logs | 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

（ he lands in a solid pile, ass over teakettle as he groans and puts a hand to his head. it's a harder landing than he's used to, the pale flicker of gathered reishi barely enough to slow him down from a rather meteoric descent.

he's landed in a garbage pile, which is probably better than the hard cobblestone — and he's just staggering back to his feet (with husks of weird fruit on one shoulder that he is trying to brush off but that seems to be stuck by weird prickly bits on the external skin) when fukawa barrels towards him like — well. ）

What are you doing?

（ it comes out as a bit of a squawk. look, he hasn't clued into the fact the horseman is coming back around, okay? ）

[Cool, now they both smell like trash. :') ]

What do you think?!

[Would you look at that, not even a stutter. She hadn't even slowed when she realized he was still alive. He's lucky, but not for much longer if they don't move. The second she reaches his side she's snatched his sleeve, and he'd better get to moving. She's surprisingly quick when her ass is on the line.

Though if this keeps up much longer...would this guy be able to keep his mouth shut about Syo?

Oh shit, there's the hooves on the pavement again. The Horseman is gaining on them, and they've got ground to cover. Stat.]

C-Come on! I'm not dying again! [She's practically wheezing, but she's committed. This is gonna cramp so bad later.] I refuse!!

（ trash party ayyyy.

she grabs his sleeve and he sort of half-stumbles as she tugs him along. something's broken — not even remotely an unfamiliar sensation to him — so it's mostly ignored while he adopts a brisk limp after her.

the hooves clattering on the cobblestones mostly just make him let out an exasperated noise as he kicks an errant bucket out of his way (and promptly regrets it, injured ankle whomst?) ）

Then you should leave. I can hold him off no problem.

（ mostly no problem. some problem.

grimmjow's gonna kill him if he dies here, which is basically impetus enough. ）

What?! [Fucking excuse you?] How? Are you g-gonna waggle that busted leg at him?

[Forget it. She may be a selfish, worthless bitch, but she hasn't spent the last year in Towa City saving the hides of ungrateful assholes only to turn callous now. No matter how much of an ingrate this guy was.

To the side. A slightly cracked back door, probably to some kind of shop. Doesn't matter.

Fukawa shoves him into it with her whole body. They'll probably land in a heap of limbs, but they just have to get the door. Barricade the door. Then the Horseman will trot after someone else.

If it's anything like the one in Sleepy Hollow, it won't be pursuing on foot.]

（ he's used to getting manhandled. it's fine.

what he's less used to is tumbling ass over tea-kettle with a girl and ending up with his hands in all sorts of wILDLY AWKWARD PLACES that he is quick to extricate himself from thank you very much!! (of course, it's ichigo — captain of the USS 'repression as an art form' so his idea of scandalous is probably not even remotely on par with literally anyone else's.)

he springs back with all the verve of one lately electrified and ends up on his ass a short distance away. ）

He's just going to keep going after people, I have to —

（ the rest of that statement goes unsaid as he stabs his swordpoint into the ground, and hauls himself back to his feet. the little clip-clop of hooves continues down the cobbled lane, and he leans into the window frame peering from behind dusty, moth-eaten drapes to track his progress. ）

You'll probably be fine here, so just — don't leave, okay?

[Going off how quickly he disentangles from her it sounds like he needs to get more womanhandled. Be careful Ichigo, you might accidentally hold a hand.

On the other end of the equation Fukawa is just as quick to scramble away. That's equal parts fear of death, paranoia about men, and knowing how disgusting everyone finds her. Better to nip his whining in the bud than prolong contact with a disgusting beast like her.

But mostly, it's their imminent demise propelling her off and away. Also spurring her indignant spluttering.]

Wh-what the hell? Are you still going on about that? You were barely keeping up with me. [And that's a sad metric to go by. She's very much an indoor girl.] Stay inside, for crying out loud! There's lots of w-warriors around here, let them handle it!

[She edges up next to him, careful to stay out of sight at the window. Her heart beats on rhythms too quick to track.]

I'm t-telling you, going out there is a huge mistake. You won't come back.

（ not the hand-holding, he begs of you. ）

Yeah, maybe.

（ he accepted death once in an alley. he's afraid, but that's never been enough to keep him from doing what's necessary. he sighs, drags a hand through his hair and then slings his sword over one shoulder. it's an inelegant thing, more like a massive, unfinished knife than a blade of any true provenance. he hasn't been able to use his bankai here since he arrived. ）

But if it means someone else does, that's good enough for me.

（ someone has an incredibly low value on his life, oop. and on that stupidly self-sacrificial shōnen hero note, he shoulders through the door and heads off with shunpo after the horseman.

#justMCproblems. ）

[all right fine i'll take my naughty hands elsewhere]

Wha— Seriously?! [Fukawa is going to be livid. Her ears are burning red.] You c-can't put out a fire on the house next door if yours is burning down too! Get back here!

[She trots after him. She hates him now more than ever. Him with that stupid beat up sword, that line he borrowed from an action movie. Just who the hell does he think he is?

Fukawa patters out the door dead set on holding him back. Maybe she'll insist that she go in his stead. One second she's looking at his broad back, and the next?

He's vanished.

She stares into the hollowed air he left behind. How did...what? Excuse?]

UGH! [She slaps at her own head, scratching at the roots.] All th-this magic bullshit...I swear I'm going to explode one day.

[No matter. The danger may have passed for her, but he's right. There's other people out there.

She gathers the ends of her hair and tickles her nose. One sneeze, and suddenly she's a lean and lethal creature, zipping through the streets with a high-pitched cackle. Maybe they'll meet again later. Maybe they'll catch the madman at the same time.

Anything is possible.]

（ ooc: sure, we can /thread! and then pick up something fun later with these two knuckleheads c: ）

MOD EVENT #001

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bats this back at you, should we end here?

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