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

[ crimson rain sought flower is a ghost king. he is, in some ways, the ghost king, feared and respected by the heavenly realm, a much more ever-present threat than the other kings usually are. ghost kings find their way to power, after all, through slaughter, and while hua cheng generally prefers a less savage approach these days, the truth is that terrible, devastating violence is still very much a part of him.. and ghost city above all despises weakness.

the dead, therefore, receive no mercy.

there's no warning for xichen. one moment, he's fighting alone, and in the next, a massive cloud of bright silver butterflies swarm past him, their wings catching the moonlight and flashing in the air, leaving sparkling trails in their wake. they move like one creature, faster than any natural butterfly's ever been, swift and deadly as they slash through the animated corpses.

and just as suddenly in xichen's peripheral-- a tall, red-clad figure with a sword, the pair of them with such a powerful, malicious aura it's almost a physical presence. the figure glances the other man's way after a moment, single eye sweeping over him as more butterflies stream past him, wings harmlessly brushing his face and hair as they spread through the clearing.

if nothing else, it gives lan xichen space to breathe. ]

[ Sometimes, Wei Wuxian has reeked of the wrong sort of cultivation. Not precisely demonic but not-not, and it raises the hairs on a person's neck to hear him commanding the souls of the dead. Xichen experiences something not dissimilar when a cloud of ... butterflies rushes past him to inflict massive amounts of damage on the surging tide of corpses hauling their way over the docks. He shields his face on instinct and when peering over his sleeve he catches sight of the red-clad man who, for a brief moment, has him wondering if his brother-in-law has changed outfits, but then the glimmering tide of wings thins out and he finds himself looking at a one-eyed stranger.

Hairs rise. A shiver runs down his spine. That isn't enough to secure a conviction or opinion on, though. Once his hair is done being fluttered around with, he straightens in the quiet of brief respite that the other sword-bearing man has created, and even turns to face him for a quick bow. ]

Thank you, master. That was ... timely.

[ human. and being human, lan xichen earns more kindness from hua cheng than he'd give one from the upper court even at xie lian's behest. he doesn't care about humans, after all, but he doesn't actively hate them, and that at least leaves room for affection to grow-- if his god were to wish it of him.

he knows the effect he has on people in his form as master of ghost city--his appearance, the feeling of his power, e-ming's evil aura--so the fact that this strange young man finds it in himself to swallow down his unease and greet him earns a twitch of his mouth. the smile curls onto his lips, amused and a little impressed in spite of himself.

for a few moments more, he lets the silence stretch between them, quite unable to resist the small, sadistic impulse. at last, though, long fingers uncurl from e-ming's hilt, and the scimitar obediently sheathes itself. it doesn't leave him helpless by any means, of course, but it's a.. gesture. he means no harm to xichen. ]

The dead should know better than to trouble me, [ he offers mildly, lifting the same hand that was holding e-ming to let one pretty little butterfly land on his fingertips. ] My butterflies won't finish the job, but you have time to gather yourself.

[ Actions mean more than words, in Xichen's (extensively depressing) experience, which is fortunate because what the other man says would cause an awful lot of cultivators to get their backs up immediately. As it is, he is appreciative of the break and unhurt, so he cannot assume anything ill of this person.

Even if that scimitar looks alive and the aura exuded from the whole arrival is not exactly encouraging. ]

That is kind of you.

[ Because it is, whether it was intentional or not. ]

Sect Leader Lan Xichen, pardon the manner of our meeting.

[ sect leader lan xichen, is it? well. well, well. no wonder the wariness-- perhaps he has some idea of what his new companion truly is. is it mercy, then, or cruelty to confirm those concerns? ]

Crimson Rain Sought Flower, master of Ghost City. [ well, it's done now, regardless of its effect.

the butterfly on his fingertips shatters into flashing silver dust, dissipating in the air as the rest of the swarm circles and darts past them, leaving carnage behind and herding the dead away from the houses of the village. ]

Shall we finish here, then, Lan Xichen?

'Finish' is a temporary term when it comes to these undead, Master Ghost-Flower. [ Hey, that's the name he's going with. It's not his fault. ] But yes, let's take to the rooftops once these are dealt with.

[ Shuoyue bisects the creatures that rush closest and slices the limbs off others, all pushed back into the water with a crash of noise as he advances for one final assault (for now), one eye on his new companion here and there. ]

[ 'ghost-flower'. the disrespectful shortening of his name earns a mostly-involuntary bark of laughter. in a way, the way the young man has evidently relaxed in his presence is.. charming, he supposes. is it because hua cheng has shown no outward aggression toward him, or is it in xichen's nature?

he's certainly killed for less, and the thought does cross his mind--if he's going to be required to rebuild his reputation here, he should begin with his name--but he can all too easily imagine the look on xie lian's face if he ever discovered.

.. besides that, the young man is.. interesting. ] Aren't you bold. --E-Ming. [ the scimitar leaps from its sheath, spinning in the air once like an excited dog. hua cheng snatches it into hand and then darts forward, plunging into the midst of the storm of butterflies and corpses. ]

Edited (wait how old is this guy) 2023-05-24 17:51 (UTC)

Bold?

[ He looks faintly surprised (him??? never!) with a teasing curl in the corner of his lips that disappears once they make short work of the feral corpses. He calls out at once point, ]

Don't touch the black mold!

[ Lord of a Ghost City or not, he doubts anyone wants that stuff to come into contact with their skin. The young man's form is exceptional, ferocious in a way that favours attack without forgetting to defend, and Xichen tests how heavily he can rely on the butterflies when he whirls through them to de-arm a large, bloated beast headed their way. ]

[ as xichen swings, the butterflies part around his arm to allow his sword to connect, following behind to tear at the corpse's bloated torso-- razor-sharp against the dead, but gentle anywhere they brush against the human himself.

hua cheng has to admit that the young man is a skilled swordsman, aggressive in a way that satisfies the dead, hungry heart of him. he's not so vicious as a ghost, but he'd certainly make a formidable one, wouldn't he? of course, he's not so impressive as xie lian--how could he be, compared to a martial god of such skill?--but hua cheng is pleased regardless.

he spins past grasping hands at the warning, releasing e-ming so the demonic blade can indulge its bloodlust, and as the ranks of the dead begin to thin, he bursts into a flurry of butterflies, reforming on a nearby roof to watch xichen take down the last stragglers near this part of the waterfront. (the last for now, at least.) ]

[ It's rare that Xichen cant keep an eye on anyone during a battle, on his side or not, so when he's surprised by the other man bursting into butterflies he thinks, yes, perhaps that is an actual Ghost King, and he quickly finishes up culling the waste scrabbling for him at the pier-side. He hops to the same roof as his fellow, snapping the blood off Shuoyue with a brisk waft toward the ground, before sheathing her. ]

You have very unique abilities, Master Ghost-Flower.

[ It's not said disrespectfully, intrigued and letting it show. ]

Do I? [ he wonders, tone amused as his eye follows the sheathing of the sword. his glance drifts back up xichen's body to meet the young man's gaze, brow arching. ] I suppose I've picked up some things over the centuries.

[ the butterflies below, their duty done, whirl into a tornado of silver wings, shattering and dispersing like the one on his finger. it leaves e-ming alone to prowl the waterfront like a chained dog, and frees hua cheng and lan xichen's attentions for the moment. ]

I was watching your swordsmanship. You're quite ferocious, aren't you?

[ Centuries. The humblebrag gains a raised brow of respect, though he doesn't comment on it. ]

When needs be. My clan is descended from monks, we prefer to debate but do not shirk the art of the sword when agreements cannot be met.

[ Like with a corpse to stop it attacking; you can't reason with those fellas. ]

May I ask, are you recently arrived?

[ in all fairness, it's not that difficult for a ghost to live centuries: they're dead, after all. hua cheng's advanced age is a bit more complicated than that, though, given his rank.

.. monks. not all that surprising, considering, though xichen hardly seems the monkish sort. ]

What do you think?

[ He walks a little closer along the roof, discovering that without the urgency of fighting and adopting ready stances they are actually of a similar height. ]

I think you're very generous, helping out a stranger like that. Your butterflies are a wonder of a weapon and charmingly beautiful, they answered you so quickly, and your sword is ... an interesting one.

[ It radiates Vibes(TM). ]

Generous, you say? [ the amusement returns, smile quirking up slightly. there are certainly few that would say something like that about crimson rain sought flower, or indeed of nearly any ghost. ] Perhaps I was bored.

[ boredom was certainly part of it, he supposes, but the truth is more complicated than that. perhaps.. he'd somewhat wanted to preserve human lives. it's what xie lian would have desired of him in similar circumstances.

still, his glance flicks down to e-ming at the mention of it, then back up as xichen approaches. ] E-Ming is cursed. I collect such things. [ though he's perhaps a bit attached to e-ming in particular. if nothing else, the sword's reputation suits him. ] You're very at ease, considering what I am.

That's a fruitful kind of boredom, if so.

[ He doesn't think that was all that encouraged his Ghost King friend to rush to his aid and harbours no intentions of interrogating him on the matter, letting him keep his secrets and mystery since he isn't offering up any real answers. That's fine, too. A cursed blade is a rare thing and he makes a mental note not to touch it, if he ever gets within range outside of a fight.

Xichen smiles again, blinking as calm as a doe in her own forest (or a dragon who knows its own capabilities). ]

You have done nothing but help me, Master Ghost-Flower. Why shouldn't I be at ease? You certainly aren't a fellow cultivator but that doesn't mean you intend me any harm, even with your special talents. Does it?

[ he breathes out a sound that might be laughter, head tilting as he regards the young man. it sets his earrings to chiming, a surprisingly gentle sound for the topic at hand. ]

Not at the moment, you're right. [ there's no benefit, and perhaps more importantly, he's somewhat beginning to like lan xichen. as least, he no longer feels indifferent toward him, and that's something. ]

So? Are you newly-arrived, yourself?

[ The tinkling earrings are a pretty touch, he supposes to be distracting since everything about this Ghost King leans toward Unnervingly Handsome, but admittedly it all works in the guy's favour. ]

I am, I have family here. Wangji is my younger brother, you would know him if you saw him. [ With a glance down at his own white-blue robes. ] I don't know whether you need or even like to eat, but if so please accept an invitation to tea.

[ ... Oh! c': ]

It is in a cave.

Edited 2023-05-25 19:02 (UTC)

[ he takes a swift, sudden step toward the young mortal, black nails plucking at his sleeve, single eye sweeping over the robes in question before lifting to meet his glance. ]

I don't, [ he begins, amusement returning to his mouth, ] make it a habit of taking tea in caves.

[ his fingers slide away again. ]

Ask me again if you should see me once more. Perhaps I'll have changed my mind.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

the sunken | part i

u wanted butterflies

justintimberlakestaring.gif IN HIS HAIR

~aesthetic~

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