The Bayou of Endless Regret is exactly as pleasant as the name would suggest. You simply weren't aware that there could be such depth and breadth of horrible, horrible smells. The name, you begin to suspect, is more literal than you first thought and refers simply to the constant regret that all visitors and residents must have regarding the fact that they're not somewhere else.
A few days later you realise that the offense suffered by your nose is nothing compared to the indignities your ears must now suffer. The ghosts that greeted you do not have good accents. There accents, which consist of a southern drawl mixed in with a pigeon version of some obscure riverspeak dialect, are about as far from good as it is possible to be without looping back into 'so bad they're good'. These accents are merely so bad they're awful. Everytime one of those ridiculous 'Cajuns' calls you 'mon ami' it takes every ounce of self control not to detach his vocal cords from his cadaver.
Compared to these crimes against your aesthetic tastes, the disdain shown to you by Gamam is almost invigorating. Meera for her part remains just as aloof. Hidden behind a veil she nonetheless manages to display an air of detached aloofness that keeps everyone away from her.
[I'm stopping here in case you want to do anything during the foot-part of your journey. When you get to the large village -think typical rural ghost village situated in a smelly swamp- they're going to go into the largest building with the most important people and leave you on the street with nothing to do unless you try some of your tricks. Feel free to describe the village, its inhabitants and its environs - it'll be canon]
"Regrets, I've had a few..."
[Previous night, commit 5m to Methodology of Secrets and gain +3 Investigation speciality in Gather Info; also, is Walking Outside Fate a valid charm pick for your game?]
Stepping as lightly as he could and breathing as shallowly as possible, Whisper strove to keep himself between Cariasik and Antara, trusting in either of them to look after him should something happen. He briefly wondered if he could persuade the Cathak to silence those ghastly ghosts and soothe everyone’s ears before instead humming a melodic tune to distract himself and his companions from the ridiculous pidgin the undead insisted on using and raise morale on the trek.
Managing to keep the worst of the muck and grime from his clothes and tightly-bound hair, he kept alert for anything untoward in the swamp or any sign of betrayal from their guides but such vigilance proved unfounded as they safely arrived in the village. The Blooded had looked distinctly uncomfortable in the environs that were far from salubrious. Indeed, Whisper had not seen so much mud outside a particular Cynis party in his teens. The village itself was definitely nothing to write home about. For one who had seen the splendours of the Heavenly City, this sight was particularly dismal. And for one who was now denied such sights… well, the heartache didn’t really bear dwelling upon. Desperately trying to hold back a tear, he nodded in mute understanding at the request to stay outside as ‘his betters’ traipsed inside the largest building, though he couldn’t help playing some mischief as he made sure that Cariasik could see his touch linger somewhat affectionately on Antara’s arm before they headed in.
Left to his own devices, the young ‘sailor’ took stock of his location. Ideally he would like to hear what they were talking about in the meeting but he could probably get that information out of one of them later. Time for a bit of a stroll, he thought. He wound his way through the village, his nose gradually acclimatising even if his ears wouldn’t. More than that though, he could feel the pervasive nature of the shadowland tainting everything around from the buildings to the land to the inhabitants (he had distinct trouble thinking of ‘undead’ as ‘people’). It was another layer to the cloying humidity of the swamp itself.
To raise his spirits, and those around him, he started singing softly as he wandered around. But no mere ditty, this was a tune calculated to appeal to the shades of the dearly and not-so dearly departed, reminding them of the good times, the better times… he wove his song to loosen their hearts… and their tongues. Playing up his part as the itinerant attendant, Whisper endeavoured to gauge the mood and if there was anything bubbling under the surface of this little backwater.
[OOC: Investigation and/or Socialise – buying 2sux – to gather info on what’s what in the village, find out if anyone knows what going on in the meeting or in Thorns and/or if I spot anything funny/interesting going on.]
eh... you'll have more
Your song acts as a sort of magnet, drawing people out of their huts and houses into the crowd that congregates around you. When you've finished, many float back to their business, but a few insist on buying you a drink and hearing the news from Creation.
In return, they are able to tell you (without quite realising that they're telling you) about the other travellers that have come into town in the last few days. One travels on his own, and has been going on excursions into The Bayou. The sheer fact of his continued existence leads to speculations as to what kind of being has such power. The others are in a group together, and they are holed up in the mayor's house. Nobody seems to know why they're here, although with the arrival of The Dynasts, rumours are rife. Are they slavers? merchants? scavenger lords? deceased realmsman? It seems everyone with a mouth has a theory they're desperate to pour out of it...
[sux 2ds]
Digging deeper
Trusting his instincts (and swallowing his general distaste along with whatever the murk that passes for drink around here), Whisper carries on entertaining those he feels have the most reliable information, trying to press them for more detailed information on the mysterious lone stranger (does he follow the same path into the swamp? Where is he staying? Has he spoken or dealt with anyone in the village?) and the deputation in the mayor's house (which direction did they come from? Any servants/hangers on?).
[Per+Soc/Inv to determine, buy 2s. I also want to know what the purpose/function of the village is? Is there anything special about it or the environs, particularly ruins or rumours? Finally, I want to try and speak to anyone about Thorns and see what people's thoughts are - will pretend to have a relative there who I'm a little worried about, if it will help.]
Your fellow guests
Nobody seems to have any information about the deputation in the mayor's house. However, everybody in town seems to know where the stranger stays - you pick up the address of what sounds like a small hut on the outskirts of town. It's been empty for a while and nobody knows who owns it, though some of them guess it must belong to the mayor.
One of the people in the tavern with you sells him supplies. Apparently the outsider is tall, pale, well-spoken (with a riverspeak accent), wears lamellar armour, and has long blonde hair tied into a ponytale. He tends to leave town heading east, but not always.
Settling down
Whisper sighed into his drink. Well that had been a mild diversion but he was bored again. He had no way of feasibly getting into the mayoral house to see how proceedings were going in – at least without more effort than it was probably worth or he was willing to expend. He needed them to get into Thorns so no point in jeopardising his position in their party just yet.
The mysterious stranger was much more interesting but would it prove too much of a distraction? He briefly considered adopting his messenger-boy persona of Damion but dismissed the idea as it would require too much in the way of explanations. Bored servant waiting around for masters was probably the better angle.
Taking some drink, he took his leave of the tavern, took a walk to the edge of the village and the stranger’s lodgings having taken in the lie of the land as he did so. Finding a relatively dry bit of ground, he leaned back against a tree, pulled out a book from his satchel and settled in to wait for a glimpse of the person returning. Or for someone to come looking for him. Either way, he could be patient – both Unity-of-Whispers and Coronal had taught him that… albeit for different purposes. He sat back and smiled knowingly.