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sticksandbonesmodsSOMETHING WICKED
FROSTED MORNINGS
What can presumably be called Halloween comes and goes, and perhaps for a time things are… normal. Or close enough to it, in a haunted, possessed forest where time blends together. And then it’s cold. Frost forms on the windowpanes in the morning and dusts the grass and leaves, and soon enough it begins to snow on and off, gentle as can be. The Trader finally dismisses her turtle summon, and now the tent she keeps feels smaller and perhaps emptier, despite Goldie having been outside the entire time. As time progresses and lapses, there is a persistent aroma of chocolate in the air, intertwined with the crisp chill of late autumn and early winter. Both the Trader and the Shopkeeper keep a pot going at all times, with the thickest, creamiest hot cocoa you could imagine, always served in an almost-too large mug.
One morning, as you go about your day – maybe you’re getting some winter clothing from the general store, or out fishing — the Trader stops you.
“Come here for a moment, please? I’ve developed something for the lot of you. Hopefully it will help.”
She holds out a leather-bound book with blank pages. When you write in it, the writing also appears in the others.
“It’s for communication. Just remember, nothing is private in these, so do be careful. And polite.”
Otherwise, it’s a lovely day. You get the feeling every time you go near the fog that something actively wants you dead, but that’s… probably nothing. It’s not like you have the Golden Glasses anyway — or maybe you do. …Well, you only need one attempt to step through the cracks to know that entering the forest officially means you will be attacked immediately. Try not to die.
One morning, as you go about your day – maybe you’re getting some winter clothing from the general store, or out fishing — the Trader stops you.
“Come here for a moment, please? I’ve developed something for the lot of you. Hopefully it will help.”
She holds out a leather-bound book with blank pages. When you write in it, the writing also appears in the others.
“It’s for communication. Just remember, nothing is private in these, so do be careful. And polite.”
Otherwise, it’s a lovely day. You get the feeling every time you go near the fog that something actively wants you dead, but that’s… probably nothing. It’s not like you have the Golden Glasses anyway — or maybe you do. …Well, you only need one attempt to step through the cracks to know that entering the forest officially means you will be attacked immediately. Try not to die.
MISCHIEF MISBLAMED
It starts out small. Something missing, found in another person’s room. Pinches whenever someone passes by. Something tugging at your hair while another person is behind you. It’s a little suspicious, isn’t it? But the only possible suspect always says it wasn’t them.
More things go missing. Pinches become scratches and bruising grips, gone just as quickly as they came. Hair-pulling becomes painful yanking, and more than once you may feel a harsh shove — especially by stairs or in the inn’s kitchen. Sleep is hard to come by as things get pushed off your shelf all night, or your blanket keeps falling on the floor.
You’re tempted to shout at the person — or people — next to you. Accuse them of pushing your tea onto the floor like a cat, or call them out for hiding your necklace, or slap their hand away from where there’s a scratching at your neck. Perhaps it clicks then that they might be too far away, or that they’re not the culprit. Or perhaps it doesn’t, and you’re suddenly really, really tempted to punch them square in the jaw.
As time passes, the true culprits become a little more visible, until finally you can see little shadow people, flat against the walls and floors until they reach out, laughing at you. And laughing, and laughing. Even as knives fly through the air, even as you fall to the ground, even as bone breaks.
You’re not going to know much peace this month.
More things go missing. Pinches become scratches and bruising grips, gone just as quickly as they came. Hair-pulling becomes painful yanking, and more than once you may feel a harsh shove — especially by stairs or in the inn’s kitchen. Sleep is hard to come by as things get pushed off your shelf all night, or your blanket keeps falling on the floor.
You’re tempted to shout at the person — or people — next to you. Accuse them of pushing your tea onto the floor like a cat, or call them out for hiding your necklace, or slap their hand away from where there’s a scratching at your neck. Perhaps it clicks then that they might be too far away, or that they’re not the culprit. Or perhaps it doesn’t, and you’re suddenly really, really tempted to punch them square in the jaw.
As time passes, the true culprits become a little more visible, until finally you can see little shadow people, flat against the walls and floors until they reach out, laughing at you. And laughing, and laughing. Even as knives fly through the air, even as you fall to the ground, even as bone breaks.
You’re not going to know much peace this month.
AN ONSET OF DREAD
Beyond the thick fog that surrounds the Grove, something is watching you. Even going inside doesn’t spare you the feeling, even if the hot chocolates provide comfort. There’s something standing in the distance, visible only out of the corner of your eye but always gone when you turn to look. Something looming behind your reflection, too distant to make out but always there until you turn. And then, it laughs.
Eventually, it shows itself. A grotesque monster built around your worst fears, all merged together. Always watching, sometimes smiling in anticipation. You see it standing outside the window from afar, or following you across the grove but vanishing before you can charge to it yourself. You hear it when you’re trying to go about your day, dealing with awful pranks and the heavy weariness that comes with the lack of sleep. Sometimes it manifests right before you, swinging at you before it vanishes again, leaving you with only your racing heartbeat and whatever injury it may have left.
As time passes, it only gets worse. For however confined the Grove is, it truly feels cramped with these monsters stalking you, chasing you, hunting you. When they’re killed, they rise again from their own shed corpse like a snake molting from its skin, stronger than ever. And they’re coming for you.
You’ve already discovered that fighting them won’t work — it’ll give you a few moments of respite, yes, but they’ll inevitably come back to you. Maybe you can wait it out. Or maybe there’s another way to stop their advance?
Eventually, it shows itself. A grotesque monster built around your worst fears, all merged together. Always watching, sometimes smiling in anticipation. You see it standing outside the window from afar, or following you across the grove but vanishing before you can charge to it yourself. You hear it when you’re trying to go about your day, dealing with awful pranks and the heavy weariness that comes with the lack of sleep. Sometimes it manifests right before you, swinging at you before it vanishes again, leaving you with only your racing heartbeat and whatever injury it may have left.
As time passes, it only gets worse. For however confined the Grove is, it truly feels cramped with these monsters stalking you, chasing you, hunting you. When they’re killed, they rise again from their own shed corpse like a snake molting from its skin, stronger than ever. And they’re coming for you.
You’ve already discovered that fighting them won’t work — it’ll give you a few moments of respite, yes, but they’ll inevitably come back to you. Maybe you can wait it out. Or maybe there’s another way to stop their advance?
SPARK NOTES
CLICK TO EXPAND!
FROSTED MORNINGS
There's hot chocolate in the air (and also in a mug) and you can now communicate long distances via network notebooks ("netbooks"). Have fun, be nice.
MISCHIEF MISBLAMED
Little pranksters want to Get you. They'll get more hostile and even murderous throughout the month (although they'll spend the first half of it trying to frame other people for their crimes).
AN ONSET OF DREAD
Abstract monsters based on your fears are following you. You can't kill them, but they can kill you. Maybe there's some way to stop them?
OOC
It's November, somehow! If you'd like to plot with people for this event, head over to OOC plotting. Our locations pages & FAQ were updated within this last week, so please read through those when you get a chance. We have an interest check linked below for a future plotline as well and would appreciate feedback on that post (or just an "I'm interested" comment) as well!
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