westwhere | blood & sand

Entry tags:

blood & sand

Hi folks! Welcome to Eastbound’s last test drive meme and the second event of the Ephes Arc, stretching until 25 October. Applications next open over 20-25 October, with invitations required for new players (but not returning ones). Individual cast and game caps are off.

Test driving characters can use this space for both network and log prompts, as well as play both the newcomer and shared prompts. Enjoy!

BLOOD & SAND

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NEWCOMERS-ONLY PROMPTS

You wake to the creaky swaying of a large wooden cage, in the back of a cart. Balmy sun pinches your cracked, dried skin. Haziness and nausea assail you, your legs weak. Your supernatural powers are muted, due to recover within 48 hours. Several other carts trot by. You share your cage with a dozen others — largely farmers — and sacks of freshly harvested wheat, their bottoms stained dark.

The farmers point you towards a heap of rusted pendants that allow you to speak and glean local tongues, and access a network. They say you were recovered following an earthquake at a Hive — one of the agricultural clusters feeding the extravagant Senate-led city of Ephes. The Ephes army, the elite Hand, was patrolling nearby and is taking you to the citadel for healing.

■ Gather your bearings and distribute the scant water that Hand soldiers dole out — the earthquake, you hear, has dried the Hive wells.

■ You quickly learn why the Hand encaged all of you, as one of the Hive farmers starts to jerk, growl and shake, weeping black water as he strikes at anyone around him. Fend for yourself, before the Hand soldiers come to remove him!

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You arrive at the main gate of Ephes, where crowds vie for passage. Your carts are inspected, and an irritable woman enters each cage, checking each passenger — before taking you and a handful of others for ‘further customs investigations.’

In the back of an alley, she introduces herself as the sorceress Karsa — and says you are otherworlders brought into the realm of Akhuras by undead lieges of the Brotherhood, who seek to weaponise you in their wars. Her patron, the Merchant, leads otherworlders to ancient transport beacons that can deliver you home.

One beacon sleeps in Ephes, where the rest of Karsa’s party is scattered. The citadel has mysteriously accrued an elite, nearly supernaturally strong army that the undead lady Messalina seeks to borrow from the Senate, in her quest to free her undead companions from the Brotherhood. The Senate is yet to vote on her request.

The black water that has touched you, Karsa says, has previously been found where the undead rally. For now, Karsa gives you a little coin, passport papers identifying you under various civilian roles (player’s choice, but keep it Ancient Rome-themed) and an iron pin of an eye with a sun for a pupil to identify other party members.

SHARED PROMPTS

Decadent Ephes is overrun by rumours, after several Senators who intended to support undead lady Messalina were mysteriously assassinated at the banquet of prominent Senator Maximus Faustus — who, Karsa informs, is one of Messalina’s shapeshifting creatures. Messalina offers her protegees demonic hound escorts.

Hand army recruits protect official buildings, while the rich hire gladiators to watch their homes. Both move freely.

The Senate fears further retaliation against those who champion the dead. Senate leader Caius Justus distantly mourns the Senatorial murders from seclusion at the temple of the Chained God.

Civilians face increased tensions and whispers of curfews in the market. Crowds frequently quarrel over undead allegiances

Following an exercise in divination, priests of the city’s patron, the Chained God, spread word that the deity holds strong despite his Chaining, and he still wishes to destroy and rebirth the world.

Karsa informs the existing party that more otherworlders joined Ephes and wear iron pins depicting an eye with a sun for a pupil. She gives the party similar pins for identification purposes. Newcomers and old timers can recognise each other by their pins or engage over the network!

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THE PROSCRIPTIONS
OBJECTIVE: procure proscription lists.

You hear from the city crowds that partial target lists are circulating with the names of politicians targeted for bounties. Karsa tasks the team to recover the lists, which can be used as political currency. Find them by either:

■ Infiltrating a tavern run by the ruthless city gang of Livius Decimus and packed with unscrupulous bounty hunters, thugs and professional assassins.
A local ‘delicacy’ drink of wine and pickle juice is often inflicted on strangers. Brawls erupt randomly. Coax shady patrons to share target lists.

■ Visit the empty marketplaces just before dawns and raid the chained wooden submission boxes of news shouters, who receive anonymous tip-offs about fresh bounty lists. The boxes are pinned to the ground and tightly locked, but rusty from the cold seasons — allowing you to break them or pick their locks, while someone keeps watch. Tampering with a news shouter’s box is a jailable offence.

■ Turn in a finished thread to receive a clue!

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AT SEA
OBJECTIVE: investigate abandoned ships and rescue sailors.

One early morning (OOCly: Oct. 13), as you entertain sailors for gossip on the docks or fish breakfast, you witness the port authorities screaming for help as several small merchant ships appear abandoned at nearby sea for reasons unknown.

Lookouts spot no activity on board, while sailors organise rescues.

■ Row a small boat some 15-20 minutes to one of the merchant vessels. All merchant ships have roughly three hours afloat, as they slowly sink from numerous small erosion holes in their sides.

■ You find no crew on deck, and doorways to the cabins below are locked from within. Below deck, you find numerous sacks of wheat from the Ephes agricultural clusters, the Hives. A black liquid, thick and tar-like, is seeping out of the sacks — corroding the ship’s wood and creating leaking holes.

■ You find a handful of dazed sailors who claim a dark, slithering creature knocked them out. They were selected by Narula, leader of the elite Ephes army of the Hand, to transfer grain onto the vessels of the ‘merchant’ Matthias, much farther at sea. If you mention Matthias to Karsa later, she reveals he is a man (?) who potentially created the undead Brotherhood.

■ Seven sailors who did not know each other were chosen to man the ship. Eight men are in the room, meaning one ‘man’ is the assailing creature. You must decide who to release upstairs for evacuation.

■ Tips: the creature, disguised as a human sailor, has no pain receptors and isn’t afraid of typical dangers (fire, drowning). It does not bleed if hurt. It sometimes forgets to blink and increasingly, unwillingly, slowly morphs its features into yours, the longer it speaks with you. Lastly, the creature has a tattoo on its forearm identifying it as a soldier of the Hand.

■ Once found, the creature turns violent, dissolving into wisps of shadow and materialising once more to strike from behind you. The shadow creature cannot be outright killed — but you can lock it inside the ship.

■ Leave by small boat before the vessel sinks & claim a question if you saved sailors. Merchant vessels can be patched up, if successfully returned to port.

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THE RATTLING
OBJECTIVE: survive & explore the arena.

To stoke her popularity in Ephes, undead mistress Messalina organises a sumptuous gladiator game at the Colosseum (OOCly around Oct. 20), inviting plebes, patricians, politicians, soldiers — and you.

Gladiators may be hired (or coerced) to perform, while servants supply copious amounts of wines, oysters and honey pastries. A tiny mechanical golden mouse, passing by each seat, drops folded pieces of parchment with fortunes and riddles, ranging from teasing to morbid to philosophical or sweet. Pick up yours and make sense of it with your neighbour!

Politicians often interrupt the games to announce donations or make elaborate speeches. Toss peanuts to signal your discontent — or join in with your own speech.

■ The games start with matches between humans, but are building up to face-offs with reptilian demons, mounted rhinoceros and flying gargolyes whose voices thrall you frozen put.

■ During the games, you feel slight vibrations, and — if supernaturally sensitive — an undefined magical tension. By 15:00, this ramps up into earth tremors that worsen over 12 minutes — as columns and seats topple over, and the ground breaks in deep rifts, releasing black, chilled, tar-like water.

■ Crazed mobs rush for the exit, stampeding carelessly, while columns and decorations tumble down.

■ Dozens of the monsters brought to gladiate free themselves and hunt down spectators. Soldiers of the army of the Hand — disturbingly fast, strong and disciplined — intervene but it’s best you look after yourselves. Some spectators shout these Hand recruits practise some of the techniques performed by a recently missing gladiator — the Beast of Brenne.

■ Passing by the earthquake rifts, you see wisps of the tar-like liquid that gushes from them is gradually assuming the shadowy shape of humans. Stalking after you, they do not speak or bring you harm, but slowly steal your likeness and drain you of vigour and stamina. You get the sense that all they want is a shape. Encountering shadow creatures leaves you with a sense of bitter loneliness that only living company can soothe.

■ If you study the arena, you see the same black liquid is gathering around freshly downed corpses, slowly reanimating them. These newly-crafted undead struggle to walk and speak naturally and remember their lives, often unaware they died. Anguished, they beg help to escape, before inevitably succumbing to the instinct to harm you. Remind or convince them they are dead, and they withdraw.

■ The largest earthquake rift in the arena is overrun by the black liquid and by nearby undead. Within it, you notice a bloodless hand that seems to never sink — Enter a RNG draw to collect it and its clue.

■ As you gather your wits outside, you see followers of the Chained God rallying in the streets, comforting the traumatised crowd that all will be well now — for the Chained God’s destruction will be mercifully swift.

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THE QUIET HOUSE
OBJECTIVE: Explore the abandoned gladiator barracks.

NOTE: a Halloween special, this area is entirely opt-in and features several frights. Mind the warnings!

As chaos consumes the Colosseum, you notice the earthquake has destroyed a previously locked arena gate, revealing a decayed tunnel. The corridor leads inside a closed-off barrack whose doors and windows have been barred from the outside with wood planks and chains. Touch these restraints, and your unhurt hand leaves behind a fading blood print.

The barracks building is withered and clearly abandoned, with scarce furniture and a few weapons in a training room.

Several discarded torches stay alight on wall fixtures. Pre-prepared braziers have been filled with spirit-fending incense of sandalwood and sage. Explore for clues.

■ THE HALLWAYS ( cw: guilt haunting ): corridors flow into each other, often leading back where you started. You run into shifting wall engravings, some listing the name and ranks of Hand soldiers, or precepts such as GODS OF THE ARENA and BECOME AS STRONG / AS FAST, AS NIMBLE / AS GLADIATORS. A large portrait of Hand leader Narula is increasingly more scratched, every time you encounter it, while the painted man looks healthier, younger and stronger. Inevitably, you hear heavy steps — a deep-shadowed spectre, the Drillmaster, who starts to stalk you with slow persistence. Visible to you and your companions, the Drillmaster fluctuates between assuming the appearance of Narula and the distorted, monstrous figure of someone from your past, who heavily criticised or intimidated you. The corridor lighting changes depending on your proximity to the Drillmaster: green for safe passage, white to tread lightly, red to stop. You can make the Drillmaster disappear out of your way by facing or acknowledging whatever weakness (true or self-perceived) you have that has caused extensive criticism or self-doubt.

■ THE BATHS ( cw: doppelgangers): a long marble hall featuring a large swimming pool, now drained and filled with mould and debris. Steam overwhelms the room, except for a wall-length black mirror at the end of the hall. The more you look into the mirror, the more the black substance that covers it slips down, flooding the floors and also dripping from walls and the ceiling. As the mirror clears, you see your black-eyed reflection that suddenly screams out verbal abuse or plunges at you. Once you subdue the doppelganger (claim a clue), it dissolves into more black water, while the mirror shows scratched inscriptions of A RIGHTEOUS HAND SHAPES EACH OF ITS FINGERS.

■ THE DORMITORIES ( cw: membranous cocoons): hollow, empty, quiet, the dormitories sport strange membranous cocoons in the walls, from which shadowy hands reach out. You hear young wo/men, whimpering and murmuring that they aren’t afraid and want to change to make Brother Narula proud, before erupting into screams or laughter. Break the cocoons without getting trapped into their webs — only to find nothing inside, except stone dog tags, engraved with the names of Hand soldiers. On the floor, you find primitive tattoo needles and ink.

Luck strikes at sunset, when a previously barred door opens to release you from the house — back into Ephes.

NOTES:

■ QUESTIONS

■ NPC inbox (for test drivers)

■ Event title shamelessly pilfered from a gory gladiator show!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(ooc: canon point is post-2x02 so there won't be any spoilers for anything past that)

i. the cart

[The water is a good excuse to move about the cage - as much as one can move in a cage - and assess her fellow captives. Mostly local farmers, it seems, but one or two who stand out from the rest.

Elayne kneels by one such captive, holding out a waterskin as she leans in just close enough for a whisper to be heard without looking too suspicious.]

Have you got anything that could be used to pick a lock?

[A subtle weave to test the strength of the lock was one of the first things she'd attempted when she woke up. But the Source had felt frustratingly out of reach, as though she hadn't quite got the strength to touch it. She's read the accounts of what it's like to be cut off from the One Power, the endless oppressive emptiness that drives most to end their own lives. And it doesn't feel like that at all. So, after a moment of subdued panic, she'd made up her mind that she couldn't possibly be stilled.

But stilled or no, she is incapable of channeling right now. And that means she'll need help to get this cage open.]

ii. the proscriptions

[It's quiet in the marketplace, perhaps eerily so, the first hints of dawn's light starting to spill over the roofs and cast deep shadows across the cobblestones. But quiet doesn't necessarily mean abandoned.

With the air of one who expects to be obeyed, Elayne holds up a hand to caution her companion.]

We mustn't draw any more attention to ourselves than strictly necessary.

[The large wooden cudgel she's carrying by her side is Plan B.]

iii. the quiet house

[Having wrested a torch from a wall sconce, Elayne is carefully making her way down a dark, steam-filled corridor. The torch is accomplishing nothing but making her feel a bit better, the flame reflecting uselessly off steam that parts for just a moment, allowing Elayne to catch herself - just barely - instead of toppling into a pit that was once a swimming pool, now devoid of water. The thick atmosphere muffles her cry of surprise.

But it doesn't muffle the sound of something behind her. She whirls around, squinting through the steam, trying to see if someone - or something - has followed her in here.]

Hello?

iv. wildcard

[wildcard!]

( Feverish amid the aridity, overcome by the swaying and morose trotting of the cart, Hector is all but an occasionally retching part of the landscape, by the time the girl approaches him. She brings, at least, water — and, closing both greedy hands around the skin, he nearly neglects to hear the rest of her offer, however implicit.

Escape. His eyes, straining to focus, slant and wander the cage, their circumstances. He sees... hey, farmers, a deficit of amenities. A small dog someone hadn't the heart to leave behind. And bars, perhaps no more menacing than a precaution to avoid that they topple over and out of the vehicle, while they struggle with their footing.

...or so a more naive man — Hector himself, a year prior — might think. Now, he nods (seemingly, his thanks) between greedy gulps, before blindly fishing for the silvered brooch on his jacket, a trinket of neglected nothing. It gives way, unfastening with barely a graze of his fingertips.

He holds it out beside the waterskin. ) Thank you. ( And taut: ) Is there anything I can do to help you in return?

( Wondering ears will surely assume, for the water. )

[Gently, Elayne cups her hands around the waterskin and the brooch, and pushes them back at the man.]

It's better off in your hands. [She doesn't actually know how to pick a lock, and she's hoping that he does. Because if not, their only way out of here will likely involve violence, and she's less confident in the success of that method.

She nods to the soldiers that handed her the waterskin.]

I'm going to ask those soldiers a few questions. [As a distraction.]

( Oh. Oh. That's the game, then, is it?

She may be forgiven, fleetingly, for mistaking Hector for a man of the world. After all, there are moments when he frightens himself with short-lived, accidental utility. But then he's shaking his own head, accepting the pin back — and, to his shame, the waterskin — before murmuring: )

I wouldn't stoke my hopes for stimulating conversation.

( And then he's wilting back in the hay, broad back worn and seeping out the tensions of the past... twenty-five minutes of awareness. An exhaustive thing, to be abducted in a demented new world, but not the worst of Hector's detainments to date. His boots are still firmly in place. )

Sit down. Don't waste your breath. I can't help.

[Elayne sinks back on her heels, the disappointment she feels barely masked under a downcast expression. Her initial plan won't work, then, but that doesn't mean they're defeated. A new plan will need to be devised.]

Of course you can.

[She sits next to him, making herself as comfortable as she's able on the wooden slats of the cart with nothing but sacks of grain for softness. A far cry from the mahogany furniture and down pillows that she's used to, but she makes do without complaint.]

There's something you're able to do, isn't there? Even if it's not that.

I'm afraid we're in the wrong company to do what I'm able to. ( But he sounds altogether content with himself, accepting of his own limitations. Every prison has the possibility of becoming a fortress, when you wait long enough.

They need to understand their circumstances, to bide their time. Limbs still uncoordinated, head weighted as if a stone, he takes another swig of the waterskin. )

What are you? ( Before the lie: ) Your palms are too delicate, you've never worked the land. ( There is a distinct and damning deficit of blisters, of bruises to her. At best, she's a farmer's well earned prized, the kindness of a generous master. If she is a slave, she's mispurposed and new. )

It wouldn't be wise to draw any attention to what I am. [Heir to the throne of the most powerful nation in the world, and a novice of the White Tower. Either of those would make her a very valuable - or very dangerous - hostage.

She doesn't need to look at her hands to confirm that there's not a blemish on them. There's only so much she can do, absent a pair of gloves, to hide them, but she folds them neatly, palms down, in her lap.

Quietly, so no one but him can hear, she continues:] I would be able to get us out of here, normally, but I can't touch the Source. I don't know whether it's due to something they did to me or a side effect of however I ended up here. But we should plan for the worst; if they can block channeling, they likely have channelers among them.

Elayne Trakand | Wheel of Time (TV) | test driver

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iii. the quiet house

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