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

they sleep.

[nanny]

( it isn't a big boat, which means zoya has to be extremely clever in avoiding nikolai's eye, while keeping her gaze keenly on him. being aware that it's a childish action does not mean she's willing to compromise on it — if he sees her, he'll likely say something, and zoya will likely have to hear it. it's much easier, much better, for everyone that she keeps her distance as a silent, watchful bodyguard. it's not like nikolai is going to throw himself over the side and into the water, after all.

it's the karmic retribution for being a coward, she knows — nikolai is not. she reaches the side of the boat just a second after he goes in, the whole body of it swaying as she throws herself against the wooden side, seeing the deft swimmer of her king disappear like a golden ring dropped off a newly wed's finger. eyes scan the water. zoya, while capable of many great feats, cannot lift the entirety of a body of water above her head just to look for the forgotten trinkets inside, like the lid of a shoebox. she waits, not foolish enough to dive in after him, but reasons that if he isn't back in thirty seconds, she'll opt for foolishness in the place of a dead king, now the king of sea glass and kelp and frozen corpses. his color inevitability breaks up the dark monotony of the sea, all gilded and yellow and white, like a stubborn daisy among a leafy garden. allowing the wooden side of the boat to dig into her stomach, zoya reaches over and snags him by the collar as he breaks the water, lifting him not unlike a wet kitten and throwing him to the ship's deck. her tidemaker powers are clumsy and unsharpened, more the frail actions of a little girl than the powerhouse of a dragon she is. )

Are you alive and well? ( she asks it with a calm she doesn't feel, crouching down beside nikolai's body and entirely ignoring the treasure he brought up from the sea. she expects if he needs mouth to mouth, someone else will be less inclined to break his ribs. ) It will be a good thing to know before I commit regicide.

[ravkas]

[ few things, he's found, can cut through the searing dark — david's tonic, primarily, being the singular miracle of science that draws him from his nightly death with startling reliability. but there is also his dragon-eyed general, her hair spilling over her shoulders like the tumble of raven's wings. with the leather of his gloves sopping with sea water, he reaches up to twist one lock around a wet finger. ]

Alive. [ it comes out less confidently than intended. the attempt to clear his throat sends him into a fit of coughing, and he turns to expel a mouthful of brackish water onto the deck. only then does he catch a glimpse of what he brought with him — a corpse slowly gaining motion, a relatively unfriendly look in its eyes. ] I think you should get rid of that.

[ but before either of them can make a move, the corpse produces a tar-like substance — highly questionable — and splatters the both of them. nikolai rolls to shield himself and laments how filthy his coat gets. when he looks up, zoya has wrestled the corpse to the edge of the ship, but has tar streaked along her face, dripping past the exquisite shape of her lips.

he springs to his feet, crossing the deck in seconds and hauling the corpse over the edge of the railing. then he grips zoya's chin, gracelessly wiping at her mouth with his gloves. ]

Did you ingest it? [ he's seen what happens to the others when they do, the weakness that overtakes them. zoya will kill him for this, but chances are she won't be strong enough, which is a thought frightening in and of itself. he gently glides his thumb across her lips, pulling them back to reveal her teeth stained black. ] Regicide will have to wait. You're going to feel weak. Don't panic.

[nanny]

( amusing, the way two very different people can somehow appear mirror images of one another — nikolai's entitled disgruntlement to his splattered coat, and zoya's fierce outrage at sludgy gunk clotting in her hair. a soldier at heart, she doesn't hesitate to spring to action, more a being of outright rage than clever tactics, not that a cadaver is worth much wit in the place of strength. with nikolai's help it's back overboard and into the sea with all it's bile, rendering nikolai's brief voyage into the water a complete waste of time. as she might've predicted, had he conferred. had she made herself known to him.

all of it seems quite adolescent in hindsight. enforcing distance from him, running to his aid like a warsick maiden, not anticipating the attack of the vile thing he pulled from the trenches. not that zoya would face her shame in that matter — she could probably intend to say something venomous and harsh and only halfway charming, but then nikolai is roughly handling her, and she immediately wonders how shortsighted it would be to toss him off deck with their rotted friend, or if that lays out of the realm of a lesson, and into outright abuse. in fact, she has intention when she moves — limbs suddenly too heavy to respond with her usual speed, intent to shove him in the chest like a misbehaving child, but ultimately just wrapping around his coat sleeve, too sluggish to lift higher than that.

she looks at her hand there, as if it belongs to someone else. this weak, almost delicate grasp, her thumb too full of exhaustion to rub the embroidery at the cuff. her eyebrows pull together, but even that seems tiring. frowning, she takes a breath, before forcing all the effort she has in her body towards ramming her shoulder into him, not half as harsh as it should be, twisting her body to cut him off. )

I'm fine. ( turning, her palms lay flat on the ship's sides, shoulders slumping, head feeling heavy while she lazily spats the blackness from her mouth. she wonders if it would be so terrible to fall in over the side, sink to the silt bottom of the sea and into that festering dark. ) Go ... tie a rope, or something. Touch a sail. I don't care.