Notes: The Last Home
Internal Notes (What It Is, What It Does, and What It’s Definitely Not Telling Me)
Core Concept
- Not a building. Not really. It's a Thread, a story, a sanctuary—born from the universal need to rest.
- It’s outside the Loom, or maybe beneath it. Doesn’t follow the Pattern—just visits it.
- Exists because too many people, across too many worlds, whispered the same thing: “I just want somewhere safe for a while.”
- That whisper made it real. Or close enough.
- Doesn’t show up when you want it—shows up when you need it.
- Not a hub. Not a tavern trope. It’s a pause button with alcohol.
Function & Behaviour
- Moves between Realms when it wants. Nobody controls this—not even Lars. Especially not Lars.
- Appears physically when tethered to a world. Surrounded by mists when not.
- Inside, it always feels the same—warm, timeless, like déjà vu and woodsmoke.
- The layout stretches and shifts. Some rooms only exist when you're in the right mood. Or wrong one.
- Certain spaces are fixed (Taproom, Kitchen, Library, Lars’ bar). Others aren't. Some doors don’t go anywhere. Some go somewhere they shouldn’t.
Rules (Enforced by People, Not Magic)
- Violence isn’t banned. Escalation is.
- Bar brawls? Fine. Fireballs? Not fine.
- If it gets messy, the Maids intervene.
- If that fails, Lars stands up. That’s usually enough.
- Weapons drawn = staff reaction. Magic cast = bad decision. Disrespect the inn = consequences.
- Everyone is equal inside. Titles, power, divine status—none of it matters here.
Time
- Time flows normally inside, but the Inn decides how long you were gone outside.
- You might be gone an hour and return ten years later. Or the other way around.
- Patrons age slowly while inside. Some haven’t aged in decades. Others feel like they’re living the same week on loop.
- Time is emotional here—tracked by narrative weight, not clocks.
The Inn Itself
- Might be alive. Probably is. Definitely has a sense of humour. A dry, slightly sadistic one.
- Repairs structural damage overnight, but only if it likes the structure.
- Ignores personal belongings unless they become part of “the Inn” somehow.
- Seems to assign rooms based on what people need, not what they ask for.
- Picks who stays and who goes. You don’t always get to leave just because you want to.
Entry & Return
- Three ways in:
- Physical entrance when the Inn appears in a world.
- Through one of the known doors scattered across the Infinite Elsewhere.
- By the Inn’s choice—usually when your Thread is fraying, and something inside you screams “I can’t do this anymore.”
- Three ways back:
- Hearthstone – if the Inn gives you one and still likes you.
- Narrative pull – emotional/narrative resonance opens a door back in.
- Inn’s whim – door appears randomly because you hit the right emotional note.
- Hearthstones don’t teleport. They request. The Inn can deny.
Staff & Control
- Lars is the current Keeper. No idea how he got the job, and he’s not telling.
- The Maids enforce the rules. Their armour has limiters because letting them fight at full power would crater the plane.
- The Librarian knows more than she says. Possibly more than she should.
- The Butler is terrifyingly polite. If he shows up, you’ve already messed up.
- The Kitchen runs on its own logic. Do not challenge Mama Jori.
- Dave sits at the bar. Might be the first patron. Might be the creator. Might be bluffing. No one knows. Dave doesn’t seem to care.
- The One in the Backroom—me, technically—is the one trying to keep the story from unraveling. Fixes the threads. Files the mistakes. Tries not to interfere. Fails regularly.
World Interaction
- The Inn connects to any Realm with high enough resonance—longing, story-weariness, desperation, etc.
- Shows up during turning points, emotional thresholds, or narrative inflection moments.
- Can anchor to a Realm temporarily, usually when there’s something important nearby. Also might just be curious.
Metaphysics & Mystery
- Nobody knows who built it. Might’ve always existed. Might be a leftover from a Realm that collapsed.
- The Architects? Maybe. The Broken Reality Theory? Could be.
- There are locked doors in the oldest wings. Even Lars won’t touch them.
- Some patrons vanish. Some become part of the Inn. Some just fade from memory. The place keeps secrets, and sometimes people become them.
- It’s possible the Inn is a secret.
Tone & Personality
- The Inn doesn’t lie. But it never tells you everything, either.
- It’s a place for found family, last chances, and strange laughter at the edge of the world.
- Think cosmic exhale, wrapped in sarcasm and slightly burnt pie.
Narrative Drift
- The Inn alters memory subtly to maintain narrative consistency.
- Events may be recalled differently by different people—even immediately after they happen.
- Some patrons vanish from memory entirely when they’re no longer “relevant.”
- Written records, journal entries, and even magical logs may be edited or lost.
- Staff don't question it. Most assume they misremembered, or that the story simply changed.
- The Library shelves books no one remembers writing and forgets ones that were always there.
- The effect is not hostile—just the Inn keeping things tidy.
- Attempting to track or resist the drift usually leads to more confusion.
- It’s best not to ask why you don’t remember Room 17. Especially if you’re standing in it.
The Tables (Fan Groups & Fated Placement)
- Each of the Maid Fan Groups has their own dedicated table in the Taproom.
- The tables don’t move—but the space around them sometimes does.
- No one else sits at a fan group’s table. Ever. Not even by mistake. The chairs just... aren’t there unless you belong.
- Some of the tables have carvings, offerings, flags, or in one case, a small shrine. The Inn allows it, possibly out of fear.
- The Legendary Maids pretend they’re annoyed by it. Except Sylvie, who actively encourages her group’s “enthusiasm.”
- The Oni Fans (Rika’s lot) regularly cause structural damage around their table. The Inn repairs it, but slower than usual. Probably as a warning.
✦ Player Tables – “The Fated Table”
- When new patrons (i.e. the player party) arrive, a table chooses them.
- It’s subtle. No dramatic lights. Just… that one feels right. Empty, waiting, and oddly familiar.
- The Inn adjusts the table to fit the group’s nature. Quiet ones get a corner booth. Rowdy ones get one with reinforced chairs.
- Items left on the table stay safe—even if left overnight, or if the group vanishes for a week.
- The table responds to group changes. When someone leaves or dies, the seating arrangement quietly updates.
- Some tables have been passed down across groups, their history etched in quiet details: a knife mark, a symbol, a scorched plank.
- No one gets two tables. You only ever have one. It remembers you, even if you forget it.
Comments