sand in your eyes

[groundrules]

And onwards, through the cursed desert. The mini-journey Arc covers 6-21 January and doubles as a test drive meme. Participants do not need an invite to apply this round. Have fun!

SAND IN YOUR EYES

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TEST DRIVE TOURISTS | ONE SAND WASHES THE OTHER
A HOUSE UNITED WILL SAND | SOILMATES | A PYRAMID SCHEME

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A SANDING OVATION

Sand in your eyes, down your throat, stifling. You wake half-buried in high dunes, crawling towards helping hands. Thirst vanquishes you.

You are quickly offered a translation and communication pendant and introduced to the leader of the caravan that saved you — good Mazyar, who thanks the stars for your most incredible luck to be rescued by his generous and humble self. For he is not a man for idle praise, but he has sold salt to salt makers, he was courted by seven of the five great trade guilds and brought peace to the Stairs of Sighs…

Mazyar reveals you are in Akhuras, where undead lieges seek to weaponise you in their war for dominion. Mazyar’s good but less successful friend, the elusive Merchant ferries otherworlders east, where ancient beacons can transport them home.

Retire for now and regain your strength. Come morning, further otherworlders will arrive from Serthica — and your journey may begin.

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ONE SAND WASHES THE OTHER

The veteran party reunites with newcomers in the desert, and with the merchant Mazyar — who once guided them through the Stairs of Sighs. His caravan is protected by the Scavengers —deathly a tribe of hardened desert raiders. They bring water flasks, supplies, cooling suits and tents to share. Their snail-like carriage mounts can transport the weak.

You are bound for the seized citadel of Alem, swarmed on each side by undead battalions. To access it, you must obtain one of the enormous sand worms that trawl the deserts, which can be deployed to create underground passageways.

The Scavengers will lead the caravan through haunted dunes, the worms’ traditional hunting grounds and temple-fortress Uruksithar.

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A HOUSE UNITED WILL SAND

The group first reaches the Valley of Unchaining, bordered by high cliffs and fang-like stones. Here and there, discover bloodied footprints, half-buried shackles and red chains. You might even stumble upon an eroded tombstone inscribed, H R SL EP THE UNCH IN D. At its feet are dulled dagger blades and rough calcar stone.

COULD DIE FROM LAUGHTER

You fool, never eat alone. Happen by the camp’s outskirts with your dinner, and you might glimpse the silhouettes of starved desert hyenas, their eyes glistening green. They will come close if you bear raw meat or bleeding wounds.

■ Scavengers say, if you see the hyenas, throw them food or a cloth drenched in fresh blood, then run without looking back until you no longer hear their cruel cries.

■ Some hyenas mimic rasped human voices, begging help or calling your name. One feeble hyena wears a chain of red shackles around its neck.

■ If you look back while chased, you find the green stare of the hyenas fixed upon you. You are gradually overcome by starvation, violence and the urge to dismember prey and feast on raw flesh. Player’s choice on whether characters can resist this compulsion, which disappears at dawns, or if they taste blood.

■ Scavengers will deny you entrance into the camp if you appear possessed in this way.

SANDIMENTAL VALUE

You walk the Valley, Scavengers say, and Mother Death walks with you. A once handsome crone might appear beside you, bare-footed and dressed in clean linens. She remains silent unless spoken to and flinches if you move suddenly, as if she fears being struck.

■ Treat the Crone kindly, and she entrusts you with a small pouch holding a fraction of her ashes, which she wants scattered from the hills.

■ Use rope and climbing hooks and take cover behind stone formations. Beware the violent sand whirlwinds that batter the cliffs, threatening to plunge you down or choke you with sand.

■ If you succeed, the Crone appears to watch her scattering ashes and bless you with good luck for the rest of your journey. Your kindness, she says, reminds her of her daughter.

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SOILMATES

The three-day walk to Uruksithar traverses the sand worms’ hunting grounds, where dunes shift periodically in sharp, tectonic waves. Watch your step and don’t be surprised if your tent sinks at night.

■ The Scavengers organise daily reconnaissance parties in the desert hills. Stay with them to unbury dune treasures.

■ The brave & brazen can try to catch sand worms. The massive creatures erupt overground periodically, catching prey in their large mouths, or crushing it beneath their heft as they plunge in the depths — creating large sinkholes in the process.

■ On its back, each sand worm has a few darker scales that draw the shape of a rune. To tame a sand worm, you must find its rune, then write the symbol on the worm’s back using blood from your hands. Report your catch by 23:59 on 17 January!

■ The sand worm bonds with you for three weeks until the next full moonrise, or until you draw the same rune on your cut hand.

■ Those who secure a sand worm find it grudgingly follows them underground for the rest of the journey. The creature can only be steered or ridden.

■ Some sand worms are vicious, old and sufficiently magical to retaliate by taking the link over and forcing their bonded humans to experience their lives — briefly sensitive to light and strong sounds, or unable to speak. Some might experience mild fevers. All symptoms disappear when the bond breaks.

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A PYRAMID SCHEME

At last, welcome to Uruksithar, former jewel of the desert — now reduced to rusted gates and tattered walls of wind-lashed stone.

The abandoned palace-fortress features a row of minor temples and barren gardens that surround a great, ruinous pit. The state of residential furnishings suggests the grounds were lived mere years prior. Walk north to find a a large pool of thickened black water that exudes a cold, unsettling presence. Veteran party members know what to expect.

Nail scratches on some temple walls read, we, who did not sleep or i ask the wind to grieve our chains. By the pit, a stone plate helpfully says, drop by drop, even base water turns to poison.

The Scavengers disperse to raid the temples, advising you to carry water everywhere. One raider mentions that the local Temple of Ra’esh stores silver waters that can woo sand worms.

OCTOPUS PRIME

Uruksithar’s great gong strikes every two hours, to groans and shudders from the abyssal pit. Scavengers immediately take cover behind walls, bind themselves to columns or rush into crumbling residences.

■ For five minutes, as the gong sounds a pathetic dirge, a bouquet of tentacles erupts from the pit, sweeping nearby streets to capture living things.

■ Throwing water on the tentacles forces them to retreat, while black liquid from the northern pool burns them down. Further tendrils emerge until the gong quiets.

■ Should you fall into the pit, use your climbing hooks to latch onto the walls and don’t look down. A grotesque, sharp-toothed mouth awaits below to devour you, amid the squelching sounds of the tissue and material it has been masticating for decades. It won’t give up its lunch easily.

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TOMB AND GLOOM

Ra’esh the Bright-maker, he who saw but peace beneath the skies. His humble temple is anonymous among numerous worship grounds. Scavengers say, four years ago, a wanderer sculpted an eye with a sun for a pupil on the entrance door. Take a torch and head in.

■ Long-stripped of its glory, the maze-like Temple of Ra’esh is now cold stone, stale window-less corridors and heavy doors that snap down from the ceiling.

■ Distant susurrations of water point you towards your destination.

■ As you walk in, pay attention to the engravings near the entryway of each temple room. Some depict arrows, forecasting spikes will burst up from floors tiles. Sculpted drops hint pouring water in this spot will open a door. Open a door with an engraving of large serpents, and… well. The engravings can help characters navigate the maze and completely avoid its traps. Feel free to make up your own engravings & traps, if you want!

■ The altar room contains a pool with pearlescent waters that surround a woman fully bandaged in gauze, her sight obscured. She is bound to a column with chains and shackles akin to those found in the desert. Rare peeks of her skin show it rotting or sickly pale.

■ She asks either if you are her mother, come for her at last. Do you engage?

■ Take water from the pool, and you can lure a sand worm to you once you have exited Uruksithar. Hazed, but sweet-tempered, it will follow you underground and allow you to ride it for the three weeks until the next full moonrise. These sand worms won’t give you a hard time during the bond period. Report your worm too by 23:59 on 17 January!

NOTES

■ Test driving & in-game characters can top level logs here — test driving characters can also put up network posts in this space c:

■ Feel free to investigate the mystery of the chains and shackles, but no pressure — it’s not critical to Arc V.

■ Hit up NPCs!

■ Navigation top.

QUESTIONS

Comments

Cassian Andor | Star Wars | Andor (5 BBY)

[allforthecause]

[ OOC: Gonna put some thread starters below, feel free to tag and ask for a unique one. ]

Virgin Sands : New Comers

[allforthecause]

He wakes in the sand, coughing up half a lungful of the stuff as if he’d been drowning in it. It tears at his throat and makes his eyes water, but the hot dry air quickly whisks it away.

He doesn’t know where he is, which is an unnerving - if not unique - experience. An arid planet, surely, but when he looks up to take in the star at the centre of the system, it offers no further clarity - a mid range star, yellowish and bright - like a hundred million others throughout the galaxy.

He grunted and picked himself up, glad for the rough scarf around his throat that he could raise up to cover his face from the blistering wind. He pulled away from the hands of his saviours - unsure if that was their true purpose or if they were scavengers - but as he got a better look around and realised he wasn’t alone he started to get a clearer, if no less confusing, picture.

He wasn’t the only foreigner here, and all of them were being pulled out of the sand as if they were trapped there. He had no memory of a wreck or a crash - last thing he remembered was nodding off on Luthen’s ship - but a quick glance around confirmed he didn’t recognize anyone else here. Or the languages they were speaking.

That, at least, was solved quickly enough. Before he really had time to ask (or figure out how to ask) a crystal was shoved into his hand. It was clearly some kind of commlink translation device - even if he’d never seen one built like this - and finally the words started to make sense.

Sort of.

He glanced at one of the other bewildered newcomers, sidling over to them to ask in a quiet voice while their hosts continued to fuss and herd them.

“Did I hear right?” He asked, the Kenari accent thick on his tongue. “Undead Lieges?”

[fixmyjukebox]

"Yeah, you heard the big boys' jingle."

Brass being brass, scarce and scary on the details. Sent their least competent, longest-winded, slick piece of — who the hell is this Mazyar? The God damned accountant?

Not that Jim's unaccustomed to taking his instruction from bureaucrats, but they've learned well'n'good to give soldier boys their orders nice, clean and tight. You don't start running your mouth when the guy with the gun's got a hankering to use it.

No guns here. Hell, not even his infantry armour. Stranded in the desert wasteland loses its silvered touch of sacred novelty the fifth go-around. So the petrified civvies add the mystical, mythical, supernatural twist to their every day's turning. Good dose of terror keeps the population timid, riots constricted, peace inexpensively secured. He gets it. And yet:

"Believe it when I see it." Not today, Satan. ""Don't do stim drugs, don't drink'n'fly, don't meddle with'em dead folk."

Check, check and check. Don't mind if he's busier taking stock of the quality of sand granules in his hand, trying it for the telltale signs of magmatic or otherwise instantly dangerous territory. Then, paranoia appeased, "You found a decent razor loiterin' round?"

Kidnapped and brainwashed or not, the carefully neglected state of his beard doesn't groom itself.

[allforthecause]

He watches his companion testing the sand with no small amount of curiosity, but doesn’t ask after it seems the man is satisfied. His hand raises, touching his freshly shaved jaw - though he always somehow managed to have a clean shave look three days old - and shook his head.

“Sorry friend, took care of this at home. If I see one, I’ll tell you.”

He pats himself down as if looking for something and grimaces when he realizes he doesn’t have his blaster on him.

“Looks like I made it here with the clothes on my back and not much else. You?”

[fixmyjukebox]

"That'n'a long prayer on a day of fasting." Not that ole Jimmy's one for preachers and churching, but there his stomach goes, twisting and knotting and growling like a mother o' zerglings. Crawling the desert lands builds up a mean appetite.

He's got the teeth to show he's a predator incarnate. Grins out, and lets the sand course and settle and be, like the world coming to the conclusion of a fast exhalation. Sure, man. Element of surprise. That's what took'em here.

"Beggin' your pardon to crush whatever good opinion you might have had early." You know, of the tall, dark, dubiously handsome but decisively gnarly man battling middle age, sheer disdain for rank and the longevity of his liver with equal efficiency. "I was for the officers' mess. Long day."

And it ain't getting shorter with the sun scratching their eyes. "You?"

Mazyar’s Caravan - Veterans

[allforthecause]

He’s thankful for the food when it’s given to him - not even caring whether the taste is good or bad - he’s had worse. He’s quiet, polite, watchful - trying to take in as much as he can about his surroundings as possible.

The people here seem cut off from the rest of the galaxy, and he suspects there is little luck of finding a ship to take him off planet without help. Whatever the ‘beacons’ are, the technology to travel to other worlds seems limited to them, and seems far more advanced than the other tech they have here.

He takes one of the cooling suits gratefully - not that he hasn’t had his share of warm climates, but there’s a difference between warmth and the dry heat that’s taking all the moisture from his skin.

He carefully strips out of his clothes, making sure to pull anything necessary out of his outerwear and replace it as close to his skin as he could as he pulled on the suit. Once he figured out the safest way to keep them he would shift tack again, but for now a little discomfort as worth knowing that the few things he still had on him wouldn’t ‘accidentally’ disappear. That said, the suits were still surprisingly tight, and he was forced to sheepishly approach the nearest onlooker.

“A little help?” Gesturing to the near skin-tight closure up his spine that he couldn’t reach to do up. “My flexibility’s not what it used to be.”

[downswing]

Fresh skins like thin gossamer, membranous. Silks strewn to cut the sun's bite would have hardly teased its teeth. Instead, these trinkets of tight-spun cloth, passed from hand to hand and lingered in Lan Wangji's grasp, as if they might bloody his fingertips.

The caravan's light, blinding. A cacophony of dark, scratched sound. The animals of burden, the men weighed down by hardship as if they were born cleaved into the world to no kindness. Sand drifted into ghostly pallor, thickened and matte beneath his step, from the cast of perspiration they leave in their wake.

Another indignity, the cooling suits. He yet carries his own, when the man approaches — a fresh face, kept sane by confusion. Survival is a game of thieves, even in alliances: they steal each other's hope.

At first, he says nothing, words dry and dusted in his mouth. Weighted. Cloying, as everything feels here. Then, carefully, "You think it wise to wear their skins."

With no knowledge of their methods, their madness, their routines. Their weaknesses. Trusting blindly in the arsenal supplied to them. They have walked down this path before.

[allforthecause]

“You think it not?” Cassian replied, an eyebrow arching with the question, though he didn’t pause as he pulled the skin-tight gloves flush with his fingers.

“Have you spent much time in the desert, friend? I know well enough what I was wearing would dry me out - plenty of species wear suits similar to these.”

He did pause, though, leaning back to fully take in the sight of his companion. Many delicate layers, painstakingly white - for all that could be kept so in a desert such as this. Long hair - not a completely uncommon custom but unique enough in Empire to make a statement. And a- huh. A scabbard. Looked like it housed a thin, delicate weapon, but Cassian had not seen anything quite like it.

His eyes refocused on the man’s face and he smile, a little lopsided and unsure.

“Is there something I don’t know? I just got here.”

[kahl_175]

Kahl can't wear the suits like the others do. His augments would get caught on the clothes. But once he gets a look inside them, he knows what to do.

here's bits inside the suit that help keep you cool. Like Aridkref armor. So once he's got a shaded place to sit, he pulls the cooling stuff apart, and starts attaching it to the inside of his uniform.

He's taken off his armor for now, and the top half of his uniform. There's a lot of scars and spots on his skin, all over heavy muscle. Grineer are built strong, even though their hands and feet don't work good enough to keep them.

He looks up when a new guy approaches on his blind side. "Kahl got you," he rumbles, standing up to come help. "Have suit trouble too."

[allforthecause]

Cassian doesn't even do a double take at the sight of the Grineer. Though he has never met one, he's well used to alien species in all their forms, and simply assumes that this is one that he hasn't met yet - though 'Kahl' as he named himself still looked incredibly close to human. Maybe he was, and disease or deformation had taken its toll?

Either way, it didn't matter to Cassian, except to note to himself that the man was unlikely to be an Imperial Sympathizer.

Anyone who didn't look like the ideal human certainly didn't receive sympathy in return.

"Thanks, Friend," He replied, ducking down a little to make it easier for Kahl to reach. "You're having trouble, too? Looks like you've got half of it taken apart."

[makemeasong]

Clara's grateful for the suit and secretly, she feels like a character in a book. Everything about navigating this planet has felt, in part, like being in a frenetically paced fiction novel; sometimes it isn't so bad, and there are even good moments. But the heat of the desert after such a nice time enjoying winter isn't inspiring confidence—even if she tries to keep it up.

Her face is still visible, the portion of the suit that goes around her head and protects her face not on yet. As a result, when she looks at the individual requesting help, one dimple is visible when she smiles in understanding.

"If you can bend down a touch, mate?" Her own accent is Blackpool and very improper. "You definitely have some height on me." She's small but ready to help.

[allforthecause]

He smiles, a little sideways, more amused than anything, and takes to a knee. Her accent would almost mark her from the Inner Rim, if it wasn't quite so broad - he can't place it immediately.

"Of course," He replies, ducking down onto one knee so he's looking up at her instead. She wears the suit but she doesn't share the same mannerisms as the locals - she doesn't look like she was born wearing it, but rather like she was wearing a costume. He imagines he'll look the same, once he's fully strapped in.

"Better?" He asked, his lopsided smile making his eyes crinkle. He's not exactly happy - one couldn't claim to be so after been stranded who even knew where - but he's not upset, either, and he's long learned how to smile even when his mind is racing behind the scenes.

"Is it just me who's had trouble?" He asks, nodding to her own suit. "You look like you strapped in easy enough." He's made a few assumptions about her already - may as well test to see if they're true.

[fushichou]

Meanwhile, Kanesada feels miserable. The heat itself is...whatever. He's been to Kyoto in the summer and dealt with those kinds of sweltering temperatures, but that's entirely different from a desert. Not that he has experience with deserts, but he knows some basic things. Like you're supposed to wear clothes to protect yourself from the elements.

Hence why he's gone the more traditional look by wrapping himself in fabrics, at least for the most part. His long, dark hair is unbound at the moment, as if he's not quite sure what to do with all of it. But! Hopefully his friend here - because he has Licyn's face so, naturally, he must be Licyn - can help with that. Scratch your back if you scratch mine, or whatever humans say.

"Yeah, yeah, I got ya." Though, now that he's closer to 'Licyn' Kanesada feels like something is a little bit off, though he can't quite put his finger on it. Is it his friend's appearance? Huh...

Either way, he said he'd help out, so he does just that, nimble fingers closing up what can't be reached. "All right, your turn. You any good with hair? I'm not really sure how to get mine all tucked away so I don't get sand everywhere." And the thought of sitting down somewhere combing out sand from his hair for hours honestly sounds like one of the worst things in the entire world.

[allforthecause]

“Sure, used to help my sister with it.” The Kenari accent is thick - even thicker when he speaks of his sister - and he fights down the twinge of guilt and longing that always arises whenever she comes into his thoughts.

“We can braid it up, then wrap the raid in cloth to keep it around your head?” He offers, gesturing with his hands as if to demonstrate the technique.

This seems like a Perfectly Normal Exchange With A Stranger to him.

[scrapgege]

"Oh! Sure!"

Xie Lian sets aside his own food, something indescribable that anyone with a bit of observation skills may have noticed everyone else in the caravan is staying well clear off. Even earlier, when he was cooking, he did it well away from anyone else and clearly making only one portion. And when he puts it down, he sorts of covers it so that no one will try to eat it before he approaches.

He's not wearing any of the newish suits people have brought, just his usual tattered white robes, but his bamboo hat is fixed firmly on his head, the veil affixed to its edge helping to dispel the worst of the sand.

And even though the face is familiar, the qi is different, plus it's at least the third time this happens in their little group, people with the same face showing up, so he feels confident in saying : ]

You're one of the new people. I'd say you've caught us at a bad time, but honestly there hasn't really been a good time since we got here.

[allforthecause]

“Seems like an okay time to me,” he offers helpfully, turning his back to his new companion to give him access to the endless buckles and straps and laces.

“People willing to pluck you out of the sand, offer you food and water and the clothes of their backs - that seems more decent than most, no?”

Network

[allforthecause]

un: bee

Well, it’s been an eventful journey, I give you that. And I’m sure I’m going to bore you with my next few questions, but you’ll forgive me for seeking out brothers in the unknown.

My good friend Kahl’s explained the universes to me - as well as one might explain them, anyway. So I’m here to see if anyone might be from mine, or if any one’s come through that has been.

I’m from Morlana One, in the free trade sector, but I’ve done work all around the galaxy. Since it sounds like time is as unstable as place, I’ll give that one too - 7972, by Coruscant reckoning.

Don’t worry, not affiliated with anyone beyond a warm meal in my stomach and a safe dry place to lay my head at night. So don’t be shy.

un: tin soldier; text;

[hatejakku]

[ It takes him a second of blinking, reading through one more time, before finally responding. ]

If I'm right, I think I'm from about 30 years into your future. Never been to Morlana One, though.

[ He has several questions and they're all invasive, so- ]

I'm Finn.

[allforthecause]

[ Cassian took a long time to look at the words, taking them in. He’d gone fishing without actually expecting a catch, and now that he found one he didn’t know what to do with it. There was a long pause before he replied. ]

It’s good to meet you, Finn.

Can’t say that you’ve missed much.

But you’re a welcome sight, regardless.

[ Thirty years. He has a hundred million questions, all of them invasive, and he doesn’t want to ask them over a communication device he doesn’t control. ]

Maybe I should get you to read my future?

Come find me. I’ve found a particularly dry wine that they make here in the desert. I’ll share it with you.

[ What he doesn’t share, clearly, is a name. The username has him a little on edge, but it’s easier to assess a man when you can see his face. ]

Network

[saintclaire]

un: manic marbles

Not your universe, unless Earth is an uncontacted people to you.

What do you do for work that has you traveling across the galaxy?

[allforthecause]

If they’re uncontacted, at that point I’m not sure it makes a difference. At least not until we go home and find each other again.

Oh, little bit of this, little bit of that. I work salvage, mostly, and I pilot. Help find where the scrap is and drag it home for everyone to take apart.

[growlies]

...holy fuck, 7972?

That's the highest year I've ever heard of. Not that it means much with all of us being from different worlds and times and all that.

You travel the galaxy? Cause that's really cool. Also, uh, welcome. I've been here awhile so I guess I can answer any more questions you might have.

[allforthecause]

A year is only as good as the calendar you count from, yeah? So it depends based on what you’re counting.

But the galaxy has been around a while, it’s true.

Well, you’ve travelled universes now, so you aren’t doing so bad yourself. I have a lot of questions but no idea where to even start.

Why don’t you tell me about when you got here?

un: owllady

[traaaaaash]

ohhh another space guy! we got a bunch of those here

[allforthecause]

Space guy?

What’s this a monicker for?