westwhere | no man's sea

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no man's sea

Avast ye — sprawling til 18 June is part I of the Storm at Sea travel arc, which doubles as a test drive. Participants don’t need an invite to reserve or apply over 10-17 June.

Try to label if you’re a test drive tourist or an old timer — and don’t hesitate to leave an OOC note to opt out of random NPC piraaaaaaaargh interaction. Test drivers can post both log and network prompts. Have fun!

NO MAN’S SEA

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AHOY! SCALLYWAGS

Departing Ke-Waihu, the existing party joins paranoid pirate king, turned stalwart saint Samuel Vane — the feared Quicksilver Sam — aboard the Pariah.

Test drivers awaken anguishing at sea, floating on rafts, or on minuscule patches of deserted land. They are collected by two pirates and the recalcitrant sorceress Karsa — who supplies translation and communication devices. She explains the newcomers were summoned into the land of Akhuras by warring undead factions. Karsa’s master, the elusive Merchant, ferries newcomers east to beacons hoped to return them home. He has secured them passage on the pirate vessel Queen Zanyra of ’Wet Rope’ Caladan Kreil, an associate of Quicksilver Sam.

The Pariah and Zanyra meet at sea, a day’s travel away from Ke-Waihu:

■ Characters overhear that Quicksilver Sam seeks to reach the haunted Crossing Seas and ‘settle an old score.’ Long-term ally Caladan Kreil supports his cause.

■ The two vessels make daily supply and crew exchanges by rowboat. The Pariah’s passengers must give the passcode: flaunted like gold to board the Queen Zanyra. Staff of the Queen Zanyra must speak the words before the blind man to access the Pariah. Forget your passcode and fall at the mercy of whoever patrols the decks!

■ Tasks await all passengers: diligently clean and polish decks, climb tall masts to sew torn sails, banish a preposterous number of seagulls, fish, read post or… dubious novels to sailors, count loot, guard the decks, clean cannons or serve as boat lure for shark fishing. Medics and cooks can practise their natural trades, while musicians and entertainers should amuse the crew.

■ By all means, grab thematic garments from crew coffers. Also available: daggers, swords and rare pistols.

■ Characters may notice both ship crews are spirited, but grow weary when Quicksilver Sam fitfully orders his five on-call priests to carry out protection rites, or to ‘exorcise’ evil from random staff — through ineffective bitter potions, shrill chants and requests to sit in unusual luck-incurring poses, or to commit some mundane, repetitive task. Let’s bore the devil away.

■ Treat senior crew with respect: some pirates are equally drunk on rum and fleetingly authority and reward perceived slights with a 24h-stay in the brig. These fine accommodations fit two and annul powers while there. No dinner.

■ Sleep where you can: hammocks and rotting mattresses can be found in great common halls beneath decks. The sick and women (naturally, ill omens at sea) can share the four private cabins of each ship. Sumeragi Subaru has his own cabin aboard the Pariah.

■ Each night, expect drinking beneath the halls and a pirate’s greatest hobby: gambling. Conmen might lure you into an ‘innocent game’ that sinks you deep into debt, winning your valuables, favours, or kidney!

■ Ladies are afforded a wide, begrudging berth and some authority over the crew.

■ Accommodations: fresh potions are readily available to ward off sea sickness, and magically resilient oranges are on hand to counter scurvy. As woe would have it, the long-serving Mr. Ishmael has passed, and his earthly remains have been retained aboard the Pariah for Kaneki Ken. Viktor receives a leashed emotional support albatross — a large, loud but docile bird that flies above him counter-current to balance him, whenever the ship’s sway threatens his footing.

OBJECTIVES

■ Discover why good Quicksilver Sam is intent on his haunted travels. The captain declines audiences, but try to get information from the two crews.

■ Please share the information gained via network…!

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THAT SON OF A BISCUIT EATER

Trouble starts to brew, within days at sea:

■ Be on the lookout while on watch duty: on a handful of occasions, new faces appear aboard. They fail to offer the passcode — and attempt to injure characters, throw them overboard, or to enter the captains’ lodgings. Sound the alarm or seize intruders!

■ After interrogating an infiltrator, Caladan Kreil sends word that the assailants hail from the Concord, a war vessel of the Dawns’ Reach Trade Company that is pursuing the pirate ships at distance under the command of Maximilian Hawk. A credit to his name, Wet Rope Caladan has the spy hanged.

■ Prepare to get drafted for double watch duty, as both Caladan Kreil and Quicksilver Sam bolster defences. Tensions escalate, with pirate crew questioning the loyalties of newer recruits.

■ A few days later, at dawns, the silent, swift and massive Concord approaches close enough to fire its cannons at both ships and send vicious militia to climb aboard. Defend your ship!

■ The Concord withdraws by midday, after lightly damaging its opponents. Help with repairs and enjoy some rum — you’ve survived your first sea scuffle!

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MOLLYWICK

Just short of entering the Crossing, where the seas are dark and highly opaque, the Queen Zanyra and Pariah encounter a stretch of vibrant, lushly forested land.

■ Both vessels send crew over for a few hours, with captains urging quick incursions. Pair up to collect berries, scant mushrooms and sweet water. Curiously, no animals are found.

■ Veteran sailors say this is the Neverflight isle of myth, where sea kings have buried their treasures. Pirates share legendary coordinates of long lost loot, archived as riddles or poems. Grab a shovel and a-digging you go!

■ …ah, but don’t linger too long. What pranksters your sailor friends are. Within hours of the island’s appearance, the earth beneath your feet crumbles and quakes, and the land starts to sink. Evacuate or call for help to get out of here — as the great white whale Mollywick submerges in the waters with the Neverflight island it carries on its back. Hopefully, you don’t go under with them.

■ If you’ve threaded out a treasure dig, drop a line to receive some especially deplorable loot. You deserve it.

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THE CROSSING

The Pariah and Queen Zanyra — frequently chained together to avoid separation — creep into the Crossing : a stretch of eerily silent waters, dark and volatile.

■

■ Slowly, a thick, nearly impregnable fog dawns during the day, covering the sun and leaving the skies a desolate slate. Dreadful storms spark at night.

■ Strange, talking carps jump on board, offering to tell you your future. Caution: they only make bad luck readings (request yours) that turn true. They appear wherever their target flees and are exceptionally annoying, until either the moon rises, or you apply the superstitious cure of throwing salt on them.

■ Nightmares haunt you — your own, or glimpsed memories of ships crashing, sinking, falling to storm. Note: only your character suffers these memories/nightmares, but everyone else can experience their exhausted grumpiness, come morning.

■ Be wary, when pairing to cross over to the other pirate ship: you may find another rowboat beside yours, its sailor begging for an oar or ladle. If you give him one, he shovels water into your boat with inhuman speed — desert your vessel and swim quickly to a pirate ship, before undead hands pull you into the sea.

■ While alone on deck, characters might hear sweet, coaxing voices that urge them to walk the plank into the water. Break your brethren from this spell, or watch them fall into the arms of man-eating mermaids.

■ Now and then, the ships are shaken by long, whips of something lashing from the depths.

■ Pirates become increasingly skittish and on edge. Priests perform countless protection rites and exorcisms on both ships.

■ At night, a handful of undead men climb aboard. They lack awareness and are in a clear state of discomposure, looking to catch the living and drown them. With toothless, rotting mouths, some rasp, This is kinder.

■ As you officially enter the Crossing, beams of light erupt in the horizon, showing the distant silhouettes of several ghost ships.

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NOTES

TEST DRIVE QUESTIONS

OLD-TIMER QUESTIONS

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Obsessions fail their own justice, often enough.

( sounding like this is said with a smile, because it is: one with bared teeth. )

As long as it doesn't sink me along with it, may the man do as he likes. I just don't trust to gambling that it won't, you might say.

Retire? A man of the sea? Where will he retire to? [ to the bottom of the ocean? Does he know he is meant to retire? ]

Then, I suppose we will have to make this an unforgettable voyage for sure. [ kaneki moves to the soup, stirring it slowly, and although he looks at it, he doesn't actually pay attention to the food ]

It is an amazing ship. What will happen to yours?

No. [ He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck again. ] About half a day? There was a lot of fog so I couldn't see the sun to track time. It was cold but that's the worst of it.

[ He'd discarded his robe and shirt before he arrived here and that had been unpleasant— while he'd been content to strip down while working, it had been cold stuck on the raft, with nothing to do. ]

[She's never minded his attentions, even if they interfere with work. She was near done anyway, not enjoy a moment or two with Jon? So many kisses they were denied, now they can make up for some of them.]

Or berry hunting.

[She bumped his nose with hers. What a fine task that sounded like it would be.]

[When he comes up for air, he sighs.]

I wouldn’t be the first to put the berries in my mouth, not knowing the place. Berries, mushrooms, they’re all easy enough to mistake. One will feed you, another might kill you.

Might be they think it’s some kind of jape. How many times did you turn about the island before you found this place? I’ve walked it more than once.

[He has not really pulled away from her; it’s nice to hold her close like this.]

Perfect, ( he mutters sourly, ) Why the Hell not.

You alright? Did it hurt you?

Well, when we get back we can add archaeological studies to our skills.

( kidding. though even without technology they wouldn't be too out of it, after all in first contact situations or even observing pre-warp civilisations they've had to be able to survey a planet without any traces or technology at times )

The star map will be one thing that can help us. Though for the moment a lot of our observations will be visual: daylight hours, seasons, at least what we can assume on comparison.

( so not an emotional support bird. she doesn't ask, not when his response doesn't seem like he really knows either )

So they gave you a bird and then put you in the brig?

I asked to see the Captain.

( insisted on it, really. just as she insisted on not going below deck. and about her skills )

[ if ayato's having fun, tenn is happy for him! really! but at this very moment, tenn is also pretty sure his life could've been easily ended any second, and that's sort of a killjoy. the sound of metal on metal is unlike anything he's heard before; sure, there are plenty of stunts and programs that have swordplay but this is different. this is for realsies. ]

Yeah, yeah... sure.

[ it's hard to take his eyes off the man, who looks incredibly elegant as he seems to be more defensive than aggressive; plenty of parrying and dodging, but every swing he does make is done with some kind of strange efficiency... no wasted movement.

that's at least something tenn can see. ]

Just be careful, okay?

I am, but... I'll survive.

[ if there is a choice between sinking and swimming, tenn isn't going to just roll over and die. he'll move with the punches, adapt, and adjust... and if he has to, he'll make the world his. ]

... I'm just unsure if I'll be able to for very long. I'm not the fighting kind of sort.

( Between them, the night's culprit slackens — the same stillness as before now softened within him. He collapses into himself, molten, back and shoulders sagged, as if defeat is a print of physicality, and he has tattered his bones with submission.

Lan Wangji prepares, at first, to escort him. But then, there is a jitter to the man, a sudden animalistic exhalation, as if fear prepares to propel him for a final dash — and perhaps it is Wangji who retaliates prematurely, who should know better, but who simply surrenders himself to instinct stoked to the cusp of paranoia, and slaps his hand once on the man's back to cascade on the length of his spine and its pressure points. Qi blooms across the infiltrator's bones, drives him down to fold into himself — fleetingly succumbed to a wheezing, funerary catatonia.

On reflex, Lan Wangji intercedes to capture him on one arm, before he shatters down on the deck. He remembers, sheepishly, to gaze up where rain's dancing slow footsteps yonder, where Emilia had perhaps hoped for better than the abrupt finale Lan Wangji has whispered to their negotiations. )

He intended flight. ( A rookie error, all but saddling them with dead weight they must now carry. He does not apologise for the inexcusable. )

[ Five has never been a stranger to nightmares, even when he's awake, but they've been more visceral lately. When he wakes up in a panic one night, it takes him ten minutes to come back to reality and accept that he isn't still in the apocalypse. The air is clean and nothing is burning, people are alive, and somehow being on a pirate ship isn't an insane delusion.

He's not afraid to go back to sleep and face what seemed to be the more likely truth, but he's unsettled enough that he decides to walk the ship in search of anything that might serve as a distraction from his memories.

Generally it doesn't smell great when you're traveling among pirates. Especially after the day he spent being cursed by a fish, of all things; another nonsensical experience that made him extremely sensitive to their odors that rivaled those of rotting bodies and spoiled food in those early months of the apocalypse. So when he catches a whiff of pleasant-smelling herbs, he follows it and is surprised when it leads him to Emilia.

Knowing how their last encounter went, he should leave her be. But the sight of a cauldron was common those months he lived with Hermione. He didn't know they had that in common.

Eventually he's curious enough that he speaks up. ]

You're making potions?

( And where do men who have crossed each corner of the world retire to, what hell may they name home? If Caladan Kreil owns this truth, he does not share it. Smiles, intrepidly, and toys with another, cleansed bowl, as if it's his night's ambition to give the washermen more work to their name.

No matter. He is smiling the grin of a stupid child who has lost teeth to growing spurts and thinks his tattered mouth a feat he must share with the world. Smiling and conceding, with great satisfaction: )

Is there a limit to how much a man can own? The pirate kings of old had entire fleets in their service.

Young man.

( And this, spoken with every ounce of authority and indignation one might habitually expect of a legion of gossiping, infuriated matrons at the market. Perhaps Mr. Briggs himself is shamed by the ease with which impunity outrages him, but this hooligan is nothing if not prodigious in stoking resent. )

I can only assume you number a great deal of personal interests in your life, and that you go to lengths to cultivate even more. Such as, right now, a visit to the brig.

A man bereft of godly righteousness.

( He speaks it in the way most men might curses, as if there are countless other opportunities for indignation, but this, above all, earns his effort and attention.

This ship has been long brimming with salacious and deplorable characters. They did not require a fresh injection of much the same. )

I implore you to revisit the quality of person with which you associate. And perhaps do better, moving forward.

( more amused than anything else, given the way that people have been in and out of the brig during this... voyage, such as it is, means his reply is raised brows and two fingers rested against his chin, unshaven as it is. )

An empty brig, or one with company?

( truly if it gets to fights in the brig he's confident on his odds, and most of who gets sent are ladies, so mark him as not impressed by this threat to close company with strangers. )

( Another day, perhaps there might be scope for further enlightened conversation — as things stand, a wave, the rise of Mr. Briggs' voice, and they are rather well attended by the illustrious company of three of the Queen Zanyra's less refined, if better muscled aides of the deck.

Mr. Briggs, who understands and revels in the privileges of his seniority, nods his approval: )

Why don't you see when you arrive? ( And to the others: ) See him down. A night or two might teach him values.

( Them be long words and many, and Mr. Eames ain't one for the bowing of his head, him, not for any fool's righteous scolding — but there be an edge of kindness to this here lad's pronouncement, and, well.

Good God wouldn't want Mr. Eames cruel. The gutting, the killin', they be necessary coin of their trade, inevitable like the sun hiking up and coming down. But unkindness is a different learning, and Mr. Eames, he ain't for schooling of that kind. )

He's seen hardship, him, Quicksilver. Been known. We's all heard. Maybe sun's rotted bit o' his senses.

( licyn simply smiles, standing easily with his hands held at about shoulder height, empty, the ropes in their mending left where they were as he worked before the man who knew no ports in any storm or calm seas came flustering up.

he's easy enough going down, and of course, doesn't stop him from chatting the whole way along, though how much of it is flirting and how much isn't depends on the responses of the three aides as he goes.

no values beyond the one where he likes bathing will be acquired, but he's not torn up over a night or two sleeping in smelly places, minimal movement. it's not an execution: and they make it apparent it won't be, even if food is minimal, and company is, well, outraged. at least it's entertaining in its own way. )

( Serve them. As if, and his mouth stays a long, calculated smear of amusement, and he returns his flask to his coat when it is dutifully ignored — as if she is more than a mere passenger, a sliver above a captive on their ships.

As if she controls her circumstances enough to dictate the tone of this conversation. It is easy to be paternal, now. Nearly caring: )

You come from the land. There, this is civil. ( And a nod: ) I have let you live. At sea, that is civil.

( and helpfully: ) You see, it is not so bad, little friend? To exchange pleasantries?

They gave me the bird. I got mouthy about unrelated issues, so they put me in the brig.

[He shrugs, apparently not remorseful in the least.]

I kind of asked for it.

( Were she in a better state of mind, Emilia would make note of the fact this is the first time in — in months that his proximity does not pain her. The first time in months she is allowed to sink into his arms to embrace like lovers do. What lingered of her smaller curse has truly faded.

A heaviness weighs in her heart still, a different sort of knowledge: the scales of justice remain tipped. A choice hangs in the balance so that she may decide. To right a wrong, or damn them both. The missing piece stays just out of reach, no matter how hard she tries to seek it.

Only dimly aware she has been lifted off the floor, she braces the side of her face against his, one loving beast to another. Her ragged breath quiets the longer they stay like this. She can hear no other voice but his. The rain is easing with her. Stops. Thunder moves ever farther off.

To return to him and to herself is to welcome it all back. She grows rigid in his arms. )

It wasn't real. ( She allowed herself to be deceived, again. )

Resourcefulness.

( among other things. things she would not discuss with a stranger. that she has allowed herself to work on her mixture where others may be near is singular enough, seeing as she spent her whole life hiding her magic. the di carlos family excelled at secret-keeping, more than she perhaps ever realised.

she studies him for a beat. )

Emilia di Carlo. And you are ...?

They did share these coordinates...

( Emilia hands them to Allison. At first glance, they look to be archived as a poem of some sort, but on closer inspection, it is evident the information is meant to lead somewhere. And her partner-in-crime for the day does look game. ) I suppose it couldn't hurt to keep an eye out along the way.

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