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

[telepathy]

[ mavis frowns at him, offering just a scattered glance at first. she steps around the line and heads into the maze, despite the faint hint of protest from both the attraction operators and the upcoming guests.

she's not used to explaining herself to others in the first place. it's an unwelcome annoyance when she already feels so shaky with overwhelm, stomach empty and throat still sour with bile. ]

She's not in danger. [ why would she intervene? ] The maze is just quieter. We can cut out the back of it. [ through the wall of corn on the far side, it might be better. less populated. ]

[nagano]

[ Kaito has little qualms with trespassing. If nobody's going to stop them, that's good enough for now.

Brows quirk high as they shuffle their way along the paths (and through the occasional wall that would normally constitute a dead end). ]

Wait, you can read that deep into her aura? I can't even read their gender. It's just emotions for me.

[ Emotions and memories, but nobody really needs to know the second part. ]

[telepathy]

Au ...ra?

[ the word's cadence is treated as unfamiliar, its vowel sounds not quite right. she stops for a step, stares at him.

someone ahead in the maze is startled, and their sudden panic lances through mavis like a knife. she clutches the side of her head, wincing away from kaito. ]

I can hear them. [ a bitter, snapped correction. she charges further into the maze. ] All of them.

[nagano]

Aura, [ he repeats, slowly. He's about to go into another one of his rambles when the same thought that pierces mavis rattles through him—redoubled through her own perception. Teeth grit and fists clench as he slumps forward, resisting the urge to slam his hands into his own skull.

A̵s̵ ̴i̴f̷ ̵t̸h̵a̶t̶ ̷w̷o̶u̵l̶d̷ ̴h̴e̶l̸p̷.̸ ]

And I experience their feelings like my own. This would be the worst competition ever. [ He shakes it off (the pain continues to thrum in his head) and strides after Mavis. ]

So you're a telepath. At least, that's what your powers would be recognized as in my world.

...I hope you can't hear the plants or the dirt, too.

[telepathy]

I don't care.

[ she doesn't even hear his last comment because she's already responding to the word telepath. there's so much to focus on, she can't be gracious and interested. hell, she can't even manage it when she's not overwhelmed like this.

she hangs a sharp left. the throb of others' presence is lessening as they drift away from the crowded square, but it's still more than she's used to. more than the wilds. more than home. ]

[nagano]

Uh huh.

[ Kaito rips two ears of corn from the maze as they bank left, giving them the once-over as he puts a little more distance between him and Mavis. They look decently edible.

He stuffs them into his jacket. Hazards a guess that he's acclimating a bit faster than she is. Perhaps she's not as accustomed to crowds? There was no such thing as a moment alone in Shibuya. He had to literally yeet himself into a separate dimension just to get some peace and quiet.

...If only he could offer her the Domain down here.

For now, he just follows—and it sounds like he's done with chitchatting for now. ]

[telepathy]

[ in the thick of the maze, it's quieter. voices turn to murmurs as she puts distance between herself and people. in turn, kaito's voice grows clearer. she slows her walk, urgency dropping off as the pain of overstimulation does, but that doesn't stop her from cutting directly through the thick corn stalks that make up a wall ahead of them.

when (if) kaito emerges behind her, she turns to him and asks, ]

What's Domain? [ as if to reintroduce the possibility of conversation, though it's no less bluntly delivered than anything else she has said. ]

[nagano]

[ When. Despite putting more space between him and Mavis, Kaito's still quick to pop out of the stalks. His brows quirk at her question, but he shakes his head. ]

Huh. I thought I'd blocked my aura to take the pressure off you. I guess it's not quite so compatible.

[ Kaito pulls out his phone. It's an older-looking flip phone as opposed to most of the others' smartphone models. After a bit of clicking, he shows off a photo of a tree in a field, backed by some large clouds. ]

The Domain was my special place, when I was alive. A pocket dimension, where no one else lived. Only grassy fields, cool breezes, and this tree. It's a lot bigger than in the picture.

I went there when I wanted peace and quiet. Where I lived, it was nearly impossible to clear my mind. Being away from people only helped a little, since I could feel the emotions of animals and plants as well. In the Domain, I could rest.

[telepathy]

Like the doors? [ she takes the phone, considers the image in it. it's the most green she's ever seen. in that way, the photograph looks surreal. an image of a place that doesn't exist. that disbelief shows in the narrowing of her eyes and the twist of her mouth as she stares at it. ] The ones that bear our names. They don't look like this inside.

[nagano]

No, the Domain is nothing like the doors. Though, the inside of mine does lead to this exact tree.

[ He keeps holding the phone up. ] From what I've gathered, the inside of the doors contain mockeries of locations that were significant to us in life. Their appearance should differ greatly from person to person.

[telepathy]

[ she nods — only barely. an infinitesimal movement that fears its own admission. layered in her chest are fear, grief, and guilt in equal measure. she draws her hands back from the phone, draws a deep breath, and straightens out her shoulders. ]

But it was yours, too. This place. And it was apart from everywhere else.

[nagano]

[ He's quiet (for once) for a spell. The words that follow are almost more hushed than the silence itself. ]

It was mine, yes. But here in death, I have no right to the Domain. All I have left is a reminder of what once was, behind my Door in the Shadowlands.

[ A reminder of what he called home, and a reminder of what keeps his spirit from moving on.

Kaito pockets his phone. Glances to the side. ]

I'll get it all back someday. That's my long-term goal.

[telepathy]

[ she tucks her hands into her pockets. ] How?

[ he can't seriously believe he can make himself alive again? but that is the only thing he'd described that could give him the right, by the sound of it.

mavis had long since written that hope off. restless, she is, but not desperately clinging to something that she can't salvage. not anymore. when her clan was slain, she had stopped holding out foolish hopes. ]

[nagano]

[ A simple shrug in return. ] I don't know yet. But I will.

[ There's some more doubt from her aura. He doesn't blame her. Kaito's not one to just blurt that desire out for good reason.

His tone carries no arrogance, but it's so matter-of-fact, as if he already sees the conclusion being written. ]

[telepathy]

Take me.

[ in her pockets, her hands make fists. ]

Take me with you, when you do.

[ she's not ready to be dead. she hasn't seen anything, hasn't known anyone, hasn't —

it isn't fair, is it? ]

[nagano]

...

[ Kaito feels the tension in her posture. Emotions that need not be spoken drill into his psyche.

It's not fair. We deserved better.

We had so much ahead of us.

Before he realizes it, his own hands have balled into tight, trembling fists. ]

Okay.

[ A nod. Brief, sharp, determined. ]

We'll get out together.

[telepathy]

[ she stops, regards the maze, then the sky. this place isn't ideal. she doesn't want to stay here, and for the first time, she's acknowledging she might not have to.

she can also finally breathe a little. the pressure on her head is alleviating. kaito is only one person, and his mind is not unlike aristaeus' — occluded, on some level. without the burden of the bridge she'd forged. it makes him easier to be around than others. ]

Here is good. [ she looks at him, expectant. if he agrees, she seems intent to just ... park here. right in the middle of the maze. ]

[nagano]

In the middle of the "labyrinth," huh?

[ Kaito looks around, then nods. Approval granted. A hand slips into his coat to retrieve one of the corn cobs he'd nicked. It's held in her general direction. ]

Wanna eat? And, uh... I never got your name. Made that committment without even asking, hah.

[telepathy]

You got it. On the ...

[ she pulls her phone out of her pocket, at a loss for the word. then she points to her chest with the phone. ]

Mavis. [ as she tucks it away, she takes the cob from him. this seems like the one thing she is easily familiar with, for she strips the husk in a way that's smooth and practiced. ]

[nagano]

The...?

[ For once, Kaito's curiosity is easily trumped—by realization. ]

Oh shit! You're Mavis! I remember our chat. [ Something distinctly bright seems to illuminate Kaito's aura, to the point that it shines through the obfuscating veil he took the effort of raising earlier. A tinge of... relief? Happiness? Both?

Irrelevant in the end, as he just flat out grins while shucking his own corn with a familiarity unhindered by his leather gloves. ]

I was wondering if I'd ever hear from you again, but look at this. We get to meet in person!

[ A beat. His smile turns somewhat apologetic. ]

How's your head feeling?

[telepathy]

Like shit.

[ better, though, admittedly. feedback loop and all, he is still far less overwhelming to her than the crowd had been, and they are distant enough now that she can breathe. focus.

she is reminded of darcy, and that memory stings. the sparse companionship, the little comforts of having someone around, getting used to the constant frantic whinge of their anxieties. kaito's mental presence is softer around the edges than that, even. ]

It's not as bad here. [ she settles down into a cross-legged sitting position. takes a bite from the corn. it sticks between her teeth in a familiar way that gives her something to occupy herself, tongue probing at the gaps between her teeth to loosen it. ] When it's just one person, it's quieter. [ another bite. ] I didn't know you were like me.

sweats in HOW DID I FORGET ABOUT THIS TAG

[nagano]

It's an unfortunate coincidence. I wouldn't want anyone to suffer like I do.

[ A soft laugh. He carves the rest of the kernels out before tossing the ear away and tumbling into a similar seated position across from her. ]

How long have you been dealing with it? I've had this for... most of my life? Since I was a child.

[ Since I lost my mother, he doesn't add. ]

IT'S OKAY FR

[telepathy]

As long as I can remember.

[ she chews the thought over. plucks at the fibers of the corn husk, a familiar and soothing fidget. few cultivated corn in the wilds, but that did not stop it growing wild in some of the wetter parts of the desert. ]

It wasn't as bad, before. [ she shuts her eyes, trying to remember life before exile. ] There weren't many of us in my clan. Maybe a hundred ... Not like here.

[ and then, of course, there were the nearly twenty years of silence in between. lack of exposure, and she was too sensitive to it now. would she have ever been able to return to the clan like this, she wonders. ]