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

[redsoil]

And yet, I offered. If I did not think it an acceptable thing, I would not have said so.

[ He's really not in the business of saying what he doesn't mean; even when gripped by madness during his years as tyrant, he would argue and accept that the cruel things he had said and done were not lies. They were blemishes upon Egypt, horrendous deeds he would pay for, but not lies. ]

Besides, I could say the same to you.

[ Who would want to be bound to an evil god? One whose crimes would outweigh any sense or rationale, one who could hardly bear the touch of another, let alone the thought of binding some part of the fabric of his existence to them. He was judicious, cautious. It's not an offer made lightly; nor, really, is it one made with full honesty. At first glance, D had reminded him so much of his child - all grown, with the rich tumble of curling, dark hair. The dark eyes. The somber, ever-serious brow. He was patient, enigmatic.

Being inside of his body had given him a deeper, more full glimpse into the dhampir's life than he might have ever gotten from simple conversation; D, then, would have been able to feel much of Set's pains as well - the ever-present despair, the effects of anxiety and agony upon his physical body. Ill health, which should not have existed in the divine form, and yet did. ]

Perhaps if I, or even others, could shed blood into the pills you take. I do not believe there is only suffering for you, D. I only ask that you consider it.

[ He folds his own hand across D's, where that strong grasp has found his body and steadied it. ]

[chokuto]

[He says nothing to that, only looks at D for a long moment, as if measuring the extent of that resolve. If it isn't a requirement to live, then perhaps D is justified in such a statement — as it seems he sides more strongly with the human half of his identity, hunting and killing vampires as a profession. But in a place like the Netherworld, where they are driven by those darker thoughts too insidious to easily disregard...

Sasuke eyes him, then lets his gaze slip away. The conversation comes to a lull as words settle.]

I'm leaving.

[He still has a headless horseman to (fail to) catch.]

[nagano]

[ Oh, Kainé. What, was she expecting to go all out, blood for blood with whoever was designated as prey? ...Possibly, and that's honestly valid. At least Kaito specified the sparring bit at some point.

Kaito didn't account for her grabbing the haft and using it to vault over his attack. He's left whipping around to try and use momentum to bring his spear to the other side. Alas, the empath catches her as she stumbles—literally.

Barking a yelp, it's all but inevitable. They're going down and nobody's yelling timber. Dragged into her fall, the pair tumble like lanky limbed weeds as the water continues to carry them tumbling downroad. Eventually, they crash straight into and through several rows of corn stalks before everything washes out. ]

Ugh... This is why I don't do waterslides...

[ Dazed, it takes a moment for Kaito to recognize the metallic clinking of armor jostling or the sight of a pair of guards stomping their way towards the pair. ]

Alright, kids. You two have had enough fun and we've lost enough corn. Get your asses up and out of here!

[ Haha... whoops? ]

[dodgeouttahell]

What? [He looks over his shoulder.

And then…] Oh.

[The ground underneath him scrapes harshly, his feet flaring from red to orange to bright flame, the sole of his foot unscathed as he presses it down on the dirt, turns and he twists.

It's not his footsteps that leave coal and ash on the ground, but the motion between them as he turns back, catches Rusty Ginger after it flies out of the creature's head (it, somehow, startled it and made it dodge, so they've gained 2 seconds of a headstart), and he dashes to the other side.]

Pardon me, mate. [Excuse him, Jonas, he'll make use of the fact that you're taller to just bend down slightly mid-lunge, grab you by the waist and lift you with the other arm as he cradles the pumpkin against his chest with the other.] Hold on!

[And he dashes again, leaving cinders and embers on his trail, the creature screeching and everything blurring around them before steadying and then again, and again.] Let me know if it's far; we may need to turn back! [He throws at the guy he's carrying, looking up before he does another series of three dashes.]

[dodgeouttahell]

[He chuckles, softly, thankful for the moment of amusement before his eyebrows knit in a frown, trying to picture what happened before in his mind's eye.]

He didn't seem set on us, merely other people who were more settled. Does that make sense?

[redsoil]

[ Actually, she has every right to speak to him in this way. That she does is both a dagger within him and a balm; her hate is correct, aimed at the individual who deserves it most. Her wrath is taken in by him, accepted as evidence of his sins. Of course she hates him, of course. She is an effigy of war, a mother who has been torn into gullfeed and left alive to suffer her losses; she is tormented, full of ancient and unknowable depths.

Perhaps he is the only one who can absolve her of her agony. He really ought to allow her to die, if she so chooses. It's that -- she is -- ]

Are you still able to read minds, Gilia St. Loe? The way we connected aboard the ship when I saw you, feral and vast as the sea.

[ He does let go of one of her wrists, just not the one holding her little blade; that one he wrenches roughly, to bruise her a second time and force her fingers to release it to the dirt below. He'll hurt her if he must, he has no issue with it. Let him be that manner of monster. ]

Read mine.

[dodgeouttahell]

[Pls don't be aggressive with the lady, Joonghyuk. Zag can talk instead so you can be all introverted and handsome behind him. He knows that looking pretty is a full-time job, he lived surrounded by people like that.

Those words in particular sound like he's been doing that a lot, and Zagreus can't help the slight frown even as he nods.] A 'Sponsor'? [Is his Father or family involved in that, the same way Olympians offered Boons?]

[dodgeouttahell]

[He mouths the word 'a fae', not understanding what it means. What he does understand: that this is an otherworldly entity, he can sense it in the air brushing around them, and that he's supposed to act cautious.

So he nods, and lingers behind Aspen's wings, peering carefully and keeping quiet. As much as the crackling of his laurels and the hissing of his feet allow, anyway.]

[damnpire]

[While he doesn’t know the specific things she is going through, he does know she is going through something. There is no way he couldn’t know, having spent so long alive, so long watching without speaking, or speaking very little.

His ears are full of her heartbeat, her blood; it isn’t something he can turn off, only something he can now push into the background. The tension in her arm and also his her back under his hand, in her legs, reluctant to let him lead. The sound of her breath changes subtly. She won’t look at him, and it’s true he thinks it might be because he is half of something terrifying.

But even if it saddens him people are afraid of him in general, he doesn’t let it bother him. He wouldn’t make it this long if he did. She can keep her head down; he understands she at least seemed to not mind his company before.

When she pulls back, he easily lets her go as she’d like, refusing to keep her strung to him any longer than necessary.

All he can find to say really is,] You’re welcome, [politely, in his quiet voice. Then:]

You’re not a bad dancer.

[dreamlords]

Are we?

[ no, he does not believe that and she's not going to be able to convince him of that fact either. there's something going on here, sure, but death?

he's an endless and endless just don't die. so he will continue to disbelieve the whole dead thing no matter what he sees. ]

I don't think we're dead. Your lips aren't cold.

[damnpire]

[Honestly, Set has him there even if he would deny it.

Slowly, his lips thin.] I would like to remake the artificial plasma pills, but I don’t know if this world has what I need. I can study your blood perhaps, to see if it’s viable to replicate artificially. [Through Hale, with references from the library and the academy in Serene.]

I don’t know if my body can withstand how long it would take.

[He is quiet for a long moment or two, thoughtful. He’s still not keen on the idea of being linked to someone else like the Hierarchy wants. It isn’t even that items vulnerable, but that it’s dangerous to give someone else the weight of his existence.]

…If it has to be anyone, I would rather it be someone like you instead of someone human.

[He’s between a rock and a hard place. Not wanting to burden others, but not wanting to attack anyone in a fit of madness.]

I’ll consider it.

[damnpire]

[D simply inclines his head slowly, using the hat to nod in farewell to Sasuke.]

Be careful, [is the only thing he says about the hunt for the horseman. Sasuke seems capable to him at least in the way of combat.] Goodbye.

[Because, for some reason, the cryptid abomination is strangely polite.]

[declass]

We could ask around. See who else here has actually used them. But... if we want the most accurate information, it may be best for us to see them for ourselves.

[ she doesn't think people would lie about it, but in the end... it really is better to confirm information than not. easier to make sure no mistakes are made that way. ]

[craters]

It's been a long time since I've had a reason to.

（ reason being... you know, training. but still. in a purely clinical way, it's nice to know that that old skill has come in handy, you know?

she hesitates. bounces once on the balls of her feet, and then steps in a bit closer. leans up, and kisses his cheek. it's most certainly a product of the grablenuts, but even if it wasn't — it does feel right, in the moment. a little show of thanks. ）

We'll have to do it again sometime.

[pissoffbook]

[As she's carried downstream, her cursing is muffled by the torrent. Luckily, she's got Kaito to soften her landing.]

You could've turned off the waterworks!

[She groans as she's also pretty dazed while the guards come clanking up. She lifts herself up onto her arms with Kaito still under her, and glares up at the guards.]

What the hell did you think would happen? [She snaps at the guards as she rolls off of Kaito and onto her back.] You can't let people fight and not expect some goddamn collateral damage!

[Maybe if one of the people fighting wasn't a one woman army that would be the case Kainé...]

[oomfies]

[ Lottie habitually runs away from all her problems, so it feels cathartic in a way to be told to do the same right now. By herself. This is so surreal that she can barely conceal the strange twinge of excitement in her gut at the idea.

Alright. She inhales through her nostrils, a fresh wave of that disgusting smell of blood and rain settles through her. Run far, and run fast.

She shifts her weight from side to side, as if they both have the time for her to feel out just how much weight his legs can carry (a lot, she thinks, because she's so light and bulky at the same time that it's, kind of cool?). She gives a quick sweep over her body, and determines the position that'll cause the least amount of chaffing is: ]

Stop scratching, and wrap your arms around my neck.

[ She sweeps him up far easier than she expects -- she actually gasps at how light her body is, how quickly he's flung up into her embrace. Or is it because he's that strong? She doesn't mull over that long once he's nestled in her arms, carried like a blushing bride. She's adjusting her grip real time, finding the best place to grip onto so he won't be jostled as she books it. ]

Good? Is this good?

[oomfies]

[ His tone is certainly snide, but Lottie doesn't mind. He's acting exactly like she would in private — being rude and condescending, saying things she'd never put into words so no one could trace it back to her. Being plain mean because she knows she's better.

She almost wonders what it'd be like to act like this all the time, and her shadow rears its ugly little head (it explains easily: everyone would hate her, exactly like she's always known). There's a twinge to her nose, a scrunch that leads into a frown. ]

Do you really think just anybody would end up here?

[ She's not saying he's wrong, but this whole thing has to mean something, right? ]

No offense to her but she's definitely not the type I'd see here, you know?

[coherer]

(staring at this blue-haired, skull-mask-wearing guy manhandling the bowl of grablenuts.

why are we here? just to suffer?)

Itchiness, probably. Hives, maybe, too, or reddened skin. Difficulty breathing, definitely. And warts, (jonas says, listing the symptoms off on his fingers one by one. warts, however, he adds for fun. he has to get his kicks somehow.) I hear it's pretty brutal.

(is this his average human revenge?

no, no, because there's no way it'd frighten anyone but a child. the teenager sighs, crossing his arms to better hug warmth close to his body. goddamn, it got chilly out.)

If that nut hasn't bothered you heat-wise, then you're probably good. They might have, like... a building effect, though. I'd be careful if I were you.

[exilire]

You sure about that? I think they feel a bit chilly, actually.

[ he may very well be right about the argument of whether they're actually 'dead' or not — but the comment about her lips can't be brushed under the proverbial rug.

she's eyeing him as carefully as she can muster, given the state she's in, while providing him with an enticing smirk. ]

You may need to test that theory again.

[damnpire]

[THESE KISSES. D doesn’t deserve them at all. This one surprises him as much as anyone touching him would. He’s not angry.

He can’t imagine why anyone would want to even be near someone like him. He lowers the brim of the hat over his eyes for a moment. Bashful…? Then it lifts again.]

I’ll consider it.

[coherer]

Wow, that... is actually worse than I initially thought... (being pressured to cut off his own pinky? undoubtedly more intimidating than someone else doing it.

yubitsume. peer pressure and brainwashing, that's what that is.)

I've wanted to get a tattoo so badly for years, man. I'm jealous of yours—the one on the back of your neck, right? I saw it when we were chilling outside the store.

[craters]

I'll see you around, okay?

（ and, off she goes, cutting through the crowd.

people do have a bit of a tendency to move out of her way... ）

[nagano]

[ And maybe if the other person fighting wasn't prone to elemental property damage...

Kaito wheezes when Kainé rolls off him, simply lifting a hand to lazily wave at the guards. ] Yeah, yeah, whatever. We'll be out...

[ A snap of his fingers conjures another pair of silver hands—though these are normal-sized instead of man-sized. They grab the empath's shoulders and yank him upright. He eventually turns to hold his (actual) hand out for his former opponent. ]

Well, better to be kicked out than dragged out. I think that was enough adrenaline for me today, anyway.

Shall we go?

[seaboard]

"That is a polite term for it." She's not offended, not really. She knew better now, the wisdom and cruelty of her mother. All of it mingled. "Most people found her terrifying, usually. But as I grew older I have understood why she felt she had to be so."

Spirits, she wanted a drink. Her mother would strangle her, acting maudlin like this.

"I am sorry to hear it, you have a kind heart, plain to see." He should be running from her, and yet he tried all the same.

[invinciblemikey]

How much do you know about Japan, though? There's much more than meets the eye.

(or the average hollywood movie, he'd point out, but the conversation switches and his hand touches the tattoo on reflex.)

Where do you want one, and what do you want? It hurts, but if you really want it, it'll be a breeze. Mine... All Bonten members have the same one, but I don't think mine is even the most painful location.