised middle-aged woman's latter words. "Only because you've turned her against us with your lies, and your poison." [in Ruvic]
A lean, ink-eyed man looks to Yasin for several moments, then back to a poised middle-aged woman with a focused look. "You said you wanted to study the books, but also that you thought they may have brought the mist. Which is it?" [in Ruvic]
You think: She understood what I said. She's speaking in Ruvic, but she knows what I said too...
A poised middle-aged woman offers a disapproving sigh. "I speak naught but the truth, rude boy," [in Ruvic] she informs Yasin. "You cling to comforting lies, and so name me a liar, but I am teaching Good Firouzeh to fend for herself in this world of curse and hex." [in Ruvic] Her pronunciation of the elderly woman's name is perfect.
You have emoted: Sassafrass says with a note of scorn enlivening her tone, "Those books have nothing to do with the mist. The mist is ancient, and those books can't be half so old." [in Ruvic]
The light fades beneath a profoundly cold cover of clouds, abandoning the forest to shivering dimness.
With a nod and a smile, a poised middle-aged woman tells a lean, ink-eyed man, "You remember, dear artist. And yes, I was concerned. Had you asked *my friend* Firo, you would know what I told her." [in Ruvic]
A poised middle-aged woman shifts her weight, rounding out one hip in the sassy pose of a middle schooler laying claim to someone else's ex-friend.
A lean, ink-eyed man doesn't respond to the mention of Firouzeh beyond a small downturn of lips until the later words. "She does not speak with me in these matters, and did not answer." [in Ruvic]
You think: She must be lying, but what did she want with them at all?
Rather tartly, a poised middle-aged woman exclaims, "Hrmph! I wonder why. Such rudeness and accusations!" [in Ruvic]
Yasin's lit pitch-topped torch burns with radiant heat through the cold air.
A poised middle-aged woman clears her throat, softening somewhat, and unfolds her arms below a mismatched scrap leather cloak.
You have emoted: Sassafrass observes, "People don't much care for it when you take their things without permission. Whether it's a trunkful of books, or their friends." [in Ruvic]
Yasin's right hand flexes, then relaxes at his side. "I do not cling to any lies. I search for the truth, and I do not trust those who make grand promises and do not ask for anything in return. And not when those who make such promises are also *murderers*." [in Ruvic] He delivers that last word with a particularly hateful stare at a poised middle-aged woman.
A lean, ink-eyed man blandly replies to a poised middle-aged woman, "As I told her, children behave better than her belligerence in speaking to us." [in Ruvic] their words are intent after, "I may be angry with her, but it does not undo previous care. It is you who leads her in these things." [in Ruvic]
Balefully, you think: She took *my* books. That I sacrificed so much for. Whatever is in them, they're *mine*, and she took them.
A poised middle-aged woman takes a moment to address a lean, ink-eyed man before turning her attention on. "I thought the books might have drawn the mist," [in Ruvic] she explains. "But I had to study them to be certain. And when I did, I was certain they had not been the ones to do so." [in Ruvic] Her gaze flits to you.
The cold world is enshrouded in almost perfect blackness beneath the leaden mass of clouds.
You have emoted: "Perhaps you could have sent a courier asking," [in Ruvic] Sassafrass tells a poised middle-aged woman coldly, "And I could have told you myself they'd nothing at all to do with the mist." [in Ruvic]
A poised middle-aged woman takes a longer moment to survey you, eyes bright in the moonlight, without speaking. Finally she says simply, "One must act at some juncture, when great fates are at stake." [in Ruvic] Then she looks to Yasin.
Yasin listens in silence after his earlier comments, though he maintains a hard, unyielding stare towards a poised middle-aged woman.
A breath of ice from the surrounding darkness twists around Yasin's lit pitch-topped torch, encroaching upon its tremorous sphere of light and warmth.
You have emoted: Sassafrass also keeps up a steady and frosty stare upon a poised middle-aged woman. "And what of the *real* curse? Do you know how to dispel that now? Or was that beyond you as well?" [in Ruvic]
A poised middle-aged woman's voice gentles as she looks upon Yasin. "You are right to be upset, young man," [in Ruvic] is the first thing she says. "Hike took much from you, and his insanity was my misstep." [in Ruvic]
Yasin's right eye twitches, but he does not back down from his hard stare towards a poised middle-aged woman despite those words, gently spoken or no. He remains silent.
A lean, ink-eyed man shifts their jaw as they listen.
After a pause, a poised middle-aged woman says, "...there will be more time to speak of these things later." [in Ruvic]
A poised middle-aged woman glances towards you then, eyebrows slowly furrowing together.
Lifting one hand to gesture towards you, a poised middle-aged woman says, "I would invite you both to ponder upon the young tinker's line of inquiry to me." [in Ruvic]
Yasin lets out a breath through gritted teeth, but says nothing further to a poised middle-aged woman. He follows that glance.
Spreading a chilly grey light through the quiet forest, not so much as a single ray of light penetrates the clouds.
Going on with an almost clinical manner, a poised middle-aged woman says, "She is concerned highly with her possessions, and inclines not towards any greater nobility of purpose." [in Ruvic]
"She wishes to know if you can dispel the curse." [in Ruvic] Yasin says to a poised middle-aged woman, interjecting, voice still hard. He's probably restraining himself, the way he's speaking. "It is a reasonable question." [in Ruvic]
A breath of ice from the surrounding darkness twists around Yasin's lit pitch-topped torch, encroaching upon its tremorous sphere of light and warmth.
A poised middle-aged woman says, "Not only that, but --" [in Ruvic] She lets out air in a short sigh. "-- this tinker claims that she would have been able to discern the true nature of any curse upon the books, and whether they called the Mist, or not." [in Ruvic]
You have emoted: Sassafrass says narrowly, "I said no such thing. I said they weren't old enough to have anything to do with the Mist. Anyone who knows books can judge how old a tome is." [in Ruvic]
Yasin's lips part in protest at a poised middle-aged woman's words, his eyes widening slightly. He then gestures towards you with his right hand slightly, nodding.
With a cold seething anger, you think: And I knew books very well, from all the years of my life that I could read them.
A poised middle-aged woman pensively eyes you, letting her hand fall back into the shadows beneath a mismatched scrap leather cloak. "And now you backtrack," [in Ruvic] she murmurs, shaking her head with a warning 'tsk'. "In the reaches, when the air wreathes itself into a creature, is that creature too young to have aught to do with Mist? Tell me, young tinker, what is your way to Know?" [in Ruvic]
You have emoted: Sassafrass makes a quiet scoffing noise at a poised middle-aged woman. "There's no similarity between the two," [in Ruvic] she retorts edgily. "Mist creatures arise from the Mist. My books certainly didn't." [in Ruvic]
A breath of ice from the surrounding darkness twists around Yasin's lit pitch-topped torch, encroaching upon its tremorous sphere of light and warmth.
Lifting both eyebrows then, a poised middle-aged woman says, "They are older than you. Or are they? Are you wearing a disguise, young tinker?" [in Ruvic] There's no smile now. "For I Know of such things. And it seems..." [in Ruvic]
You think: I have more knowledge than you know, you meddling thief. Just because I can't *do* magic doesn't mean I don't know about it. You've no notion all the books I've read, lost ones, forbidden ones.
Masses of cold dark clouds roll slowly overhead, not a single ray of moonlight penetrating their dense folds.
A poised middle-aged woman turns her stance sideways beneath the darkness of the clouds, almost as if being on guard towards you. Rather softly, she states, "...you do, too." [in Ruvic]
"What are you getting at?" [in Ruvic] Yasin asks a poised middle-aged woman. He looks briefly to you, then back.
You have emoted: Sassafrass asks with a sharp blink. "A disguise?" [in Ruvic] This seems to startle her out of her emotionlessness, and one hand comes up to pluck lightly at the veil wrapped around her neck.
A poised middle-aged woman does not lift her gaze from you. "Your companion is not whom she claims," [in Ruvic] is spoken warningly to Yasin. "It is as I told dear Firo. As I suspected, after studying the books." [in Ruvic]
A lean, ink-eyed man tilts their head, a curious glance from you settling on a poised middle-aged woman with a knitting of their brows.
You have emoted: Sassafrass frowns again, pressing her lips together flatly again. "I don't use my mind to meddle in the Dream, if that's what you're trying to imply. Like you." [in Ruvic]
Yasin takes a single step to his side, partially -- but not wholly -- in front of you, as though in a protective stance. "Many in this world are not who they claim," [in Ruvic] he says with a bitter air towards a poised middle-aged woman.
You have emoted: Sassafrass lets out a quiet gasp/, possibly of outrage as much as nerves/. "Wh- what--! Who do you think I am, then! You're full of nothing but lies." [in Ruvic]
A poised middle-aged woman narrows her attention upon you. "So you claim," [in Ruvic] she replies. "Many in this world claim many things." [in Ruvic]
A lean, ink-eyed man looks to a poised middle-aged woman and eventually asks, "You said too. Who are you, then?" [in Ruvic]
Letting out a sigh, a poised middle-aged woman says, "I suppose we must wait and see what to make of such claims." [in Ruvic]
A breath of ice from the surrounding darkness twists around Yasin's lit pitch-topped torch, encroaching upon its tremorous sphere of light and warmth.
Yasin flicks a glance between those gathered, though after each glance his eyes train themselves back upon a poised middle-aged woman.
A poised middle-aged woman relaxes the tension of her focus on you, almost like a bowstring carefully loosened rather than released, and then looks over at a lean, ink-eyed man. "As I have told dear Firo," [in Ruvic] she replies. "I am one of the last of the ancient guardians of this land, nigh exterminated by the corrupt greed of Ensor's Mistwatch." [in Ruvic]
A clatter of sleet begins to pelt from above, a barrage of tiny cold chips striking down.
You have emoted: Sassafrass licks her lips as her gaze flicks briefly to a lean, ink-eyed man and Yasin, then back to a poised middle-aged woman. She starts to say something else, but then subsides with an uncertain air.
A poised middle-aged woman glances skyward past an arbor of thorns, then moves aside slightly, as if allowing space for the others to move closer.
(Quietly): You have emoted: With a narrow look to a poised middle-aged woman once more, Sassafrass mutters, "A guardian? You? I don't believe it for a moment." [in Ruvic]
(At an arbor of thorns): Quietly, beneath the rattle of hail, a poised middle-aged woman murmurs, "And I am no closer to vanquishing the Mist than I was before." [in Ruvic]
A lean, ink-eyed man gestures to a poised middle-aged woman, "I suppose I must wait and see what to make of your claim." [in Ruvic] their gaze intent.
Yasin looks uncomfortable at that inviting gesture. His right hand flexes again. He takes a single step forward, then stops.
A poised middle-aged woman folds both arms below a mismatched scrap leather cloak and nods to a lean, ink-eyed man.
Yasin then decides to simply stand there under the falling sleet, paying it as little mind as possible.
You have emoted: Sassafrass shivers sharply as a thin pelting of sleet begins to strike her from the cold clouds.
"Why should we listen to you?" [in Ruvic] Yasin asks a poised middle-aged woman, finally breaking his (relative) silence. "You claim to be a guardian. To be good. To wish to do good, to heal this land of the mist. What proof can you offer that the Watch is evil? Why do you wish to hurt my friends?" [in Ruvic]
A lean, ink-eyed man gives their own shiver under the weather, standing in place.
Yasin's lit pitch-topped torch spits and pops in the rain.
A lean, ink-eyed man shifts closer to Yasin and the light of the torch as they listen intently.
Lifting her voice, a poised middle-aged woman says, "Perhaps we had dens once, that I might have invited you to, but they were smoked out and ruined by the cruelty of those who did not understand us. So now I might only invite you to stand below the briars with me, and trust that if I had any wish to hurt any of you, I would have by now." [in Ruvic]
(Quietly): A lean, ink-eyed man shifts closer to Yasin.
The sky sends down sheets of miserable slush from an utterly dark spread of clouds.
You have emoted: Sassafrass makes another scoffing noise at a poised middle-aged woman's reponse. Shaking her head sharply, she says, "I didn't walk all the way out here to have some woods-witch flap their jaw at me. I'm going on." [in Ruvic] She somewhat spoils whatever air of defiance she might have worked up by her shivering.
Sassafrass starts towards the northwestward direction. (Stand - near the northwestward direction -)
A poised middle-aged woman stands solemnly beneath an arbor of thorns, protected from the miserable icy rain. (Room Pose Set)
You walk northwest.
[The Westwood, A Small Meadow, Approaching a Stone Circle]
Grassy clumps and small hillocks make up this small meadow, its subdued greenery spotted sparsely with wildflowers. This place feels like a little world unto itself, guarded all around by jagged-topped gloam pines whose trunks are themselves crowded by heavy tangles of briars. Arranged in a circle where the clearing opens out further to the northwest, a cluster of tall, heavy stones stands in silent vigil.
A cold sleet clatters down unseen in the dark night.
Cardinal Exits: northwest and southeast
You have emoted: Sassafrass peers hard through the darkness and sleet, trying to make out any useful sign ahead.
You walk northwest.
[The Westwood, Small Meadow, Old Stone Circle]
Tall column-liked stones, their weathered surfaces an odd dark hue, grow a patchy blanket of lichens and mosses where they stand planted in a circle between the low hillocks of grass. Despite their overall arrangement, the monolithic boulders still appear almost haphazardly placed, slanting and rough-edged like crooked teeth. Within their faintly ominous embrace, the purple shadows of evening are deep and chill.
A cold sleet clatters down unseen in the dark night.
Cardinal Exits: northwest and southeast
At mid-distant range toward the southeastward direction, you see: A poised middle-aged woman observes the passage of you without making any motion to stop her, or a lean, ink-eyed man.
At mid-distant range toward the southeastward direction, you see: After a moment, a poised middle-aged woman says, "------ -f ---. -s- ---- F--- ---- - s-s------. - ---- --- ---- --- ----- -f -- --- s---." [in Ruvic]
You have emoted: In the darkness Sassafrass almost walks smack into the foremost stone, and in her stumble has to flail out her arms to keep herself from falling.
You reach out and touch a circle of dark-hued stone.
The dark stone is oddly smooth beneath your touch, and you have a strange sense of distant vertigo.
You have emoted: Sassafrass grunts sharply and jerks her hand away from contact with the stone, taking a step back from it.
At mid-distant range toward the southeastward direction, you see: A poised middle-aged woman listens for a moment to a lean, ink-eyed man, then nods. "-- -s --ff----- -- -------," [in Ruvic] she replies. "--- ----- ----s- -- -f ------- ------s. --- ---s- ----s --- --- - s----- -f -----f. --- ------, ------, -s. --- -s s-- -------- ----?" [in Ruvic]
Eyeing the deeper darkness before her that is one of the stones, you think: Donkey balls. I can hardly even see them, and they're right in front of me.
Rustling coldly into the sere grass as it falls, lances of ice hurtle down from the sky.
With uneasy fascination, you think: He was right, though. They feel like..
At mid-distant range toward the southeastward direction, you see: A poised middle-aged woman looks to Yasin, and dips a somber nod to him as well. "- --- --- ---- ---- ---- --s ----- -- --," [in Ruvic] she admits. "--- - s----- ---- -----. - ----- ---- -- --s --- -f s---s." [in Ruvic] There's a sincere regret in her voice. "- s----- ---- s------ --- s-----. ---- -s ------ -- f----." [in Ruvic]
She thinks they don't feel so much like falling, as the sensation she had only just this evening when she discovered her books were really gone, of the entire world receding and falling away.
You have emoted: Sassafrass steps cautiously forward again, raising both hands in front of her. Slowly, guardedly, she lays both palms against the stone again.
You reach out and touch a circle of dark-hued stone.
The dark stone is oddly smooth beneath your touch, and you have a strange sense of distant vertigo.
At mid-distant range toward the southeastward direction, you see: Frowning into the downpour after the vanished tinker, a poised middle-aged woman says, "--s. F--- --- - --- ------- -- - ---- -- ---- ---s-, -- ---s-. - s-----ff--- -f s------- --- ----s f-- --s------------- --s -----s------- ---- -f --- ---s-'s ------." [in Ruvic]
You think: Stone circles. Strange ruins, leaving strange patterns where they still stand. I've seen maps with these kinds of things on them.
At mid-distant range toward the southeastward direction, you see: A poised middle-aged woman refocuses upon Yasin and then an average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb, with a grim frown. "--s," [in Ruvic] she admits. "- ------ -- --s----- --- --- --s- f------- ---- s---. --- - --- -- ------- ---- - ------ f-- --- ---. -- ----s ---- -- ---- s--- - ----- f--- -f--." [in Ruvic]
OOC: Your pose will read 'a fox-faced woman with apprehensive green eyes stands in the darkness near one of the stones, both palms resting against its smooth surface.'.
At mid-distant range toward the southeastward direction, you see: With a sigh, a poised middle-aged woman says, "- ----- ---------- --- -------s -------- -f--- -'- ----- -f ----'s s----- ----. --- f--s- - ------- ------s - --s----, --- -- --- --- --s--- ---- - ---- --- -- s---. -f ----s- - -- --- ---- --- --------- -f --- --s------, --- -- - -----..." [in Ruvic]
At mid-distant range toward the southeastward direction, you see: A poised middle-aged woman twists her mouth in disgust. "...s--------." [in Ruvic]
You think: They're... a locus of power. A way to step into the Slumberland sometimes, or to reach out to it. But is that all they are...? Are these the same?
Hard icy rain pelts the surrounding area.
In muted frustration, and not for the first time, you think: I wish I didn't just *know* things about magic. I wish I could.. sense it. Touch it. Tell *something* about it!
At mid-distant range toward the southeastward direction, you see: Frowning harder for a moment, a poised middle-aged woman says, "S------- -f -----s - -- --- -----..." [in Ruvic]
You think: I need to come back here when I can see them at least.
You have emoted: Slowly, almost reluctantly, Sassafrass breaks her contact with the stone, lowering her arms back to her sides. She's very still again after that as she continues to simply stand there, close to the strange pylon.
At mid-distant range toward the southeastward direction, you see: After a long pause following Yasin's shout, a poised middle-aged woman says, "...s------- -f -----s - -- --- -----." [in Ruvic]
At mid-distant range toward the southeastward direction, you see: Glancing towards an average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb, a poised middle-aged woman says, "--- ----- -- --- ---f----- --------- -- -s- -- s----s, --- ---- ------ ------- --- ----s f--- --s ------ -- f----f- --s--f. --s ------ -s ---- f-----, - -------, s- --- ----- -- ---- -- --- -- ---." [in Ruvic]
At mid-distant range toward the southeastward direction, you see: A poised middle-aged woman takes a long moment of silence, without looking towards Yasin.
You have emoted: Sassafrass shivers suddenly, seeming to only now become aware once again of being out in the middle of a shower of wretched sleet. She shifts her weight, wrapping her arms around herself as she looks back down the path.
Sourly, you think: I wonder what lies she's peeling off her tongue now.
At mid-distant range toward the southeastward direction, you see: Finally seeming to gather her words, a poised middle-aged woman says, "...s-------s -----s --s- -- -----, ----- ---." [in Ruvic] She speaks quietly, still gazing to one side. "S-------s --- --- ---. - s----- ---- --, ---- --- -------s -f ---- -------- -- -- ----s---s..." [in Ruvic]
A barrage of icy pellets pelts down, rustling coldly into the sere grass as it falls.
An uneasy feeling creeping back in, you think: She's a gnostic, though. Maybe more. With all your knowledge, you have no idea what she's truly capable of. Don't forget that.
At mid-distant range toward the southeastward direction, you see: Quietly, a poised middle-aged woman says, "...--- --- ------- -f ----, --- -- -s --s- -f--- --- ---- --- --s- ---- ----- -- --ss." [in Ruvic]
At mid-distant range toward the southeastward direction, you see: Clearing her throat and lifting her chin towards an average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb after a span of silence, a poised middle-aged woman says, "S---- -- ---- f----- ----- --- ------. ------s --- ----- -------- --- -- ------- --s ------- -- --- -----. - ----- ----s- --, s----, ------- ------- ---." [in Ruvic]
You have emoted: Sassafrass shivers again. After a reluctant pause, she carefully directs her steps across the dark and icy ground back the way she had come.
You walk southeast.
[The Westwood, A Small Meadow, Approaching a Stone Circle]
Grassy clumps and small hillocks make up this small meadow, its subdued greenery spotted sparsely with wildflowers. This place feels like a little world unto itself, guarded all around by jagged-topped gloam pines whose trunks are themselves crowded by heavy tangles of briars. Arranged in a circle where the clearing opens out further to the northwest, a cluster of tall, heavy stones stands in silent vigil.
A cold sleet clatters down unseen in the dark night.
Cardinal Exits: northwest and southeast
You walk southeast.
[The Westwood, Below a Low Thorny Arbor]
The trunks of the surrounding gloam pines are strangled by the all-encompassing mass of briars, yet a small trail pushes through it all. Forming a rather menacing looking arbor over the loamy path, thorny tendrils of vine snag amid viciously spiked bramble branches that clutch at your head as you attempt to pass. Down this treacherous track to the northwest, the widening of a brighter clearing can be spotted through the shadowy wood.
Also here is an average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb. A poised middle-aged woman stands solemnly beneath an arbor of thorns, protected from the miserable icy rain. Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand.
A cold sleet clatters down unseen in the dark night.
Cardinal Exits: northeast and northwest
Yasin stands exposed in the icy rain, speaking mostly to a poised middle-aged woman. (Room Pose Set)
A poised middle-aged woman frowns at Yasin.
You have emoted: Sassafrass crunches back in across the ever-sleetier ground, and looks not terribly pleased to find a poised middle-aged woman still here with Yasin and an average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb.
A poised middle-aged woman says, "...it is true that words do not absolve actions. But what do you truly know of my actions so far? I killed the madman. I gave dear Firo medicine. I borrowed the books, and did not lie about my intentions there, and have sent them back to town --" [in Ruvic]
You have emoted: Sassafrass says, "Surely we're all done here now," [in Ruvic] with a hard look to a poised middle-aged woman, as if this statement were mostly meant for her.
Looking to you, a poised middle-aged woman says, "And I have warned you about a multitude of facts, even so, while being willing to aid in the lifting of curses." [in Ruvic]
A slush of icy particles coats seemingly everything, making footing treacherous as still more sleet slices down from on high.
You have emoted: Sassafrass stares at a poised middle-aged woman with a look as cold as the ice falling from the sky. "Maybe next time you borrow something, you might at least send them back to the person or place that you borrowed them from." [in Ruvic]
A poised middle-aged woman folds her arms beneath a mismatched scrap leather cloak, pensively. "Take care on your way back to town," [in Ruvic] she says. "There are wolves in the forest." [in Ruvic] There's a dreamy note to her voice then as she adds, "We used to run with them, long ago. My kind." [in Ruvic]
Orange reflections glisten in surrounding raindrops as Yasin's lit pitch-topped torch burns.
Yasin shivers again as he is coated in the icy sleet. He ticks a look to you, then an average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb. His eyes eventually drift back to a poised middle-aged woman and he says, "You state some truths, yes. I cannot tell where the truths *end*." [in Ruvic] A pause. "How do I know to listen to you? Where did you 'send' the books?" [in Ruvic]
(Quietly): An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb looks around those gathered, thinking for several moments. "Those actions all told do not incline me to trust, any of them. Only wariness." [in Ruvic]
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb looks around those gathered, thinking for several moments. "Those actions all told do not incline me to trust, any of them. Only wariness." [in Ruvic] (fix).
"Things... slide through space, sometimes," [in Ruvic] a poised middle-aged woman attempts to explain to Yasin. "I *sent* them back to town. I felt them..." [in Ruvic]
A poised middle-aged woman says, "...slide into the company of a foreigner. So, I assume they will find their way to you... or you will find them..." [in Ruvic]
With a small shrug, a poised middle-aged woman says, "At some point." [in Ruvic]
You have emoted: Sounding not a little outraged, Sassafrass exclaims in a sputter, "Y-you used *magic* to send my books back to town?!" [in Ruvic]
A poised middle-aged woman lifts both eyebrows at you, without much retort.
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb quietly questions a poised middle-aged woman, "And will you help cure them of the curse if they read them?" [in Ruvic]
Yasin looks completely lost in thought after that explanation from a poised middle-aged woman, as if trying to process those particular words. He refocuses on an average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb at their question.
Hard icy rain pelts the surrounding area.
Looking to an average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb with a nod, a poised middle-aged woman says, "Once we develop the best possible cure for this curse, the ritual could be repeated for any who have suffered." [in Ruvic]
You have emoted: Sassafrass repeats in a mutter, almost more to herself than to a poised middle-aged woman, ".. used magic, to send a collection of magically-warded books, back to town..." [in Ruvic]
You have emoted: Sassafrass raises one shaking hand to press it to her forehead, letting out a long sigh through gritted teeth. "No one," [in Ruvic] she states flatly, "Is going to trust any cure *you* could possibly *pretend* to devise." [in Ruvic]
Orange reflections glisten in surrounding raindrops as Yasin's lit pitch-topped torch burns.
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb flicks their gaze to you and mildly states, "Firouzeh will, so I suppose we see." [in Ruvic] rubbing their forehead after.
Yasin shakes his head, then, though it isn't clear what is meant by the gesture. "Your medicine did help Firouzeh, but it also hurt her. Changed her." [in Ruvic] He's speaking, but it isn't exactly to a poised middle-aged woman as it is to the reflection of his torchlight against the icy cold raindrops. "You claim a guardian, but at what cost is your... protection." [in Ruvic]
You have emoted: Sassafrass only grits her teeth harder at those words from an average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb.
Narrowing her eyes at you and speaking rather calmly, a poised middle-aged woman says, "Oh, I can think of at least one person who is devising the cure alongside me, young tinker. But perhaps you would prefer that everyone suffers. I wonder why." [in Ruvic]
A poised middle-aged woman's words seem to capture Yasin's attention and he focuses more directly there.
Solemnly turning to meet Yasin's focus, a poised middle-aged woman says, "Was it the medicine that changed her? She seems to be striving never to use it. I believe it was not the medicine that could do any such thing, though yea, it is dangerous if overused. But rather, your regard has damaged a friendship." [in Ruvic]
You have emoted: Sassafrass retorts snippily to a poised middle-aged woman, "Considering I'm half of 'everyone', then clearly it's just because I love suffering." [in Ruvic] Letting out a scoffing breath, she turns to look between Yasin and an average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb.
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb frowns at a poised middle-aged woman, "She widely warned to not look at them. That warning was ignored, one of possibly many lapses in judgment." [in Ruvic]
You have emoted: Sassafrass says sharply, "We should go. We won't get anything from this woods-witch with her truth-twisting tongue." [in Ruvic]
With a tip of her chin, a poised middle-aged woman tells an average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb, "Ask her why she is carrying the books. And why she would prefer that they never be read." [in Ruvic]
A poised middle-aged woman wraps a mismatched scrap leather cloak around herself, no doubt feeling the chill even beneath an arbor of thorns's shelter.
The sharp rattle of ice quiets to a cold clicking as the sleet lessens slightly.
Yasin shakes his head towards a poised middle-aged woman, but there's a lack of confidence in the gesture. "I think you're... taking advantage of her, in her weakened state." [in Ruvic] There's a lack of confidence in his voicing of this statement, too. He shakes his head again, before focusing on you.
Orange reflections glisten in surrounding raindrops as Yasin's lit pitch-topped torch burns.
Wryly, a poised middle-aged woman tells Yasin, "If so, I would not be teaching her anything to help herself." [in Ruvic]
You have emoted: Sassafrass shakes her thawb sharply, sending little pellets of ice flying. She presses her lips tightly together. "I'm carrying them because they're mine," [in Ruvic] she says, though she sounds rather sullen about this.
Yasin looks back to a poised middle-aged woman for a moment at that wry remark. He says nothing in direct reply. His jaw shifts, uncomfortably. Every aspect of his comportment depicts unease.
Reminding you, a poised middle-aged woman asks, "Aren't they older than you, young tinker?" [in Ruvic]
Yasin briefly ticks a look to you at that question.
"We should go," [in Ruvic] Yasin then says. He looks to an average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb.
You have emoted: Glowering at a poised middle-aged woman, Sassafrass tells her, "People own a great many things that are older than them." [in Ruvic]
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb looks to you, their brows remaining frowning as they listen, then back to a poised middle-aged woman "She was very desperate for a cure. She may be learning something from you, but you have more power over her in your promises of cures." [in Ruvic] they fall silent for several moments and quietly add, "And so of course I worry." [in Ruvic]
You have emoted: As her teeth begin to click together more sharply than the sleet, Sassafrass nods shortly to Yasin and agrees, "We should." [in Ruvic]
A poised middle-aged woman shakes her head slightly with a 'tsk' at you. However, she says or does nothing to stop the group from a seemingly imminent departure.
The stars twinkle brightly in the night sky.
It is night, the hour of ashes.
With resentful unease, you think: Why should anyone question why I have them? Nobody questions why all these other people have the things they do.
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb gives a shivering nod to Yasin, their attention lingering on a poised middle-aged woman a moment after.
Yasin is soaking wet in the sleet, and his torch is barely putting out any light, pitch-caused flames fighting against the wet. He ticks a brief look back to a poised middle-aged woman, a complicated expression in his eyes.
You fall in with Yasin.
You have emoted: Sassafrass steps up to stand just behind Yasin, in such a way as to suggest she's going to start pushing him out of there if she can't simply follow him.
Yasin gives a nod to an average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb in return, and then begins to walk away from a poised middle-aged woman. His steps are slow at first, the weight of each step heavy. He ticks another look back to a poised middle-aged woman as he begins to depart.
A uncomfortable sprinkling of icy pellets descends from the sky, lightly stinging exposed skin.
You have emoted: Sassafrass, in contrast, spares a poised middle-aged woman not another glance as she goes.
Yasin starts towards the northeastward direction. (Stand - near the northeastward direction -)
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb follows Yasin. (Stand - near the northeastward direction -)
Sassafrass follows Yasin. (Stand - near the northeastward direction -)
Orange reflections glisten in surrounding raindrops as Yasin's lit pitch-topped torch burns.
A poised middle-aged woman nods in farewell, keeping both arms beneath a mismatched scrap leather cloak. "You know where to find me," [in Ruvic] she calls after the group. "Walk gently in my forest, younglings! And do not forget to warn your friend." [in Ruvic]
Yasin gives only a slight shake of his head, uneasy, as he leaves the places beside the thorny arbor.
Yasin walks northeast, with heavy footfalls.
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb walks northeast, with careful steps.
You walk northeast.
You feel a terrible prickling fearful sensation on the back of her neck from turning her back to the woman. But she refuses to look back, or act cowed.
[The Westwood, Amongst Tangled Briars]
It takes a painfully protracted battle to journey within the untender embrace of the briar thicket, with the heavy thorns snagging and jabbing every step and shove of the way. Still, a winding path does emerge between the southwest and the east, for anyone brave enough to struggle through the initial obstacles of the prickly trail. Above, the jagged fringes of gloam pines encroach upon any hopeful glimpse of sky.
Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand. An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb is here.
Freezing rain clicks down sharply from dark skies.
Cardinal Exits: southwest and east
Yasin is dead silent as he leads the group through the tangled briars, amongst the freezing rain.
Yasin walks away through the prickly hedge of briars, heading east, with heavy footfalls.
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb walks away through the prickly hedge of briars, heading east, with careful steps.
You walk through the prickly hedge of briars, heading east.
[The Westwood, Before a Wall of Briars]
A wall of briars rears up from the ground here, laden with fearsome thorns. Though one might still attempt to struggle through it westward, this would not appear to be a comfortable endeavor. Gloam pines and mistwoods grow here among yews and Ruveran oaks, lightening the weight of the looming forest -- but the pleasant woods only serve to draw contrast with the perilous tangle of prickles to the west.
Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand. An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb is here.
Freezing rain clicks down sharply from dark skies.
Cardinal Exits: south
Yasin walks south, with heavy footfalls.
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb walks south, with careful steps.
You walk south.
Yasin walks southeast, with heavy footfalls.
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb walks southeast, with careful steps.
You walk southeast.
[The Westwood, Winding Forest Trail]
The narrow trail cuts through demurely below the ancient trees of the Westwood, discreetly skirting mighty trunks and hoary old roots. Soft limestone crumbles in some sections underfoot, and intermittently one can hear the muffled roar of the ocean crashing against cliffs far to the south. Here is a round flat rock.
Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand. An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb is here.
Freezing rain clicks down sharply from dark skies.
Cardinal Exits: northeast and northwest
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb is frowning as they follow along silently.
A howl in a light mezzo-soprano can be distantly made out from the northwestward direction.
Yasin keeps an eye on the area.
Yasin walks northeast, with heavy footfalls.
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb walks northeast, with careful steps.
You walk northeast.
[The Westwood, Narrow Trail]
Yews, gloampines, and mistwoods flock the edges of this trail through the gradually thinning forest. Patches of limestone show through the loamy earth below, littered with orange needles accumulated over many seasons.
Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand. An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb is here.
Freezing rain clicks down sharply from dark skies.
Cardinal Exits: northeast and southwest
Yasin shivers as he hears that howl.
Yasin walks northeast, with heavy footfalls.
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb walks northeast, with careful steps.
You walk northeast.
[The Westwood, Narrow Trail]
The trail wends its way amidst ancient trees, their intertwining canopies often hung with an enduring cool mist. Aged evergreen needles provide a softening carpet across spongy loam and crumbling limestone.
Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand. An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb is here.
Freezing rain clicks down sharply from dark skies.
Cardinal Exits: southeast and southwest
You have emoted: Sassafrass stumbles her way along after Yasin, gaze fixed on the dark night before them.
(Quietly): "Guardian, my ass." [in Ruvic] Yasin mutters in frustration as he leads them out.
Yasin walks southeast, with heavy footfalls.
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb walks southeast, with careful steps.
You walk southeast.
* * * * *
You walk north.
[St Loomis, Main Street, Outside the Seaglass Inn]
Faded scraps of withering creeper leaves flutter from the eaves of a two-story building on the western side of cobbled Main Street. The structure's creaking wooden sign is painted with a pale green shard over the etched symbols of a tankard and a bed, with a matching sigil marking a rustic wooden gate in the stone wall that adjoins the building on the north. A neat cedar bench set to one side of the doors allows a fine view of the street out of the way of traffic. Off to the north the intersection with Post Street is visible, where crowds gather around the central fountain with its miniature lighthouse beacon.
A mug with a curved handle is near the southward direction.
Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand. An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb is here.
A cold sleet clatters down unseen in the dark night.
Cardinal Exits: south, north, and west: rustic wooden gate (open)
Other: the Seaglass Inn: set of double doors (open)
A small muddy puddle in the cobbled street offers up a mirror for the sky.
Yasin looks uneasy as he peers towards the doors of the inn, but that is clearly his intended destination. Judging by his sopping wet and freezing state -- he's still shivering -- it might just be the fire that's calling to him. He heads in that direction.
Yasin walks into the Seaglass Inn through the set of double doors, with heavy footfalls.
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb walks into the Seaglass Inn through the set of double doors, with careful steps.
You walk into the Seaglass Inn through the set of double doors.
You are no longer following Yasin.
[St Loomis, Seaglass Inn, Common Room]
The common room of this inn is homely but welcoming. Greying floorboards and chipped wainscoting show the buiding's age, but it appears well maintained nonetheless. Beside the entry door sits a small table, positioned to enjoy the view through a curtained picture window, while another table lurks in a dimly-lit corner. A generous hearth faces a space set with two trestle tables, with a third running parallel to the bar. Several stools are neatly set in front, while on the bar's other side a swinging door leads to the clamor, warmth, and heat of the kitchens. A wide staircase with a heavy-duty balustrade stands to the side of the bar, ascending to the second story.
A menu full of small drawings is left open on one side of the bar. A notice titled 'Beware Yew Wood' is pasted up near a dark large warm hearth. A page torn from a book is stuck up with glue on a wall next to up a wide staircase. A pile of 65 bundle of firewoods is near a lit large warm hearth.
Zayid is sitting at a table by the window, holding a mug with a curved handle in his right hand. A hunched, elder woman is sitting near a lit large warm hearth, holding a mug with a curved handle in her right hand and holding a brass-capped reed cane in her left hand. An austere Sirdabi woman with copper eyes is here. Yasin is here, holding a lit pitch-topped torch in his left hand. An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb is here.
Cardinal Exits: west: kitchen doors (open)
Other: up a wide staircase and out: set of double doors (open)
The warm and comforting clamor of a commoner dining establishment fills the inn.
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb goes to stand near a lit large warm hearth, joining a hunched, elder woman.
An average-height person wearing woollen traveling garb walks over to a lit large warm hearth with swift, shivering steps ignoring much else a moment.
A lean, ink-eyed man lowers the hood of woollen traveling garb.
You have emoted: Sassafrass shifts her gaze back towards the door out as she mutters, "I'm going to sleep." [in Ruvic]
Sassafrass starts towards the frame of the open set of double doors. (Stand - near the frame of the open set of double doors -)
Yasin enters the inn looking like a freezing wet lost pup. He looks back as you lingers by the doorway. "Wait," [in Ruvic] he calls.
Yasin goes to stand near the frame of the open kitchen doors.
You have emoted: Sassafrass doesn't seem to care a bit for any further farewells than this as she makes for the exit.
You walk out of the Seaglass Inn through the set of double doors.