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westwhere2023-05-15 05:49 pm
groundrules) wrote in westwhere2023-05-15 05:49 pm
Entry tags:
- 2ha: chu wanning,
- arc vi,
- arcane: caitlyn,
- breaking bad: jesse pinkman,
- doctor who: clara oswald,
- doctor who: river song,
- doctor who: the doctor,
- final fantasy xiv: stephanivien,
- harry potter: hermione granger,
- horizon: aloy,
- kingdom of the wicked: emilia,
- kingdom of the wicked: wrath,
- legend of fei: xie yun,
- mcu: america chavez,
- mcu: kamala khan,
- mcu: natasha romanova,
- mcu: wanda maximoff,
- oh! my emperor: beitang moran,
- oh! my emperor: su xunxian,
- original: red,
- outlander: claire fraser,
- penny dreadful: vanessa ives,
- test drive,
- tian guan ci fu: xie lian,
- umbrella academy: allison,
- umbrella academy: five,
- untamed: lan sizhui,
- warcraft: wrathion,
- warframe: kahl 175,
- zettai karen children: kumoi yuuri
the sunken | part i
Welcome to the first log of Arc VI: the Sunken, which covers 15 May – 2 June and doubles as a test drive meme.
Back/forward date as needed! The calendar date suggestions are indicative.
The TDM is open to everyone! If you decide to apply to the game, you can get an invite from current players or the upcoming enabling meme — or participate in the test drive meme and get in touch @
groundrules to chat things over. We currently have 13 slots available for new players. Test drivers can use this post for logs and network posts — old timers, please make your network posts at
eastbound. LOST AT SEA | TEST DRIVE TOURISTS
You wake, gasping, in a stormy sea, your thoughts slowed to a confused trickle. Skill, floating wood or a kindly stranger — who you can’t understand — help you to reach shore.
Villagers discover you collapsed on sand and provide critical (if rickety) communication and translation devices. They say you are in Sunken Yancai, a fishing village progressively overtaken by waters and cursed by the secretive ‘ladies of the lake’ to transit through time.
- ■ Rescuers group newcomers and supply questionable village couture, warm meals and accommodations in abandoned, half-flooded homes or spare small boats anchored in Yancai’s waterways. Huddle up, recover your strength and don’t think too hard on why your memories are hazy over the next three days.
■ Come morning, you visit village leader Quanze Tsaymien, then the sorceress Karsa — who explains you are otherworlders summoned into Akhuras by undead lords who wish to weaponise you in their battle against humans and one another. Karsa is an associate of the Merchant, who leads otherworlders towards ancient transport beacons east.
■ One such beacon rests dormant in Yancai. The group must infiltrate the village and wait a few weeks until it shifts to a point back in time when the beacon was active.
■ Newcomers are handed passport papers with their new identities in Yancai, where they may be known as a bankrupt merchant, perpetually drunk sailor, whale hunter, raft surveyor, mermaid who has just gained their legs, crab collector... feel free to invent a dutifullyhilariousapt role for their seaside sojourn.
OLD TIMERS | THE DRIFTING
You dragged yourself here in a haze. You arrived long ago, as if in a dream. You were born and bred in this village. In truth, your memories of reaching lively Yancai feel nebulous and alarmingly inconsequential.
Characters are facilitated new identities and dwellings by the Merchant, or believe they have had them all along.
- ■ A weary Karsa warns to say nothing to party members with altered memories, until the sorcery that affects them runs its course.
■ Memory-altered characters progressively regain their memories within three to five days (by 20 May). They have their memories partially or fully back at night ( midnight to 5 a.m.). Throughout the day, memory regains can trigger migraines, eerie confusion and paranoia.
■ Hauntings begin once characters have fully regained their memories.
■ Once everyone is ‘back to normal,’ Karsa explains that Yancai periodically transits through time. The memory alterations are a magical solution endorsed by the village council, which ensures locals mentally weather these shifts. Villagers continue to blithely accept you as part of the community.
(DON'T) HOLD YOUR BREATH
Karsa reunites the existing party and newcomers, issuing first assignments. The Merchants’s information suggests the beacon of Yancai will be online once the village travels in time within weeks. A dubious Karsa asks the party to check on the beacon, located in the former House of Commerce of the largely inundated merchants’ district. Reach it by rowing boat.
- ■ Villagers say the Master of Commerce, a famous musician, took precautions against intruders.
■ All ground and lower floor entryways of the palatial House were boarded to restrict flooding. To enter, pick locks or climb the putrid stairwell towards upper balconies.
■ Inside, the hissing of running water — and, in the lower levels, of thin, slippery leeches whose bite numbs your limbs, while they attempt to feed. You seem to experience pronounced vertigo when entering any decaying rooms covered in black mould.
■ The beacon is located on a dais in the basement vault room, where water rises near 1 meter. Only a few scattered scrolls and golden decorations remain among decorations, while a large ceiling carving writes, greed deafens man to the cries of his conscience; music sets him free.
■ Some tiles of the marbled floor stand out as you wade — step on one, and all doors abruptly slam shut, while dozens of obscured holes in the wall start to rapidly spill water, threatening to fill the room to the ceiling within the hour. You hear the tinny, waning sound of a village song played from a hidden source.
■ To stop the pouring water and open the doors, sing the song you hear, or find the music box that produces it amid debris on the water-covered floors. Wind it, and it plays its song in reverse, revealing the voice of a laughing elderly man who says, Depressingly, Anurr was right to worry.
■ Don’t forget to check the beacon — and report back to Karsa that it looks structurally untarnished.
THEY SLEEP
After surprising revelations at previous citadels, Karsa tasks you to investigate just how… permanent death is in Yancai. Villagers share that their dead are buried in a strange rite at sea — part of which will take place within days.
- ■ The dead are ‘entombed’ in one-man sarcophagi ships with carved and chained lids that depict their likeness. These burial boats are set at sea on the first day of each season and return three months later.
■ Join the harbours around 22 May, when mourners gather to receive the burial boats. Characters must pretend to be greatly anguished relatives, acquaintances or debt collectors to join the grieving.
■ The boats float towards you, seemingly of their own volition. Gaze afar and spot a boat carrying a man in black — the same who haunts some characters — who observes until the last burial ship has reached the piers, before he disappears.
■ Sailors draw up the boats and unpeel the untouched chains and lids, to reveal… no corpses. Peer closer and find neither biological signs (stench, liquids) of discomposure, nor the magical chillness of spaces where cadavers have lingered long. Scratch marks litter the inside of some boat lids.
■ Mourners seem grateful that the waters have ‘accepted’ the bodies. Some say that their relatives whose boats have yet to return must have been stolen by the ‘ladies of the lake,’ a villainous witch coven. Speak to mourners or sailors for clues.
■ Linger long near opened burial boats, and you feel tempted to throw yourself into the sea, slowly losing consciousness — until someone rescues you.
AMONG US
On 25 May, village leader Quanze Tsaymien drags the chained and half feral mistress Miang-si to households and Yancai’s largest market square.
The young woman, he says, was seduced by the ladies of the lake — the furtive witch coven that condemned Yancai to time travel. Luckily, the village elders have… coaxed Miang-si back onto the righteous path.
- ■ Miang-si is brought door-to-door to point out her 'accomplices.' Ill at ease, villagers whisper of similar witch hunts leading to false accusations and blood-curdling repercussions.
■ Both men and women are suspected and brought before Miang-si. Perhaps she takes an eerie interest in you, getting especially close to catch your scent, touch or remark on (in)visible hurts, or even dotingly kiss you. If you whisper quickly while she’s near, you might be able to ask one question.
■ If you are patient and kind to Miang-si, she briefly squeezes your hand as she withdraws. Within the hour, you find blood writ on your palm that warns, Our fat moon rises red.
■ If you are agitated, or if Quanze rushes her during your visit, Miang-si erupts into sudden, side-splitting cackling — while you find yourself croaking like a toad, or transforming into one and retaining human speech. The spell dissolves after eight hours.
■ Quanze’s long-suffering men say this sorcery breaks faster if you kiss one of the curmudgeonly emerald toads that hide in some of Yancai’s lakes. Catch one such delightful, slime-spitting creature or barter it from merchants at a costly premium.
ILL MET BY MOONLIGHT
A full moon is set to rise within days of Miang-si’s visit, on 27 May — just as Yancai shows signs of time shifting. Villagers are prone to stilling and staring askance, seeming lost or adrift.
The village itself evolves: one moment, the same house appears freshly new, then drowned, while waterways overfill with water, then seem barren. Overall, the village deteriorates.
- ■ That day, the sun suffers a midday eclipse, while droves of black birds circle the woods and village outskirts, attacking those who come close.
■ The waters increasingly thicken and darken, preventing boats from entering certain waterways.
■ An exceedingly bright moon and a diffuse lunar replica rise with nightfall. Come midnight, the village is alive with the sounds of ripping, structural collapse and shrieks. Tar-covered corpses emerge from the waters, clawing on and climbing up piers. They swarm, drawing passers-by into waters to drown them. Help them — and foremost, yourself.
■ Light and fire keep the dead at bay. On some waterways, wildfire now spells, WHAT IS WET WAS WRONGED
■ Weaker alone, fresh corpses climb into your rowing boat, pretending they are innocents who seek shelter. They betray themselves by speaking very slowly, struggling to keep track of the conversation or obliviously peppering it with details of their death. They stubbornly ask questions about you, repeating your answers, and become violent if you say they are dead. Push them into the water at first opportunity.
■ Quanze Tsaymien and other men of the village take arms, urging villagers to barricade in the nearest home, harbour or warehouse and weather the night. They advise to be silent and beware the dead who imitate living voices, warning not to touch any black mould or water that suddenly appear in your home — which alert the dead of your presence within.
■ Some dead try to tear you apart, while others seek to feed you a disgusting, tar-like black mould. A small taste of it makes you sluggish and feeble for two-three hours, while an entire fistful can kill.
■ If the undead infiltrate your house, hold your breath, do not move and keep from screaming. The dead have weak sight and olfactory senses and might pass you by, as long as you stay silent. It can be more efficient to fool than kill the dead.
■ By 5 a.m., houses start to replenish themselves, gaining a new appearance, while water and mould retreat. The dead withdraw into waterways. Outside doors have been marked with blood: vertical lines tell how many living people remain inside; horizontal ones count how many within died overnight.
■ You step to seize a brave new day — while Yancai enters a new time period (further details due in the next plot update).
NOTES
- ■ The game enabling meme goes up on 25 May.
■ Hit up available NPCs here or in their new inbox!
■ QUESTIONS.
marc spector, marvel comics — tourist
— lost at sea, arrival
— ill met by moonlight
no subject
In his hand, he holds a whip that appears to be made of a willow branch, leaves and all.
He frowns back, without having so much as flinched to have been nearly attacked.]
You should follow that advice.
[The words are clipped. He's not actually angry, but he has the worst case of resting bitch face and so always seems angry or like he's picking a fight.]
no subject
it is safe to say that here, fighting the dead, very little has changed. his suit has seen better days and he is going to regret that come the morning (his is a hard life), but for now—.
he's not attacked (nice), and marc can appreciate the blunt response for what it is. in response, he hums a noise of vague acknowledgement that might be agreement, but he doesn't say anything one way or the other, not for the moment, his attention otherwise caught by chu's — weapon? marc, strictly speaking, doesn't have any room to talk given his personal choices in everything, but a branch is an interesting choice.
(he won't ask.) )
I don't die. It's not a problem.
( 'it' meaning 'being careful'. )
sort of battle wildcard!!!
( What is wet was wronged: Lan Wangji, imperiously, drenched and reshaped by his weight's worth of viscera. Red, under moonlight, darkens — brush strokes of gutting and decay, and Lan Wangji would feel marked for it, consumed and tainted, if not for less poetic priorities.
The dead man he'd severed, in a clean sweep of sword's silver, had — companions.
If not loving or loyal, they were at least intent, and Lan Wangji cannot say who starts the game first, whether he pivots, or the corpses give him catch, if he propels himself to jump, or they careen and throw him up and over —
— but it's a fine night to be a limb-scattered projectile, weather truly grim, dark, double-mooned and resplendent —
— and he doesn't screech when he falls through the dwelling's roof, termite-graze beams groaning husky and dry, tiles all clamour, like chattering teeth. He feels scratches, petty stabs. Later, he will conclude he landed, first in a knot of molten limbs, when he misses his landing, the splinters of his ankle bones snap, and his qi energies reroute towards recovery. The old wound, he knows, for all it was a knee's injury, once. There will come a time when he must accept age punishes him worse than the war.
Not on this night. The dead yet gather, his sword drawn. He lingers on the floor, all of three heartbeats — two too long. By the time he navigates the long-held battle against gravity, it strikes him, in the dark and dust-saddled mayhem of the house he's summarily invaded, that he may have declared war against an occupant.
He blinks. Stares at his own sword, accusing. Cannot, in truth, claim he comes in peace. And outside, the dead growl, gather. Well then. )
...you are theirs or your own?
( The dead, he has learned, are... stiff conversationalists. )
GOSH
(and here, on the ground, he'd not been anticipating either. he supposes he should have. more fool him.)
the sword is more expected and, in comparison to everything else, almost welcome. not exactly a sight that incites joy, but whether lan wangji is friend or foe, at least his weapon will be useful. in whatever way circumstances shake out.
—the question, though. that gives him pause. bemusement (nothing unfamiliar to marc spector) evident in the ensuing, short-lived silence. it's an odd way to ask if marc's alive and though lan wangji may have discovered the dead are not overly talkative, not in any way that matters, he'll soon find that neither is marc. still, fortunately for the two of them but perhaps especially so for marc, marc is no longer in the phase of his life where he insists he's a ghost! a spectre of the moon, a dead man (as dead as khonshu—).
no, marc spector is alive, though he has died before. (three times, because staying alive is a challenge and marc is not especially good at it.) )
Not theirs, ( is the answer he gives, as close to the truth as he's going to get. certainly, marc has never described himself as his own and isn't about to start now — for all else that he may be, for all else that his feelings are, he is khonshu's. he is (the) moon knight. his gaze lingers on wangji, brow furrowed, neither convinced enough of the question nor the answer to turn it back to wangji.
instead, his gaze shifts up, to the ceiling — or what was once the ceiling, now a gaping hole through which the night sky can be seen, the sounds of their new (not-)friends clambering and— ) Nice night. ( for... a fall? to fight dead things? generally? he doesn't clarify. )
:' )
( Nice night. It spills of him, rash and acidic under the jagged cut of the moon's beam, this man impudent, a fool or a hero — each with their quiet qualities of indefensible lunacy.
But then, here lies Lan Wangji, recalling poise in juvenile increments, the slow uncoiling of his back a timid suggestion that while the bridge of his vertebrae still unspools, some part's gone stiff, or torn or ruined. The Heavens be thanked for the burst of energies that flows fast and free in his system, attending its own requirements.
He will hurt — tomorrow. )
The dead howl. The village drowns. ( Nothing of the circumstance is idyllic or exemplary. The roof creaks petulantly, hard steps carrying the dead forward. One peers down, gaze wild and animalic, white of its eyes perceived in the dark. It tempts Lan Wangji to send his sword up and stab its line of sight — but another dead man's face peers in, half decayed, a third one comes in with a cheek ruptured, and before Lan Wangji finishes his count, half a dozen corpses are...
...peering down a hole, eerily silent, like cats waiting on meat cuts. He blinks. )
The roof will not keep. ( If Lan Wangji is to go by, the roof is exceptionally susceptible to even light, if crafty projectiles. And they now have an infestation. )
— wildcard