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sticksandbones2023-05-19 05:20 pm
EVENT 001: BY LANTERN LIGHT
...bring may flowers, as the rhymes go. None are so brutal as the tantrum the Woods threw upon it's defeat in the game, no lightning visibly striking the ground or targeting you when you have to step outside... in fact, most of the afflictions from the game all those nights ago have seemed to have faded, save for lingering plant friends who truly intend to overstay their welcome. And with the rain, new life springs forth: the small flowers that littered the ground sporadically grow in number, and some in size. It's a pleasant sight, even if... hm. You may not be an expert in flowers but some of these don't seem Forest-Native. And if you are an expert in flowers, then some of these definitely aren't. Alongside the wood anemone, wild geranium, and blue wood aster, there are sunflowers, poppies and jasmine flowers and more - keen eyes can also spot the sprouts of wild strawberries.
Oddly enough, Rusty seems to disapprove of some of these flowers. Because he is just digging them up when he finds them, huffing angrily when he's done. His choice almost seems random, but as time passes there are plenty of holes scattered throughout the grove. Watch your step.
Another oddity is that some of these flowers are larger than they should be. And some of those large flowers, when you reach out to touch them in your inspections, touch back - leaves or viney tendrils gently wrapping around your fingers. When you jerk your hand back, blood drips from your fingers from where the edge of the plant had turned razor sharp for just a moment as you withdrew, but the flower returns to normal. Notably, this doesn't happen with every normal or odd flower though...
Occasionally, one can hear heavy footsteps through the hallways of the inn at night, slow and steady, pausing just before a door. And then moving onto the next. Whatever the source is, it makes no effort to come in- but in the morning, every door to a room that houses someone is marked: a semi-hollow circle at the bottom with an outer barrier that holds back several diamonds, painted in red. ... It's not blood, at least, that is immediately obvious. Should you try to remove the mark, it reappears the next day, freshly painted. The magically inclined, however, can tell that this is a sigil to protect your room.
And of course no one is just going to let a heavy-footed stranger wander the halls at night after they had to fend off a wood-and-metal moosetaur. So those who step out at night to investigate will find... the Shopkeeper, carrying a bucket of rather foul-smelling paint. When questioned, he simply tells you to go back to sleep. And you do.
However, during the day, the Shopkeeper seems even more tired than usual. Why, you might even catch him dozing at his counter. Who knew shadowy whisps in the shape of men needed to sleep too? ... You might have to wake him up for your purchases, though. Unless you want to try something.
On a dry day, the Shopkeeper can be seen hauling out a large wooden table- almost like a half of a felled tree. Once that's done and settled, stumpy chairs join the table, and then? Paper, reeds, twigs and wicker are laid out. Paints and little carving tools, too. Eventually, he sits down and starts to make something. When questioned, he gestures for you to have a seat.
"We're makin' lanterns," Is what he says eventually, as he guides you in what to do. "The Trader out in the woods has more things that can help, but she can't navigate the woods without a guide. So we're makin' them for her."
As you construct your lanterns, working together or playing around, he watches almost fondly before resuming his work. Gradually, as each lantern gets finished, he either takes them to hang, or instructs you to hang them up either outside or in a window- wherever they can be seen from the outside. Though he hadn't provided a light source, once the lantern is hung it begins to glow. Once the final light is strung up, the Shopkeeper steps into his store and then comes out with a strange horn, blowing into it. The sound is loud, deep and bellowing, but he only plays once. And then he waits...
And waits.
And waits.
Until finally, in the distance, the sound of a similar horn echoes back.
It's a typical foggy morning when the clamor begins, with heavy steps and loud laughter and dozens of items rattling together. Through the fog, a dim light can be seen before a rather... large red and brown turtle slowly lumbers through. On it's back sits a shadowy woman cloaked in a vivid scarlet and gold, hood wrapped as if it's draped from a horned headpiece sits, and behind her a large pack of everything and anything sits tied down. As soon as the turtle settles in the center of the grove by the well, she slides off, already bringing the pack down with her to set up a stall. Her good mood flickers when she sees you.
"So you are the reasons he called me back! Here I thought he was just being sentimental. But! A new meeting is always something beauiful, no? Come, come, help an old woman out. Or better yet, tell that old stiff I'm here-" The Shopkeeper almost definitely knows already. "-He can do the heavy lifting."
The stall unfolds quickly, like a tent full of light and warmth. Her wares include metals and tools, candies and fruits- and behind her, a strange mirror. It isn't for sale but you can't help but think of home when you look at it, no matter how familiar or unfamiliar it is. The turtle settles onto the ground, eyes fluttering closed before he settles into a deep nap. The Trader seems to dance around as she flits from display to display, before she settles before you. You think if she had a face, she'd be smiling wildly.
Welcome to the Trader's stop.
CLICK TO EXPAND!
no subject
[ ...it happens. these stories don't always have the happy endings you would wish for.
he really has been,
fortunate, so far, huh.
he thinks about the sigils on everyone's doors. ]
What happened... the night the attack came?
no subject
( there is not a town hall. )
...
Someone enacted a ritual. To keep the souls free, unable to be grasped by the forest ever again. Even in death. When the massacre occurred- and it was a massacre, no matter how valiantly we tried to fight back- the forest could not claim the dead anymore. Not their bodies, nor their souls. It was furious.
Only my brother, Rusty and I remain. The Claimed, Gods help her soul, we do not know. And Rusty... Rusty waits. Always.
no subject
the villain, here, is dire and covetous in its evil. any 'invitation,' in truth, demand... that it would not willingly lose, and relinquish those it had marked as its own, preferring to kill them all in cold blood in a slighted rage even those people it had once succeeded to lead along... ]
I'm so sorry. The three of you... have went through so much.
...I can-- I feel like... in your places, looking at all of us here, at once... I would also be. Uh.
Concerned.
no subject
( more than she can ever say. )
No one should be able to be here. Least of all you and yours. ... But my brother and I, we will help you. And Rusty's keen on where the beasts and poison lie.
no subject
Or was this place, um... very, very unlucky, in its founding?