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

[blackscales]

[ Mildly, with a faint twitch of a smile: ]

No.

[ He hasn't met an albino before, actually. They probably exist on Azeroth, but he's never had the pleasure. ]

Why don't you explain this... affliction of yours? There does appear to be quite a lot of sun, here.

[ Being allergic to it seems likely to be an issue. Not a lot of shade, save for this pokey little vehicle. ]

[speechy]

( even if he had, spike is a lying liar who lies and no amount of soul is going to keep him from self-preservation in the most minor of circumstances. no one else is being jeopardized as they speak, it might be different if they were. but, as it stands, he is the singular person to burst into flames. )

Does it need explaining? You saw with your own eyes. I bask in too much of it and it's rocket's red glare for me, so aptly put by... well, not your people, I suspect.

What are you asking me, specifically? Hm? Get to it.

[blackscales]

[ He lofts an eyebrow at that. ]

Should I be asking someone else about your allergies?

[ That seems a peculiar thing to do. ]

You seem best placed to describe it, I've seen no-one else here with your specific condition.

[speechy]

Right, then. Capital V, lowercase ampire. Familiar with the affliction?

( he doesn't necessarily puff his chest out. the 'with a soul' is a trademark, but not the sentence stopper that angelus thinks it to be. he has more merit than a sentence as a placeholder, namely his personality. his values. he isn't cursed, for one thing. )

What's with the eyes?

[blackscales]

Vampyr?

[ The slight tilt of his head, the narrowing of his eyes is the manner of someone thinking. It isn't an instant negative reaction, at least. ]

A member of the San'layn?

[ He doesn't look like an elf, but truly who can judge these days. Elves come in many forms. Maybe he's a half-elf. Maybe things just work differently where this man is from. Still, Wrathion supposes the counter-question is justified. He considers this, flickers a faint smile. ]

The eyes are an indication of my natural talents.

[ True, on a technicality. All dragons tend to have naturally glowing eyes, as do many elves. He gestures with one hand, allowing a flame to summon into it, then wink out.

This is also a natural talent. Very technically, none of this is a lie. He did not explicitly say the flame was his only natural talent. ]

[speechy]

Yeah, ( he drones, waiting for the other shoe to drop. given that the man himself does have an air of the supernatural about him, he supposes it isn't all that flabbergasting that he's somewhat familiar with his kind. somewhat being the keyword. spike squints at him like he can decipher the words coming out of his mouth if he stares for long enough. turns out he can't.

the medallion didn't come with a cheat sheet for whatever's going on in other people's heads. tragic, that. )

We're not exactly the member-y types. No pins or badges to speak of. ( some people—some people being him in his sordid history—have minions but those are temporary alliances. vampires are solitary. ) So, not in the San - whatever you called it club, no.

( he leans back when the flame appears in the stranger's hand; not a recoil so much as a safety precaution. )

Didn't see that one coming. Probably should have. What with the . . . ( he gestures indescribably, somewhere near the face vicinity. ) And the being here. Don't imagine they'd have much use for the boring sort. You're a warlock, then?

[blackscales]

[ Interesting.

Some kind of vampyr, not part of the san'layn, and apparently liable to have a poor reaction to sunlight. Well, it takes all sorts. ]

Not exactly, I have no particular affection for demons.

[ Which the warlocks of Azeroth are all decidedly involved in. Still, moving on to topics that are not about him which is the worst topic. Everyone should, clearly, tell them everything about themselves without ever asking questions. That's just the rules! He doesn't make the rules! ]

As to the matter of our use, I'm still not certain of the... particulars of why each of us are drawn here. It doesn't appear to be based on sets of skills, from the outside. It could well be random. Some have even escaped and been drawn back, some have managed to leave and so far not returned.

[speechy]

They’re not all bad. Sometimes the slime is worse than the bite. And make no mistake, the slime is the foulest smell you’ve ever had the displeasure of getting a waft of. Right up there with sewage processing.

( in the grand scheme of it all, he can’t say he’s overly endeared to demons either. he’s known a few interesting ones well enough to call them friends. and the ex-demons aren’t so insufferable, he’s found. though the lesson here is that demons for them are separate kinds of beings altogether. witches and warlocks are generally more human than not.

if he’s ruffled by not having the same honesty in exchange, spike doesn’t show it. sooner or later, the truth comes out. that’s the way of people. )

Everybody likes a lottery. ( he muses, not absorbing any solace from the theory. ) You think it’s karmic at all? Names outta a hat, but some have a higher chance of being thrown back in?

[blackscales]

[ Wrathion lofts an eyebrow mildly at the slime remarks, but otherwise seems unphased. Karmic, though? Names out of a hat? ]

I'm not certain we know enough to say.

[ Though, privately, Wrathion suspects it's all simply chaos -- no favouritism or order, just the general randomness of out of control magic. ]

Perhaps we can test your luck at the next beacon we discover, if you desire to return home. Some people do seem to settle here comfortably enough.

[ Presumably, people who have particularly uncomfortable home worlds might find this place is better.

He isn't certain he can imagine what kind of world would be worse, but then again perhaps escaping a reputation might name this place an improvement too. ]