let's set d o w n some (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
groundrules) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
westwhere2022-06-03 07:06 pm
groundrules) wrote in westwhere2022-06-03 07:06 pm
Entry tags:
- 2ha: chu wanning,
- arcane: viktor,
- asoiaf: daenerys targaryen,
- game of thrones: jon snow,
- idolish7: tenn kujo,
- kingdom of the wicked: emilia,
- kingdom of the wicked: wrath,
- mo dao zu shi: xue yang,
- oh! my emperor: beitang moran,
- star trek: jim kirk (aos),
- storm at sea,
- test drive,
- tian guan ci fu: xie lian,
- travel arc,
- umbrella academy: diego,
- umbrella academy: five,
- vampire diaries: damon salvatore,
- warcraft: anduin wrynn,
- warcraft: wrathion
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!
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…!
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!
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.
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.
NOTES
Faolan | The Bridei Chronicles | Tourist! (action or prose is fine!)
Faolan takes to his situation as well as he can, which is to say with begrudging acceptance. He has at least been on sea voyages before, many times on the journey between Dalriada and the land of the Priteni, and these ships are not that unfamiliar with the vessels he has traveled on. Unfortunately, for the most part everything else is uncannily foreign. Even the crew, and the others he has found himself stranded here together with -- Karsa explained they are from another world, but it is more than that. There is so much here that Faolan has never seen before, and he gets the feeling, as he quietly observes the others aboard both ships, that is not entirely the case with most others.
Still, he does his part. And he secretly prides himself in being one of the only other outsiders canny enough with the lines to be allowed to help haul the ropes with the crew. He puts his head down and works without complaint, making certain not to stand out too far -- an admirable member of the crowd.
It is at night, when the crew is drinking and gambling and singing and entertaining, that Faolan doesn't quite know what to do with himself.
What does a guard dog do with himself when he has no one there to guard?
Wandering the deck with a mug of stew in hand, he spots someone else who seems to have made a similar escape as himself.
"Not enjoying the festivities?" he asks.
THAT SON OF A BISCUIT EATER
Faolan supposes that it says something -- a lot, really -- about himself, that when word spreads of the potential for conflict, he feels almost relieved to have something to break the monotony of the sea voyage.
He supposes that it was something of a selfish thought, especially understanding how unlikely it is that some of his fellow otherworlders are indeed prepared for such a combat. He is a spy, an assassin, among other things. He has been killing people for quite a long time now, and he is really quite good at it. There is a reason that people like him exist, and it is so that people like -- well, some of them, do not have to do such things.
Ah, well, he thinks, drawing his daggers at the first sound of cannon fire. It cannot be helped. He can do his best to keep them alive through this, provided they don't get themselves killed.
"Can you handle this?" he asks, as the ship rocks slightly under the boom of yet another bombardment.
THE CROSSING
This strange otherworld only seems to get stranger to Faolan. Not a very social man -- a hazard of the job, he tells himself -- when not on duty he has taken to spending most of his time up on deck, away from the majority of the passengers and crew. Down below, it is... Too much for him. Too many people, too much merriment. Someone has an instrument he does not know the name of and has taken to playing it in the evenings and that especially is too much for him, on these nights where he feels so entirely out of place. So lacking in purpose.
He will not allow himself to consider the idea that he might be lonely, for it is a foolish thought, and a man like himself cannot be afforded such emotions, but. He has been a tool, honed for a specific purpose, for the majority of his adult life. Without Bridei here -- which is a foolish thought, for of course he isn't, and for that he is grateful -- he does feel rather like a blade left to rust in the sun.
It is in the midst of these idlings that Faolan nearly, very nearly misses the sight of a man, climbing on board the ship. But of course that's ridiculous, because this vessel is actually quite large, and how in the name of the gods would they have gotten up here?
And then there comes another, and he realizes quite suddenly that there's something exceedingly wrong with the pair of them.
"This is kinder," the closest one rasps, swiping for Faolan, to which Faolan replies by drawing his dagger and stabbing the man in the chest.
It doesn't do a damned thing.
Faolan's eyes widen slightly, staring at his dagger protruding from the man for a second too long. Just long enough for the man to grab at him, with startling strength, and tackle him to the deck.
"Holy-- Over here!" Faolan calls, wrestling with the larger -- why does everyone seem to be larger than him here for that matter -- undead man. "A little help?!"
scallywags
He grunts when the young foreigner approaches, less in greeting or inviting him over than in the time-honoured indication at sea that a man has been sighted, and he will be tolerated for the time it takes for both parties to acquire better sense and a mutual aversion of each other's fleas. )
...lost me silver. To'at rascal there, Cod.
( And he nods to a man lean, mean, grinning over another set of cards, while a different sailor before him curses up a storm. Mr. Eames, graciously: )
He cheats just as well as the dead whore his mother did on his good father.
no subject
Faolan raises his eyebrows at the man indicated, before glancing back to the man beside him. Second mate Mr. Eames, he believes he has heard him referred to, in passing.]
Sounds to me like you had best find another way to spend your time, if you are to have any silver left on you by the end of this voyage.
no subject
Here's this lad, muttering his nonsense, and ain't for Mr. Eames to correct him, but there's a sputter that riots hard from his lungs, and, look here, he's prevailing, because life is sense, see, is sensibility, see, is men speaking up for a cause that's just.
Namely, gambling. Always. Treasured and godliest of sports. )
Aye...? Like what? Speakin'em prayers like priests? You see'em? Lost their wits, them. If ever had them the marbles.
no subject
Just that. A display. But the pirates seemed to insist on it, so he had assumed that they would all be of the same religious sort. The captain certainly is, anyway.]
You don't approve?
no subject
( He knows, does Mr. Eames. Clever, honest, righteous lad. The pride and joy of every temple he's never visited, more devout than the first priest whose pockets he teased gaping and open, then gallantly eased of coin.
Why, you trust him right, trust him proper. Look him in the eye and know him for pristine and pure. )
Them, takin' ole Quicksilver's coin, trotting around like children with marbles. What good, eh? Aye, you see a gain from'em? You see result?
( Not Mr. Eames, he's still waiting, mind to the reeking from the incense they poured on him once. )
no subject
You are not wrong, my friend.
[Faolan glances sideways at Eames, giving him a quick, assessing look, before he has to ask:]
What of the rest of the crew? Do they share in your sentiment? Is the whole act merely for the Captain's benefit?
no subject
( This, hastily, because be a fool who reckons himself the leader o'men, but for God so graced. And the last fellow who tried this may have earned himself mutiny, besides it.
But Mr. Eames drifts a little closer, tips in, as if to murmur his secrets: )
But me, I never was in me thoughts alone before. ( The hint, lad: accept it. )
(no subject)
(no subject)
That Son of a Biscuit Eater
Here he was, a skinny-assed. barely an adult man, holding a 'stick' loosely in one hand. That's what it looked like from the outside.
"Not my first fight," Regulus said. "But I've never done this on a ship before."
Regulus eyed the knives in the other man's hands. Would those work against whatever it was those other pirates were tossing at them now? Regulus would find out.
"You?"
no subject
He offers his companion something of a shrug in return to the question. He does not want to brag about his experience. That would be bad form, both in terms of courtesy, and for the fact that good spies don't go about bragging about their prowess.
"I have seen battle before," he replies. "But not on a ship. And not without...something more in the way of organization of our party, if I am being perfectly honest."
no subject
Back home, this very thing had terrified him. But he'd learned quickly how to fight despite his fear, because he'd feared something more. Being found out by the wrong side--his side.
But none of that had followed him here. No one here knew him from Merlin. And he hadn't chosen any of this. He'd made no pact with the magical devil, that he knew of, here. They'd plucked him out of the water and if he didn't pull his weight, he didn't get fed and time in a solitary jail cell. Or worse, probably being tossed back into the sea.
In otherwords, this wasn't his fight, he was ancillary. The moral right and wrong here didn't weigh on his mind or his to measure and define.
"I think-"
He was cut off by the battle cry of one of their assailants playing the warrior and swinging across towards them.
Not his morals in the balance, but he did have to defend himself.
His wrist twitched and the rope the man was swinging on sliced clean in two, and the man fell into the ocean, scream changing seconds later to something less confident just before the splash.
"Chaos is the point," he finished his thought.
A friend of the fallen started swinging across from the other ship. And Regulus figured it was the polite thing to do to let his companion take care of this one and gestured as such.
no subject
Something.
It's not every day that things just happen when people wave their hands about. Faolan isn't stupid -- he knows it has something to do with that stick in the other man's hand, but that's about where his knowledge stops. After all, he doesn't have any experience with this sort of thing.
He raises his eyebrows at his companion, both at -- whatever in the hell that was -- and also the gesture that follows. Alright, fine. Two can play at this game.
Faolan draws a dagger, waiting until the man has cleared the rail and lands on the deck before he releases it. The weapon sails in a perfect arc, sinking into the chest of the second invader, who drops onto the deck -- dead, a look of stunned surprise on his face.
Faolan makes a (somewhat more sarcastic) gesture back at his companion as if to say, tadaa, before crossing the distance and retrieving his dagger.
"I imagine that it's certainly their goal," he says, nodding toward the dead man.
Scallywags
I'm not much for crowds, and I have had precious little time to myself of late.
Present company excluded, of course. That would be rude of me, especially since you appear to be new.
no subject
I know the feeling.
[About the crowds, that is. He has had quite a lot of time to himself, over the years, due to the nature of his work. That is the way that he likes it best.
Faolan gestures vaguely towards the noise of the rest of the group.]
How long have you been traveling together?
no subject
[No, he doesn't sound like he is a joking or being sarcastic, either.]
We've had to deal with so much, it's hard to even realize that much time has actually passed.
no subject
Faolan is trained in the art of espionage. Of not letting his thoughts or emotions show on his face. It is for that reason alone that he does not show how much it truly troubles him to know -- that he has no way of knowing how long he might be stuck here himself.]
You have been busy?
[This 'so much to deal with' comment is both ominous and intriguing.]
no subject
We've been traveling east, all this time. With various stops in different places, some which had means to transport us back home, although unfortunately just a small number at a time, and not always reliably.
[Still saying this completely conversationally.]
We've left quite a lot of ruins and dead bodies in our wake, too. Ke-Waihu was a welcome change in that regard.
no subject
[Faolan echoes his words, a frown forming on his face. (When is he not frowning these days...)]
If you are still here is that not a sign that this transport you sought did not work at all?
[As for the rest of what he has said. About the ruins and the dead bodies. He will save that up and store that away, though asking about it outright may be unwise at this particular juncture. Though he does want to understand what made this Ke-Waihu different, in that regard...]
no subject
[Yes, that might sound surprising.]
We were told in advance that probably only a few people at a time could go , and while I'd rather be home, there is also no pressing matter for me to attend there. I felt it better to let people who had urgent needs attempt it.
The Crossing [CW : gore]
Well, then, the creature's head seems to have been separated from its body, and the person who did it is holding the head in one hand and the body in the other.
If it's any consolation, he doesn't look big. There's definitely muscle there, but he looks like a teenager, wearing flowy white robes and his very long hair pulled back in a top knot.
he also doesn't seem disturbed by the fact that he literally decapitated a zombie with his bare hands, somehow.]
Are you alright?
no subject
He blinks up at him, before pushing himself more upright.]
I have. Seen better days.
[He gestures at the creature.] What in the name of all that is holy is that?
[And what are you, for that matter... One step at a time.]
no subject
If I have to venture a guess I would say 'undead drowned sailor', probably, although I'm not sure who is calling them out specifically.
[He'll walk a few steps to throw the bits over the railing and if the sounds below are anything to go guy, some... things... are feasting on flesh.]
You've only just arrived, haven't you? Has anyone explained a bit more about this place?
no subject
No, he is most definitely better off not knowing what that is all about.
He gives the man a direct, assessing look, before he allows:]
It is likely that I missed some details.
[Read: he dismissed the whole undead warlord factions business as a load of fanciful bullshit.]
no subject
Well, what did they tell you, then? And who was it that brought you up to speed?
no subject
Karsa, she said her name was. Works for a man who calls himself the Merchant. She said that we were summoned into the land of Akhuras by warring undead factions. That the Merchant is taking us east, in the hopes to get us home.
[He shrugs. Honestly, if there had been more, as much as he is a man for details, he had not paid too much attention. It had been so fanciful an explanation, he rather thought it had been some sort of ruse.]
(no subject)