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| The Pebble Beach | |
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| Category | Story Event |
| Type | Story |
| Data ID | 286684 |
The Pebble Beach is a Sunless Skies Story Event.
Story description[]
This is a beach. Of course, it is a beach. What else could it be? It is a stretch of pale particulates and roiling mists. The air smells of salt and things that mummified in the sun, of cinnamon and liquorice. It is pebbles and grains of blue glass, tendrils of something curious and organic: worm-like growths tufting through the sediment. This is exactly what beaches are.
Trigger conditions[]
Area: Limbo
Frequency: Always (100%)
Interactions[]
| Actions | Requirements | Effects | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|
| Seek out the stained-glass aristocrats
Rich totter around the port sneering. Their eyes are an affectation, a mimicry of the mist-change done to long-term port workers. If you convince them you're their peer, they'll help to pare the lies away.
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Seeing with new eyes
A giggling creche of aristocrats stand waiting by the water, their stained-glass eyes incandescent. "Sea glass," they say when you ask. "Hand-gathered in the mists. Hand-inserted by specialists."
Your gossip makes them shriek with laughter. When they've finished relishing another's misfortune, they take you by the arms and legs. One, with more delicacy than you'd expect, peels your eyelids apart. Someone gently whispers, "This will only hurt a little." It's a lie. When the tears finally stop flowing, you can see more clearly: the port's naive attempts to be anything but what it is. |
Game note: This will assist you to see Worlesbury Weirdness around the beach and Worlebury-juxta-Mare.
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| Wonder: what makes the jaunt so disconcerting?
A smell billows from the undulating fog: something familiar, something terrifying.
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Failed event |
Advanced query needs investigation Game note: This enables you to investigate the weirdness of Worlebury-juxta-Mare and offers a potentially rewarding opportunity. |
For the flash of a heartbeat, Worlebury-jutxa-Mare peels normalcy from its smiling face and you see everything. Everything that was, is, could be, and had been in a thousand nightmare dimensions.
Or maybe, you'd inhaled some airborne hallucinogens. It's hard to tell, sometimes.
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| Successful event | |||
| Not the nicest walk
It is hard to miss the phenomenon now that you've spent so much time on the beach. Scintilla of ultramarine light tangle like strands of long hair, or the tendrils of something massive. They are beckoning you. Something is beckoning you.
This is perfectly normal. This is precisely how beaches are.
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| Leave swiftly
Cold frissons trickle down your spine, dragging your attention southwards. Oh dear. Your clothes are in tatters.
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The shame
Your beautiful garments are nothing but rags now. Well-dressed onlookers gawk and giggle, whisper and point. You look bedraggled, shabby and, worst of all, unfashionable.
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Game note: You have exhausted these opportunities for now.
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| Walk down the beach
You promenade down the pale-ish sand. Be careful where you step.
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A stroll
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| Rare event (undefined%) | |||
A good stroll
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| Search for a lost sigil deep in the mists
You'll need to give the person lowering you on a rope a permit. Otherwise they will not let you below the 'safe' depth.
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Written in the flesh
Tentacled life tugs and teases at your ankles. But that is all – there is not a hint of a sigil. Where is it supposed to be? You tug twice on the rope. Deeper.
A parting in the mists; the parabola of massive flank. A vast spine thrusts out, inches from your dangling limbs. Tattooed upon it – in a painful shade of purple – is the sigil, glowing like a fever. The rope tightens, and you are pulled out into the air. Mist plumes from your lungs.
 One Fateful Event that Depends on Countless Others
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| Go dipping in the 'sea'
Ah, the most adventurous of pursuits: a dip into the mists of Worlebury-juxta-Mare. It'll ruin your clothes, but sacrifices must be made.
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Precarious descent
You are lowered into the mists, a rope around your waist. "If it kicks up a fuss, just kick it in the face a few times. You'd be fine."
Wait. What was that he said? Paddle in the 'Sea'(Paddle)
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| Rare event (5%) | |||
| Precarious descent
A man lowers you into the mists, a rope firmly tethered around your waist. He assures you that he hasn't lost any adults. Only the occasional fractious child.
Paddle in the 'Sea'(Paddle)
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| Complete the ritual
Another bacchanal to attend. You will endure it as best you can.
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Failed event |
Game note: You will be able to participate again at the cult's next ritual. Return to the Church in fifteen days to participate. |
| Unpleasant repast
The cultists in attendance are less effervescent than those in the church, more reserved, possessed of a reverent uneasiness. They make space for you in their midst, permitting access to a cauldron stinking of salt.
"Chew but don't swallow." warns a robed cultist. You're given a mouthful of ... something tensile, reminiscent of sinew boiled to imperviousness. You try to gnaw on it, but the salt-oil slick causes you to retch, bile to rise in your throat. You choke and spit; the cultists regard you with sad disappointment. Whatever was needed of you, you have failed.
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| Successful event | |||
| Unpleasant repast
The cultists in attendance are less effervescent than those in the church, more reserved, possessed of a reverent uneasiness. They make space for you in their midst, permitting access to a cauldron stinking of salt.
"Chew but don't swallow," warns a robed cultist. You're given a mouthful of... something tensile, reminiscent of sinew boiled to imperviousness. There must be something inside this. You remove the lump and tear it apart with your fingers until at last you find a length of black bone. The cultists look approvingly at you as one spirits the jag of calcium away. The group disbands. Whatever happened is over.
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| Join in the ritual, and observe
Another bacchanal to attend. What can you learn by participating?
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Failed event |
Game note: You will be able to participate again at the cult's next ritual. Return to the Church in fifteen days to participate. |
| Unpleasant repast
The cultists in attendance are less effervescent than those in the church, more reserved, possessed of a reverent uneasiness. They make space for you in their midst, permitting access to a cauldron stinking of salt.
"Chew but don't swallow." warns a robed cultist. You're given a mouthful of ... something tensile, reminiscent of sinew boiled to imperviousness. You try to gnaw on it, but the salt-oil slick causes you to retch, bile to rise in your throat. You choke and spit; the cultists regard you with sad disappointment. Whatever was needed of you, you have failed.
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| Successful event | |||
| Unpleasant repast
The cultists in attendance are less effervescent than those in the church, more reserved, possessed of a reverent uneasiness. They make space for you in their midst, permitting access to a cauldron stinking of salt.
"Chew but don't swallow," warns a robed cultist. You're given a mouthful of... something tensile, reminiscent of sinew boiled to imperviousness. You gnaw on the lump as you've been told until at last there is nothing but a length of black bone. You spit it out. The jag of calcium is quietly taken away. The group disbands. Whatever happened is over.
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| Partake in the ritual
Another bacchanal to attend. Some other flesh to taste.
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Failed event |
Game note: You will be able to participate again at the cult's next ritual. Return to the Church in fifteen days to participate. Game note: Your appetites have reduced the difficulty. |
| Unpleasant repast
The cultists in attendance are less effervescent than those in the church, more reserved, possessed of a reverent uneasiness. They make space for you in their midst, permitting access to a cauldron stinking of salt.
"Chew but don't swallow." warns a robed cultist. You're given a mouthful of ... something tensile, reminiscent of sinew boiled to imperviousness. You try to gnaw on it, but the salt-oil slick causes you to retch, bile to rise in your throat. You choke and spit; the cultists regard you with sad disappointment. Whatever was needed of you, you have failed.
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| Successful event | |||
| Unpleasant repast
The cultists in attendance are less effervescent than those in the church, more reserved, possessed of a reverent uneasiness. They make space for you in their midst, permitting access to a cauldron stinking of salt.
"Chew but don't swallow," warns a robed cultist. You're given a mouthful of... something tensile, reminiscent of sinew boiled to imperviousness. Nothing worse than other things you have consumed. There is something inside this. You remove the lump and tear it apart with your fingers until at last you find a length of black bone. The cultists look approvingly at you as one spirits the jag of calcium away. The group disbands. Whatever happened is over.
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| Partake in the ritual, and observe
Another bacchanal to attend. More flesh to taste. What can you learn by participating?
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Failed event |
Game note: You will be able to participate again at the cult's next ritual. Return to the Church in fifteen days to participate. Game note: Your appetites have reduced the difficulty. |
| Unpleasant repast
The cultists in attendance are less effervescent than those in the church, more reserved, possessed of a reverent uneasiness. They make space for you in their midst, permitting access to a cauldron stinking of salt.
"Chew but don't swallow." warns a robed cultist. You're given a mouthful of ... something tensile, reminiscent of sinew boiled to imperviousness. You try to gnaw on it, but the salt-oil slick causes you to retch, bile to rise in your throat. You choke and spit; the cultists regard you with sad disappointment. Whatever was needed of you, you have failed.
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| Successful event | |||
| Unpleasant repast
The cultists in attendance are less effervescent than those in the church, more reserved, possessed of a reverent uneasiness. They make space for you in their midst, permitting access to a cauldron stinking of salt.
"Chew but don't swallow," warns a robed cultist. You're given a mouthful of... something tensile, reminiscent of sinew boiled to imperviousness. You gnaw on the lump as you've been told – it is nothing worse than other meals you have consumed. Soon, there is nothing but a length of black bone. You spit it out. The jag of calcium is quietly taken away. The group disbands. Whatever happened is over.
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| Return to Worlebury-juxta-Mare's arcade
You lazily wander back towards the arcade, your clothes soaked from proximity to the mists.
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Worlebury-juxta-Mare
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Links[]
Links In[]
Worlebury-juxta-Mare, One Fateful Event that Depends on Countless Others
Links Out[]
Worlebury-juxta-Mare, 
Welcome to Worlebury-juxta-Mare, One Fateful Event that Depends on Countless Others
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