Active [NanPass Village]Whispers in the Mist

[Moonberry]

Nan Pass Village
Republic of Kuridan – 3rd Month, Early Morning
Snow falls lightly, vanishing into the steaming breath of chimneys.

✧༝┉˚*❋ Whispers in the Mist ❋*˚┉༝✧​

The snow whispered against the thatched roofs of Nan Pass Village, soft and constant like a lullaby the mountain never stopped singing. Lanterns swung gently from wooden eaves, their golden glow barely reaching beyond the drifting mist. Somewhere, a bell chimed the hour—low and reverent, its tone swallowed quickly by the hush of falling snow.

Though the village was quiet, it was not at peace.

Tucked against the edge of Nan Pass, the village had always been known as a small mining outpost, a place where stone and ore were coaxed from the mountain’s bones. The mines had run for generations, cut deep into the foothills of the Paizu Mountains, and though the work was hard, the people endured—proud and resilient.

Now, the pickaxes rang less often. The forges cooled sooner. And the silence in the snow grew heavier by the day.

Beastkin villagers, cloaked in layered kimono, moved through the narrow, sloped streets with downcast eyes and quickened steps. A mother tugged her child away from the edge of the shrine path, muttering blessings to the mountain spirits. A snow harekin merchant packed his stall early. No one spoke too loudly—as though afraid something in the mist might hear them.

Outside the teahouse and message hall, a parchment fluttered softly in the breeze:

“Assistance requested.
Dangerous unrest in the upper ranges.
Aid needed to investigate the Yukijin.”
Signed: Genta Moriyama, Village Headman

Inside, the scent of roasted barley and pine ash mingled in the warm air of the teahouse. A kettle hissed softly over the hearth, its steam curling in the dim morning light. At a low wooden table near the window, Hoshime, the one-eyed foxkin elder, poured tea with deliberate care.

Across from her sat Genta Moriyama, shoulders tense beneath his winter coat, a half-finished cup cradled in his hands.

“They haven’t come,” he said, voice low, roughened by worry. “It’s been days.”

“They’ll come,” Hoshime replied, calm as ever. “They always do. Sooner or later.”

Genta shook his head, staring into the steam.
“The Yukijin are moving closer. We’ve seen them near the ridge trail. They don’t attack, but they watch. Quiet. Still. Like they’re waiting for something.”

“They’ve always watched,” Hoshime murmured, sipping her tea. “The difference is, now we’re afraid to look back.”

Genta’s brow furrowed.
“And the Belmonte homestead… torn apart. Tools shattered. Garden destroyed. No sign of animals—just cold ash and silence.”

Hoshime’s tail flicked, thoughtful.
“It wasn’t the Yukijin.”

“No. It wasn’t.” Genta leaned forward, eyes hard. “But the village thinks it was. And that boy—Kenta’s youngest—came back bloodied. Deep gashes across his side.”

“Blades,” Hoshime said quietly. “Not claws.”

He nodded.
“Too clean. Too precise.”

They sat in silence a moment, the crackle of the hearth the only sound between them.

“The Yukijin have lived in those mountains for generations,” Hoshime said at last. “They didn’t change. Something changed around them.”

Genta exhaled through his nose, the weight of responsibility bowing his shoulders.
“Then I hope whoever answers that call knows how to listen… before they draw a sword.”

Outside, the snow continued to fall.
And somewhere, beyond the curve of the pass,
the mountain waited.

 

[Mephisto]

---

Somewhere, the red dream waits in the dark.

But not here.​

---

Villages were often quaint and quiet, offering basic necessities and the means to create solutions to the rest of life's myriad problems. Food and water came by easily enough. Hospitality, medical care, music... and love. Those took time, but they were easy to find in a place such as this.

Nestled snugly into the embrace of the nearby mountain, Nan Pass Village enjoyed a rare symbiosis with nature. Its beastkin residents rested under handmade roofs, greeting the day with honest labor and the joy of being alive.

The slight underhue of melancholy stained their faces, however. Precious blue and pink saturation amidst the deep white could only hide the misery for so long. It was here that Mephisto interjected himself. A stark contrast with his red and black palette, he valued neither the word or even the existence of any adventurer's guild that would have otherwise sent him so far this direction.

Instead, he merely followed his nose and the inclination to learn.

He walked through the brass gate to the main street and instinctively began to peruse the street food vendors, investigating local kitchens and absorbing their expertise by watching, engaging in humble conversation, and wishing those chefs and their customers good luck.

He didn't need much. Eventually, the very notion of the village being in danger at all caught his attention. He would tilt his head along its central axis, thumbing his way across the face of bulletin boards posted along the entrance to inns and restaurants he found himself passing along the way to nowhere in particular.

It was a generalized plea for help, summarizing what the fae thing could only assume was months - perhaps more - of internalized suffering.

He gently unpinned one of the fliers and folded it neatly into his coat pocket, adjusting the finer parts of his pinstripe suit as he whisked his hand through the air.

A thin line of strange shadows extended from his fingertips, ending in a subtle glow. He inhaled from the cigarette that both existed and could fade into nothingness all at once. It was a simple gesture of his [Darkness Magic], a false thing that nevertheless filled his lungs with a calming warmth on a cold morning such as this.

He followed the path leading up to the teahouse of the person responsible for sending out the message in the first place.

"Genta Moriyama," Mephisto hummed, clicking his fingers to send the cigarette away.

As he passed a small clearing, he stopped.

He turned without saying a word.

It was a shrine to a goddess he didn't recognize. She had her eyes closed, her snout turned down in silent meditation. Her many tails folded behind her. An inscription he could not read was etched into the pedestal supporting the statue.

He approached it but did not pray.

He said nothing and merely began scratching away at the morning moss that clung to the finer details. He turned and left without offering anything.

Before long, he finally stood under the canopy of the teahouse. He opened the door, lowering his head as he entered, and unfolded the notice for help as he smiled towards the staff member up front.

"I'm here about the job. My name is Mephisto,"

 

[Rev IX]

V-CXI
​

Having finished his self-imposed business in Rotia, V decided to hit the road again. The Talbotean made his way east. He traveled, and traveled, Eventually, he found himself in Kuridan. Where he noticed a sign posted by the local adventurer's guild. Currently, he wanted to continue polishing his fighting prowess. The knowledge had come back, but the 'muscle' memory continued dormant. So he was avoiding even moderately risky jobs, at least until he could hold his own.

But something of the sign caught his attention.

"Belmonte..."

If memory banks served right, that was the name Griffin and the others tried on Hikari. A coincidence? Mysterious circumstances? It was odd enough to stand out to him. Maybe it was time to take a risk. Standing and walking around certainly wouldn't do much for him, after all.

Having arrived at the place the note detailed, it didn't take long for him to notice the underlying misery, or maybe resignation? Fear? Nevertheless, the populace was clearly struggling. The circumstances detailed in the notice he picked up being the culprit. Unable to take a sharp breath of the fresh, cold air to sharpen his focus. He quietly headed for the local teahouse, having asked here and there where to find Genta.

An odd looking fellow was making his way in around the same time as V. He stood out like a sore thumb. Clearly as big of an outsider as himself. Likely here for the same reason as him, possibly barring the curiosity for the Belmonte name from their similar goals. He announced his presence to the first person they saw in the building. "So ⠁⠍ I", the rook spoke, stealing a discreet glance at the paper this Mephisto person held. Very much like the one he held.

 

[Gwen_Temi]

Helena Rugerd
​

The howling wind and slosh of boots sinking deep in the snow were the only things that Helena had heard for some time. She glanced down at the notice in her hands every now and again as if the details written upon it, or her memory of them, would shift at any moment.

"Experienced adventurers. I suppose I do have one on my resume."

There wasn't much in Nan's Pass that drew the novice summoner here. Not the job, in and of itself. Not the people. Certainly not the cruel blanket of eternal snow. The guild offered transportation up to this point. And the famed Belmontes were known to live here. Or, more specifically, a Mr. Thaddeus Belmonte and his library of alchemical and arcane texts. In her endless pursuit of knowledge, she would take on this quest to Nan's Pass. The bit of money that she'd earn for getting the job done was a boon in-and-of itself.

But, before she got back on that wagon and made her way back down from this mountain, she was going to have herself a look through that library for anything that could help open the doorway to finding the real Helena.

Helena, our Helena, barely realized that she'd arrived in the village when she did. Place was quiet like that. The people were distant and skittish. She contemplated asking a few for directions, only to be shot down by averted eyes before she even had the time to utter a single word. Eventually she'd commit to it if she couldn't find the place by herself. But Genta Moriyama was kind enough to leave a notice on his door. And, before she could even finish reading it, she heard someone within say his name.

She opened the door, stepped inside, and caught sight of the two men who'd just wandered in before her. Two non-beastkin who stuck out amongst the crowd as much as she did.

"Right, then. I take it we're all here for the Yukijin job, yes?"

 

[Tellussoil]

Noelle Nichi
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With: Helena Gwen_Temi | V-CXI Rev IX | Genta & Hoshime Moonberry

abilities:
-
Language: "Common" ~ <"Beastial"> ~ {"Sylvan"} ~ "thoughts"
​

Spoiler: TLDR

​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

The road of the traveler was long and seldom easy. It had been a good few ten days since Noelle left the See for the place she wanted to visit: Nan Pass, the home of her friend Aedrianna Belmonte.
The mermaid was swaying a bit as she approached the town gates. Her face showed a pale, tired complexion. She was not feeling so well. Nauseated ever since she was done with her last job. At first, she didn't think much of it. Probably ate something wrong. But the sickness persisted. Another reason she wanted to find Aedrianna. She most likely has something to alleviate this damn nausea!

Noelle walked to the Belmonte homestead. But when she arrived there, she saw it had seen better days. She walked to the front door and noticed it was busted open. She pushed open the door and looked inside. The inside was just as roughed up as the outside. The whole place was torn down. Things scattered everywhere <"Hello? Anyone here? Aedri?"> Noelle called out. She waited a moment to see if someone reacted, but was met with silence. It was clear that Aedrianna wasn't here, nor has been recently.

Suddenly, Noelle put her hands over her mouth as she got hit by a wave of nausea. She tried hard to hold it back, but sadly failed. "BLERGH!!" emptied the contents of her stomach over the floor. Not that it was much. She hasn't been able to hold much food long with the nausea before she would throw it up again.
Shivering, Noelle wiped her mouth. It was best she should find somewhere to recover for the moment rather than continue her search of the shop. Noelle left the homestead and headed to some place warm where she could maybe get something to eat.

After a bit of a walk, she stumbled upon the tea house. A good place to stop for the moment. They had good drinks, some food and maybe someone in there might have information about Aedrianna. Or at least a general idea of what she was doing. Before Noelle entered the tea house, she noticed the paper attached next to the door. <"A guild job? To investigate some people higher up the mountain"> She mumbled. Although her main reason for coming to Nan Pass was to find her friend. But if the people here were in trouble, who was she not to offer that help? It was the least she could do for the place her friend calls home.
Noelle opened the door and walked inside. She instantaneously felt the nausea boil up due to the smells inside. But she was able to hold it back before worse could happen. <"g-good day. My name is Noelle Nishi. I wish to help with the request you have posted outside,"> Noelle said politely bowing <"Also, I am looking for a friend.> Aedrianna Belmonte. < Do you know if she has been here lately?">

 

[Slowpokie]

C. Davour - †

“Brrh… this damn cold.” Carmel moaned to himself, the cold air of Nan Pass Village not at all a good fit for someone used to humid places. First he had to deal with an endless downpour, now he was stuck in an endless winter!

“I'd crawl inside the skin of a bear if I meant I could feel a little warmth ugh, damn me and my poor choices!” Carmel lamented with a bit more volume, regretting his choice in looking cute to being practical for the journey ahead of him.

He wandered through the village, led along this winding path to the mountains by curiosity and the whispers of something dear to his heart. The people here were so frightened by something, the village was plagued with fears of a darker force… it felt almost like home. It was comforting in a way. But the snow was not appreciated.

Like many before him, although he did not once interact with them, Carmel discovered a job offer tacked outside the teahouse. He gave it a quick read over, humming in thought. “Dangerous unrest, hm..? Sounds like a good place for good bones indeed!” Said the novice pyromancer to himself, immediately sliding inside the teahouse for warmth.

Carmel sighed with great delight, feeling the blood return to his fingers and toes. Adjusting his hat, he made his way up the stairs with a bit more pep in his step, entering the room that felt almost crowded with how many were already there. “Hellooooo-” he said first, then paused mid-sentence, looking around at the others who had introduced themselves. “My, this is a group…"

 

[Gaius Danius Griinia]

Rios
Mentions: Tellussoil Gwen_Temi Moonberry


A gloved hand reached out to catch a handful of snowflakes as numerous flakes of white cascaded from the heavens to make up the piles of snow that dotted the landscape of the sleepy mining town of Naan Pass. Rios kept his hood up to prevent his face from being exposed to the elements. This was his second time here and Naan Pass held a very significant memory for him. Although he could feel the could through his glove. It couldn't freeze the warmth that he so clearly remembered being there once. He'd heard from Griffin and a few of his contacts through the mercenary guilds that a certain girl had seemingly vanished overnight in this town. Rios had been searching for this girl whenever he had a spare moment from work. Yet for all his efforts, he had turned up nothing substantial. So all he could do was take a job tangentially related to the Belmonte Family in hopes of tracking down the one he searched for, Aedrianne Belmonte. A rather ineffectual adventurer, with a knowledge of alchemical plants and no combat skills to speak of. The first meeting of the pair had been during Rios's first brush with death against the bug army during the war. After that, they met again here in this town. Here amidst this cold where Aedrianna had openly accepted Rios for who he was with warmth he'd never seen or felt before.

Arriving at the location designated by the quest notice. Rios entered the establishment and sat down near the client. "I'm here about the quest. Tell me everything you're certain about" stated the cyan haired swordsman. He wasn't looking for things they were guessing or maybe-ing on. Certainty was always good for establishing the foundations of a plan. Turning his head to look at the others. He could tell a rather eclectic lot had accepted this quest to investigate the Yukijin and their possible raiding of the Belmonte Homestead. Rios could swear he'd seen the fish girl somewhere but couldn't tell where from. The witch girl smelled like Tonkis but whether that was from direct interaction or the caprine beast had tried to eat her was up in the air. Whipping his head around to a kimono clad beastkin waitress who was waiting for his order. Rios handed her a small sack of coin and asked for two persons worth of food.

 

[Moonberry]

Ooc

Language: <"Beastial"> "Common" I ask that folk try to pay attention to what languages your character can and can't understand.
Mentions: Gwen_Temi Gaius Danius Griinia Tellussoil Slowpokie Rev IX
If your characters have any goals for this roleplay please mention them in your next post with an Ooc note. As well as a link to your characters sheet please and thank you! The general goal of the roleplay will be to find out why the Yukijin are acting strangely. As well as who or what is responsoble for trashing the Belmonte Shop.

The warmth of the teahouse stood in stark contrast to the cold creeping in through the seams of the door. One after another, travelers had stepped inside—drawn from far and wide by the same parchment pinned outside.

Now the room was full.

The air buzzed softly with shifting coats, melting snow, and the gentle clink of porcelain. The scent of roasted barley and sweet rice flour hung in the air, joined now by the earthy musk of travel and the metallic edge of anticipation.

Hoshime, the one-eyed foxkin matron of the teahouse, moved with the practiced grace of someone long accustomed to hosting strangers and stormclouds alike. Her silver tail swayed gently behind her kimono as she ushered the group further in, her ears flicking subtly as she took in accents, weight of footfalls, and the way each guest carried themselves.

“Come in, come in,” she hummed, “Off with your snow. Sit, warm yourselves.”

To the one in the sharp red and black, Mephisto, she raised a curious brow—recognizing nothing, yet clocking everything.

To V, quiet and measuring, she gave a slow nod—ears angling toward him as if picking up a rhythm he hadn’t voiced yet.

To Helena, who had paused in study at the doorway, Hoshime offered a steaming cup with a knowing look and a quiet “Careful with that one. Has teeth in its sweetness.”

And then came Noelle. Pale and weary, but polite and steady despite her nausea. When she bowed and spoke in Beastial, Hoshime’s eye lit faintly with surprise and then softened. Her ears perked up, then turned slightly back in quiet memory.

She stepped closer and placed a hand lightly on Noelle’s shoulder.

<“You look like you need some rest dear....”> Her voice dropped into Beastial, gentle and wistful. <“Aedrianna… she went north. Took her father’s place to aid in the war effort against the bugs. Brave thing. She hasn’t returned.”>

Hoshime’s tail flicked slowly behind her.
<“I’ve heard nothing since. But her name still rests on many hearts here.”>

To Carmel, who blew in like a windstorm of color and complaint, she handed a hot cup with an amused glint in her eye.

“Not bear fur, but it’ll warm your blood just the same.”

And when one of the guests handed off a small sack of coin, she intercepted it with a faint, amused huff and turned toward the kitchen herself.

Moments later, she returned with two full servings of food—rice, grilled mountain ayu, miso stew—sliding them before the one who'd placed the order. With one hand she nudged the bowl forward, and with the other, gently patted the crown of his head.

“Eat, dear. No good ever comes from facing spirits on an empty stomach.”

At the center table, Genta Moriyama finally stood. His broad frame and thick white-and-silver tail gave him the aura of a seasoned wolf elder, though his posture bore the weight of troubled sleep. His ears tilted slightly forward—attentive, wary.

He bowed respectfully to those gathered.

“Welcome,” he said evenly. “I am Genta Moriyama, headman of Nan Pass Village. And I thank you for coming.”

His eyes scanned the room—his gaze lingering for a breath on each face, registering weapons, scars, youth, curiosity.

“Nan Pass has endured through snows and storms, stonefall and famine. We are a mining village. Old and proud. Our people are hardy, our walls are humble—but we have always stood.”

His tail gave a small twitch.

“And for some time, we have lived in quiet alongside the Yukijin.” He paused here, carefully choosing his words. “They are not monsters. They are mountain folk. Great beasts, yes—but peaceful. They traded with the Belmontes. Trusted them.”

He folded his hands behind his back, his ears angling slightly downward now.

“But the Belmontes are gone. Their home, Benevolent Brews, was found destroyed— Garden and store torn apart. And there were no witnesses.”

He let the quiet stretch for a breath.

“Since then… the Yukijin have changed. They’ve drawn closer. Stalked the tree lines. Broken tools. Shattered traps. And then…” His voice dipped. “Kenta’s boy went into the woods. Came back with three clean wounds. Deep. Too clean for claws.”

Another hush settled. The hearth crackled softly.

“A month ago, two children went missing. No sign. No sound. Fear spread faster than frost.”

Hoshime let out a sharp tsk behind him.

“The Yukijin don’t steal children,” she snapped gently. “They’ve got enough mouths of their own. This reeks of meddling.” Her tail lashed once, then stilled.

Genta nodded slowly.

“I don’t believe it was them either. But fear makes fools of good folk. We’ve already had hunters whisper of arming themselves.”

He looked again to the group, ears lifting upright once more.

“I am asking you to investigate the reasoning behind the sudden change in the Yukijins behavior...”

A beat passed. Then, quietly:

“And find out what happened to the Belmonte shop. If someone is stirring hatred between us and the mountain... we must root them out before this becomes bloodshed.”

Outside, the wind howled softly against the wood frames.
Inside, tea steamed in the cups.
And the hearth burned on.

 

[Slowpokie]

C. Davour - †

Humbly taking the tea with a small 'thank you', Carmel drank in the fragrant fluid, humming in delight. It was warm, it was fine on the tongue - just what the pyromancer needed.

He hummed to himself as Genta explained the job in further detail, mulling ideas over in his head. People missing, homes broken and abandoned without a reason, and children missing. It was an ominous mystery enticing investigation.

“How bleak,” Carmel said dimly with a hand over his chest, offering some sympathy as he continued drinking his tea. “Taken without an inkling as to who by. Sad way to go... Ooh, maybe they were eaten? Given the state of the environment here. I'd want something warm and hearty to fill the cold too.”

He then drank from his teacup, his voice more lighthearted in contrast to his macabre suggestion. “Some folk taste like pork I hear, though I can't confirm that yet. But beacon would be great right now.” Carmel hummed out in thought as he finished his beverage , placing the empty saucer beside himself. “Lovely tea, by the way. I'll be sure to leave a tip after.”