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

[janescayre]

[There's an indignant splutter (can she truly be that stupid?) but the damage is done. Rudibecky de Bolognese has claimed her spot, and Fukawa can either leave or be too stubborn to budge.

She chooses the latter, because she got here first.]

H-how can anyone enjoy this? It's too loud, and there's all these w-weird customs...like that creepy maze. [She cinches her arms in to her sides, shoulders hunching. It's not quite a lean, but it's immediately obvious she's trying to make more space between them. Let's hope this girl isn't the touchy-feely sort. You can't take your eye off an airhead for a minute.] And I don't care what you say, this food is definitely suspicious. All it would t-take is one disgruntled cook to dump something disgusting in. Like spit. Or s-sewage water.

[Fukawa snorts.]

But I suppose none of this bothers you. Does it?

[She's about to rag on her dinner choices, but all the girl's brought with her is a glass of alcohol. Which — fine, Fukawa snatched one too. She's still bitter about how many of life's milestones she's missed (that she'll keep missing now) to hold back for another five or six months. She's earned her right to try some spirits out. A hundred times over.

Anyway, at least she got some solid food to temper it with. What's this girl up to?]

What? Are you s-some kind of lush? [She squints. Edging away further.] If you try to th-throw that back up on me, you'll — you'll definitely regret it!

[appeale]

[ god. Rudbeckia is paranoid herself, but this girl really makes her look normal by comparison. she almost wants to laugh. ]

I'm not a lush! [ it's said in pleading, please believe me, no indignation or offence to be found. ] I've eaten a little here and there...

[ for all that she seems to be incapable of reading the room, Ruby makes no move closer to Fukawa, nor does she breach her personal space at all. she doesn't deliberately make more room either, as if nothing happened. maybe she's just too dumb to have noticed. ]

I guess without realising, I've been behaving like I'm at a ball? You know... You don't sit down for a meal, you only pick up little things to eat, and keep a glass in your hand. But there wasn't any wine, so...

[ she takes a tiny sip of whiskey. blech. ]

[janescayre]

Hmmph.

[It's not like she gives a shit. Rudbeckia very well could have stuffed her face elsewhere before teetering her way. And it makes sense, that she might treat the snacks like floating trays of hors d'oeuvres. That's the limit of her public experience as a primped and pampered noble.

Fukawa scowls as she knocks back one whole milliliter of whisky. Then scoffs, reaching for her own.]

Fine. I guess if I have to s-sit with you, I'll need strength to get me through it.

[It's only as she takes a bitter sip that she thinks about it: why would this girl have to quantify "behaving" like she was at a ball? That's oddly...oddly something.

God, this was awful. She pulls such a face, lifting the glass to peer at the amber swill inside.]

Do adults hate themselves? [She pauses.] N-nevermind. Of course they do.

[Down the glass goes, clinking against the table as she resumes inspecting her uninvited guest.]

So? What do you want? Let's g-get it over with.

[This stuff hits quick, huh? Already it feels like a cold egg's been cracked over her head, sticky and dripping down through her brain. Is that why she sees a silhouette at the corner of her eye, approaching slow, gelling together behind the petite miss at her side?]

[appeale]

[ What I want is to know whether you're going to be a problem for me! —honestly, though, what kind of answer is Fukawa expecting to that? Rudbeckia has established herself well as an extrovert and an idiot, so why is she being suspected by this girl? Ruby knows she isn't in any position to talk, but it's one thing to be wary of humanity's selfishness and capacity for cruelty, and another to think that everyone is out to get you personally. it's... almost arrogant? like, what are we, just characters that exist to torment you?

never mind. somebody else's complexes aren't her problem. she sips more whiskey, even if it's like swallowing rubbing alcohol, and spins some bullshit response in her head: she wanted to keep Fukawa company, maybe? that's sure to get her accused of pity. ah, that she wanted to hang out with a girl? that's pretty insipid, she doesn't mind that at all.

but as she's about to start fawning, she notices Fukawa's gaze slide off her and affix itself just somewhere past her ear. Rudbeckia turns to look, finds nothing there, and looks back to Fukawa. ]

...? Signorina? Did you see something interesting?

Danganronpa Spoilers from here on ig, thank you peyote trip whisky

[janescayre]

[Fukawa's distracted by the sudden turn. Her gaze resettles on Rudbeckia, but her head is starting a slow spin. The only outward sign that something is wrong is the sudden swell of her pupils. They blow so wide the lavender-grey of her iris is consumed whole.]

Eh? N-no.

[She doesn't sound so sure.

Especially since that shaky shadow has slipped behind the noblewoman, as if taking the next seat over. Fukawa wets her lips. Begins to lean, just to be sure it was nothing.

That's when a slender hand extends out and plucks a candy from a nearby dish. The sharp acrylics gleam a bloody red.

Fukawa is out of her seat in a flash, all colour drained from her face. There are two blondes before her now: an inquisitive stranger in old fashioned garb, and a perky fashionista in pigtails, tossing back a quick snack.

"Hey hey hey!" the girl chirps, flashing a grin and a peace sign. Her bunched cheeks are dotted with freckles. "I can't believe you Fukawa-chan. How can you be so mean to someone you just met?"]

You! [She's shaking. Her hands are in white-knuckled fists.] What are you doing — why are you still in that shitty costume?! I kn-know who you are! Ikusaba!

[She's been wondering why she hasn't found her fellow dearly departed classmates. Shouldn't have wished so hard for it: now fate's saddling her with the second-worst bitch of the bunch.

Without a second thought, she reaches for Rudbeckia's sleeve, pulling at it two-handed, urging her up to safety. All the while tearing into the chipper mirage.]

Go away! We d-don't want anything to do with you!

[appeale]

[ the outburst is a shock, of course, as is the sudden flurry of motion, but it's specifically Fukawa pulling Rudbeckia towards her that stuns. it isn't a leap to assume that Fukawa is hallucinating something, that in her eyes there's someone she doesn't want near her standing before them—but she doesn't simply run. Ruby stumbles from her own seat to follow Fukawa, made pliant by confusion. is she going to be used as a human shield, perhaps? ]

Hey, Signorina Fukawa, it's alright... [ she takes one of the hands pulling her to safety and tries to disentangle it from her sleeve, holding it gently between her own two hands. this is less an attempt at comfort than it is an attempt at distraction. ] I don't know what you're seeing, but there isn't anybody there.

[ although that probably won't help any, if she's hallucinating this vividly. there's a warning sense of dread that raises the hair on the back of Rudbeckia's neck, something that feels not quite right, but she ignores it for the moment. deal with one problem at a time. ]

Would you like to go somewhere else? Let's leave, shall we?

[janescayre]

[One hand is cupped by two delicate palms. Fukawa turns to snap at the other girl — she needs to take this seriously, there's a murderous hag right behind her — and finds herself stopping short.]

What? [Fukawa's head bobs back, affronted.] Wh-what the hell do you mean, there's no one there? Just look—

[Look, indeed.

Ikusaba is still there. This time she's slumped over the table, face slack, eyes wide. Several spears jut out of her torso like spines on a porcupine.

Fukawa wheezes. She's cringed back, hand to mouth, biting her knuckle hard enough to bruise. Taking refuge in Rudbeckia's shadow, using her body to block the view. Don't faint, she repeats to herself. She's seen bodies galore in Towa City. She managed then. She can do this.

In spite of herself, she begins to nod.]

There...th-there isn't anyone. Is there?

[This place plays the strangest tricks on people. She'd seen the little feats of magic being played all round, from the first day she arrived. And even if this is the land of the dead, a place Ikusaba should be found? Nobody here flashes from hale and hearty to a bloody corpse in the blink of an eye.

Fukawa's lip trembles. She can't meet the other girl's gaze.]

Y-yeah...I w-want to go.

[Away. Far away. The crowd has turned stifling all of a sudden.]

[appeale]

[ as she expected, it doesn't seem like Fukawa actually believes her, not out of any sort of trust in Rudbeckia's character. but she wants to believe it, and there's enough uncertainty there for rational thought to get its foot in the door. if she can just get Fukawa away from the festival, if she finds out who to call so that she can get this situation off her hands... that's all she needs to focus on right now. it isn't any good for either of them to be here with Fukawa in this state. ]

Alright. We'll find someplace quiet.

[ she puts an arm around Fukawa to herd her, palm laid against the girl's upper back; there's no attempt to soothe, just gentle pressure urging her forward. Ruby continues to play the high society lady as they make their way from the feast, politely asking others to step aside, apologising for the trouble with a good-natured laugh, please excuse me—

"Look at that. What has the wicked Lady Rudbeckia done this time?"

Ruby freezes. immediately, her hand yanks away from Fukawa, clutched to her chest like a guilty child who has been caught. ]

I didn't— [ ahhh, that's what the feeling was. she knew that it was familiar for some reason. it's the sensation of eyes on her; of hostility in the air, staring daggers at her back. there are still people whispering to each other — "It's no surprise. Probably just jealous of the girl. She poisoned Lady Freya, after all." — and Ruby's voice goes high, desperate, a sudden cry that dies out: ] That wasn't—!

[ what's the point of explaining? even if this is real, nobody will believe her. nobody wants to hear it. without another word, she grabs Fukawa's hand and starts running. ]