unkharil | event

[groundrules]

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

Comments

[nochnaya]

[ The way he says it—why am I like this, not why do I feel this way or why is this so hard or anything else—breaks her hearts, a little bit. Her tenderhearted Jedi, who she knows too well to believe he doesn't still blame himself for Bode's betrayal, for Cere and Cordova's deaths, for killing Kata's father.

Too bad Greez isn't here to repeat the message that it isn't his fault, over and over again, until it penetrates his thick skull. In the meantime, she'll do her best.

She takes his hand in hers, her knees pressing into his thigh as she shifts in her seat to better angle towards him, to better see his face. ]

Because you seek out the good in people, Cal Kestis, even when they've done so much harm.

[ It's one of the things she probably loves most about him, something that doesn't always come so naturally to her but seems as instinctual to him as breathing. She squeezes his hand. ]

You need not absolve guilt at the same time as you show mercy, my Jedi. He can be both friend and enemy.

[deescalate]

[For a long moment he just looks at their joined hands. Her skin is always paler than his - a rarity for him, he knows - but marked confidently with the darker ink on her fingers. Cal still doesn't know what they mean, if anything aside from the aesthetic, but he certainly likes looking at them. And right now they're a good focal point for when he can feel his mind begin to swim among all the drink he's had.

Merrin's right, of course - she has been increasingly often as of late, if not always - and he knows looking for the good is why he does most of what he does. Sometimes he does it for himself if no one else. The galaxy is dark enough as it is without some speck of light. Even a speck can be enough. One star in a clouded sky.

But these last few months or so have left him grasping at air. Yeah, he's met people who didn't try to kill him immediately, which is always appreciated, and some he'd consider friends, too. But others...it's as if his words just bounced off of them. Dagan grew too obsessed. Rayvis was too loyal to Dagan. And Bode...

Bode was scared.

And Cal couldn't do a single damned thing for any of them. At least he had gotten through to Trilla before the end, even if she never got the chance to try again. But everyone else? No. Nothing.]

I feel like...like I didn't make a difference.

[And he can't do it now when they're all dead. He exhales heavily and picks up the pencil with his off-hand, hunching over to keep the paper still with his elbow as he slowly - and a little sloppily - puts Bode's name down again.]

But I can't carry around corpses all the time. I have to let go, or...or try to. I think Master Tapal would've told me the same. Would've been wiser about it.

[He folds the paper up as best as he can with one hand and, quietly - ]

I think Cere would've, too.

[He can feel tears well up in his eyes so he hastily shoves the heel of his hand agianst them.]

I dunno. Maybe burning a list of names won't do anything, but...

[He looks over at Merrin. He has to try, right?]

[nochnaya]

[ She nods, her hearts aching for him, and reaches up with her free hand to brush her thumb under his eyes, one after the other, catching his tears.

Softly: ] Cal. You made a difference. We have Tanalorr, and it will become a home to so many who have been hunted by the Empire.

[ He—they—couldn't save Bode or Dagan Gera or Cere or Master Cordova, but they still have a chance to save so many others. Her fingers slowly trace his cheeks, his jaw, the scruff of his beard, until her thumb presses against his chin as if to hold him there, looking directly into her eyes. ]

Keep the lessons they taught you, but let them go. You are right. You can't carry around their corpses. They are too heavy for the work we must do when we return.

[ Building up Tanalorr. Reestablishing contact with the Hidden Path. Keeping Greez and Kata safe. Sheltering as many Force-sensitives and their families as they can. Fighting the Empire in their own way. It's a lot to do, and it will take work, but that is their path now.

Together. ]

[deescalate]

[Merrin's hand is so gentle with him. The same hand he's seen decimate squads of stormtroopers and security droids and summon up her fiery magick, but still capable of this tenderness. Of course, Cal obeys her movements and he looks at her, even if his vision starts to get a little wobbly from the drink. Not enough to distract him, though.

Merrin has always had a unique insight and it's only developed more since she's been gone and seen the galaxy. She's wiser than he ever was, but Cal is grateful for it, especially now with both Cere and Master Cordova gone.

He nods in answer, then grabs his drink and quickly finishes it off. Grabbing the folded list of names, he stands up, immediately choosing to ignore how the world around him spins a little. A little too fast. Like he's not walking quite right or gravity has gotten...less? Less. Whatever. It's still tolerable, but he really should get this done before he ends up accidentally throwing himself in the fire, too. He looks over, back to Merrin.]

Thanks.

[Then he holds out his hand, inviting her to come to the fire with him.]

[nochnaya]

[ She watches him haul himself to his feet a little unsteadily, her mouth turned down in a small, concerned frown. It isn't like Cal to drink this much, at least from what she remembers—he wouldn't dare drop his guard like this, even for a moment. And while she won't begrudge him the opportunity to relax and loosen up a little—in fact, he probably desperately needs it—a tiny part of her... worries.

That he isn't drinking to relax so much as to forget.

But how could she begrudge him that either? Everything that happened before they arrived here—Bode, Cere, Cordova, the Path, Kata—she knows it hit him hard. Devastated him. Deremo, it devastated her too, but Cal—

She exhales, standing up and taking his hand, holding it tight. Wordlessly, she leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek, gentle and achingly slow. ]

Come. Let us give them to the flames.

[deescalate]

[There hasn't been any sign of the Empire here. Not a peep. Nor has there been any talk of Jedi or Tanalorr or anything even remotely related to Cal or Merrin or any of their family. This place has its problems, definitely, and it's not free of its own conflicts, but for him, personally, it's kind of safe.

A sense of safety can turn into complacency and a lack of awareness, but he's not completely off his axis; if something were to happen, he'd still be able to manage a fight. Maybe not to his best abilities, but as long as his feet stay close enough to the ground, things can't get too bad. Besides, this particular place their group has stopped has been relatively quiet, at least compared to his normal life. And then when one drink turns into two, and two drinks turn into three...well.

The alcohol doesn't make him feel better about everything that's happened recently, but it does make him feel a little...muted. Softer? Something like that. Merrin's hand in his own and her soft lips on his cheek help a lot, too.

Nodding once, he walks toward the fire and gets as close as he can while still keeping a safe distance. Letting out a breath, he tosses the paper into the flames, watching them engulf the list in seconds. Seconds. The same amount of time for everything to fall apart. Kind of fitting, really.

He blinks against the brightness of the fire and speaks quietly.]

Be at peace. And...help me to find some, too.

[He doesn't leave just yet, in case Merrin wants to say something of her own.]

[nochnaya]

[ Merrin keeps her hand in his as they stand in front of the bonfire, leaning her shoulder into his. As she watches the flames swallow up such a simple slip of paper, all in a matter of seconds, she can't help the wave of grief that washes over her, still raw even after a few weeks of time.

She thinks of Master Cordova, their talks over tea. His boundless curiosity about her people. His patience, his knowledge, and his kindness. And she thinks of Cere, as sister to her as all the ones she laid to rest on Dathomir. Cere's wisdom, her warmth, and her resilience.

Merrin knows that Jedi return to the Cosmic Force when they die, but still she hopes that one day, when she finally crosses into the spirit world, she'll be able to find them. ]

Peace.

[ She inhales, then exhales slowly, her throat tight. ]

We will bring what we can of it to the galaxy, in your absence.

[deescalate]

[They will bring what peace they can. Cal nods, trying to remind himself at the same time that he's just one person. A powerful person, all things considered, but still just one.

It's a hard pill to swallow when he feels responsible for keeping a good chunk of the galaxy supported on his shoulders. If he shrugs even a little and more innocent people fall to the darkness of the unknown, then is he still making enough of a difference? Merrin would tell him yes, as she had just done moments before, but it's still so damn hard to accept that his reach has limits. He's just one person.

He breathes out and, glancing over at Merrin to see that she's said what she needs, he starts to walk away, gently tugging on her hand. They've been here long enough, he thinks, and with the alcohol dancing in his system, Cal wants to lie down. So he leads the way back to the little stone hut where they've been staying.

Heading to their bed he sits on it and contemplates getting his boots off, but falls sideways against the pillows instead, his eyes falling closed a moment later. He doesn't move, but it feels like everything else does.]

Hey, Merrin.

[nochnaya]

[ As soon as they enter the little stone hut they've been calling home here, Merrin makes her way to the opposite side of the room so she can start getting ready for bed. It's been a long, draining night. Not necessarily in a bad way, but... still. She begins stripping off her leather jacket, then unlacing her boots so she can toe them off.

Cal has taken the opposite approach, it seems, collapsing on the bed fully clothed. She raises her eyebrows at him, unable to stop herself from feeling amused.

Just how much did he have to drink, exactly? It's not like she's been monitoring him the entire night. ]

Yes, Cal?