SEPTEMBER EVENT: WE'RE ON ISLAND TIME BABY

[sailmods]

on the 16th, starting at 6AM and continuing until 10PM, Friday herself will be driving the ship’s tender back and forth between the ship and the excursion, making the trip about once every 30 minutes. those who board the tender will find that they are knocked out for the journey, but will wake up still on the tender, wearing whatever it was they’d been wearing before getting on, and with no side effects.

the destination is a tropical island, with white sandy beaches and turquoise water. the island is rather large, with dense tropical foliage inside the barrier of sand, but passengers will find it difficult to get more than a mile inland. not because of the trees or bushes, but because the villagers intervene around that point, and politely but firmly return them to the beach.

yeah, there’s a village. wood and frond huts built in a clearing just past the sands, populated by about twenty beings that appear to be some kind of bipedal salamander. if they have a verbal language, they aren’t telling it to you, and mainly communicate through gesture. there is a sort of vendor nearest to the beach, sitting on a blanket that holds a variety of exotic fruits, trinkets, and cool shells that they will exchange for literally whatever you bring from the ship. they are also trading bottles of a dark-red, citrusy rum; they also either have difficulty judging or don’t care about human drinking ages, and anyone who isn’t clearly a child will have no problem getting some.

the jungle is teeming with a wide variety of tropical flora and fauna. the plant life is whatever would normally be found in a tropical Earth location, while the wildlife is limited to what can be found on this island and in the jungles of Sumeru. why? because I feel like it. my fleeting whims decide every aspect of this game and i ain't stopping now..

the surrounding ocean extends out about five nautical miles before reaching what could most accurately be called The End of the Map: the water ends very suddenly, followed by the sky, and beyond it is an endless black void that makes your brain twitch the more you stare at it. if you try to enter it, you will die, and it will hurt the entire time you are dying.

there doesn’t seem to be any restriction on magic, except for one rather major one: anyone with the ability to fly will find that they are suddenly unable to. whether magical (i.e. Venti), biological (i.e. Phil’s wings), or mechanical (i.e. MB’s drones) in nature, anyone attempting to take flight will find it impossible to get any lift. just barely over the horizon, something gleams as it points to the sky.

Comments

[skaikru]

( somewhere, someone with a medical or psychological degree absolutely specified that throwing yourself into interpersonal relationships detracted from any quest to focus on and thus better oneself. it was probably really well worded and had some other big key phrases, but boiled down to can't heal your own inner trauma while balls deep in someone else's inners. but yanno what they cared about on the ark regarding innards? stopping bleeding, and no one having any unregulated babies. not a psychologist in sight during the second apocalypse, and not a single person well adjusted enough to really logic themselves out of the ways you choose to kill your sadness won't work long term hole.

so that ultiamtely just leaves clarke, making another spectacularly scrunched up face in return to the notion of anxiety balls being unwound. )

Ew. Can we not talk about your sex life, maybe? I don't think we're close enough for that — where'd the lizard go?

( BRING THAT GUY BACK. )

[theweakhavepurpose]

Sorry sorry! [He holds his hands up in surrender. He's been around Sharky too long, it's starting to erode the three ounces of shame he has.] I'll shut up.

[He looks over to see if the lizard is still around, but it's gone to hide from these weirdos.]

I'll go look for another one and then uh.. not come back to show you.

[He gets up and dusts off his pants, and yes he fingerguns at her as a way of saying goodbye. This is the derranged cultist who killed a hundred or so people.]

[skaikru]

( it's not like she'd mind horribly if he did come back. but, same instance, it's not like their conversation had been a nice, easy one like the backdrop of a tropical beach deserved.

so, to the deranged cultist's retreating form, the guilt-riddled genocider raises a hand in casual parting — after giving him a very age appropriate judgemental look in return to those fingerguns. stop, you're embarrassing us both. )