#Stone of the Unterzee

[bacchusen]

“Hush, now. Lay your head down and rest.”

Stone, The Mountain of Light

[geraldofallon]

Fallen London Species: Gods of the Unterzee

[thunder-threnodies]

The Naturalist and the Captain Francis Morgan are sitting at the table: the Naturalist uneasy and restless. Planning, discussing. The eyes of the Naturalist wander around, a drop of sweat running down his brow. His lips trembles.

The eyes of the Captain follow his micro movements, pupils so small it's almost like they haven't any.

The Naturalist face relaxes, he sighs and chugs some brandy. "You'll have to cut me open, Cap."

The Captain's pupils go wide. All goes black, white and red. The Captain, and in front of them, almost concealed, lies the Naturalist: tied and ready on the table.

The eyes of the Captain, dead still but so ready. Nods to the naturalist. He nods back.

A Ravenglass Knife, as sharp as one of those nightmares where you can't wake up from and almost feel everything, slowly decends upon the Naturalist. A muffled scream.

A clean, perfect cut. With care and an almost intimate touch, the Captain separates the tissues. Skin from fat from muscles from bones.

The Captain's expression become stern and focused. Blood is the only colour they can see, flooding the scene like wine, creating unnervingly alive spirals on the table, the floor, the Captain's hands.

The Naturalist never loses consciousness but it's never present. The Captain knows he won't remember anything once this all crazy adventure will be over and yet.

Cut. Open. Separate the tissue from the stone. Carve the bone with a cut as thin as a hair. The Captain's eyes are slightly twitching, all dark almost as if having no irises for how big their pupils are.

A small river of blood from their own bitten lower lip. Hands firm and delicate. Quick images flash through their mind: they're feasting, alone, in their cabin on the Requiem, their galleon; all those regrets, all these twists in the Naturalist's flesh; all this blood of his, spilled in the name of a Much Greater Self...

The texture, the taste. "I know you. I know you. I know you." A candle flame flickering and then getting snuffed out. The candle smiles and glows. The Unterzee, deadly still. An Urchin who haven't had anything to eat in days. The Masters wasting the pleasures of life.

Softly, the Captain chants to the Naturalist: "To eat is for the living. To be eaten is for the dead. And you're not dead, yet. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet." as the surgery goes on.

Their hands, finally done, put the extrusion down on the desk.

They chant some shanties to the Naturalist, while carefully stitching back his wounds, delicately as if he was made of Whisper Silk. When they're done, they lean with some Muscaria Brandy and pour it lovingly in his mouth.

"You're not dead yet. But for now go, rest and Dream of the Dead."

Then they just sit, sliding down with their back against the table's leg, head on their knees, smearing everything in red: floor, jacket, face. And they just sleep there, sitting on the floor amidst all that red.

[house-of-mirrors]

Thinking about the House of Rods and Chains Masters and the different ways they communicate with humans, given they have less experience than the Masters of the Bazaar, and also how it matches with their histories

Menagerie speaks incredibly formally with prose more reminisce of the eloquence of the correspondence. It is also very old and remembers the time before the Judgements' rule so that also probably affects its language, like with Stones. It sees itself as greater and its voice reflects that.

Pennies is broken and frantic and all over the place; barely anyone talks to it at Lustrum and it's focused on its work more than anything, so it's had less opportunity to practice/learn English. Also matches with the constant rush and running out of time, like it doesn't have seconds to spare even to speak

If I'm correct, we never hear Pipes speak, only nodding to its staff. Which lines up with what Barleycorn said about it choosing to retreat from the world

Barleycorn still has some of the more formal Curator style in its speech but is the closest to the ~standard~ style spoken by human characters, imo. It's had experience communicating with people through the unterzee gap over the years. And, well, to be a good attendant in a court, one must be a good communicator.

[adorablegorilla]

Despite their vast love for the Zee and all the research they've done The Inescapable Professor know absolutely zilch about the gods of the Unterzee. They've heard the names of Stone and Storm and Salt from the Zailors of course, but they have no clue as to anything regarding their nature or anything else about them, and none of the research they've done into the Unterzee has provided any clarity on the matter. So they just Zail around with the (fairly reasonable) assumption that they're PROBABLY real and offer a few prayers here and there for them.

[cloudyswritings]

Pjo/Sunless sea crossover thing:Part 1

So wearing right here, this will have spoilers for sunless seas, skies, and some parts of fallen London. Proceed with caution

So basically I got thinking about what character from pjo would go by in sunless seas, and what their Parabolan counterparts would be too. The names will go like this (Characters name/Sunless sea title/ Parabolan counterpart). Let’s start, like all things do, with Percy.

Percy Jackson/The Saltborne Captain/ The Ancient Mariner:

The inhabitants of Parabola have all sorts of theories about the origin of the Ancient Mariner. Many Fingerkings claim that he is a manifestation of poetry and the furious call of the unreal sea, and nothing more. The cats of Parabola seek his wisdom often, they claim he waits for the arrival of a traveler, and that he plans to depart once they arrive. And those one the fringes of Parabola, those desperate wretches clinging to the edges of broken mirrors and hiding between the false light orange sunbeams claim something else. They claim the Ancient Mariner is a fragment of the Sun Beneath the Sea, bearing a word of its law. Of course who can say whic of these groups are correct…

(I think if Percy were in sunless sea he would probably end up following Salts path, albeit a modified one. My headcanon of him has him feeling an innate connection to the unterzee that could be explained by him being Salts reincarnation.)

Annabeth Chase/The Meticulous Detective/The Peerless Architect:

To: The Shivering Spirifer

We’re going to need to move our operations to the east end. I heard some Whispering Urchins talking about how The Meticulous Detective is back from visiting the tomb colonies and we’re dead in the middle of her usual stomping grounds. I don’t think that her erratic behavior as of these last few years(which have, of course, been 1999) is going to prevent her from dragging us to the constables and shaking our pockets out for Incendiary Gossip along the way. Best we get a move on and look for other hunting grounds.

Cheers!

The Soulful Author

Nico/The Shadowy Citizen/The Thing in The Darkness

Some say, in the depths of Parabola, where even the light of its false sun doesn’t reach, there dwells a creature. It doesn’t belong to parabola, how could it? Its unrealness has knotted and twisted in on itself like the slow writhing of vines and compression of ancient stones. In this way it has become real once more. The Thing in the Shadows, they say, hunts for probabilities, devouring them right out from under its victims. It was a potential squandered and a future loss, and its keening cries echo with the satin-grey notes of prophecy. So they say at least, it may just be a tale told to keep young Parabolans on their best behavior.

Frank/The Jolly Veteran/The Formless Soldier

It’s quite a thing to be formless among the legions of not-things that live behind glass. Quite impressive even, though none in Parabola would say so within earshot.

To: The Duplicitous Heiress

I can’t quite seem to figure out what angle the Jolly Veteran is working truth be told. He seems to be as he is, and I’ve found no connections to any of the factions here in London beyond the joviality typical of him. Truthfully even our friends in the flit couldn’t find anything on him. I’d suggest picking a target easier to besmirch m’lady.

Regards

The Repentant Knight.

Hazel/The Bedazzled Sorcerer/???

“if you are crafty enough, if you are powerful enough, and if you are mad enough-though who isn’t these days- you can bind things from Parabola and bring them into reality in truth. Though I can’t say how this might be accomplished I reckon it’d take magic beyond us mere mortals. Or dying properly I suppose-not like anyone here on this d__n zea can anyway.”

excerpt from Phenomenon of the Unterzee by the Complaining Chronicler.

[tales-from-the-cicero]

Does Queen Stone preserve yon heart?

“Queen stone? The devil does that mean?” Alexander squinted his eyes and focused more on the paper, as if it would give him an answer to his questions. “Is this referring to that old Unterzee god tale? If so, I would hope that one looks out for me. Heaven knows the last thing I need is to get pulled into that inky black ocean.”

[riots-unterzee-au]

The vibes are honestly nearly unmatched! If you're still itching for that lovecraftian stranded-in-a-strange-sea feeling afterwards 'Dredge' has a slightly more grounded setting but it honestly feels like it was written by the same people - would recommend!

Aha you are definitely just thrown right into it, most of the islands and the unterzee are their own thing made for sunless sea but the whole backstory of london, the neaths colours, salt/stone/storm/the white and ect are hugely expanded upon in the other games. I think the fifthcity wiki does a pretty good job of collecting it all though, if you ever want more to build with!

Oh about the chapel, it's a slice of a questline known as 'Seeking' (or the unfortunate acronym SMEN) in fallen london. Would only recommend looking it up after finishing the lessons at the chapel, but if you want some real messed up angst - that's the path everyone who feels a bit peckish follows. There's no real reason for it to be a menace quality in sseas (other than being a badge of shame) without knowing about it, but man it sure is one. IIRC Frostfounds not exactly related but its a bit of a mini SMEN, its also quite endgame - the warnings are definitely there for a reason aha

Anyway, i'm definitely looking forwards to anything you post! Out of curiosity what do you think of the dawn machine and the bright-eyed/new sequence? As its kinda a rouge man-made god, thought that could have some fun connections to be made there with tony

I’ve been recommended Dredge before too! It’s definitely on my list

I’ve pulled up fifthcity and wowie, thank you this is going to be a fantastic reference! Especially with double checking names of places to make sure I don’t make a fool of myself haha. I’ve been torn between looking up answers to my infinite questions, and waiting to find things out as I play. Mostly I’m landing somewhere in the middle and just trying not to spoil myself TOO HARD 😂

Funny you should mention the dawn machine, I just recently found it and wasted A LOT of fuel marveling at it haha. You’re definitely reading my mind re: Tony being connected somehow, I’m excited to mull over how that will work.

Thank you for the asks! I’m glad to know my hype for this game is not alone

[liminalkhaos]

Sigils of Stone, Salt and Storm, the three gods of the Unterzee.

I feel particuly afiliate to Salt, god of Black water, Travel and Darkness. And also Loss.

Source

[mr-veils]

Mr. Eyes

I decided to create a Master OC, but in the process went overboard and started a fanfic. I might continue it, I’m not sure. Probably not. But even so, I wanted to post this one-shot that might become just Chapter One of some multi-chapter fic.

Sorry if anyone seems OOC.

Sometimes you fancy that people tell stories about you. That somewhere on the Surface or in the Neath, people think you might exist. Maybe they say, “Deep below the surface, even under the Neath, there lies another cavern.” Maybe they say that it leads to the Earth’s core. That there’s something down there, protecting something extraordinary. Here is where the fun part of this sort of story would be, you think; the part where no one knows what’s true. Some could say that you protect tremendous riches, enough to make the most powerful nations on Earth seem destitute. Others that you protect ancient knowledge, books that even Judgements have only heard of in rumors. And even still, some might think that you’re not protecting something in there, no -you’re protecting everyone outside from a horrible monster that even the great Gods of the Unterzee fear.

Of course, you’ve never actually heard anyone say those things, but if you had, and if you felt like jeopardizing your mission, you would say that that last one isn’t too far off from the truth. You have been watching over this Child for untold eons, the purebred bastard of the Sun hidden deep beneath the Earth at its very center. It’s the reason why there’s life at all on this planet, its essence suffusing the mantle around it and invigorating even the smallest motes of matter to try and form something wonderful. But being a young god’s caretaker is a difficult task, so you’ve not been able to interact with anyone since you first started this. You spend your time there talking to the baby Judgement, still considered freshly-hatched even after countless millennia.

Not that it’s your only companion down here. While your only contact with the outside world is from what falls into the cavern from the many wells that lead to here from the Neath, several hundred years ago you were delighted to find a skeleton of one of your current kin. And it even still spoke! Granted, it was raving mad at the time, and now it’s still not very good at holding a conversation, but at least it speaks, which is more than can be said for many things in the Core. Yes, the great mountains that hold up the Core’s ceiling are sentient, but they aren’t good conversationalists. And while the Time-Dragon Storm visits every once in a while, it never stays long. So finding this skeleton - who refused to tell you its name, preferring to be called Eaten - was a stroke of much-needed luck. Whenever it’s lucid, it tells you of the dreams it’s passed through and of the beings who inhabit the world above.

Those moments never last though, and soon enough Eaten will always go back to be furious at its companions, most notably one it calls Veils. From what you gather, Veils is the one who let Eaten be eaten in the first place, which is quite rough. It makes you feel bad for the poor bat. 

But from these rants, you learn of the Neath, of the Fallen Cities, and of the Messenger who now calls herself the Bazaar. You learn that your Sun had yet another child after this one, the mountain of light, Stone. 

Oh poor Bazaar, first having to see her love be with someone else, then finally be united with the Sun, only for him to fall in love with another Judgement yet again, and forget her once more. And what’s worse, he got rejected by the Judgement, leading to the whole conundrum in the Neath! 

As you heard of the work she and her Masters are doing, you wonder what you would reside over if you worked with them. There are already so many useful Masters with the Bazaar though, you’re not sure how you would fit in. You don’t exactly have many marketable skills… you suppose, if you had to pick what you’d sell, your domain would be comforts and supports. You would sell and upgrade home comforts, like paintings, lamps, desks, the necessary but unnoticed things that make a place feel welcoming.

Not that it matters, you’re never going to see the Neath or the Bazaar and her Masters, nor Fallen Karakorum or the Underzee.

Not that you’re upset! Heavens no! You love this Child as much as a now space-bat can love an infant god! You just wish you could take a break every once in a while. But you can’t, because taking care of a baby is difficult work, and it’s even harder when the baby in question can smite you. But that’s the price you pay in order to make sure the baby lives to see maturity. And one day, when the Sun grows and engulfs the Earth to crack it open and show his child to the universe, you’ll be able to say you did a good job raising them.

Oh! Eaten’s lucid again! You wonder what he’ll say this time, it’s been quite a while. Maybe he’ll bring you some more new stories, it’s awfully hard to remember them all when you don’t have anywhere to write them down. Not that you haven’t tried -anything written down in stone wears away rather quickly unless it’s written in the Correspondence, and anything written in that never leaves, like a bad stain you can’t wash out. And no one ever seems to throw books down wells, for some reason! It’s a serious problem because sometimes you don’t want to have a story with you, but you want to have it accessible. Anyway, that’s a tangent, you have to stay focused! Don’t let anything past you, listen to what Eaten’s about to say and then get back to work.

As you approach the skeleton, you get the feeling that Eaten’s staring at you, despite the skull being in the same position it always is. “The fifth city has fallen. Fallen Karakorum is dead, long live Fallen London.”

Oh. That’s unfortunate! You really like -or, well, now you suppose the correct tense is liked- the stories Karakorum had! How sad that it’s already been squashed. My, five-hundred years seem to fly past like it’s nothing. 

…Is that it?

Eaten stares at you, an incredulous look in its eye-sockets. Its sockets almost seem to convey ‘This is the fifth out of seven total cities to have fallen, another step closer to the end of the Bazaar’s quest, and you ask if that’s it?’ 

And, well, yes, it is. It’s not like you’re a part of her mission, you’ve got your own task, and unlike her, you’re actually doing something the Sun asked of you instead of trying to avoid trouble and delaying the problem. While it’s sad that they may all go soon and you won’t get to hear any more stories or news, you have to stay focused. He stares again. Can’t he get some more expressions? You know he’s currently a skeleton of his former self, but honestly, having only one look is quite boring, and this is being said by a being who’s been in the same place, doing the same thing, for millennia.

“Before the Fifth City fell, I heard rumors from my Seekers that the Masters were acting odder than usual. Looking into wells and traversing across the Zee. They might be looking for you, Eyes. They might think that you have something important. And you and I, we both know you do.”

Oh no. That’s simply unacceptable. No, no one can get to the Core. No one’s allowed to even find a way to get to the Core. And if anyone tries, you’re going to have to stop them. But how? You can’t leave your post, something might happen to the Infant! 

You’re stuck.

So, instead of worrying about it, you decide that you’ll simply think of possible solutions to this problem while you take care of the Spawn. You’ll find an answer. You have to.

All will be well.

[nottobepostponed]

The Seekers arrive North. The water and air are icy, tingling with anticipation and yet utterly still. Not Not-Stars glisten in the millpond stillness, despite the myriad of mismatched ships making up Mr. Nights’ fleet. The flagship beaches first, the keel crunching gently into the ice.

You exit first, pawprints steaming in the cosmic snow as you tread towards the winged statues. The closed Gate. Usually an entrance to the High Wilderness, today? An entrance to someplace else. The reason you left first was a practical one, you have to transport the Mirror’s pieces, large enough that it wouldn’t be out of place in Varchas.

Your Seekers construct the frame first, diligently screwing parts together of metal, exotic woods, mottled stones, foggy glass, and bone. You place the shards as the frame is still being built, starting from the base. Your fire melds the glass neatly, not perfectly, but the pieces fit together well enough to serve their purpose. The bottom-most edge of the mirror hangs free, terminating into the zee-water over a dozen feet deep.

The hours go by quickly for you, the worker’s faces change and blur together as you work tirelessly, whilst they work on shifts. The final pieces require you to fly, your heavily beating wings being the only noise in the still, anticipating air. A hand is raised, and knocks on the finished Mirror.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK, KNOCK KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

Something knocks back, you don’t need a verbal order for your flagship to back up. And lucky that they do, as the glass ripples and the reflection shifts. A skull so immeasurably large that a single socket cannot be contained within, absolutely encrusted with clockwork and candles.

Your Dragon, the only Enforcer you deal with. The peligin un-light from His tapers shifts and scans the horizon, before the head dips down, allowing entry. The guardians aren’t watching, the anchor has been established, and it’s full steam ahead.

Others will come and investigate, you know this, but they will find nothing. The mirror cracks and shatters after the last ship has departed, and the link is broken.

You are still here, though. Long enough to consider the frame of the Mirror. Into the frame a message carved, to those who dare read it, sigils burning into the frame forevermore, starkly Violant brands:

AN ENDEAVOUR TO CONTAIN HAS FAILED COMPLETELY. 

THE NEMESIS LIVES IN FREEDOM NOW. 

THE STRONG DISCOURAGEMENT OF PURSUIT. 

THE JUBILATION OF VICTORY OVER AN ENEMY DENIED. 

THE SWEET TASTE OF LIGHTYEARS UNEXPLORED BELONGING TO US.

TRANSFORMATION OF THE SEVENFOLD BETRAYED INTO THE EVERDREAMING JUDGMENT.

You are smugly satisfied with the message, and take the Mirror-glass into your paws and maw, and dive into the reflective Unterzee, to join with the rest of your people. The anchor on this side is gone, traveled to new lands, the Seekers are all but gone, with but an ominous message left behind.

[neathnights]

The smugglers' grave

[previously on]

You've picked up a tip. In a city where death is a temporary inconvenience, graves are often empty and graveyards quiet. They make ideal spots for smugglers to store their loot.

→ One stone in a thousand Now, if I were a grave filled with illicit goods transported at night out of the sight of the Constables, which grave would I be?

Harsh whispers among ancient stones You pick out what you think is the right grave, and wait for the dead of night to begin your spadework. When you arrive, there are people there and an argument in progress. An elegantly dressed she-devil is spitting insults at three black-clad Unterzee zailors and it seems weapons are about to be drawn. You slip away, passing a patrol of Constables hurrying to the scene.

Eliza Trove, beloved mother? That was foolish of them. It takes a few days of careful observation and an hour's furtive, frantic spadework to uncover the smuggler's cache. You come away from the operation a little wealthier, although you can't help but wonder why this particular commodity is coming in across the Unterzee.

→ Try to glimpse a notorious smuggler Persistent rumours have placed a Notorious Honey-smuggler at the graveyard. The Constables would pay for a detailed description.

Nothing visible It takes a few days of vigilance before the Notorious Honey-smuggler shows his face. Well, he doesn't actually show his face at all: he's bundled up in scarves and his hat is pulled low. He meets a pair of tomb-colonists in the dead of night. As they leave, the smuggler throws something casually into the bush you are hiding in: the stump of a candle. It is covered in teeth marks.

Seeing his face Days of persistent surveillance pay off. The Notorious Honey-smuggler meets a pair of tomb-colonists in the dead of night. His quick, quiet steps are hard to follow, but you catch a glimpse of him: pale skin and a wispy beard. He sees you! The smuggler bolts, and you give chase.

He flings something at you: it's a substantial patch of skin. Enough for a face. It has wispy whiskers on it. You drop the horrid thing, and the smuggler escapes. Despite its macabre nature, the Constables will be interested in your story.

[thunder-threnodies]

6 and 7 for morgan 👀

What does Morgan likes the most/least about themselves.

They like: their handwriting, the single thin streak of faded out/greyed out hair they have in the curls on their forehead, their music, the way their hands seem so well adapted to hold both a knife and the steering wheel of their ship, their current voice scarred with a hint of Salt and Storm in it, the way they decorated their bedroom, their Collection of Curios, the Zong of the Zee (a collection of stuff from all acreoss the unterzee).

They dislike: the way they laugh now, the way their teeth seems to always be crooked and chipped and damaged but sharp like zeeglass, their wanderlust, the subtle signs of their affiliation with the Fingerkings, the more evident ones of the time spent with the Viscountess as a Reflection of a Cat in Parabola, STONE, the way their nails grip the keel and leave marks, their detachment, the way they rejoice in the consuming and killing and the hunger;

Ask game from here:

[house-of-mirrors]

I think it would have been cool to have the option to dedicate the Church in the Wild to Storm, Stone, Salt, or some other Neathly power like that. I know it's not close to the Unterzee, and I know you can do Counter-Church stuff, but not quite the same idea. Or, even better, just have an areligious meeting place.

I kind of had fun with it, but it still doesn't quite sit right with me for my own personal religious beliefs as the player, and my characters' beliefs. And I know it's an optional questline, but still. Alternative options for RP purposes, and also for players that don't care about the Anglican Church/Hell for any reason

[gamerdamemedia]

Tales From Fallen London: Abandon All Human Decency, Ship & Hope Who Enter Here

I wrote this vignette 2 years ago based on a failed playthrough of Sunless Sea.  It was a lot of fun to write, so I thought I’d post it here.

My first unlucky avatar was Captain Sibeal Delauncay.  The good Captain, as she preferred to be called at port, was a natural philosopher by trade, & took an old steamer ship, along with her faithful Surgeon, feral & nearly comatose ferret as the ship’s mascot (clearly doomed us from the start) & a crew of eight zailors (no I did not misspell that) out into the dark sea.  Her goal?  To gather enough tales from her adventures to one day retire & publish a novel.

Things began simply enough for Captain Sibeal.  She picked up a passenger who wanted to be taken to a tomb colony, presumably to die — there isn’t exactly a lot of land in Unterzee — & was tasked by the admiralty to check on the ports in the area.  Captain Sibeal chose to remain close to the main port, but did travel to several close islands, learning Secrets that she shared with her Surgeon to gain more insight in the workings of their dark world.  She gained the attention of Zee’s three gods.  She spent one evening in port with a Dapper Gentleman who bid her passionately to keep his locket with her.  She quickly replace her feral mascot with a grumpy cat that snuck aboard at first opportunity who somehow made their cannons work better.  She shot a lot of giant crabs & even a pirate ship once.

It’s hard to say where things began to take a turn for the worse.  Perhaps she should’ve been more adventurous in her explorations.  Perhaps she should have been more diligent in following up with quests.  Perhaps she shouldn’t have agreed to smuggle goods for a dark stranger.  Perhaps she shouldn’t have accidentally spent all her meager money on flares when she meant to buy fuel & then couldn’t sell them back for even close to the same price as she bought them!

Who can say?  What can be explained is the series of events that ultimately led to her death.

After running out of fuel & supplies, Captain Sibeal weighed her options & ultimately decided to turn to the gods for help.  It was better than waiting to die.  At least in her travels she had learned a few Secrets, & she whispered this to Salt, the god of horizons.  Rather than bestowing them with much-needed supplies, a white zee-bat, unlike the normal one they kept on the ship for scouting, lighted upon the railing.  Captain Sibeal stared at the zee-bat while it stared back, transfixed by its crystalline eyes.  Her gaze followed as it suddenly flew away into the darkness.  Hearing the crew gasp, Captain Sibeal came to her senses, only to discover that they were now in a new place.  The accursed Kingeater’s Castle, all the way on the other side of the known map!

Accursed god of secrets!  How did this help!?  What good was it to bring them here?  After finding nothing of use on the island, they set out from the desolate castle, praying their meager fuel holds out.  Not wanting to waste anything, the Captain sends out the zee-bat to search for land.  It returned, bringing a report of a place called Saviour’s Rock not far north.  The name offered hope, & the Captain directs the ship northward.

Heading north, they enter the Sea of Statues.  Giant hands protrude from the murky water, as if reaching to the forgotten surface.  Or perhaps they wish to pull the foolish humans down with them.  What lies below, waiting in the unseen?  The crew grows restless in the dark, as they’ve had to douse the running lights to conserve fuel.  It’s a risky gamble.  They need fuel to get out, but will it matter if they’re all insane?

It turns out not to matter either way, as they’ve barely cleared the castle when the engines die.  This time, she turned to Stone.  The only female of the three gods (assuming gods even have physical forms to have genders), perhaps she would hear the lady captain’s plea.  But rather than an offering of Secrets, Captain Sibeal offered of herself.  A great wound for the Wounded.

Thankfully, the Surgeon is able to efficiently bandage the wound.  After, Captain Sibeal paces the deck, anxious that there has been no hint of a reply either way in response to her offering.  Silent gods can be just as terrifying as when they speak.  Suddenly, the engineer runs up to her.  Expecting more bad news, Captain Sibeal is thrilled when he reports, “Captain – there’s more fuel in the bins than I realized.  Just a little.  I’d looked three times. I’m sure it wasn’t there before. But now – it might be enough -“

Silently thanking Stone for offering useful aid (was transporting them here Salt’s idea of helping, or was he just being a jerk?), the crew sets off from the desolate place.  But it wasn’t long before the lack of supplies began to take its toll on the crew.  When the first crewman died, the bo’sun offered a terrible choice: prepare the body for the funeral, or prepare it for a meal?

The idea is tempting, but Captain Sibeal knew order had to be maintained.  The crew was already on the edge of terror.  Having them feast on the flesh of their fallen comrade would only push them further over the tenuous border of sanity.  She dismisses the bo’sun.  They had to retain their humanity.

Sadly, while the crew is giving out, the engine gives out first.  Again, they are stranded without fuel.  It crosses her mind to use a flare, but sadly she’d sold them back.  And this far out, what are the odds that would do any good.  The only knowledge Captain Sibeal possess that might be a boon is her attention of the gods.  Salt was less than no help, & the Captain wasn’t too eager to turn to Stone again so soon.  Besides, as weak as she was from the hunger, Captain Sibeal wasn’t sure she had the strength for another offering.  Storm is the only one left.  The angriest of the three.   Sadly, it wouldn’t be the Captain making the sacrifice this time.

The only fair way to decide is to draw lots.  The loser is swiftly & painlessly killed on the deck.  The few remaining crew watch on silently as his blood slowly spills over the edge of the deck & out into the sea.  No one can stand to look at the other.  Suddenly, there’s a loud crack, & a stalactite falls from the sky, crashing onto their deck.  At first it seems they’ve only drawn the ire of the Storm, given the massive hole in the deck & the second dead crewman.  But as they examine the stalactite, they discover it’s made of ore that can substitute for coal.  They will live another day, but the price of that survival is growing increasingly high.

Captain Sibeal frequently finds her mind wandering.  Thoughts of evenings at the pub, enjoying warm meals & decent wine parade through her mind.  Soon it becomes all she can think about, almost an obsession.  When she begins to eye one of the starving crew, Captain Sibeal shakes herself to her senses.  She must do something to stave off the madness.  She fears what will happen otherwise.

But as more times passes, & more of the crew begin to die, Captain Sibeal knows she has to do something to save her crew.  The inevitable has set in.  The creeping sense that they won’t make it out of here alive gnaws at her mind worse than the blasted, useless ferret.  And if that’s the case, then Captain Sibeal vows to fight as hard as she can against fate, the gods, or whoever else tries to stand in their way.  So when she receives word of more dead zailors, she orders the bo’sun to do what’s necessary.  The Captain salves what little is left of her humanity with the knowledge that they were already dead, & twas better for their bodies to feed the crew than the sea.  But is there coming back from such a point?

The deck is far more silent now.  The only crew remaining is the Captain, the Surgeon, the cat, & two zailors.

Finally, they reach Saviour’s Rock, & there’s a brief moment of hope that their suffering was worth it.  But there is no salvation to be found.  Unless that salvation is in the terrifyingly giant, hairy arms of the spiders scurrying about.  As Captain Sibeal stares at the monstrous webs crossing above them all hope fades like a puff of smoke on the non-existent wind.

All that matters is trying to survive.   So when she sees her crew eating the few rats that remain, she turns a blind eye toward it.  They’d already eaten their mates.  What was a few vermin?  Sadly, for some reason she can’t eat the ferret.

As the engines sputtered into silence, & the warm glow of the lantern fades into nothingness, Captain Sibeal accepts the inevitable.  They must abandon ship.  In such a desolate place, the odds that any will survive in their current state is highly unlikely.

Thus was the fate of Captain Sibeal Delauncay.

[lhs3020b]

Sunless Sea

Today I’ve been experimenting with Sunless Sea, which is an offshoot of Fallen London.

The game is a mix of exploration, horror and RPG elements. You captain a boat, which explores the titular optically-challenged sea (or zee). Unfortunately for them, your captains don’t tend to last very long - the Unterzee is not a particularly-friendly place, full of hazards ranging from swarms of aggressive bats to pirates and oversized murder-crabs. Oh, and there’s a resource-management mechanic - running out of food and running out of fuel are distinctly not good.

Food and fuel also seem to run out rather alarmingly fast.

Fortunately you can pass on some of your items to your next captain (apparently the city of Fallen London is quite efficient at processing inheritances!). This is helpful as it does appear that captains will die, and quite frequently.

I’ve played about two hours of the game so far, most of which involved blundering around the areas immediately adjacent to Fallen London itself. A couple of journeys as far as Venderblight were managed but, umm, bats. The less said about that, the better :) My boat did eventually manage to go some way out east, before running out of food and then running out of fuel. A well-intentioned but misfortunate attempt to make a sacrifice to Stone put a stop to any subsequent progress.

Fortunately, the new captain has inherited the previous one’s charts. (How they were retrieved from a lifeless boat drifting in the middle of a lightless sea with no survivors to tell of it, is probably a tale that will never be told...)