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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.
no subject
( Snapped, almost. Sharp, like hard metal. Singeing. He stills for a moment, perfectly and completely, the whole of his body answering the calls of his heart's part.
Inevitably, he simmers, recalling to bow his head, tighten the line of his mouth. Here speaks the sect leader, the man who did not pay for his guan with Wei Ying's bones and dust and ashes. His brother was worthy to receive Sizhui. All others, perhaps not so.
He does not speak for long, pained moments. )
Forgive me.
no subject
[ His hands have stilled, comb hovering before he hears an apology and continues. ]
That is not what I meant.
no subject
( Isn't it? Ah, but his mouth wears tension like tassels, like bruising. It lingers long and deep before the moment's passed, done, dissolved. He feels unlike himself, an animal cornered, belly to the ground. The hunt isn't done until one man's bled.
Strange, how more than sixteen years ago, he learned to turn weapons on the sect. How he has yet to put them down. He stirs, shifting. )
Gratitude. My hair is settled. ( Humblest of thanks for this fine work. )
no subject
All done, yes.
[ No more questions. ]
no subject
( Hardly performative, never unintended: the bend of his back, when he turns, arc deep. He holds the bow, muscles and spine trained for this one purpose, his biology attuned to the urgency of paying his brother, his sect leader, due respect.
Then, rising, he sees this: Zewu-Jun, bright as the jade that names him, honouring their people, against sad dearth and silence, dust and decay. Zewu-Jun, unsuited to these lands, and Lan Wangji, mouth agape, who may not have summoned him — but yet wishes him, selfishly, close. )
May I attend you? Serve tea?
no subject
Mm, let's have some tea. That would be nice.
[ Although he wonders, what kind do they have in a cave? ]
no subject
( It is not the tea of their ancestors, or any brew that Cloud Recesses might deign to present an honoured guest. In truth, on better days, Lan Wangji would hesitate to present it — but appetites exceed dignity, elegance is the privilege of the scant and the few, and Lan Wangji rushes to introduce the gravelly, stale powders Wei Ying has no doubt secured at an obscene premium.
A heating talisman later, a few chipped an scratched wooden cups, the vessel for brewing. He remembers, at least, the forms to greet a guest and display the offering, to pour with a steady, graceful hand. One cup, offered from bowing hands. A second, for Wangji's safe-keeping. He drinks once, behind his sleeve, and does not linger on his confusion if he has tasted herb, flower or sewage dregs. )
Wei Ying... has a forgiving palate.
no subject
It's tea, all the same.
[ Which is all he can really say for it, taking a slower sip to try and taste something better this time. ]
no subject
Shame should wash every part of Lan Wangji that isn't eagerly pining for a hole in hot, dark earth to rescind himself. No, no. He must not show face further. Only pour again, until his brother's cup is once more filled, because if they suffer to save face, then they might as well bleed.
Cough with feeling. )
Zewu-Jun's kindness honours him. ( A moment, then: ) You have lodgings?
( If everyone is assigned dwellings, then surely Xichen — ) Retain them.
( — cannot have worse than a cave. )
no subject
[ But! He fishes out the documents for Gao Long and his profession as a Lotus Picker, handing them over to Wangji as they both drink terrible tea with straight faces. ]
I was given these.
no subject
( ...Lotus picker. Of course. Of all the tasks, of all the indignities, of all the toil sect leader Lan, the esteemed Zewu-Jun might be confronted with, sullying his hands with weeds is what this world deemed fitting.
Lan Wangji does not begrudge much, only this: the tension of his hands, their tight-knuckled, rash clench. How he breathes out in empty, strained exhalations, and manages belatedly: )
Retain your sleep quarters. I shall do your work.
no subject
[ He isn't going to pretend to be better than anyone else who has been displaced from their home or shirk any responsibilities. ]
If such a menial task is what will lend a low profile, so be it. We should not make waves; not until drowning the enemy once and for all is a certainty.
no subject
( Is beneath the First Jade of Lan, completely. A crass and loathsomely pedestrian task, better suited for lesser men and children. For his part, yet stubborn, Lan Wangji punishes himself that he could not protect his brother from this calamity with another taste of the...
...tea. Grimaces. Shudders. Moves on. )
Does not become you.
no subject
[ A poignant silence lingers. ]
We cannot be picky with our ways and means. [ Gently; ] I am capable and willing, it does not demean me.
[ Thank you for caring. ]
no subject
( ...of course. Even in this, he lacks the ability to protect, to fend, to honour. His brother, the better man, is at once reduced to accepting this dubious turn of events towards crass poverty, and better equipped to weather it through.
Lan Wangji's head bows, teeth gritted. Aching. He speaks nothing, not a word of protest, not another of harm.
Until, finally: ) Your wish, my command.
no subject
As much as I wish you were home and safe, I am grateful for your company as always.
no subject
We yet have safety. ( Together, with Wei Ying, their two maiden companions. There is no bleeding, no pain. Bones are not so broken, skin yet untattered. They can survive. )
The dead are not often so dominant. ( Which reminds him, callously: ) After rest, we will return to cull them.
( For now, ease, sleep. Fatigue lives too long in their bodies, ruinous, to risk another hunt. Even at war, generals insisted on the long-term benefits of rest. )