westwhere | the unwinding

the unwinding

Heya! Let loose for Serthica’s Unwinding — our event spanning 24 September-15 October that doubles as a test drive.

This round’s test drive participants do not require an invite to apply. Applications open over 8-14 October. Enjoy!

THE UNWINDING

TEST DRIVE TOURISTS | OLD TIMERS | DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE
SPILL THE TEA | DRIP BY DRIP | ALL A DREA —

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✘ NEWCOMERS | BARRELING IN

Soaring seagulls and splintered silence. You awaken on the shoreline of steampunk citadel Clockwork Serthica, recovered by the irritable witch Karsa.

She shares translation and communication devices, scarce healing and a rapid briefing: you have reached a world where undead forces seek to weaponise you in their battle for dominion. Karsa’s employer, the Merchant leads travel to beacons meant to return you home.

Other otherworlders have already infiltrated Serthica. Karsa steers newcomers into the impoverished underworld of the Mouse House, to board a rickety coal train serving the citadel.

■ Silver tongues can win you passage.

■ ...alternatively, hide in the obscenely large whiskey barrels the train also smuggles in.

■ Mid-voyage, the train quakes, slamming you into walls and windows. Around you, the stench of bleach, the warm crackle of embers and static magic that builds thick, nearly electric.

You feel faint and fainter, when you overhear Karsa’s murmured, “It’s too early” — “find” — “find” — “it’s like a drea” — “don’t unwind” — “all child’s play.”

And then you’re U n w i n d i n g.

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✘ OLD TIMERS | INHALE-EXHALE

Eidris, Minaras, the Neutral Zone: all abuzz with residential whispers of imminent Unwinding — an annual fixture natives dread without fully remembering.

■ In the two days leading to the Unwinding, characters struggle to tell apart or remember the physical features of natives.

■ Some locals steal you into dark alleys, where they become suddenly stiff, emitting a rusty, guttural Ke-ke-ke sound. They do not recall this after.

The Unwinding kicks off at 6am, when both Eidris and Minaras are overground. Jim Kirk’s fixed music box begins to play, its chipper rural tune overtaking your thoughts: “Up the mountain, in the grove, hand in hand to Ke-ke-ke — Ke-Waihu, fresh harvest’s a treasure trove, each fall we feast anew.”

Earth shatters seismically underfoot, magic depletes, the citadel’s clock tower strikes 6:00 — and an urgent communication from the Merchant is interrupted by static, “You can we-we-we-…-stand it, the white man come — remembrrrrrrrrrrrr live, you are alive, do not be convinsssss —ssss — ssssd otherwisssssss —”

But you’re already U n w i n d i n g.

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✘ DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

Down and down, you tumble, Alice — through a cavernous tunnel that widens and chokes arbitrarily. Sometimes you float and fly, sometimes you’re thrust sideways. Mostly, you keep falling.

■ Beware objects falling into you: from grand pianos to mystical balls of fire, stray beds, love letters and sharp-pointed weapons. Even a blood-spattered umbrella that shields against anything.

■ You’re dropped unceremoniously into an underground lair, as items keep falling down. Unclaimed, they disappear within minutes. Three jackalopes smoking opiate pipes point you indifferently towards a locked door. On its handle sit a bone dice and a note instructing, ROLL FOUR TO OPEN.

■ The dice can only be thrown every 10 minutes and feels too monstrously heavy to lift otherwise. Each roll makes the effect of the previous throw disappear. If you get:

one: gravity fades, the dice floats out of reach. ( The jackalopes enjoy the breeze. )

two: the floor, barring a few narrow steps at great jumping distance, is lava. ( The jackalopes check ‘hell’ off their vacation list.)

three: an irked dragon coils beside you. (The jackalopes prepare to tan.)

five: the thrower grows and grows and grows, until they must contort creatively to fit inside. ( The jackalopes charge rent. )

six: the room fills with water that nearly reaches the ceiling. (The jackalopes are competitive swimmers.)

seven: everything about your companion irritates you. They even breathe wrong. ( The jackalopes find this awkward. )

eight: The floor slowly expands into quicksand. ( The jackalopes hoverboard. )

■ Roll four and the door creaks merrily open. A second note slips loose, I’m sorry. Head in, your newfound possessions abandoned — and keep U n w i n d i n g.

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✘ SPILL THE TEA

You wake, dressed to the steampunk nines, at a tea party, alongside a companion and a slew of eerie guests: cog droids, faceless people and animated human-sized burlap mannequins. You only hear static and white noise when they speak.

When you leave the table, a fox butler passes you the empty kettle, asking you to, ”Make tea and finish here”.

■ You’re inevitably stuck in a decrepit dollhouse. Heavily boarded doors and windows ultimately open to show plague sickness in the streets. The fox butler closes them, reminding, ”He’ll make it go away.”

■ Travel a corridor of repeating rooms to reach the kitchens, and don’t dally. Every time the clock strikes a new hour, the partygoers grab their sharpest knife and stalk down the house to pursue you. The frenzy lasts 10 minutes before they return to their seats — barricade in deserted rooms, hide behind curtains or climb up the chimney…

■ For tea, the mannequin cook directs you to retrieve juniper and rosemary leaves from the greenhouse, where plant tendrils try to trap you, leaving marks of mould; rescue the milk container from a cat that’s running on the crumbling staircase, and sugar from a dish in the lavish nursery room, where ghostly hands might seek to drag you into walls and send you back down the rabbit hole.

■ Supplied, the huffing burlap cook prepares tea. Just as you’re about to taste the black brew at the party table, a man in white takes and spills your tea out in a plant pot. You only hear, ”You don’t need this yet” — before you’re U n w i n d i ng.

■ On exiting the Unwinding, your pockets burst with plants or leaves of juniper and rosemary. They can alleviate McCoy’s sickness.

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✘ DRIP BY DRIP

You wake up in bloodied clothes in a filled bathtub. You are hounded by urgency, as if you’re hunted. The unease never wanes, as you gather your bearings and join the bustling city streets, armed with a blood-spattered white umbrella. In your pocket, two paper notes: CHILDREN LIE and WHAT IS HIS NAME?(

Your memories are confused: half of you is certain you are a content citizen of Serthica. The other riots that you don’t belong. An excruciating migraine strikes when you try to remember how you arrived here.

Gravity’s a loose concept: you walk, or you float. The city is either perfectly still, or inundated with the screeching of hearses and criers. Locals — all faceless, or man-sized burlap mannequins — mill busily, despite the forlorn rain.

■ Hold on to your umbrella: linger uncovered in the rain, and your facial features slowly fade, while you desperately try to convince your teammate that you should stay here forever. You recover once dry.

■ The inhuman locals grow increasingly more hostile with time: carriages want to run you over, friendly burlap shopkeepers push you into a ditch. They chase if you ask their name.

■ Happily, this world is vulnerable to your desires: wish gravity undone, and you can walk on walls. Think a river into being, and it bursts ahead. Imagine buildings, and they pop up. Playing God comes at a price of bad luck: the staircase you envisage thins and breaks just as you cross it, your knife rusts after the first swing.

■ Your pursuers abandon you, when you reach a deserted marketplace and encounter a drenched, battered boy wearing a fox mask. He is playing with paper boats in the middle of a large black puddle. You feel deep and building hatred for him.

■ Seeing you, the child mentions one of you previously tried to kill him. He offers his name, in exchange for your umbrella:

a. Refuse or dally, and dark hands rise out of the puddle to pull you and your partner in, scratching you bloody. The last thing you see, before you wake up in the bathtub again (or out of the Unwinding), is a man in white who collects your umbrella. He holds it over the child, scolding, ”Did you forget again? This one never hurt you.”

b. To surrender the umbrella, step on the paper boats as you cross the puddle to the boy. Walking straight on water feels like stepping on knives. The child accepts your umbrella, whispering his name is ”Hyang-Won”, before you start to fade out of the Unwinding.

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✘ IT WAS ALL A DREA —

New or old, as the Unwinding ends, you wake up in Ma’am Mariol’s modest orphanage in the Mouse House. Mariol, the orphans and Serthica at large recall nothing about the Unwinding. Karsa, who dragged you in, is pale and exhausted, her memory patchy. She urges everyone to recuperate before heading back overground.

■ Your body shows only a fraction of any damage sustained in the Unwinding.

■ Ma’am Mariol’s labyrinthine home offers limited accommodations: share beds, floors, and household chores, while the orphans led by curious Gavroche, peer in.

NOTES

■ You can make network posts outside of the Unwinding.

■ Feel free to mark if you're a test drive tourist or an old timer in your top level!

■ The Unwinding is a shifting of realities not a dreamscape.

■ You can opt out of the Unwinding by keeping characters in the Mouse House. Here, nothing seems amiss.

■ QUESTIONS!

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[ Waking up on a strange beach is -- well, strange, but after traveling 9 40 years into the future, Michael thinks there's not much that can top her previous experiences.

So she quickly decides to treat this new experience with curiosity, and, of course, with the decorum of a Starfleet Captain. She thanks the strange woman who hands her what looks like a 19th century pocket watch, only to be informed that this is her communicator. ]

Huh. Alright, I'll take it. Thank, you, again... ?

[ The woman introduces herself, and Michael is about to do the same, but the woman has already turned her back. Well. It seems Michael is not the only one in need of her help, so she'll let the woman continue her work.

Soon, they are all briefed on the situation. Michael listens attentively and nods along, taking mental notes, even if it all seems a bit unreal. Michael's seen a lot, but the undead? That's a little out of even her wheelhouse.

Then again, she once died for a few minutes. Maybe she has not so little in common with this world after all.

Upon being ushered onto the train, she is almost excited. This train is old, the likes of which she's only seen in books and holograms. To be riding one should be quite the adventure.

Unfortunately, the ride goes less smoothly than she imagined, as she has to hide in a barrel and is thrown from side to side. ]

Ow! I gotta say, I imagined my first vintage train ride to be a bit more, um... gentle?

[ Not to mention the undeniable smell of bleach that permeates the car and bites her nose, and a crackle of... something. ]

I thought this was a steam train. Why is there electricity?

[Pike's just as confused about, well all of it. He knows enough about the 19th Century thanks to his affinity for The Old West, but none of this seemed like anything that should be happening, not to mention the bleach & the electricity.]

I don't think they were known for being smooth.

[But he does know that voice, the last time he heard it she was telling Discovery to go, "Let's Go". He didn't think he'd ever see her again.]

Michael?

[He tried to hide his surprise, but it's impossible.]

[ That voice. She knows that voice. And this is about the last place she'd thought she'd heard it again, but then, she never expected to be here. ]

Captain Pike?

[ She greets him with a relieved smile. ]

Well, it's good to see a familiar face here, at least! Do you have any idea where we are?

It's really good to see you.

[It's nice to know that she made it, that civilization didn't collapse, that what they did, the sacrifices they made, paid off. Michael was more than captain material in his book, and he hoped she'd get the chance to prove that. She looked good. The future must suit her.

But catching up is for later. Now they needed to figure out where they hell they are.]

Not a clue. Last thing I remember is talking to Number One on The Enterprise, then heading back to my quarters. Now I'm here.

[ And then suddenly, she's Alice. Little Alice from her favorite book, that Amanda read her so often, except turns out Wonderland is not all that wonderful. Oh, Michael is marveling, but she is also trying to avoid the objects threatening to fall on and kill her.

It's... fine. This is like steering a shuttle through an asteroid field. Except she's the shuttle and the asteroid is a Grand Piano that's seen better days.

After an eternity, she unceremoniously lands on the bottom, right on her ass. She grimaces as she stands up; she's been shaken around quite a bit this day, and, well, she's no longer twenty. ]

Well, that was, uh... invigorating.

You've never fallen down a hole before?

( not that this hole and this situation could really compare to any other before but it's an ice breaker. and a question she uses to give her time for the fact that Michael burnham is here. after what they'd done at zero point they had no way of knowing if any of them had survived. it's good to know they have )

Spock'll be happy to see you.

Can't say I have.

[ She's done plenty of other unusual things, but this particular experience is not on her list. Her eyebrows shoot up and her jaw slacks when the strange woman mentions Spock. ]

You know my brother?

[ The book is a delight. The adaptation, not so much. At least, Jim isn't particularly enjoying taking on the role of the main character in this scenario. That said, he's probably had to avoid a lot worse than this— cue flashbacks to jettisoning himself from one stationary ship to another, straight across debris-filled deep space. Compared to that, an old piano is almost easy to deal with.

Anyway, point is he gets to the bottom in one piece, even if with a slight ache on his lower back thanks to the way he lands. He only gets the time to groan and curse before he looks up and sees that piano coming straight down to land... well, exactly where he is.

His eyes widen, then he's rolling over inelegantly, but what matters is that he narrowly avoids getting crushed. He bumps against her, but she'll have to forgive him for that. ]

Not sure that's the word I'd use. Damn.

[ Don't worry, she hardly even notices, given the entire situation. She looks at the stranger who seems to be in this boat with her. ]

It's been a ride. But we seem to have finally reached the bottom. Ow.

[ She is not exempt from the soreness for sure. ]

Yeah. And I think we should get moving before more things reach the bottom too.

[ With that, he gets to his feet, offering her a hand to help her up. ]

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raisedbyvulcans - 2022-10-09 17:40 (UTC) - Expand

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[ There's a guy in a suit seated as far out of the way as humanly possible, knees drawn up and head bowed, his hands clasped over it. Like one of those tornado drills. He looks up when he hears her speak—his eyes are big and momentarily fearful, his face pale. ]

I puked over there. [ This comes in tones of resignation. He licks his lips and points. ] So, uh, I'd steer clear. Unless you find the smell invigorating. [ Is that bitterness? Little bit!

It seems like that's gonna be it, but after several seconds he rallies and adds: ] Alternatively, if you're gonna puke that's a great spot.

[ Oh no. She seems to have landed here with someone who is not used to action. She does grimace a bit when he mentions is puke. ]

I'm sorry. Are you feeling better now?

[ He looks at her a long moment, openly perplexed by the question. Then he laughs, sudden and sharp, trailing off into disconnected wheezing chuckles.

He does, in fact, feel a little better after that.

Moving on. ] Can you— [ Some stupid part of him pipes up: leading. ] What do you see over there? [ He points directly—and with a hint of accusation—at one of the jackalopes. The one who seems the most smug about its pipe-puffing. ]

[ At the tea party, Michael first inspects her outfit and then everything around her. Politely, of course. She tries to ask the droids and the faceless spectres questions, but only gets static back, which disappoints her a little, but also gets the gears in her head turning -- maybe a different type of language, like Species 10-C? That would be an interesting puzzle, at least.

But there's no time, it seems, for a gentlemanly fox tells her to make tea and finish up. Michael's in a mood to play along and, well, making tea won't hurt her. Never mind that she's hardly an expert tea maker, considering she gets all her food and drink from the replicator. But Amanda made tea, once or twice, when she was younger, and Michael can just about manage it.

The dollhouse, then, is more ominous. Michael is contemplating the fox gentleman's words when the clock strikes and suddenly, someone comes at her with a knife. Startled, Michael jumps out of the way on reflex and stares, aghast. But then she is attacked again. Her Suus Mahna training kicks in, and with a few fluid movements, she's able to disarm her opponent, holding onto the knife just in case. ]

Listen, I don't wanna hurt you... !

[ Her voice is so achingly familiar that Spock expects it to be a trick of the mind even as he follows the sound. He rounds the corner to see his sister holding a knife and a mysterious assailant about to charge at her without one and he steps in to deliver a nerve pinch that should crumple them to the ground. ]

I suspect that the sentiment is not returned, Michael.

[ The faceless form crumples at Spock's feet and his own face stays still stony. She might not be real. So much of this place isn't. What is more logical? That the person he most misses is suddenly here despite being impossibly far away or that he is seeing a specter of the person he most misses? ]

[ Michael's eyes widen when the strange man appears before her -- and even more so when he bears a face, a precious face, she thought she'd never see again? ]

Spock?

[ There's not really more she can think to say. Too shocked is she by his appearance -- here, in this deeply strange and dangerous place that seems more like a dream than anything (but a bit too physically painful for a dream). ]

Michael.

[ He takes in her hair and the way she carries herself. She's clearly just as surprised to see him. How much time has passed for her? For him, it's been months and it still hurts. Would that pain lessen with time or grown into the ache of an old scar? ]

I do not hope for things often, but I do hope you are real.

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raisedbyvulcans - 2022-10-09 17:28 (UTC) - Expand

[ This is Clara's second hour, and she's pissed at this point. She's trying to run for a room so she can catch her breath, maybe come up with a plan, but then she slams right into the back of the newly disarmed killer as she rounds a corner. ]

Shite!

[ She tries to get up quickly; with no knife the person isn't as dangerous but they're no less murderous, and Clara has no fighting advantage. She's on her back in seconds, taken by surprise. ]

Watch out!

[ Oh no. Now another stranger is wrapped up in this, clearly a young human woman, and one who seems not trained in combat. Her opponent appears to turn on the newcomer, with murderous intent wafting off of them.

Michael acts fast. She strikes the attacker down with a few swift movements, rendering them unconscious. Then, she turns to the newcomer. ]

Are you all right?

[ In a strange city where the rain won't stop falling, Michael is sure she belongs. Or does she? There's a niggling part of her brain that thinks wait, but it's as if a bolt of lightning zaps through her brain, cutting it off--

As she keeps wandering the streets, though, the feeling that something is off won't leave her. I must get to the bottom of this, she thinks.

It appears her wish is the city's command, for a chasm appears beneath her and she falls. ]

[His brain is already fuzzy from the regeneration so this added layer has him all sorts of confused. This place is home – or no, maybe it isn't – and he walks the streets half recognizing a fixture or feature before realizing that isn't the case at all.

Something, something, something, is wrong with the rain here but he can't tell what. It's not normal and his body is torn between saying to hell with it and ditching his umbrella but his fingers stay staunchly clamped around the handle.

That's when he sees the floor open up under a figure and she's falling. He sprints towards the hole, a clear feeling of needing to help cutting through his haze of confusion. The umbrella falls to the wayside as his arm stretches out over the edge catching the woman's hand with seconds to spare before she plummeted.

Most people would ask if the person hanging in a chasm was okay. But not the Doctor. At least not this incarnation of him.]

Why weren't you watching where you were going?!

[ Michael would be courteous enough to thank him, but, well, he's bringing the attitude. She raises her eyebrows. ]

I wasn't expecting the chasm to open up right beneath me.

[ Finn's sure that this is... wrong. He hates it, though, considering how relieved he was to wake up from the previous nightmare. Now he's in another that's somehow worse, a place where everything's the same but different. Nothing feels right here, nothing feels real.

Well, some things feel real.

Like that woman... and the pit- ]

Hey!

[ He darts forward, managing to grab her wrist and nearly falling in with her. His brace against the ground is questionable, as is the stability of anything around here, but he's not about to let go. ]

Give me your other hand!

[ Luckily, Michael has good reflexes, so she does as she his told and braces herself against the wall of the chasm in turn. ]

Can you pull me up?

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the unwinding

Michael Burnham | Star Trek: Discovery | all new!

BARRELING IN

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DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

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cw: vomit mention

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SPILL THE TEA

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DRIP BY DRIP

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