westwhere | the sunken

the sunken | part i

THE SUNKEN

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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

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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 dutifully ~~hilarious~~ apt role for their seaside sojourn.

OLD TIMERS | THE DRIFTING

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Work, Teahouse or Tavern } days 1-5 (open)

[ The work of both seamstress and laundress is mostly solitary by choice, with Vanessa able to carry on silently for hours, but every act taken to repair or wash away the mistakes of the denizens keeps her in constant connection with the village. Stains and tears, no matter how bloody or mangled, are rectified as if by magic, and never a word of judgment from Vanessa in turn. Their secrets are safe. For those deserving of it–whether the most destitute or reviled–she’ll even smile and kindly tease when engaged in trade for her services. It isn’t only coin that she accepts; Vanessa keeps an open mind.

That’s just how it’s been for as long as she’s lived here, which has been…always. Yancai is home. That sense of belonging does wonders for her spirits most days, but even here something tries to pull Vanessa between two worlds.

By day (when not working), she might engage herself with writing in a journal in the corner of the teahouse, quietly people-watching when she isn’t taking notes. Very few pass through unnoticed by her. If she's staring, it's likely a reason even she isn't aware of.

By night, if she's at the tavern, she can hold her own with the sailors; drinks and intrigue are invited into the shadows with whomever she singles out (could it be you?).

That is, until she feels a sense of foreboding that…seems almost familiar, and then there’s an axe trying to split her skull in two. At least, that’s the feel of it. The sudden pain of her migraine sends her forward with a cry, hands flying to cover her eyes as her drink clatters to the ground completely forgotten. ]

Along a Pier } recovered memories (open)

[ Even with her memories seemingly in order, Vanessa isn’t much more knowledgeable about a certain item in her possession, and she’s determined to learn more about it now that she’s regained her spell knowledge. It has nothing to do with the larger mystery here, but it's the occasional distraction she needs. With so many belongings left behind in Alem, however, Vanessa has been attempting to replenish certain ingredients, and it’s outside her second apothecary in a row now that she decides to take a break and sit on a pier more isolated than the rest.

Some of the herbs stink, but then so does the rest of the village, so she has no concern as her purchases are stuffed into her shoulder bag. Inside the bag, her fingertips tap the corner of a small box that weighs more than it ought to thanks to the metal lining the edges. Still, she can feel the heart that beats within, just as surely as she can feel the call of the sea.

For now, she’ll reluctantly leave the box and her purchases within the bag, instead pulling out a thin cigarette to light, followed by a meager sandwich with bread that’s...a bit smashed. It isn’t much, but if she happens to spot someone she recognizes as a fellow ‘traveler’, Vanessa will split it and offer the other half. ]

Hungry?

They Sleep } one can brood and eavesdrop (open)

[ Though she may be of no mood or care to seek a beacon, Vanessa will always be drawn to the dead and their cause in some form or another. She hardly needs to act to look as if she might be mourning, with grief always behind her pale eyes.

Entrenched in her own concerns over identity, how can she not wonder at the identities of the Ladies of the Lake that are so whispered about? If they choose some burial boats, what is their reason? Somehow, she must learn if they are Nightcomers or Daywalkers. History in London would lead her to assume the former, but experience elsewhere has taught her that not all witches are to be condemned. If anything, she ought to be wary that a finger isn’t pointed at her in any future witch hunts. Once was enough; she needs no more brands upon her back.

Vanessa is careful who she speaks to, more often than not lurking just near enough to overhear any gossip shared from others who might try investigating. If that means she’s lingering a bit too close and eavesdropping on you, then have a half-hearted grimace of apology should she be caught. She isn’t at her best. ]

Wildcard! } set or request a scene

[ ooc; Further prompts below. Feel free to message me anywhere if you want to plot something before or after she recovers her memories. Here is Vanessa's role and dwelling, although after giving it further thought with recent character arcs, I've tweaked her haunting quite a bit (please forgive me, lovely mod!). ]

Days 1-5 } cw: blood, scorpion imagery

[ Before secreting away to do her work for the village, Vanessa is sociable enough to others who reside in the cave with her. If there ever happens to be dessert leftover from the night before, she will be first to take it for breakfast. That, and perhaps she’ll dust a teasing farewell kiss towards the hand of whoever she passes first. If Vanessa ever has nightmares, they are well forgotten by morning.

And she does have nightmares, but when she awakens from them late at night she has no memory of them. She only knows that she has to act; she has to defend herself. With memories that can’t be her own, any others in the vicinity might find Vanessa crouched in the middle of the night near the cave’s entrance with a bloodied hand frantically drawing out the beginnings of what will become a sigil of a large scorpion.

If approached, she’ll glance aside but won’t stop. ]

It’s so they can’t find me.

Recovered Memories } aw it's just more drama

[ Since recovering her memories, Vanessa has fewer laughs and flirtations for her cave-mates, instead leaving early and returning late, with little to say for herself and no desire to explain. Occasionally, a plate of sweet treats will be left in a communal space for the others, though she’ll be cautious to do so when they aren’t around to bother her with gratitude. Let the desserts be a 'mystery'.

When the hour strikes late, she awakens from lack of air, choking on a rancid smoke that rises from her pillow. A black cloud billows forth from Vanessa when she lurches and coughs out the poisonous air, then whips around to toss her pillow aside. Underneath it is her tarot set, with one card in particular consumed by the black mass.

The whole set of cards is tossed to the cave floor, and Vanessa is quick to try and smother it with her blankets. She swears for a moment she sees a man in the distance, obscured by the smoke, but he’s gone by the time it subsides. After, Vanessa pulls the blanket aside to find the cards seemingly in fine condition except for the problem card at the center. The back is blank except for a message scrawled in familiar writing: Further still? Will you take us with you?

Compelled to pick up the single card, she crouches and flips it to find a Ten of Swords in her palm. Dread fills her, and Vanessa looks again to where the strange figure once stood. He’s gone, and she knows this won't be the only time this curse finds her. She doesn't need her magic to know. Curses are constant.

There are others here who seem to be burdened with their own curses, and so she tries to stay silent on hers now that she has her wits back about her. ...So to speak. How is one supposed to stay silent after making such a scene? Had others seen the smoke? ]

Wildcard! } set or request a scene

Edited 2023-05-18 04:28 (UTC)

( He wakes to his mouth full of a familiar beaded bracelet, the cord breaking as he shifts to sitting up with a violent thrust of his palm down, free hand flying up to cover his mouth. The beads spill out with his violent coughing, caught and held in place as his eyes tear up by reflex. Lan Zhan sleeps beside him, arms crossed over his chest, steady and breathing and alive. Wei Wuxian is glad to see he's still there, has been since their extended separation by Lan Zhan's choice, but it's not his husband who can hold his attention beyond the reassurance while he coughs.

No, it's his gaze lifting to catch sight of the dark form of the man who'd presided over the returned coffin boats, the Dark Man or whatever the villagers had called him. Wei Wuxian's watering eyes watch him step back from the entrance of the cave, swallowed by the rest of the night behind him, even while he shoves himself up, hand dropping away from his mouth to cradle the whole of the carved bead bracelet.

He leaves the blankets mussed and messy at Lan Zhan's side, finding his feet and walking barefoot across the stone floor of the cave toward the front area, where a niche in the wall holds the embers of an earlier fire. The hole through the ceiling allows the smoke to funnel out and away, allowing further the incense that burns during the day hours to escape instead of linger heavy over their collective heads. He blinks the lingering vestiges of reactive tears out of his eyes, glancing down at the collection of wet beads in his hand, the characters carved into them haunting as well as... forgettable. There's a sense of regret, acceptance, longstanding grief that spikes sharper at the name his eyes always catch, night after night.

Jiang Yanli. His shijie, martial sister, elder sister of the heart.

He breathes in past the sharp pang her name still brings to his heart, the tightening bands of his chest, the breath that won't easily leave his constricted throat. Crouching to collect more of the small kindling and wood for the fire stacked to its side, he adds to the embers, coaxing it back to flame with the intention, the hope, of warm water, or perhaps something like tea.

From experience he knows sleep will be slow returning, if it finds him again before the dawn this night. )

Silver Lakes } day 1

[ After tossing her coin into the waters of one of the Silver Lakes, Vanessa likes to remain near while others walk on, unable to resist the glisten of the water, but only because she likes to follow it along the canal until it darkens again. Closer to the sea, which she might swear whispers to her on the wind. On this day, however, she is distracted from her uncomfortable yearning by the sight of a lotus moving along a waterway away from the lakes.

Always fond of the lotuses, her smile is small but tense as she picks up her shoulder bag to step slowly after the flower. It moves so slowly, that at times she wonders if she might be imagining it, but after several minutes she can tell that she’s moved quite a few yards along the canal. Something seems to be tugging it along against the current…something obscured from beneath.

Her footsteps are light and patient, and she tenses when a boat passes by the lotus but leaves it untouched. While careful to step around people in her path, Vanessa doesn’t bother to look up to any of their faces, as she’s too reluctant to take her eyes from her lotus.

One particular individual manages to step into her path for some reason, and it’s with a polite smile and press to the man’s arm that she attempts to move around him so that she might continue her ‘chase’...slow-going as it is. ]

Pardon me.

[ The Doctor is quite aware, of course, that his memories have been altered, though he can't quite discern how, when, or why yet. It feels right to be here, though, wherever this is and however they arrived. No, not however - it's all important, every detail, particularly when things have been meddled with. He's concerned for everyone, though most especially those he's closest to, yet owing to whatever's happened to alter time and memory here, contacting people hasn't been the easiest. Hardly a barrier for him, though, and he sets off on foot to put his eyes on everyone that he possibly can for now.

Fortuitous, then, that he runs into one of the people at the very forefront of his mind. Relief settles over him nearly instantly, though just as quickly, he's filled with a sickening dread.

Narrowing his eyes, he attempts to reach back for her wrist. ]

Vanessa?

[ Ringing through his mind is the directive from Karsa to say nothing to those with altered memories; a true hardship for the Doctor, when he wants desperately to search her mind for the lost memories. Even if their most recent interactions were fraught with feelings of betrayal, sadness, and a sense that things might never be repaired between them, his depth of caring for her remains unchanged. He'd hoped perhaps she might feel something towards him; even anger would be welcome now. ]

[ Not even having looked up when stepping around the individual, she's reluctant still even when she hears her name. She doesn't quite recognize the voice, but whoever it is can bother her when she's working. Right now she's—

—being grabbed. Not roughly, but intimately, and that seems more startling. So much that she finally tears her eyes from the lotus so that she can look to the man asking for her attention. He's nearly touching the bracelet on her wrist, and she's too enamored by his boldness to immediately pull away.

Her brow furrows while she attempts to puzzle him out. A disgruntled customer? She wouldn't forget those, and she can't imagine forgetting eyes like those. Something about him is familiar, and despite his proximity she doesn't feel threatened. If anything, she teases. ]

Did you lure me with the lotus?

[ He had hope—brief, though it was—that she simply hadn't looked up, that she'd mistaken him for a stranger and that when he'd called to her, she might look at him with something approaching remembrance. More troubled than ever to have it confirmed her mind has been tampered with, the Doctor feels both disheartened and furious that something's messed about with her mind, as if she hasn't had enough taken from her recently. And he's been the worst offender; well, nearly. They have him beat now, whatever unseen force is at play here.

He'll have to tread carefully now, though, not wanting to alarm her and also needing to be cautious to understand what forces are at work here.

Forced to pivot from his overwhelming concern, he's caught off-guard not only by her lack of recognition at the sight of him, but her...calm, pleasant demeanor towards him. It's been so long since they had a moment like this, where she wasn't looking at him with sadness, betrayal, and disappointment, where he wasn't reminded of what he'd done to her.

He's not sure how to react at all, feeling a bit unmoored. ]

Do I need to lure you?

[ Were she less aware, she might think he means it in a teasing sense, even with the rather...unsavory undertones of the jest. Even still, it would have intrigued her, but what captures her far more is the sadness in his eyes. That and...something else. Something that she herself has felt before.

It's enough to temporarily distract her from her former chase, with her gaze captivated by him even as she gently attempts to pull her wrist free. Miss Ives doesn't often fraternize so openly in the daylight, no matter how earnest someone's cause. Too caught in her own world, perhaps. ]

It seems you already have. But can you keep me?

[ If he knows her name, it must be because he knows of her trade. That isn't so surprising. What is surprising is why she can't look away, despite the mystery going on right behind her in the waterway. Why doesn't she want to look away?

His sadness is so familiar. ]

What is your need?

[ He doesn't realize that she's caught on to anything in his eyes, of course. He would insist he's not sad about anything at all. No, no, he's perfectly fine, he always is. Though, the flicker of it comes again as she attempts to pull her hand away, and he glances down briefly, realizing he should absolutely relinquish his hold on her but he doesn't much want to.

Still—

No. He can't keep her. Ludicrous question and thought. He'd tried that once, he'd certainly failed.

But he keeps hold of her hand, his touch light. She could pull away if she truly wanted to, he wouldn't force her, but he makes no attempt to let go at least for now.

He should have a reasonable response, of course, but he has to fumble his way through it. Immediately his thoughts drift towards his bow tie, tattered and worn. She'd given it to him and he rarely takes it off, but it needs a good cleaning, certainly. He also can't help thinking of a conversation they'd had so long ago now in the desert, about how well she tied his bow tie for him. A faint memory, almost a lifetime ago, but it pulls a brief smile to his lips. ]

This bow tie, you'll know what to do. Made of the finest silk. Needs a good washing, tender care, whatever it is you do. Well, cleaning, of course. Laundress that you are. Your reputation precedes you and I wouldn't trust anyone else with this. It was given to me by someone very important. So I'm trusting you to make sure it comes back in pristine, tip-top condition.

[ She does slowly pull her hand free, but she doesn't turn from him, instead letting her attention flick across the tie in question. Almost absently, she'll reach up to adjust and loosen it just a touch, then catches herself with a start.

Breath stuttered, Vanessa clasps her hands together and steps back, her smile more curious than ever, yet for that there's more of a shadowed guard before her gaze. What sort of person would elicit such a response from her? Not a nobody. ]

You almost had me wondering over work during my precious free time. [ No, she hadn't much been thinking of work. ] Bring it by later on and I will treat it with tender care.

[ Excuse enough to see him again. Perhaps something will perk him up in the meantime. To that, she'll take another step back, but still facing him, with a head tilt. ]

For now, I am to solve a mystery. Do you like those?

[ She's close enough that it would be ever so easy to take her hand back again, to seek out some tether to her, but it would be complicated and messy, nothing he could explain easily. Whatever's got hold of her, he has to keep her close enough without scaring her off, despite wanting very much to be closer, to be able to talk to her like they always have. Well, until recently. He misses that, among so many other things.

But her safety is paramount to him, and without fully understanding the scope of her memory loss and the damage that might be wrought from being too openly affectionate, the Doctor guards himself.

Still, it's a pleasant thing for a moment, a memory of better days, and he basks in it selfishly while she speaks. ]

Mysteries are what I do—well, when I'm not doing...the other thing I do. Bit boring really, though my gang and I get on, we make it fun. [ The worms, yes. ] Love a mystery, me. What are you trying to work out? I'm sure I can help.

vanessa ives | penny dreadful | old timer

cave-mates }

recovered memories

the doctor }

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Along a Pier

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tavern

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