MOD EVENT #001

[oblivium]

A CHAOTIC RESPITE

It isn't rare for the seasons in the Netherworld to be a little erratic, though many days have passed now without much of a hint of its typical mercuriality, a good and a bad omen all at once. This respite is commonly referred to as the proverbial "calm before the storm", but it also marks the beginning of merrier celebrations. The Moons above are gilded silver, the twilight sky edged with faint pink and orange -- a sunrise phantasm, spilling over the horizon. It's an infrequent spectacle, accompanied by a dulcet breeze and light drizzles that seem to encourage growth nearly everywhere. Unfortunately, under its influence, people seem a little on edge, quick to anger, but no matter; around Stygia, Restless have begun hanging decorations and ornaments on trees and windowsills, left to catch the moonlight and give off marigold and ginger glows, warmly lighting up the city. Rather than fish, the smell of freshly ground spices permeates the air in the Harbors, Mirth keeps its doors opened to all, but just before the festivities officially begin, a cacophony of chimes resounds all over, a transmission difficult to ignore.

On the screen of your cellphone, nothing; only a voice, ragged, out of breath...

“The woods... Oakwoods! They've come alive! O-One minute he was complaining about the water seeping into his boots, and the next he was... he was being yanked up into the trees! We didn’t see what happened to him, but we heard... the screams, ohh, the screams. Please! Come to Serene, I beg you. This is our safest sanctuary, and the lan... oh, no... wait, no, please... please... NOOO--”

...and the feed abruptly ends, a dull chirr of static. Will you ignore the stranger's call for help and feast, or venture into the woods?

► I. KNOCK ON WOOD (OH PUCK, HE'S HOT!)

When you cross the gates of Serene, an old woman welcomes you, palm flat against her chest and disquiet in her eyes. Myrtille, her name. Oakwoods loom dense and dark in the distance behind her, groaning low as leaves rustle without wind. The Mourning Lantern was stolen, and malevolence rose in turn, dooming them all.

“It was once kept here, a sacred Artifact crafted from the bones of Serene's first founder, who gave her heart’s blood willingly to the woods in an act of contrition. It's the absence of the lantern that is contributing to the wood’s unusually active malice, and if you lot cannot retrieve it, then we must sacrifice another. Go! Take these torches and go, before Oakwoods swallow us whole.”

So you've decided to be brave. Commendable, or foolish? The wood is dark and shrouded in mist, and the trees crowd around you, an absent wind somehow whispering foul nothings in your ear as dead leaves rustle around your feet. Your Shadow basks in the murmurs, sensing the malign presence in Oakwoods as a faint, garbled scream echoes in the distance. You wander deeper and the canopy thickens, thin streaks of moonlight peppering the woods in deep patches of darkness. Behind you, a creature you can't see hisses, and a fluttering of wings nearby alerts you to the arrival of snickering harpies lurking on branches. “Dead,” they croak, in a sing-song chorus. “Dead as daylight.” Oddly enough, they seem content to just watch and stalk you, perhaps expecting you to die quickly, an easy and effortless meal.

It's a frustrating errand if you've ever known one. You barely know what you're looking for, and your Shadow thrives in the dark, taunting, coaxing. You hear it then; a haunting melody, the silhouette of a boy on a fallen tree trunk, strumming. “Come,” he says, with a voice that shimmers like the sun on moving water. If you remember what that's like. “Rest a while. Forget your troubles.” For anyone familiar, you'll recognize him as a Puck, famous prankster, and from his hand dangles a lantern.

► If you attempt to take the lantern from him, he'll immediately drop it to the ground, causing it to break. You may choose to kill him and offer his blood to the woods, or let him go and bleed in his stead. Myrtille should be able to repair what's left of the lantern once the offering's been made.
► If you politely ask to return it, he promises that he will... if you indulge him for the night.

No matter what you choose, you will come across camps, either on your way in or on your way back: pitched tents, most moth-eaten, and some containing vestiges of prior expeditions such as putrid corpses or rotten food. You've been wandering for a while, and sleep sounds terribly inviting. Unfortunately, a wind finally picks up, and leaves begin to blow around you. A nick, then a cut, then a slash reveal the leaves to have razor sharp edges. Sleep well yet? If you've spared the Puck, he'll encourage you to sit with him around a campfire, where he'll sing and tell stories. Or are they. Perhaps you've heard of Bloody Mary before. Slenderman? The Devil that'll make you dance until you die? While the lantern remains in stranger hands, the thread between reality and fiction narrows; protagonists from the Puck's legends come to life, and the only way to rid of them is by quenching the flames of the fire.

Your journey unfortunately doesn't end there. The Puck has a riddle for you: I am a word that is hardly there. Remove my start, and I'm an herbal flair. What am I?

If you fail to answer correctly, he'll vanish before you, and you can bid the lantern goodbye. You'll be forced to gather the bones from the corpses scattered across the woods, and feed it your blood -- or a friend's -- before you escape and return to the woman. The offering will leave you drained and exhausted, weak on your legs. If, on the other hand, you do answer correctly, the lantern is yours, and you'll be teleported out of the woods with a boon in your pocket: a piece of parchment invites you to visit your home in the Shadowlands. There, you'll find an object (or a pet) that belonged to you in your world.

the answer to the riddle is sparsely! it's up to you whether you'd like your character to fail.
legends told around the campfire can be any of the ones mentioned above or any other that might strike your fancy! go wild, have fun!
remember that if you pick an item from your character's world as their boon, it'll eventually disintegrate unless reforged with a soul.

.

► II. GO BIG OR GOURD HOME

Welcome to the Frightful Harvest, a festival that marks the beginning of the Respite, a temporary period of tranquility between seasons. It acknowledges the blessings offered and the role that both good and evil play in the Netherworld. It is a time to give thanks, but more importantly, it is a time of reflection and warding. Warding against not only the darkness of the next seasons to come, but of the nefarious creatures and struggles that will undoubtedly follow.

Carved pumpkins and straw bales are placed everywhere around the city, and streamers and banners are hung from every home and storefront. Decadent cakes, candies, and pastries are made in over-abundance in order to accommodate everyone, and from the lush gardens of Radiance, an elderly, dark-robed man addresses the Netherwork. You'll learn by eavesdropping on nearby Restless that his name is Doran, the oldest among you and loved by all. His smile stretches kind, and while not an official member of the Hierarchy, it's clear he has certain privileges -- well-deserved, or so you hear.

“Let us gather, feast, dance and celebrate. Let us hold our glasses high for those who heroically perished, for goodness, and for the Ascended. May their journey inspire us to change our lives and the lives of others, to resist evil, and to triumph. To you, dear friends!”

And without further ado, let the festivities begin!

► BARDIC BLITZ
The bardic blitz is a friendly competition that pits talented musicians against one another in an attempt to win over the affection of the crowd through festive melodies or personal compositions. Although it can be hosted just about anywhere, the bardic blitz is normally held in a large canvas tent directly in the heart of Mirth, though smaller crowds also gather in Serene and the Harbors around bonfires.

► FEAST
Although all cultures around Stygia bring their own tastes and specific flair to the celebrations, there are a few staple trade goods that you can find at nearly any celebration of the holiday throughout the city. Many producing the various cakes, beverages, and cookies also use the time to test and perfect their recipes, teaching others or using them as guinea pigs.

► Firstdawn Tea: This revitalizing crimson tea soothes the mind and body and is brewed from the roots of the dawn flower, which only sprouts during the Respite.
► Grablenuts: These fist-sized brown nuts have a hard, stippled outer shell and soft, delicious spicy centers. A single bite will slightly lower your inhibitions, and you may find yourself seeking proximity and warmth.
► Elysium: A nonalcoholic beverage that smells and looks as bad as it tastes. Only those with the strongest will manage to gulp it down. Once drunk, the person experiences true bliss, which seems to last for hours; in reality, it's only a few minutes.
► Will-o-the-Whiskey: Whisky with minor hallucinatory effects, visual and auditory.
► Sundrop: A pound cake coated in a sugary lemon drizzle. No side-effects, just delicious!
► Shadowfell Candy: Chewing on this candy will grant the character a deep and rejuvenating sleep, during which they will appear dead to anyone.

. ► HARVEST HUNT
The harvest hunt happens in a corn maze located in Mirth's amusement park, specifically created for the occasion. Because of the labyrinthian horrors dwelling in the Tempest, some find the terror-free replica a little inappropriate, yet participants still abound every time. A favorite seasonal game of the exuberant and athletic, characters take on the role of either hunter or prey, racing through the maze to either corner their quarry or escape the hands of their pursuer. As long as Shadows behave, it's a relatively safe activity. Friendly spars sometimes occur, picnics, and star-gazing.

► THE PARADE
The parade is the activity most looked forward to by younger Restless. Citizens clad in colorful costumes walk the streets to the rhythm of festive music, and according to tradition, it helps ward away any lingering evil that might try to hide in the community. For reasons unknown, incidents where Restless unwillingly swap bodies sometimes occur.

► III. WAYWARD SUN

The Warding Ritual is a private affair, a behind-the-scene execution on the last day of the festival as you dance and feast and frolic, blissfully unaware. Something goes awry. First, a shriek in the distance, and soon, birds flying away in apparent surprise as the landscape rustles with the sounds of creatures and Restless alike fleeing. A vague sense of dread knocks the air out of your lungs, an iron grip around your throat. And you see it then, a headless figure shrouded in a black veil of cloth, sword in one hand and a bright flaming pumpkin in the other. Its head. It thunders through the night on its skeletal horse, its blade flashing in the moonlight in search of prey. Heads fall. You might get injured during the chase -- collateral damage. 10 members of the Hierarchy won't ever rise again, and the rider eventually charges into the Tempest, leaving behind bloody puddles and a slather of confusion. If you opt to help clean up the mess, you might come across stained sheets of paper on the ground, a painting of a white scorpion in the middle. Otherwise, it's time for you to go home.

---

ooc note

► Welcome to Nightfell's first event! If you'd like additional, more casual prompts, the Notice Board is right here! New prompts will be added next month, if you've already had your fun with them!
► You'll find some answered questions here, but if you'd like to ask something else, please comment below!
► For a little spooky ambience in the woods.

Comments

[declass]

You say that as if it's a bad thing. I think this place would benefit a lot more from sunflowers.

[ some places are less dreary than others-- this one, for example. normally, anyway, since the recent burst of chaos has definitely dampened things. but she thinks that a few more spots of brightness might make things feel a little more comfortable.

maybe. ]

Alright... I'll try to be more careful. [ at the very least, rosa isn't reckless enough to do anything dangerous for no reason, so there's that. ] You must have been working hard to find things to use here for this.

made 2 b

[m67]

[ suddenly, she's ugly. nuts, split-personality, she's hearing yoru— this is all overwhelmingly too much. anything that asa tries to say is too softspoken and stuttering. she can't speak of the other girl, swallows tight— i can't do anything about this, yoru pipes. you're terrified. ]

I-I—I, [ asa places a hand to her temple. she can't. believe this. not only does she have one bodily intruder, but two??? ] I'm not, I'm not going to kill you, I swear, I— [ quick. out with it. ] — I'm hearing your thoughts. And you're hearing mine.

[ . . . ]

Ours.

[ that was one way to direct the conversation. ]

[windsongs]

[ 'Mother' Nyx. That's not something she necessarily expect to add to that name, but... it makes sense. And as his smile warms, she knows immediately that it's not for her. It hits hard and true, pulling up something Hibiki genuinely hasn't thought about since arriving here.

Maybe if she searches hard enough, she might run into her own--

Not important; she drags herself away from that wistful reverie to focus on Zagreus's words. But it's less about the places in the Underworld, but the question he asks afterward with an almost child-like wonder. She can't help but smile in return, incandescently bright as she tilts her head as well. ]

Wanna find out?

[dreamlords]

I'm...not cold.

[ which was a very backwards way of saying maybe he was a little warm. but it was hard to admit certain things especially when it came to things that were getting to him. ]

Perhaps the temperature is just different here.

[ that wasn't it. ]

[dodgeouttahell]

Never one to say no to a gift like that, he reaches for the cape tentatively still. It's heavy, heavier than he thought, and Zagreus smiles at it and its rich blue. As someone who's been intimately acquainted with the harsh and dry cold of Lady Demeter's wrath—read, faceplanted on it several times under his own Father's attack—he still appreciates the gesture.

Thank you. [He swings the cape so it will drape over his shoulders, but before clasping it shut, he pauses.] Won't you be cold, though? [He raises his arm questioningly, offering the other end of the cape. Zagreus isn't exactly a juggernaut of a godling, so there's room for everyone.

Any other time he hadn't snacked about as he watched people walk and dance past, he'd actually be a little coyer about it, but as is, Zagreus just thinks nothing of the offered proximity the source of warmth would bring. He instead chuckles.] No offense taken. I wholeheartedly agree. I did try to liven up the place a bit, but there's only so much you can do, considering.

[A group of three children pass by, laughing and wearing garish outfits that Zag doesn't recognize. Still, he compliments them, and they give them both squares of Sundrop that they were carrying in their little bags in return.

Unwrapping the cake piece carefully with a light smile after waving them off, ('Thank you, terrifyingly awesome beings!') Zagreus nods with a sigh.] I also agree with how important it is for them. Living after death can be very daunting, and getting your feet back on the ground may take a while.

[A bite, and he hums.] This is delicious—so, what do you do for fun, then, if you're not partying?

[craters]

（ okay, it's not like she isn't a busybody, but how about you don't call her out like that! she stares at him for a moment, the sharp press of her teeth together to cage all the awful, ugly things she wants to say makes a muscle shiver in the clench of her jaw. finally — ）

By that same logic, then of course I've been doing all other things too, and you didn't need to even ask at all.

（ excuse your logical fallacy, sir. ）

And maybe I'm a busybody, but at least I'm helping people instead of being an asshole!

（ now if he doesn't mind she is going to shove!! dramatically past him!! and stalk off into the night!!

— and trip on an upturned root and go absolutely SPRAWLING a few feet away because she is beauty she is grace she is apparently not watching where she is going like a goddamn moron. ）

[janescayre]

Y-yes. They're a bit like trolls, I suppose. [What would this woman's frame of reference be? She strikes her as Norse, but after seeing the breadth of Restless she can't be certain anyone came from the same Earth as she.] Large, usually with horns, brightly coloured. Infamously violent. Th-they can swallow a human in one gulp.

[A thought less than pleasant considering the circumstances. She gives the bigger woman a sidelong glance as she imparts her two cents, and privately agrees. The harpies themselves are just big buzzards. They're flocking to a corpse at a tent and oof, there goes her gut. Don't mind her shuffling to keep Eivor's body between her and the grim sight. Towa City had corpses a-plenty and packs of brain-washed kids to play with them. Eating them is another thing entirely. She's still not good with gore. She doubts she ever will be.

The woods only thicken as they leave the ill-fated traveler behind. She inches closer, nerves beginning to fail her. Fukawa doesn't think she's been this deep in nature in her whole life. This was a mistake. A huge one. What use could she possibly—

Was that music?

She reaches for the woman's sleeve.]

Um...Th-that...you hear that, right?

[dodgeouttahell]

[A sigh, that's way more disheartened than it should be. His kingdom for a good gyros place. Even those that somehow end up in random urns in a room.

Although, yes, he knows, he's still reeling after what Elysium feels like. Definitely not the Elysium he knows.

Shaking his head, he decides promptly that that's not a good idea, and he rubs his temple with the heel of his hand, massaging it in circles, making the laurels resting on his head skew up a little.] I think he wasn't aiming at anyone else, although… [The swipe of their sword, it was too loose.] It didn't seem to me that they were bothering with being precise.

[janescayre]

[These answers aren't ideal. Can she exchange them for store credit?]

G-great. So anything worthwhile in this musty hell-hole is p-probably wrung out of someone's eternally s-suffering soul. [It makes her feel a little better about being, well. Destitute. Even among the living, it was difficult to amass riches without squashing someone underfoot. Though — anyone Byakuya-sama may have squashed certainly had it coming.

Fukawa wets her lips and tentatively reaches for her own cup of tea. It's the same sort Dimitri's sipping, so theoretically, it should be fine.

Even as she takes the first drink, she doesn't sever from his side. If anything she's scooted closer. His warmth bleeds into her like a salve, and the tea makes her shiver, as if a kindly hand had run through her hair.

The scowl melts. Funny, though their situation seems more bleak than ever, she can't find it in herself to stay mad about it. Fukawa gently dips her head onto Dimitri's shoulder. He may be a lean and muscled man, but the lordly fabrics are soft on her cheek.]

I h-had hoped that maybe death would give us some peace. It j-just seems like more of the same.

[damnpire]

[He doesn't dare even think about touching the watery forms above them, too scared his existent itself will cause them to pop, to wither, to disperse. It's not unlike what he thinks already about himself and others, himself and more fragile things he can destroy easily, like humans.]

The longer you live, the more you're burdened by living. It's why humans live so little. So they don't forget all the things that make living wonderful. So that things change rather than remain stagnant.

[He still doesn't entirely think they are dead--or, rather, there is no way back to the lives they had. But he supposes they may be dead now.]

[damnpire]

[What gives this little Nether, twig-dicked forest sprite the right to laugh at them? Honestly. D should have crushed the Puck's windpipe.]

No.

[It could be both. He starts off without waiting for Joonghyuk even though this idea was Joonghyuk's originally.]

[dodgeouttahell]

I know for a fact that Hell is paved with good and generous intentions, and Elysium is filled with selfish heroes. [A shrug, and he takes a deep breath. He's been dealt with such questions before, from an errant shade to his friends and familiar entities challenging him, passing by the occasional thought that had crossed his mind in the middle of a run through Hades itself.] Does it matter if you truly wish to seek your happiness while helping others?

[At the question, Zagreus does look up as though he were looking towards the surface, further still.] Ah, do you have Frankincense in your bag?

[damnpire]

[What is cute exactly here??? He looks like a terrifying figure in a dark surrealism painting. Besides, Claude is the one who was looking for a way out of the maze initially!!]

You could simply walk through the corn.

[Claude is expectantly peering at him from the cleaned spot. The challenge makes him want to leave simply to do it with no relation to the goading. Is this a date? It feels like Claude is setting him to decline and go away on purpose.

So instead, he walks slowly over to stand.]

1/2, time to flip the script baybee

[janescayre]

[WONDERFUL. She'll have to grab those scissors later, no telling how long her supplies would last.

This chase is going quite swimmingly! Almost enough to make her nostalgic. Ah, those were the good old days! Chasing cute boys through the streets. Stabbing them to death, crucifying their corpses on the alley walls. Evading the cops.

Is that a cake?]

MERMMPH!?!

[RIGHT IN THE FACE??! Syo slaps the bulk of the pastry away but my god, she is covered in icing and crumbs and this is an indignity no serial killer should suffer?? What has she done to deserve this?]

I'm gonna FUCKING KILL YOU! I'll shove those fuzzy ears right up your aa—

[Crumb up the nose.]

Ah! Ah-CHOO!

[damnpire]

When humans hire me to, yes.

[janescayre]

WAAAAUGH!

[The sheer inertia of the sprint sends Fukawa, who has no idea what she's doing here, tumbling head over heels in a spectacular display of ineptitude. She clatters to a halt against a thick wall of corn, legs up, skirt barely doing its job.

She lays there, wheezing, blinking stupidly up at the night sky.]

Wh...wh-wh-what?

[Help??]

[damnpire]

Alright.

[Looks at both a parasite's voice and a Shadow's voice plaguing D's mind. Nods in understanding. Two of them.]

There must be a reason for the culling. Sending a message, or... they believe lowering the number will keep Oblivium at bay perhaps.

[His hand emerges from the front of the cape. He offers her a small, folded piece of dark cloth. Sort of like a handkerchief. Why didn't he give her this before!! Annoying.]

What did they say to you?

[dodgeouttahell]

That's brilliant. [He beams loudly and sounds particularly British there, even when he's supposed to be Greek, after all. Folding just a little to peer at the glower the pumpkin is giving him closely.] That must've taken a while to do. Did you name it?

[Because of course you do, right? Only fair to name a pumpkin so stately.

Turning at the same sound of the crack on the other side of the leafy wall, Zag can't help the pull at his cheek from the thrill of the chase, even if they were the ones being chased, anyway. He nods and tilts his head to head to the right, then, starts to walk.] Your guess is as good as mine. You'd think I'd know a thing or two about mazes after all this while, but this is a totally new experience for me. [A beat.] Kind of corny, right?

[janescayre]

[HRRRNGNGNH SHOULDER TOUCHES!!!]

R-Reede? [Not so much a query as an exclamation of awe. Never had she ever thought that animal ears would look so endearing. Perhaps because they were usually affixed to underage anime girls in trashy hentai, or strapped to a sweaty cosplayer's head at a plague-ridden convention. When they're paired with chiseled cheekbones and a broad, shield-like chest, they seem quite endearing indeed.

Heh...heh.

Her eyes sparkle. Her hands clasp together at her heart.]

I will! I'll m-make good use of the life you've saved this day! ["Life." Whatever, he knows what she means.] I p-promise! Just...come back safely...

[damnpire]

[The fact Silco is so quick to find some speck of malice in everything piques D's general curiosity. This really is a man who has been sanded into a sharp edge by a coarse file.

He wonders if he would be the same sort of man if he had taken a different path, looked at things differently. He probably would.]

Someone like me shouldn't have an afterlife. So I'm surprised to see one at all. [He glances at Silco a little.] What did you think it would look like?

[wrists]

It means exactly what you think it means. [ that he doesn't lie with women. ] In Vere, to spawn a bastard is distasteful. It's forbidden for a royal. Therefore, the proper way is for men to fuck men, and for women to fuck women, until the time comes to produce an heir.

[ all of this is to say that laurent has never come this close to a woman's body. certainly the bandaged arm and leg are unnatural, but the rest... his eyes keep dropping down to his chest. the weight alone is absurd. and she is not dressed in veretian attire — quite the opposite, meaning there is quite a bit of skin on display.

he walks carefully in the sharply pointed shoes, and that's when he realizes it. right between his legs. stark familiarity, something he was not expecting in the body of a woman. well. ]

Control yourself, or your shadow will take over. [ he approaches his body, reaching beneath his jacket to pull out his dagger for safekeeping. ] This is just another one of Stygia's tricks.

[damnpire]

[Dedue should live, that's my son!!

Dimitri can touch his hair. It would surprise him because he does not understand why anyone would touch such a decrepit, awful thing like himself, but he would not mind.

He turns his eyes to look by Dimitri and at the rest of the festival for a moment. Right. It's going on without them. Time is fleeting. He lifts his eyes up at Dimitri.]

I didn't want to get anyone else involved.

[But, alas, he has failed at that.]

pretend it's full of envy

[regression]

[ It would have been funny if she posed and nothing happened. Joonghyuk at least would have been able to figure out what she was trying to do, kind of. Fortunately, they can avoid that kind of embarrassment.

His eyebrows furrow, but assumes that this is just how she talks. His attention shifts to the festival some distance away. ]

I haven't had any of it. [ Back to her. ] Are you planning to join?

[ Since she's been out here, kind of at the outskirts. ]

it's okay!!

[regression]

What do you mean think what it was like to be human?

[ That! Is so vague! But Joonghyuk feels the urgency in trying to channel into something to stay attached to what he thinks is the vessel. Is being human supposed to be reaffirming one's identity? Their existence? He has never been anything other than himself, so he focuses on that as he texts again.

The text comes slower, as he's trying to multitask... Whether it's working or not is difficult for him to tell, but he's still here. He's sure he is. ]

Yes. Still on the roof.

[ Have a video of the vantage point. Hopefully, this is helpful. ]

[declass]

What?

[ deeply wish that rosa would keep running, but she is trying to be a nice person, so she skids to a stop. she doesn't approach the other girl just in case it's some kind of trick, but she'll at least call out to her. ]

Did you trip?