Fantasy A Series of Magically, Fantastically, Perilously, Tragically, Coincidentally, Unlikely, Likely Events

[Doctor Llamabean]

INTRODUCTION

SCENE:

Welcome to Sparrow

LOCATION:

Town of Sparrow, Moibanza

DATE & WEATHER:

1403 Interregnum; Early Fall — Warm but windy

WELCOME TO SPARROW

It was no secret how the town of Sparrow had come to find its name. It may have been the wheat and rice fields that gained it the King’s favor, but it was the appearance of a bird perched upon every beam, post, and railing, or whatever else gave purchase their tiny feet, that carried its reputation. They especially favored the stables, pecking away at travelers’ saddlebags and through piles of dung.

Every now and then the stable boy swung his broom, scaring them off. They irked the horses, and he’d be damned if he was going to take another hoof to the knee over too brave a bird sticking its nose where it ought to not.

He’d run them off, then carry on with his duties, and within not time enough to walk from one end of the stable barn to the next would they be back, sometimes a bigger flock than they’d left.

It wasn’t a large town, Sparrow. But it earned its place on the King’s map. The wheat fields were small and the rice fields smaller, but yield was yield, and the King was wise enough a man to appreciate that.

Not a popular town, never had been—the place had scarce entertainment to offer and hardly any historical relevance—but events of late had its name on the lips of every backpacker and wanderer that passed through and out. Stories told of something dark gripping the residents.

 

[violentfish]

Kohlstcc Vyrh

SCENE:

Welcome to Sparrow

LOCATION:

Town of Sparrow, Moibanza

DATE:

1403 Interregnum; Early Fall

WEATHER:

Warm but windy

THE ROAD TO SPARROW

A horse would have been a more comfortable mode of relocation, but a supply wagon will have to do. However, when being banished from the only place one can say they have ever been, comfort really is not much concern. Kohlstcc peered off into the wheat fields draping the road like curtains down the walls of a decorative celebration hall. The fields swayed and danced to and fro to the voice of a steady southern wind; a mild comfort for Kohlstcc. Although comfort is of little use to him at this point.

A replay of yesterday’s events, beg for explanation and nothing makes sense as far as he can fathom. Kohlstcc’s thoughts backtrack steadily;

“I woke for breakfast. Sat by the window and talked to the Dark for a bit, worked my day at the lumber yard, then Minnus and I took to our weekly spell at Shyly’s Tavern for some mead. Khedeya once again gave me a free stein. Hmm. Khedeya. Sweet, stout, firm…..”

Kohlstcc shakes his head briskly to get back on his train of thought. Khedeya is a bit of a distraction at times, though Kohlstcc was never equipped with the social skills capable of expressing emotion. No emotion. Stay separate.

“I remember some talk of a band of newcomers scouting the town with intentions on starting a new trade route, but they had no scribes or any business materials, lots of weapons though. Deep in the evening, when the watch tower bells began ringing, we knew that the Sceirge was being attacked. Minnus and I ran towards the ruckus. Swords were flailing, axes, arrows, everything chaos and madness. Like war had begun. Lildrek and Ogranshus were lying in their own blood. I felt a rage within my chest grow as the realization that my co-workers were dead set in. They hated me, but we’re Puttatonians!! My arms swirled in a precise circular then triangular motion and blackness overcame me. I felt the precision of my movements, like a memory. Then all went dark. I woke about five minutes later down on hands and knees staring into the blood-soak ground. The Town Council huddled before me, demanding I leave Puttaton immediately and never return. I was no longer welcome, never really was to begin with. Onlookers in disbelief, disgust, maybe relieved. Thirty-seven would-be robbers were dead. Not just dead, dismembered, some disintegrated. There is no possible way I am responsible. None.”

A few hard jostles in the well-driven road broke Kohlstcc’s memory replay and turned his eyes to the Eastern horizon. There is Sparrow. Kohlstcc had never ventured beyond Puttaton before. What will this be like? The peoples?

“What kind of work can I get into? I wonder…”

 

[Doctor Llamabean]

Celandréa Dianachti

SCENE:

Welcome to Sparrow

LOCATION:

Town of Sparrow, Moibanza - Hospitality Zone

TIME:

Afternoon—2:30 PM

WEATHER:

Sunny + Partly Cloudy; Windy—67°F

WELCOME TO SPARROW

She stood on the doorstep of The Bleak Sparrow Inn and let the wind make tangles of her hair. Shutting her eyes, she focused, breathing in through the nose… slow and deep. Her left hand rested on the pommel of her broadsword; she could feel its engraving under palm, the Dianachti Royal Insignia.

Six years… It had been six years since her exile from Orlanth. Since… No. Now was not the time for dwelling. Always dwelling. It had become a habit during her time on the road—What if I go back? What if I accept the proposal? What if we had won?

Her broadsword clinked as it shifted in its holdings—a metal chain hooked to her belt for the sword to slip through without hassle, simple as that—and Celandréa realized that in her rumination her resting grip had become a tightening hold, leaving a faint imprint of her family’s insignia right there on her palm.

She took the hand in her other and held it; ran her thumb over the imprint, admiring the curves and angles of its symmetry as a sense of longing pressed hard against her chest.

Then she felt it. In passing… something foul…

With blue eyes of piercing focus, Celandréa glared in the direction of the energy’s source. So faint she’d near missed its presence, but it was there… On the shoulder of a cart-lugging man, slouched as he moved and sluggish in his efforts, a strange creature small as a cat—it clung to him.

Displaying inhuman speed, Cela reached the man, plucking the thing from his shoulder before he could realize she was there. It had the appearance of a boiled fetus of about fifteen weeks, maybe less, with one eye at the center of its bulbous head. Beneath the eye was a slit that stretched wide, from one side of its head to the other; a mouth.

Celandréa let her cursed energy envelop the creature. It writhed weakly, making a sound not unlike the gurgling of mucus, flashing its jagged rows of razor-sharp teeth.

Then she crushed it.

“...Where are you.” The cursed spirit disintegrated before its body hit the ground, and Cela moved on, seeking to do what she’d come here to do in the first place… Exorcise curses.

 

[violentfish]

Kohlstcc Vyrh

SCENE:

Welcome to Sparrow

LOCATION:

Town of Sparrow, Moibanza

DATE:

1403 Interregnum; Early Fall

WEATHER:

Warm but windy

SPARROW

An incessant squeaking from the overloaded lumber chassis subsides as the caravan comes to a halt outside of the township of Sparrow. Kohlstcc leaps from his hitchhiker’s position so as not to interfere with the shipment inspection and unloading. That is not his task anymore. Actually, he has no job to focus on or assignments to occupy his idleness.

Sparrow looks as if it can provide some entertainment or a way to occupy time, at least a way to make sense of things. The neighing of horses and clamor of people milling about gives distraction to the pungent smell of birds. Kohlstcc moves into the township to get acquainted with the new surroundings. He’s a bit excited with this new adventure, his only adventure ever really. An ex-resident of Puttaton who, like all the others, never set foot beyond the city boundaries to explore the kingdom, now an explorer of Sparrow.

“Where to first?” Kohlstcc plots in his mind a way to get to a quiet place to think. To talk.

He takes notice of the citizens’ acceptance of his proximity to them. “They’re not avoiding me.”

Kohlstcc gives attention to almost every person, noticing particular features and behaviors. Most of these people are so different than what he is accustomed to. He peers to the signs above the shops looking for some hint of a tavern or pub. A place where he can sit and think alone. Talk alone. Kohlstcc spots a likely tavern and works his way to the entrance. A quickened pace to cross in front of this man pulling a cart, so as not to obstruct his path. An easy task given his hunched-over form, trudging along with the load.

The Dark stirs abruptly and curiously, quickly garnering Kohlstcc’s attention. It snaps its view toward the cart-puller momentarily then back.

“What?” Kohlstcc whispers quietly, not drawing attention from anyone near.

The Dark gives a rapid reply to Kohlstcc “I do not know. A small thing there then gone. And…something else I’ve never sensed before. I’m so curious.”

Kohlstcc scans the street’s occupants to identify anomalies. Nothing odd. A well-armed woman does appear out of place from the others, but nothing immediately threatening. Kohlstcc proceeds through the tavern door.

 

[violentfish]

Khedeya Draynan

SCENE:

Welcome to Sparrow

LOCATION:

Town of Puttaton, Moibanza

DATE:

1403 Interregnum; Early Fall

WEATHER:

Warm but windy

WELCOME TO SPARROW

Khedeya Draynan rose before the sun once again, prepared breakfast, then stepped out of the back door to fetch an armload of busted wood. A particular crinkle of the lips decorated her face as she observed the top of the pile has been knocked to the still-muddy ground.

“Aurgh!! That infernal goat!”

Khedeya takes pride in her efforts to keep her home efficient, but never boasts about it. The evidence of effort is enough. Just like the effort in the weapons she fashions or the armor she beats into beautiful form. The king has made many special requests from her father for armor and weapons through the years. Although she doubts the king is aware of the true smith responsible for the craftsmanship. It’s ok though. All that Khedeya cares about is her father’s prosperity and well-being. The sacrifice of her own recognition is an acceptable trade.
She collects enough wood in one arm to encumber the toughest man in Shyly’s and swiftly maneuvers to the furnace. Khedeya stokes the fire and tops it with fuel for the day’s work ahead.

“Two shields, two swords, aaaaannndd……what else? Ah! Gauntlets.”

Khedeya recites the order at hand as if to hasten the process. Steel working can take time even for the most experienced smith, but Khedeya learned young and fast. Her attention to quality is what puts her finished work above the others and in the king’s eye. Her father knows her work and lets her know his appreciation. Which is why he didn’t make an argument about her working at Shyly’s Tavern.

Shyly’s is known for its draw of out-of-towners and locals. The quality of mead and ale served is a product of Cimrian seed cultivation and Puttaton soil. A real kicker it is! Draynan doesn’t fear for his daughter’s safety rather the result of her response to a brash fool who would lay hands on her. Her temper is a dragon!

Khedeya: “Good morning father.”
Draynan: “Same, love.” Draynan lumbers to the table. “Hear about the mess at the Sceirge?”
Khedeya: “Nay I didn’t”
Draynan: “Was quite the mess. A band o’ looters tried to take the purse that cam’ in wit’ Sparrow scribes.”
Khedeya: “Really? How’d dat go?”
Draynan: “Seems Kohlstcc Vyrh stopt it rahr’ quick-like. Got him booted from Puttaton. Council got word he used somthin’ o’ magic or dah’ like. Left ‘bout mid-nite’”

Khedeya’s face turned expressionless like a red-hot piece of steel sinking into the vat to be cooled. Her stomach knotted up at what she soon realized was another loss in her life.

Khedeya: “No. But where to?”
Draynan: “I’m a bettin’ Sparrow. Lumber left short after da’ ruckus.”

Draynan watched his daughter’s focus change quickly at the news. He was aware of her fondness for Kohlstcc. Draynan was never selfish and always supportive of Khedeya’s decisions.

Draynan: “I can manage this place love. Go.”
Khedeya: “Father…”
Draynan: “Grab what ya’ need an’ go! This will all be ok here. I’ll get help from Minnus if I need it.”

Khedeya hugged her father like a bear, grabbed a shoulder satchel to stuff with what food she could carry. She rummaged through the house as if she never lived there.

Khedeya bellowed from the back room: “Should I take dah’ long sword or the short sword?”
Draynan with a nonchalant reply: “Axes love, always axes! Easier dah’ hide I say.”

Khedeya hugged her father again to reinforce her love and gratitude for his support. She grabbed the saddle with one hand and flung it over the horse’s back, quickly fastened it to the beast and lunged onto the horse. Khedeya ducked her torso down to clear the stable eaves. Once clear, the galloping of hooves and flinging sod in the direction of Sparrow were all that filled the morning air.

 

[Cracker]

Mao Zen

SCENE:

Welcome to Sparrow

LOCATION:

Town of Sparrow, Moibanza

DATE:

1403 Interregnum; Early Fall

WEATHER:

Warm but windy

WELCOME TO SPARROW

"You're on your feet from here, kid." The voice of an elderly man poured into Mao Zen's ears, washing away the imaginative scenery of his dreams, drowning him until he had regained full consciousness. He didn't realize he had fallen asleep.

Leaning over him, casting him into shadow, the old man that he'd hitched a ride from hours before was squinting at him with wrinkled eyes. A thin wheat plant was pinched between his lips.

"We've made it to Sparrow, as you requested." He said, gesturing to the town with his head. It lay about forty feet ahead of the dirt road that the caravan was resting beside. "I can only wonder why you'd want to travel there after I told you 'bout the curse that's been plaguing it as of recent, but aside, I ain't getting any closer."

Still disoriented, having just woke up, Mao Zen only managed a nod in reply. He had to shield his eyes from the bright sky as he stood to his feet. A chilly gust of wind ruffled his long, silk hair. Sparrow, like all other small towns in Moibanza that he'd been to thus far, appeared dull and uninteresting. Bland architecture, sweaty people, the depressing sight of the poor, etc. The most entertaining thing he'd come across--with cursed spirits aside--were the talkative drunkards found in every tavern.

With one foot in front of the other, he carefully stepped down from the caravan onto the road and tossed the old man a coin, a thanks for his time and for sharing his means of transport. Though, it partly confused him, considering that Mao Zen had first threatened his life for a ride. Nevertheless, he caught the coin and bid him farewell.

Mao Zen didn't waste any time, immediately commencing a brisk walk toward the town. He'd heard talk from the last town he was in that Sparrow had been experiencing some supernatural events. A couple residents apparently took their lives, spontaneously, without reason, without explanation. It was strange. More hearsay mentioned high amounts of cursed energy.

It didn't seem cursed, or even eerie. Not from here, anyway. As Zen drew closer, he caught a whiff of something strange but familiar. He paused. Looked around, brows furrowed.

That smell. . .

It couldn't be. Yet, there was no way it was anything else.

He'd recognize that scent from anywhere. It was definitely, undoubtedly, one-hundred percent, absolutely the unforgettable, mouthwatering, delicious aroma that belonged to none other than freshly baked Cimrian Dajales.

A softly baked bread, shaped into mini triangles, the center stuffed with a sour jam made from Tang Berries, and topped with a sprinkle of sugar. It was a Cimrian delight, and it was a part of the culture to eat one with every dinner. To stumble upon Dajales here in Moibanza was something Mao Zen could have only dreamed of.

A growl erupted from the depths of his stomach. His last meal consisted of some stale bread yesterday evening. Eager to eat, he darted into the town with no sense of direction, no specific destination, guided only by the scent that brought about nostalgic memories of home.

Where were those Dajales?

His incredibly sensitive olfactory system gave him the ability to sniff out anything with ease, and the Dajales seemed to trace back to a small stand beside an inn --The Bleak Sparrow, read a sign above the door.

 

[Devil Bean]

Restis Veer

SCENE:

Welcome to Sparrow

LOCATION:

Town of Sparrow, Moibanza

DATE:

1403 Interregnum; Early Fall

WEATHER:

Warm but windy

WELCOME TO SPARROW

A silent gentle breeze surges over Restis' face, causing the cold sweat on his brow to trickle down his cheek and into his beard.

"I ain't going no further Mister... Haven't you heard? Dark things 'ave been lingering in that town, heard peoples been killing 'imselves. Sparrow's 'bout four miles that-a-way."
Say, why ya' wanna come 'ere anyways?" The words of a peddler, that Restis hitched a ride with, ring in his ears along with his reply...

"To meet an old friend."

About an hour passed since he parted with the kind peddler and began making his way toward the town, and "something" has had him on edge ever since, the only sound heard his entire walk has been his own foot-steps. Not a single bird chirped, not a rustle of the bushes off the side of the road, and not even a sound of steady wind swaying the trees... How eerie.

After trudging another twenty minutes or so, finally, faint noises begin to come into earshot, then visibilty of Sparrow in the distance right after.
He continues on and begins walking through a seemingly residential area, but the people seem off-putting and very wary of outsiders currently. Must be due to all this talk of "darkness", lingering here at the moment, he quotes the peddler to himself... Restis pays no attention and makes his way to the hospitality section of Sparrow.

 

[Doctor Llamabean]

Celandréa Dianachti

SCENE:

Welcome to Sparrow

LOCATION:

Town of Sparrow, Moibanza - Moving

TIME:

Afternoon—2:30 - 2:40 PM

WEATHER:

Sunny + Partly Cloudy; Windy—67°F

SAVING SPARROW

Establishing her lodgings for a night had been Celandréa’s first priority upon arriving in Sparrow two suns ago. She rode in from the East, tossed the stable boy a proper silver tally to hold Promise during their stay, an extra few bronze’ies for the favor of brushing her coat, then took a personal tour of the town before concluding her day and treating herself to some well-needed rest at The Bleak Sparrow Inn.

The next morning, she broke her fast with a lucky pick at a fresh wheat loaf from the nice baker down the street. Nice, but something gripped him… Anxious. Afraid. Cela could sense it. Whether or not his kindness was genuine or the compulsory product of looming trepidation, she could not surmise, and so went about her day unto the next.

She’d nearly covered the whole town by now with questions; investigated what she could, but the people of Sparrow—all of them, not just the baker—they were fearful. There was scarce a significant detail to pluck from their nervous and dismissive utterances, none wishing to talk about the recent suicides for fear that they, too, would succumb to unwillful self-inflicted death.

Understandable, but Cela could not help these people if they wouldn’t let her.

— — —​

Before the cursed spirit hit the ground, it reduced to nothing, whisked away like ashes on the wind. Cela let her cursed energy flow evenly through her body once more; undetectable. No trace left behind, no residuals. She was trained and experienced, and from a family of Exorcists who expected nothing less from her than the peak before unattainable perfection.

Ah… That’s right. She often forgot… Had was the word to describe them now. These days, in fact, her family expected nothing from her at all... How could they?

The dead don’t ask for much.

Moving on from that, distracting thoughts better left at the back of her mind, Celandréa marched forward with her head high, perhaps higher than what could be considered natural as if to compensate for her overindulgence of self-pity this day. Towards the Market Quarter, leaving heavy footprints in her wake, she cast her gaze this way and that. Seeking… Sensing. There was darkness amidst, one greater than the leech she’d exorcised, but concealed… At times, when she thought she felt it, like icy twigs spidering up her spine, she would concentrate and it’d be gone.

Playing peek-a-boo, was it?

Low-grade curses were not likely to possess such cleverness and ability, so she ruled it must have been Mid-grade to, dare she say, High-grade?

As she walked, the passing of a man—black-haired and tall, donned in garbs not common in these parts of the world—he drew her attention, marked only by a quick glance, long enough to carve his frame in her memory before the scream ultimately captured her concern. The scream… It came from the direction of the Market Quarter.

Gritting her teeth, Cela whirled on the sound and lunged forth into a sprint; dirt kicked up behind her and people collapsed out of her unrestrained way.

 

[Doctor Llamabean]

. . .

SCENE:

Welcome to Sparrow

LOCATION:

Town of Sparrow, Moibanza

TIME:

Afternoon—2:30 - 2:35 PM

WEATHER:

Sunny + Partly Cloudy; Windy—67°F

THAT WHICH LURKS

A woman sits within the confines of her home.

You… It should have…

Alone, she weeps.

Been you…

Only her sorrows for company.

Why… her…?

Her jaw strains as screams escape her in raspy, breathless pleas. The woe a grip on her heart like the bear trap’s teeth a deer’s leg.

Not her… Should have been you…

Screams, but they are silent.

Anyone else…
​

 

[Devil Bean]

Restis Veer

SCENE:

An Old Friend

LOCATION:

Town of Sparrow, Moibanza

DATE:

1403 Interregnum; Early Fall

WEATHER:

Warm but windy

An Old Friend

Continuing his way through the town until coming to a halt and staring at an old run down Church that he would often visit with his mother when he was a boy. The building was quite sizable, with silk violet drapes covering the clear busted and boarded windows. Moss and black mold envelops the grey bricks of the outside wall. Restis makes his way up the stone steps toward the door and enters the dark cool room, his foot-steps echo all throughout...

"We aren't accept-"

The calm voice comes to a sudden stop and walks into a ray of light. A familiar young man with lengthy white hair and bright bluish eyes wears a bewildered look. "Restis?" The young man says with a surprised tone.

"Restis? What happened to you calling me Uncle, huh, Marius?" Restis speaks, a snarky grin creeps onto his face.

Very visibly cringing with embarrassment the young man clears his throat and says, "I was young a young orphan, we all called you uncle, we didn't know what else to call you by..."

"RESTIS?" A voice shrieks into Restis' ears from the end of the church corridor ever so suddenly.
Booming steps approach at a quick pace... A seemingly young lady comes into view with her mouth slightly gaped open and her eyes widened to the point you can see the entirety of her rose-pink iris. She composes herself and speaks in a soft tone "It's been a very long time..."

"You look the same as when I last saw you Vorelda."

"Yes, the Goddesses kindness keeps me young."

"Yes, sorcery works wonders on the skin ye' old crone, what are you 'bout sixty-four now?"

Vorelda lets out a quick snicker and rotates gently and- *WHACK* Voreldas fist hit Restis in the gut harder than an old fighting mule, dropping to one knee he lets out a slight gasp then a quick contained cough, his eyes held at a squint. Vorelda composes herself once again and walks back down the corridor, lighting all the candles on the windowsills. "You haven't been here in a long while. I thought you said you'd visit every now and then?"

"I got a little caught up... Marius is here, where are the rest of the youngins', d'ya kill 'em, sell them, eat them?" Vorelda scowls and rolls her eyes. "Vindus is most likely in training at this point in time. Maxen is most likely flirting up some poor unlucky lady. Felka is always at The Bleak Sparrow Tavern picking fights, the old drunken fool."

 

[Cracker]

Mao Zen

SCENE:

Welcome to Sparrow

LOCATION:

Town of Sparrow, Moibanza

TIME:

Afternoon--2:40-2:50 PM

WEATHER:

Warm but windy

The Dajale Tragedy

Mao Zen took note of the inn, etched the name of it--The Bleak Sparrow Inn--into his mind so as not to forget. Having a place to stay was always important, especially to travelers. The cold ground was never a comfy resort. Nor was sneaking into horse stalls where the stench of dung was as sickening as the prickly needles of hay were frustrating.

He'd sleep there tonight, as long as the cost isn't too greedy.

Back to the wooden stand where he was lured by the familiar scent of freshly baked Dajales, his stomach growling as if it could bare teeth, his eyes settled with intent. He sprung toward it eagerly, propelled by the anticipation of that savory, tangy bite with a hint of sweetness.

Sitting in a battered chair behind the stand was a middle-aged woman, clad in a beige dress, fastened tight to her waist by a blue corset that lay over the cloth. Mao Zen's nature to appreciate beauty never failed him. And she was very fair.

As he approached, however, she shook her head. At first, Mao Zen did not understand, but he continued until he was close enough to hear the heartbreaking words that spilled from her lips.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I just sold my last Dajale."

If anything could be more painful than losing a loved one, it would be this. In an instant, Mao Zen's joy and excitement drained from his body, seeped into the ground beneath his feet, and then bloomed upside down into the depths of hell, a new flower.

Trying to maintain his composure, even though he suddenly felt enough grief to strangle this woman as compensation for his suffering, whether it was her fault or not, he merely cleared his throat and nodded politely.

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't make sense if they didn't sell out quicker," he said, forcing a charming smile.

The woman chuckled, "Ain't that the truth. I tell ya', when I tried my first Dajale, I knew I was never going to live another day without one."

"Do you make them yourself?"

Pride laced her voice, "I cook up a fresh batch everyday in my own kitchen, then bring 'em out here for sell." She had tossed a thumb over her shoulder, as if gesturing to her home.

"Good, then there's hope I'll get to try one later."

"There sure is," she assured with an enthusiastic grin.

It was indeed a great tragedy that he would not yet savor the taste of a Cimrian dajale, but that didn't mean there weren't more delicious foods to try for now. Surely Moibanza has it's own cultural delights and dishes, something new and flavorful that would satisfy his hunger for now.

With a farewell to the beautiful lady, Mao Zen turned around and traced back a little bit. His incredible sense of smell led him to what appeared to be the marketplace. Stalls and stands lined either side of the street with persistent merchants vocally boasting their goods for sale. From fresh produce to butchered meat to finely and uniquely cooked, on-the-go meals, it seemed to have everything. His eyes sparkled and flickered back and forth to every stand, his mouth salivating as the various aromas of food overwhelmed his starved self.

But his venture further into the marketplace brought about something else that caught his attention. Something. . . cursed. He felt an unusual amount of cursed energy, a sensation in his gut that tingled, chills running up his spine, but it was only for a second. Then it was gone.

"Cursed spirit? Exciting. . . The idea of facing a possibly powerful spirit brought about a burst of thrill and exhilaration, momentarily taking his mind off of food. Nevertheless, he went straight back to ogling the many choices from which to eat.

The voices of passers-by grew chattier and louder. A crowd was gathering in the distance, at the far east of the marketplace. A brawl, perhaps? Maybe a preacher, or a crazed lunatic running around? What was suddenly so interesting to the people of Sparrow?

Mao Zen proceeded in that direction, curious, albeit keeping an eye out for something good to eat. Once he reached the crowd of people, he noticed a merchant to his left, a nosey-man trying to get a glimpse over the bobbing heads. He had a stand set up with multiple venison skewers on display for sale. They were still emitting steam having just been pulled from the fire. Two subtle steps to the left, Mao Zen played it off by blending in, pretending to try and see whatever it was. At the same time, he kept inching closer to the stand until he was right up on it.

Then, with a swift, practiced hand, he pinched a skewer, pulled it from the plate beneath it, and brought it to his right side, where the merchant couldn't and most likely wouldn't see it. Success. Immediately, he maneuvered his way into the crowd--just another curious fellow--playing innocent. A happy, devious grin stretched on his face. He brought the skewer to his mouth and devoured the whole thing in a few bites--aside from the stick that pierced the meat, of course. The tender meat was so soft and perfectly seasoned, he was tempted to go back for another. It took some mental discipline to convince himself that one would do for now.

Besides, apparently something far more interesting was happening. Shoving, pushing, slithering his way through, he finally reached the outskirts of the people. And indeed, it was a sight to see. . .

 

[Doctor Llamabean]

NPC POST

SCENE:

Welcome to Sparrow

LOCATION:

Town of Sparrow, Moibanza

TIME:

Afternoon—2:35 - 2:40 PM

WELCOME TO SPARROW

MOMENTS LEADING UP TO THE SCREAM​

He couldn’t explain it…

“Orm?... Love?” The sweet voice was lost on him, spoken tenderly with notes of concern. The look in his eyes told of a mind far away, red from lack of sleep, dark circles beneath them.

“Dearest, Orm?...” His wife paused her duty of hanging the clothes out to dry, a light wind tousling her hair, making a dance of her dress.

He had been distant of late. Quiet. Mood swings like the one now…

Just moments ago, they’d been reminiscing on last night’s burnt pheasant until Orm’s laughter abruptly ceased and a dazed mien became of him.

Anyone else…

He couldn’t understand it…

Should have been you… You… Anyone else…

Orm swayed and his wife quickly moved to his side. “Orm, my love, please speak to me… You’re worrying me.”

“Me…” he muttered.

“W-What?... What is it, dear?” His wife’s eyes went glassy with tears yet to fall.

Orm turned away from her then, disappearing into the house. “Should be me.” And, for a moment, his wife stood still… watching as the door replaced her view of him.

She didn’t want to suspect. A fear got into her, solidifying her to that spot. Unable to move.

He didn’t know why…

Life had always been good to him.

So, he couldn’t tell you why…

Why he put that knife to his throat… he would never know.

Electricity rushed through her—frozen chains breaking beneath the steel of a sword—and her legs carried her, fast as they could into the house. Tripping over her dress, she met hard with the ground, felt the wood abrade her cheek, and she cried out, “ORM! PLEASE, GODS, NO! ORM!”

She fumbled forward on her hands and knees, crawling around the corner, finding the kitchen and…

A gasp before silence. Then...

​

 

[violentfish]

Khedeya Draynan

SCENE:

Welcome to Sparrow

LOCATION:

Road Between Puttaton and Sparrow

TIME:

About Noon Day

WEATHER:

Warm but windy

A Warning

A hurried pace to break the bonds of Puttaton now reduced to a tolerable walk, gives way to thought. Solitude has never been accused of not being a breeding ground of fantastic ideas and lonesome conversation. Khedeya’s current location is none other than ‘solitude’. As much of a companion as a steed can be, their propensity to exchange dialogue is null. However, many an equestrian ear has been the recipient of a rider's thoughts.

“Anvil, what ah' we doin’? We leff’ Puttaton and I got tah' say, I feel uhmaazin’!!

Anvil flickers his ears at the annoyance of flies and wobbles his head as if to acknowledge this atypical adventure. Puttatonians just do not leave their town, it’s rare. Although two in the span of twelve hours must be some sort of record. But to be near Kohlstcc, Khedeya decided long ago, borders were paltry hurdles to overcome.

Khedeya approached a small convoy of mountain folk stopped by the road. Smoke withered itself up through the trees carrying the aroma of fresh rabbit and quail. Two rough-looking individuals stepped into the road upon hearing the approaching rider. Harmless looking, but intent is seldom proclaimed on a banner.

Khedeya wisely stopped short of the men to parlay, a firm grip on one of her axes.

Kheydeya: “Ya’ need help?”

Traveler: “Nay. Just curious to see who would be headin’ the way of the cursed Sparrow.”

Kheydeya: “Cursed? How so?”

Traveler: “Not sure, but folks be takin’ their lives selfishly, or by persuasion perhaps. Either way, a self-inflicted death is no good for us, so we’re headin’ West.”

Bathed in concern and washed with curiosity, Khedeya keeps her emotions and thoughts concealed.“Sounds like fire-side phantom tales. Keep yer’ yarns for knittin’ I gots travels. Take care. ”

A snap of the heels puts Anvil into motion.

Traveler: “Don’t go testin’ ropes, necks ne’er win.”

Beyond the traveler’s sight, a tad swifter pace is more telling of Khedeya’s disposition.

Still expecting a reply from the beast, Khedeya advises a bit more urgency. “Only half a day Anvil. No sun settin’ on us till Sparrow ya’ hear?”

 

[Devil Bean]

Restis Veer

SCENE:

Reminiscent

LOCATION:

Town of Sparrow, Moibanza

DATE:

1403 Interregnum; Early Fall

WEATHER:

Warm but windy

Reminiscent

"Bleak Sparrow, eh? I haven't had a drink there since I was stationed 'ere in 78'. Is Kantus still running that old place?"

"Always has, an' always will. Now go on and scram, I shouldn't hafta see yer ugly mug any longer ya' old coot." Vorelda jests, leaning against a column and tilting her head down toward the floor, her silk-like white hair falling off her ear to the side of her cheek, attempting to hide her bittersweet smirk.

Restis sneers and makes a quick turn out the church door, leaping down off the rail-less edge of the steps and on to the packed dirt road, maintaining long swift strides toward his long-awaited destination.

He shades his eyes with his hand to help gaze at the magnificent cloud-painted blue sky for a moment, his squinted wrinkly eyes widened thinking on all the time he's wasted just looking up at it. A bit of melancholic nostalgia rushes over him, his smile fading momentarily then returning slighter than before.

He erupts in a sudden, deep, hearty laugh and exclaims- "Hahah! A pitiful old man reminiscing!"

 

[violentfish]

Kohlstcc Vyrh

SCENE:

Welcome to Sparrow

LOCATION:

Town of Sparrow, Moibanza

TIME:

2:50pm to 3:00pm

WEATHER:

Warm but windy

SPARROW

Taverns are an essential establishment in any township. A delightful evening often succumbs to the asphyxiating companionship of silence. Suffocation by thought has been the way of torture for Kohlstcc many a night. When one can evade the tortures of having life for a few hours, a moment of peace can be joyous. Our minds tend to disagree with peace and attack at the first moment of silence, questioning us to know why, how, when, why not? The subject is no matter. Unless it’s those questions that bring us closer to….

Lunder the Barkeep: ”Aye!!! You’re blocking the door! Get outta’ the man’s way!!”

Kohlstcc lost in thought was unobservant of the individual behind him waiting to enter the Bleak Sparrow. ”Beg pardon. Lost my mind for at bit.”

Patron: ”Don’t lose yer’ head yet. Enough o’ that goin’ around. Another one gone Lunder.”

Lunder the Barkeep: ”To the Gods. How many now? Eight? Nine? When will it end?”

Kohlstcc gives way to another patron and shimmies up to the bar. ”Mead if ya’ got it please.”

Lunder the Barkeep: ”Aye. Ten bronzies.”

Kohlstcc with his hand already fishing for coin, scouts the room for a place to nestle. ”Can I sit by the fireplace? I’d like to have me mead and try this Dajale. Heard they quite good.”

Lunder the Barkeep: ”If ain’t no boots takin’ the seat, help ya’self. Enjoy the Dajale, had one just a moment ago myself.”

A few steps relocated Kohlstcc to a comfortable position between the bar and fireplace. Warm, good view of the whole room, wall to his back, and no one near by.

“Strange talk they have here.” Whispers the Dark to Kohlstcc as if tuned into the inner workings of his mind and thoughts. “Did you hear the scream?”

Murmuring just before a good swig of mead. ”I did not. That’s why I keep you around." Kohlstcc chugs a good portion of the stein and strategically places it next to his warm Dajale. ”How about telling me what happened in Puttaton. I remember nothing before waking up amidst thirty-seven dead bandits. Find me an answer to that.”

Kohlstcc studies his hands as if an interrogation ensued and the culprits writhed in obvious guilt. Another swig is closer to the next mug.

”Khedeya was better company. Stuck with you I guess."

 

[Devil Bean]

Felka Mehret

SCENE:

One more drink

LOCATION:

Town of Sparrow, Moibanza

DATE:

1403 Interregnum; Early Fall

WEATHER:

Warm but windy

One more drink

"Now! Lisshen here ol' Lund, I 'ave be- *belches*... I've been comin' to this here taveern for twenty somtin' years now and ne'er and I mean NEEEVER, lost'a fight. You b'lieve at?"

Felka exclaims drunkenly, closing her eyes and swaying back and forth on the barrel she's sat on. She giggles, does a little spin, leaning back and tilting the barrel with her each and every way then falling to the floor flat onto her back. She mutters incoherent nonsense to herself, often shouting a random word or phrase here and there.

"Carriage-gators!"

Felka shrieks, drifts back off into a drunken slumber and rolls on to her side, quickly snatching and hugging the barrel tight to her chest, her legs and arms wrapped around it so tight you'd have to use a crowbar to get her off.

The patrons go on and about not even blinking an eye at this drunken slob of a person. Lunder then sighs, throws a small cloth over his shoulder and pours another drink, sets it on the counter in front of where she sat then resumes cleaning mugs and plates, not a word spoken...

Her face smushed up against the barrel with her mouth wide-open, a splinter just sticking out from under the iron ring that holds the barrel together, poking her cheek, her snores bare similarity to a wild warthog. She halts her snores every now and then to wiggle her nose, only to go back to a snoring even louder with each stop.

Her snoring stops abruptly... The patrons all peer over at the drunk, they all flinch as she jolts up into a seated cross-legged position on the floor, she reaches up towards the counter to grab the drink that Lunder so conveniently prepared.

"Keep 'em coming Lunder, I ain't drunk enough."