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MOD EVENT #001

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I don't think so.

( aspen rechecks his bag - just a sack made of sturdy cloth with a leather strap, cheap and one of the few things he can afford right now. there are vials of oils and herbs tied together in cheesecloth satchels, some bandages, a small flask, and a tiny little black book. )

I'm set. We should head off before it's too dark. ( he casts a glance to the woods. ) ... darker than it already is.

Alright. [He looks upon himself for a second before tilting his head towards the path as a way to silently ask to follow, so they start walking forward. Aspen was easy to recognize amongst those who were venturing in the woods, wings and all, so he quickly had come close to say hi, and both decided to go for it together.] Have you ever gone through this kind of forest before? I think the vegetation back home was very different.

[Or rather, he had just been there twice and didn't have that much time to explore, really.]

Mmm, actually, I did. I had a bodyguard then.

( he chuckles, thinking of the memory as he follows closely. his warmth radiates off of his wings, even in the mist. )

The trees weren't entirely the same, but it's similar. About as dark, really. It's manageable with someone you can trust. ( he lets out a slight 'hmph'. ) Though truth be told, I hadn't at first... but I learned to, with time. Have you ever been paired with someone you don't see eye-to-eye with, and yet find you have become good friends by the end?

[Slanting his head just a tad to take in the way Asper tells his tales better, curious, Zagreus nods and looks over at the forest and the way the darkness beckons. His mind goes straight to one person — a work-driven Fury, steadfast and with low, wide shoulders. Humble and with reasons to be proud instead. Tsc, she'd say, with actual fondness, even though she had stamped him as a hopeless case, having given up tutoring him on administrative tasks that were bound to her work.]

I do. [It's not without heart that he admits it: he misses the quirk of Meg's lip whenever she tries not to laugh at something he said.] She also has one wing. Albeit hers isn't feathered.

It's a blessing in disguise. Not the wing, though - was it all skin, then? How curious.

( he's innately interested when zagreus speaks up, taking a little hop to keep up. )

Some of my people have had their wings torn, clipped, or pulled clean. The upkeep of the skin underneath can be very difficult...

I guess you can call it that, yes. It's softer than my own skin, though. [Is that TMI? He's not quite sure.] She's very thorough in everything she does, so I guess that's not surprising.

[While they begin their walk through the woods, Zagreus becomes slightly distracted, if not because he's never been in such thick vegetation before. Everything feels very new, from the way air moves through trunks and branches to how sound propagates.] I heard that the best bonds are those forged through hardship. Was that the case for you?

It was. The midst of a war, no less.

( and something else, but something he doesn't want to admit to. he walks a bit faster when he sees a spot of vegetation nearby that'll block their path, sending out a little wave of magic to open the way. )

The Peacekeeper sent us on a mission together to ascertain if a neighboring country was gearing up for war. I don't think he knew how dangerous it would become. Was it the same for you?

A war? [Oh, look, magic powers. That's something that Zag wouldn't be able to do, even if those he grew up with have some sort of similar ability, and he thinks he'd never get tired of it.

He chuckles, slightly bashful. When putting things this way, everything about his endeavors feels small, especially in contrast with eternity.] Not quite. I was just bad at my work, and she was very strict. I suppose we were both under a lot of pressure. Nothing dangerous like that. [Although they kept killing each other at each escape attempt of his later.]

That's a relief.

( he admits it freely with a gentle expression, smiling. )

Hardships shouldn't be as difficult as war. I had a similar problem with the harem I headed, actually. I found myself needing to be strict as well. Though truly, saying you were "bad" at it... implies you are better now.

I, uh… [Strange. What to call Thanatos in the middle of all of this? He's not entirely sure, considering their last conversation was stilted, rushed, and really helped nothing about their status.] I know of an acquaintance. [Eugh. How cold.] He's told me about wars, about how many times it's not about the battles themselves but the famine and disease that follow. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

[A tilt of his head.] Did you manage, though? To be strict?

How did I manage...?

( aspen repeats it, mostly to himself, trying to figure out how to answer such a question. )

How do you manage to be kind? How does anyone manage anything?

( a beat - and he laughs. )

I apologize, that's a non-answer, isn't it? Being strict is... love, with structure. At the very least - that is what it is for me. The harem I was in charge of was... not an efficient place, and it was not a place that was safe for the courtesans inside. I took it upon myself to change that, and to do that, I had to be strict. You must understand that letting someone run recklessly will end in their getting hurt, so you must say 'don't go past that line'. And when they cross it, you must give the due punishment - or else, they'll do it again. It will be as if you never gave a limit in the first place.

It is putting others needs first, above your own feelings and desire to be liked. You must be ready to be hated and still continue to care.

['You must understand that letting someone run recklessly will end in their getting hurt, so you must say 'don't go past that line'.'

Is that… Hah. How silly. That his father kept trying to stop him from reaching the surface, either by siccing his forces on him, rearranging the entirety of Hell, or even confronting him directly, out of his love and kindness was just folly. He does keep getting himself hurt in the end, though, doesn't he? How counter-productive would that be?

Still, despite the thorn in his chest he somehow wasn't expecting to suddenly jab, he nods, absently rubbing his hand on his collarbone.] I understand that something like a harem can get tempers and hearts flared up easily. Was it rewarding, at least?

Do you mean inside or outside of it? I'm afraid most tempers and hearts that were flared up came from our patrons rather than ourselves.

( aspen hides a fond smile as he laces his hands behind him. )

I'm very proud of the harem. I don't know if you're aware of how our work is perceived, but courtesans are not often viewed as legitimate workers. In my time with them, I was able to cut out a space for us, alongside legitimacy and respect. I'm quite fond of the time I had there. I feel as if I did good work.

I meant both, but I guess that does make sense. [He knew. Priestesses of Aphrodite practiced their worship through acts of service and rituals to bless families, harvests. The breach of a vow of celibacy after its duty was celebrated privately within gilded halls. How fast the most basic instincts were induced on everyone, mortal and yet…

He knew the threads of everything related to sex weaved through sensibilities, even when they didn't — if someone was comfortable with being sexual, be it for pleasure, work, or divine calling, it would somehow still be someone else's problem.

It's no coincidence that Megaera, First of the Furies, Punisher of Jealousy, was constantly overworked. He'd say that it was part of the reason why they drew apart, but that was just himself coming up with excuses.

'I messed up. I messed up, and there are no gifts that can change what I did.'

Ah.

He shakes his head, wondering why he suddenly went on a tangent and focuses on the conversation he has.] That must've been quite the ordeal. Were you still working there before you arrived at this place?

Ah... no.

( he pulls into himself a bit, gaze cast upwards as he notes the calls of the harpies and suppresses a shudder. )

I underwent what we call a 'graduation' - officially leaving your status as a courtesan and the harem - around a year ago now. ( ... idly; ) Hah... it really has been a year since everything. Time passes so strangely.

I must be around 26 now.

[Oh, that's, that's somewhat interesting. He supposes there are moments where you just stop doing what you do, despite mortal's lives being so short. Zagreus looks up at the harpies, and they hiss, and he sticks his tongue out at one.

More hissing, but nothing happens. Cowards.]

What do you do after you graduate, then?

( what did he do.

it's an interesting question. it's a difficult question.

it's an easy answer.

should he burst this beautiful bubble to bits, though? aspen finds himself safe in what he used to be rather than what he is - what he is makes people act strangely, and he doesn't... like it. he isn't used to it. his people don't treat him strangely, but others do. he finds himself wanting to float in this dreamlike state, hovering through the air before it and he fall completely and shatter.

why tell the truth anyhow? asks his shadow.

and all the meanwhile, he fidgets and plasters a soft, shy smile on his face like he's uncertain he should speak up.

though, that in itself isn't a lie. )

I helped with agriculture. There was an island at the south of Estelya that had been razed to the ground decades ago, and I found the idea of bringing life back to what had been scorched and salted to be a challenge worth undertaking.

( none of it is a lie. just half-truths. )

[With an understanding nod, Zagreus stops in his tracks when they find a fork in their path. He usually went by instinct whenever two doors appeared before him, even if there was something behind them, calling him, hoping to show up once he cleared the following room. He looks around, a little lost, since nothing seems to call to him. Only the harpies above, creaking and croaking nastily.] Any ideas where to?

[He wants to understand that, that willingness to bring back life to what has been once sterile. He wonders if his mother Persephone would have that instinct as well, and finds it something beautiful to strive towards.

How very unlike your own endeavors. He looks up. The harpies, while peering down at him with jagged teeth, seem to be quiet for the moment. Where is this coming from?] You make it sound like it's nothing. It sounds like a very noble undertaking to me, though.

( aspen frowns and takes a few steps towards one path, scents the air, and goes to the other to do the same. neither smell strongly of any human scents, and that makes his lips purse in some wariness. with how many people were in here... why couldn't he find telltale signs of activity? he steps back a few more steps and curls his fingers into his palms.

he finds himself missing aza much more strongly. he always pointed them north. )

Well. ( his voice is softer now, a little sadder. ) Is an act noble if the person doing it does not have noble intentions, if they're selfish? I'm not entirely sure my desire to understand the world is noble.

I have no ideas on which to go. ( he turns fully to look at zagreus, and holds out a small coin. ) Will we leave it to chance?

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?

Frankin... cense?

( aspen repeats it carefully, blinking owlishly confused eyes at him. )

No. That's an herb, I take it? What does it do - perhaps I have something similar?

It's a herb, yes.

[He crouches and draws a circle in the ground. From the center of the ground, he draws lines that lead to its curve: a wheel.] The goddess of luck where I come from favors incense as an offering. If not frankincense, maybe something else to burn to call out to her? It could help us find a way.

Goddess of luck...

( he rummages through his pack as he thinks. )

Lavender and rose are the most common, along with holy basil. I do have some lavender here...

( but it's fresh. he frowns at the stems of lavender he brings out but after a moment, he closes his eyes and focuses. the scent of lemongrass lingers as he casts a spell, glowing a faint gold. in his palm, the lavender stays still, but water seeps out from underneath it through his fingers. )

Mm - still not completely dry... but it's the best my magic can do right now.

[For a second, he wonders if maybe he's doing something that's too much trouble for a simple decision like left or right. Lip quirking, he looks in wonder at the way water drips through Aspen's fingers, something he never saw anyone do. It's amazing, really, what people could do.]

That works, as long as there's smoke. [He reaches out to pick at the lavender, taking it to his nose to breathe in the scent of it more fully before he sets it.

On the ground near his foot(?!).

He does a quick motion with it, the skin flaring into orange-yellow with the speed and a cinder catching onto the herb. He crouches again, and perks up when the herb starts to smoke, waving his hand to make the fire flare up.] You can throw the coin now.

( he starts - even though you clearly need fire to burn herbs, there's something in aspen's gaze that seems horrified. just the spark of light from the cinders catching onto the lavender makes his wings droop considerably, eyes turning a bit wide and unfocused.

he snaps out of it, hearing zagreus's voice. )

Ah -

( he shakes his head a bit as he tosses the coin. when it lands on tails, he exhales, and points down the left side. ) This way, then.

( if he takes a deep breath in, all he can smell is smoke. he tries to relax, telling himself that he agreed to it, that there's no need to be scared, but he also doesn't turn his back to zagreus. ) You seem familiar with the, um... herb? Do you use it a lot?

MOD EVENT #001

hiking →

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