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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[ He thankfully didn't have to clarify what he meant. The last thing he wants to do is admit that he's trying to stay awake because he's been having nightmares.

First the dreams, then the magic compulsions. He's been through it too many times to believe it won't happen again. ]

How do you defend against something invading your own mind?

It is true, if they were back on Azeroth, wearing such a thing would make it seem as though Wrathion was all but declaring himself -- if not for Anduin himself, then certainly for Stormwind. For the Alliance.

To wear it here and now, though. It is not without its own meaning. It is both acceptance of the gift and also -- something more than just that. At least to Anduin himself. No, Wrathion is not joining up, or whatever joke he might have made. But it is very -- forward, to wear something so... Branded. Anduin will not be able to look at the necklace and not feel some sense of -- well. Possession feels the wrong word, he could never possibly possess a person like Wrathion. But belonging, perhaps?

His heart does a little somersault in his chest as Wrathion holds the chain out toward him, Anduin's eyes flicking between the chain and the expression on Wrathion's face.

"I would like that," Anduin says, a soft smile curling across his lips. "If... I may?"

He reaches for the chain and gently takes it back, gesturing for Wrathion to turn.

( he'll give a small smile in thanks as he goes to take one slice of cake from the basket. he'll take a bite out of it, chew, swallow. ) I like it. ( well. as far as orange cake goes, this one's not half bad. ) It's not too sweet, not too tangy. Me, I can't bake to save my life, but I'm a fairly good cook. If you're ever passing through the galley, come find me. I'll be sure to repay the favor--which, ooh, reminds me, a fifteen minutes break is all I get. We're being worked to the bone here. ( he'll take another slice of cake before politely excusing himself. it's a little bit of a hasty departure, but right now, he needs to go and eat something more than cake. )

Time plays a part.

( there's a pause before she adds-- )

It's 2259 for me.

No.

( He has not offended. But it is striking to her how this keeps happening. How they start their given tasks a cohesive unit, succeed in their intentions, and end at such different points in the horizon. East and West. He is not a warm man. She is not a soft woman. Not any longer. All that light. All those dreams.

They died in the bloodied chamber alongside Vittoria.

Perhaps this was the only possible end, and she feels that much sillier for the attempt. Attempt to what, exactly? Connect. Express that her own soul wearies at the death and destruction that plagues them, for all that she remains committed to the fight. To her justice.

Emilia could make another attempt now. Explain she is always angry, whether she leaves it on simmer or she lets it out. But then she would only confirm his suspicions, the ones that scare her in the dark of the night, the kind of dark that does not kill. Celestia has assured her she is not La Prima. Wrath has suggested her family meddled in affairs they should not have, and she is left to pick up the pieces. And still she fears it. Fears she is the villain of this story, and she simply doesn't know it.

So she nods. That he may be granted the leave that he wishes, that she can tend to this wound in the silence. )

(

)

[ Trust is relative, He smiles faintly. He did say if they had to choose, but then Jim would certainly know which way would be best for them to lean against. He might just need to see for himself how things unfold from here on out. ]

I've always liked to think I have luck on my side. [ And he does get lucky an inordinate amount of times. It tracks. ] But if whatever's happening here is big, and we're right in the middle of it, I'd say it makes sense that we'll keep finding ourselves in trouble.

( No, and so he lingers close, stray cat and vagabond, a wisp of white for night chasms to howl at. He has startled her — bites down on his tongue, and what parts of him do not wilt will weather — if not from her preconceived notions of her person, than from the myriad reflections of herself she'd thought she'd peeled from mirrors, sooner than fairytales.

When he lingers, it's a fruitless concession, born of inertia. Hasty, the silhouette of his fingers barely casts shadow, under a flat, half-absent moon's light. He does not see the pregnant roundness of her, basking in the heavens. Does not see himself in waters so cored of vitality, they barely stir.

Emilia preceded him by the railing. The man she blessed with the longevity of his sad, cursed life does not turn to wave. )

Do not look long in waters dark. ( She may not love what gazes back — a face distorted, possessed, greyed. What can a cursed sea give her? A bleak, nameless thing crawls its way up his throat into meagre sound. ) They say river ghosts wait to drown their successors.

( He speaks beyond himself, to excess. Without cause or reason. )

By training it. The way one might train to wield a weapon.

( It's the only way. Their minds are too vulnerable to attack, and have been long before this, like the lighthouse. Before that with the practices of the Attaryl. Possession. The thrall of mermaids and goddess knows what else. Magic wards only go so far in this world. )

Wrath is well-versed in mental barriers, although mainly from our world.

( She knows the two of them are close, and Wrath is good target practice. She first learned this the hard way, but it's also how Emilia was ultimately able to resist demonic influence. Why she was able to fight the lighthouse's influence. )

Offering Anduin to do this is not the same as then submitting to it. Turning his back to someone, lowering himself in submission in any way is immediately a repellent thing -- even if that person is Anduin Wrynn. If he were indoors, could sit and let Anduin rise to do it that would be one thing.

Wrathion weighs up his options a long moment, then draws his hair over one shoulder and after another few seconds of hesitation slowly drops to kneel facing him. The tension in doing it is clear, anxiety locking all his muscles and his heart beginning to race. He knows he doesn't have to, knows he could have found another way to do this.

Yet this is a matter of trust, and this is the most open display of it he can offer.

( Wrath stares at her as if she has taken him entirely by surprise, as if he had not expected any of this. Something close to wonder shines in the gold within his eyes as if he is transfixed. He considers answering her in words, but what could he say? So much of his responses tie back to the curse, which ties his tongue.

He would like to say they have waited longer than she knows. He would like to say he hates hearing his name said by anyone else, but it always sounds like an exquisite sin when she says it that way as if she is tempting the devil in turn and how he wants to be tempted by her. Only her.

In the end, Wrath has always believed in actions over words, and so he says nothing at all beyond reaching his hand up to frame the side of her face. He wants, more than anything, to tug her toward him so their mouths can press together, so he can devour her.

All the reasons they've held off until now be damned. However, as he leans in to do exactly that - his mouth a breath from her own, understanding she might claim him now as he wanted her to that night - the ship lurches violent and suddenly. His grip at her back tightens, and he stares up toward the deck above with an open sigh. )

More trouble. ( There always is. )

Edited 2022-07-05 00:58 (UTC)

(

)

( faint snoring can be heard from the corner grace three has claimed as her own. emilia looks over at her, equally faint smile touching her lips, before she sobers once more. she is not a nice woman. experience has toughened her, fury driving her, but she is not without genuine kindness.

she turns to diego with some of it now, some understanding of the matter at hand. his bitterness. )

Allison mentioned his passing. That it was ... complicated.

[ He gives her an odd look. It... never occurred to him to ask Wrath about mental barriers, but it should have. No one in his family has ever been able to break one of Allison's rumors, and Five fallen for every compulsion since he came here. ]

I suppose he would be. [ He just assumed it had something to do with being a demon. ] He taught you?

That means very little.

[Different places will have different dating systems. What's more relevant is the actual place she comes from.]

What kind of world?

( Oh. They are both sticking around, huh?

Emilia does avert her gaze, an instinct driven by how disquieted she remains from her experience with the mermaid. How close she was to walking the plank. Draws her eyes up toward the moon instead, briefly. Was it even true that she was a true daughter of the moon? Or was that another lie Nonna fed her? )

My friend Claudia —

( The only one she'd ever had, really, prior to Allison befriending her. )

She was entrusted with the task of preparing the bodies of the deceased, back in the island we grew up in. Our version of death rites. She never encountered a ghost, I don't think, though she loved to tell tales when we were younger.

( Share stories of how the mummies came to be. It would make Emilia squirm, and Vittoria — it's hard to think of it now, but Vittoria would always lean forward with a hungry gleam in her eye. Demanding to know more. )

We have an arrangement.

( Pride is far from her greatest sin, but it does wound her ego a bit to think of how rusty she'd been when they picked up their training again. She is not about to admit easily she still has a way to go. )

It's grueling work. ( Frustrating, and frankly brutal. But worth it, if her mind and emotions remain hers. )

[ And it didn't prevent her from having to stay up all night making candles. It still manages to bother him that he hasn't learned anything to protect himself that he didn't already know, considering the amount of time he's spent with Wrath. ]

An arrangement. [ He raises an eyebrow. ] I thought it was more than that.

Yes, I recall.

[But, of course, it's one thing to hear about it, another to see it in practice. Viktor looks endlessly curious, deciding that he can perhaps get a little closer. There's a stool nearby, on the deck, which he pulls over so he can have somewhere to sit. The first thing he does is reach for the candle.]

Do you mind if I have a look?

Two hundred. Not that ancient. [ Looks him over; Xie Lian looks like he's in his late teens but talks like he's old, which makes Mo Ran that much more curious. Plus, he can easily pick up on the power of his presence alone. ] Are you an immortal cultivator or something?

Is it?

[ He's never thought about it too much if something like that is a practical solution. It was just a solution. ]

(diego is not one to mince words, not when it came to his father. he snorts a little.)

It wasn't that complicated. The guy was an asshole. Always was, always will be. Ain't anything gonna change that.

(diego has a soft heart beyond his tough exterior and he can forgive people -- within reason. but some people don't deserve it, his father is one of them.)

Something like that, I suppose.

[Every world has its legends after all.]

The stars here are different. Not just that humans assemble them in different ways or sin different stories, they're just entirely different, and yet my power is still there.

It certainly sounds like it to me. You have eaten, have you not? Then the goal is achieved.

I... guess you could say that?

[It feels so embarrassing, having this conversation multiple times.)

I'm a Martial God. I ascended to heaven a little over 800 years ago.

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