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]

[ Set's chest flexes, twitching with a supressed burst of laughter -- Bruno's struggling must delight him in some way, while he withdraws his fingers from the man's mouth in order to lift him up. He weighs so little! Or, perhaps nobody truly weighs much to him, regardless of their size. Setting Bruno upon the ground, he tugs his ruana down. Gives it a little pat. It's all very personable, despite that he'd come down like a holy terror upon the other. ]

Oh?

[ There is a hand in his face, shoved right up to the tip of his nose as Set leans back - away from the jut of Bruno's palm, avoidant without being alarmed. Slowly, his own hands lift again, this time to lightly press fingertips apart -- peering through them as though he were peering through reeds along the Nile. His eyes, bright and red, are narrowed. But, at the least, his mouth is curled in relative amusement. ]

If you run, I'll chase you down again, and this time I won't be as nice about capturing you. You're my prey now, given to me in sacrifice. We're going to the finish line together!

[fallingsand]

Sacrifice? [ Alarm flashes across Bruno's face briefly and he pulls his hand back, away from Set, fingers curling against his palm as he dropped to rest against his own chest. Oh boy. All the hunters in this maze had some really weird issues going on, huh? ] What— that's not... you... you know this is just a game, right?

[ He did, didn't he? He had to, only he found himself second-guessing himself even with that thought. Even if he didn't, would it matter? Of course not, that nasty voice in the back of his mind, chillingly similar to his own and yet different all the same, is the only thing that answered him. Why bother? He'd never get away. He'd only make things worse if he ran again. He should have just stayed down where he'd fallen.

And it almost works. A sad, tired air settles around Bruno and the look he gives Set is certainly one of someone who's given up. It's not as though he has any pride, anyway, and yet, there's a lie in that look. He knows he isn't going to win. Just looking at Set tells him that, and yet... ]

Lo siento.

[ Is what he says, words coming out in a different language. He's sorry. Sorry about wh— ah. Sorry about the way he goes from looking absolutely downtrodden to making a dash for it. No, he's not about to outpace a god in the long run, but he is quick now that he's gotten air back into his lungs, and he darts forward rather than trying to spin about and run the other way. It's faster to slip by Set in a flurry of motion and carry on further into the maze. ]

[redsoil]

[ Why are humans so FREAKING WEIRD? ]

Haa?

[ The sound he makes is a throaty, wordless question; a sharp noise that betrays how utterly confuse he is by the way Bruno's entire everything suddenly begins to collapse in on itself. It is the vague what the fuck of someone who cannot discern what it was that happened between one moment and the next, and who is earnestly surprised when his "prey" takes off at a full sprint into the maze. He'd just said not to run, Bruno!

He shouts something after the fleeing man, in an ancient tongue, that probably translates to the tune of: what the FUCK, before he - too - begins to move in the same direction. Bruno has several yards on him by the time Set's confusion gives way to a flicker of anger; he'd said not to run, he'd said they needed to go to the finish line! What about that was difficult to understand?! ]

You stupid man, get back here! You're making this worse for yourself!

[ SET THAT DOESN'T HELP!!!! ]

[fallingsand]

[ Yeah, that really does not help. There is nothing in that string of sentences that makes Bruno want to stop and resubmit himself to Set's custody, so, he keeps running. In that process, he's quick to pull the hood of his ruana up and over his head. It's less ideal for keeping an eye on his direct left and right but what it does have is power. Well, kind of. In that sense that a kid in the costume of a hero might feel braver or more capable, it's the same when Bruno decides to channel the wholly imaginary Hernando, who fears nothing.

It's silly, he knows, but it works because Hernando, unlike Bruno, outright ignores both his shadow and Set's calls for him to stop being ridiculous right this instant. ]

Never! I'm not giving up!

[ So, yeah, looks like Set's found the king of weird humans right here in this maze. He takes a sharp turn around a corner of the maze and leaps up onto the first of a series of haybale obstacles, jumping onward to the next with the practiced ease of someone who's done something like this before and making good time through it to boot. ]

[redsoil]

[ HERNANDO NO

Behind him, Set is a sleek line of brilliant red, honed in upon the scampering man who proves nimble, fleet of foot -- it'd be delightful, if he wasn't already on a time crunch and annoyed by the escape of his first target. This one has to be it, it has to be Bruno that he captures and brings to the end of the course, or he will lose and it will make the fact that he was playing a silly mortal game humiliating, instead of laughably easy. His pride is truly on the line, and he has so little of it to spare.

A burst of ancient tongue escapes him again, as Set elects not to ascend the haybale obstacles and instead lowers his head, sets his forearms up as a brace -- and just slams through them, scattering the bales across the course with a horrible wham of force. One of them even manages to go flying past Bruno again, narrowly missing him as it spirals and cartwheels through the corn, shedding strands of hay as it goes. ]

If you cost me this victory, you stubborn -- wretched thing --!!

[fallingsand]

[ HERNANDO YES

But, of course, that's still only him playing at being some bold person, willing to make someone so clearly stronger than he is going through that additional effort to hunt him down. Daring to shoot a look back over his shoulder happens just in time to see the bale of hay go whizzing by. Far too close, close enough that it earns a startled yelp and he misses the next pale, faceplanting into it instead. ]

...gh!

[ It holds him for a second or two before he scrambles over and past it in a last-ditch effort to remain ahead of Set. He won't try to stay on the path after that. He's going for the tall fields of corn rising up all around them. ]

[redsoil]

[ It has to be enough. The fumbling of this human, it must be enough to bridge the gap between them; Set will push himself until he collapses, rather than concede. He has, and he will always. Inelegantly, he reaches for another crumpled hay bale, this time hefting it over his head as he sprints in Bruno's wake. Just before he spots the man deviate from the bath, he flings it - a pale missile aimed to cut off any attempt for Bruno to dart in one direction.

It's a harrying tactic, utilized by hunters who normally come with hounds ( -- with the sha beasts, that Set would loose upon hares and hippos alike ), to cut off a route and force their prey into a path where they could be more easily controlled and corralled. ]

Why did you -- run!

[ This time, when he snarls, it's accompanied with the swipe of claws; Set reaching for any scrap of clothing he might be able to snag at in order to arrest Bruno's movement. ]

We were going to win!!

[fallingsand]

[ It's a wise gamble to take. Bruno is quick but not as quick as a hay bale launched at high speeds through the air. It crashes down in an explosion of dry yellow grass and cuts him off before he reaches the relative safety of the corn stalks. He lets out an incoherent sound of surprise and tries to back peddle, to change course and reroute to carry on avoiding Set, but it'll be for naught.

Just as he makes the turn to keep running, claws snag the very edge of that voluminous green ruana he wears and pulls him up short. He's yanked back and it's enough to force him to stumble, lose his footing, and end up on the ground all over again.

That, of course, doesn't mean he won't put up a struggle. ]

Win?! Win what?! There isn't even a prize!

[redsoil]

Who needs a prize? Winning is fine as a concept!

[ Finally, finally! He's able to lunge forward and bridge the gap between himself and Bruno's fleeing, scrambling form. Colliding with the other man once more, he aims to bring his already-flailing form down to the dirt. While Bruno does a great job of that on his own, Set is the one who rolls with the ungainly descent, dragging Bruno ass-over-teakettle into a pin. A firm hold where he drags a wrist up high between the man's shoulderblades and sits on him.

Again. ]

You weird human, you've been running like I'm going to hurt you! Settle down!

[fallingsand]

[ And that's the end of that. Pinned to the ground by Set, arm pulled back against his shoulders, he still gives a few final wriggles of struggle before settling down with a sigh. Well, he isn't sure what else he expected. ]

Have you considered that maybe... maybe you sound like you're gonna hurt people? A little? [ Considering the threat to make it worse if he ran! Wow! ] Not to mention you already did? Kind of?

[ And that this, too, hurts a little?! ]