216. The Lighted Structure
Looking through the window, you see an older woman sitting at a spit, a cobbled-together collection of machine parts slowly turning the carcass of a boar over the flame. The distinctive smell of the fire isn’t coming from wood — the woman has rigged a series of pipes up to a large canister of Blaze.
Despite being in a partially-collapsed building, the area is quite clean and meticulous. The flooring, some kind of deep brown square tiling, has been swept completely free of dirt. Potted plants, some fruits and herbs with others just decorative, line the room. Knitted curtains hang in the windows, closed in all except the one you’re looking through.
Shifting to get a better look around the room, you make enough noise to attract the woman’s attention. She beckons you inside, standing and striding across the room to close the curtains. Her voice cracks from disuse, and takes a few moments to get up to speed:
Come, come. Sit. Please. Thank you for visiting me. Are any of you injured? Do you need any help?
She offers healing herbs and poultices to any who need them. Similarly, she brings in clay jugs of water and beer, along with clay mugs for any who want them. The boar won’t be ready for a few more hours, she says, but she can offer up some dried fruit, jerky, and bread.
In the midst of all that, she remembers to introduce herself: Janti.
Now that you’ve gotten a closer look at her, you can see that Janti is likely not as old as she first appeared — maybe in her fourth or fifth decade. Her skin has the weathering of someone who has spent years of her life working out in the sun. The strong, ropy muscles beneath show she’s not afraid of hard labor, either.
She’s dressed in a simple woven frock over woven pants, though with some modifications. Leather and machine cable belts around her waist and thighs hold the fabric tight to her, maybe reducing the opportunity to snag the clothing on anything. Instead of pockets in the fabric, the belts have a number of odd-sized pouches and bags hanging from them. In fact, you notice other belts hanging in a corner — one with woodworking tools looped into it, another with machine tools, and more.
Her hair is cropped close enough to her skull that only the vaguest patches of white and what may be black or brown can be seen.
She doesn’t appear to be wearing any black and gold, or stripes, or woven-grass accents which would mark her as Utaru. Similarly, she doesn’t have the fur or ink of a Nora, the loud colors and metal clasps of an Oseram, the cabling or paint of a Banuk, or the reds and skin coverage of a Tenakth. She seems to want to present as someone apart from such concerns.
If asked how long she’s lived here, she’ll tell you it’s been at least twenty or twenty-five years. She won’t go into details about what drove her to this place, but will stick to a story of “needing space and peace”.
If asked how long it’s been since she’s seen anyone passing through, she’ll tell you she gets visitors every two years or so. She used to get them more regularly — mostly teens who were dared to go as far outside the borders of Plainsong as they could before they got too scared and turned back. Whatever has driven the machines to increase the caravans on so many ancient roads has led to fewer guests. In recent years, it’s been more people like her, just passing through on their searches for space and peace.
If asked about the signs, she’ll claim credit for the logs and carved stone, but not the signs along the roads in Plainsong. She hasn’t been back inside Plainsong in over fifteen years. Those signs, or at least some version of them, were present in the years leading up to that, and she doesn’t know who made or maintains them.
If asked about the gulf, she’ll tell you of the one time she ventured that far south, maybe ten or twelve years ago. The journey took her the better part of three months, round-trip. Following various rivers, she had to work to avoid a huge Ruins due south of here: Spider’s Web. It was crawling with machines and would have taken days to walk across. Later, she reached a second days-wide Ruins with its southeast edge on a lake, which she named the Floating Ruins. Except the lake, after days of walking, led to a coast with no end. The coast had a series of broad islands protecting it from the infinite waters beyond.
Machines of all types and sizes roamed the land between Ruins and coast. Stormbirds filled the skies, bringing with them icy, salted rain which came down in thick sheets. The backs and fins of huge machine-fish, the size of dozens of Snapmaws, could be seen slicing through the waters. Metal buildings, made by machines instead of the Old Ones, rose out of the water and into the sky, attracting the storms along with an unending stream of Glinthawks and other machine-birds which landed on the water and interacted with the machine-fish.
Janti, unsure on how to process such sights, turned around and came back, vowing to be content making of her life what she could right here.
She’s had maybe a half-dozen visitors since then, each speaking more and more about the increasing derangement of the machines. While nothing the travelers said ever compared to what she had seen with her own eyes, it gave her some perspective on the increased machine activity.
If asked whether she would accompany or guide you to the coast, she will politely refuse. She is happy here, and has worked out a sustainable life, with her caches of supplies hidden throughout the surrounding ruins.
She doesn’t have a name for the area to the south, nor the route to the coast. With a cynical, self-judgmental tone, she suggests “Janti’s Folly” might be appropriate.
If asked whether she knows of any other people in the area, or along the route to the coast, she doesn’t know any specifics. Travelers will often give general directions they’re thinking of settling, but she’s never had the same traveler come back again, and has not run into anyone else in her day-to-day routine.
If you’re feeling generous, Janti will take any machine parts or weapons you offer. She doesn’t have shards or anything else of value in return, but she offers to draw you a map of what she remembers of her trip. She’s also quite the tinkerer and botanist, and may be able to teach incremental skills to characters who spend a few days with her.
When you’re ready to move along, the map provides three possible routes.
A river to the south leads to a large system of lakes to the southeast, at entry 217. An ancient road leads south-southwest to the huge ruin Janti describe, Spider’s Web, at entry 218. Avoiding both, you could head straight to the Floating Ruins at entry 219.