the harp(y) was a big winged lyre | event + test drive meme

[groundrules]

Hello, hello! Fresh out of the box is the action spanning 14-31 July, also serving as our second test drive meme (TDM). The event is broken in three parts: one exclusive to TDM participants, one that's for the existing crew, and a communal section, as... sparks literally fly, when characters cross paths.

OOC planning & questions are HERE. Existing players can use this log to party, or you can alternatively make your own logs & network posts. Our TDMers are stuck in this playground only, but — to replicate the game experience more faithfully, they can ask questions and briefly interact with NPCS HERE.

Tiny reminder: eastbound is an invite-only game for size control, but if you found yourself here, love the setting or the playerbase but don't know anyone — PM @ groundrules, we'll figure something out. You're welcome to make a note in your top-level comment title, if you're a TDMing newb, shiny and chrome!

TDM TOURISTS | OLD TIMERS | COMMON TIMELINE | NOTES

TDM TOURISTS

A great day to be alive, chipping manicures and clawing out of a salt mine just in time for a befuddled undead cavalry to whisk their visitors away, one by one as they're recovered.

TDM characters receive quartz stones that function as translation and (network) communication devices, before they are presented to Haltham.

Cursing his luck, Haltham informs newcomers they are in the frozen citadel of Sa-Hareth, controlled by undead warlord Anurr. Characters were wrenched free from the mines of deposed death king Unhalad and... two weeks behind the eastbound caravan that is the Merchant's troupe — their one ticket home.

IS THERE AN ACCOMPLICE IN THE HOUSE?

As Haltham brokers their getaway, newcomers are foisted on Caspar and the Lucky Hands, a gang of thieves set to hijack a port delivery of silvered powder. The Hands handle the theft on D-day, but pairs of newcomers are each saddled with a stolen pouch to transport furtively across Sa-Hareth.

They must escape frequent sentinel searches and other petty thieves to rendez-vous within a day at the dark, dusty and overpriced Hog & Mead tavern in the Merchants' Arena.

Anyone caught by local enforcement can spend a few hours imprisoned in a converted fishermen's warehouse, guarded by three underpaid officers, before breaking or talking themselves out. Thank your predecessors, who ruined the only decent jailhouse.

ALL ABOARD

The travel hell punishment fits the larceny crime: after rendez-vous, Caspar, Haltham, two undead and the TDM tourists join some noble passengers, who seek refuge in Taravast after vocally supporting Unhalad.

They board a seven-wagon streetcar pulled by twelve mechanical horses, heading out of Sa-Hareth down the haunted Stairs of Sighs passageway.

To keep the peace, newcomers must pretend to also be disgruntled Unhalad supporters — and to know nothing about the many bags of exotic opiates that Caspar has dragged aboard.

As they advance down the Stairs canyon, characters may observe each night brings a full moon and blood rains that disappear without trace, come morning. They can also hear the melancholic, indecipherable song of a woman — and find themselves dreaming nightly of burning alive, or being buried under hot tar. They will wake alert and increasingly distrustful of their companions.

At one point, the express train horsecar will pass by a galloping arctic bear, which will stop to salute. Do not feed it.

Characters receive a red helleborus brand on their left wrist to identify each other. It disappears within a week's time.

Test drive questions HERE.

» THE NEXT STOP

EXISTING PARTY

THE WAR IN WORDS

The recent emergence of the dark tar-like creatures gradually unsettles Lord Arha and his ghostly armies into violent outbursts. Throughout the day, the legions become progressively corporeal, no longer flickering out of existence and retaining their memories. They remain dead.

The following morning, the harpies throw down their usual homages of splintered aged bone, now alongside withered parchment. The strips feature excerpts from the letters of Arha and the Lady Hatisse — which Mazyar and his people can translate.

After reading one such parchment, a soured Arha takes unasked command of Mazyar's caravan, imposing benevolent but firmly enforced curfews. Grim-faced ghost soldiers start to keep watch of characters at all times. Some will accuse caravan travellers of being witches or spies of Taravast's Attaryl school.

Those crafty enough to pick up Arha's discarded letter can see his hands have smeared it bloodied. Translated, the missive encourages Arha to turn back with his armies from Taravast.

DON'T HARP ON ABOUT IT

All hell breaks loose as Allison, Lily, Wei Wuxian and Five follow tar harpies inside their makeshift "nest" — going down a steep pit into one of the canyon mountains, and reaching the cavernous and shifting corridors of a stone temple. The passageways lead to small chambers that host stone tombs, many opened and still holding the remains of bones and drips of tar.

Angered by the intrusion, the laired harpies turn aggressive and exit into the canyon, starting an attack spree. They throw rocks, claw or fly down and pick up stray animals and humans. Arha and his army can help you defend against the creatures.

With their main entryway compromised, some harpies will leave the lair through the fissured canyon wall, creating a crude and claustrophobic opening. The sorcery contained within the temple will seep out, with magically sensitive characters finding they can no longer quite tell the difference between the living and the dead. (All) characters can now sometimes briefly see the flickered figures of people they deeply miss around them.

Existing character questions HERE.

» AND THEN YOU GET VISITORS.

OLD TIMERS & TDM TROOPS

FASTER THAN A SPEEDING BU—

Gone rogue, some harpies will target a rapidly incoming seven-wagon streetcar, destroying or flying away with eight of its 12 mechanical horses, and the sad coachmen. The remaining steeds are completely unmanned.

The existing crew can wave their handkerchiefs as the train horsecar speeds by the caravan, set to crash into a canyon wall — or lend a hand to evacuate our TDMers, more Sa-Hareth refugees, and... our good friend Haltham and two of his creatures. Also, opium.

TDMers can meanwhile (haphazardly) board off or try to take control of the mechanical horses.

Write your starters as you will, or plan out the fate of the train horsecar HERE.

FRIENDS & FAMILY PROGRAMME

Following their unlikely survival, newcomers can join the existing party as part of smuggler merchant Mazyar's prosperous caravan. They will receive food, decent clothes and a donkey, horse or elk mount — a rare upside from the ongoing blood rain weather forecast, and the tar-drenched harpies that throw down aged bone.

They will also notice that Mazyar's caravan has been escorted by a ghost army led by the Lord Arha. He travels to free his lover, the oracle Hatisse from her alleged imprisonment by the witches of Taravast. All characters will experience a blood-curdling dread whenever they think to tell Arha or his men that they are dead — but speaking the words is now possible. Report HERE, if you'd like to break the bad news.

As the caravan stops for a few days, the existing party and newcomers can make merry, recover or raid the open haunted temple — where they may find several untouched stone tombs, including one engraved with a sculpture of Lord Arha. It will prove highly difficult to remove that lid without a group effort... but for that, or any other tomb questions, GO HERE.

NOTES

FRESH MEAT GONNA EAT

TDM events count as game canon, if you app in.

You can do network-style posts & log starters. Invent a username for communicators — but you're stuck with it after!

You can use the two allied NPC undead during the train horsecar disaster portion. Deploy them as you see fit to keep your character alive. The undead come with higher strength, speed, hunting instincts and a... disturbingly cold presence.

Haltham can make last-stand miracles happen for you, but at a heavy price. Inquire here.

OLD TIMERS, THINE WRINKLES SWEET

Existing characters won't be able to tell whether the newcomers or each other are living, dead, memories or ghosts, as a result of the (temporary) temple magic.

...yes, any leftover opiates are up for grabs. Hooligans.

You're welcome to respond to network posts from TDMers — but please keep your network posts in eastbound, think of Ye Olde AC.

Comments

[scrapgege]

[Xie Lian is a helpful sort, so once he prompted for the box, he goes and fetches it, bringing it back dutifully.]

I usually try to leave ghosts alone. Unless they disturb people, they really aren't much of a bother.

... I should probably let you bathe.

[downswing]

Not my waters.

[ Absently, as he abandons Xie Lian to hold the box as if he too were in attendance, while Lan Wangji takes the measure of strictly-doled out lavender between two cupped hands, weighing the threshold between generosity and overindulgence.

A pretty excess, deep-scented, the merchant Mazyar's one consolation and reward for Lan Wangji's... instinctive service, trading in stray snakes. He had intended only safety, but this will do. Handsomely.

Half a fistful of it in water. The second, drawn back. More, for tomorrow's sake. ]

You encounter the dead often? [ No. The 'god's indifference betrays a disaster of habit. ] Coexist beside them.

[scrapgege]

Not for you? Then who... Oh, it's for Wei-gongzi, isn't it? You really take good care of him.

[He closes the box and goes to put it back when it seems clear Lan Wangji is done with it.]

Well, I can see them and sense them when most people can't, and... some of them are friends, to be quite honest. I'm just used to having spirits around, and being a ghost doesn't mean being bad. If they don't bother people, they can be nice.

[downswing]

In the absence of others, I serve.

[ In the absence of Jiang Yanli, a beautiful and forgotten fixture, the look of her kindness carved from moving parts. He remembers her, distantly: a creature of Wei Ying's adoration, largely earned. A minority of that affection, mere fraternal habit.

He thinks, Xie Lian has not asked for the particulars of an answer — has posed, for all that Lan Wangji's gaze trickles over his face, searching continuation, no questions at all. ]

You kept more company among dead than living?

[scrapgege]

I guess this is what happens when you live as long as I do. I've been around humans too, but their lives are... really short. Heavenly officials and ghosts are around for longer. Plus, I've occasionally been sent to investigate cases of ghosts misbehaving.

[So, you know, that means spending time looking for them and then trying to bring them back to reason or capture them.]

That seems to worry you.

[downswing]

[ He startles to be seen so keenly by eyes softer, wider, less cunning than Wei Ying's — holding but a fraction of his history and knowledge and interests. Startles, but steadies himself, hands knotted behind his back, resuming posture.

'Worry.' And what is the word? An analysis of effect, an assumption of cause, each correct in their own measure. ]

Men who keep with ghosts become them.

[ In spirit and melancholy, if not body. A god may not perish, for all Xie Lian's divinity remains, humbly, under question. But there is a nostalgia to his flickered form, a soundless silence. He is more at risk than others. ]

[scrapgege]

Yes, that happens sometimes.

[He gives a small, slightly self-deprecating smile.]

It almost happened to me, once. I think I was just a hairbreadth away from falling, really. But someone pulled me back. And now, I don't think I could ever let myself fall that low ever again.

[First because he has more people on his side now, and he also knows the truth about how this almost fall happened. But also, there comes a point when suffering either breaks you, or you become numb to it. He almost broke. Maybe he did break. but he got better.]

It was a long time ago. And I asked for some punishment for it, even though the Heavenly Emperor at the time wanted to forgive me. So, I've been there, but I won't go there anymore. You don't need to worry about that.

[downswing]

[ There comes a point in the brewing of bath water when measure and scale betray themselves — when instinct must substitute chemistry, fingers trailed, nose wrinkling to catch the first wisps of diluted lavender, of heat transformed as privilege.

A touch more of the salts, solid, sweet. Gravelly, between fingertips, when he throws them in haphazardly.

He seems to his own understanding of himself, indifferent. Accomplice to Xie Lian's story, captive but illicit audience. Should he hear something so intimate? Know secrets so plain? ]

Of you, I presume no expectations.

[ No place to mete them, no wherewithal. His gaze walks the man, feline-like, and he thinks, not for the first time — he is as disaster fettered in flesh, this creature, Xie Lian, and he trips himself in the manners of men. ]

We are but strangers. Who among us would choose each other, but for duress?

[scrapgege]

... I like most of the people I've met since arriving.

[For all he is different, Xie Lian likes people, and he is a gregarious sort. He's always happy to be around people living their lives, and to help out. he's stumbled into trouble by accident many times because of that, too.]

Can you really call us strangers anymore, after all this time?

[downswing]

[ Of this man, he knows a name, a face, an inclination. A... godhood, or state thereof, the abbreviated sketch of a person. No substance, no common ground. No shared experiences past survival and slaughter — and what binds men better? War, he has learned, inspires strategists and poets, forces bonds.

...and how well do these keep in times of peace? He knows the expectation, dwelling in him as if his body remains the bones of a haunted house. Shakes his head and simply plays to those forms, able, if not intrinsically willing. ]

You do not.

[ And is that not all that matters between them? That one should have the enthusiasm, the impetus of both? Wei Ying has brokered all his life's relations through the sheer force of his good will. ]

[scrapgege]

[Xie Lian will be aggressively affectionate with you, Lan Wangji, you'd better get used to it.]

See?

I will try and do my best to stay out of trouble if I can, but it always seems to find me somehow... But if you need help with the ghosts, just tell me. I's a sort of... my job, in a way.