The House of Rods and Chains
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"The House of Rods and Chains; a ruined palace atop a rotting Messenger. Now home to uninvited guests of a rubbery persuasion."
"You near the House of Rods and Chains, a ruined complex atop a great dead beast. Once it was the favourite Messenger of the sun. Before it disobeyed."
"The Repentant Devil examines the House of Rods and Chains from the window. 'A reminder of how the Judgements treat those who defy them.'"[1]
The House of Rods and Chains is the rotting, stinking corpse of the dead Messenger of the Halved.
A Sense of Déjà Vu
"'Hm? Oh, sorry. It reminds me of old London, and the Echo Bazaar.'"[1]
Once, the House was "the favourite messenger of the sun"[1] - or in this case, the suns, because the Halved was once a binary star. The Halved murdered it for defying an unknown command, after which its servants fled - all seven, except for one.[2]
Similar to the the Echo Bazaar, seven spires once stretched across the messenger's carapace, though only one remains intact.[3] It still has seven doors: Leather, Rubber, Chitin, Scale, Fur, Flesh, and Feather. [4]
It is home to Rubbery Men, which came from London "in a ship forged from broken shells," and its sole remaining Curator.[2] There are also some zee-captains, who are mysteriously covered in eye markings.[5]
Commingling on the Carapace
"The Rubbery Men have taken over this spiral shaped atrium. They gather here to trade amber and share songs of loss and regret. Its shape gives it excellent acoustics – the songs resonate from the walls, doubling the volume and timbre of their voices."[6]
The Rubbery Men residing here run a shop called the Throat of Lamentation in the spire that lies beyond the Chitin Door. Within this atrium the Rubbery Men also congregate to sing of their losses and regrets. The Laments are as follows:[6]
- The Lament of the Old Sun
- The Lament of London
- The Lament of False Hope
- The Lament of Axile
Deeper within the House lies the Drowning Coils,[7] which lead to the Shapeling Vats. Here, the Rubbery Men work together to perform amber-alchemy. Golden amber is especially desired, but failed experiments result in worthless black sludge.[8] Deeper still is the Spawning Morass, a massive cave filled with howling, feral Rubbery Men. The Rubberies here built pyres that spew apocyanic light.[9]
Curators in Exile
"Correspondence is seared into this broken wax seal. One shard reads: 'Not to be forgot.' Another: 'What awaits. Why we must stay.' There are other words, hard to piece together: Pennies and Pipes; Barleycorn and Menagerie."[10]
Like the Echo Bazaar, the House of Rods and Chains had its Curators. However, many of their paths diverged after its death.[2]
