where the forest has teeth

Winter in the Grove is always harsh. In the early days it seemed tolerable though- sure, Heimr was insistent on proper gear, but he always is. But there’s a sudden shift, a drop in the temperatures and heavier frost on the windows that last longer than the morning. Birdsong no longer echoes through the woods- maybe a few sad coos from the church, but little else. To see the plant infused animal spirits is suddenly much rarer, as is any sign of critters is scarce if at all present.

The lake is a bitter cold that’s sharp as knives, with only the faint glow from Terho’s windows showing any signs of warmth around the lake and cabin- even it’s Guardian finds it to be too much, preferring the tank prepared for him to sleep in as the chill sets in on his mind. The river is only barely better- though the edges are starting to freeze over, there’s still a bit of life left and Sinann’s presence is still felt. The divine fruits and berries, at least, are still untouched by frost… Though, it’s plain to see there’s not nearly as many fish as there are in warmer months. Even the Seaborn population seems to have taken a hit…

Winter is setting its claws into the forest painfully. Even as the fog pulls back so severely, something watches unseen from the trees. And every day the frost and snow worsen until everything is frozen over.

The hope of the flowing water in the river doesn’t last long. Soon it’s all frozen over, and even Aurora is nowhere to be seen, which is impressive given her size. Moder takes the time for one last task before hunkering somewhere warm with her wolf, resting from the cold. Even Zahliya seems less active, staying in the church rather than atop that between his patrols, and sometimes the cold is so strong one may want to join them in napping somewhere safe. Zonari herself is not unaffected either, resting in the barn and not coming out.

The only sound of the Grove is yourself- your breaths, the crunch of your steps in the snow, the ruffle and shifting of your coat and clothes. It would be peaceful if not for how lonely it is, even with company.

Someone will have to fix that.

At some point, every door gets a rapt knocking with Ydalir or Heimr waiting with warm eyes and a gentle smile.

“We figured it’s no good sittin’ alone in all this-”

“So we are holding a feast like no other! I will bring you all your favorites from home, in exchange for fruit from the trees and shells from the shore!”

And so they lead each resident room by room and household by household to the inn’s dining hall. The wood walls are wreathed in ribbons and warm lights, bows of holly and ribbons hanging from rafters and above windows while snowdrops are painted all along everything they could reach.

Ydalir’s mirror hangs over the fireplace, and as you bring the requested items, she pulls dishes from your home, comforting favorites that perhaps you haven’t seen in some time. She encourages everyone to share, to lay each piece out on the longest table and sit together. Enchantments mean everyone gets a taste, even those who logically shouldn’t, and as the wind and snow howls outside, music plays from a painted phonograph.

Staying isn’t necessary, but for now? Sit and be with the others. Share in your home comforts. The chill will be there tomorrow. We’re here today.

As the season turns, and blood sinks into the ground of the Grove, as monsters with your face haunt the halls, waiting to pounce, something else is creeping into light. Distantly one might see a light in the forest at night, and the next it comes closer. And closer. Until in the treeline you can see it: a pitch black manor that looks as if it’s covered in ash. The trees act as its gates, rebuffing anyone who tries to investigate, and the air smells like rot. Something watches in the windows, but vanishes when you blink.

… But not even this dark manor can stand in the way of one very angry grandfather skeleton, who will, eventually, rattle his teeth and bones in a rallying cry and urge others to follow him, sword in hand. It’s time to storm the castle, and Mr. Bone-Jangles has had enough.

The air within the manor is frigid and biting, and the inside itself is as decrepit as you may expect. Lights and candles can light the way… but only for a few minutes. The wood creaks as if the building is breathing slowly, and sometimes you here a loud thum-thump, as if its unseen heart beats while you explore.

For an already imposing building, inside seems even larger and there’s almost no end in sight as it feels like the halls wind on forever and more and more rooms, from libraries to studies to bedrooms to- … is this room dedicated to WWE Wrestler Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson? … Needless to say, there’s a lot to work through, but Bone-Jangles urges you onward.

Wisps of color drift through. Are they your friends? Or something else?

And to those who have been locked away for days, perhaps weeks, nothing in this house feels real. Is it a dream? Is it a nightmare? The mere mention of a potential addition from your lips manifests another new room within the manor, but you cannot touch anything. Light hurts and makes you dizzy, while the night is painfully cold. How long has it been? How long will it be?

The burst of life is- new. Exciting. Distantly, you know these people, but the urges of death are whimsical and cruel. Part of you wants to guide them to the attic, where your souls are chained in full to a portrait of you. Break those portraits, and you're free, coming back to life outside, which is what you want, isn't it? Another part of you wants to chase them out, how dare they intrude upon your afterlife? Another yet thinks it’s time to play, but no longer remembers what ‘play’ is- so surely they can dodge the plates and books, right? Right!



And another yet wants the intruders dead. And if not by your hands, then by the demons guarding this world alongside you.

You don’t recall how you got here. Hell, you’re barely sure “why” you’re here in the first place. But the fact is, by the time you come to your senses, you’re already standing in line out in front of a tent with a big sign on it: FREE STUFF! FIRST COME FIRST SERVE!

Others who have been here longer are aware of you, of course. They watched you ambling around on autopilot for two hours before the sign went up, and then you suddenly hopped into the queue (and maybe even cut in line! the horror!) before the brain fog cleared. Where are you? Why are you in line? Do you even want free stuff? All of these questions can only be answered when you see what the free stuff is.

…it’s random junk. Random magical junk, mind, but when a woman made of solid shadows hands you a wand that apparently summons a small amount of pigeons “per day, until it breaks”, you take it. Or, perhaps, the item was a crystal ball that only shows you made-up scenes from a book. Or it’s a hand-fan that blows only warm air, or a pen that writes all of your letters backwards despite the fact you yourself aren’t doing that… anything quirky and stupid is within the realm of possibility, and Ydalir is trying so hard to get rid of her failed magical experiments. Please. Please take these. Her tent is overstocked and she needs to start anew.

And to those of you who are new here, she’ll offer a friendly greeting and wave, and ask you how your head is feeling after that strange wandering session earlier. Don’t feel pressured to answer; the line needs to keep moving, after all.

At some point as the summer fades into autumn, something in the air changes. The surrounding woods and its foggy walls have felt tenser than usual, like something is waiting for you to slip and fall into jaws just waiting to snap shut around your flesh — but nothing happens. Not initially, at least. But keen eyes will soon see a plethora of fairies, long sleeves dangling over razor-sharp claws like a praying mantis’s arms, hair tied back in loose buns, all wearing masks with a single watchful eye painted upon them. As your gazes meet, they giggle and disperse.

And then there are more. And as more gather, watching the paths you take, the houses and buildings erected, the way you move through the gardens, they begin to screech like cicadas. Like alarms.

It could be the lumbering, moss-covered frog that leaps towards you from the lake, large enough to match a car. It could be the wood and stone-crusted bear, spears and arrows collected in its haunches like decoration and not the injuries they clearly are, standing taller than anything you’ve ever seen. It could be the long, winding dragon with lichen dripping off of it, coiling through the trees. Regardless, the fairies are calling to your location and one of them is going to answer.

They chase with an almost single-minded perseverance, with claws and sticky tongues and fangs — stealth is the key, so long as the fairies don’t rat you out again. Though they can be fought, they cannot die in a way that matters — just as easily as flesh tears, it will stitch itself back together and hold a grudge.

Every broken twig is a signal to your location. Every brush of wind in the trees and the grass could be the monsters stalking after you.

It’s time to play: Hide and Seek.

cw: supernatural parasitism & energy/life-force draining
… And where do those captured go, when all is said and done? None of the Seekers actually kill them after all — they may carry their unfortunate victims within their mouths if they are large enough to do so, but as soon as one is captured, they leave.

Though it’s risky to try and track them through the woods, those who try or stay awake during their capture will find themselves taken down a winding path in the fog. One can also bribe a fairy or two to help — or at least not rat you out. A shiny object or food — berries, honey, the fresh-killed heart of that songbird on the branch, all work fine to win its favor for a time. Eventually, they’ll find themselves up a path to a gargantuan tree covered in glowing boils — it’s something that manages to dwarf even the whale-sized moose that may wander by wordlessly, impassive to your plights as moose are wont to do.

Sickly motes of light waft through the air and gently-glowing flowers bloom all around the land, moss glistens against the bark and dirt and perhaps if this place was not so warped by evil, it could have been beautiful once. Coiled around the tree is a vine where the captured are tied to, and they will feel…

Tired. Compliant. Don’t you wish to sleep? The tree needs you. Don’t struggle. Don’t resist. Sleep, and dream no more…

Keen eyes will see the skeletons of former victims further up the vines. As the tree feeds on its captives’ life force, fairies and the Seekers stand guard, only going out to fetch more victims. Do you make the attempt? Or will you come back with reinforcements?

… But regardless of the hostility from the forest, the game must come to an end eventually. And in return for surviving, upon whatever throne he sits upon, the Black Sun offers the world a bit of power as the victims recover — those who perish to the monsters will awaken within their beds, unable to remember anything for a total 24 hours and with floral growths blooming around their scars — but after the initial panic, those who can will confirm that there is no Corruption in these wounds. They may fade, or they may not. Those who survive the month will only carry whatever injuries and weariness they gained over time.

Come morning light, the area of the river will give off a bright glow. Investigation will yield a lot of pain in the eyes, like looking directly at the sun, but eventually it dies down and residents of the Grove can properly have a look at the river again. Those that do may find themselves pleasantly surprised. While clouds shield the skies most of the time, over the river there is a gentle, warm sunlight and blue skies. The abundance of riverside foliage has grown, with new species available for those who can recognize such things — and the water, crisp and clearer than ever, holds more types of fish and amphibians as well. Besides the apple tree — Sinann’s gift for freedom long ago, and Moder’s blackberry bush — new is fruit available. The apple tree is flanked by a peach tree and an orange tree, while the other side of the riverbank houses… …A durian tree.

Some Guardians are grateful. Callan is Callan.

Perhaps best of all though is that Sinann itself has grown in size and in power: in fact, as you approach, it floats above the water to give a greeting.

“Thank you once more for your help.”

You open your eyes to a peaceful, beautiful forest. Whatever you were dreaming about — be it something happy, something sad, or something nightmarish — seems secondary to the bright wash of greenery and the comforting, cooling breeze that washes over you. It rustles the leaves of the canopy overhead, disturbing a small nest of two-headed birds who chirp as the sticks for their nests are blown away. A hop, hop, hop later, and they return to continue their building, unbothered by your gaze.

As you walk around, you will find that Aldric’s Grove feels… empty. You pop your head into the inn only to find a fine layer of dust on the furniture, and an ever-burning fireplace refusing to be put out. The General Store is unmanned, the door locked, and the lights inside completely out. The house to the south is abandoned, and a building labelled as a clinic sports no patients. The most life you’ll find lies in the church, where the pigeons see you and swarm at your feet, cooing and asking for breadcrumbs.

Flowers bloom, a deer with a halo of horns skips through the clearing, and a small lizard shaped like a leaf climbs the well. You spend several hours alone… and then from the woods to the east comes a giant capybara and a monstrous moose two stories tall. Upon each of them, they carry a hoard of people coming back from what is clearly a summer vacation, if the inner tubes, swimwear, and overwhelming stench of sunscreen are anything to go by.

Maybe the people dismounting the two animals will be nice enough to greet you and tour you around. It’s the least they can do, since you were excluded from the vacation activities.

It’s still early in the month when a cacophony occurs; an enormous crocodile with too many eyes, known simply as “The Behemoth” suddenly rushes out of the river in a panic as some kind of blue, veinlike latticework covers the surface of it, nearly trapping her within it. It spreads across the entire length of the river from east to west, creeping onto the shoreline up to the church and across the back of the home to the south. When touched, it stings bad enough to paralyse the nervous system, and after making contact for too long while you’re unable to move? Death is imminent, unless someone saves you.

The Behemoth certainly doesn’t try to, too occupied plonking around on land to look for something to do while she can’t go into the water. She won’t attack anyone, but she’s normally searching for a meal, if you don’t mind sharing a snack. As for the other supernatural creatures in the Grove…

Ever since that latticework covered the river, the moose monster — Moder — and the gargoyle that sits on the church’s roof — Zahliya — have only stared and scrutinized. One wrong move, one fight with another resident of the Grove, means either of them are getting up to deal with the problem. It seems that they’re waiting for someone here to show the wrong hand, suspicious of everyone — including those who have been here for over a year at this point. And the second one toe is out of line? Either of them are willing and ready to kill.

Though the suspicion of the Guardians doesn’t wear off and won’t any time soon, the blue gunk covering the river disappears at the end of the first week of July, and it’s anyone’s guess what’ll happen for the rest of the month.

cw: thalassophobia
What happens is pretty simple if you don’t think about it: Another week passes in peace, and then a disembodied voice somewhere in the woods says, “You guys still smell like seawater and sand, and it’s putting me off of my lunch,” and if you’re new and haven’t gone to the beach yet and have no idea what the voice is talking about… too bad, you’re being lumped in with the crowd. Being lumped in also includes, well… a burst of magic, the sound of fingers snapping, and a loud splash of water. When you next open your eyes…

You’re underwater in some kind of reinforced metal base, one thousand meters under the sea, and something is slamming against the outside of it in an attempt to get in and — presumably — eat you alive. If anyone finds the on-board torpedoes in the command room in time, you might be able to kill the creature before it breaks through the hull and kills everyone inside. And with that hopefully taken care of…

Welcome to your new home for the next two weeks. Your only objective is to survive. There are several rooms here dedicated to underwater research, a bedroom with enough uncomfortable single-person beds for everyone (sadly glued to the floor, too), and a “cafeteria” type room that you can eat in. While the seabase comes equipped with supplies — torpedoes, enough rations to last for everyone but not enough for big eaters to eat big, diving suits and oxygen tanks, and underwater planter boxes growing strange fruits — it may take some effort on your part to ensure that survival is guaranteed. After all, the hungry leviathans know exactly where you are, whether you go outside of the base or not. Water, of course, may pose an issue; there’s no way to filter the seawater here, so the bottled water you have is all you’ll get.

Should you venture out, make sure you’re equipped with the proper gear first. Those of you who cannot swim should probably stay indoors, as there are no fancy vehicles to take you anywhere. Those of you capable of going out may consider braving the danger in search of additional supplies… or perhaps you’re just curious about the ecosystem. You’ll be here for two weeks, after all, there must be something to do. Travel far enough from the base and you’ll find the skeletal remains of something far larger than the Grove itself… and if you’re not careful, a monstrous, snakelike thing who wants you for dinner.

Try not to lead it back to the base for the others to deal with. Who knows how kindly people will take to that?

As always, when one of the Forest’s “games” ends and you’re returned to the surface when the magic wears off, there’s a reward waiting for you. This reward isn’t as obvious, however. The fog wall is, for the most part, rolled pretty far back. The folks that have been here before may expect to see it revealing more of the trees, or showing off some new area that hasn’t been accessible yet, but the Grove remains quiet upon return. The Guardians, too, have little to say. Normally, they’d be a little more overjoyed at your return… alas.

No, the “reward” for surviving — or blowing up the base immediately and dying, either way — is that the fog wall obscuring the lake ever so slowly rolls back. From within it, something jumps out, a dark black shape, and disappears into the forest.

…

Perhaps you’ll see whatever it is another time.