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.

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lost at sea

[He...shouldn't be here. Cal can't quite recall just where he should be, but there is an absence of weight at his back and when he looks up at the sky, he feels a longing, like the place he needs to be isn't on this planet at all.

But it's not like he can just fly out there, not on his own. So this soggy village it is, at least for a time. He walks the streets to get a feel for his current residence and to gather as much information as he can. While out, a gaggle of children follow him, whispering loudly amongst themselves. The clothing that has been given to him must denote a certain role in this society, as well, because some of the braver children finally approach him, asking him to do a trick.

At first, Cal is confused, but then he remembers the passport papers he was given. His cover is a traveling magician, apparently, and while he doesn't have a large repertoire up his sleeves, his powers can do what others might perceive as magic tricks.]

All right. You see that basket over there, across the street? Keep your eyes on it.

[Cal stands so that the children are gathered at his left side and his right hand is blocked from sight. He upturns that hand and the lid of the basket begins to float above it. The children all gasp and start to jump up and down, shrieking in delight while demanding more, more! So Cal indulges them, wiggling his fingers so that the lid appears to dance along the rim of the basket.

It feels a little wrong to use his powers like this, but it's also harmless fun.]

they sleep

[Cal hates mourning.

Of course, he suspects no one in their right mind actually likes it, but to then be told to pretend to be a grief-stricken relative of the people in these burial boats? That's even more disrespectful, he thinks. There should be integrity when dealing with the dead, not a farce for...for who? Who do the villagers want them to impress by faking it?

The past ten years, Cal has lost more people than anyone should, and especially in the last few weeks. The flames of funeral pyres are still burned into the backs of his eyes, a sight he can't push away when he doesn't keep his head in the present. At least these boats haven't been set on fire, but he still doesn't want to interact.

And yet, at the same time, what if there are no loved ones of the dead? Shouldn't someone still spare a thought for them?

Shouldn't he, as a Jedi, be the type of person to lead by such an example?

So he does, though he stands off by himself while the boats return to shore. He does not weep and he does not initiate any conversation. Just...offers himself for this vigil. Being the one left behind is a rising talent of his.

As the ritual continues and the boats are opened, Cal does grow concerned when there are no bodies inside, not even any evidence that there had once been any corpses. It doesn't make sense, but then this planet seems to run on different logic or even magic than any he's known. The galaxy is vast. No one person can ever know every single mystery kept within.

Still, he can't help but stare at the empty boats, his feet slowly dragging him closer to the water. Slow step...by slow step... His eyes start to fall closed, but he still edges closer, his steps taking him into the shallows, but he doesn't notice.

And then, a moment later, Cal sways and falls toward the water.]

wildcard!

[eyyyy hit me up if you want a different flavor or a different topic entirely!]

[ Stephanivien, too, has a hesitance surrounding any sort of farcial mourning attempts. Ishgard had been at war for too long, and had seen far too much death—now known to have been even more senseless, in its ways—for him to feel comfortable with pretending.

He keeps a further distance than most, in sight of, but farther away from the harbors themselves—ostensibly, should one ask, checking on his attempts at lobster traps—and prays, instead, since it seems more fitting. He holds a passing curiosity if the Twelve can even hear such prayers, when one is on a different star, but better to do so than not.

It is not until all the boats have returned, open and empty, and most of the mourners begin to disperse that Stephanivien makes his way back down to wander along the piers, glancing at the open coffin-boats before averting his eyes, disquieted, instead listening in on the chatter of mourners and sailors alike for hints of clues.

He keeps his gaze roving, settling nowhere in particular, and that is the reason he is able to catch sight of a young man stepping out into the shallows...oddly enough, not focused on any particular boat in specific.

He hurries his steps, and, as the man sways, Stephanivien reaches out with strength to catch hold of him, grasping the young man's upper arm and pulling with a firm grip, half-hauling the man up before he can fall face-first into the water and begins to try and lift him up on to the adjacent jetty. ]

Careful does it! [ He tries to get a better look at the man's face, brows creasing with concern. ] Are you quite all right?

[Whatever magic or thrall or something that has taken hold of Cal is torn away when he is yanked back to shore. He snaps out of it and, upon registering the strength of the grip on his arm, immediately grasps back with his free hand. It isn't often someone can take him by surprise, so his instincts scream danger, danger!

The confusion lasts only a moment, though, and Cal relinquishes his hold on the other man's wrist when it's clear he was only trying to help. Glancing between his rescuer and the water, he shakes his head, trying to clear it.]

Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I...I don't know what came over me.

[More securely on shore, he grimaces at the squelch in his boots. Aw, man.]

Guess I wanted to go for a swim.

Not what I would consider the best time nor locale for a quick dip, I don't think.

[ Stephanivien offers a smile, and his voice holds a note of teasing, but his face sets into a more serious expression very quickly after. ]

Do you... experience such compulsions often?

[ After just having witnessed such an incredibly bizarre ritual, only for one of his 'fellow travellers from distant stars' seem to get sucked into the water, Stephanivien is trying start parsing what is a function of the new locale. And watching someone wander into the water, fully-dressed, in half a trance is far from reassuring. ]

You're probably right.

[The water itself is probably fine, but there is definitely something weird about this whole situation. Cal really doesn't want to go through a replay of what just happened. What if someone isn't here to catch him a second time?]

Not really. At least, nothing unplanned.

[There's a difference between meditating and almost falling headfirst into the river. Even initiating some echo of an object he touches doesn't quite feel like that.]

It's weird, though, right? These boats coming back empty. Not that I'm an expert on every culture or species in the galaxy.

[Cal starts to take some more steps back from the water. He feels okay now, but better safe than sorry.]

As far as I know, bodies don't just disappear after death. Something has to happen to them.

[ Stephanivien gives a glance to the strange boats, and at the faint signs of scratches on the inside of the lid of the closest one. ]

They don't seem as if the bodies have lingered long in them, either, based on how such things seem to work here.

[ He crosses his arms, and nudges one of the boats that drifts nearer to them back out and farther away, before turning back to face Cal and head closer to the shore. ]

There seems to be something of an ongoing undead problem, on this star. I am disinclined to rule out such a possibility for the culprit of the disappearing bodies. Not entirely clear on the details, as it seems to work differently than the only cases I've ever heard about from my home, but... [ He tilts his head towards the nearby boat with the scratch marks littering the lid ] ...something had to have made those.

( It's one thing to parade yourself as the ginger saviour of pickpockets and cheap trick peddlers — and another to rally up a toddler crowd where Kanda, the eye of a grumpy storm, has to breathe around them.

Stay close, they said. Watch each other's backs. Stay out of nonsense.

And then there's the red menace, coaxing kids out like a snake charmer, while Kanda's snooping, taking the measure of the place, learning the lay of its ground — only to whip back, when a five-year-old yanks his sleeve to ask to be picked up to see the God damned basket, and really.

Really, he only picks up the little thing because, kicking and screaming in delight, it might drown in the bloody flooded streets. Can't help himself from hissing out, when Cal's progressing in his line-up: )

Lying to small squealers, you dirty animal?

( Yeah, that's right. Every crowd's got a Kanda. )

[The kids love this, their delight echoing down the soggy streets and Cal can't help but smile along with them. It feels good to be happy and kids' laughter is contagious.

He's progressed to lifting out what is i side the basket, which just so happens to be a rope. With the lid gently set aside, he manipulates the rope to sway and wiggle with a simulated reptilian grace. A snake-charmer wouldn't be an ill-fitting description.

Ah, but then the naysayer arrives and Cal sighs, slowly lowering the rope reptile back in the basket.]

Hey, that's not fair. At worst, they shriek.

[He is absolutely sidestepping the attack.]

They're crowding.

( How are there even so many children in a village that's drowning? Shouldn't they have been sent out, to evacuate? With the sick and the women?

One child, despairingly, approaches Kanda and aims a meaner-than-should-be kick to his shins. He grits his teeth. Scowls down until the little... girl pulls back in submission. That's right. Live to fight another day. )

We're here with — ( Grazing, nibbling and otherwise horrifyingly toothy pest-children. ) Business.

( You know. Locating a beacon and/or resuscitating it into decent function. That sort of every day, layman's miracle. ) Get to it.

Strength in numbers, or so they say.

[Really, if you get enough kids together, they could be quite forboding. With a couple already clinging to Cal's clothes, he feels a little pre-emptive guilt for when he'll have to actually move along. But he is going to have to move along.

He sighs very purposefully and pats the heads of the kids closest to him.]

My grumpy friend is right, though. We've got some work to do.

[The kids collectively whine at the loss of this new and interesting person, but Cal offers up some kind of compromise.]

Hey, maybe later, okay?

( His... friend. Like hell. Like hell he is. As if waving a stubbornly finnicky child like a weapon isn't good enough, Kanda adds a wealth of feeling to the depth of his frown, character, personality. Give it a little while longer, and it'll gain baptism.

...maybe later, says the idiot. Sure. They'll set up shop and sell daisies. Like hell (again). )

We're never coming back. ( Absently, to the tear-brimming gaze of at least one furious toddler. That's right, you little punk. Your new human chew toys are never returning. Suck it up. Then, to the man: )

Being a nuisance comes with the red hair? ( Somewhere out there, that Bookman sneezes. )

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the sunken | part i

cal kestis | star wars | tourist

they sleep

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lost at sea

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