the sunken | moonrise

[groundrules]

THE SUNKEN | MOONRISE

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The final Arc VI event lasts three days ICly and until 23 July OOCly. Yancai goes back another two years in time to the Huntress’ visit, Miang-Si’s corruption and the memory-meddling rite of the ladies of the lake.

The party can choose to stay neutral, only heading to the House of Commerce to access its now-active beacon — or they can inevitably get mixed up in the affairs of Yancai and endanger the village’s time loop.

For a quick catch-up: the latest clues | everything about Arc VI.

BOAR’S HEART

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Rattled, on high alert, feeling watched and skin prickling from static electricity, characters wake to find Yancai has gone back another two years in time. It is now nearly dry, barring rare waterways. Mould is absent. The village bustles with activity: a heavy influx of new arrivals comes by sea, and frequent fishermen’s and merchants’ markets set up in the open road — enjoy fresh fish delicacies, discounted pearls, rare cloth textiles and dyes that include the unique Yancai green!

■ No more hauntings take place, and only one moon loiters above the village. Villagers still remember the party under their false identities.

■ Word has spread of the conflict between elder Quanze Tsaymien’s council and a beautiful woman who has taken up in the forests at the village’s outskirts. Gossipmongers say she wastes away in the woods weeping — while ground cracks beneath her feet, grass wilts, waters poison and animals drop dead nearby. Young men are drawn to her and are later forcibly recovered in a state of rambling, feverish exhaustion. Village healers gladly accept your nursing help.

■ Village elders have given the woman — correctly identified by the party as the Huntress — until the following sunrise to leave Yancai on pain of death. You have 24h to encounter her.

■ The forests are livelier than in previous iterations of Yancai, but you feel perpetually… watched, as if sharp eyes follow your progress. These heavy gazes may belong to the young men bewitched to protect the Huntress, or to razor-clawed venom-spitting creatures that hunt her.

■ You may find some of the aforementioned creatures bleeding on the forest path. They possess slightly above canine intelligence, cannot communicate in human tongues, and hesitate to let you approach — but nursing one might reward you.

■ The death-touched (necromancers, those who died or revived, or otherwise marked) may optionally feel compelled to join the Huntress. Physical distance dwindles her pull, as can your own magic or solutions.

■ Luck (?) leads you to a silent and bloodied forest clearing, come sunset. Here, two dozens of Yancai’s recent dead have risen alive and surround the Huntress, some battling the creatures that assail her, while she speaks to 16-year-old village beauty Miang-Si. There is a gaping, if regenerating hole in the Huntress’ chest; in one hand, she holds her yet-beating heart she cuts in several parts she wraps in parchment. She asks Miang-Si to bury these pouches near Yancai to ‘hold her power close,’ in exchange for permanent and ever-blossoming beauty.

■ Wait as the Huntress and her forces retreat — then catch up to Miang-Si, capture her, or find the pouches. The ground where they are buried is desaturated, brittle, nearly pulverised. Hawks and ravens circle above and plunge down to claw at intruders, or attempt to pick up children or feebler adults. To the magically or death-sensitive, the pouches emanate a revolting aura of withering death.

■ Beware if heart pouches were buried beneath aged, thick trees — their roots burst out like nooses and writhing spiders’ legs, looking to either slam you against the tree trunks or entrap you within.

■ Finding at least two heart pouches prevents the dead from rising in Yancai in the years to come! Keep the heart cuts fettered — touching these parts directly can overwhelm you with the need to consume this or other hearts, to compensate for the sudden and unfeeling… coldness in your chest.

WAKE, UNWAKEFULLY

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Sunrise finds the Huntress gone from Yancai — while waves of the dead rise from the sea to attack the village. Some come chained, or dragging pieces from the casket-ships in which they were set for water burial.

This is the first undead attack witnessed by Yancai villagers, who are largely clumsy, slow and petrified. Some sentimentally believe their revived relatives never died and plead not to kill them. Many are caught in undefended areas, such as open port harbours, fishing boats, markets — and need help to travel to their families. The Huntress’ spell starts dissolving by midday, with the dead largely pulling back into sea and lake waters

■ Beware the village waterways: touching the water replenishes the strength of the dead and saps yours. Look closely at the bottom of the waterways, and you find them lined with dozens of resting corpses. Some wake slowly, as they clutch shards of glistening black mirror — best to… use a very long oar… or plunge very quickly to recover shards.

■ Carrying a mirror shard puts the dead around you to blissful sleep. Those who possess a cut of the Huntress’ heart can take control of up to 20 of the risen dead. Necromancers can control up to 10, even without such a token.

MOTHER MOON

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Come midday of Day II, Yancai villagers start to move freely and reunite with loved ones. Waters begin to gently rise and flood the grounds, while the first spores of black mould appear on walls.

The first to help the injured are the washerwomen of Yancai, who favour the young and magically sensitive. You notice they work in perfect synchrony and have developed a hand sign language they can teach you. Keep an ear out, and one might entrust they are hedge witches, the so-called ‘ladies’ of the lake.

■ Join them, either invited or unseen, when they gather at one of Yancai’s three great lakes. Each lady picks up one of the silver coins tossed in the water for luck-bearing. Take one yourself, and you will be able to breathe and speak underwater, following as the ladies dive and swim through thin underwater passageways. Beware countless skeletal remains that line the lakes and sinister fish — both burst out to shackle your limbs, or sound the alarm about intruders.

■ You find the ladies have begun to shelter and ward the dead in lake caves, to avoid their rising up again. The ladies re-emerge in the forest, speaking of a protection rite they agreed with the elders’ council. They are not strong enough to break the Huntress’ lingering spell, but hope to later recruit nascent witch Miang-Si, who teases she has power from the Huntress. For now, the ladies have decided to create a five-year time loop, moving Yancai back and forth in time whenever the dead attack.

■ To achieve their rite, the ladies use large pieces of black mirror confiscated from the Huntress’ dead and the energy of the hunter’s moon that shines down a bloody red tonight. Those with a lunar connection feel the moon aches, disgusted by this violation. Even those unaffiliated with the moon feel irascible and prone to violence while under its gaze.

■ Interrupting the rite rescues the moon, earning you a reward, and breaks villagers from the five-year loop, allowing them to live their true lives. It also exposes Yancai to the dead, unless you remove the heart cuts. Co-ordinate and choose wisely.

■ The ladies conduct their chanting, rune-painting and summons throughout the night of Day III in the forest. You have a wealth of options to break their spell: interfere with the magic flows, disrupt the guarded ash circle of convened witches, summon irate villagers to raid, persuade Miang-Si to intervene, break or steal the rite’s black mirror pieces… You can also reach out to the coven’s strongest witches, who agreed to sacrifice themselves to become overseers in the time flux — the Lumberjack, Red Lady, White Woman, Man in Black and the Milk-Toothed Babes. You can still sign up for a RNG draw to chat.

BAIT & BEACON

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To take attention off the ladies of the lake, Yancai’s council organises a sumptuous masked banquet and charity auction for the victims of the undead attack at the lavish House of Commerce. The House has been thoroughly cleansed by the time of your arrival, with only faint, clumsy traces of blood, decay and debris lingering from the previous offensive.

On site, servants are still jittery from the undead assault, while openly armed guards walk the grounds and answer any small provocation. Be kind to the staff or offer sympathy for their likely recent losses, and they might let you in unnoticed, or offer a hand.

■ Anyone who brings an item for the auction or who can pretend s/he possesses massive wealth can join the banquet. Show up with anything you can brazenly talk up as elite, exquisite or one-of-a-kind — or perhaps auction your services?

■ The House of Commerce contains a locked room with the village’s now fully active beacon. The Master of Commerce has the only key-tokens to access this quarter, somewhere in his study room — pick a lock, sweettalk the staff, or work your magic to get inside the study and grab one of the rune-inscribed tokens. The study room brims with scrolls, globes, letters to and from the Dawn’s Reach Trade Company and maps of… Arc I’s Sa-Hareth in the west, where hand-written news reports say the dead are rising.

■ Back at the banquet, the richest wine and… relaxing herbs and powders are offered freely or sometimes slipped into food to ease spirits. Aiming for levity, participants don comical animal masks or play a local game of ‘bait or hook,’ whereby they approach you with the aforementioned fishing bait or fish hook in closed fists, asking you to pick one. Depending on your choice, you must ‘bait’ the audience with a song or dance, or ‘hook’ them in with a joke or anecdote.

■ Around midnight, attendants are invited to an increasingly competitive auction, punctuated by elbowing, loud voices, crowding and the occasional threat. Beautiful concubines might stick to your arms, asking to be purchased this or that (exorbitant) small nothing as a gift. Participate to keep up your cover, but beware landing in hard debt!

■ Most banquet goers pretend they are indifferent to the undead attack, but some question whether the woman of the forest was to blame — while others mention that the mysterious, far too independent coven of the ladies of the lake is meeting even now, and might be cursing Yancai.

■ However you spend your night, the witch Karsa asks you to infiltrate the House of Commerce by dawns and attempt to leave through the beacon. This will only be possible if at least one person has picked up a key-token…!

QUESTIONS

Comments

[thedreamer]

Oh, I lack many things but not that.

[ But, clearly rusty and distracted with first examining the wound more than leaping into treating it. Focus on the healing, Doctor.

Were his sonic screwdriver of any use at all here, actual healing and closure of the wound itself would have been possible. Were his TARDIS here, they could have carried the creature to it and administered aid immediately and effectively. But here, they'll use what they have.

From the depths of his pockets that are bigger on the inside than they appear to be, the Doctor quickly produces a plentiful amount of cloth as he moves closer. Since he's been here, the Doctor hasn't been able to communicate with any of the sentient life the way he usually would be able to — talking to anything from dogs to horses to slugs — so he's further hindered. But, between the pair of them, they'll see this beautiful beast through the worst of it. ]

Cloth, I can provide. And hope, of course, always hope.

[ He'll get as close as he possibly can now, starting the scale the tree now to close the distance between them. ]

Beautiful creature, you'll be alright.

[downswing]

( Cloth and hope. Two elements of an imprecise equation, each less likely to balm an endlessly flowing wound. He watches the Doctor scale the tree, then the creature retreat up, flinching, and the quiet, feverish rattling of the trunk —

And suppose there's a purpose in this for him, when he assists by throw-thrusting Bichen's blade in the tree, to serve as step for the Doctor's next step, then calmly calls her back to hand, before propelling himself at the tree. A crafty, breezy jump, and perhaps it is cheating to possess the natural talents radiating from a wealth of qi.

But then, they serve both — and, as the creature howls and snarls it warnings, its blood drip-dripping down in beads, he finds his purpose here clear: sustain this man before him alive. )

Hope that you survive the escalation. ( ...the creature, after all, is starting to kick down. )

[thedreamer]

Trust me, I've survived worse. Do have a bit of faith in me. And thank you.

[ For the step, the aid, despite how dubious Lan Wangji might be. And while there are times when the Doctor's boasting and assurances that he'll be fine and he knows what he's doing are really all just talk, in this case, he has far more to show for it. With reflexes far swifter than that of a human and enhanced sensory abilities, he's able to dodge his head so quickly back and forth that he might seem to have disappeared in a flourish. But he's there, still gripping the tree, still alive, still attempting to get closer all the while as he soothes. ]

Okay, little one — [ His voice barely breathless from the movement of dodging, the cadence of his words slow and gentle. Explaining what he's going to do, he hopes, will settle the creature. At least so it understands to whatever extent that it can. ]

If you'll trust me, we'll get a dressing over your wound. You'll feel loads better, I promise, and we'll get you somewhere safe.

[ Lacking the resources for stitches — and not something he would attempt here anyway — he can at least use his braces and the cloth that he has to do a very imperfect tie-over dressing. This isn't the sort of thing he does as a general practice; he's a doctor of many things (science and history and physics, among others) and he can diagnose and understand a creature on a scientific level far better than he can treat it, but he's not completely without skill, rusty though he may be. Knotting his braces near the area of the wound more precisely will help to stop the bleeding, too, he hopes. So he risks it, resting first the gentle cloth over the creature's wound, and then his hand, reflexes primed to dodge another attack if it comes. ]

[downswing]

What sanctuary?

( He hisses and it's a dark and liquid thing, molten, edges acidic. He feels much the parent Sizhui never required him to be, stranded to shepherd a brighter, beautiful soul towards the uncleanliness of practical conclusions. The creature stirs as the Doctor attends the wound, mouth coming to snap in —

And these steps of the dance, Lan Wangji knows proficiently, and sketches them out artlessly between them: sword drawn, blade interceding, caught neatly between the stronghold gate of the creature's teeth. He twists Bichen, and the careful rotation forces its jaw unhinged, metallic friction dissuading the deepening clench.

He suspects, as the Doctor toils, it will dive serpentine and expedient, to bite again. Perhaps Bichen's chilled exhalations ease it. Perhaps it is the knowing tension that exudes from Lan Wangji's own stance.

All the same, it — allows them to continue. And Lan Wangji, meat shield plastering himself strategically in the negative space between the Doctor and the creature's mouth, fettered to a tree, only murmurs: )

Less chatter, more haste.

[thedreamer]

Yes, yes, working on it!

[ That applies to both the matter of the sanctuary and the task at hand.

At times, perhaps — perhaps — the Doctor needs others to save him from himself. On rare occasions. Definitely not often. Nothing of the sort. Nothing he'll admit to, anyway. The ancient Time Lord who's saved countless worlds, untold lives — although he wouldn't think of it in those terms, he just helps where he can, hardly noteworthy — often can't be trusted to look after himself.

Of course, as Lan Wangji already knew and as the Doctor failed to consider at length, he can't very well dodge anything while his attention is on the wound. In an instant, the Doctor is well aware that he was nearly sandwiched within the creature's jaws, were it not for his friend — the precision of his blade, the swift protection that he offers, a veritable sentinel as they attempt to render clumsy aid to a beast they know nothing of, only that it suffers. The Doctor tugs off the front buttons of his braces, unhooking them, and carefully tying the ends together in a long, continuous loop to secure the cloth and at least slow the bleeding, preferably stop it. ]

There, that should do it for now. Not perfect, I'll grant you, but safe enough to move it.

[ He thinks. Ah, and then...where to house it, and for how long? ]

[downswing]

( Safe enough, the Doctor pronounces, and Lan Wangji, who has survived the lapses in the creature's patience for far too many heartbeats, takes this fine opportunity to extricate himself from the arrangement, pulling back just as the animal snaps its jaws down on cloying, stringent air.

A beast far too fickle, foolish and — ) Ungrateful.

( Yes, that, also. But then. the Doctor's deed is done, and whatever hurts have been abated seem to slowly ease the creature's temperament. Its tail uncoils from the tree's husk, muscles shedding their tension. It slides, and Lan Wangji expels himself from the tree, sparing the Doctor only a paltry, wintery glance — as he scaled before, he may descend now.

As for the aftermath: )

It may survive, if the forests are kinds. ( ...to a wounded animal, a predator that has already incurred the wrath of countless others across multiple attempts to inflict its own tyranny. Yes, it will certainly have a fine, fair and peaceful future in the woods — for the shi of time in which it will remain alive. )

[thedreamer]

I wouldn't put my faith in it. The forest being kind, that is. But that's also more than enough of you in harm's way today.

[ And for the Doctor's sake, no less, which he loathes. Far better for him to be the one in danger than anyone else around him. So focused on his objective to care for this creature whose allegiance remains yet unknown to them, that the Doctor's dedication to its welfare saw Lan Wangji putting himself at risk more than once, to keep him safe. He wouldn't ask for more, he wouldn't forgive himself were his friend to be harmed.

Untroubled by the tacit directive that he remove his own self from the tree (fair), the Doctor makes his way down quickly, though there's hardly any grace to his movements. He's all limbs, uncoordinated in the best of times. Miraculously, he lands on his feet with a flourish, rubbing his hands together in a moment of brief, self-congratulatory triumph before moving near to the creature again; his ward, as it were. ]

You go on ahead, I'll stick close to it for a while. It didn't hurt you, did it?

[downswing]

( And did it? Mere snapping, grazing of his silks. He searches his sleeves and finds none of his hurts ache-weeping, blood-bearing. No bruises on scavenged bone. Speed and silence have rendered him untouchable.

He should be, perhaps, more pleased than he is. The discipline of his mind and body was a gift and a skill, the grace of the clan. He has contributed nothing but the receptacle of learning others have masterfully inflicted.

Now, peeled away from the beast, breaking his fall on a knelt landing, then coming to rise — he is simply the product of Gusu Lan diligence. Their will, in this, be done. )

It did not know how. ( For all it certainly attempted. )

Yelena. Vanessa. Wei Ying. Myself. We were assigned a cave for habitation. ( A moment for him to question the Heavens why that was remotely a conclusion. ) The creature will fit.