the sunken | part i

[groundrules]

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.

Comments

[inferus]

Wrath is an individual that rarely reveals how he is feeling on his face, but he does make the slightest of grimace when she mentions people speaking while chewing food like he cannot possibly imagine even considering this as an option. It certainly would not be allowed in Hell, but then again, no demon would ever consider being so ill-mannered in his presence.

"I do not want to know how many mortals actually engage in such activity, do I?"

He will sip on his tea instead of waiting for an answer to that particular question.

[reparo]

There hasn't been much time to think about why a strapping young (sources?) man was called 'Wrath' in this day and age, and she had always imagined it was a nickname of sorts. What she's come to know of him is that he is a solid ally to have when fighting down Hell, and that he definitely can do magic, and also that he disapproves of her reluctance to pick up a physical weapon and learn to wield it.

That being said, there's time now. It's quiet, they're having a moment over tea, and some puzzle pieces fit (finally) into place.

She blinks. "I'm sorry, many mortals?" she says, her voice pitching upwards as she looks at him. "As opposed to what - you're immortal?"

[inferus]

Wrath does not advertise the fact that he is a demon, the fact that he is one of the seven demon princes from Hell, but he also doesn't necessarily hide it either. It is only the fact that he is the 'devil' that he prefers to keep hidden, because mortals tend to have such poor associations with the word. It would only complicate things, make his life more difficult in this world, and it is already difficult enough to be removed from his throne and so much of his power.

He takes another sip of the tea, and then he nods.

"Yes."

He takes another sip of the tea - safe to say he likes it well enough.

[reparo]

Hermione, in hindsight, would probably have a very complicated reaction to finding out the truth of who he is, though undoubtedly she'd accept it. Albeit with some hysterical laughter.

(It's funny, see? Salem witches got murdered when accused of consorting with the devil, and here she is making him tea.)

Ignorance is bliss, but facts can no longer be ignored.

"Yes? That's it? How - how are you immortal?" She gestures towards him, as if All That can't be immortal, see? Then thinks of something else, too. "Is Emilia immortal too?!"

That might be Emilia's story to tell. But! "Is that why she finds it easy to throw herself into danger? Or why you know so much about magic and - and - and war?"

[inferus]

Wrath's eyebrow raises when Hermione gestures at him. If this were in his own world, she would not have to ask that question - mortals react to him generally with a sense of trepidation, fear without him having to do much at all. Like a jaguar prowling through a world full of prey which skitters away when he so much as looks at them.

This world dampens that effect a great deal. Being far away from Hell dampens so much of his power. He hates it. He gave up so much in the first place to rule, to have the power of choice - crawled on to the throne.

He won't speak of his wife. Emilia is still learning who she truly is, what she can do. The curse remains in effect. He will leave it to her to explain what she wants to of herself, and he is certain having a friend to talk to about it would be helpful beyond Wrath who already knows all the answers to her questions but cannot answer them.

"I am a demon, but not any demon - a malvagi, one of the seven Wicked, a prince of Hell, the General of War."

[reparo]

Maybe it has very little to do with how dampened his power is, and more with the fact that Hermione has become desensitised to fear. Fear used to be a healthy reaction to most thing. Death Eaters, Snatchers, big ancient dragons. You would think she is reckless - and usually, she is - but the truth is that she is a little numb to it.

There's a dragon living in this house right now who can take human shape. She considers him one of her dearest friends, too. There are powerful men and women in their extended party whom she doesn't even bat an eye at crossing or contradicting or questioning.

Honestly, Wrath isn't special.

That is, until he reveals what he is, and who he is, and she realises that he might be a little special.

Of course, the reaction is probably not Great (TM). She lets out a little laugh.

"A dem - a demon." Hysterical. She's having tea with a general of war from Hell. "What, as in the concept of heaven and hell of some religions is real?"

The brain does some wild jumps through strings of logic here. "Is your name actually Wrath? I thought it was a moniker!"

[inferus]

It is not the first time someone has laughed at him in response to that revelation - Wrath remembers Emilia's initial response to him following the curse, following her being taken from him. There was laughter. There was her launching herself at him with knife in hand as she lunged at him with the weapon while he dodged each and every attack with ease. His own memory had been so twisted, he didn't know who she truly was to him.

...it's a reunion he looks back on fondly now.

"Correct. Though I find mortal religions tend to get details incorrect or twisted in a sense."

He studies her expression. In truth, Wrath is not his true name, but he does not reveal his true name to anyone (except his wife the first time, she figured it out herself the second). In Hell, the true name of a demon prince means that individual holds power over them.

"Wrath is what I am called, what I am." An embodiment of sin.

[reparo]

She needs a moment here, to sit and feel like an oblivious idiot for not having realised this. Much like with Wrathion just letting it slip that he was a dragon mid-defensive protest against the way dragons were treated in Hermione's world, she's going through a moment. Glass shattering noise included.

Wrath is what he is called.

"Like the sin?" She remembers, in Ke-Waihu, having been branded with one of those so-called sins, told that wrath was one of hers. And pride. It's funny how those things work.

"But you're...not evil," she blurts out, in her confusion, and then buries her face in her hands in embarrassment. "Sorry, that was rude, but there's no easier way to put it? You've been helping us along, and you've been...actually quite nice to talk to when you're not judging..." (Which could be said about her too - is she a demon? Who knows.)

And most importantly, she points out: "And you're with Emilia!" Which really says it all. She trusts Emilia to be an excellent judge of character, here. The fact that he's not only with her but with her is probably telling. She's seen them fighting together, she's seen them caring for each other's safety (a bit single-focused there but alright), so clearly demon does not equal evil.

(If villain bad then why sexy.)

[inferus]

"Yes - as my brothers are embodiments of the remaining sins."

Even now, he feels his own wrath buried deep within his chest in the cage it must always remain inside - a sin can only be a negative thing if it controls someone, and he does not allow his anger to control him.

His eyebrow lifts as she buries her face in her hands following the statement and then immediately apologizes. At the very least, he can appreciate the politeness of apologizing for a rude statement, but it is a commonly held belief among mortals that sins are bad, demons are terrible.

The idea of good and evil is such a mortal notion. Was his Maker good as he created a being without allowing him the power to choose? In some ways, it is all a matter of perspective.

"Demon princes are neither good nor evil as sins are neither good nor evil. I believe my wife would now agree with that." Now that she remembers at least bits and pieces - goddess of fury that she is, older than him, forged in Hell.

[reparo]

Of all the things to focus on, it's this one that brings her up short. "Hold on a moment, what do you mean sins are neither good nor evil? What are they called sins for if they're just random neutral things?"

It's probably something that some men in power decided ages ago. Sins are evil things, and therefore sinners are evil people. It has gotten diluted with time, with every mortal being accusing something of being a sin if it didn't agree with their limited view of their world.

Women reading used to be a sin, for example.

[inferus]

"Who is it that first taught you sins were evil? These definitions were written by mortals, weren't they? Break down those sins in your mind to what they truly are."

There is nothing inherently evil about any of them. People deserve to be angry, to feel fury and wrath. People should be able to lust another without judgement regardless of their gender. People should be able to take a slothful break with their gifts or want for more with a hint of greed at the thought.

"As I mentioned, mortal religion tends to twist what it wishes to its own purposes, wielding the evilness of sin as their holy and righteous weapon against those who do not align with them. They even change the number of sins beyond the original seven, don't they?" Wrath finds these types are often the ones most deserving of Hell, but he only exacts this judgement when they are dead. "...these sins - basic desires only become an issue when one either suppresses them in their struggle to accept these parts of themselves or they are entirely ruled by them, consumed."

Either can be dangerous for varying reasons.

[reparo]

Discussing philosophy and morality with a malvagi in the kitchen is one thing, but agreeing with him...

"You know, I don't think I'm evil," she blurts out, full honesty. "And being a witch I would've been accused of that kind of morality in the past. Probably in the present as well."

She considers everything said tonight, and glances towards the house. It occurs to her that there are many inhabitants of this home that were or are considered evil by the people back in their worlds. Wrathion behaves like someone who's had few people on his side before, Wen Qing acts as though she is repenting for something she can't put into words, and between Wrath and Emilia there's a whole bigger story that Hermione can't even begin to scratch at the surface of. Is she the odd one out, she wonders.

(They all have her beat at levels of unfair beauty, that's certain.)

Maybe her experience in Akhuras has moulded her into a different type of witch. One that has philosophical discussions with a demon in the dark.

She looks back to Wrath. (Wonders here briefly too, if wrathful people belong to him.)

"So, a General of Hell? That explains why you were so capable in Alem - that must have been hard for you."

[inferus]

"Evil is far too simplistic a term for most beings. You are not." Evil. "In my own world, that remains an all too common practice. Burning witches at the stake, locking them away for their perceived sins - at the hands of mortals who believe it is their self-granted, self-righteous judgement to be wielded as they see fit. The hubris of men."

Wrath's expression is hard - a grimace pulls at the corners of his lips. In his world, it is his position and his role to be the judge, to determine those who truly deserve the prison section of Hell - the torture that the mortals speak to.

His other name, after all, is Death though he has not shared that particular one at the moment.

"...the General of War." Wrath is not his brother, but he does find the importance in correct titles. "It was not like the Hell of my world, but it was a Hell" He eyes her after a moment, taking a sip from the cup in his hand. "I could recognize it in that way." And it recognized him in turn. "Like magic here can be familiar to those of us who wield it but different."