The Black Expanse [CVU Secret Location]

The Black Expanse - "The Sea 'Neath the Sea"

Somewhere in the uncharted North Atlantic, volcanic activity opened the path to a blustering whirlpool, a cascade of swirling water that ensnares vessels which wander too close and dragging them to the bottom of the ocean.

Or so it was thought.

Rather, the whirlpool deposited the unfortunate souls within a cavernous expanse, a hollow grotto that extended farther than the eye could see. Compasses spun wildly within, the salty air permeating every nook and cranny of the destroyed ships. Blackened waters claimed dozens of lives, but those who survived from the original incident in the 1800s presumably constructed their colony within the cave out of their destroyed ships. Never found, they commenced their new lives as citizens of the Sunken Moor, carefully charting the seemingly-endless ocean and clutching desperately to their sanity in the dark.

The Expanse is far from empty. Unknown horrors thrive in the dark, always just out of sight until they drag a scout ship to the bottom of the cave. Enormous statuary dots the horizons, crafted by unknown hands. The haunted nature of the Black Expanse suggests something far more sinister about its origins, the only points of light being the enigmatic buoys that bob endlessly through the waters.

Fallen Society - The Sunken Moor

Populated by pale-skinned Victorians, the only civilized township in the Black Expanse is the Sunken Moor, a veritable time capsule of old time England rebuilt from the salvaged wrecks of the ruined fleet. The citizens of the Moor speak in hushed, nervous tones about what lives beyond the docks, constantly-manned harpoon turrets swiveling about in the perpetual night. The only sources of light come from oil-lit lanterns dotting the streets, which are periodically extinguished whenever a whale-like call echoes throughout the cavern.

The citizens are polite, and cooperate well with one another out of necessity. Having collaborated to establish and maintain their colony for the past two centuries, they are understandably united in their stand against the dark. Their society advanced along a different trajectory than the one above, expanding upon steam-powered gadgets and harnessing unknown runes scattered about the Expanse's sea-floor, retrieved with experimental submarines. Their unique aquatic existence has made them some of the most accomplished ship-builders in the world; 'tis a shame that most will never hear of their work, let alone see one of their exotic submarines in action.

Though an escape from the underground caverns is charted, the citizens themselves stay within their well-guarded town, and though they are polite towards those marooned upon their dock, they refuse to let their society be discovered. For the surfacers to trespass, they say, is to invite destruction from the black things which dwell beneath the waves. To sail away from the Moor is to invite disaster, for the longer one travels through the Expanse, the more distant their minds grow from sanity.

Society

The constant dark has not impeded the growth of civilization, only altered it. For resources, hunters use their harpoons to snare large whale-like creatures from the edges of the Moor's water, processing them for food and oil. The Moor's system of government is parliamentary in nature, though a Duke or Duchess serves a symbolic leadership role. A natural aristocracy developed, merchants' masters residing further "inland" away from the docks, which are viewed not as unsafe, but as bad luck. Were the Moor to be attacked, the poor living at the docks would be the first to feel the ire of the terrors swimming just outside of the line of buoys.

The utter lack of light has resulted in a less aesthetically pleasing society, dirty streets and graffiti'd walls of no consequence to those who cannot see them. The men themselves have smaller eyes, less accustomed to the light than a normal man's. The residents of the Moor have little knowledge of the outside world, their records destroyed in a blaze nearly seventy years ago. They fly a facsimile of the English flag, and still speak the language, though it is distorted in some sense. "S" sounds are harder, a clipped "z" sound replacing several.

Crime and punishment is harsh in the Moor, though it is largely uncommon. Only outsiders are at risk of dangerous oversight, for fear that they may be some of the pirates who sail beyond the buoy-lines. Piracy, viewed as the act of man against man in the Moor, is social taboo, and is harshly punished. Because of the harrowing conditions in which these people live, open violence and theft are things of the past. Disease also threatens most of the poorer areas. The economy of the Moor is centered around trading, and salt is a popular currency, mined from different islands dotting the Expanse. Those who sail out to trade are often regarded as foolhardy and dangerous, though the citizens of the Moor rely on them for survival.

Cults abound in the Moor, committed to investigating the mysterious ruins dotting the edges of the Expanse. Social rejects and scientists alike pool their knowledge, more preoccupied with uncovering the secrets of the Moor's existence rather than trading or living. Occasionally, based on different interpretations of what the symbols and recovered artifacts demand, these cults wage war on one another. This often involves assassination or backroom theft of documents, though the police force of the Moor cracks down on them for these activities. While the cults are held in great disdain, every citizen acknowledges the progress they bring. The cults were the first to discover and harness glowing crystals embedded in the underwater rocks beneath the Moor, and are even coming close to developing a form of electricity. They are more comparable to college fraternities than legitimate religious sects.

Technology

The complex technology of the Moor, often produced by the cults, somewhat resembles surface technology of the late industrial age, though often with an obtuse twist. The metalworking prowess of the Moor's citizens, as well as abundant use of animal fats and oils, led to a "dirtier" sort of technology, often powered by gears, levers, springs, and fats. A prominent example would be the powerful Striders, or vehicles resembling balanced stilts. Often equipped by members of the police force, these walking cages tower over the streets of the Sunken Moor, inspecting buildings to make sure all is in order. Those who use the Striders are also responsible for making sure all lights are off whenever the town is forced to black out, punishing those who leave their lights on; to do so endangers the entire Moor.

The Moor's ships outclass even modern vessels, despite their seemingly backwards technology. While not equipped for war of any sort, as their society has no need, the vessels glide smoothly through the waters of the Black Expanse, speed of the essence when outrunning the horrors of the Beneath. The designers of many of the more expensive vessels mimic the creatures that prowl the waters, using their natural biological advantages and adapting them to cruiser-crafting. The citizens of the Moor even have access to submarine technology, powering their more experimental ships with glowing crystals they retrieve from underwater grottos. Several cults warn against the use of these crystals, while others embrace their discovery wholeheartedly.

Gunpowder is a common resource of choice for combat in the Moor, be it against roving bands of "pirates" or foolhardy criminals who dangerously seek anarchy within the sunken city. It is of little comfort against the greater beasts, though, and it is for that reason that most civilians remain as far inland as they can manage. To even look out to the blackened ocean for too long is to invite madness. Many homes don't even have windows facing the sea.

The Black Expanse Itself

To leave the wood and cobbled stone buildings of the Moor is tantamount to suicide for the inexperienced. The dark, salty waters lapping at the side of the stern are uncommonly inviting, calling to new sailors to leap in and swim until they drown. The cavernous sea stretches beyond what conventional instruments are capable of recording, apparently varying in size; sonar is ineffective at mapping the Expanse, which seems to shift due to surrounding volcanic activity. The air itself is unnaturally temperamental, going from freezing cold to humid with but a simple shift in degrees. Numerous islands dot the Expanse, some allegedly boasting their own residents. Sailors are encouraged not to disembark anywhere save for the Moor, for while the savages who live on the ocean of their own volition may be polite, there are myriad reports of ritual sacrifice, cannibalism, and other unspeakable horrors.

The chilling mysticism of the Expanse is ever-present, tentacular creatures drifting underneath ships waiting for a crew-member to stumble overboard. To leave on a light for too long is to invite certain other creatures to drag the ship to the bottom, perhaps offended by the illuminating presence. A balance must be struck between lighting the way and bearing the suffocating darkness, for to do only one is to open one's self to their demise. The intimidating statues which line the walls rarely appear the same each time, grotesque half-broken figures looming o'er passers-by. Orphic temples can be seen on some islands, but it is always recommended that those who wish to live avoid them at all costs. There's a certain primal fear which repels the wise from these places, but sometimes, even they are preferable to the open ocean.

Pirate lairs dot the Expanse, their inhabitants kept sane only by their desire for loot. They take refuge not in numbers, but in their unabated creativity, drilling deep into the island walls on which they reside and sequestering themselves from the unnatural things lurking in the water. These fortresses can conceal the raiders for ample amounts of time, during which they refuel their ships and prepare to molest trading ships. Sometimes they even dare to attack the coast of the Moor, though this is more rare given the recent introduction of cannons to their arsenal. The pirates often work with some of the Moor-based cults, providing information and charting the statuary in exchange for slices of culture from the Moor itself. The populations of pirates usually come from those poor souls exiled from the Sunken Moor. The pirates also have access to submarine technology.

While many of the horrors of the Expanse are purely imaginary, there is no doubt that true monsters do reside in the tinted waters. Enormous tentacled beasts constantly pull vessels to the bottom, cracking open their hulls and devouring their crews. It is said that shark-like beasts the size of freighters threaten to swallow boats whole, while even more massive monsters that walk upright haunt the abandoned temples and foul islands. To see one is to gaze into the eyes of insanity; to fight one, to embrace it.

Escape from the Black Expanse back to the surface is possible, though only for one ship at a time. To the West of the Expanse, there is a pass where the water seems to flow in reverse, carrying ships to the surface of the Atlantic once more. Braving this pass is a dangerous endeavor, though it seems to be the only escape from the dank caverns and deadly waters.

Outsiders and their Treatment - The Secret-Keepers

Citizens of the Sunken Moor are polite to those who wash ashore, provided they don't act too oddly or break any rules. However, those who express interest in revealing the existence of the Sunken Moor are...persuaded...not to do so. Leading theorists within almost every cult of the Moor declared that if the world at large were to learn of the Black Expanse's existence, the coming exploration and eventual exploitation of the Expanse would disturb the greater horrors living beneath. With their awakening would undoubtedly come the end of the Sunken Moor.

It is for that reason that a special sect of Secret-Keepers was established, elite combatants who are committed fully to preventing the existence of the Expanse from becoming public. Their unknown powers come from the crystals underneath the Moor, often embedded into their masks or sword-handles. Their constant policing of the various streets causes a great degree of paranoia, some even declaring that the monstrous men are in league with the massive creatures of the Beneath.

The reality is that they are simple citizens, just like the others, who are afforded greater opportunity to understand the Expanse. When not on duty, they walk among every class of the Sunken Moor, serving other jobs, such as merchants, grocers, scholars, and historians. They are committed to the Moor, but their greater knowledge of the goings-on of both the government and the nature of the cavernous sea in which they live changes them, and makes them distinct from the other more lifeless citizens. Some are even inclined to leave.

Expert sailors, stalkers, and conversationalists, the unique Secret-Keepers can be found even on the forbidden islands, ready to slip their blades between the shoulders of anyone who suggests they may reveal the existence of the Black Expanse to the world at large. Their swords do not kill, though; instead, it is said they rob the memory of anyone they touch, before quietly returning them to the Sunken Moor.

Mystic Oddity - The Locus of Madness

Beneath the darkened waters, there swirls an unknown power, ancient and dangerous. A gentle green glow taints the surrounding waters, swirling forces compelling the high-minded to approach...and frightening away those with any sense of survival. The so-called Locus of Madness is the heart of the mystery of the Black Expanse, interfering with sailors' instruments and disturbing any sort of electrical device. The Locus also interferes with arcane arts, distorting their effects and in some cases making travel by non-physical means utterly impossible. Psychics are weakened dramatically in the Black Expanse, as are most other powered individuals, who will find that their regularly-superhuman capabilities are now meaningless in the face of the great swirling abyss.

To stare into the Locus of Madness is to lose one's self forever.

Proceed with caution, stranger.

OOC

• The Black Expanse is a relatively small neutral location kept secret from humanity. The general populace of Earth is not aware of its existence and would be skeptical of it were it brought up; only rumors of the whirlpool and records of the failed voyage of the expansionist fleet in the 1800s would indicate there were something odd there.
• Superhuman abilities of nearly any sort are "nerfed" in the Black Expanse due to the reality-warping nature of the Locus of Madness. For example, characters who could fly before would only be able to hover gently from the ground.
• Sell the insanity. Those without especially strong minds will begin to lose it if they are out on the water for too long.
• Traditional CVU rules apply aside from that.

Neat. Reminds me of Fallen London.

Damn you went hard on this, I am gonna need a reason to visit sometime soon.

The rules say that powers would be nerfed here but because of the fact I have power over water how would that affect me I'd imagine temperature manipulation is out the window but what else I wonder?

Took some art right from the series! I've only ever played Sunless Sea, though, which I think is set in the same universe.

It's up to you how you get affected, if you manage to find your way here. It's mostly just so people can't come down here and wipe the floor with the Beneath, which pretty much preserves the unsettling setting.

@supra-man: Okay then I'll try to figure it out then i would likely find this place by accident as well. So I might just be coming soon.

This is really cool. I gotta find an excuse to bring one of my characters here so I can see what happens when they go crazy.

...crazier, anyway. I gotta write some characters who aren't already crazy. =/

@bladebrave: lol my characters already crazy but if I stay for to long I likely start to doubt everything.

@orange_water:

Maybe if I send my characters there they'll start acting normal and sane.

Or maybe they'll just be crazy in different ways. Yeah... I gotta hang out here. Anyone want to come hang out here with me? Probably @fallen_savant me, because if you're gonna go crazy, you might as well get a head start.

@boschepg:

Following this blog

Insanity Beckons...

In the frailty of starlight, Saikea stood unmoving on a ship of shadows while the world trickled by in an endless expanse of dark water. Somewhere below, she felt the pull of the nether light and the shadows it cast, though she could not say for certain where it lay, coiled and unrestive, a dreamer's fit in a realm fit for nightmares. She called to it, or it to her, an unconscious hum casting a fisherman's line through the waves, unbaited.

In shadows unabated, she waited above, the stretch of a sail of shadow-made-solid casting a delicate filigree over the waves where it rippled. They called her, and she knelt obeisance, trailing a finger through the water and bringing it to her lips, tasting the salt of the tears of the gods on her tongue.

She closed her eyes and exhaled through sea-wet lips, breathing the salt air back towards the waves, then rose and scanned the horizon, waiting for the tell-tale heart to beat out its rhythm below and call her toward the deep. Somewhere, restive potential awaited her, and she yearned for its definition as the shadows within her cried out their silent screams, warning and desire and agony and ecstasy. She envied them, and bound them more tightly, warding herself against their allure.

The horizon rippled, and the dark water stretched on, endless and full of terrors. She smiled, and felt at home.

@fallen_savant: from the Chronicles of John Black

I have had the same vision since the day we arrived in the Moor long ago. The same night, the same outcome - and at the end of it I see the same vision. Someone will come one day. They will come over the vast distance of reality, in the depths of of darkness itself, someone was coming - whether it is for me or for you- someone was coming.

I heard of the Expanse within a whisper. That whisper led us from Velenzuela to another whisper in Argentina to Europe and even over time itself. I was on the run since the day we discovered each other. I have been hated since I could remember. The problem with hate is that it lingers even if you escape antiquity itself. That whisper turned into a myth and that is when I knew we could run here, to a place where there was nothing but darkness and despair - some place where we could both hide.

The nights are becoming short. I can sense it. When you live in the dark long enough you know the tell signs. It is coming.

You think I'm crazy for thinking this?

I cant help but laugh at that. I am John Black outside the Moor. I am the boogeyman. Before you knew me I was the one that demons feared around the corner. That was my reality - is my reality crazy?

What? I'm not the one speaking to a dead person? You may have a point. I have to admit that you talk a lot more since we arrived here.

@boschepg:

Pinprick stars began to fade against the expanse above as the gray unlight of false dawn began its assault on the horizon. Below, the waves whispered lullabies and insanity. Saikea rejected one, embraced the other. Patience was a virtue of mankind, but the undoing of the gods. They watched from afar while their creations crew ever more powerful, usurpers of the idolization once they had claimed. Once one and yet still not the other for all her attempts, Saikea was restive, waiting for light.

The witching hour neared its end with nothing but a susurrus, and she let the rocking waves draw her down into dreams.

In the cold chamber of her mind, shadows chafed at their bonds, endless slate gray walls tiled around them, a dull surface that refused to reflect the light of the chains that bound them - the shadows, along the outskirts of the chamber, and the woman in their midst, anchor for the bindings of light that held the shadows' wills at bay, subverted to her own. They whispered, condemnations and congratulations, and she drew their power through her and around her, wrapped herself in it to ward off the terrors in the outer sea, shadow against shadow, one beckoning insanity and the other cradling it within.

She slept, and pushed her willpower out through the chains. Somewhere in the depths beyond her, the lotus of madness stirred, echoes within echoes. It recognized its would-be scion, and she shivered as she felt its caress within her.

When she awoke, dawn had broken, and perhaps something else. She would the shadows around her, shield against light, and pulled them down, into the boundless depths. The water embraced her cocoon and pulled it deeper, released her on to a misbegotten shore. She let the shadows unfold, dark wings trailing back into the water, and stepped forward.

Always these days she was alone, but there was a man on the beach as well. Without reason, she went to him.

@fallen_savant:

Black had often looked across the horizon into the emptiness of nothing. It was not the the pitch black but the whispers that called to many, the one that actually took people into the depths and then into nothingness. John was a husk, a man with no soul, but he still heard the damn whispers. He couldn't stop hearing them. How could he, to John it was a cross between agony and desire.

He felt something solid grace his shoulder. It was another one who followed the calling. He ran with a horrible gaggle, rushing into the black water splashing its curse around until he was gone. It still bothered John every time he saw it happen - a soul just disappearing from existence. John being a curious bastard led him to many of the Cults, but never too close or open to effect his status in the Moor.

He continued to stare out feeling eyes gaze upon him.

"Do you hear them?" John asked openly. "Do you hear the whispers?"

He turned not waiting for an answer, walking to a setup with a silver hair man sitting dead still.

"What's that?" John asked as if the body said something. "No, I do not know her."

He turned to her, noticing freshness into the Moor. He had been that same way when he first arrived. "My friend wants to know are you there or are you seeking?"

John chuckled aloud answering a question not posed verbally. "I think she is seeking, but I could be wrong."

John squatted looking into a chest, tossing things around in a skirmish. His head popped over the chest and gazed deeply at the woman, reaching one hand carefully to his rear. "Are you a castaway?" Asking if she was affiliated with the Pirates. The Moor had its quaky rules. It had its unwritten laws, and following them is how one survived in the depths.

@boschepg:

Saikea watched the man on the beach as he squatted down beside a dead body, rummaging around within the gaping cavity between the dead man's ribs and tossing entrails unheeded onto the beach, jetsam on the dark sands. She considered his inquiry with more gravity than it warranted.

"Everyone is a castaway from somewhere," she answered, after a while. "But in this place, I came of my own will. We shall see how long it holds out." She watched him, the man who embraced the dead from within. "What is this place that I have called, that answers me with my own presence? It... caresses my dreams, aching for release." Her eyes turned from him for a moment, towards the endless water. "I feel its touch on my shadow."

It whispered of ecstacies, if she brought it inside, but she denied it, belonging to another. Within her, his child stirred, and she wondered what the shadows made of that little spark. Still she denied them, though - that spark was hers to make something of, and no one else's . Her glory and her brilliance, untainted. In this, her own shadows had yielded to her will, seeking her instead while she defended their incursion elsewhere. She minded not, for they tasted sweet to her, soft as silk within their chains.

The shadows here were other, unbound and unrestrained, and in them she tasted the salt of the sea and the depth of their agony. Even so, she desired them as they desired her, cognizant of the kindred spirits bound within.

She wondered what they desired of the man on the beach, who echoed with the fulfillment of death, and she wondered whether or not he had already given it to them.

Time flowed, in all places. Perhaps it flowed differently. Saikea did not think so, but thought rather that it was the perception of time that flowed differently, in places where perception was subjugated to its own whims. It was not that she couldn't say how long she had courted the shadows from beneath the water, but rather that there had been a quiet cessation of the perception that such a quantity held meaning.

However it flowed, it dripped down in little increments, spilling from the waves above onto the sands below, sometimes a trickle, sometimes a waterfall. She sat on the sand, gravid, cupping her hands around the droplets of black water and watching them spill down her fingers, shadows on the sand. Sometimes, she thought, they writhed a little as they left her fingers. Sometimes, she went with them, but usually she came back to herself after a while.

It was quiet, the stillness of the depths. There had been others, occasionally, wandering through. She had spoken to a few, or they to her, in the immutable time in which she had stayed there, but sooner or later the voices left, and only the whispers of the shadows remained. She thought, sometimes, that they were easier to hear, when all was still and quiet around them. They whispered, always, secrets and promises, hints of futures trapped in dreams.

When time became too much, she would sleep, and they would speak to her in the chamber within her mind, bound and pleading in their chains. The white bindings strained - held fast against the screams, but the whispers traveled along them, echoes here and there, abrading and unraveling. She pushed what willpower she could into the mending, but the green lotus often called her attention away, promising enough power to bind them for good, if only she could catch it.

She slept, and the green light pervaded the slate chamber. It did not speak, but it still called her. She courted it, whispering to it that it might come closer. The shadows pulsed. In the dark halls, she felt one of them break free.

She should have cared, but the green light was in her eyes, and it seemed to matter very little.