interlude: ellethia

[groundrules]

ELLETHIA

---

En route to their next destination, the Merchant detours the party through his home citadel of Ellethia — the first, haunted casualty of the undead, now divided into Ellethia-Allayar and Ellethia-Hamsour.

Feel free to tag into this log or make your own posts!

Image source.

ONE FOR THE ROAD

Macaluso Spina’s plans to escort the group out of Taravast are overturned by the Merchant’s transmission:

”It appears many of you remain indifferent to the stakes of our endeavour. So, you will see them. You go to Ellethia, jewel of innovation, the first cradle of the dead. My home.”

With the sorceress Karsa now gone, the party is entrusted to journey master and kindly-mannered biologist Enam.

Characters retain their bare essentials and what little can be carried on their backs. Magical storage is minimal. Everyone receives bags containing: three raw candles, a bundle of red clothes, a light blanket, two flasks of fresh water, a dagger, two bandage strips, two needles, strong thread, four textile patches, dried food, a pouch with two fistfuls of kiln-dried broken firewood and some flint. Supplies are replenished periodically.

Enam and his six assistants carry larger loads — with two aides transporting heavily bound humanoid forms. They’ve got you, Kaneki.

Ellethia requires delicate travel. The group first travels communally by ship, reaching the East Arakuthia Seas at sunset, meeting 25 small boats that can home between one and three passengers.

The group only travels at sea by night, when the depths are safest. The 3-17 January period covers two nights of seaborne travel, broken by journey on land across the two segments of Ellethia. Sea shipment will take characters from East Arakuthia to Ellethia-Allayar. A second voyage will later deliver them from Ellethia-Allayar to Ellethia-Hamsour. They spend roughly seven days at each land location.

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TROUBLE AT SEA

The small boats have been thralled to slowly progress through mist and water to their destination. Enam quickly discloses the rules of seaborne engagement:

■ Keep the light. Enam offers each traveller a lit candle brazier to wave periodically around the boat and “ward away evil.”

■ If your candle blows out, rush to it light back with help from your boat-mate or other vessels.

■ If all of a boat’s candle lights have been died, travellers have three minutes to light fresh candle flames. The vessel begins to sink, seized by hands of rotting flesh and shadow. Undead mermaids attempt to drown those who fall in.

■ Sunken characters can be rescued by other vessels but remain “marked,” experiencing a bitter, unrelenting cold that no fire can tame. The saviours’ ship are intensely targeted by mermaids that seek to capsize it and collect their lost prize. You are rattled but safe as long as your lights hold.

■ Perhaps you dozed off, or briefly looked away — no matter your distraction, a newcomer (?) has now climbed into your boat, teeth chattering and terrified. These undead visitors are unaware of their condition and beg to be delivered to shore. They are not violent, unless ignored and often spark conversations. Over time, they become paranoid that they will not be rescued.

■ Those who share their names with these creatures feel compelled to take them to ground, where they trigger immediate medium-scale explosions. Other boat-mates or vessels can stop this.

■ Forcibly push your stowaway into water, trick them in, or pose a riddle they cannot solve.

Image source.

AHOY, LAND

Ellethia has been cleaved into two — Allayar and Hamsour — by the Huntress, whose extended presence crumbled stone, decayed organic matter and eventually sunk districts and passageways. Crude bridges connect sectors of the citadel that have been partly submerged.

Although the tragedy of Ellethia occurred within the last decade, its ruins have been completely overrun by lush vegetation.

The following applies to both Ellethia-Allayar and Ellethia-Hamsour:

■ Characters must don their fashionable red gear once they reach land. Over 15 minutes of direct exposure to the crisp Ellethia air leads unprotected skin to erupt in a rash, then into gashes and tissue-deep decay. The wound fully regenerates within the hour.

■ Patch your party suit immediately, if it is torn.

■ Science-prone characters can notice no sign of radiation. Sorcerers feel no magic. Necromancers sense a complete absence of death.

■ There is no other human presence on land. Plants develop abundantly. Animals live an entire cycle of birth, growth, maturity and decay in the period between sunrise and sundown, reaching their prime around midday. Corpse remains patch back together into the creature’s new-born form at sunrise.

■ There are no human corpses anywhere.

TASKS

■ Forage or hunt. Replenish resources. Water from Ellethia’s canals is potable.

■ Help Enam find samples of the Widow’s Yearning. The plants grow in small fields whose scent woos travellers into a restful sleep they struggle to wake back from on their own. Widow’s Yearning can be ground into a potent hallucinogen.

■ Explore the pastoral surroundings.

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ELLETHIA-ALLAYAR

The party first reaches Ellethia-Allayar, which hosts the ruins of the citadel’s seats of banking, commerce and governance. Ellethia-Allayar has been deeply flooded, with many streets partly overcome by water.

■ Amid torn-down halls of rhetoric and administration, characters can find bright flags on public office buildings, and glitter debris and street cups on the ground.

■ Several decaying pamphlets remain in the main piazza, whose halls have been submerged 1 meter underwater. If recovered, the pamphlets bemoan: Toss a Bone to Your Taxman: He’s Already Got the Meat, Gristle and Fat, Dowries: Sense or Sentiment? Join Tonight’s March for Free Wedlock, Who Watches through Your Mirrors?, Selling: Minor Palace with Main Street View and Cat, 90 Days Since Conscription: Where Are Your Sons?, Taravast Was Our Fathers’ Question, We Are the Answer.

■ Fresher pamphlets littered on public streets announce extended burial grounds in the botanical garden.

■ Roads and buildings show signs of clawing and trampling, along with spattering of long-dried blood.

■ The carriages, streetlights and infrastructure of Ellethia suggest a technology level near the 1800s.

THE SILENCE GAME

Ellethia-Allayar’s impromptu “canals” have made it a prime target for mermaids, who only infiltrate at midday — the peak of the accelerated animal life cycle.

■ Enam urges retreating to the high ground of the peripheral residential areas, as midday draws near.

■ Between noon and 13:00 each day, swathes of vicious mermaids storm the Allayar canals, working in packs to draw unsuspecting animals or humans into water. Some mermaids are dead, some living. While they always circle Ellethia during the day, they only proactively hunt in this period.

■ The thick fogs of Ellethia throw a boon: if they are very silent and very still, characters can hide even on low ground. Beware: the mermaids’ hearing has evolved to compensate their weaker sight, helping them locate close-by characters who speak or heave.

■ Mermaids imitate the animal calls and human voices they have heard to lure out prey.

■ Most central and public buildings are on low land.

Enam directs characters to their boats again to head to Ellethia-Hamsour within the week.

Image source.

ELLETHIA-HAMSOUR

Unlike Allayar, Ellethia-Hamsour is a completely demolished territory, bordering a wasteland. Water infiltrations have been minimal.

The fog runs thicker than in Allayar, compounding the dangers of the collapsing, decayed roads and bridges.

The strong, vibrant greenery only breaks in coastal regions. Beneath the plant beds, you can find signs of the academic, science or technological districts. In some manicured gardens, flowers have overtaken hundreds of newer stone plates bearing local names and the marker, Truth Bows Only to the Sun.

Any remaining stone edifices display intense clawing and blood residue.

Characters are tasked to head to a distant lighthouse, lone in the horizon.

■ Characters become increasingly obsessed with reaching the lighthouse, often neglecting food, safety and sleep.

■ The single-minded focus leaves some vulnerable to being lured into steep pits or down cliff edges, into the sea.

■ Some characters become possessive of the lighthouse and plot to prevent their fellow travellers from reaching it. The lighthouse is not safe, if others get near it. It does not want them. Only you.

PLOTTING POST

QUESTIONS

Comments

[violetchaos]

trouble at sea

[ The transition had been almost seamless despite all that was happening. In what felt like a blink, Yennefer went from tumbling off the tower she had been standing on in Sodden Hill to being stabbed with an arrow; to being blown out of the tower and jolting awake in a body of really warm water in the dead of night, holding a rock in her hand.

This is a dream. It has to be is all she can think of. Or that she died in the fall from the tower. Though Yennefer has no more time to think about it before shadow hands and mermaids swarm her and try to pull her under. And as she thrashes around, trying desperately to keep her head above, someone grabs a flailing arm and yanks her up into a vessel.

Even the spiel given to her about where she ended up was hard to believe. Everything was ridiculous, right down to the possibility that the rock she was holding healed her injuries. But somehow that was the only part in all this that she could actually believe.

Still, Yennefer pestered Enam and the other men for answers, but her temper got the best of her and in a rash move she stood with her hand out, pulling the water off the left side into a circle where a portal is conjured and the sorceress disappears through it.

Not long after, another similar portal opens and Yennefer tumbles from it onto another boat where she proceeds to get violently sick all over some poor sod's boots. ]


Ahoy Land/Allayar

[ As awful and unstylish as the red suits were, it only takes Yennefer fifteen minutes to realize how important wearing them was. But she was still irritated by it and the fact that they were all doomed to spend their time on whatever land this was bumbling around awkwardly doing what?

She was not pleased.

Eventually, she finds things to do and learns how long she has to wear it to reset the time and goes without the helmet more than she should. The bulkiness of it made it hard to move and reluctantly look for the blossoms and pester Enam with more questions than simply falls on deaf ears. So, Yennefer goes off on her own to explore, hoping to find an intersection or some small reserve that she can draw from. She wasn't too keen to go through what she did after conjuring the portals.

Those nearby will hear a frustrated holler and a long, drawn-out -- ]

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck... goddamnit. OUCH.

[ While trying to free herself from the helmet and the hair that was caught on the edges. ]

Ahoy!

[sergeant_slick]

[Fuck but Slick wishes he still had his helmet.

The rest of his armor still works just fine. The armored fabric beneath it is sealed tight. The stuff's rated for hard vacuum. And even without special gear, a complete set of trooper gear filtered out everything short of armor-melting corrosives.

But he just had to leave his helmet back on Christophsis, didn't he?

And he's not taking off his armor, so instead the whole damn thing has to fit under this stupid red suit.

It makes him look like a Corrie got stuck in a sleeping bag.

So when he hears profanity just around the corner, he's got only one response:]

Copy that.

[He sighs heavily. ...And the lenses immediately fog up. Fuck this, he's taking the helmet off for a minute.

Unless somebody's getting eaten by the scenery or something. He should probably check on that first.]

You in need of any assistance, or was that just a general sentiment?

[violetchaos]

[ With her hair caught in several rivets and edges, Yennefer is damn near ready to just rip the helmet from her head when she hears the voice speaking words to her that she takes quite literally. ]

If you want to copy this you're an idiot.

[ Her face is hidden behind a mass of black wavy hair and when the stranger finds her she's struggling. ]

Oh, I'd much rather be doing that kind of fucking than this.. [ She pauses, the fight momentarily leaving her as she shifts the helmet from one hand to the other. ] Yes, a little help would be fantastic.

[ It was put as sarcastically as she could manage. ]

[sergeant_slick]

[Fucking translators never seemed to work right.] It's military jargon for "I agree, this sucks Hutt shit."

[He rounds the corner, fumbling his way out of his helmet. Having double-gloved hands is not helping things.]

Well good, a little help's all I can give. [And much as he's got some envy towards the long-haired people here, whoever this is demonstrates pretty well why Army regs didn't allow that.

Come to think of it, who is this?]

You're new, right? [His condolences.] Don't worry--it gets slightly better than this, sometimes.

[violetchaos]

Then why not just say, "I agree, this is horse shit"?

[ She asks, still under a thick veil of hair. Soon enough, she can feel his fingers unhooking and unravelling hair. Sweet freedom was near. ]

Only slightly? You mean there's a place I can look forward to where I don't have to wear this... thing?

[ When the last hew strands are freed, she stands up straight and pushes it all back again. She's going to need to find something to use as a hair tie or suffer going through this every time she takes the helmet off. ]

But yes, it seems your leader has the useful talent of spotting people drowning in the pitch black of night. Almost as if he were waiting for me.

[ She shows off the gold pocket watch given to her as a communication device, which has yet to prove that function. ]

Ahoy

[song_of_fire]

[The cry of pain and frustration is enough to have Dany running, throwing aside her earlier caution in fear that there was an attack. The scene she was met with was not...so dire. Gods though, what she wouldn't give for hair to actually get caught in the helmet. At the very least, it wouldn't be unsightly when she could finally take off this horror again.

She regarded Yen, unsure where to start to help her. Finally, she quickly worked the straps to the helmet, doing her best to dislodge the woman's hair.]

You should think about braids. I could help you?

[It was surreal to be suggesting it, given where they were, what they were wearing and what they were facing. A moment to be a girl again. It would never not make her head spin.]

[violetchaos]

[ The voice that replies is nothing short of curt, though it has nothing to do with the woman offering her help and everything to do with tiny hairs being pulled out at the root that were bringing her closer and closer to a violent burst of irrational anger.

After another groan, she straightens and presses a hand to the side of her head and winced. ]

I have, only one can only go without this stupid thing for so long before the flesh starts melting off my face.

[ Luckily it's only been a few minutes so far. ]

I don't have any tie to hold it together.

[ Purple eyes go to the other woman's head and the state of her hair. Or lack thereof. Such irony. ]

[song_of_fire]

It's uncomfortable. [Definitely an agreement from her. She despised the suits and would change them if she could. Through observation of others, she gathered it was better to endure, but her girlish vanity balked each time.] A stupid burden to bear for the sake of reconnaissance.

[Which is what she assumes this is. There doesn't seem to be anyone here to help. Only information to gather.]

I have a leather strap. It's crude, but it could keep your hair in place.

Would you like my help?

[Purple eyes met purple eyes. There was a momentary thrill in her, certain that this woman might have Valyrian blood...before ultimately remembering how different everyone truly was. There was no guarantee she was from Westeros.]

I'm Daenerys Stormborn.

[violetchaos]

[ Uncomfortable was an understatement. But, from what she understands so far, it hasn't been a permanent article of clothing that needed to be worn by those that came here before her. She's optimistic that once they leave this place, she can get some new dresses and cloaks. ]

I'd appreciate the help very much. Thank you, Daenerys.

[ The girl bears a likeness to some of the girls she went to Aretuza with -- women of higher stature, the kind that Tissaia recruited not because they had been born with magic. But because they belong to a family that was financially able and could pay the tuition. It made her sick to learn this on her last visit.

She turns so Daenerys could start her braiding. ]

My name is Yennefer.

allayar | just going to wildcard WTFery based off your prompt, don't mind me

[downswing]

( The man Enam, their shepherd-guide, has begged of them his flowers, round and clever golden swells of mystery that have eluded Lan Wangji for the better part of the half-shi. No matter the promised reward; he intends nothing past offering recompense to Enam, who has acquitted himself of their rearing with the animal kindness of a bird forced to accept a cuckoo's offspring. It is Lan Wangji's understanding that the group is not always... finely mannered.

Over a day stretched taut and wild and long, ungainly past midday, he has not been alone in the hunt. The syrens came, fled, deserted them, waters spumed and maddened in their wake. The prior savage, blood-curdling electric restlessness has dispelled itself into blunt silence. Since, they've walked the same radius, like a spillage of red-luck beads.

...except for the one traveller Lan Wangji has glimpsed, now and then, who has been seemingly tormented by their outfit. Then, by their helmet. Their path. Perhaps, throughout it all, by the tragedy of human existence. Wangji is not often lent to curiosity, but he admits... an occasional penchant. Here. Now. With the latest bundle of worthless flowers flickered at his feet.

Their fresh gear is the one great neutraliser, reducing all party members to an amorphous, red flag. Lan Wangji cannot tell faces, names, the tells of strength or gender. Uniformed, they are all as one: scarlet, squeaky, sweating, sordid legion. Height alone satisfies him, seeding fertile ground for the riddling. The wanderer is slight, the breadth of their form fettered. A woman, or a child, or perhaps Shen Qingqiu. But then, no mortal peril blinks into the horizon, and the scant youthful faces in their numbers comport themselves with... dignity.

Therefore, he faces, through exclusion, a woman, step thunderous and purpose unknown. He waddles towards her with the patience of a man who has learned his gear no more flatters or allies him than do riding leathers. It thrives on him, a placid weight likely to animate itself at the dark of Lan Wangji's last hour, only to point and laugh at him. There is evil in this red contraption. Lan Wangji likes it not, but accepts it as his due, an exorcist studied in sacrifice, penitence and ill luck.

For now, he approaches the woman (?) at fair enough of a distance that he invites neither her wrath nor that of the whispered, yellowed haze of pollen that swarms them. She appears... frustrated. Angered? Adrift. He suspects why. )

You seek — ( The pause, inevitable. )Privacy? ( ...how else to ask of a woman if she is possessed of relief only distant bathing room facilities may meet? ) We left abandoned shelters an hour northbound.

wildcard wtfery is love and always encouraged!

[violetchaos]

[ For as much as she tried to remain calm, the upheaval, lack of answers and the mandatory wearing of something that she couldn't even fathom in a dream, which she still hadn't completely ruled out. All of it made her feel like she was out of her own body; an unnerving feeling considering what she's been through already. It all seems so far away now that what is happening there puts even more distance between her and what might have come to be in Sodden Hill. Even still, if she's dead, it would be nice to know.

At least her hair is braided now and not getting stuck in her helmet every time she takes it off. Silver linings.

When the next new face approaches, Yennefer isn't as annoyed as she has been. She's exhausted and feeling a level of defeat that she hasn't ever felt before. ]

And do what exactly? Can't take the suit off and even if I could I smell like a set of balls trapped in a pair of leather pants on a hot day. No one wants to be around that.

[ She sighs softly (but dramatically) and looks across the field. In her hand is the gold device that Enam gave her that is a wonder, in and of itself. Nothing that she's ever seen. ]

Unless you know something I don't. Like there's something stronger than water on this pathetic piece of land.

[downswing]

Discipline.

( Spoken just so: calmly, enticingly, shrewdly. He knows the frustration that absolute certainty invites in those who still weigh and decide their footing. How the example of definitive contentment does nothing more than spurn and irritate them. Children and disciples forever despise a firm hand.

No footsteps, muted underfoot. The red that shrouds his limbs absorbs sound, sloshes weeds and grass under a firm boot. He does not enclose her, nor removes his helmet — this the time and this the place, for example. The flickered arc of his arms waves calm more than acceptance. Anger breathes and lives and sprawls the same in men as in animals, like the spread of a watered stain. )

Enough. ( Settle, as if she were a storm-maddened horse, rebellious thunder rushing to prickle her ears. ) What troubles you? Think. Your health is secure. Needs met. You are at advantage.

( Perhaps no chipped ceramic tiles sit above them, no silks welcome their bodies, no salted waters and oils whisper their skins fresh — but they are not weakened. What is there to complain of? )

Ease.

[violetchaos]

Am I though?

[ The question is asked honestly, although with an acerbic note. Since her arrival, she can't seem to shrug the chronic tension out of her shoulders. Everything isn't as it should be and her mind is a swirl of disorder and clutter because of it; her equilibrium precarious.

What troubles you?

It's a question with two answers, really. Everything and nothing. Or perhaps it comes down to being far too much that she can do nothing about. Yennefer has always been in a battle of some kind, be it against herself or with people who constantly fail her. They always want something and this place was proving to have its own reasons, too.

Think.

She shrugs, closing her eyes and finally surrendering because she was far too tired to think anymore. Thinking upset her and deflecting kept her from stumbling on all the reasons that she needs to stay angry. ]

Ease. I don't know what that means. Where I'm from, slowing down allows something to catch up.

trouble at sea.

[inferus]

( Wrath eyes the portal created by magic - it is not magic he is familiar with, not like what comes from his world, not like the magic he has sensed from others within their group either. It means the woman who flops on to the boat must be new. He steps out of the way with unnatural speed as she starts to get sick, narrowly missing his shoes.

He is already pressed about the suit he must wear. He would not be happy to have disgusting shoes as well. )

...does your method of teleportation often make you sick?

[violetchaos]

[ She remains still, the words coming from the man barely registering while she coughs and sputters before glancing up at the man standing a few feet away. ]

No. Never.

[ Yennefer pushes off her knees onto her rear, closing her eyes as another wave of nausea hits. She manages to swallow back the bile rising again. ]

But then I've never opened them in other worlds before.

[inferus]

The change in worlds does affect magic.

( Wrath has experienced this himself. He is still angry at how his powers were ripped from him when he was dragged back into this world directly before the beacon closed. His power comes from Hell itself, from the way he dug and clawed his way on to that throne.

Some of it stays with him, but he still more powerless than he would like. He gives her a moment and then another to recover before he speaks. )

This world in particular appears to be able to dilute the magic that comes through it.

TROUBLE AT SEA....

[blackscales]

[ Well, that's one way to make an entrance.

Wrathion blinks once, then his face slowly twists in distaste.

His boots! Those were nice boots.

The boat sways violently. Wrathion's candle goes out, and he lights it again with a gesture. ]

If you were aiming for the shore you've missed by a considerable distance.

[violetchaos]

[ Hardly the apologetic type, Yennefer shifts back and leans against the side of the boat and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. ]

Not aiming for this shore. I was trying to get back to where I was.

[ She looks at his boots, then up at the man's face, saying nothing. ]

[blackscales]

[ He's sorely tempted to flick it off at her, but for now just... simmers.

Dragons are above that.

They aren't, but he's going to tell himself that. He can rinse it off once they reach the other side. ]

Taravast? Or somewhere further.

[ He reaches to dig another candle out of his bag, lights it with a gesture and sets it on the floor of the boat between them.

Not that he cares about Yennefer, who dared to throw up on his boots, but he'd rather they don't both die to the creatures in the water. ]

allayaaaass

[reparo]

[What she has learned in the months of being here (gods, really? Months already?), is that there are more than one way to practice magic. It still doesn't stop being incredibly interesting, to see other people practice forms of magic that are familiar to her but also are not.

Wrath, for instance, has some sort of disapparition skills that feels altogether different, darker and older than the skill Hermione knows.

Others get from point A to point B by running across rooftops. (Weird, moving on.)

The portals, though, she's not seen anything like it yet. So of course, though she spies the whole thing from a different boat, she keeps an eye out for the woman who's been pulling those portals out of thin air.

When they finally reach land, it gets harder to find her in the crowd of red suits (Hermione feels like they're about to step outside of a submarine), so she looses track of her. Eventually, though she does think she has found her. She can tell, by the absolutely committed way with which the witch (is she a witch?) yells out Fuuuuuuuck.]

Oh - hold on, do you need help with that? [Because she's very graceful herself in the suit. She'll waddle over, reaching out to gingerly pull a black hairstrand out of the grip of the helmet.]

[violetchaos]

Sweet relief, thank you.

[ Yennefer is beyond thankful and it's more than evident in her voice when she's able to pull her hair back again and stand straight. ]

I think that might be the fourth time that's happened. Long hair, both a blessing and a curse.

[reparo]

[Under the helmet, she's got more hair than it's worth, tangled up and violently forced into a sort of braid to avoid exactly this kind of scenario. Yet she kind of feels it'll happen regardless.]

My pleasure - I saw you. [Points to the awkward introduction? Points.] With the portals. You were magnificent.

trouble at sea

[rumorate]

Oh, shit!

[The woman appears out of nowhere on a boat that is already packed to the brim with miniature wolves - Diego insisted, and Allison enjoys siding with Diego to irritate Five - but then she's promptly sick, and Allison manages to steer her over the edge of the boat, with a supportive arm around her waist, narrowly avoiding a stream of vomit on Grace Number Four.

Yes Diego named all his wolves Grace. He's not the most creative.

She does her best to keep Yennefer steady as she purges her stomach, and waits until they reach the dry heave stage before she asks:]

Are you okay?

[One upside: When your brother is a teleporter, you get used to people popping in and out of a space at random.]

[violetchaos]

[ After what feels like several long minutes of ejecting everything out of her stomach, Yennefer shifts back a little, fingers still curved over the edges of the boat in case she needs to pull herself back up again and rests her head on one arm.

She wasn't sure what was going on but something was very wrong. ]

I don't know. This has never happened before.

[rumorate]

Well, sit.

[She gestures to an empty spot on the bench. It's her shift and blessedly both her brothers are asleep, so they'll likely have some time to talk before they come in and make things more complicated.]

Have you ever had motion sickness before?