westwhere | serthica: war & peace

serthica: war & peace

Clockwork Serthica’s arrival event stretches til around 3 September. You’re welcome to hit up this log or make your own entries. Characters not assigned to a region can still access it, as long as they’re discreet.

Please share cool plot clues via network — and have fun!

WAR & PEACE

SUMMARY: The Merchant assigns the group to determine if the dead lurk within Serthica’s adversarial halves. Eidris and Minaras hold a summit to normalise trade within Serthica’s elusive Neutral Zone — while a resistance movements attempts to capture Minaras lead figure Arabella. In Eidris, locals must calm a maddened dragon and her cohort and retrieve her hatching eggs. Minaras hosts its eerie civic indoctrination that seeks to extirpate physical and moral decay.

FAIR FORTUNE | SWITZERLAND | EIDRIS: THERE BE DRAGONS | MINARAS: EYES ON YOU

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FAIR FORTUNE

The party at sea is smuggled into Serthica with help from false passport papers secured by their Mouse House companions. The two groups meet at Serthica’s port customs, in time for the Merchant’s private transmission:

”Good afternoon. I salute and thank the efforts of our recent additions. You performed exceptionally.

You will hear Serthica is sundered by war, sickness and irreconcilable differences. In truth, she is likely divided by the interests of those who weaponise fear and manipulate opportunity.

In Eidris, they claim Minaraians are not human. In Minaras, they speak the same of Eidris. Disgust, dismay and paranoia have created a… system of profound physical avoidance. If this is mere fearmongering, it is distasteful, but inconsequential. However… if one of the citadel’s halves has succumbed to the dead, who now know to feign they yet live… this marks a dire escalation. You must study this.

Your transportation beacon sleeps in the holy grounds of Vassarizhia. It will light within months, when the Heart’s clock quiets for its annual winding. You may visit the grounds during the upcoming trade summit.

While in Serthica, your only objectives are to survive until the beacon’s eye opens, and to discover the dead present. I pray but question you will prevail.”

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SWITZERLAND

After a lengthy inspection of their passport papers, the party is steered towards the Sanctuary of Serthica’s Neutral Zone — a vast institute near Serthica’s great clock tower. Here, representatives of Eidris and Minaras assemble at midday for peaceful negotiations to improve distant trade relations.

■ The Merchant recommends mingling to broaden your investigation into Serthica’s dead. Even Minaras leading figurehead Arabella will attend.

■ For peace-keeping, entrants to the Sanctuary must surrender their weapons or allow them to be sealed, if they want to carry them in. Weapons are released on departure. Physical enhancements that characters cannot remove (ex: vampire fangs) are excepted.

■ Those who are unwilling to give up or seal their weapons can head on to Eidris and Minaras.

■ Summit attendants receive badges reflecting their Serthica identities, or can divert the greeting droid and liberate the insignia of a delayed delegation. Higher-ranking badges earns you more lenient treatment and higher security clearance.

■ Eidris attendants receive golden armbands or scarves, those of Minaras dark blue.

■ In bustling halls, officials negotiate grain exchanges, new train railways, the currency exchange rate and the saddening conditions of Mouse House exiles. Alas, if only someone (not them) could help.

■ Those drafted into the talks are toasted with a green, mint-like potion — an unadvertised truth serum intended to keep negotiations honest. The potion’s effects last two to four hours, compelling truth but not speech. But do talk: candour wins answers.

■ Artisans display their finest novelty items in the main reception hall. Aggressively enthusiastic traders seek testers and investors for their wares — potent opiates, goggles that show you the world in 10 years’ time, even detailed plans for luxury teahouses offering droid companionship. Extricate yourself with as much coin and dignity as possible.

SLEEP, CHILD, SLEEP

■ The great clock of the Neutral Zone strikes 18:00, triggering a light three-minute earthquake and the rise of nocturnal Minaras.

■ The Sanctuary loses all electric power. As servants rush for candles, you might notice some native summit delegates behave peculiarly: their eyes look glassy, faces trapped in an expression of comical, exaggerated dismay. Many are frozen in tense positions. Others move in sluggish, uncoordinated and jerky spasms. One might catch your wrist and attempt to speak in staggered, guttural croaks.

■ Lights return once the earthquake finishes. Locals resume regularly and do not seem to have noticed any erratic behaviour.

SLEEP, CHILD, SLEEP
CONTENT WARNING: TERROR ATTACK

■ Starting her speech, Arabella of Minaras calls a tribute for those lost to the great Culling sickness that struck Serthica mere years before. The vigil is interrupted by a fusillade of rifle shots fired from outside, through the Sanctuary’s wall-long windows.

■ The bullets exclusively target Minaras delegates and do not contain gunpowder, but a thickened, pale liquid. Once shot, those wounded experience a hysterical, incontrollable terror and the certainty that their greatest fear is hunting them. Many of the shot delegates develop an instant flight response and seek to claw their way out of the Sanctuary, with no care for whom they trample in their path. This terror lasts 30-60 minutes. Please content warn if you graphically describe your character’s greatest fear.

■ As rifle gunshots die down, a voice from outside introduces the Remembrance coalition, pledging safety if the summit surrenders Arabella.

■ The Sanctuary activates emergency measures: protective magical wards start to slowly reinforce, while attendants risk their lives to return characters’ weapons.

■ You could team up and help Arabella’s few remaining guards to escort her to safety in Minaras. Drop a line if you take this route.

■ Outside, you find the Sanctuary’s grounds have been drenched in a thick fog that barely allows you to see steps ahead. Your senses dull, and you are gradually prone to sleep — while masked men close in with rifles and vicious droid hunting hounds.

■ Help Sanctuary guards take out the assailants — and submit your character for a RNG draw to interrogate a lone captive.

■ Characters who later investigate the Sanctuary can find some of its windows have been very carefully pricked, fissured or even minutely holed, easing the way for attack.

Crawl back to your home base in Eidris or Minaras — you need the beauty sleep.

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EIDRIS | THERE BE DRAGONS

Eidris’s relaxed atmosphere might balm your rattled nerves after the Sanctuary’s disasters. Startled citizens gather to offer you help settling in, while dragons seek you out to curl up and nuzzle.

Eidris is governed by natural order and harmony, achieved through firm etiquette, consideration and reminders to slow down. You can hole up in a room in one of the many abandoned and repurposed villas, or group up to take a whole house. Local technology is a blend of mechanical gears and magic that substitutes fuels. Sorcerers are frequent, boastful and admired.

Dig deeper, and you’ll find the people of Eidris are unwilling to linger on negative experiences and gradually lose memory of them. If queried, many natives have normalised intermittent amnesia, with some using their link to their dragons to stay anchored in the present.

■ Acclimate to your roles in Eidris and enjoy the sweet welcome of neighbourly gifted meals and knitwear and a personal, signed letter of support from king Thivar.

■ Eidris prepares for the rare hatching of dragon eggs, lain by the beautiful fire-breathing Aiva — one of the fewer martial dragons used by Eidris’ military. Two weeks into your stay (around 25 August, forward date at will), word spreads that Aiva’s mate has been deeply injured by a Minaras scouting ship during the 6:00-7:00 overlap period when the two citadel halves are both overground.

■ A panicked, distrustful Aiva collects her silver-shelled eggs from the formal nest quarters, hiding them on the rooftops or in the balconies of tall, dangerous buildings. Several other martial dragons assist Aiva by guarding these hideaways until the young dragons can hatch.

■ Eidris calls back most transport dragons to avoid altercation with their fire-breathing, paranoid brethren. This might strand some riders on the nearest decrepit rooftop, while testy dragons fly by. They don’t initiate attack, but are more prone to warning tail sweeps or light charring, if you come close.

■ Dragon lord Cain d’Ubiq urges riders that can reconnect with their dragons to help retrieve the 1m, 50-kg eggs and deliver them back to the dragon grounds nest before they hatch by sundown — terrorising the baby dragons that wake alone and ripping into local architecture. Other riders are needed to spread a trail of deep incense smoke in the air that can soothe dragons from their outburst. Lend a hand!

■ Characters who enlisted for dragon riding on arrival could be middling riders by this point.

■ Aiva’s children hatch moments before the clock ticks 18:00 and Minaras also surges overground. Characters linked to a dragon feel the birth: first as an overwhelming exuberance, then as an all-consuming and irrational dread that briefly reduces them to inexplicable tears.

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MINARAS | EYES ON YOU

A sharp departure from Eidris’ laissez-faire is watchful Minaras, where citizens obsess with schedules, orderliness and time — as if every second is both borrowed and wasted.

Newcomers can choose between one-person 2.5x2.5m ‘sleep units’ in packed industrial homes, or pool funds to rent small refurbished alcoves that once served as hospital or science halls. Space is a luxury, silence a myth: helper droids constantly fuss after their masters, steam engines cough outside, and the gentle thrum on the streets betrays the current-shifting omnipresence of large Watch ships.

Civic sound systems periodically bleat reminders for citizens to STAY HALE, STAY WHOLE, alongside tips for basic droid care, the latest in scientific discoveries, paid ads and reminders not to park your robotic carriage near hydrants.

■ Quickly learn the ropes of your assumed identity, as Minaraians have a duty to report peculiar behaviours.

■ Watch ships prevent lawbreaking while Minaras is overground. Crime rates spike rapidly when Minaras falls underground.

■ More than violence, Minaraians appear to fear their pocket watch times being wrong, filth and sickness. The smallest cough earns a stern glance and a wide berth.

■ As part of Minaras’ periodic social indoctrination, you are robotically escorted alongside your peers and other unrelated Minaraians to a civic integration centre. Here, you take turns before a mechanical droid sphinx labelled ASCLEPIOS that asks, ”What rots you? and compels an honest answer (this can be emotional, mental or physical sickness, minor or severe).

■ A painless tattoo appears on the back of your hand, listing your Decay (ex: ‘malnourishment,’ ‘a choleric temper’). Others in the indoctrination centre must help you mend through acts of care (ex: cooking you a meal, helping you meditate). The tattoo fades after 72 hours, or once sufficient acts of care have ‘cured’ you.

■ After one week (around 20 August, but feel free to forward date), a transmission from Arabella informs watch, aerial, military and health units that Minaras is changing the daily schedule of its scout ships. The last scouts will now be deployed at 4:15am and return to base by 5:00am.

QUESTIONS

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( Not at all winded, just looking invigorated, he quirks a brow at his taller companion. )

Now can we compare swords?

( Which is a jest, even as it's a commentary on how stupid this situation and city is, and how they're in an alley where everything itches under his skin and machines are as populous as living peoples. )

[Kanesada just looks at the man for a few seconds, then shakes his head with a little laugh.]

Man, you're insistent. At least tell me your name first.

[Because even though it probably isn't for humans, this feels awfully intimate for Kanesada. His sword is him, after all!]

( He grins in turn, unrepentant and outwardly seeming somewhat relaxed--just as likely visible that he's still on guard, given those who are fighters are not those who prematurely decide they're safe simply for having managed one running evasion.

He takes a step back, sweeping into a bow with a hand pressed over the center of his chest, a leg planted with bent knee that could in turn lead to action taken immediately as needed, and the leaving of his other hand at his hip, in attendance to his sword. His eyes stay on his current companion's face as he says, with a bit of a wry drawl: )

Licyn Mansbane, love. Well met, and better dodged.

[Of course they should still be on guard; this is a new location woth dangers as yet unknown. But that's no excuse to be entirely without manners, even if Kanesada isn't known for being the most proper.

In return of the quite fancy bow he receives, Kanesada simply puts his hands on his waist and bends slightly, not very deeply but enough to observe etiquette.]

You can call me Izumi.

[Which totally sounds suspicious, but he has his reasons for keeping his full name hidden, okay!

But with another glance toward the street, Kanesada backs further into the alley and finally draws his blade, slowly and carefully, so as not to hurt Licyn or draw attention to the two of them. He holds his left arm out and then rests the flat of the blade on his arm before angling himself for Licyn to get a better look.]

Here. I know the light's not great, but you can see the curve for yourself, since you already guessed it.

( "You can call me," is an earmark of its own, and if he felt a need to be bothered over strangers in a strange land having identity screens, he might, possibly, press. Licyn however does not feel so compelled, and in fact simply hums thoughtfully. )

Izumi.

( He says, drawing out the sounds of it: thankfully capturing the right sounds. )

Mm, my eyes are better than you think. ( Lifting a hand, he pauses, quirking a brow. ) May I?

( It's uncertain if he's asking for the blade (in this case, he isn't), or asking to touch down with his fingernail, for the sound and feel and, if he were masochistic in the moment, the cut of it. (He isn't.) )

[Licyn doesn't question his name choice, thankfully, which is nice. Less to explain when he doesn't know how much he can trust him.

Even if he's a fellow swordsman, and one who seems to really respect the weapon at his side, he is still a stranger. So when the request comes, Kanesada hesitates for a moment. He could be trustworthy. He could be someone Kanesada would allow to touch him without fear of damage or I'll intent.

But he can't be sure and his true form is too precious to hand over on uncertainty.

His hand tightens on the hilt of his blade and be pulls back a tiny bit.]

Sorry. I'm really protective. You can keep looking, though.

( Another silent quirk of his brow, but to each their own sensibility, and so he keeps his touch from landing on the blade, small as that step away becomes. Still, it's his fingers that trace over the steel with that hairsbreadth of distance between even as his eyes follow along. )

Such a beautiful wave pattern... was that part of the process in folding steel, or something in the tempering? Then the white colouration, that's lovely, isn't it?

( tracing back down, toward the tip, head tilting as he does so, dark eyes intense upon the metal. he's listening to anything beyond them, finding the division of attention appreciably simple, all things considered.

after all, one of them already has their sword drawn. The drag of his attention upward again is languorous, involved; he blinks, slow and thoughtful, lips parted, considering what a single bladed sword strike from something of this length, with this curve, means in any given fight. How, in a sense, to deflect it, and the craft that makes a weapon into something beautiful, and not simply something practical.

Though it is, he notes to satisfaction, not bedecked in something as useless as jewels. )

Ah, then this line to the tip, for that final curve... this blade is meant for cutting, on this one honed edged. Two hander?

( He steps closer, aware of where Izumi stands, his tension, any movement that turns this from show to demonstration. Breathes in deeply, catching scent of whatever oil, and was that dry... a powder, or some kind? Last used on the blade, and the hint of what would be hand oils, something different. Not touching still, and tracing upward, to the hilt in his parlance, little more than a decoration just large enough to prevent a blade's easy rush up along the cutting edge of the curved sword, and he hums a pleased note, eyes lingering, appreciating the length. )

No land creature used in that wrapping, but what it is, I can't say. Two handed for certain, look at the length you have for holding. Sharp, fast strikes, is that the way of it? Ah, and here... what manner of creature is this?

[Licyn doesn't touch, for which Kanesada is grateful, but his fingers are still so close that he can feel the hair stand on the back of his neck. But the questions are interesting questions and ones that he can't help but want to answer, though he tilts his head at the detailed inquiries.]

Your eyes really are good.

[A soft, proud smile graces his lips.]

That wavy pattern is the hamon. It's formed by placing clay on the blade during the hardening process, which affects the strength of the cutting edge, as well as gives it that design.

Yeah, these types of blades are better at cutting. They can still stab, of course, that tip isn't just for show, but you can tell with the curve. When the wielder cuts through an opponent, the momentum and arc of the swing help the blade slide on through and out and not necessarily get stuck. And it's a two-handed sword, though you can use it with one. It just won't be as easy or effective.

[Licyn steps closer and Kanesada breathes in, raising his eyes to watch the other man, to really see just how much he's enjoying this.]

It's skin from a stingray. See how it's bumpy under there? It makes it easier to grip, even under the cloth.

[But he glances down at this blade.]

Hm? Which creature?

( New words, rolled over his tongue in soft murmurs, tone matched well: mimicry is a talent when you cross regions, when you make of yourself something fluid, something difficult to pin down. )

You'd want a shorter blade if mounted too, not by much. If it's for two hands, it'd be a poor fit for anything but the foot-steady chaos of the battlefield, and it'll shine brilliant, singing death.

( It's a song he's known for decades by now, and one he responds to, for better or worse. The mention of the stingray merits the obvious surprise, nothing he cares about holding back when he hovers his fingers over the hilt, close enough he fancies he could feel its coolness, or its residual heat. )

I wondered at the scent. I don't know of this stingray, but of other rays from the sea, those I've heard being used. Shark's too.

( The creature, however, is one he does finally tap, just the barest touch of a well manicured nail to the eastern dragon right above the guard, from which the woven cording over the rayskin extends. )

This one, love.

Generally, yeah, though mounted warriors in my land have used longer blades, too. Longer reach from horseback and all. Though they also were mounted archers for a time before swords became the weapon of choice, so, like...

[He shrugs. There are pros and cons to everything. But upon hearing of his sword's scent, Kanesada frowns, confused, and bends his head to sniff at the hilt. Did he smell his sweat or something? If he did, wouldn't it make more sense to smell all that on him and not the sword? What the heck...

Anyway, he doesn't smell anything out of the ordinary. Weirdo.

While he's down there, though, Licyn taps a part of the hilt ever so gently. Kanesada feels it send a shudder down his back, but he keeps himself still so as to not arouse suspicion.]

Hm? Oh, you mean the dragon.

[He straightens up again.]

It's a mythological creature. Think kinda like a snake with legs, but not quite a lizard?

Archery is always useful, up until you're dealing with magic or hand-canons or any nonsense of that sort.

( He still finds archery more useful because it requires less specialised materials, depending on where you are, so you can make a shitty arrow and get things done where you can't get a ball of metal to throw at killing speeds.

Magic... he's not going to talk about magic. That conversation ends before it begins.

Answer given on the creature, he clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth, straightening. His smile is easy, amused less at the answer than the description. )

Something closer to these ones here, I see. Ours never were described like this... or those flying over the other half of the city.

Yeah, well. Evolution of warfare and all that.

[Kanesada isn't a fan of firearms, either, though it's more personal than anything. To be used on the cusp of the end of an era, to see the way of swords, of the samurai themselves, be left behind by an ever-changing world...

But that's all a part of history. And as much as he doesn't like it, that's how things have to be. Kanesada carefully sheathes his sword and crosses his arms over his chest.]

Oh, right. They do have dragons here. What are yours like, then?

( He almost seems disappointed as the blade's sheathed, but he sighs, quirking a lopsided smirk and looking back up at his companion's face. It's a nice face. He really doesn't mind looking, particularly when the man's not sulking over compulsory tattoos on their bodies.

Searing magic, he hates it though. )

Furrier, so I've heard. No one's seen any around in centuries. Now, as you've shown me yours, love, would it please you to see mine?

( His hand falls to stroke over the shot pommel of his sword, fingers sliding down the handle to curl suggestively around the hilt. Flirtation with his sword? Or to his sword, in this case; the hilt alone shows obvious differences to the blade just so recently bared. )

Furry dragons sound pretty cool...

[And kind of cute. Shame about them being possibly extinct or whatever, though.

But Licyn moves on quickly from one subject to another and Kanesada can't help but lean in a little closer with the promise of sword talk. Swords are cool! Even kinds he doesn't recognize at all, like Licyn's.

He's really handsy when it comes to that hilt, though. Kanesada tries to ignore it.]

Yeah? Go on, then.

( Fingers fully slide around the hilt, opposite hand catching the leather scabbard as he pulls his talwar free. Ornamentation leans toward the minimal; hilt given texture, otherwise bold lines defining the pieces, but not excessive decoration. The smooth knuckle guard that didn't quite connect to the pommel rounding it out.

What's apparent, as he offers his blade hilt first to his partner of the moment, is the blade is well cared for. Sharp. Wootz steel, though its polished enough that the tell of its featuring is difficult to know. Curved, toward its end, balanced. Another slicing instrument, tip capable of a thrust as needed, but not intended for it. Still one side bladed, one side not; it isn't a longsword, no. Strength preserved with only one honed end when it has that curve.

Licyn's eyes trace along the length of his blade, looking for signs of dryness, rusting, nicks, chips. None are there, he knows, but it's habit, ingrained and difficult to shake off anytime he's examining his blade without the intention being to wield it. )

About time to secure more oil and another length of muslin.

[With the hilt offered to him, Kanesada almost reluctantly takes it, laying the blade over his clothed arm as he did with his own before. There is only space for one hand to wield it, which doesn't make him feel particularly comfortable, but every weapon has its intent and skill.

He angles himself a little toward the opening of the alley to get any of the residual light, to see better. What he sees is a blade that is obviously well-maintained, which isn't surprising considering the way Licyn had spoken earlier, but still nice to see on display.]

It's beautiful. Also a cutting blade with that curve, yeah? Though I gotta wonder how much force you can really deliver just one-handed. I'd love to see you wield it in person one day.

[The comment Licyn makes can only refer to general maintenance. Kanesada frowns. He really needs to do the same for his own sword, though he fears he'll never find the exact components he needs to properly care for it here.

This place sucks.

But with his own ogling done, he offers the hilt back to Licyn.]

It's lucky to have you as its keeper.

( He chuckles, shaking his head. )

Cutting blade, yes. I suspect yours might be a touch faster, when normally wielded.

( By that he means, when a normal human wields, compared to someone like himself, who has enhanced reflexes and thus the speed and strength boosts that make it more important the blade he uses can keep up with him safely.

He accepts his blade back, sheathing it with the ease of long practise and familiarity. )

Anytime, love. Though I admit I've never heard someone praise me for my blade's luck.

( Not as a keeper, outside of smiths appraising him of how he hasn't managed to compromise its integrity beyond saving. Impressive for any blade that's cut through bone and gristle regularly enough. )

Maybe you'll see it one day. This world seems to want to kill us pretty often.

[What with the whole being summoned here as some sort of sacrifice for undead lords or whatever the hell is going on. Kanesada says no thanks! He'll stab, punch, claw, bite his way forward before he lets that happen!

That's definitely an upside to having a human body. More appendages for self-defense and violence.]

Well, think about it. Swords are tools, of course, and they're meant to be used as such, but there's a difference when it comes to people who just use them and people who actually take care of them to ensure they get the most out of their weapon.

[He readjusts the blue mantle folded over his arm.]

Like, back where I'm from, if something exists for long enough, it can gain its own sentience or spirit or whatever you want to call it. So, I think if that were to ever happen with your sword, it would definitely have an affinity for you, as opposed to if you just used it until it no longer served your purposes. See? It's lucky to have you.

( Cue the slow, gentle, continual lift of his brows as he keeps talking. )

Mercenaries make themselves to be hire-able tools. If we didn't tend to what makes our trade possible, we'd be selling our lives for cheaper than air. Any fool who looks down upon what he wields deserves the fate that finds him.

( No comment on his sword ending up possessed and stalking him. Which isn't what this man said, but it's definitely how Licyn takes it, given his complicated and unhappy history with magic and magical constructs in particular. )

[Kanesada has said nothing wrong or suspicious and he will not apologize for being the bearer of truth!

But he sighs. Maybe that concept isn't as cut and dry for humans like it is for tsukumogami such as himself. Which makes sense. They don't usually think about things like this.]

Yeah, yeah, 'course. You're not wrong.

I know.

( Quirked lips, and then he nods his head to the other man. )

Now, shall we make our separate ways, and embed ourselves in our roles in this split citadel?

Yeah, we should, huh.

[Kanesada smiles and gives Licyn a casual salute.]

I need to figure out where someone else has ended up. I'm sure I'll see you around, yeah?

Inevitably, love. After all, we're both heading east.

( With a wink, and a blown kiss, he takes off at a ground eating trot. )

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serthica: war & peace

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