| abstract | - The Dark City of Qui-Tan Sidereal Manse 5 Drawbacks: Maintenance 5 Powers: Wyld Revocation 4 (3), Outside Fate 4, Greater Veil of Shadows 4, Zone of Influence 3, Comfort Zone (1) Less a mere Manse than a twisted, demented city of hedonistic chaos, the Dark City of Qui-Tan lies on the edges of reality, in the Bordermarches. It was forged by the unholy alliance of Set, of the Eclipse Caste of the Solar Exalted, and a band of Fae Folk, exiled from the Wyld for crimes unfathomable, against person or persons unknown; like Set, lacking in great combative power, but skilled at illusion and phantom-works. Qui-Tan subsumed entirely the small township in which Set and the Fae's alliance began, vanishing into the mists of the Wyld to evade the Wyld Hunt set upon him. Five years later, rumors of a Dark City began to be heard, whispers, in the far East; the Dark City of Qui-Tan. No effort to locate it deliberately has ever been successful; all of those who come near it speak of wandering into what seemed to be a dark fog, only to have someone come to them and lead them through the mists; and suddenly, from the fog loomed the walls of a great city. They report being led through the streets of a grand and terrible city, the architecture of which left them at a loss for words; constructions which they could only justify as “Unreal”. The total boundaries of Qui-Tan are marked by the Manse's Zone of Control – it has a radius of just over 1.42 miles, which gives it a surface footprint of just over six and one third square miles, and a total volume of just over twenty five and a third miles. Thanks to the principles of unreality woven into it's construction and the geomantic strangeness that powers it, all of this volume is used; the odd twist of a street may take a turn – straight into the sky, with what looks like a right-handed turn taking you below the city streets, into the warrens below. The inhabitants of Qui-Tan are an unusual mish-mash; seemingly normal humans, Wyld mutants, Fae, Goblins, and more commingle seemingly freely. One hears laughter and screams within the city with considerable frequency, though the source is seldom apparent. In the heart of Qui-Tan is the Manse itself; forged as a magnificent palace from the very stuff of unreality, the Manse at the heart of Qui-Tan is the essence of a lie, sustained by a lie until it becomes truth. An opulent power, whose golden, onion-shaped domes glow in the otherwise somehow-pervasively-foggy and gloomy city, with walls washed white, awaits travelers who are brought to Qui-Tan; emblazoned on every surface is the symbol of a hollow circle, with another solid circle inside it. Within this Manse, creatures magnificent and terribly beautiful waft about their inscrutable business, and all halls lead to the apartment of Set, the God-King of Qui-Tan. Before Set, visitors are asked for news of the outside; they are regaled, and feasted. Those who amuse and delight the God-King are sent away wealthy men; some, however, those who provoke the God-King, or his companions, the inscrutable Fae, run the risk of being taken, to feed appetites unknown but most malevolent. The people of Qui-Tan, whose ranks are bolstered occasionally by those who wish to remain, live a comfortable life. Although the Manse is not a provider in and of itself, between the inscrutable magic of the Fae and the mundane labor of those who work the fields, the city is kept well-fed. The city itself grows half-wild; though ostensibly constrained by laws and rules, these are frequently overlooked out of convenience and a desire to foster a wild atmosphere about the city. Murder and treason the only crimes for which one may be put to death. In the city exists a cult of worship; many things are worshiped; the Fae themselves, who are known throughout the city as the mystical beings whose very presence gives the city it's vitality, the God-King of the City, Set, has a cult, and much worship goes to the Unconquered Sun, within whose temples (as in the Palace and in the temples of Set) one may freely see the glory of the sun during daytime, unfettered by the pervasive black fog. Other worships include the Small God of the city itself, as well as various and sundry other rites and faiths. All in all, the city of Qui-Tan, despite the unreality woven into it, is quite the pleasant place; not the least of which is because of the revocation of bad memories. Mortals within (and similar beings who possess Essence 1 and cannot channel Essence) forget mild annoyances and grievances after a mere day; even significant hardship is dulled after a week, and forgotten within a month. Even the loftiest mental pains, such as excruciating torture or the death of a loved one, fade after a week (after the end of the pain, assuming an ongoing struggle such as being tortured on a daily basis,) and after three months are barely remembered as a distant downer in one's past. Lastly, the very identity of those who die within Qui-Tan are consumed from the minds of those who permanently reside within, gone within five days, unless they died during Calibration; in which case, they are forgotten instantly. This, naturally, encourages people to want to stay; even having their loved ones murdered is a pain that goes away swiftly. This is not a widely-known fact, of course; but were a mortal to become aware of it and the fact cause them anguish, they would soon forget the fact as well. Stripping away the heady blanket of mental fog, however, the Chosen (of anyone, really) can readily see the city for what it is. Though life in Qui-Tan may be pleasant for the mortals within, this is merely because they cannot remember things that build-up to unpleasant days. Many are forced to work hard labor in the fields to keep the city fed, and supplied with the freely-flowing intoxicants and truly prodigious supplies of Maiden Tea required by it's inhabitants. However, if they feel as though yesterday and today are the only bad days they've had in a long run of good days where they remember nothing particularly bad, only the mild euphoria of the night's debauch, most mortals are inclined to forgive and forget. The city boasts a sizable militia, kept in a state of good drill and ordered about by the upper class, who in turn, often owe their station to the God-King, Set, and would not hesitate to follow out any order he gives. The cruelty of Qui-Tan, however, runs very deep in it's callousness. Whilst the Fae mostly exist off the free-flowing emotions of the city; the hedonistic excess, the torment of those they kidnap and squirrel away (something Set is kept unaware of,) the Manse itself is more fickle, requiring a daily sacrifice of one mortal soul, consigned to the void-pit beneath the palace. This is, simply, a regrettable necessity; justified as the cost of utopia, and in any event the void-pit is not picky about the caliber or condition of the mortal soul so provided. Thence, executions in the city take place in the palace. But one does not always have a criminal so handy; on these days, an unlucky person, starting with those imprisoned for the most heinous crimes and working their way up, will be tossed in. Sometimes so will a traveler who angers the God-King of the city, though this is mostly done to spread the reputation of Qui-Tan and it's God-King as a place and person not to be trifled with. In the very worst event of no criminals being available, with no unlucky travelers to take their place, some unfortunate member of the lower class will be arrested on 'suspicion of treason' and thusly provided to the Manse for it's power. And a powerful effect it provides, indeed. Even those who have visited Qui-Tan cannot simply locate it on a map, or return. Once a mortal has removed himself from the environs of the city (simply put; once they have traveled to the point they can no longer see the black fog surrounding it; teleportation counts,) they are again considered an outsider. Only those attuned to the Manse are exempt from this, and those attuned to the Manse are the only beings which may invite anyone inside; even if a mortal resident were to take the hand of an outsider and guide them within the city's walls, the outsider would blunder about, helplessly, forced to navigate on touch alone until they were greeted by something attuned to the Manse. Even their ostensible guide would vanish from their perceptions if they left his presence. Those who are not led to the city simply cannot find it in the fog.
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