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

– i. arrival (for

serio)

[ For a person as used to the rock of the ocean as she is, the way the carriage she wakes up in bumps along on land is disconcerting, enough so that Nami ignores the persistent sun-induced ache in her head in favor of slowly cracking her eyes open. She casts a discrete look around through her eyelashes, not yet wishing to appear alert if it was better off not to. The weight of her rucksack’s strap on her shoulder is comforting, considering there’s almost nothing else familiar around at first glance until her eyes land on a shock of green hair. Not a straw hat, but it's a start. Filled with relief and somewhat more at ease about moving after spotting a few conscious captives standing around in their rolling cage, Nami tucks her bag under her arm and moves closer.

He’s unconscious, but he’s alive - she’ll take it. After settling beside Zoro on the wagon’s floor, she wastes no time and spares no delicacy in the way she starts poking his arm, repeating his name quietly. It’s probably only slightly less abrasive than being woken up by Luffy, but, who cares? Thus far she hasn’t spotted their other three crew members, and unless she’s mistaken (and she rarely is about things like this) they’re in some serious trouble. ]

Wake up. [ She pokes him again, long and hard, like his shoulder’s a doorbell, and she’s not leaving without an answer. ]

– ii. proscription (tavern's version) (spoilers for s1)

[ A rough and tumble tavern full of shady criminals with pockets full of secrets?

They might as well have rolled out the red carpet. It’s a dangerous, dimly lit bar, but she’s situated herself in hundreds of those, being in a new world is pretty bad, but it’s nothing compared to the places she’s had to insert herself into while hustling berry. Nami will survive, it's what she does best.

Right now Nami’s surviving while posted up at the bar, half a drink idly hanging in her grasp as she surveys the room, her attention lingering on the tables where cards are being dealt and dice are being rolled. The sharp smell of wine and pickle juice as a glass for the person beside her is slid across the bar makes her turn her head sideways, regarding them passively. ]

I wouldn’t if I were you. [ Her gaze flits from the pin Karsa’s told them to look out for, which denotes someone else from the group to the stranger’s face, tipping her chin towards the glass. ] Unless you like vinegar. [ Yes she’d been offered one already, and yes she’s tried it. She’s not going to talk about the experience, just try not to look too disgusted as she does her good deed for the day and attempts to put the other off experiencing the local fare for themselves. ]

– iii. the rattling

[ Nami discards the fortune into her rucksack without taking her eyes off the golden mouse as it whizzes past where she’s seated to bring treats to the other onlookers. The show really isn’t her speed - brutal bouts of might and violence are things she endures when she has to. She won’t hesitate to fight, but that doesn’t mean she wants to pull up a chair and spend hours watching others do it, but the lure of gold is evergreen, and here in a world where her berry’s no good (the secret stash she’s always got in her sock, wrapped around hidden lockpick one of four proven useless), it’s tempting to just follow the mouse and see where it goes.

Gold is good everywhere, and, maybe it’s got friends.

There’s a cover story already assembling itself in her mind as she picks her way after the mouse, moving behind the rows of seats while she works out where in town she can get it melted down into currency, and if she should smack it against something to try and stop it moving before she shoves it in her bag.

It’s just as she reaches a spot where she’s sure her hand can dart out mostly undetected and close around the mouse that Nami realizes she’s positioned herself a little too close to another person. Her hand pulls back and the mouse zips past, leaving her scowling and rolling her eyes before she looks at them without so much as a wisp of sheepishness in her expression. ]

Do you work here? [ She hopes not, that’s a big part of the tale she’s gearing up to spin if she gets questioned about her actions. ]

– iv. wildcard

[ dm for questions or if you'd like to work out something else, otherwise feel free to seize the day and toss a start my way, i'm good to roll with any of the above prompts. will mark spoilers, but shoot me a message if you'd prefer to avoid them entirely. ]

Edited 2023-10-07 23:17 (UTC)

( The trouble with a beautiful woman in this kind of establishment where fleas, gore and human or animal vermin are served indiscriminately is — this is the third gentleman who approaches Hector with questions over the nightly going rate of his delightful feminine companion.

He's tried, valiantly, to suggests she pimps herself out, if anything. So far, his business qualifications remain undisputed.

At least, so far, these would-be pursuers have all discovered the decency to start their entreaties with bribes of hard drink. Hector, by now relieved of enough of his senses to philosophically ponder the bubbling, red-green-brown-swirling contents of his latest alcoholic gift, hasn't been put down by the crowds, the clutter, the occasional glimpse of severed fingers, or the liberal talk of someone's close relatives, culled last week — a little soured wine sounds almost attractive.

To hear a warning is not the same as to heed it. ) It can't be that bad.

( But he drinks, mouth virginal and wholly unprepared for the deluge of briny, putrid sadness that cauterizes both his taste buds and will to live in one fell, cloying swoop. Good God, it's in his mouth and somehow reeks. It's sliding down, at once liquid and gelatinous. It is, quite possibly, alive.

He thinks his innards have died and been reborn again, by the time he sets the cup back down on the table, blinking owlishly at the woman. )

...it was worse. It was... so much worse. How could it be so much worse?

[ Saying nothing, Nami purses her lips in a thin line as the man ignores her warning. Drawing on a short lift spent leaning hard on having an iron-clad poker face, she moves to lean against the bar while she turns to watch the stranger, lifting her own, safe, drink to her lips and having a small sip while the man drinks.

He's so revolted by it she ends up chuckling despite herself, nodding along with everything he says. ]

They got me my first round. [ Another sip and she's setting her glass down, waving for the bartender to bring the bottle and another glass. ]

So, you've been in this place for long? Know anything about those people playing cards over there? [ There's a good chance he's as new to this place as she is, but, might as well see what she can find out before she heads over to try and hustle some of those lists Karsa's told them to look out for. ]

They reek. ( This, he can divine from a distance, without gifts of telepathy or a local acumen. Shocking what staples of human behaviours translate across space, time, continuums and alternative realities. He would be bereaved by the fixture of tavern stench, if he weren't impressed with this new patina of street smarts that torture and repeat abduction have finally afforded him. Will wonders never cease?

But then, they're people watching, and so he leans in over the table, carefully swapping his pickled nightmare for whatever dregs of decent drink's loitering at the bottom of one of her discarded cups. He toasts the men she points out, absently. )

And they'd cut throat for whatever's in your coin pu — for a quarter of whatever's in your coin purse. Or for fun.

( The truth is this, unwavering: he knows nothing. Should, but has failed woefully to equip himself. It's dangerous, embarrassing and stupid. Until he discovers raw material, it's all he has. )

I'm sorry. You're out of luck. They saddled you with a fool. I'm only here to find corpses. I was hoping — ( A pause, a cough. The decency to look away. ) It doesn't have to be yours.

[ Her lips set in a thin line as she turns over how she's supposed to take that comment about her corpse, looking back towards the gamblers at the far table with her eyes narrowed.

They look rough but, she's contended with worse for far longer, and from the way they're playing, she's already confident she can shake a few berry loose - or gold, or whatever passes for money in this weird place, the lists she's sure she can slip out of somebody's pocket for Karsa is just a happy bonus. ]

It won't be mine. [ Nami looks back to the stranger, a little more on her guard around him than she was moments ago. ] Hope it's not yours, either.

nami — one piece (la), test driving

tavern

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iii

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– i. arrival | warning for spoilers everywhere~

blanket warning for spoilers throughout the thread tbh

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– iii. the rattling

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the rattling

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iii

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iii; the rattling

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ii. proscription (tavern's version)

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