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

licyn mansbane | original | veteran

[bravelyrunsaway]

Welcome to how I offer personal starters for all those who wish to tag in! Select a number from below and either reply to this comment with that number in subject line and comment blank, or wildcard us a starter!

1. Licyn oiling his sword at night when the winds are calm for a moment.


2. Licyn as a wolf rescuing you from one of the hyenas... incidentally.


3. Be swept off feet by a tentacle and sent tumbling toward the Abyss with Licyn!


4. Wildcard! He is not acting the hero this trip, let us use that to personal amusement.

2

[allforthecause]

[ Hello, familiar face! Feel free to decide how much these two look alike - I’ll run with whatever works for you. ]

[bravelyrunsaway]

( hello his handsome self! let's go for full face match in a way that licyn will find both eerie and hot (i'm sorry ahead of time), but licyn will be notably at least three, four inches shorter than him, if cassian's about diego luna's actual height. )

( The wolf is large, to those who know of wolves; a few of the caravan have come to recognise him, when Licyn dallies near the Doctor, near Clara, even nosing after Five, albeit perhaps not without telling any of them. (Excepting the Doctor, who can hear Licyn mind to mind, as if he were a shifter true.) Licyn finds the heat isn't easier to handle so much in fur, but he can pace himself, and he doesn't wish to tangle with the wrong of the hyenas in his human form.

Fewer questions for why he responds as swiftly to the scent of blood and meat as the hyenas do, with him trotting up, ears perked forward, tail held low and neutral, no hint of doggish body language when he lifts his nose and inhales, long, eyes squinting before he darts forward. He nudges aside the man with a very vaguely familiar scent—one of the new folk, but no strict impression to him otherwise, when he's been staying more wolf than human during the evening fires.

No, instead, he lowers his head and lets out a low, rumbling growl of warning, looking past the person he's left at his side, out of arms reach of himself. The green eyes of the hyena track them both, swinging on a thick neck with a broad, flat head between regarding the wolf large enough to have the weight of an adult man, and the adult man nearby. There's a pleading sound, what might be words, and Licyn growls louder, hackles raising.

Times like these he wishes he could speak in wolf form, but sear it, asking after what isn't has done nothing but led better people than he to resent circumstances outside their control. Run. That's all he wants this fool to do, before he turns feral on the rest of the caravan, or the desert folk drive him back away because they fear what he might do. )

[allforthecause]

[ Cassian hadn’t even noticed the hyena at first. He’d wandered out onto the sand a little way from the caravan, wrapped up in their strange second skin save for his head. His hand sported a couple scratches he’d earned himself from trying his hand at helping with the caravan, and his knuckles were red and carried the faint scent of blood.

He was gazing up at the sky as he walked, trying to mark his path through unfamiliar stars, hoping against hope that he might recognize the formation of some. But no. The sky was as foreign as the native tongue, and the small hope he had harboured was dashed.

It was the wolf he noticed first, silent until suddenly it was beside him, the low growl menacing and rumbling through his bones. He froze, but noticed the creature wasn’t looking at him but past him, and he slowly turned to see where it’s focus was locked.

If the wolf was intimidating in its own right, there was no mistaking the hunger in those green eyes locked on him from a dozen feet away.

He slowly raised his hands - offering a silent surrender, or appeasement, as he began to back away. Sideways, to avoid them both. Maybe if they fought they would forget he was here?

But he couldn’t quite pull his gaze away from those bright green eyes, and he could have sworn it almost said his name—

He gave a sudden grunt of pain as his stomach twisted, knotting on itself as if suddenly empty. As if he’d never been hungrier—- ]

[bravelyrunsaway]

( Licyn's right ear swivels back, hearing the sound from the man behind him. The hyena makes that sound which isn't laughter, but enough like it, green eyes less colourful in Licyn's current gaze, but still arresting, if he were of a mind to be arrested by any eyes but a lover's.

He isn't, but he does know what the warnings are, and swings himself around to shove into the thighs of the new member of their ragtag traveling group. He has to be, he smells wrong for the merchants and their snails, doesn't react or respond to the danger like he knows the Scavengers do. Which means the longer he's out here, the greater danger he is to himself and to Licyn.

One of those two facts matters more to Licyn. He'd fight anyone he had to, if he had to, but at this point he'd rather run away, not deal with possessed hyenas risen from what? Who knows, the souls of those who've died here before, that's his feeling regardless of it ever being factually proven.

Which is why now, he attempts to physically butt and herd the taller man away, hearing the hyena laughing, laughing, laughing as he does. If it speaks, he ignores it; he doesn't want to accept its words anyway. Let's go! )

[allforthecause]

[ He scrambles backwards, stumbling, as he swears the beast tries to go for his legs - but finds that it’s forehead not teeth that push against him.

The second time the animal lunges toward him, he loses his balance and tumbles into the sand, immediately throwing his arms up to shield his face in case it was just waiting to get at the weaker flesh of his throat.

But the teeth don’t come and instead he feels like the creature is coming at him with purpose and intent, and when he glances up he notices that it’s now between him and the fierce green-eyed stare of the creature beyond.

So he takes the message and starts shuffling backwards in the sand until he can find purchase and stand again, trying to put as much distance between those eyes and himself as possible.

But he only gets a few feet before he doubles over in pain, clutching his stomach as it attempts to devour him from the inside in its aching hunger. He groans and tries to keep moving, but it’s clear that whatever is happening to him is quickly stripping him of the ability to escape on his own. ]

[bravelyrunsaway]

( He has practise, he tells himself, as he snaps his jaws once in the direction of the staring, laughing hyena that is nothing close to a natural creature, not like this. He turns sharp, trotting after the man now clutching at his stomach, guarding it so fiercely he near comes into a standing fetal position.

An understandable mood, love, but not helpful.

For a heartbeat before his mouth opens again, Licyn considers leaving this man to his fate. The Scavengers won't let them into camp if he's this obviously sickened, cursed, and so what if it passes with the dawn? He growls, a low rumble as his mouth opens anyway, teeth snagging at a sleeve, or trousers, or anything that can allow him to bully this man along. Tugging, leading, practised already, that practise he's had, in a city behind them, leading those coughing up the blood of their infection to the fires that cleansed them through magic.

Magic burning of paper.

He hates it so.

The fur along his spine stands half up, his ruff larger in the moment, the hyena laughing and laughing until it sounds like a man crying through his hysteria. Licyn pulls and tugs and tries to drag the man on, ignoring how his fur stands further on end, how his ears flick forward and back and then flatten against his skull, the smells of blood and madness and dry death cloying in his nose. )

3

[rumorate]

[Because it's not Allison if it isn't dramatic!]

[bravelyrunsaway]

( The gong strikes, tolling across the broken temples and blasted landscape, sand swept cleanly away. Licyn pauses, brow furrowing as he hears a slithering, is it a slithering? When the bells toll, or the gong, or whatever it was called: the ground beneath them shakes, and he braces, arms flying out to help keep him steady and offer Allison one more surface to grab on to if she's inclined.

It's not immediately his intention, but it's functionally present nonetheless. )

What lightning struck nonsense is this?!

( See, if it were the quakes alone, and the sound echoing across the ruins surrounding the pit he refuses to go near, that would be bad enough. He's moving away, back to the outskirts in intention, when the next worse thing shoots up from the centre of the pit, like earthworms wriggling out of a drowning puddle. Sand and flesh toned, the sun shines askew to cut their shadows away from Licyn and Allison, as one thick, fat appendage strikes out at them, sweeping the ground and the lesser blocks of stone aside as so many leaves before a windstorm.

Licyn takes the hit in the thigh, tumbling into a roll as the tentacle passes over, granting a moments respite while he claws for a hold in the sands and stone, rapidly sliding away from him toward the pit. His wild glance to assess the situation sees he's not the only one in this situation: far to their left, one of the Scavengers words to free themselves from the tentacle's flow, unlucky perhaps in their hiding place. More immediately, Allison, and a tentacle rising, coming back for a second, scooping sweep. )

Roll left! Left!

( Running will take too long. Licyn rolls left, hoping she does too, or at least finds her own angle to escape the incoming tentacle's plans. )

[rumorate]

[Allison follows instructions, rolling to the side as the tentacle comes down in the space where she used to be.]

Shit.

[One hand goes to the blade in her boot, but it's a toothpick in comparison. She's not going to do much damage with that, nor is she looking to destroy Eleven's handywork. She needs to get out of the range of it.]

Keep moving!

[bravelyrunsaway]

( He darts to the side, then makes a near vertical leap as the tentacle sweeps past, lower this time, intent to find whatever it might in the area. His hand touches its surface as he comes back down, hitting the ground in a crouch and running toward Allison.

The tentacle whips back around their way, smacking into the ground with immense force. Enough that the unsteady footing has him stumbling and crashing to hands and knees, sword scabbard cracking against the ground in the process, worn as it is outside of his borrowed desert layers. )

Storm it!

( He scrambles forward, managing to turn and catch the tentacle as it sweeps into him, a glancing blow that still sends him rolling her way. )

[rumorate]

[Allison braces herself as he slides into her, using her presence to slow his momentum, even as his weight hits her. They only manage to lose an inch or two before Allison is pulling him by his shoulders to get to his feet.]

Your sword looks better than mine. If I try and distract it, can you focus on doing damage to it?

[Because Allison far too easily slips into superhero mode, even if she should be running away.]

[bravelyrunsaway]

( He's on his feet, sword already at the ready. A sideglance to Allison, and he quirks his lips, his eyes set and serious. )

Doesn't have eyes, love, don't think it has ears either. We need to get out of range.

( Tentacle, indeed without finer senses, slams down on the ground nearby for another sweep. )

1

[saintclaire]

[Have a lawyer who is not an outdoorsy type at all.]

[bravelyrunsaway]

What do you make of the stew, love?

( Licyn asks, directing his question to the woman sitting by the fireside who looked as uncomfortable with this traveling caravan's situation from day one to day whatever they were on. He smiles, shaking his polishing rag out just in case sand has snuck into it, knowing that sand has a way of finding avenues into everything it shouldn't, and then some. )

Tasted minimal sand in it tonight. My gratitude for the chef!

( In this case, one of the merchant's caravan, who grunts and flicks fingers his way, having caught the wink Licyn paired with his thanks. Flirtation and honesty, hand in hand as much as they might choose to be. )

[saintclaire]

[Kim purses her lips, pondering how honest one can be when their survival depends on these shepherds. Her resulting smile is tight. No matter how grateful one must be, she can only imagine the damage to the enamel on her teeth.]

Glad I'm an adventurous eater. It's not bad, grittiness aside.

[Her gaze roves over the blade.]

Where are you, usually, that you carry something like that?

[bravelyrunsaway]

( He lifts a brow, canting his head to the side. )

Paid and guarding interests for myself and whatever client I'm on contract with. You're not asking for a picture of my part of my world, are you? Mercenary work is predictable if you're in bad company, which I avoid studiously. Very good at studies, I am. Never seen an academy for learning, and still.

( He flashes her a smile. )

This is the worst road I've been set down, and the least of it is not getting paid for bearing with any of its nonsense.

[saintclaire]

I don't think anyone could have paid me to do this.

[It's easy to admit. Wearing a cooling suit doesn't grant her even a single scrap of legitimacy. Her brief gym membership was an act of efficiency, its position fixed midway between her office and the courthouse, enabling her to skip going home for days at a time. She lived in Colorado without ever going skiing. Someday she will be buried in high heels.

She shakes her head.]

I guess I'm just curious how most people adapt to this. What lets you jump right in to fight monsters and ghosts.

[bravelyrunsaway]

( He cants his head, studying her intently for the moment. Not with weight, but with the whole of his attention, an almost physical presence, albeit a gentler one than if he'd had anything other than the slightly detached curiosity of a man used to evaluating people for his survival, and his pack's survival. Nevermind that pack being two members strong. It wasn't about numbers. )

Necessity. ( He says, lips quirking into a smile that's more wry than humorous. ) Necessity is what teaches you to fight, teaches you how to run. Necessity teaches you that monsters die, and ghosts that aren't made by magic are little more than air and bad dreams. It's the ghouls you have to watch for, and those? Those only can be stopped by magic workers. Here, who knows? Ghosts can touch, monsters burrow under sands, and none of us get paid any storming thing to suffer through one man's private venture to prevent the noble dead from using us as they see fit.

( He taps a nail against his sword, the dull ting of it singing in the quiet. )

Decide how much you want to live. Figure out how to run. Whatever half the fools here say, heroics get you dead, and merits for the deceased are useless even if you're not left properly dead here. Adaption is survival. Nothing more, nothing less.

1

[fushichou]

[What's a bro gotta do around here to get some of that sword oil huh]

[bravelyrunsaway]

( He's consistent about this, night after night. Wrapped as his blade is in scabbard, wrapped as its sheath is, sand still infiltrates, and he refuses to allow it to mar the steel, to weaken the strength of its sharp edge. When he catches Izumi's eye, having been in process of pouring oil onto his oil rag, enough to leave it lightly beading, not enough to oversaturate. )

You keep staring like that, a person might get ideas.

( Concerning his cleaning supplies, at present, but Licyn sends Izumi a lifted brow and a half smile before his gaze drops down, attention on how he slides the rag over the surface of his blade. There's a calming methodicalness to his actions, and he finds a peace in them that's otherwise eluded with the desert, the hyenas, the disquiet rumbles about where they head now. )

What's your regular maintenance like, love?

[fushichou]

[Kanesada may be getting used to Licyn insinuating things, but it still amazes him nonetheless. It shouldn't, considering some of the other swords he lives with, but...]

Tch. Maybe I'm just unlucky and mad about it. Did you find that oil back in Serthica?

[They certainly found all kinds of things in that double city, but Kanesada never managed to get his hands on the specific oil he needs. And now Licyn is here practically flaunting it. But Kanesada might be biased.]

Irregular, here. Ideally, I need a certain kind of paper and cloth and oil and stone powder. I've been making do with what I can find, but it's nothing like what I've got back home.

[bravelyrunsaway]

I was a very successful evaluator of metals and jewels, love, don't you know?

( so yes, his connections had been a means to get what he wanted, too, in his flirtations and moving between all aspects of the city. his drone had done the heavy lifting to start, for him to figure out the details of the city's machinations around the specifics of his role, but he'd embraced it for the love of detail it involved.

he likes things with firm, quantifiable boundaries. he adores them, even.

it's why he doesn't like emotions with strong attachments. they're messy, not fun, and to be avoided at most costs. )

I've extra kit, between oil and proper rags and a series of sharpening stones. Is the powder to polish or absorb the oil?

[fushichou]

I guess I don't.

[There's a lot he doesn't know about Licyn, but then he also hasn't asked much. He probably should, just as he should get to know the rest of their group to some extent considering they're all stuck in this hellhole together, but at the bare minimum he feels like Licyn is someone he can trust. At least a little bit.

At the mention of having extra materials, Kanesada can't help but fidget somewhat. He really needs some, but he's not to the point yet where he'll beg for it.]

Ah, right. It's for polishing. The cloth absorbs any excess oil.

[bravelyrunsaway]

( He nods, settling back into caring for his blade. )

But you don't sheath it wrapped. What's your scabbard made from, love?