westwhere | sand in your eyes

sand in your eyes

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

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

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[Everyone is hot and miserable, but the girl Wanda spots seems to grab her attention. Perhaps she looks especially miserable to her eyes, or maybe it's because of the crone beside her, but Wanda approaches with a flask of water.]

Here, [She offers it to the both of them, whichever might reach for it first,] some water.

( Wednesday turns her head, watching Wanda offer the flask; she doesn't move to take it, eyes shifting to the old woman, waiting for her to move first. She doesn't claim it as any particular act, but it is sensible enough, in her opinion. She's slight, but sturdy; healthy and young, and the sweat and misery of this walk, clothed in layers that help but don't disguise the stark nature of the desert landscape, is pleasantly miserable.

It lets her stew with her thoughts spinning at her own lack of control over the larger situation, and her own extreme control of what's directly on hand.

Which is why she accepts the water from the old woman, who hands her the flask after, with eyes that are too flat, too watching, to match the rest of her face. Or are they? She doesn't blink, and the expression is still fleeting. She stares at the old woman a beat longer, then turns her attention to Wanda, lifting the flask as if in toast. )

Thank you.

( As if startled, the crone, too pretty to really be a proper hag, no matter her wrinkles, jerks shoulders back and blinks, but still doesn't speak. After the measured swallows of water, Wednesday caps off the flask and holds it back out, the motion too fast for the crone, who flinches away. Without turning her head, she cuts her eyes back to the older woman. )

You move like you expect violence. From whom?

[A strange pair, the girl and the crone, watching the latter take the flask. When it's passed over, and the crone flinches, Wanda frowns at the sight.]

We won't hurt you.

[Not her, at least. The girl looks--harmless, she thinks, but she knows better than most that looks can be deceiving. Her eyes linger on her, as if trying to assess properly, before continuing to speak to the old woman.]

We just want to pass through this desert as soon as possible.

( The barefoot crone looks between them both, her pristine robes fluttering in the harsh, dry winds that swirl past even now. She licks her lips, less parched than a moment prior, and looks to Wednesday. The one who asked a question, and the one to whom she replies, at least at first. )

Not everyone is kind to a stranger, kind to a woman, kind at all.

( Wednesday responds, swift and dry: )

The world isn't kind, the universe isn't kind. Kindness is a choice, not a condition.

( To which the crone responds, not demure, but quiet: )

So what do you choose?

( Wednesday looks away at that, holding her silence in the face of not wanting to question what practicality crosses over with kinder choices, over the cruelest ones. She doesn't often see the differences. The crone redirects her gaze to Wanda, holding out both hands again for the water flask. )

I'm but one woman. How would I stop you? How would you stop all other harms? There's no need for promises, but kindnesses, there's always room for those.

[What rays of sunshine. Maybe Wanda's finally found her people. Young and old, both are rather blunt, and Wanda finds some humor in the fact that they'd seemingly been walking in silence before she approached.

She can't really find any flaw in what either of them say, unfortunately. She does hand the flask back to her, without hesitation.]

Some people make it their business to stop harm and be kind. You can only do what you can do.

[Attempts are better than nothing. Even superheroes can't save everyone, protect everyone. Sometimes all you can do is share your water and hope for the best.]

( The crone smiles beatifically, taking the flask and sipping from it, hands steadying out. )

The doing which may be neither deliberately kind or cruel.

( Wednesday notes, looking straight ahead, body language closed off. It's not different from her usual lack of open body language, but there's nothing defensive in her posture either, simply an apartness. She turns her face enough to see both women again, lifting her brow. )

What are you expecting from us, beyond violence?

( The crone swallows, twice, recapping the flask and handing it to Wanda once more. Her smile is all for Wanda now, and a small shake of her head. )

Not expecting, no. Requesting, to ears that will listen.

( Here she pauses, looking sedately between the young woman and the young woman, albeit older than the first. They're all so young, in her eyes. )

[Apartness is no stranger to Wanda. She doesn't think much of it, attention on the crone, crease in her brow deepening even as she slowly reaches to take the flask back.]

Requesting what, exactly?

[It's safe to say she and this new little shadow that's join the group have nothing but the time to listen, at the very least.]

( Wednesday listens, continuing to not interject. The fairytale aspect of this isn't lost on her, what, being in this world and with an older woman asking for favours without quite asking.

wary, she doesn't bother pretending she isn't watching the crone more than Wanda. one she expects things from. the other one she expects only what's already happened. )

Help.

( says the crone, and that's the simplicity of it. she smiles, tremulous. reaches into the folds of her dress to tug the leather string and the pouch that dangles from it out, made visible. she pulls it over her head, hair sliding out of its loop like a last gasp of a hung man. )

To climb the hills here, and spread the remnants of me from their crowns.

( at that, Wednesday's eyebrows creep upward. )

Will you curse us if we don't? If we do?

( the crone blinks, giving Wednesday a bemused sort of look. )

Why in the world would I?

The remnants of you?

[Wanda echoes, but given what she's heard here and there of things the travelers have encountered (nevermind the ghosts--) she supposes no, this isn't outside the realm of possibility.

Hesitantly, she holds out her hand for the pouch.

Jimmy had said something about ghosts and their requests, hand't he?

Her gaze flicks over to Wednesday.]

Busy? I'm not.

[And she maybe has a soft spot for final wishes. She robbed a lot of people of theirs.]

( While there isn't apparently a curse coming, for better or worse, this is...

... the dead here are as bothersome as the living, conclusively. She's been here less than a week, and that's self evident. The crone places the pouch in Wanda's hand. )

I'd be inclined to ask what we get out of doing errands for the dead, but I've yet to find them any more transparent about it than the living with an agenda.

( It's not a yes, not a no, and so she gives the crone a final look. )

Assessing how blindly people will perform acts of 'kindness' for your remains is an admirable manipulation tactic. Clearly, it's worked at least some of the time. That's very little ash to be taking anywhere compared to the whole of a human body.

( Which is her ending comment, looking then to Wanda and inclining her head, before... starting off, up the hill. Since she's not carrying ash, she's doing this for herself. Perspective on the immediate vicinity, a chance to see if the crone is appearing in multiple places at once, a way of avoiding having the crone fall back into silent wandering at her side if she ignored the whole thing.

Or, she admits, the sense that now is a good time for a change in points of view on the landscape, with a willing person along for reasons she didn't have to bother convincing anyone about. Convenient. )

Her request worked on you. Do the dead often ask you to lay them to rest? Or is that today's burning pleasure to stave off the endless desert march?

[Wanda's surprised the criticisms end with the girl starting off up the hill. She gives the crone a nod before following Wednesday, ashes and all.]

You don't seem very impressed by her, and yet here you are. [Just saying.] I don't have anything better to do. It's not every day I'm asked to scatter someone's ashes, no. Might as well.

[Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, etc.]

( This is why cats are nuisances. Scorpions and spiders are much more respectably about their own business without a particular concern for anyone else's, and just as much of a hunting instinct.

For insects. )

There's a chance she'd keep talking if I stayed. Right now, your task dovetails with my own, getting an eye on the region. I'd like to see if anything suitably horrifying is lurking further down the way.

( Things feel like they should, with the tombstones and the rusted chains and everything up to this point, including the ghost? Corpse. The lazy one. )

You really believe there won't be any curse for spreading her ashes?

( Sounding... mildly curious, but looking askance, as if coming to her own conclusions. )

Doing the work of the dead is rarely as straightforward as it seems. They're masterfully manipulative. Which is impressive, given how manipulative the living are.

I think the curse would be more likely to come from not spreading her ashes.

[Which is why Wanda is trudging up this hill, inviting sand to get into whatever nooks and crannies it has yet to discover. She could use magic to make this easier, but she's hesitant around the newcomers, and chooses to simply tough it out for now.]

What's your name? You're not frightened.

[The sort of lukewarm indifference that Wanda feels, for the most part.]

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