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Manse Atelier (Status: Grand Opening!)

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Located on a riverside cliff, emptying into a delta beside the isolated Sidereal Lake, a large structure can be seen peering over the expanse. At night, it might look as though a lighthouse, any official map designates it either as "Sidereal Lake Firewatch Station" or "Erebus Museum and Inn of The Great Langley Expedition". In truth is more exciting however, as any visitor is quick to learn that it is also a Wizard Tower, owned and operated by one J. H. A. Aldoid, the former owner of Artifacture Unlimited and Arcmagus. As all retired mages, the magician has sought seclusion in Hermitage, As all innkeepers, so oft is an adventurer in need, wandering through these lands, that shelter and merchandising is in great need, and so operates a small general store and Inn attached to the central tower.

Erebus Pub and Inn

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Making up the more homely portion of the structure, a simple beer hall and inn is in operation. With several long tables where the more itinerant can find their food and try some of the owner's peculiar brand of Purl (Wormwood Ale) or even some Stone Soup, although in truth, the Host is more than capable of cooking up whatever one might be inclined to taste.

Menu:

  • Sachet of Candied Lemon, Lime, and Hibiscus
  • Hermetic Jar of Pickles
  • Top Hat Hard Candy
  • Purl, Aged Wormwood Ale, sourced from coconino marsh. (Hallucinogenic effects rare)
  • Stone Soup and Sourdough- made from organically sourced soupstones

(Kitchen may be able to provide custom order on request and inclination)

Lodging: 

  • Stabling and Fodder for Mounts
  • Garage space for coaches and other vehicles
  • Rooms are traditionally nothing more than a water snake (a large pot that fills with water after being emptied, traditionally just bailed out the window), a chamberpot and a bed. Additional accommodation again to owner's discretion.


The Great Langley Expedition Museum

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Compiling the history of the first great cartographic expedition of Fracture, lead by the great and divisive Erebus Langley, many original texts, resources and historical artifacts of the Langley Expedition reside here, though nothing or any actual magical or technological value. Mostly preserved flora and fauna, some of there cartographic and expedition equipment, as well as journals and now outdated maps created in the early days of Fracture's history.

 

Atelier And Shop

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(Pictured, Kitchen)

Outside of occult study, there are a great many workshops inside the stonework and lower holds of the structure, owing to the trades as a master artificer and artisan. There is a buisness counter and a shop as needed in the upper portion where Adventurers can purchase needed sundries and equipment, as well as commission artifacts and spells, as well as sell off and fence rewards and materials obtained from exploration and adventure. As the constant nature of such work, there is commonly smoke pouring up from the outer chimney at all hours of the day, keeping the various furnaces and boilers heated as well as providing a fume hood for any one of the various alchemy labs.


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(Shop reference)

 

Mage's Tower and Residence

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Forbidden to anyone save the owner through active spell and ritual work, the large central tower, standing an impressive 8 stories at its highest point, this tower is their personal library and research station for Magical, Occult, and whatever studies might capture the interest of the former Arcmagus. At the very top sits the residence proper, the modest lodgings befitting a hermit. Likewise, giving the increased air traffic, there is a rookery on premises, where all manner of birds are able to come and go and seek lodging as well.

Edited by Last Magician

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Spoiler

Background music, if you so choose.

 

Grovel wandered the opens fields, lost and panicked. The slave had tried to make his way to Hell's Gate, somehow straying from the path and aimlessly drifting through the harsh environment. His makeshift backpack filled with only the necessities, which to the slave was just bread and water. The sun was beginning to set, the nocturnal wildlife was waking from its slumber. The bird chirping faded away, replaced with distant howls and scurrying rodents. Grovel span in circles, trying to spot any sign of life or structures. But after minutes of looking, it seemed he was alone.

"Oh no no no, I've done it again!" He giggled, realizing he's once again messed up. "Master would be angry if he was still alive!.....Poor master...."

A heavy gust of wind shook Grovels raggedy attire, sending shivers running through him. As the dark took over he found himself a tree and leaned up against it, deciding to settle down for the night. But just as he did, a distant light could be seen just peeking through a treeline. Jumping to his feet and and sprinting like a frenzied wolf, the slave raced towards the beacon like a moth to the flames.

"Ahh yes..Lights!"

Distance structures soon came into view, stable and inns getting closer. Grovel slowed down once he'd reached the general area, huffing and puffing as he tried to catch his breath. Walking past the stables, he eyed the various mounts and pets with eyes glistening like a child at a toy shop. After window shopping, the raider slowly opened the inn door and peeked inside. Eyeing the staff and patrons, once feeling safe enough, Grovel powered walked to the counter and spoke to the person behind. 

"I would like food, please! Food that makes me full, like the bread does!"

Edited by Rabbit

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The place was almost empty at the moment, what few patrons mostly either starting to drift into stupor or already finding their lodgings, but as was oft the case, there were always a few straggles. The door sang with twinkle of bells as it shut behind the mountain of a figure before he had made his way to the bar. Sleepy azure eyes minded the figure, taking no great alarm and instead setting down the glass I was polishing, waving my hand over it, as it filled with bone broth, before taking out one of the bread baskets, and setting it face down on the counter. Lifting it up, a pile of loaves rolled about, all fresh and warm, as though just cooled from the oven. I scooped them in before setting them before the man. Producing a bowl from behind my back, It set it down beside the bread basket and poured the tankard of soup into it.

"One Sop for ya," I smiled, fixing my vest and going back to cleaning the countertop, "Anything else I can get for you? Drink? A room? We still have a few vacancies, should it be required."

Edited by Last Magician

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10 hours ago, Last Magician said:

"One Sop for ya," I smiled, fixing my vest and going back to cleaning the countertop, "Anything else I can get for you? Drink? A room? We still have a few vacancies, should it be required."

Grovel took the bowl and began wolfing down his meal, somehow drinking what should be eaten. The slave licked the bowl clean, then settling it down on the counter. He pondered what the worker had asked, what did he want. Grovel sat, humming and harring. The simple questions plaquing his mind. It took some time, but he eventually realised what he truly wanted. 

"More sop, please." He pushed the bowl closer, stomach empty and growling. "You make good sop, yes!" Grovel reached into his cloak, pulling out a  giant handful of gold coins and setting them on the counter, easily enough to buy all sop in Terrenus. "And then a....drink of water......and then aaaaa.......room please!" He paused between each want, the list going on and on.

Edited by Rabbit

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A strange sight, to see one drink what would be eaten and inhale the rest, but not an uncommon one. Trail rations were always so salted, dehydration a common ailment to most that came in. To lick a bowl, as uncouth as it may seem, it registered as a complement to me.

"More sop coming right up." it was a simple dish, bread and something runnier than bread to mop up, but always a safe bet. I work behind the counter this time, not wanting to go through all the rigmarole again for what amounted to conjuring soup and bread, but a small mountain of gold coins spilling onto the bar is enough to give me pause. I smile, taking one coin from the bunch. "Oh my, how gracious of you," I start, placing again a fresh bundle of bread and bowl of soup in front of you, knowing full well to keep it coming, "All services of the tavern are free of charge however, M'lord. The owner is a Magus, and therefor, in no need of currency. All need do is ask. A room however, does require a marker, and so I'll take care of that now."

Closing my hands around the coin, I shook it in my hands a moment before tossing it on the countertop, a gold key falling out in its place.

"The coin will be returned when you decide to move on down the line," I nod, pulling out an ice-cold bottle of water, popping the wire cork and pouring it into a tankard I draw from under the counter, setting it next to your bowl. As you work through the bowl, whenever it seems to get near the bottom, the bowl refills. Same with the bread. Same with the water, "Would you like us to serve your supper in your room, M'lord? Else, a minstrel should be performing here shortly, once he's back from his smoke break should you wish to keep your seat for the moment."

Edited by Last Magician

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As quickly as the bowl refilled, it was gone. Grovel was digging into his meal, washing down the soggy bread with water. The slaves strange addiction to bread was eventually fulfilled, with Grovel setting down his bowl and letting out a sigh of relief. His journey had been one of panic and endless walking, making him forget to eat along the way. But with his stomach full, he finally let himself relax within the presence of others.

"Magus? Yes, sounds like the name of a master! Is Magus powerful? Powerful like master!?" Grovel questioned, curious about the leader of the area. 

Grovel takes the key, sliding it into his cloak pocket. The slave takes a moment to look around, notting the various decorations and items spread around. The inn held a homely feeling, one that the slave aspired to achieve once he settled down in his own place. Grovel, turning back to the barkeeper, curious as to who was coming.

"Minstrel? What's a minstrel? That sounds like food! Is the minstrel tasty?"

Edited by Rabbit

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I tap my chin, taking a thoughtful appraisal of the question, "I don't know that he would say so, or whom your 'Master' was, but I suppose so. He was formerly the formost authority on The Magical Arts in these lands, though they seemed to have fall out of favor in his absence. It is why he has chosen to sequester himself up in his tower."

I can't help but laugh at your second query, sorting the remains of your bread and setting your dishes in the sink, "You don't eat a minstrel. They are a person who plays music, sings songs telling of adventures and turns of fate. The going ons of the land. I'll be going on my own break now, so I can usher them in if you like. Otherwise, your room should be up the stairs, through the double doors and first door on the left."

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Grovel listened, curious as to the other master. The man sounded powerful, but was it up to masters standards? "Ahh, yes-yes. Master was also very powerful with magic. He made himself immortal with it! Yes-yes, very old master! He once killed three dragons and then combined then into one! It was his favorite mount, named gooper! Scary master was!"

"Oh yes, go rest!" Grovel turned to the door, waiting for the music. "I'll wait for the music! Grovel likes music, but not the angry kind! Only the gentle kind, the one that makes you sleep." Grovel say in anticipation, ready for the show to being. He'd always enjoyed relaxing tunes.

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I blinked, listening to the story about the dragons, "Thats a new one. Gooper. Neat," I smiled, not wanting to think about just how horrifying a sight that must of been, instead wanting to keep things chipper. 

When you turned, I kneeled under the bar. Closing my eyes, I felt through the grounds for the troubadour, finding him outside out back, and crossed over. Opening my eyes again, I picked up my guitar, and head back inside, stepping on my cigarette before I went in.

With a string of wild flamenco, I entered through the back door, making sure my Topper was properly fixed. My voice danced along a scale, starting my aria off with a whimsical chorus before I took my seat across the bar, pretty obvious that the new guest would put together that I looked and sounded exactly like the barkeep.

"Once up a time so silly,
There was a town beneath a hilly
Filled with magic and a crazy mage
They sought through art to turn the page.

BLAURG! THE TOWN WAS BLAURG!
NOW IT HAS ANOTHER NAME AND IT ISNT NEARLY AS SO STRANGE

As it use to beeeeeeeeeee.
Oh can't you seeeeeee.
Now the magic fleeeeeeees.
Was this as it was supposed to beeeeee?

Then one day came a giant Zepplin
Burned the town down and sent its souls to heaven

Or was it hell?
And the city fell
Was this as it was supposed to beeeeee?
Oh can't you seee?
So the Mage did fleeeeee
In to his weeeeeeeeeell.

BLAIR! OH IT ISNT FAIR 
YOU HAD ANOTHER NAME THAT WAS SO VERY STRANGE!

Now some things have since happened
Can a war be civil with the guards attacking
Maybe one day there'll be an eruption
Maybe we're already on the eve of destruction.

SAINT! WHYD YOU ALLOW THIS TAINT?
YOUR SILENCE IS SO VERY STRAAAAAAANGE

But really who know?
I don't and it shows!
And I might sound a jerkle!
But times a flat circle?
AND THE WHEEL SHE IS TURNING AROUND AGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN!"

Finishing off with a blistering series of chords before pulling out a wormwood ale from behind the bar and using my guitar neck to pop the cap before downing it hungrily.



 

Edited by Last Magician

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Grovel sat patiently, not wanting to miss the show. Luckily for him, he was not left waiting long. The one who once served him his meal walked in, stringed instrument in hand. Sitting in excitement and ready for the show, he listened to the song play out. It reminded him of the many songs played by a bard he once traveled with, one of few you had been kind to him as his journey across the lands began. Once all was complete, Grovel was ready to call it in for the night. Taking his leave, the slave eventually found his way to his room. He threw himself onto his bed, allowing the tiredness of his travels to set in. Only once had morning hit would he sort out his situation, ready to move on. 

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There are nights, rare few, when sleep seems to just open up, a slumber that welcomes as one is wrapped up in comfort and rest. The lands of sleep are quiet place after all, and so the door that could only be found in sleep would be allowed to open. And so amid such gentle repose, a vision would come. It was of nothing grand or complex- merely a puppet booth resting within the mind. A shiny coin would be sitting on the ground with a little sign with a slot. 1 coin for show on the sign above it. 

Now the dream could of ended, and the morning come, but amid their own dreams, perhaps a strange contact could be made.

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Grovel woke from his slumber, the slaves heavy frame clambering for his gear through sheer instinct. Upon falling out his bed with a heavy thud, the realization that morning had come finally hit him. Grabbing and collecting what little he carried, Grovel left the room and locked the door behind him. With loud footsteps like that of a horse, he made his way downstairs and back to the reception where he collected the key. With an large smile, he handed it back to owner. 

"Very nice room, very nice, yes! Thank you!" There was a brief pause as he tried to remember what he needed to ask. "Oh yes, does this place have a forge? My sword, it cries!" Grovel showed his sword to inn owner, looking as tho it was an ancient relic. It appeared to be more rust than true metal, the chips looking as if it'd been purposely made with a serrated edge. "Master, he gave me this sword. Precious, beyond all value!"

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On 12/17/2019 at 2:15 PM, Rabbit said:

Grovel woke from his slumber, the slaves heavy frame clambering for his gear through sheer instinct. Upon falling out his bed with a heavy thud, the realization that morning had come finally hit him. Grabbing and collecting what little he carried, Grovel left the room and locked the door behind him. With loud footsteps like that of a horse, he made his way downstairs and back to the reception where he collected the key. With an large smile, he handed it back to owner. 

"Very nice room, very nice, yes! Thank you!" There was a brief pause as he tried to remember what he needed to ask. "Oh yes, does this place have a forge? My sword, it cries!" Grovel showed his sword to inn owner, looking as tho it was an ancient relic. It appeared to be more rust than true metal, the chips looking as if it'd been purposely made with a serrated edge. "Master, he gave me this sword. Precious, beyond all value!"

I was sitting in my study when I noticed you were awake. I sipped a blended yorkshire, steeping some currants and red clover, a good healing poultice I found. It tasted very earthy and soothing. Curants were sour, but they balanced the bitterness of the tea, the clover really tying it together. Of course, I had switched to Myconid Milk, and when it wasn't busy trying to turn everything around me sentient, it got the job done. But it just wasn't the same as what I longed for. I had spent the night up, partly trying to contact my guest via dreams. That had failed, and so the due recourse was to investigate the tales of the Gooper, but none of my books had rightly attuned to such a story.

After I took it down, you seemed to stir in your room. Closing my eyes, I casted my mind to the counter, and when I opened them, I was standing there in my barkeep outfit as you came down the stairs, quickly pulling a towel out and cleaning the bartop as you came over.

I smiled as you handed me back the key, before quickly squeezing it into my hand, opening it again, and the same coin that used to pay fell onto the counter.

"You are very welcome! There is your coin back, " I beamed, looking back thoughtfully with your inquiry, "A forge? Why certainly."

What fell onto my counter made me smile. 

"My. Well, that will certainly require some restoration work. Quite an heirloom piece. I am glad you can hear its tears, for I hear them as well. Fortunately, it is no great task to mend. " knocking on the barhop, a latch came undone and the side of the barhop began sinking like clockwork. At the same time, the bar shelves began to retract, the flush mirror soon revealing a hidden passage through the mirror, descending downward into a staircase. The walls seemed to be made of wood, but it quickly revealed deep and ornate lake stone foundations. A large underground aquafer revealed. A lake beneath the lake, feeding in from the water of above. Just the faintest light twinkling in the dark of water falling into a further abyss. I had no interest in finding how deep this well went. I had set a tower or two, packed with story after story of walkways between each with platforms between them, forming a kind of grid of various workspaces. Sometimes there were gaps. It was almost as if the workspace itself grew here, some live, clockwork thing that just created workspace and materials as needed. 

I found one of the nearby unused plots, a podium rising up from the ground as though it had been intricately inset. It rose soundlessly, revealing a board showing the flower of life on it. I scribbled my finger across the board, and just as soundlessly, A smithy formed itself around us, tables for all manner of filigree, down to the most minute of adornments were possible. It was only when we were standing inside that I turned and offered my hands.

"If I may?" asking if I could see the piece, "Did you Master say if it did anything in particular or was made of anything special? Was it merely decorative or had it been combat-proven?"

 

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On 12/25/2019 at 6:25 AM, Last Magician said:

"My. Well, that will certainly require some restoration work. Quite an heirloom piece. I am glad you can hear its tears, for I hear them as well. Fortunately, it is no great task to mend. "

"Oh, yes yes. Very old!" Grovel watched as the the various mechanism and clockwork shifted the bar, changing the walls and revealing a great hidden passage. Following closely behind, they came to a great body of water. The slave stopped and stared at it, curious of how far down such an ominous looking thing could travel. Grovel turned to face the various other platforms and structures, giving each one its own time and attention. He was eventually snapped out of his curious daze when the smith work area materialized, as if suddenly place by the gods themselves. 

On 12/25/2019 at 6:25 AM, Last Magician said:

"If I may?" asking if I could see the piece, "Did you Master say if it did anything in particular or was made of anything special? Was it merely decorative or had it been combat-proven?"

"Oh, yes yes. Very combat proven! Killed many it has, seen bloodshed over a hundred years! The sword of my masters masters master! It's a mixture of ercaniron and vakar! It was made to hunt beasts that live in the outer planes!" Grovel unsheathed the sword and presented it, placing it ion the table. "I know the handle is made from a horn, but I don't know what the horn comes from." 

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"A century?" I asked, hefting the blade, only to melt, my projected form failing. 

I sat in my study, my eyes open. This kind and tortured soul was wielding a considerable artifact. This would require a visit in person. He was only left alone a minute, a minute and a half at the most, as a door rose up from the ground beside the forge, staying open only long enough for me to draw myself through. I am sure I looked not unlike the barkeep turn forgemaster he had know, but of course, over-cloak and topper were so rare these days, and I was never without my churchwarden fastened between my lips. Where as my normal projections showed me as a bright and cheery youth, the tired eyes of my true form gave the truth.

"Sorry about that. A Magi must be cautious, but this more then merits a true appearance. Julius Aldoid, Arcmagus, at your service." Offering my hand in a shake of gratitude, though again, white gloves did always come off as disconcerting to some.

"Strange question, but I have a lot of those: The sword ever speak to you? Silly I know it may seem, but well, these sorts of things take on a life of their own." I looked the blade over, checking its balance and heft, any sort of subtle screams of souls trapped in the blade. These things never seemed to miss a trick. "We can trace and source the horn a few different ways. The blade itself ideal for hunting aberrations. Though oft I've seen weapons made of aberrations themselves for such a purpose. Whispering Iron and Actuation Swords. Interesting choice with Hunter's Steel. I would of thought siderite might be more apt, but rarity doesn't often mean quality these days. Usually, I'd just use some Great Work Solvent, but again- that Ercaniron. Makes normally stable processes quite volatile. De-aging the blade is out. So we'll have to do it the old fashioned way. Still. We'll want to get the rust off and then make a negative. From there, we can talk about how we can re-work the metal. I'll have to see if they just bunned the whole thing or decided to microalloy- which would of be very difficult and therefor a likely suspect. Ercaniron is mostly feric, so normally just adding it to steel would be foolish. This will take me... about a week, a week and a half to get it back to its original form. In the meantime, you can have the room and wander the grounds as you wish. Is this satisfactory to you, my friend?"

Edited by Last Magician

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