westwhere | unkharil

unkharil | event

UNKHARIL

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Leaving the House of Manouk through waypoints, the party arrives back to the present time of Akhuras, in the jungle swathes of Unkharil. Those undergoing a canon update fleetingly detour into their home worlds. Old or new, you wake with a start, on high alert — body ablaze with static electricity. Some characters might struggle with vertigo, misted memories and dimmed powers for up to 48 hours, while their bodies readjust to no longer being lost in time.

You are in the care of a highly disciplined, if largely nomadic caravan — the refugees of most holy Alem, the kingdom built upon hell that succumbed to the undead. Karsa informs new recruits that the party assisted Alem’s king Deimar with evacuation efforts and with sealing the gates of hell, months prior. Their kingdom lost, Deimar has now taken his people to his mother’s ancestral grounds of Unkharil — a temple-fortress in a valley bordered by four tall mountains that serve as its protective walls.

Legend says the four mountains pillared the heavens, while snake god Kharil-asuk nested in the valley below to recover after birthing the world. So long was his sleep that cloud gods sent down the first bursts of lightning and thunder — frightening awake Kharil-asuk, who slithered into the jungle, never to be seen again. Since, sacred Unkharil has served as site of worship and coronations.

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King Deimar — whimsical, breezy, but cuttingly sharp — welcomes you in Unkharil, until the Merchant finalises your travel arrangements east. His people are weary, battle-worn and starved for kindness. Where applicable, some might optionally remember you under the false identity you wore in Arc V.

Seek out accommodations in the stone huts of the temple-fortress or the humble, often single-person cells that were dug bluntly into the mountain walls for hermit monks. Unkharil was deserted over the years as Kharil-asuk’s cult lost worship — but superstitious bandits have kept their looting away from temple grounds. You may still find furniture, pieces of clothing and worship, while refugees can spare clothes and food supplies.

TASKS

■ Assist with cleaning and reconstructing the destitute grounds of Unkharil, raising new stone columns and cleansing altars. Those with a connection to nature or the animals sense this is a quiet, revered territory.

■ Many survivors of Alem’s siege suffer from burns, cuts or trauma you can allay. The orphaned, widowed and wounded appreciate a kind word, company or help settling in.

■ Find a thin golden stream in the jungle, whose tepid waters may accelerate healing, improve your spirits or give you a day of staggering good luck. Bring back waters for recovering refugees.

■ Learn to use mountain scaling gear (rope-bound pairs encouraged) — or tame a 3-meter Kalioperus flier (useful for scouting and the Wailing below). Refugees and the few remaining temple monks may assist, but it’s learning by doing on the slippery mountain sides and with the thin-tempered fliers.

■ Largely warriors, Deimar’s people lost numerous troops defending Alem and now replenish their forces by teaching their youth weapons combat and light magic. Come dawns, join them in the courtyard to learn a skill or offer your own lessons. Alem instructors are strict, disciplined and martial — but fair. Characters who lack natural magic can learn to operate gem-triggered spheres that generate shields or a burst of fire/lightning. You may keep the gems after, but your character will need a few weeks of study to achieve mastery.

■ (Learn to) fish, hunt and forage to renew supplies. Beware flesh-eating fish in some jungle rivers. Ride an okapi?

■ Yet wary of traders, Deimar (grudgingly) invites merchants to revive their routes to Unkharil, with many caravans, errant scholars, priests, necromancers and sorcerers arriving to study his proposition. Some arrive all the way from magical jewel city Taravast — including an exuberant acolyte of old master Wrath! — and may offer exotic food and drink, or unique items. You may trade or earn coin by selling services or performances. Musical, art and thespian instruments can be found on the grounds.

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QUESTS

THE HEART(H) OF IT

”Rise and shine, lads! Heat of a jungle’s sun won’t be waning, no use waiting it out. The iron here’s rung cold too long. What little’s left of it. Shows the place was run by monks. They abandoned the smithy, once the fires guttered, and the mines, soon as the mouths collapsed only a little! Ha. Spoiled devils. Even left behind the ore already dug out. You go right in and fetch some iron… some copper, some silver… whatever yo find. We’ll get the blaze going. Time to forge. Don’t worry. We’ll make it worth your while.”

— Eitam, master forger

Deimar’s ironmongers revive the smithy of Unkharil but require precious ore and materials for manufacturing. Scale the steep mountain of Masida that walls in Unkharil to the east and infiltrate its abandoned mine to recover some previously discovered, but abandoned goods. Beware crumbling paths, rotten wood stairs and moulding ropes, as parts of the mines threaten collapse. Refugees supply golden fireworks that can shoot out to alert anyone within the mine you are in danger. Blacksmith rewards await.

PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS

Visiting merchants are willing to resume trade, but have ongoing safety concerns.

■ Meet a first set of incoming grain-bearing caravans in the jungle and escort them on the last six-hour leg of their voyage to Unkharil. These are hefty and slow wagons, frequently targeted by bandits who dam their paths or pretend they are wounded, while their brothers attack from tree outposts.

■ Destroy the encampments of the vicious jungle-based Red Claws bandits. These outlaws typically attack in groups, share nightly meals and drink to strengthen their ties, providing excellent ambush opportunities. They cover their faces with a cinnabar or blood print of their leader’s palm.

■ Hold talks to appease the merchants Balthazar (easily impressed by shows and the arts) and Anathula (who wants a clear business pitch). Give diplomacy your best!

THE WAILING

”… they were so happy, so holy, then why do they shame themselves with tears now? You must be wondering. The truth does not honour us: first, Unkharil’s priesthood only accepted brothers from among those who survived snake’s poison. But the chosen were few, and the lands needed tending. Then, Unkharil accepted brothers from men of great skill, literacy and wisdom. But the learned were few, and the lands needed tending. Then, Unkharil accepted orphans, survivors of the jungle, men of the snake’s vision. But wanderers were few, and the lands needed tending. And soon, what recruits Kharil-asuk did not provide, in his mercy — his priesthood took… from the breasts of widows, from pillaged homes, from bandits. They kept even the most unwilling.”

— groundsmaster Kayik

Unkharil’s new residents soon find their beauty sleep disrupted by nightly wails, projected from several of the monk cells dug into Mount Nathadi, which walls in Unkharil from the south. These are the ghosts of former monks, whom you can appease by scaling the mountain and cleaning their cell, recovering their bones for burial (where applicable) or providing a minor service for the ghost (your choice of what the monk might desire: perhaps the recitation of a poem, an update on the weather outside, a good deed, etc.) Many of the monks were especially devoted to Kharil-asuk and to theories of reincarnation — for the lives of men are to the soul like a snake shedding its skin — and may impart you their wisdom.

WATER MY CROPS

Help Deimar’s people to revitalise local soil, seed gardens and crops, build dams and redirect jungle rivers. Water or lunar tide sorcery also work. Alem refugees were primarily warriors and will need you to illustrate the basics of gardening and land care.

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TO DAYS GONE BY

To welcome the start of their new lives, the refugees hold two nights of celebrations. During the day, you prepare tall bonfires or purify the lands with incense and sage-infused water, finding you are readily welcome in every home.

■ The first banquet night (OOCly on 25 August) pays homage to the lost: the survivors of Alem remember the siege and encourage you to speak of your own dead. Letters of penance, love or remembrance are written to the dead, read by the witness of your choosing and burned in bonfires. Heavy, syrupy and thick drink abounds.

■ The second banquet night (OOCly on 5 September) honours the living: everyone must show and express gratitude to someone alive, for any reason. Grit your teeth and offer thanks.

SERVANTS OF AFIRU (warning: snakes)

”There was no strength left in the bones of Kharil-asuk, after birthing the ground and the sky and the moon, and man and his mountains. And the first son of his likeness paid the price: brave white Afiru, small and feeble, but how proud he was! And the dozen men who caught him, not knowing his right divine, thought they did him a kindness to cull his pain young: to set him on a slate of stone and cut him in small parts, and eat of him for their dinner. Fools! Each bite of Afiru took root within them! Come morning, a dozen men woke in the image of Afiru: half snake, half human, beastly and cunning, their roiling bellies only quenched when they ate of their brothers. So, Afiru seeded his curse, and that same stone plate is now his altar: and just as he washed it with his life’s blood for men, so too must men now pay the price of bleeding.”

— old village tale

Within the jungle depths sleeps the minor, ruined temple of serpent god Afiru — malicious son of Kharil-asuk — whose mind-thralled servants abduct hapless innocents as sacrifices to the deity’s naga emissaries. Infiltrate the decayed temple to ruin Afiru’s altar — releasing his servants from their thrall and ending his worship. The naga priests are half beasts, half men, but deathly silent and possessed of fiercely sharp and venomous claws and fangs. If poisoned, your wounded limb swells, then numbs, then darkens as the toxin spreads through your body. You have 12 hours to get back to Unkharil, increasingly groggy and stiff, and drink a cure — or may pre-emptively carry a few doses, going in.

A HUNDRED MOUTHS (newcomers only)

Large stone gates carved into the northern mountain that walls in Unkharil hide an ancient granary whose wares could allay starvation… and interest visiting merchants. To open the doors, you must fit missing ruby beads back into the gate’s carvings. The gems, you learn, were picked out and dragged away by feral Kalioperus fliers — larger and more vicious than the ones you ride — and taken back to their nests at the very tip of Unkharil’s walling mountains. Report your ruby finds — rewards await.

ANOINTED (warning: snake)

”I saw him! With my mind clear, and my eyes shut, and my heart open. And he was beautiful! I ran in high grass, and my feet tore, and my dress ragged, and do not listen! I was not as the others are, greedy. I wanted nothing, nothing! He asked, ‘Daughter, what do you wish of me?’ And I said to him, ‘Only to see you.’ And he said, ‘So be it.’ And after mother Moon rose, and the good rain downed, and it was silence in this world he gave us, but for this breath, that was the murmur of the skies! No vastness greater than the drums of his heartbeat, and his sundered gaze: one eye, it was blood, and the other gold. And together, they saw me. He saw me. And he loved me! So he gave me the silk of his shed skin, to remember him by. In the morning, old women say, hunters found me in the jungle, stroking a piece of old, mouldy rope. But I know, it was him, it was the Father. And he saw me, as they do not see him”

— Laila, weaver

Deimar inherited his mother’s lands, but his uncles are likely to contest the claim of a pauper king with a feeble army. To legitimise his rule, Deimar wants the blessing of snake deity Kharil-asuk. The few remaining locals of Unkharil say the great serpent may be seen on stormy nights with lightning and thunder by those who wait at night in the jungle, after purifying themselves with meditation or partaking of ‘mind-cleansing’ asuk — a strong drug that triggers hallucinations and prophecy. The enormously large serpent body of Kharil-asuk — two-kilometres long, 100 meters wide — slithers before his chosen and must be chased into the depths of the jungles, no matter the animal and bandit dangers, before it disappears.

Inquisitive and untamed, but not necessarily malicious, Kharil-asuk often seeks to shrug off his pursuers, camouflaging in the landscape. He speaks as a voice in the heads of his pursuers, assessing them with questions about true worth and what entitles men to land, wisdom and nobility. He may attempt to drive those he deems unworthy for their past sins (betrayal, murder) in the path of mortal danger (cliffs, bandits, traps). Anyone can chase Kharil-asuk and speak with him. You can still sign up for a RNG to receive his blessing.

NOTES

■ Newcomers may be introduced to the large undead dragon, now bound to the party since Arc V. Formerly a tormentor of Alem, she keeps her distance and flies outside of Unkharil for now.

■ This downtime event lasts until 15 September and is followed by Arc VII. Pace yourselves and engage in as much or as little as you want, quests-wise!

QUESTIONS

NPC INBOX

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

OPTION ONE - TO THE DEAD

Jacob's as far as he can be from the celebration. If you can call it that. He's not one to think back on those who have passed, be it by his blade or some other way. It's not exactly a great trait for an assassin, tends to bog them down, make them feel... guilty.

He takes another drink from the cup he'd been given. It's beer, of a sort. A little more herby than he's used to, but he drinks it, even so. If he's drinking, he doesn't have to talk. And there's a lot of other people talking, so he's content to listen.

OPTION TWO - TO THE LIVING

Now the living are easier. There's plenty of people he's glad are living. Evie, he supposes, although she's a bossy swot. Henry, although he's a love-sick fool. And Roth. Roth who comes up with wonderful ideas, who knows Jacob's talents and sends him out to do work he's skilled at. Roth who doesn't blame him for every little mistake. Roth who appreciates a job well done.

He misses the old bastard. What would he think of this place? He'd probably be all over these tales of old gods and rubies. He pours himself another cup, looks across the table and sees someone with their cup mostly empty, and refills theirs too.

"Who are you thankful for then?"

There's alcohol, and so Wen Kexing is here.

It's not the greatest of drinks, and certainly not at all like he's used to, but it leaves him feeling a little warm and fuzzy and that's all that matters in the end. Because it has been longer than he would like, being here, separated from his little family, and with these banquets so heavily focused on similar topics he's feeling ... maudlin? Yes, maudlin.

He almost misses Jacob's question, so focused on his thoughts and his cups, but when he looks over he immediately snaps to attention. "Ah?"

The other man's dress is curious, but then again, Wen Kexing has seen enough of the crowd gathered, his robes aren't exactly blending in. At least it gives him something new to look at anyway, and so he offers Jacob a smile.

"My Zhiji, certainly. Though if he were here he wouldn't be offering me the same courtesy. His silly disciple. My own unruly charge. Those are the first that come to mind." Then, more curious, "And you?"

Jacob feels a little bad for making the man start, he was clearly lost in thought. Probably thoughts of home, as Jacob has been. He wonders where home is for this man, bur he could hazard a guess to say somewhere far away from London. But then again, there's plenty of Chinese people in London now, even a little area of the river bank they've made home. It's not a nice place, but the existing inhabitants of London haven't let the Irish or the Germans or the Indians live anywhere nice either. But nice is a relative term for most Londoners...

He blinks, a word he doesn't recognise bringing him back to the here-and-now. He doesn't think it's English or German or French, and the odds are it isn't, but he also doesn't have a clue if it is a name or a title or something else. So he simply nods. He doesn't need to understand, he supposes, to appreciate that this man misses them.

"I was thinking about my sister. She's probably complaining that I'm not pulling my weight, disappearing like this." He says, and then correcting himself, "Although she's probably pleased I'm not there so she can do everything her way."

He raises the cup to his lips for another swallow, cutting off the thoughts about whether he's missed or not. He's not drunk enough for that yet.

"Are there people here? I mean... have you been here long enough to appreciate the rest of our little group?"

He has to smile, when Jacob starts talking about his sister. Gu Xiang is as close to one as Wen Kexing will ever get, even with their complicated maid-sister-daughter relationship. He has absolutely had her whining that he's not doing enough, but he's usually more than able to remind her of who's in charge when it comes to that. He thinks if she got brave enough to nag him properly it would be very annoying.

Possibly wonderful, but still annoying.

"Mm. I suppose. Lan Xichen has been kind to me, but as to your other question, no. I arrived at the house, and now here. One is infinitely more pleasurable." Because at least here he can find alcohol. He offers up a smile of greeting instead of a bow, already certain that the customs he has to adhere to at home are not all that well-known. "My name is Wen Kexing. Have you been a part of the group for long, or are you as unlucky as I am?"

"I've not had the pleasure of meeting... Lan Xichen?" He tries to pronounce the name as easily and naturally as the other man does, with what he suspects is little success. "I've not met many people here, not properly. I arrived back at that... they did call it a house, didn't they? The House of Manouk. No bloody clue who he is but he's got the strangest bloody house I've ever seen."

Underground and full of... things. Unpleasant and impossible things that back home, Jacob knows aren't real. Can't be real.

"But you're right. I'm glad to be out of that mess. For a while, I thought it was all just a bad dream. Its gone on too long for that now."

He raises his cup, a little salute of greeting, wanting to enjoy something more pleasant than those memories. "Frye. Jacob Frye. I don't think anyone around here is from the same place I am. Or if they are, not the same time."

There's a little twitch of his lips at the semi-mangled pronunciation but Wen Kexing doesn't mention it. The heavens know he's had a hard time following some of the names around here too. It's a learning curve for everyone. "Ah, well if you see a man in blue robes, broad shouldered, pleasant smile, friendly countenance, then you should say hello. He's been very helpful."

Not to mention that Wen Kexing feels Lan Xichen is very lonely. He could do with more people, he's sure.

At Jacob's mention of the house he laughs, "Did you run into the kitchen ghosts? They weren't so bad. Demanding, but at least they did less wailing than the one in the bathroom."

"Alright, with your regards then." Jacob replies. If he does see such a man, he might well say hello, or save him from vines, statues, ghosts or bandits, whatever turns up first. In this place, it seems highly likely such an occurance will happen sooner rather than later and so far, it's how he's met most people. In fact, Wen Kexing is the first person he's really met, calmly sat down and not running or fighting something.

Perhaps they've both just arrived at a bad time.

"Bathroom," He replies with a little wince, and a big gulp of booze to wash away the memory. "Sat in the bath tub like I'd walked in on her abulsions. But she was usedful in finding those devices we'd been sent after."

"She didn't help me!"

Mock offended, not very serious at all with his smile curving up at the corner. Wen Kexing had primarily ignored her as he searched around the bathroom, but in his defence it had come after he'd been hijacked by the ones in the kitchen. "Actually, neither did the others. They made me cook for them instead, sealed the door with their magic for half a shichen. Though I suppose in the end the tokens hardly came to anything. After all, we're still unwilling visitors."

Oh, they might have helped get them out of the House but Wen Kexing would much prefer to be home and so he will continue to seethe with indignant rage. Instead of letting that shine through though, he takes a gulp of his drink and then looks to Jacob, "Did anyone you met tell you you've been here before?"

The offended tone, dramatic as it is, makes Jacob laugh, a soft chuckle accompanying a grin as he looks across the table at his companion.

"They sealed you in? Kept you trapped? Bloody hell fire. How did you get out?"

He had no idea that they were actively holding people against their will- but this place is doing that to them, here and now. It makes him eager to get out, get back to home as quickly as he can. He doesn't love London, but he willingly went there.

He is jerked from those thoughts by Wen Kexing's next bombshell, and it's a good thing he wasn't drinking at that moment.

"You what? Have you?" Jacob is sure he never has been, but maybe this man knows how to leave if he's been and gone before.

"Oh, I had to finish the soup. Or the stew. Honestly, I'm not sure what it was they were having me cook and I say this as someone who knows my way around the kitchen. Whatever it was, their list of ingredients was ... imaginative."

He'd done his best to salvage it, but in the end it had not been fit for human consumption. Wen Kexing, who knows hunger, had not even dared.

"Apparently so," There's a moment where he sounds incredibly bitter about all of it. Lan Wangji's comment has clearly weighed upon him for the spate of days he's been held here, "Twice, before. No memory of it. No recollection of the people who apparently know me. I'd wondered if it was a universal experience but, perhaps not."

"Such as?" Jacob quirks a brow, inviting Wen Kexing to go on. What are imaginative ingredients? He's curious, and while he knows he might regret that, there's also a lot of things the starving poor of London will eat, because there is no other choice. He knows there are some moral limits, but do ghosts share the same human concers?

But the curious look disappears when that unhappy tone makes its appearance. This man has clearly been through the wringer, and Jacob feels a pang of sympathy, even if he hasn't experienced the same. That he knows of.

"I've not been told anything like that. But if it's true, if some of us, all of us have been here before, maybe that means finding a way out is possible. Easier than we might think. And if you don't remember your time here... you can go home without remembering this place. Sounds better than the alternatives." He'd rather not be here at all, but if he can go home and forget this place? What is there to lose?

"I don't know about you, but... where I'm from, there's no... other places. Fae realms or whatever you might call this." But there's also things many people don't know about, like the First Civilisation. Could they have created something like this?

"Oh, you don't want to know. Things like the mould scraped from the windowpane and bits of human hair. I did half wonder whether or not it was a game to see what they could have me put in it but, well." He'd denied them as many things as he possibly could, anyway. The meal had gone untouched in the end, and he'd made his escape shortly thereafter. "Thankfully this place has better culinary habits. Have you been to the market? They have well-made snacks."

Which is a ringing endorsement from Wen Kexing.

But the topic of memory is more intriguing and so he leans into that instead, "Do you think so? That's interesting. I confess I'd rather know than not," Jacob would probably be one of those that accepted the soup of oblivion without question, and while he vaguely understands the sentiment he's violently opposed to it himself. "But they do say ignorance is bliss."

He hums a little, thoughtful.

"Maybe you just haven't seen them."

Jacob must be a very strange person, because whenever someone says you don't want to know, instantly he really, really wants to know. Thankfully, Wen Kexing doesn't keep him in suspense and lists the strange, and very unappetising ingredients immediately. They don't make his stomach twist, but maybe that's because he doesn't try to imagine either of those things.

"Market? No, I've not. Should, since that Merchant bloke seems to play an important role around here. Do they just set up stalls somewhere?" He asks, glancing around the spot where this feast is being held. "There are some things I need but- ah. I don't think I've got money, come to think of it."

But the conversation turns elsewhere, and Jacob takes another swallow from his mug and refills it again.

"There was a man back home, he had what he called a Ghost Club, wanted to try and prove one way or another ghosts and things were real. Roped me in a few times, but never found any proof. We could have been looking in the wrong spots, I suppose. But I just think it's people's imaginations or trickery. And certainly nothing like what we saw down there."

TO DAYS GONE BY

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To the Dead

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