Summer has come and gone and a crisp Fall breeze takes its place. The leaves have already started to change, lighting up the woods like a great fire. The moon is merely a sliver in the sky, blanketing the lands in almost complete darkness. With the change of seasons comes something else. It's an ominous feeling hovering over the woods of Denocte. It may draw one closer to it or make them feel too uneasy to go any further.
It's said that on All Hallow's Eve, the veil between the dead and the living is thin. As it gets closer to this day, the presence of spirits - both good and bad - becomes more common. They may appear in their full forms or as small balls of light. Some are strong enough to bring chills to one's spine and some may even cause disruption. There may be the sound of footsteps, but no one can be seen for miles.
There is a rumor about one spirit in particular named Alyndra. The story goes that she was wrongfully killed and left among these woods between the mountains and the lake. Her body became one with the trees and her spirit continues to haunt this place, showing up more clearly during this time of year. Some have said they've heard sobbing and wailing coming from the forest and believe it to be Alyndra. They also could've sworn they heard a weak voice call out - "Help me!"
With the fall festivities kicking off all around Denocte, some have wandered closer to the woods out of curiosity. The voice of a powerful spirit named Alyndra carries over the wind and beckons outsiders to come forth. She is sad and tired and angry. She wants freedom. She wants revenge. Some have even heard crying and wailing.
Will you take the risk and enter the woods? There's no telling what you'll find, but it's said she will offer a prize to the one who can come free her.
--
This event will run similar to the SWP where it will take place in a single thread. Once this kicks off, you will have two choices in each round as to how your character will proceed. A random dice roll will be done to determine which choice allows you to move forward. A prize of 500 signos will be given to the individual who is successful in completing this event by the end. This first round is simply to allow entry and the second round will begin the progression rolls.
You have until 11:59pm EST on Friday, October 11th to enter. Characters from any alliance (Court or no Court) can join in. Happy haunting!
(Please message @Katherine or @Layla if you have any questions!)
take that look from off your face you ain't gunna burn my heart out
Minya comes before she goes to the maze. She comes drawn to the lonely wailing as a moth is drawn into the flame. She comes knowing the danger and how wrong it is. She comes because it is a woman crying Help me! into the cold emptiness of the night. She comes because her past is a sorrowful tale of not being able to help and her scars beg for forgiveness.
The dark of trees beckon her in great and tall and still. They shroud her in mist that whispers so many tales of the dead in her ear. They whisper of how a woman died, of how her murderers left her broken and gone in the deep of the wood that grows as wild thorns about her torso and pricks the skin of passersby and demands they remember. This night its thorns draw back and let the woman rise, still broken, still wronged, to wander and beg and hope that she might be saved: one day.
With each step Minya’s ire blooms. With each step her heart shatters. She wanders until she is frayed inside and only the steel of her skin is enough to hold her righteousness in. Can she find this girl and hear the story of another woman who died like her mother? Deeper and deeper Minya roams, until darkness descends thick and metallic. It presses cold upon her skin and shields all the world from her eyes. There is nothing here, int he deepest black. Nothing but the sounds of a woman crying and Minya turns towards it, her hair a fountain of brilliant pink cascading to the floor in lamentation. “Tell me.” She murmurs into the wholesome black. “Tell me what happened to you…” The girl’s voice is a croak, it is a plea, shattered by fear and the cold of night that sinks deep into her bones.
Word traveled that the Night Court were hosting a fall festival and Corr immediately starts to pack her things to head to Denocte. Hāsta comes with her feeling surprisingly chipper and the woman wonders if her companion was sick. The fall weather always seems to put Corr into a good mood, so perhaps the crow is finally picking up on this too.
The pair had previously stopped at the memorials within the market before coming to these woods. Dusk were preparing their own vigil for those they had lost recently, but it was nice to see her friends remembered even in Night. She had gotten teary eyed seeing Asterion's name on paper with a candle next to it, but she paid her respects and placed flowers on the altars.
There was a rumor of a troubled soul trapped in the woods. Corr knew if she didn't check it out, it would bother her for a long time. She did not possess the ability of mediumship, but she had family who did. There were some things she could remember and she hopes that might be enough to try and help the spirit pass on.
As she approaches the woods, there is a chill that crawls up her spine. Hāsta must have felt it too because she makes a startled squawk noise from her perch on the mare's shoulder. She flaps her wings but does not leave her perch just yet. It's clear her previous chipper attitude is gone.
The moon is barely a shape in the sky since they are so close to the New Moon cycle, so the land is almost completely black. There is not much to reference off of, especially since Corr is not familiar with traveling the area. They manage to make it though, just in time for them to hear a faint "help me!" followed by another distant voice.
"I don't like this…" Hāsta says through their telepathy.
"It'll be alright," the crow witch whispers in assurance to her companion as she continues forward.
"Hello?" she calls out, either to the spirit or the other voice she had heard. It's so difficult to see any clear path in front of them and, for once, there is a bit of fear in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps they were coming into something they were a bit inexperienced to handle. But Corr keeps her spirits up as she knows how terrible it can be for a soul to be trapped. They had to try and do something now while the veil between the worlds was thinner.
( @Minya - for the indirect mention, Corr can kind of hear her far away but can't see her)
I swear to god
I wasn't born to fight.
Maybe just a little bit.
Enough to make me sick of it.
These woods are a prison, its trees the bars of a cage and the sallow, sickle moon that hangs overhead like a swinging lantern does little to dispel the image. Up above he can hear the music that falls in cascades from the solid stone of the city, bounces from charred wall to charred wall until it wafts all the way to the lake, to the woods. The night is crisp and the air trembles when he breathes it. He cannot go to the city. Its masses, especially now that the festival is in full swing, make his bones feel to big for his body. If Michael is a ghost himself then surely he belongs here, trapped in the mist that gathers in every valley and rolls off every tangled root.
The woods say, help me.
The woods do not ask as much as they howl -- a distant but jarring voice that leaves him shaken. In reality it is very quiet, but a voice at all where a voice should not have come from in the first place rings in him like so many bells.
(Alarms.)
Michael is not sure he believes in ghosts. He is not sure he believes in anything at all. But he does know that he believes in the way that this voice leaves him pitted and empty, some deep and desperate want that fills the hole as fast as it is torn open.
Michael knows only that he must.
So he does.
He tells himself, it's only one step. He tells himself, what's the worst that can happen? So many things have tried to kill him and still he survives. He isn't sure he wants to survive, anyway.
So he does. He steps. And though his legs feel at once like lead and electrivity, though the cold and the mist and the sense of black dread sink into his bones and stay there, he does.
He thinks only that he must.
Below Zero
my frost philosophy will put no curse on me
The Harvest Festival was in full swing, or at least heading that way, and Bel, being the exploring-type that she was was eager to head that way as well. Curiosity propelled her forward, into Denocte to look at a land she had not yet seen. But with her arrival she had caught the stories of the spirits of the forest, the whispering please, and so it was curiosity again that took the young mare elsewhere, heading in another direction yet again - towards the lake where this haunted forest lay. The moon lit the way, not that Below Zero needed, creating her own glow as her markings came alive in the dark, a cyan glow surrounding her as she walked. A brief thought flirted with her forethoughts that she herself might look a fright, a startle to anyone who might see her in passing. A glowing cyan creature that cut and odd figure with a dual-nature build.
The aquatic-equine carried forward regardless, heading towards the forest and stopping before it. The crisp breeze carried the scent of fall to the mare's nose, fallen leaves carried across the ground. Finned ears perked forward as one hoof pawed at the ground delicately, curious and eager for what might be hiding in those thickly gathered trees. What secrets might it hid- Help me! the voice was weak but feminine, and Bel's eyes grew wide. Ghost or no Ghost, that was a cry for help. Below Zero took a step inside, a feeling of wrongness washing over her, but she shrugged it off and took off at a gallop, uncertain of what she would find as she zipped around tree trunks, her glow carried around her. Something was here, asking for help, and it sounded like a living equine, a female. "Hello? Are you there? Why do you need help?" She called out as she moved, ears primed to pick up any more sounds, as she was taken deeper into the forest.
Thoughts Speech
Notes: Yay for ghosties
i feel no cold, i feel no fear inside my mind Now I'm full of energy
The forest grew tall and cold infront of her, the limbs gnarled and twisted together, and seeming even colder than the crisp night air. The little doe waited for any sign of life, any greeting from the forest - but as it always was . . . the world was silent to her, silent, cold . . . distant. She waited for any hint of what might be hiding within the depths of the forest . . . but there was nothing to be seen, to be heard. She moved forward, breathing out a half-tense sigh. No warmth, no welcome, just an unsettling feeling. The forest seemed so cold to her, so far-away - so unwelcoming. She pushed those thoughts to the side, with a silent hope that the world wasn't growing cold to her. It seemed to close to the possibility that there'd never be a time of warmth and welcome again. With out her magic . . . things seemed so different.
Cally shook of those thoughts, prepared to brave the difference and head with in the forest, her gaze determined. Her cloak was slung over her shoulders, fastened quick to keep her warm in the chilly night air. Her arrows were fully stocked, and the bow made by Isra herself and gifted to her was ready to be drawn at any moment, for any reason. Help- The sound caused the little doe to jump, her tail flashing white in her alarm as she looked around. She'd heard the ghost stories . . . but surely they weren't real. Cally forced another deep breath. While exploring was in her blood . . . . being frightened was not. The doe shook it off and continued forward, "Uh, he-hello? Is anyone there?" She made a face as her voice quivered, and forced the rest of the question to come out strong. No reply came, and so she ventured forward. Ghosts weren't real - right? So it couldn't be a ghost - right? Help me? This time the little doe did visibly jump - much higher this time. And even when her hooves clanked against the ground again, her tail remained lifted, and flashing white of fear. She glanced around nervously, hoping for a familiar face or anything to prove it wasn't a ghost, "Uh, wh-who needs help? Is e-everything okay?"
"Speech"
She's afraid of Ghosts? Really?! O.O
Let's jump on the sun and ride it to tomorrow together, where everything is brighter and sure to be better.
The chilly night was not the reason for the shiver that travelled down his spine. Crimson eyes moved over the expanse of darkness before him, a tall ominous beast that growled and screamed. No, that wasn’t the forest that made him feel it… that was something else.
Ramses tilted his head, ears swivelled as he sought out that sound. It sounded like something he’d heard before upon the dry desert wind. The wailing of lost souls, from those who had fallen victim to the desert’s merciless appetite. The spectral beings would appear on the dunes, staring and whispering but he’d grown used to ignoring such things. It was dangerous to betray the desert and appease the spirits for she was a selfish, greedy thing.
The man did believe in ghosts and as he listened intently, he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to this one. Walking forward, he was embraced happily by the darkness. The coyote relied on his other senses as he travelled through the midnight wood-- the sobbing not growing closer but never moving further away. That monster in his chest was roaring, shaking the bars of its bony cage, clawing at the man’s heart. A sharp intake of breath escaped the red skinned stallion as he came to a sudden realization.
Perhaps this being did not want to be found unless it was on its terms? There was no telling what the phantom had been through and maybe it required some sort of trust to show itself. How horrible would it be to die here, to be stuck here with unfinished business. The forest was beautiful, yes, but it was also overwhelming and suffocating. Ramses doubted whoever had died here had meant for it to happen.
The body here would be invaded by roots and violated by vegetation, there was no sun and no warmth. It was a terrible place to perish, without Solis’s face upon your skin. He would rather be ashes on the wind then be trapped here forever. For once in his life, he felt an odd emotion rolling about inside his chest… The coyote had no idea what it could be (for it was sympathy) and he stopped, scarlet eyes analyzing the vast darkness.
"If only you could be warmed by the sun," he found himself whispering to whoever needed it. It was his way of offering help, his way of showing that unknown emotion.
"Let me guide you out," the giant offered for whatever the spirit required.
"Speaking." Tag: @n/a OOC: this was rough for Ramses
Halloween. It was a holiday that she loved. It is surprising at all that the most unsocial beast in Dawn Courts likes the festivities that encompass Halloween. She lived for the scary costumes and the green light to scare the shit out of children. How could she not pass up that sort of opportunity? And especially know with her magic, it made it all the easier to scare them. Just thinking about all the child screams made her a little giddy inside.
But let’s not get too cocky. Sloane is not one who enjoys the company of others, so she will never be seen around trick-or-treaters. She will lay in hide and wait for those passing by to come into her trap. Tonight, she intends to scare the shit out of some kids in the forest. With everyone coming to Denocte to celebrate All Hallow’s Eve, there was an abundance of victims.
Deciding that the best place to stage her trap was along the lake. There were many that had set up tents and made small communities there. The tree line offered cover, darkness, and an abundance of hiding places. Yes, the forest seemed like the most logical place to get some scares.
When the moon was at its highest (even if it didn’t let out an abundance of light on this particular evening), Sloane made her escape into the forest. She slinked into the shadows, following the trees and using her magic to blend in with them expertly. But someone (or something) had its own plan to scare her instead. Someone was calling for help, crying and wailing. Someone was trying to get her attention but she would not have any of it. Whoever was causing all the ruckus needed to get a move on. They were cramping her style big time.
Summer has cooled into fall and Katniss can only watch in awe as the land around her changes. Denocte is filled with the colors of fall. Leaves are orange, red, and brown and the sky is more cloudy than normal. The temperatures are beginning to drop, leaving the area with a crispness that foreshadows the cold winter to come.
But in this day, this All Hallow’s Eve, Katniss can feel the closeness of the living and dead. She can feel Metaphor just out of reach, his words filling her mind and keeping her sane. She knows her lover is near, she can feel him with each beat of her heart, each breath of her lungs. She knows he is close and she wishes she could reach out and touch him again. It’s bittersweet, to miss someone so greatly and know that they are just out of reach.
She finds herself in the forest by the lake, meandering her patrols as she did every evening. Kibou is tucked away at home (or so she believes) and most of Denocte should be asleep. There is something eerie about the forest tonight. The wind howls a little more than normal and she can make out a few words. Someone, or something, is calling for help. The warrior in her is ready for the challenge, to protect her court and to rescue the one asking for help. Little does she know that who is calling for help might not be a friend…
Rhone has always been the one to put on a brave face, to lead his people where they needed to go. He has always been the vision of strength, of hope, of a future. But tonight, as he stands just at the entrance of the dark forest, he feels anything but. He feels as though his knees are shaking, as if his fur is standing on edge. There is something about this forest that makes him feel uneasy. He is unsure, but he presses onward.
Steps lead him into the darkness, the moon offering no sort of haven for him tonight. He does not have his light magic, the first time in a long time he wished that he did. Perhaps then he could light his own path, lead himself through the darkness and into the light at the other side. But tonight, Rhone enters the forest alone.
His uneasiness does not stop there. Even as he begins to walk, he can fear what sounds like wailing. Ears are alert, pressed forward as he takes cautious steps forward. He thinks it sounds like someone crying, but the wind is whipping through the trees so perhaps it is only the wind.
But then there is the sound of footsteps, following him through the woods. He pauses, turning to look around him in search of who might be hiding in the shadows. He sees nothing. Perhaps that is what makes him uneasy. "Hello? Who’s there?" His voice nearly trembles as he stands listening for an answer. All he hears is a faint “Help me!” Eyes pass from one side to the next, unable to see who is answering his questions. Perhaps it is just all in his head. Ghosts aren’t real, are they?
![[Image: i-jTNwWx8.png]](https://photos.smugmug.com/BelowZeroNovus/n-X9d9fZ/i-jTNwWx8/1/e09fb6c3/O/i-jTNwWx8.png)
