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

[zauneyete]

Hm. [ It's a thoughtful sound, drawn out. Silco didn't think it was a very big deal, but then again, he'd been drowned with meaty fingers on his neck once, by someone considered a paragon of the community. He was the reflection of Zaun's dark side, in the same way that Vander had been the reflection of their virtues, and he'd still lashed out, and tried to kill Silco.

Even the best of them had been worse than most. Silco knew that, so he only smiled at her, after a moment. ]

So she tried to get your attention, and stick it to you, and when you...showed her what's what, they decided to ban you for returning the favor?

[ Silco's tone said, very clearly, that it was ludicrous. ] Clearly they didn't deserve your time. Or business.

[oomfies]

My thoughts exactly!

[ Lottie, emboldened by her hype man, mimics his tone completely. It's true, it is ridiculous and they should all feel bad for not taking her money! And also keeping that ban a whole year later!! Obviously!! She survived!

Granted she also allegedly got pushed off a building by Lottie's not-beau and went into a coma as a result, but she also survived that!! Fate loves Charlene.. ]

It was extremely unfair and very irritating since I didn't do anything unwarranted? It's not like I banned her from my shop.. Even after everything, she's still free to look at what I post! [ she says this like it's a Big Accomplishment ]

Ugh. I guess it's not like it even matters.. We're dead now. And she's still alive, probably.

[zauneyete]

You could have just killed her.

[ Silco said it, mildly. If anyone were to ask him about whether the punishment was warranted or not, he would say no, but threats and pushing were... normal? Hell, even murders were considered a part of life. Silco didn't think it was that big of a deal to push her, but if she was such a thorn in Lottie's side, why didn't she just kill her?

He took a puff of his cigar, but didn't say anything else, since... that would be what he did in this circumstance. Hell, he had. ]

[oomfies]

[ That is exactly what Lottie was considering at the brink of this nonsense (in fact, it was right after Charlene flashed her Lottie™ brand panties at her).. Maybe it's the fact she almost already died that makes the satisfaction of the idea dwindle, even as it enters her brain. She takes another sip of her tea, not because someone suggesting murder is bad, but because she thinking.

And then thinking some more.

Her drink is placed on the empty space beside her, the amount of certainty in her words almost impressive if it weren't for the contents: ]

Yeah, but she'd probably haunt me...

[zauneyete]

Rather rude of her, isn't it?

[ His tone is snide, and just a touch mocking.

Not of Lottie, but of this situation, and this supposed person. Silco didn't care about whoever this person was, but if he had to think about a way to deal with it? He would have just had them eliminated. If not personally, then he would have sent Jinx, or Sevika their way, to deal with the problem. He had no qualms with dealing with problem people, certainly. ]

Then you have to get a spiritualist involved, and... [ His face twisted, in disgust. ] Well, maybe when we've all left this realm, and ascended, you can rub it in her face, when she ends up here.

[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?

[zauneyete]

No? The type to end up elsewhere?

[ Hell, maybe? Some version of it? He'd heard of some religions that believed in a realm of torture in the afterlife. It's common, in Zaun, given that their very lives are fraught. He didn't prescribe to any of it, though, so even waking up here was a shock. He still doesn't know what to make of it, or what it means. He doesn't know what a realm of the dead should look like, because he'd never considered a realm of the dead in the slightest. ]

Well, no matter, hm? Those from home are likely to stay there, where they belong. And we have to... what is it they like to say? Move on.

[ Silco did not exactly sound like the type to move on. ]

[oomfies]

[ Someplace lame, obviously! In Lottie's weird little goblin brain, them being here means something, because in the most irritating of ways? They're special. After all, they finally know what happens after death!

(If she did die, which she might've, probably?? Silco on the other hand... She should ask him how he died, later —) ]

Ughhh. Yeah..

[ Moving on.. The irony of it! Isn't that what the living are supposed to do?! Lottie, at least, manages to sound just as turned off by the concept when she starts speaking. ]

It's so weird starting over! It feels like I just moved out of my parents place again. Don't know anybody, can barely remember where I live..

[zauneyete]

[ That wasn't an experience Silco really understood. He had been on his own since he could remember, since he'd been a boy slipping through the fissures and mining as best they could for someone else's profit. ]

I'm just learning the sensation. I lived in the same city all my life.

[ He admitted. It's an innocent statement. It makes Silco seem less worldly than he acts, but he'd always been proud of living in Zaun, of never leaving, of knowing each street like the back of his hand, the tapestry of winding alleys something that he could navigate whether he was trying to lose enforcers or when he'd stumbled through the streets, dripping wet and nursing an infected wound to his eye. He knew what was safe, and where. Every last crevice of it.

Here, it was different. Alien. He had learned enough of Mirth, but it's a long process to learn the rest of it. Time, but then again... wasn't time all he had? ]

I think we're all in this strange boat together, hm?

[oomfies]

[ It does make him seem less worldly, but Lottie thinks it's a good thing. If she squints her eyes right now, she can definitely see how Silco is that kind of guy, a one city type of man who enjoys the familiarity of where he grew up. She'd understand it, if she weren't so personally hellbent on achieving more at all times (also, if he didn't find her family such a whirlwind to live with). ]

Understatement of the century..

[ But, yes, she agrees, enough to even laugh at how simple he makes it sound. Like they both got stuck with a shitty meal at the same work gathering and it's the only thing to really break the tension of the night. It's a wistful sort of voice that she adds to it, looking back at the corny ass maze and the bright lights of the theme park. The edges of her lips curl up, ]

At least the boat has a carousel?

[zauneyete]

[ He eyed it, with a tip of his head. ]

Yes, I suppose there is one of those.

[ He lifted a shoulder. ] Personally, I think it's a bit of an eyesore, but nobody asks me what it would look like to be decorated better down here, now do they?

[ To Silco, there would be more neon, more flash, more... life.

But this was the world of the dead, wasn't it? ]