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

( the drifting, DAY 1-2 )
It's a testament to the slow decline of Nacho's sanity that his first thought is only, "Not this shit again." when he realizes some of their crew are talking like they've been here for years. Some of them talk like they've lived here all their lives.

Karsa says not to say anything to them, so he doesn't.

Anyway, he thinks, would it be so bad to stay here? After all, being a tax collector isn't glamorous and it doesn't win you a lot of friends, but it's a legitimate, legal job, and he's good at it. Maybe this is his chance to do things right, he thinks, live the normal, legal life his father would have wanted him to live...

There's a somehow ominous knock on the door of your place of business or your residence that afternoon. Open it, and see Nacho wordlessly extending his tax collector jar to you, one eyebrow raised meaningfully. Pay up.

( the drifting part ii - DAY 3-4 )
Or, open it to see a slightly more haggard Nacho holding up candles. Drugs, as it turns out, tend to sell themselves. Candles require more legwork, and so far he's not having much luck. He promised Jesse he'd try, though, so here he is.

"Hey," he says, as you open the door. He looks you up and down, trying to decide if you're the kind of person he's okay with hawking pyramid scheme candles to. If you look poor, or he knows from his other job that you're behind on your taxes, expect him to quickly rescind his offer. If, however, you look like you've got more dollars than sense, he'll launch into his scripted speech.

( drifting, part iii - NIGHT 5 )
cw: brief mention of drugs and drug trafficking

The pungent odor of an upholstery shop fills one of the upstairs rooms at the dilapidated restaurant that Nacho and a few others call home. It's a smell that was comforting for Nacho, once upon a time, even if it isn't to most people. Now, though, it burns his lungs and makes his heart ache with guilt. He still see it even now. His father, hiding around a corner, watching Hector helplessly with pained, angry eyes... thinking about his father's beloved shop being used to funnel drugs...

It hurts Nacho even now to think about it.

He closes his eyes, breathing hard but trying to get back to sleep when he hears it. Just outside his window. Unmistakably, that's his father's voice. Talking about-- talking about work shit, nothing important, but that his old man--

Simple logic would dictate that his father wouldn't be trying to fit upholstery here, now, in the middle of the night, but Nacho is half-asleep and not operating on normal waking logic. He jumps up and flings himself out of bed, opening his door with such force it bounces against the wall. "Dad!" he yells, rubbing the sleep out of one eye.

Also, yeah, he is still in sleep clothes as he charges down the stairs, through the restaurant, barreling past anyone ringing bells for chowder or doing just about anything else, yelling frantically, "Dad! Dad!"

He's heading for directly outdoors, and he's probably being loud enough to wake everyone in the place if they're not up already.

( they sleep - MAY 22)
cw: minor, magic-induced suicidal ideation

Nacho is unable to look away from the scratches on the inside of the lids of some of the boats. He's unable to look away from any of it. He rests a hand on a boat lid there, crouches down to get a better look at something there. He frowns thoughtfully as he does it.

The ocean water that gently laps at the edges of the returned funeral boats is dark but more and more tempting by the second. He can imagine, at first, how cool the water would feel against his skin if he slipped into it, and when that's not enough to convince him to take the plunge his thoughts become more intense. More vividly, he thinks suddenly that he shouldn't be, that his existence was supposed to be over now. He took his own life. That was supposed to be the end.

There's a crash and a splash as Nacho halfway flings, half lets himself fall into the water.

( ill met by moonlight - MAY 27 )
You're probably a housemate, or maybe a restaurant patron! Maybe you're not at the Dancing Seagull at all; who knows, this could be somewhere else completely different. He's not the type not to go out and try to save people who need it, after all.

Wherever you are, though, one of the walking dead is creeping slowly past you. Nacho is on top of you, hand lightly pressing against your mouth. "Shhh," he whispers into your ear. "Don't. Move."

( wildcard )
[ Something else grab your fancy? Feel free to BYOS (Bring Your Own Starter). As a note, willing to match whatever style you prefer; just did this in prose because it was easier for me to get it written that way! ]

Now that things have gone to absolute hell, like she figured they would eventually (although, it isn't Hell hell this time, so that's nice), Clara has been looking for the people she cares about. Especially the people who've gone out of their way to save her or make sure she's okay.

It's Nacho she's trying to find now, being as small and quiet as possible. Clara's done an impressive job so far and she enters the restaurant quietly, not daring to whisper yet. It's then that she feels herself being pulled close, eyes wide in alarm as a hand goes over her mouth. As soon as her brain registers that it's actually him, she nods and presses closer, trying to blend into whatever shadows there are.

He can feel the warmth of her underneath him. He wonders if she can feel, or maybe even hear, the rapid thudding of his heart. It feels like it's trying to break free of his chest.

Clara is indeed impressively quiet; Nacho is silently amazed that she was able to sneak in as well as she did. Impressed, but also a little bit concerned, and part of him maybe wants to scold her. What the hell did she think she was doing, coming here all by herself?

He can't deny he's glad to see her, though. The smell of her pinned underneath him is a small comfort in this situation, but it is still a comfort.

The food of one of the undead drags across the tavern floor, making a scraping sound. Nacho remains silent and still, on top of Clara.

Nacho definitely won't be the only person scolding her after this passes. But that's a problem for future her, and right now, they both need a plan to get out.

Although, being pinned under him isn't the worst thing, and there's an immediate sense that she'll be safe with him. Her eyes try to find his in the dusty dark of the tavern. Her heart isn't beating any slower than his, but she has an idea, she just has to be able to reach to get it. Hopefully he's good with a sword.

Holding her breath, one hand moves to rest on Nacho's arm while the other tries to snake behind her back to reach into her back pocket. If this were any other time, she'd stop to think about the way she's pressing against him, because he feels solid and warm in a way that isn't helpful for escaping the undead. Or maybe it is. A reason to live.

Once she has what she's looking for, she holds out a pocket knife between them, but leans up to press close again, her exhale warm against his cheek, her voice just a notch above audible.

"Soon as you hold this out, it'll turn into a sword."

A gift from the few quiet days before Alem. How whatever runs this planet knew to give her a sword that adjusts for the size of the user is beyond her and she'd rather not question it. Much. It probably isn't what he's used to (or is it? He's a hot mystery to her), but if he can shove the sharp end into something, they'll be in business.

Nacho would do anything to keep her safe. Protected. He'd do what he can to protect anybody here, but Clara especially tugs at something deep inside of him. She's small, but feisty. There's a spark in her that he's never seen in anyone else before. It makes being around her intoxicating.

She's also full of surprises.

Feeling her warm breath on his skin almost makes him dizzy. Nacho swallows. A sword?

He's never used a sword before. Guns and knives are a lot more his speed. First time for everything. Hopefully, he's a natural.

He trusts her, though. Stupid of him, maybe. He's not usually a trusting guy. But there's just something about her.

He says one word - "okay" - and stands up, heart pounding. He extends out an arm, and charges at the closest one of the undead.

Her word is good, and Clara scrambles to her feet, watching as the sword goes right through the dead person with a sick sound that makes her cringe, feeling her stomach roll as she leans down to press her hands to her knees.

Closing her eyes, she takes a few deep breaths but is still quiet, just in case there's anything else. When she opens her eyes, she immediately lands on the dead body, unable to stop staring at it, unable to pull away her gaze. She's never seen anything like this before; somehow even with all of the dead, being this close—it's never happened for her.

Kahl stays back. He understands being sad when someone dies--it's happened a lot in his life, and he's taken care of the dead when he can. But for Grineer, that means something different.

...And, well, Kahl is tall. Getting close to look at the coffins would get in the way. So he stays at the edge and listens, frowning more and more as he hears little pieces of what's going on. When a local friend wants to see a coffin, he follows, comforting them and trying not to show how much the boats make him worry. Undead stuff. Has to be. No black mold here, but this has him on edge.

He glances up when he sees movement. Clara's friend Nacho, looking not there, jumping into the--"Hey!" Kahl pushes through the crowd like a battering ram, grips one of the posts on the pier and swings down over the side into the water, grabbing Nacho and dragging him face-up. "No. Clara's friend not do this."

America's awake. Sleep hasn't been easy to come back, after the hauntings started. The shouting still startles her, though, cutting through the silence the way it does.

It sounds like Nacho, America registers, and it sounds like footsteps are headed toward the exit.

She pulls herself out of her own room and heads after him.

"Nacho! What're you doing?"

Oddly enough, this isn't the first or even second time that Wanda's witnessed someone plunge into water without much warning. She hears it more than she sees it, turning around during her careful exploration to catch the tail-end of a figure dropping into the water with a splash.

It's reflexive, the wave of her hand and the red magic that pulls whoever fell into the water back onto solid ground. It's not necessarily a soft landing, but it's someone's lungs out of the water, and that's what matters.

"Hey, you okay?" Wanda doesn't quite register who it is as she crosses over to the now very drenched person.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

the sunken | part i

Nacho Varga | Better Call Saul | Old Timer

ill met by moonlight :3 (lmk if this works!)

it's perfect :3

no subject

Sorry this is so late! Feel free to ignore if you want to.

We can always do something new!

they sleep | gotta rescue clara's buddy!!

( drifting, part iii - NIGHT 5 )

they sleep - MAY 22