• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Community ︶꒦꒷Oct2024 Haunted Festival꒷꒦︶

Moonberry

Moonberry

Bitter and Sweet, do not eat.
Supporter
Roleplay Type(s)
718108a1-3506-46b4-9db1-b5bb17deb327.webp


The Valenwood estate loomed over the mist-shrouded hills, its ancient stone towers casting long shadows across the sprawling courtyard. Despite the manor’s foreboding presence, the air was alive with the sounds of revelry. The Fall Festival had brought together guests from every corner of the land, a mix of nobles, scholars, and adventurers drawn by the promise of celebration—and intrigue.

Lord Alistair Valenwood, the young host, had invited an unusual assortment of guests to his ancestral home. The guests were ushered into the grand courtyard of the Valenwood estate, where the glow of lanterns illuminated the old stone walls and flickered in the crisp autumn air. Everyone was allowed to mingle about and enjoy themselves. There was complimentary food in some of the stalls, as well as even a few games. As some of the guests could be seen enjoying themselves in the revelry. One such man being a suave looking man with roguish charm. He was sure to let everyone within earshot know his name. Which was Ronan Driscoll. He laughed loudly and showed his strength off with the confidence of a man who could back up what he said. Or at least thought he could. An adventurer and treasure hunter extraordinaire.

It was easy for the man to be the center of attention. But the host of the event was his own enigma. He stood on the steps of the grand front doors of the estate, holding a chalice of wine. Beside him stood a matronly figure. With sharp features and a sharper gaze. She too stood on the steps, though she did not sip on any chalice. A tight smile stretched across her thin lips. The two seemed to be locked in a quiet discussion. Alistair shaking his head ever so slightly and gesturing towards the large mechanism that had been placed upon a dais.

"Aunt Aurellia please. Try to enjoy the festival and everything this discovery will bring." He spoke without looking at her. Instead continuing to smile and nod to any who passed by. She spared him only a glance, before turning her tight-lipped smile towards a couple walking passed. Waving to them dutifully.

"If you understood the weight of what you've uncovered, you wouldn't be making a spectacle of yourself. History is bound to repeat itself. And I would rather it wasn't my sisters spawn that she left to me. There are bigger things at play than some possible investors." She spoke quietly and evenly. A sense of warning in her words. The young lord scoffed and lifted his chalice into the air. He lifted his voice with confidence addressing the small group with a bright smile.

“The Valenwood family has always been on the cutting edge of innovation,” he began enthusiastically, his eyes gleaming. “This crystal technology—my ancestor’s greatest discovery—will change the way we think about energy, about magic itself! I'd like to welcome you all to the Valenwood Estates Autumn Festival. Enjoy the food and try your luck with the games. We've even brought in a fortune teller!" He paused to gesture towards a tent that was off int he distance. A figure darting back under the flaps quickly. Enjoy yourselves tonight. Remember there are eight nights of our festival. Accommodations are available for all of our guests to sleep." He smiled over to his aunt. "As is tradition. Isn't that right Aunt Aurellia?"

Lady Aurelia Valenwood gave a tight smile, her hands resting gracefully on her cane. “Of course, Alistair. It is tradition, after all,” she replies, her tone polite but distant. "I simply wonder if you know the depth of what you're stepping into."

“Don’t worry, Aunt,” Alistair says, his smile faltering only slightly. “Everything is under control."

The adventurer with a roguish grin sidled up to Alistair and clapped him on the shoulder with the familiarity of an old friend.

“Now, Alistair,” Ronan Driscoll said with a laugh, “don’t let your aunt scare you off your own dreams. You’ve got something great here! Who knows, maybe this little festival of yours will make history.”

Alistair chuckles, clearly more at ease with Ronan. “Thanks, Ronan. Coming from you, that means a lot.”

“Of course it does,” Ronan grinned, taking a swig from his flask. “Though I’ll tell you, history isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes the best treasures are the ones that get left behind.” His eyes twinkle with mischief as he speaks, and it’s clear he’s not just talking about crystals. Ronan winks at a group of younger guests as he saunters off toward one of the vendor stalls, clearly enjoying the attention. Alistair shook his head with a soft chuckle as Ronan disappeared into the crowd, always the entertainer, always the thrill-seeker. Lady Aurelia, however, merely raised an eyebrow at the adventurer’s antics, her grip tightening on the head of her cane.

"Of all the people to befriend, you chose that braggart?" she murmured to Alistair, her voice laced with thinly veiled disdain.

Alistair smiled, though his eyes darted away. "Ronan's harmless," he replied with a shrug. "Besides, he keeps the mood light."

"Light..." Lady Aurelia repeated quietly, glancing toward the ominous crystal machine. "I fear the mood will darken soon enough."

As the music and laughter echoed across the courtyard,A man wearing large spectacles and a tweed jacket approached the crystal mechanism, his expression one of deep concentration. He ran a hand over his thinning hair and adjusted his spectacles before leaning closer to inspect the intricate design. His muttering could barely be heard above the festive noise, but it was clear the professor was not here for the merriment.
8d669d85-1ae9-494d-ba15-3ce787b323e8.webp

"This device... it's fascinating, but...hmm Can it really maintain that much energy?" he whispered to himself, furiously scribbling notes into his worn leather journal. "The aetheric currents... could be unstable, perhaps? Need more data..."

His focus was absolute, the festival seemingly forgotten as he studied the crystals, but his mutterings caught the attention of a tall, muscular man who stood nearby. Merrick Greywall, the blacksmith, had been observing the professor with a skeptical eye for several minutes, his massive arms crossed over his chest.

"Yer overthinking it, Professor Korrin." The man grunted, his voice gruff. "It's just metal and magic, same as any other contraption. But I'll give it to ya, it's a beauty of a thing."

Professor Korrin blinked and looked up, as if noticing the man for the first time. "Metal and magic, yes,Thank you Merrick." he muttered. "But these crystals... they're far more than that. The energy inside them—it's unlike anything I've ever seen. If the balance is off, even by the smallest degree, we could be dealing with a catastrophe."

Merrick raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Catastrophe or not, I wouldn't mind forging with something like that," he replied, nodding toward the machine. "Bet it could turn a blade stronger than steel."

The professor merely shook his head, more concerned with theoretical dangers than the practical uses Merrick envisioned.

The atmosphere of the courtyard grew more jovial as the evening continued. Guests flocked to the vendor stalls and games, laughter ringing out as groups gathered around a social butterfly, who charmed those nearby with her elegant demeanor and sharp wit. Her eyes glittered like polished gems as she moved through the crowd, her smile never faltering as she greeted guests with a practiced grace.

"A marvelous evening, is it not?" The woman purred, taking a delicate sip from her glass of wine. "Alistair has truly outdone himself this year. But then again," she added with a sly smile, "he always has such a talent for spectacle." She had gone to stand next to Lady Aurellia, and the older woman sniffed at her words.

"Spectacle and folly go hand in hand," Lady Aurelia muttered under her breath, but Vivienne caught the words. She offered a sympathetic smile, though her eyes held an amused glint.

"Indeed, my lady," Vivienne replied softly, inclining her head. "But sometimes folly is what drives the world forward, no?"

Lady Aurelia only responded with a curt nod before turning her attention back to the crystal machine, her thoughts clearly far from the festivities.

As the night deepened, the fortune teller emerged from her tent. Her presence was subtle, yet commanding, her long black robes flowing elegantly as she moved quietly through the courtyard. Her hands, pale and delicate, held a deck of tarot cards, the edges worn and familiar. She wandered the festival, her gaze lingering on the crystal machine, her lips moving ever so slightly in silent contemplation.

The guests who passed her glanced nervously at the cards in her hands but said nothing. Suddenly, she stopped near the entrance to the manor, her eyes narrowing as she looked up at the towering structure. She turned her gaze toward the night sky for a brief moment before shaking her head and continuing her walk through the festival, her expression unreadable.

The guests began to make their way toward the manor’s grand entrance, some chatting excitedly about the night’s events, others falling into quiet reflection.
The grand halls of the manor creaked underfoot as the guests disappeared into their rooms, the stone walls and wooden beams groaning as though they, too, were burdened by the weight of centuries-old secrets.

︶꒦꒷The Next Morning ꒷꒦︶​

The dawn came sluggishly, the light of the rising sun struggling to penetrate the thick fog that had settled over the Valenwood estate like a heavy shroud. The air was unnaturally cold for the season, clinging to the stone walls of the manor and seeping into the bones of anyone who ventured outside. The revelry of the night before seemed like a distant memory, replaced by an uneasy stillness that hung over the guests as they gathered once again in the grand hall for breakfast.

The room was quiet, the usual chatter subdued. Many of the guests looked pale and tired, as though they hadn’t slept well, disturbed by the manor’s creaking walls or perhaps something more sinister. A sense of dread lingered in the air, an unspoken tension shared by everyone present.

Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a piercing scream.

The scream shattered the early morning stillness, cutting through the air like a jagged blade. For a brief, frozen moment, the guests inside the estate stood in stunned silence, their hearts pounding as the sound echoed in their ears. Then, like a wave breaking, panic swept through the crowd.

They surged toward the source of the scream, spilling out of the manor and into the misty courtyard. The fog was still thick, swirling around their feet as they followed the desperate shouts to the trees near the guest houses.

There, hanging from a thick, gnarled branch of an old oak tree, was the lifeless body of Ronan Driscoll.

He swayed gently in the morning breeze, suspended by thick ropes twisted tightly around his neck. His once charming and lively face was now grotesquely contorted in fear, his eyes wide and glassy, reflecting nothing but the dim light of dawn. His skin had taken on an eerie pallor, and his body hung limply, drained of all vitality.

Gasps of horror and disbelief rippled through the crowd of onlookers. Some of the guests recoiled, covering their mouths as they turned away, while others stood frozen in shock, their eyes locked on the ghastly sight of Ronan's swaying form. The tree, normally a picturesque part of the estate’s grounds, now loomed menacingly over the scene.horrifying sight.
6aa2af4a-b636-4a2f-8277-0a89fe91743b.webp

Lord Alistair Valenwood was the first to step forward, his face ashen and his voice trembling as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. “This... this must be some kind of... accident,” he stammered, though even as he spoke, his words rang hollow. There was no way to explain this away as an accident—not when the ropes had been so carefully and deliberately tied, not when Ronan’s face was twisted in such agony.

The other guests began to murmur anxiously among themselves, fear creeping into their voices as the reality of the situation began to sink in. The laughter and light-heartedness of the night before had been replaced by a chilling realization: something was very wrong at the Valenwood estate.

Lady Aurelia Valenwood moved forward with a grim expression; her face tight with concern. She glanced briefly at Alistair before her eyes settled on Ronan’s lifeless form, her lips pressing into a thin line. But she remained quiet for a moment.

As the guests whispered nervously, the fortune teller stepped forward from the crowd. Her usually calm expression was tense, her eyes sharp as she surveyed the scene. She pulled a small, intricately carved talisman from her cloak and held it in her palm as she addressed the group.

“There is a spirit here,” she said softly, her voice eerily steady despite the chaos around her. “Something old and vengeful. I've felt it since I stepped upon the grounds. It walks among us, using us as its instruments. I believe the spirit possessed one of us, to play out its wrath."

Her words sent a shiver through the guests. Some looked skeptical, but others seemed to take her words to heart, their fear deepening as they realized that something far beyond their understanding was at play.

She stepped around the room and handed out the talismans to the gathered guests, her hands moving deliberately, as though each gesture carried a great weight. “These will help you,” she explained gravely. “If you sense the presence of the spirit, use the talisman. It may be enough to drive it away—for a time.” Alistair shook his head and snapped his fingers, assigning servants to take the body down. Despite the arguments of several guests claiming, it to be contaminating a crime scene.

"All of you please find your way out to the festival and enjoy the food and games. Ronan was an old friend of mine. So I'll see to it that his death is properly investigated." He cleared his throat and moved to speak with Aurellia. Who seemed even more tense than she had the previous night. Her voice was low and hissing as she spoke to Alistair.

"You know I think I saw someone walking around the grounds last night. Near the Guest houses...."

"Shush...Aunt Aurellia please..."


  • df7937dc-ae96-45dc-826d-d4e29ea7ee73.webp
    Roll 1D10 for the Test of Strength (Hammer & Bell)

    8-10: Rings the bell with great strength. Earn 2 points.

    5-7: Gets close, but doesn’t ring the bell. Earn 1 point.

    1-4: Weak attempt, doesn’t come close. Earn 0 points.



  • Rhxs-Bg-T-min.png

    LT3 - Strength Game
    LT2 - Apple Bobbing
    LT4 - Haunted House
    ST3 - Goldfish Scooping
    ST7 - Pie Eating Contest
    ST6 - Archery/Marksmanship Game
    ST5 - Fortune Teller



    • ef9d4668-b38d-4b25-829a-0c9633acb599.webp
    • The host of the festival. A young lord thats claimed to have unearthed his ancestor's crystal technology that was lost to the public.

Okay everyone I'm hoping this is going to go smoothly. I might have to do a few updates as my brain is usually fuzzy by this point and this is when I do a lot of my writing now. SO.

You all can post as much as you want so long as it's not back to back. Make sure someone else posts after you before you post again.

You can use the RPN Dice to play the games. Keep track of your points and you can keep a prize at the end.

I will post twice a week. Tuesdays and Saturdays. Each round that I post will transition into the night of the festival and the next morning. Your posts will be you all interacting and playing the games during the day. However on your first post per round, leave a spoiler at the end telling me what you THINK your character will do/is going to do that night. I will write the night out accordingly. All the character actions should for the most part match. Except one. Each night. One person will be possessed and kill someone.

The Fortune teller gave everyone a talisman. If your character thinks they know who is possessed by the spirit they can go up to the person they think is it and hold the talisman up to them. If they guess right, the talisman will dispel the spirit from the host. If they guess wrong nothing will happen.

So again just to make sure this part is clear Please make a spoiler with information on what you think your character is going to do that night

Special thanks to Tobi for the map!
 
Last edited:

Martin
Mentions: N/A
Equipped Titles: Abomination, Human (Mundane), Construct, Novice Tinkerer, Isekai

9bba44ce428a1e9b87f573e696335d7d.jpg

Discovery was unending. His mind always craved more. But the bones would become weary.

When a mysterious invitation appeared to be handed out at random, he would see little reason to not accept. He did not think himself above such base desires as food and lodging. The festivities seemed but a tiny bonus, even if there was little in the realm of inherent interest in doing them beyond a quaint distraction. Still, the scientist within him knew that at times, many of the most significant discoveries happened accidentally.

Who knows what he might learn today?

Clack....clack.

The steady tapping of a catalyst in the form of retractable staff, which doubled as a walking aid, followed the cyborg whenever he so tread upon more complex surfaces. The steady tick of an artificial heart would be audible to those with particularly perceptive hearing. Most of what could visibly be seen of mechanical components was in his completely replaced arm. How much of Martin was a machine and how much was meat was mainly left up to interpretation, given the heavy clothes he wore.

The first thing he learned was that this place also appeared to have a parallel to Halloween -- despite the fact that no such countries from which it originated. From what he could recall, it was a holiday that found origins in a Celtic Holiday, which was then brought over by Irish Immigrants to the Americas. No such countries existed here, and yet it appeared that it manifested in a similar fashion. A day dedicated to horrific motifs, treats, and pumpkins.

Perhaps it was brought over by someone who originated from one of many earths.

He walked about from stall to stall to stall the first day, trying out each of the games in some attempt to grasp them. He failed at nearly all of them on the first day but was hardly discovered. More practice would be required, and he seemed more interested in it given the sight of the prizes. However, it felt as though his body was not really very well equipped for a "pie-eating contest". He made not of most people he'd seen, boiling them all down into their archetypes before going about the night. One studious man seemed to like him, intent on studying the "crystals." Professor Korrin was his name.

A kindred spirit.

He'd have preferred to sleep alone rather than with the others, valuing his privacy. But beggars couldn't be choosers. He looked about the 8 beds of the room he was placed in. [Room CO3]

The night proved oddly.... interesting. Strange noises lurked about the mansion, and he couldn't help but wonder if it was intentional. Given time and a brief investigation amid the night. While his retractable staff rests on his bedside table, his pistol is beneath the pillow.

The Next Morning

He awoke to a scream. It seemed those strange noises meant something after all. He quickly slipped on all his gear, high-tech body armor, gun, catalyst, and all -- and then he made his way downstairs. Given his slowness, it seemed he would be one of the last to be on the scene. But he made it in time to see the corpse of one adventurer strung up in a tree. Martin's wrinkled face raised a brow, showing little signs of shock and more of what could be described as intensity.

Wrinkles already on his aged face deepened, as he squinted at the corpse, attempting to ascertain the nature of it.

It wasn't really the agony of the expression that gave away the nature of this as a murder -- but the scream. Most people who would do such a thing would hardly shriek out in surprise or shock. What was worse was the hasty nature in which this had been taken down.

At this point, he was more inclined to believe the superstitious fortune teller than him. Martin inspected the Talisman he'd been given. Given the context, there was decent enough to reason to believe it might be useful. Or perhaps it was one of the guests. He looks over to Lady Aurelia....who appears to be less keen on being quiet.

"Thank you. I appreciate this. I can't say I have much defense against specters of any kind. Though hopefully, if this doesn't work, that more...traditional methods of attack will." He hoped nobody would look at him unkindly, should he seek to put an attacker through the wall.

I should think of how I'll go about this.

The manner in which he'd decided to do this would be whilst playing a game. There seemed to be a concerted effort to quiet things, so he'd pass the time with some Marksmanship. Solving the murder added a new goal in tandem with the pursuit of potentially useful prizes. He'd approach someone later in search of clues.

Perhaps I'll pay good Aunt Aurellia a visit

For now, however, he simply squeezed the trigger, playing a game in which the mage found himself...


Actions: 2/3

1. Moves to ST6 on the second day.
2. Plays "Marksmanship" game
 
Last edited:
Titles:

[Fae, Mundane], Text Colors: #ffcf30, #e60606

“It's Showtime!!” - 1/1, cooldown not active

“One Hell of a Show!” - 1/1, cooldown not active

“We Have a Deal to Make” - 1/1, cooldown not active

Actions Taken: moved from LT3 to ST5 on the first night; mysteriously appeared within the mansion
​

None could say where exactly he came from. A shadow flickered behind a corner, someone blinked and missed the shape of a man dressed in red. His lithe body provided nothing of subtlety, and yet he was perhaps the most observant figure amongst the revelry. His piercing gaze scanned over the horizon of food and prizes. His long limbs carried him ever onward, silence swallowing his footsteps. Did he even receive a formal invitation? He held no such thing in his pockets, or so most people assumed. One glance at his sharp teeth, however, and their curiosity would be curbed.

There were murmurs about something translucent following him as a companion would, whispering to him as he faded in and out of the crowd only to disappear entirely. The rumors of a ghost were immediately drowned out for now, however. He puffed out his chest. He broadened his shoulders, and fell in line with the band as if he belonged there all this time. They did not speak ill of his actions, nor did they deny him his tithe of the performance. He laughed and sang as boldly as any entertainer would, his voice carrying along tender threads of incorporeal silk. The wisps of luxury were responsible for breathing his words into life. Words, after all, had power - no matter how insignificant.

"They say wax wings only get you so far
They say the sun burns hotter
The closer you get, or so they say
It's not easy being a man
With only one dream in his life
It's not like he's looking ahead

He's always chasing that car
Burning under that collar
Every single hour of every single day
It's not easy without a plan
When you're always in strife
And not looking... ahead!"​

The details of his outfit became apparent in his fascinating, almost fluid, dancing. His long fingers plucked his hat off his curly gold hair, a hand sweeping the locks back and causing a fluctuation of color. As he spun the hat by its rim around his pointer digit, the corresponding eye switched into the hue of bright arterial blood. He cackled as he continued to perform.

"But that's not our man
That's not our host
Our host is the most gracious host
Our man is the man with the plan
He built his wings wide and strong
He's sailing to the sun

Believe me, my friend
It's not meager boast
Just a slightly stupendous boast
Don't make it sound too grand
Something could always go wrong
But thinking about that spoils the fun!"
​
Something became immediately apparent to the band members. They never heard this song before, but they were following along with his vocal notes perfectly. Though they shared in this feeling, the overall experience shifted into one of excitement and enthusiasm rather than anxiety. Their lungs and limbs melted into the chorus, losing themselves within the labyrinth of sound by virtue of pure instinct... or so they thought. [Illusion F 21]

A playful tilt of his head, then more of his banter and chirping. They weren't here to hear him sing, they were here to witness the extravagance of a man whose fortune and lineage paid for such a luxurious existence. He didn't have to remember what he sang. He just had to ensure that it remained within the acceptable parameters of the festival. Nothing too ominous, nothing too strange, and he hopped off the stage without a care in the world. The band wanted to congratulate him, but could not find him once he sank back into the crowd that gathered around.

He approached the fortune teller, interested in what she had to say about him rather than many of the other games. Perhaps he would visit the frights at some point. He did as she told him, his strange proportions leading him to bend at the waist in order to accommodate her stall.

[Rolled a 9]

Apparently, he had a positive reading. He owed that to his polite manners and overall interest in the subject matter... but couldn't help but feel like he left a strange first impression.

Without much else to do, he retired into the mansion along with the others. No one seemed to notice he was even there. Not even the band members caught the faintest glance of him before they left, almost like they forgot him altogether.


He stayed up all night, staring out from various windows all throughout the mansion. His footsteps were eerily quiet. His strides, while long, carried him as if he were swimming rather than walking. They only made noise when dawn broke. He moved from heel to toe, clicking as he went along his dancing shoes. He turned along the hallway to the grand foyer, following the sounds of a horrid commotion.

With his rictus smile firmly in place, the fae crested the stairs and raised an eyebrow at the display of violence before him. Someone seemed to have murdered poor Ronan Driscoll, the apparent friend of the Lord of the estate. But, rather than respect the sanctity of whatever this might have appeared to be - given the disbelief mixed with strange hints of anxiety - he approached the old tree from which Ronan swung lifelessly.

He wouldn't say a word, more fascinated by the idea of someone such as Ronan being hanged from a tree in the middle of the night and not having heard at least a peep from what was surely a glorious struggle.

His ears twitched when the fortune teller made mention of... spirits. His golden eyes widened, darkening with flexing pupils as his smile tightened.

"Oh?" he chuckled, taking the talisman with a feverish glee. "Playing detective, are we?"

He opened his mouth with a wet pop from the joints and cackled, squeezing the trinket in his grasp.

"Rest assured... eventually this will work~"

He spun on his heels and entered the manor once more. There would be more than one grave to fill before this whole ordeal became a distant memory... for whom, only time would tell.
 
Last edited:




The Previous Night
“How droll.” Irihi observed, standing before the haunted house , arms akimbo, watching guests emerge white-faced and shaking, some laughing nervously and looking about them--as if the terror that had shaken them within might continue to dog their heels even after leaving the carnival house of horror.

Yes, it was laughable; the hairless baboons frightening themselves with shadows and empty imitations of ghouls and wraiths. And yet…

And yet there was something… unseen that did seem to trail from the fools, like cobwebs; invisible but with an unmistakable ghostly touch. Oh, it was maddening, being unable to summon the Ghoul Eye; one of her simplest crafts of the worlde from which she’d been banished; and peer through its ghastly lens at the desolate truths behind the facades of love and happiness.

Irihi folded her arms. Ah well. It was not as though she did not know those truths, even if she could not scry them. A tiny tic twitched along her delicate jawline as she eyed the haunted house. Will I really lower myself to wade through the foulness of the same stinking pits as these beast-adjacent humans?

Why not? She’d already played exterminator for those corrupt-blooded Fae weaklings of the See. If she was to forage for scraps of power in the filth of mortal souls, why roll in it; revel in the abasement of being guest at this so-called “manor” of sticks, pebbles, and dung? ”Always.” She replied with a narrow-eyed white-lipped taunt smile as the servant manning the haunted house warned her to “beware.”

[7]

Tiresome. Insipid. Pedantic. It was as she had anticipated; wires and paper and shadows. There was nothing to fear and therefore nothing to love. It was disappointing, for Irihi had thought perhaps she might catch just a shade of the un; a whiff--even if it was an artifice--of her past life.

Until the mirror.

It was not even a part of any of the ghastly displays--merely a bit of detritus, welded by rust and age to the back of a mundane candelabra, retrieved from the manor’s forgotten storage by some ignorant servant. The black-burning candles, therein, festooned with fake spiderwebs were meaningless; a minor enchantment more disturbing for lack of effort than anything. But the mirror… That ancient forgotten artefact; it had held an image only for an instant, and Irihi could not say if she had truly seen it, or if had only been a figment of her imagination past. She had spied the flash of the void--of null where something alive and joyful should have been--and it had shaken her to her core.

The sorceress staggered from the haunted house, her gaze taking in none of the festivities nor the festival-goers. She fetched up against a garden walk lamppost, clinging to it with fingers numbed by the memory of the touch of that dark star when she had, herself, been nothing but ash and shadow.

But he is there. And I am here.

In the Forsaken Bleak.

Irihi passed the rest of the night in the quiet dark places of the manor’s gardens. She was not really there, though her body--whole, mortal, and weak in this world--wandered the grounds like some silent black-clad spectre, she was lost in memories and worlds away from this one.

The Present Murderous Day
It was only when the soothsayer spoke into the deathly chill of the mists on the morning after the murder, that Irihi--who had drifted back into the crowd after her long sleepless and sightless vigil--felt her ire rekindle. She had been separated from her wellspring of malice by the mists of that memory. Now, they cleared away from the oily seething surface of that bottomless black sea. The weight of it, the gravity of countless leagues of hatred, drew her sharply into the present.

Someone is fucking with me. She realized. Perhaps it was the spirit of which the fortune teller spoke. Irihi felt a jagged lance of frustrated rage pierce her coal-black heart. I can no longer see this spirit--but perhaps she can. The sorceress thought.

While the other guests milled and mingled, trying not to see the macabre sight of the corpse being lowered from the clawlike branches of the gallows tree, Irihi stalked after the fortune-teller, following her fluttering dark cloak as she retreated to the draperies and mystic implements of her booth.

Very little light dared to spill past the sallow shoulders of the sorceress as she darkened Maelis’ doorway. “Where is it!? Tell me, soothsayer!” Irihi demanded, explaining neither what it was, nor why she wanted to find it. “Now.”

[3]

Irihi’s fangs showed as she made a frustrated noise at the Fortune Teller’s words. “You are wrong.” She snarled. ”I am the self-same crucible I always was. I will find this spirit, I shall draw it in, and I will burn its power within me until nothing remains but ash.” The sorceress insisted, leaving the soothsayer’s talisman on the table behind her as she stormed out.

I am. She insisted to herself as she strode away from the hateful baubles and trinkets of that trivial witch. Irihi crossed the grounds in a blind rage, heading, she knew not where.

Summary- Irihi Haunts the House (1pt)
- Irihi doesnt soothe the say. (0pt)
- Irihi stomps off big mad.
 

Caesar “Surpann” Romano
IMG_3290.jpeg
Equipped titles: Human
Mentions:

Several days ago when caesar found himself wandering the capital city of Otenzian he would stumble upon a crumpled paper in the damp cobblestone streets. Being the curious man he was he would open the paper and discover it was an open invitation to some-kind of gathering at the Valenwood Estate. Having no idea what that even was he would ask around until finally getting a straight answer, some wealthy family throwing a fall festival. This is a perfect opportunity! He would think to himself As he imagined the potential sponsors and maybe even people of high standing he could teach the way of the luchador. Best of all the festive setting would present him the opportunity to showcase his new costume the flying serpent.

With only the slightest but of effort he was able to convince his uncle José to lend him the older horse Lulu, on the condition that he took the wagon and dropped a shipment of fresh tanned leather to the town along the way. After their deal it was just a matter of getting the food and water for his trip, along with some rubbing oil. It would take him about three days to reach the town, and another day and a half to reach the Beautiful Estate. Once at the estate he would promptly stable Lulu and find himself following a servant into the Grand Courtyard where the young Alistair Valenwood would give a welcoming speech. After which Caesar would spend the night trying, rather unsuccessfully, to mingle with folks in the crowd. Yet many of the guests seemed to be either frankly terrifying to him, or they were socially out of his league, thus he would be among the first to head to his room. There he would perform his usual workout before letting himself drift to sleep a few minutes before the roommates he would have arrive.
~~~

The sound of the scream the next morning would awaken Caesar with a jolt. Tumbling out of his bead to ready himself he would find that his sheets had wrapped around his legs and what he intended to be a quick hop to his feet in readiness resulted in his falling to the floor with a thud and a groan. Nonetheless he would spring to his feet quickly, donning the mask he had stashed under his pillow the night before and being grateful that it would hide the shame flushed face he had beneath it. Caesar would follow the other guests to the horrid sight of the Man dangling from the tree and his expression unreadable in part because of the mask, but also due to his seeming inability to come to terms with what was being said about this. ‘There is a spirit here’ the fortunetellers words would echo in his mind causing a chill to crawl down his spine. Of course, my first foray into the realm of the wealthy brings with it murder and ghosts. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation, morbid as it was he felt like he was in a horror movie from his first childhood…and eerily enough he knew for a fact he would not be the main character in this particular movie.

As the fortuneteller passed out the talismans he would grip his tightly as if it were a lifeline, the fear of the situation beginning to get to him. Taking a deep breath he would steel himself. ‘You cannot be a legend if you succumb to fear’ he would think to himself as the mans body was removed and the guests began to mill about. He would tuck the talisman into his yellow leather boot and decide that it would be best to distract himself. So he would seek out a snack, settling on a greasy fried cake of sorts before making his way towards a game he knew he could win…the Hammer Swing.

Caesar had done this many times in his previous life when his family would visit the carnival, but the time he was twelve he had mastered the art of ringing that silly bell, the trick was not in power but rather in the physics of your swing. So when he made his way to the strength test he was confident. Wolfing down the rest of his greasy snack he would take the hammer and allow himself to get a feel for its weight. Finally he would take the hammer in both hands his grip spread, heaving the hammer on his shoulder he would allow it to twist upwards thrusting it high into the air and lifting onto his tiptoes before driving the hammer down alongside his entire body weight prepared to deliver a devastating impact to the plunger…or at least thats what he thought he had done. As it turned out, greasy fingers and a smooth hammer handle on a heavy sledge do not go well together. The hammer would slip from his grip at the apex of his swing, sending it sailing past the bell missing it by a few inches before beginning to plummet back down towards a few members of the crowd. “Dios mio!! look out!!!” He would shout mortified at his failure, but more so concerned that he might have hurt someone with his error.

Summary
Caesar Rides to the Estate, Awkwardly fails to mingle the first night.
Awakens with a thud, Feels fear at the murder particularly the ghostly bits.
Fails spectacularly at the strength test. (4)
Previous night action: Going to Sleep early.
​
 
Last edited:

842zD4d.png



"CURRENTLY DISGUISED AS 'TORSKELE'"

Mentions:
| Maverick Six Maverick Six [Martin] |
​
Earlier that previous day....​

The Fall Festival...

Jebidiah heard about this festival late last year upon seeing various posters and advertisements. Yet he'd never been to one. Admittedly he'd say he was simply too busy with looking for work and while that's true to an extent, he couldn't say he was the least bit curious. He'd see posters plastered on walls, pinned to trees, or handed out by the odd paper boy hollering in various town squares - with Ryke being one of the most popular staging grounds for the festivities. From his understanding, it was simply a party that celebrated the harvest festival; with lots of food, games, and shops for which to buy your autumn goodies. The aesthetic, however, reminded Jeb of a holiday back in his world... and a familiar one at that.

Halloween.

Both in previous life, and in initial death, the gunslinger had always enjoyed his time of the year. Once upon a time, when he still sported flesh and blood, he and his gang of misfits would stake advantage of the unique amenities provided in town; often going to bars and saloons to grab a few drinks and causing harmless mischief and mayhem against the children pestering them for treats or teasing them in spite. Well, they were mostly harmless. There were some nights were Jeb's gang was tasked to kill a man or collect debts off those who hadn't payed them yet. Deceptively they've pulled some nasty tricks to take advantage of the holiday fear and some initially brushed them off for being simply part of the atmosphere or pulling a gnarly trick.

Unfortunately, those sorry sops would realize too late of what they've gotten themselves into.

After becoming a skeleton, Jeb and his crew merely resorted to tricks and devilry which usually involved scaring the crap out of anyone they wished. No money was involved or taken, nor were any precious lives, neither were candies or other delicacies needed... for them, spooky day was all day, everyday. Many screams were heard, a few accidents may have occurred, but the skeletal crew took much pleasure in their scare-tactics. Halloween became merely a normality for the skeleton crew and sooner or later they grew tired of it. Jeb thought he had exhausted all of his spooky spirit and thought never again would he enjoy the holiday.

Perhaps that's what he thought upon seeing the posters for the first time... maybe even around this time when invitations were going around regarding a Fall Festival party happening at the Valenwood estate. So imagine the shock Jebidiah had felt upon receiving a mysterious letter beckoning to participate in these fall festivities. And it was that letter that seemed to rekindle the ghostly spiritual essence which once haunted his soul oh so long ago. Perhaps... he might as well enjoy himself. But first, he needed a costume... a new identity for forge himself even if just for a night. He wanted to show himself a bit more, let him breathe in a sense, without giving away that he was truly a skeleton monster. While not a mandatory thing to wear to his understanding, the letter also DIDN'T say anything about outlawing them either.

Finding said suitable costume was rather tricky. He swore he went about changing in several different attires. He first thought about being a dullahan... but he had no horse. There was also a common trope of painting skeletons red to make them look menacing... buuuuut Jeb wasn't in the mood to stain his bones red of paint. That and it was pretty mainstream. Though after searching through costume after costume, he came across one that struck him. Hidden in the very back of the costume store, within a mix up of old mangles costumes, was one labeled simply as...

"80s Skeleton Sorcerer"*

It was a simple attire... comprised with a bluish body suit alongside purple clothes - coming with a pair of boots, a strapped cowl attached with a cross-bone pattern in the middle, a hooded cape, and a yellow-ish skeleton mask. Also shoved alongside it was a staff marked with a ram-head to give off that evil sorcerer look. Admittedly... it looked sort of cheap... but something about it charmed him. Maybe it was the simplicity of the costume? Or perhaps his twisted-side relishing in the good ole' days of dastardly fun? Whatever it was, Jebidiah believed this was the right fit for him. He then rose the mask to his face, wanting to see how he'd look-

SMACK!

Jeb felt the skeletal mask forcibly CLAMP down on his face. In a panic he tried taking it off, but he couldn't get it off him! His screams were muffled behind the mask, feeling himself pulled towards the ground in what felt like a sea of darkness. What the hell was this costume?! Just then, the gunslinger would feel a mysterious energy flow through him... and from the gloom he heard a voice call to him from the darkness of his mind:

"NYAHEHEHEHEHE-!" a ghastly and nasally laugh echoed from all angles in frightening glee, "WHO'S THE SORRY FOOL WHO HAS WAKENED THE GREAT 'TORSKELE" FROM HIS SLUMBER?!"

Jeb found his conscious manifested in a sea of darkness, unable to do anything but react to whatever was thrown at him. "Why I beg yer' pardon? Waz' de meanin' of this?"

"YOU ARE THE MEANING OF THIS, YOU FOOOOL!" the disembodied voice screeched madly, "I'D CALL YOU A BONEHEAD, BUT IT APPEARS YOU'RE ALREADY ONE! NYEHEHEHEHE!"

"NOW SPEAK! AND SPEAK QUICK! HOW WERE YOU ABLE TO UNCOVER MY REMAINS?!"

"Look 'ere! I was just... I found dis 'ere costume in a thrift store. Nestled waaaay yonder back. Was gonna rent it and wear it for a party- I mean, why I didn' expect it to be a cursed mask n' suit of some long gone sorcerer or nothin'!"

"YOU FOUND IT WHERE?!" Torskele bellowed, feeling completely dumbfounded and betrayed of what he found himself into, "WHY I OUGHTA-! THOSE OWNERS KNOW NOT OF WHAT THEY POSSESS! IF I COULD I'D SMACK THESE FLEA MART HECKLERS I WOULD SMITE EM TENFOLD!"

"It's the honest truth! Mah apologizes! Like fine, I'll take it off and let ya be-"

"NYAHEHEHEHEHE-!" the voice chortled devilishly, "THEN WHY LEMME THROW YOU A DEAL, PAL. YOU SAY YOU WANTED TO WEAR ME TO THE FALL FESTIVAL, YES?"

"Y... Yeah?"

"LET ME EXPERIENCE IT."

"W-What?"

"OH DON'T TELL ME YOU'RE DEAF TOO- I SAID TO LET ME EXPERIENCE THE FALL FESTIVAL!"

"...uh. May I kindly ask why?"

"I'VE NOT HAD A PROPER BODY TO WALK AROUND IN FOR CENTURIES!" Torskele replied, being truly full of himself as he revealed his skulled head at Jebidiah for him to see. " YOU HEAR ME?! CENTURIES! I'M LONG OVER DUE TO STRETCH ME BONES! HAD YOU BEEN A FLESHY, I WOULD'VE SUCKED YOUR LIFE ESSENCE AND SPAT YOU OUT AS A DRIED UP CORPSE! BUT AS A FELLOW BONEY BOY, YOU AND I FIT TOGETHER LIKE TWO JOINTS IN A LIGAMENT!"

"I-I'm not sure that's how it works but-"

"THAT AND I LOOOOOVE FALL FESTIVALS! MY FAVORITE TIME OF THE YEAR! YOU KNOW NOT HOW LONG I'VE WAITED TO GO TO ONE AGAIN! ALLOW ME TO EXPERIENCE IT - JUST THIS ONCE - AND I'LL LET YOU WEAR MY COSTUME WITHOUT FUSS! AND WHEN IT IS ALL DONE, I SHALL SHED MYSELF FROM YOU AND FIND SOMEONE ELSE FOR ME TO WEAR!"

"Listen... I reckon I aint the smartest guy 'round... but I've heard what your folk are known to do. What's the catch?"

"CATCH? WHAT CATCH? THERE IS NONE!" the voice bursted out compulsively, before quickly backpedaling on that claim, "WELL... I LIED, THERE'S ONLY ONE! THAT IS DO NOT EXPECT ME TO LEND YOU MY MAGIC! I AM BUT A MERE COSTUME... MY SORCERY POWERS ARE BEYOND YOU!"

"NO. MAGIC. FOR. YOU!"

"So other then just an actual body I inhabit... yer juz a voice in my head? No additional powers or nothin' of the sort?"

"CORRECT!"

"Ugh... reckon I'm gonna regret this. Aight fine... I guess you can tag along... but ONLY for the festival. THAT'S it. Make it look like it's a costume, I do NOT want folks to know who we truly are. No funny business or any o' that. Once it's over, I'm taking you off, ya hear?"

"TORSKELE NEVER LIES NOR CHEATS." the skeletal head replies in a seemingly honest matter, before conjuring a boney hand of his own and shakes Jeb's own hand. "THUS THE DEAL HAS BEEN STRUCK. NOW GO! I COMMAND THEE TO TAKE ME TO THE SPOOKY FESTIVAL AT ONCE, MY BONY COMPATRIOT! SO THAT I CAN CONQU- I MEAN, SO THAT WE CAN ENJOY THE FESTIVITIES!"
*Pick whichever design you headcanon as.
The Previous Night...​


The night during the festival was something of a blur for Jebidiah's costumed visage alongside his newfound friend. The shock of being part of the elite, the wondrous scents and sights swirling around them, and all sorts of folk were present here. His costume fit nicely with the other costumed guests - at least those that bothered dressing up - with no one even batting an eye or realizing the fact that an actual skeleton was in their presence. This night was more of a calm prologue to what would start on the next day; a chance to familiarize oneself with the premises of the Valenwood estate. He didn't expect to see anyone familiar, however he did recall notiing one particularly familiar fellow - the hulking cybernetic man known as "Martin" from that one quest up in the mountains. Jeb also considered approaching to greet him, but figured he probably wouldn't remember him anyways.

Best to keep a lower profile.

One perk he was given however was the ability to actually taste and consume foods and drink. A sensation he nearly forgotten after smoking many MANY cigarettes and tobacco, but it was an absolutely luxurious one. Surprising, given how Torskele supposedly forbade him using his magics, but perhaps having HIM within him was enough to regain that sense of pleasure. He'd nearly have gobbled fist fulls of goodies if he so wanted to, but he had to retrain Torskele from his gluttonous rampage. Aside from his nagging and talkative nature, Jeb reckoned he might get along with him for the duration of the festival.

Even as the festivities closed for the late evening, Jeb would find himself staring out the window from the bedroom he was kindly provided for within the mansion. He'd fall asleep shortly after, feeling full and both sporting a rather positive aspect to the Fall Festival so far. Though really, this was only the beginning...

The Next Morning...​


"WAKE UP SLEEPY BONES!"

Jostled by Torskele screaming at him in his mind, Jebidiah would find himself lurched up from bed in utter bewilderment. He didn't need to breathe, but even this felt like all the air from his non-existent lungs had been pushed out of him. "Ya sunova-" muttered the gunslinger groggily as he shook his head lazily, "Don't... ya dog gone do that again."

"YA MISSED THE SCREAM!" Torskele cried out in sarcastic-anguish, "NYEHEHEHEHE- SOME POOR GIRL WAS SCARED OUTTA THEIR MIND! LIKE BLOODY MURDER! IS THIS HOW YOU FOOLS WAKE UP THESE DAYS? HILARIOUS!"

"What scream?" Jeb paused for a moment as he processed what he was told. A scream? Bloody murder? What was he talking about? Was he screwing with him? Then he heard rapid commotion forming in the hallway, one of confusion, distraught, and overall panic bringing themselves into the open. "Ah shit..." Of course something had to go bump in the night- er, morning. He hurried himself out of bed, gathering his belongings and ran outside to see what was going on.

Turned out that Ronan Driscoll, one of the main hosts of the Festival, had been murdered.

Jeb clenched his teeth as he lowered his voice towards Torskele in his mind. "What did you do?" he hissed, somehow believing he must've been the culprit. Given he was inhabiting HIS body and how HE wanted to go to the festival, Jeb wouldn't be surprised if the sorcerer had attempted to possess him in his sleep. Because Jeb CERTAINLY didn't remember doing anything like that of the sort.

"FOOL!" barked Torskele with a sigh of disgust, "WE MADE A DEAL! I AM HERE FOR THE FESTIVAL, NOT TO CAUSE WRONGFUL MURDERS! AS ARE YOU! HAD I WANTED TO DO SO, I WOULD'VE MADE A BIGGER SCENE WITH IT! YOU WOULD KNOW HAD I WANTED BLOOD TO BE ON YOUR HANDS!"

Jeb wasn't sure if he wanted to believe his sorcerous friend, but after some feverous mental mauling over what was provided, he had to concede. No one had seen or pointed hands to any murderer... though clearly SOMEONE here was the culprit. Jeb clearly wasn't in the mood to do any [Monster Slayer] work, but he wouldn't hesitate to lay down order if he wanted to or had the chance. Then again, this could be some full blown act; a "death" as a means to thrill and suspense the audience... though a false case seemed highly unlikely of this scale.

Nonetheless, the hosts claimed this to be some sort of accident and dismissed everyone to enjoy the rest of the festivities while they figure out what happened. This was all very strange... something was going on here. Jeb doesn't know what, but hopefully they manage to get to the bottom of this. "C'mon now." Jeb muttered as they trailed off towards the stalls, "I know of a game we can play to take our minds off this."

And that perfect game... was the Marksmanship stall. Sauntering up towards the booth, Jeb would once again run into Martin trying his luck. A surprise to be sure... but indeed a welcome one. Perhaps now he can reacquaint himself with him. Seeing him take a pretty good shot at the target, Jeb would come next to him and admire his attempt.

"Nice shootin' 'ere, Marty," Jeb complimented Martin in a more rugged tone, akin to how his Cassidy Flint persona spoke, "Though lemme show ya how a real Tex does it."

Eyeing down the targets intently, Jeb's right hand hovered over his holster hidden behind his costume's belt. Even though he was supposedly at a harmless party, it would be foolish to not take his Big Irons with him in the case something happened.

Time seemed to slow as he eyed his target carefully with pinpoint precision. And after a few moments, Jeb would swiftly draw out his six-shooty and shot at his target in the blink of an eye:

[10]

"Bullseye." Jeb smirked as he twirled the pistol around his finger, blowing the light smoke trail emitting from the banner before holstering it back in his holster.

ACTIONS:
  1. - Moves to ST6 - Archery/Marksmanship Game
  2. - Plays Archery/Marksmanship Game (Gets a [10])
  3. -
TLDR:
- Jebidiah finds a "cursed" sorcerer's costume in the back of a thrift store.
- Makes a deal with "Torskele"; Tor lets Jeb wear the costume for festivities if he comes along. No powers or additional gains to Jeb's abilities.
- Joins the festival; notes some folk but doesn't do much.
- Wakes to see Rowan dead; accuses Torskele of doing it but he flat out denies it.
- Goes to ST6 to play Marksmanship game alongside Martin.
 
Last edited:
Rowan Thorn
rowan.jpg​
This whole adventure was a gig for her- well, to be fair, she was always on the grind, trying to work to afford the luxuries of living without having to scrape by. A bodyguard job, combined with an interesting festival to celebrate the coming of the fall season? Sign her up! Luckily, the Lady Aurelia was hiring. She didn't know much of the details, but from what Lord Valenwood was saying, and how the Lady was acting, she would presume there was something they were keeping a secret. Lady Aurelia evidently wanted some protection, so here she was- in the general area of the Lady, making sure not to stay too close or far, as per the Lady's instructions. Someone who could mill around in the crowd, but also close enough to be able to cast her protection and healing spells.

That night, she didn't get much sleep, but luckily her powers gave her the chance to give her uninterrupted sleep, so she just protected herself from the creaks and such, managing to steal some sleep here and there. Though when she stepped out of her room and saw what the guest saw, with the death of the man, she didn't say a word, making her way towards Lady Aurelia while making sure to stay close to her as possible. Her magic should be enough to keep the noble alive, if push came to shove. Hopefully. Either way, Lady Aurelia had an E grade barrier up around herself, courtesy of Rowan.

Since she had a few minutes here and there, she wanted to try some of these interesting booths. The strength ones weren't exactly ones she would go for, but getting free apples and goldfish...now those were where it was at. She would definitely attempt to get a new goldfish friend for herself. The fish would most likely need some friends as well, as it couldn't get lonely! So maybe she would camp by here and occasionally go for the apple for a snack, maybe get her fortune read. Pie eating was too messy for her, so she would stick to the apples and gold-fish, especially since it wasn't too time-consuming. So whenever possible, she would attempt to get a coppery fish for herself.

Summary:
Action 1: General bodyguarding-
  • Personal Wall Barrier/Dome- C Magic, Barrier, C selective, Range D, Energize D, Duration D, Targets D, AOE E, Control Environment F -B Grade (Cast at E Grade)
Action 2- Getting goldfish
 
Last edited:
Mentions: Moonberry Moonberry
Where: Grand Hall?
TLDR: Chattn up the Valenwoods

Malik Seraphim ​

1727837904840.png
Malik Seraphim accepted the charm from the fortune teller with a nod, pocketing it smoothly before making his way to Alistair and Lady Aurelia. He approached with the grace of his fae kind, offering a respectful bow.

"Lord Valenwood, Lady Aurelia," Malik began softly, his voice steady but thoughtful. "Please accept my deepest condolences. Ronan's passing is a great loss, and I understand this may not be the best time to discuss business. However, I am here on behalf of the Silver Star Trading Company and wanted to express its interest in the crystal innovation you’ve uncovered."

He paused a moment before continuing. "When the time feels right, I would be honored to discuss how we can collaborate to ensure this discovery reaches its full potential, safely and effectively. I believe there’s much we could accomplish together, but I want to respect your need to process recent events first."

Malik met their gazes with calm assurance, but his tone held sensitivity. "Risk is part of progress, my lady, but there is no rush. I am confident that together, we can navigate those challenges when the moment is appropriate."
 
Katja Galinka
Mentions: NachoGod NachoGod

img-rQY92MKMIuNMWcy2DK8F6.jpeg
​

Katja had found herself wandering in the capitol of Otenzian and just as some seasonal festival started. It was like one of the kind sge had fuzy memories of from before the labyrinth. That or from those movies that survived the chaos after it came. Despite the world ending people had carried on in her home, but never had there been another Halloween like before, never had there been a festival to celebrate the coming winter, and there was only fear of a thinning barrier between worlds. That this world had such celebrations was a welcome change to all the death and destruction that plauged thos world. To those from worlds lijehers it might seem odd that someone as devout as Katja looked so positively on the celebration of the spooky and the demonic, but she understood her own faith had made the holiday so many other branches of it had come to despise. Hating something that was just a bit of fun because people didn't do it your way never made sense to Katja and why likely sge had little issues with the religions and the gods of this world. The first night had been spent having fun with the many others and after praying she had slept.

In the morning it seemed that there were evil spirits about or so said a fortune teller and in this world and her home world thanks to the skills and abbilities. Still that a ghost needed a body to take its revenge was odd as she had yet to find any that could not become at least somewhat physical to attack others. Katja took the talisman as well the power of magic was real in this world, but she velived more in her faith to protect her from the spirit. Others seemed to go back to the festival and not leave like Katja thought was a good idea, still she didn't leave. The ghost if it was a ghost was only compounding its sins it needed to forgive. The question was who? Katja had little to go on as she was no detective.

Katja would end up at a strength test were a luchador, something she never expected to see, was apprently failing at a strength test. " perhaps it would be best you sick with your hands aren't weapons banned in the ring luchador? " she asked her tone playful but not quite enough to imply an Insult to the man.
 

John’s mouth hung open in disbelief as he stared at the gruesome scene before him. Why did danger always seem to be lurking around every corner in his life? He couldn’t help but curse his luck. Reluctantly, he accepted the charm from the fortune teller, following her instructions despite not being the superstitious type. Honestly, he was more than skeptical about its supposed power. What surprised him even more, though, was how the festival host decided to carry on with the festivities, despite his close friend having been found dead just that morning. Seriously? This had to be a terrible idea, but well... if the festival was still going, John figured he might as well try to enjoy it while it lasted.

His first stop was the Test of Strength booth. As he arrived, a commotion caught his eye—a luchador lost his grip on the hammer, sending it flying dangerously into the crowd. “Whoa there! Be careful with that!” John called out as he approached, shaking his head. Then he noticed a nun standing at the booth, and he raised an eyebrow in surprise. Was she some kind of eccentric muscle-training nun? Why else would she come to a strength contest? Then again, John too was just an average villager with not much strength to boast about. Still, this was a relatively simple game and so he felt like giving it a go. Gripping the hammer tightly, John lifted it over his head and swung it down hard toward the bell.

Actions:
1. Move to LT3
2. Play strength game
 

Martin
Mentions: Develius Develius NachoGod NachoGod
Equipped Titles: Abomination, Human (Mundane), Construct, Novice Tinkerer, Isekai

9bba44ce428a1e9b87f573e696335d7d.jpg

Recoiled surged through a single arm -- the gun kicking up as bullet left barrel for where the sites were aimed.

BANG

A near bullseye. A smile formed upon his wrinkled features. He blew on the barrel of his gun with a smile before placing it back in his holster, satisfied. But soon he saw someone approaching. He didn't initially understand who it was. But once he spoke, he recognized the voice and fact that he knew his name.

"Oh. I'd recognize that American accent anywhere. The stand is yours Cassidy." He comments, before watching to see if he proves what he claims.

Once he sees the shot, he nods in approval. "Very nice." Martin chuckled at being outdone oddly enough. "I'd expect nothing less from an American cowboy."

"I'd hope you'd outdo me. Would you believe that before I came to this world, one year ago, I had never needed to use a firearm?" Martin takes a mechanical hand, and points to his head. "My strength comes from here." He taps his temple with a single finger.

Maritn's head turns upon hearing a shout.

“Dios mio!! look out!!!”
Click to expand...

"Spanish? Here?"Not Bestial. Not Terran. Not Analog. Not Abyssal. Spanish.

Martin looked towards the source of the sound. But something appeared to have caught his eye. A hammer was soaring through the air and out of control, quickly on it's way to making skull crushing acquaintance with his noggin.

Thoughts were tossed aside.

"Backhand." The word of a spell. Martin wound up his hand next to his face -- the air around his arm distorting as he infused it with mana. At the tip of his catalyst, an orb floated -- surrounded by smaller orbs in a manner not disimilar to a celestial body. All a slight allusion to nature of his ability.

SLAP

To most people, Martin swung his hand in a backhanded "slapping" motion. The strike intercepted the hammer and knocked it aside, sending it flying in the direction of the strike even faster than it had come at it. The ground would shake for a moment as the hammer sank into the dirt like an artillery round, causing a significant dent. Dirt erupted into the air, but loose soil absorbed most of the shock.

Soil briefly rained from the sky. Blades of grass fluttered down gently. And Martin's eyes scanned the area.

Honestly, he likely wouldn't have been able to tell who exactly threw it, had he not seen a shirtless, muscular man in a luchador mask. "You." He pointed to the muscular, Mexican-looking wrestler. Before his finger went to the hammer cratered in the dirt. "....It seems you dropped this." He said, his tone giving way to some slight amusement. His typically cold expression, gives way to a slight smirk.

With that, he turned around and went right back to conversing and playing games. As though nothing happened.

"Cassidy. You're an adventurer with some seasoning yes? What do you think of the fortune teller's claims of spirits and this whole murder debaucle. It seems unusually hush-hush." Another target, and another pull of the trigger.

Actions: 3/3

1. Martin casts his [Backhand] ability and simply slaps the hammer thrown at him into the dirt.
2. Points at the hammer, saying Caeser "Dropped it"
3. Goes back to playing the Marksmanship game.



 
Watching of Reflection

Ambient Vibes

Languages: Common | <Bestial>
Titles: Beast [Mundane], Hunter, Guardian
Total Amount of Points: 1
Interaction: Develius Develius NachoGod NachoGod Elijay Elijay Karcen Karcen
​
Watching awakened with a splitting head-ache as it awakened, upon a surface it never recognised before, and wearing something it had never worn before. As it tried to stand up it swung back and forth for a moment to get its own footing still, looking around the room it could only recall the fact that it had drunk the blood of some cow who must have eaten too many apples, because all that happened afterward was being plastered out of its mind.

It couldn't even recall where or how it had gotten this strange outfit from which it was wearing at this moment, nor where it even was at all really. And it genuinely wasn't certain whether this feeling had left its body yet. Most of the folk who were standing around here were unrecognisable to itself, all but Hunter who it had seen once or was it twice now? Earnestly it didn't know anymore, the quantum quangle of when what happened on which timeline was far too much for it too understand or ponder when it was half drunk out of its mind still. Due to the fact its only diet as of yesterday consisted off the blood of a crazed cow.

All Watching could think of to do was act as if there was nothing amiss at all, and deal with the consequences later. As it slowly left the room and headed for whatever noise which jostled it awake after gathering its satchel with its belongings.

Only to come upon a grizzly sight of a man who had hanged himself? Or been hanged? Honestly Watching barely could track things for itself at the moment, and was certain on how much it could trust the things it was seeing at this moment as standing before it was a talking skeleton who was talking to itself? But then it was certain it heard another voice as well. Earnestly, it had no intention to even question how much of what was happening around it was real or not. Nor had it ever read a detective novel in its life, so it had no clue how to even approach a suspected murder of which it had no understanding, potentially caused by some haunted spectre by the words of a cooky woman who was handing out talismans like some doomsday believer handing out pamphlets for her cultish religion.

Watching to leave the scene of the crime and the horrified guests to themselves, as it began to wander out for a breathe of fresh air. As it wandered outside it looked towards the various folk who were still openly hosting festival games during a horrible crime scenario it couldn't even think upon any commentary, as it was too drunk to deal with that sorta business, rather it walked over towards the funny bell game looking contraption where various people were standing around to give it a try of its own. It was a little crowded, as a man wearing odd looking mask which it had no understanding of its origins of, a woman who wore a very revealing outfit, and the generic background npc dude were all gathered here.

Before slowly waddling across the general estate area which had been so lovingly decorated with various Halloween iconography, a festival which it certainly had never heard of before, but one it heartily accepted. Even if it couldn't actually drink a pumpkin spiced latte sadly. Walking over towards the guest houses due to whatever had been said before about someone apparently walking over here, as it looked across the grounds to see if there were any remnants of traversal from the last night close to the gnarled tree and there still left using its [Survival {F} and Perception {F}] skills. To get an approximation of the foot size to see if any matched up in the dirt or grass.

Looking quite silly as it did so, considering it could only half stand straight, and wobbled back and forth as it leaned down to investigate the various areas.

Summary:
- Witness the scene of the crime, and accept the talisman
- Play a game of strength half drunk
- Attempt to distinguish any foot sizes left by the guest houses and gnarled tree where the hanged man stood to see if any of them actually matched up in particular using [Survival {F} and Perception {F}].​
 
Last edited:
Aqua
FEiqA9MX0AEnbtq.jpg

Location: Fortune telling tent
Moonberry Moonberry​
M-M-M-Murder!!!!!

The sight of the dead man hanging on the tree made her faint for the next 5 minute and she woke up to a servant fanning her on a couch. It seemed like the host tried to keep the festival going while the fortune teller was distributing talismans. Aqua took the trinket, hoping it would really help with warding the whatever supernatural entity nearby.

After helping herself with some candy and water, the girl meekly joined the crowd. She's still unsure about the murder though so she kept her distance away from other people as she entered the fortune teller's tent.

"Welcome."

The fortune teller greeted her. There's many divination instruments here like crystal balls, bone shard, pendulum and many more, but for Aqua she pulled out a deck of card and shuffled it. She would then distribute them into several pile of cards, each consisting of three cards before saying to Aqua.

"Pick three, from whichever pile. Know that each of your choice will close several opportunities, but it also might reveal another one."

The teller's words made Aqua nervous. She gulped down hard as she was seriously trying to calculate which car would be best for her until she realized that overthinking this wouldn't do her anything good. It's a purely chance-based game. She choose to believe in the heart of the cards.

"Draw," She picked up the first card. It had the depiction of a figure that was clearly a grim reaper. Aqua gulped nervously when she saw that.

"Draw," She picked another one, this one had the picture of a jester on it. The jester was laughing in front of a mirror. The fortune teller raised an eyebrow, though it was aimed more at Aqua's repeatedly saying draw rather than from the cards she got.

"D-d-d-draw," Her last card was simply a mostly blank card with faint rough sketch of a large circle in the middle. Aqua didn't know the meaning of the cards so she just stared at the fortune teller hoping she would say something. Instead the teller simply scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to her alongside two festival tokens before ushering her out of the tent.

Only then Aqua remembered that she didn't actually come into the tent to get her fortune read, she just wanted to ask her about what was happening within the Valenwood Estate. Entering the tent again would be awkward so maybe she would try to ask the fortune teller tonight. Though, since she already get it, might as well also read her fortune. Aqua unfolded the paper and read the result: Great Blessing.

It's an omikuji!!!

Talk with the fortune teller
 
Last edited:
Titles:

[Fae, Mundane], Text Colors: #ffcf30, #e60606

“It's Showtime!!” - 1/1, cooldown not active

“One Hell of a Show!” - 1/1, cooldown not active

“We Have a Deal to Make” - 1/1, cooldown not active

Mentions: | Irihi Irihi |

Total Amount of Points: 2
​

The guests to Lord Valenwood's humble home scattered to the four winds, some finding refuge in the games for now while others pursued their own agendas. For now the spirit seemed to abate… or find contentment in concealing itself. The fae devil chuckled under his breath. He found the entire concept more amusing than perhaps most of his fellow party-goers. The very notion that an incorporeal being was taking their bodies and using them for heinous acts of murder… he openly laughed in broad daylight.

He'd have done such artistry regardless.

With a twirl of his cane, he barely noticed movement coming from the fortune teller's booth. The talisman shifted in his pocket as he went rigid. He didn't much enjoy physical contact, let alone something so terribly sudden. He instinctively backed away quickly, his back bristling for an instant before settling with a cough.

He adjusted his suit… then curiously bent at the waist to investigate the instigator of this little meeting of theirs.

“Why hello there,” he remarked with an inquisitive trill, the darks of his eyes focusing the animalistic yellow into vivid rings.

He extended a hand in greeting, the lithe limb ending in long fingers waiting for reprisal.

“Bad luck with a palm reading? Don't worry, something horrible happened with mine as well,”

He never told the truth. He never lied.

“She told me I would live a long, happy life,”

He stifled another impending surge of joy.

“I just had to stop hanging out under oak trees,”

He didn't allow the joke to settle for long, but his sharp smile twitched.

“Oh, where are my manners? My name is Mephisto. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance,”

With a tap of the tip of his cane, his hat vanished in a puff of red smoke. He bowed his head. Something inside of his neck responded with a wet crack.
 
Last edited:
Watching of Reflection

Ambient Vibes

Languages: Common | <Bestial>
Titles: Beast [Mundane], Hunter, Guardian
Total Amount of Points: 3
Interaction: Moonberry Moonberry slifer37 slifer37
​
It continued to hobble across the estate having spent its time around the gnarled tree which gave of such bad vibes, which made one wonder why honestly it shouldn't just be cut down already with expedience, and the guest house where it also investigated the 'additional scene of the crime' due to the fact apparently somebody had been seen outside at night during the time of the murder nearby. Even though that's generally where it was staying as well, and for a fact could have been it as well due to how drunk it had been to recall close to nothing.

Yet it need not think upon such more then that, after all, how much could it honestly solve in said situation. Rather it was now priority to hyper-fixate on something small and meaningless, yet horrifying when given context of what the situation actually was like. As it wandered over towards the goldfish booth, and saw these many goldfish small and underfed as well as without any source of entertainment or enrichment swimming in huge quantities. Being fished up to suffocate out of the water briefly to be put into a plastic(?) bag or some other smaller container to be housed in till it likely died there or else how. And so of course it should participate all the same, if not to free them from whatever their fate must be like if they were to suffer here for longer.

It looked towards the other person standing at the booth briefly, wondering if just maybe they had the same intent as it, or if they just wanted some cool ass goldfish pets. As it began to scoop adamantly.

Purpler is going to be going outside tonight, try to see if it perhaps can actually get something to eat, due to the fact... well it certainly can't participate in the pie eating or apple snatching contests. If the apple is to be bitten into with your mouth when diving into the barrel.
 


Alister Marrok
Point booster: Attentive Student
Languages: Common | ^Ancient Hermese^
Mention:
Location: LT4 Haunted House
Point Tally: 1

Alister despite knowing of the festival with great advance had trouble arriving at the festivities, between his attempts to further his relationship with Inola, or serving Lady Caelia, Alister had little time to prepare for such an event, so he had to do it haphazardly in a hurry while arriving to the site with a stagecoach along with a few other people interested in the festival. Truthfully he wanted to invite Inola to come as well but she turned out to be busy the next few days so he came alone. So when he did arrive the first day he arrived quite late, as most people were already huddled inside the mansion to socialize there and sleep.

So Alister entered the mansion and socialized with few people, forming connections is a must, especially if you work under a noble, after all, your connections are their connections. So he spoke with a few fellows of high standing and danced with a few ladies while being fully respectful of their ladyship as he already had only one woman in his heart Inola, ending the night by making a few drinks for the guests as he made himself one, and drinking with them. Finally drunkenly stumbling into his room of C03, and falling asleep on the nearest bed.

His awakening the next day wasn't exactly nice, between the screams of someone outside and his hangover he didn't know which was worse at the moment, but he had to see what was happening. Yet he had to freshen himself up before doing so, so after changing his clothes and freshening himself up a little he came down to witness the scene of some manor staff taking a hanged man down from a noose upon an old oak. Upon closer inspection of the hanged man, Alister arrived at two conclusions, the scene resembled the visage on the Hanged Man card from the Tarot Deck, second of all he remembers drinking with the man the night prior to... THIS.

Alister graciously received the talisman from the Fortune Teller lady, after all, if someone knew how to handle spirits it ought to be one such as her, Klein after all started as a fortune teller and arose to a being with a godly status. Albeit Alister wanted to go for a little fortune telling himself he saw a little lady enter the tent of the fortune teller, and as he knew those take time so he settled to first go with the nearest attraction to him, which just happened to be the haunted house. Alister wondered what horrors they could have prepared for him inside of it.

As Alister entered the haunted house he could feel a bit of dread surround him, his heightened and animalistic senses were working in overdrive because of the various scents and incense burning in the vicinity, what did not help Alister in the slightest was that the few props that did harbor some reaction in Alister struck his very old wounds in the heart. From the sight of a half-rotten child who he used to raise, through his friend Klein losing his mind, to his previous lord Medici losing his life. Although most of it was just in Alister's head, but the resemblance of the various props, actors, and illusions cast by the staff of the haunted house didn't help him in realizing it. Thankfully he knew that those things were in the past so he didn't exactly freak out, though his fur was starting to spike out as his heartbeat increased slightly.

Alister will go grab a bottle of wine try and drink it with lord Alistair with an excuse of "The two people sharing similar names, should carry their burden together. Before going to his own room to sleep after drinking with him and talking, till either of them get sleepy.
 
Last edited:
IMG_0455.png 🎤KEIRCEY🎤
INTERACTIONS: Moonberry Moonberry
—
After the murder and the receiving of the Talismen Keircey found it difficult to just ignore the fact someone was permanently shut off that night though he would try to play a game to distract himself. He’s seen to much red oil spilled another life never powering back up again. Shame he had to see it again. The construct made his way to the goldfish scooping game after a brief conversation with the person running the booth he takes the scooper and attempts to scoop up a gold fish
—
Staying up all night from not being able to rest and not really needing it.
Actions:
1:go to ST3
2: play the game​
 



“Ugh, it’s one of those half-breed abominations.” Irihi observed, to herself, disregarding this things’ initial attempt at humor and introductions. Irihi had forgotten--as she sometimes did when distracted--that mortals in this world could hear her voice. For years she’d been mute to living ears, and the habit of unfiltered snark was one she was slow to correct.

Who am I kidding? One she was unwilling to correct give up.

She made a dusting-off motion, as if to remove Mephisto’s filthy essence from her person, and examined the pinstripe-suited man creature more closely. ”Hm… that’s an interesting curse. She opined. “Kind of.” Irihi made a motion with one hand, as if summoning something, though nothing really appeared; it was one of myriad magics they had scoured from her mind, hoping the loss might hold her back, might slow her down.

Even so, the shadow of the summoned athane--or perhaps it was just a feeling she projected--remained. Mephisto would perhaps feel the feather-light prickle of a dread scythe hooking his shoulder, drawing him closer to the elfwitch.

For her own part, Irihi leaned in rising on tiptoe and still having to tilt her delicate chin upward--for this one was quite a lengthy specimen, even with head bowed--until her cold sallow-skinned cheek was next to Mephisto’s jaw. She seemed to scent him, and as she did so--just like the half-felt illusory blade, there was a ghostly tug at her inhaled breath. It was little more than an imaginary zephyr, but his soul--and the soul of the thing that had its claws buried deep in his being--felt the barest tug toward a bottomless blackness. A whispered a single word rode on a corpse-cool exhalation into the man’s ear, “...pity.” before the elfmaid receded, regarding him with a narrowed violet gaze.

Her lips quirked as tongue ran over teeth and she swallowed in an unconscious pavlovian response, even though Mephistos’ souls remained firmly anchored to the mortal coil. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself, Mephisto?” She demanded. “My name is Irihi, and I am wondering why you have” unwisely ”chosen to trouble me.”

That it was Irihi who had run into Mephisto, that the man been genteel enough not to mention the collision, and that a monster person who attempted to eat smell another’s essence was likely the troubler and not the troublee, received as much consideration as sane thoughts usually did from Irihi.
Mephisto Mephisto
 
TRAVERSING SOMEWHERE

The night before...​

Amidst the joyous chatter and festive atmosphere the distinct sound of electric motors and hydraulics could be faintly heard, the sound coming from the prosthetics well hidden underneath the warm clothing of a figure wandering through the crowd. As Lauren wandered around her gaze was ever shifting as she took in the scenery of the estate, moving from stall to stall to see what was available. Fall festivals were by far her favorite ones to visit, though they were a little less favorable now due to her prosthetics making it harder to stay warm. She made sure to grab plenty of food and drink to enjoy herself, snacking on some goodies she had bought before sitting down on a bench to properly enjoy the atmosphere. The sight of autumn leaves decorating the trees filled her with a familiarity she had in her previous life, leaning back as she gazed up to the darkening evening sky. Slowly she ate what she had gotten before getting up from the bench, though she quickly felt her stumps become sore as the cold weather and nerve damage started to kick in. Still, she pushed through the pain and threw away her trash, walking over to the first of the festivities she wanted to look through: The Haunted House!

[Dice Roll: 10]

As Lauren strolled out from the Haunted House it didn't seem to have fazed her all too much. She had seen some much more horrific sights that she'd sooner forget than mention aloud, though there was still some elements of the haunted house that creeped her out a little. The jumpscares and decorations were amusing and well made, and now feeling a little tired she contemplated making her way to the guest bedrooms for the night. While she could undoubtedly stay up longer she ultimately decided to catch up on some sleep early, the subtle sense of tension that now faintly lingered amidst the joyful atmosphere perhaps subconsciously coaxing her to rest. She slowly made her way towards the guest houses on the edges of the property, looking around the interior as she pondered about what the main manor itself looked like. Finding her room for the night she slid under the covers and got comfortable, ignoring the creaking and various noises as she soon drifted off into slumber.

Now...​

Lauren woke up feeling awake and ready for another day of festivities, planning to partake in the song and dance that had occurred in the manor the night prior. She didn't fully understand the lives of nobility, but she needed to learn if she could ever hope of gaining their favor. As she readied herself for the way and exited the bedroom to head for the grand hall she found everyone there was... unusually quiet. She recalled the creaking of the manor's walls and believed it could have been either nerves or just restlessness, idly making small talk with a couple of people. She could only keep up the chatter for so long however, as the subtle tension from the previous night was now much more palpable. She was curious if she was one of the few who had actually gotten a good nights rest. Then the nearly ear-piercing scream rang out. Her head immediately turned to where the scream had come from and rushed towards the source, making her way outside to find...
"Wha-" Lauren's words were interrupted by her own gasp as a baffled expression donned on her, feeling any sense of the festive atmosphere completely shattering as her gaze was fixated on the corpse dangling from the tree. She quickly snapped out of her daze and checked on the person who had screamed as more people came out to investigate, her expression quickly giving way to concern with a subtle hint of dread in her eyes. Helping the person who had screamed onto their feet she watched as the Valenwoods tried to calm the crowd, she cautiously looked at those around her... Someone here had clearly killed the man hanging in the tree for whatever reason, and she had concerns that she'd be on the chopping block if she wasn't vigilant. She had been so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice the fortune tellers presence until they were right in front of her, their gaze snapping her out of her thoughts as she accepted the talisman. As much as she wanted to reject the fortune tellers offer, she had a feeling that it could help her potentially find whoever--or whatever--killed the friend of Alistair Valenwood.

Lauren was planning to go to sleep as normal in room TFB7 on the 3rd floor, albeit after reinforcing the door to the bedroom and shutting and locking both windows.
IN ISEKAI HELL
 
Last edited:

842zD4d.png



"CURRENTLY DISGUISED AS 'Torskele'"
Point Tally: 3
Mentions:
| Maverick Six Maverick Six [Martin] | NachoGod NachoGod [Caesar]
​

Somehow, Jeb believed he wasn't going to be recognized by Martin, despite their previous mission together. So when the guy recognized him by his voice - which is pretty unique given the landscape he was in - the gunslinger gave a hearty chuckle as he raised his hands up. "Ahhh why ya caught me red handed-" he jested before proceeding to take his bullseye shot.

Meanwhile, Torskele came knocking in his subconscious. "YOU KNOW THIS HULKING BRUTE?" it asked inquisitively, though in a hardly malicious tone.

"E'yup." he spoke mentally, "Call him a business acquaintance. We be on a bygone quest together a bit ago... do fancy meeting him here of all places."

"WHY DOES HE CALL YOU 'CASSIDY?'"

"It's the alias I went by. Didn't want to give out my real name in the case I got mighty in trouble. I have others for different personas."

"CALL YOURSELF SOMETHING COOLER! LIKE 'IRONSKULL' OR 'GUNRATTLER'! BETTER THEN WHATEVER 'CaSsIdY" IS!"

"Would ya kindly SHUT yer mouth?'"

Upon Martin complimenting his attempt, the gunslinger gave a flash of his boney smile. "Jus' honest work n' skill." he casually replied to Martin, "That be all. And some good eyes ta' boot." he finished with a cheeky chuckle. He was much more relaxed here compared to when they first met, despite the current circumstances which had transpired. Maybe it was Cassidy speaking or a new persona molded by Torskele's influence? Who was to say.

"Well mos' folks here don't use no guns or any o' the sort," Cassidy replied to Martin's admittance to not needing a firearm, "So I reckon it aint too much of a surprise... though given yer make up perhaps it be just a tad bit confuzzlin. Like don't you got that big' ole iron staff that lets ya do that uh... magic n' stuff?" Martin again emphasized his claim by pointing to his head, which the costumed sorcerer nodded. "E'yup." he confirmed, "Saw it in action back there- Mighty impressive in flubbin' ole' Issac's laws just by thinkin' about-"

Before he'd even finish, an accented shout roared at them to look out in... the hell, was that Spanish? "PORE-QAY?" Jeb retaliated in confusion with butchered pronunciation. He knew a bit of rough spanish from his southwesternly experiences. Seeing a hammer rocketing towards them, the gunslinger's initial instincts was to side-step and dodge or hit for cover - though it would be Martin who'd save his sorry boney-ass. With a single word, the man effortlessly backhanded the hammer away with casual disregard before it simply fell to the ground with a thud.

"Sweet mother o'..." Cassidy mumbled as he got back to his senses, "That was a MIGHTY close one Marty-"

Torskele seemed to be rather unamused by this sudden display of magic. "NYEEEE... THAT BRUTE'S TELEKINESIS IS CHILD'S PLAY!"

"Mighty useful if ya ask me." Jeb retorted with a roll of his eyes.

"BACK IN MY DAY," the sorcerer interrupted bluntly as he took the center stage, "I COULD DISMANTLE AND MOVE ENTIRE CASTLES WITH MY MIND ALONE! WITH A MERE THOUGHT ENTIRE ARMIES FELL TO MY FEET AS I TOOK CHUNKS OF THEIR KEEP AND PLOPPED EM ON THEIR HEADS! NYEHEHEHEHE- THEIR SCREAMS OF AGONY WERE ABSOLUTELY DELIGHTFUL - MUSIC TO MY EARS!"

"Like I've seen ya do that-" Jeb sarcastically replied, totally not believing his claims but not wanting to get into an argument with him currently.

Seeing the culprit, Jebidiah immediately recognized him as one of those fancy "luchadors" from Mexican culture. Something he hadn't seen much back home in the states, but he had heard of the term before and seen posters of such wrestling fights and events happening in the Southwest. Thankfully, Martin took the accident pretty well and gave him the hammer back. "Erm, deh na-dah, sin-yer!" he replied back to the interesting fella with more of his butchered Spanish, before turning back to Martin and the game at hand.

Martin reminded him of the fortune teller that was present during the initial gathering, who claimed of spirits haunting the premises and could be responsible for the death of Rowan. Also the fella who gave him and the others a talisman to supposedly ward off the evil ghost. The gunslinger simply shrugged, before revealing more of his Cassidy side with the [Monster Slayer] business side, "Honesty reckon it could be both ways," he replied semi-casually as he thought about their options, "On a night like this, one may suspect this all be tomfoolery in action. An elaborate ruse of all things. Just to give that sense o' immersion or whatnot."

He begins to reload his six-shooter, before aiming his pistol at the targets, while he continued speculating.

"Though given the circumstances, I do reckon some ACTUAL foul play to be involved. Whether it be an actual ghost or an elaborate ruse, who's to say at this point. Best we keep our big ole' peepers out n' about for any funny business. On nights like these, my friend, ANYTHING can happen."

BANG!

ACTIONS:
  1. Talks to Martin.
  2. Attempts to dodge incoming hammer; gets saved by Martin.
  3. Plays Marksmanship game again.
TLDR:
  • Jeb talks to Martin.
  • Torskele asks why Jeb was called Cassidy.
  • Jeb reacts to the hammer throw; thanks Ceaser in broken Spanish.
  • Torskele thinks Martin's abilities are 'child's play' compared to his peak performance; Jeb thinks it's hog wash.
  • Jeb makes his own opinion on the FT's statement; could be an elaborate act or really something fishy going on.
  • Jeb takes a shot at the target.
 
Last edited:
Watching of Reflection

Ambient Vibes

Languages: Common | <Bestial>
Titles: Beast [Mundane], Hunter, Guardian
Total Amount of Points: 5
Interaction: DarkKitsune DarkKitsune

Watching was quite glad to see quick and easy catch of the goldfish, as it luckily meant not prolonging the suffering for the goldfish for very long, but it had still very far to go. Yet it seemed to have companions by its side who were assisting its justice with fervor. Something it was glad to see, as it nodded towards Keircey. It had not seen them yet, or if it did it could not recall such at all even at this moment. But it certainly appreciated them.

So it began to scoop these poor goldfish once more, in its best efforts to set them free out of this hell hole of a wooden prison.​
 


Alister Marrok
Point booster: Attentive Student
Languages: Common | ^Ancient Hermese^
Mention:
Location: ST5 Fortune Teller
Point Tally: 3

Alister tried to avoid the squabbling people, especially when he smelt a very tasty bone nearby. Alister might be a beast-man, but even to him sometimes his animalistic traits would take control, and honestly he didn't want to try and see if he currently had the willpower to overpower his animalistic side when such tasty bones just rattled themselves in his vicinity ready to be bitten through and devoured.
Alister slapped himself with both of his hands to clear his head up a bit and quickly walked through the little crowd trying to think where he wanted to go, then he remembered he wanted to go to the fortune teller, sadly the scent of those tasty bones grew stronger when he went in that direction but he had checked his fortune, even if it was only to see how the lady compared to Klein in those arts.

As Alister came inside the fortune teller's tent his sensitive nose smelt a rather nice and calming incense, it even drowned out the smells from outside the tent, which was just what he needed right now.
"Welcome welcome." Said the fortune-telling lady, a beautiful lady one could say, sure somber and a bit grim but everyone had their vices, albeit his was Inola.
The tent looked like a proper fortune teller's tent, crystal balls, bone shards, dice with symbols, pendulums, chickens wishing bone, but most of all a deck of tarot cards. That was what Alister wanted, and the fortune-telling lady as if she could tell the future just looked at Alister and took out the tarot deck and started shuffling the cards.
"I wish to know the fate of my mentor, my sworn enemy, my friend, and of my own future.."
The fortune teller gestured for him to sit down on a stool before laying out four cards in front of him, one for each person in question, all facing the table.
"Whenever you are ready turn them over." She said softly as if not expecting him to do it swiftly.

And yet without any hesitation Alister turned over the first card while thinking of his lord Medici, the card showed an upright Tower.
"Upright Tower, harbors madness, despair and most of all destruction. I'm sorry to say but they might be dead or at least not themselves anymore."
Alister took a deep breath, saddened at the news but at least it gave him clearance in the heart, so with that in mind he overturned another card while thinking of Amon his enemy, the card turned out to be Death, the grim reaper itself.
"Upright Death. Something of theirs is dead or lost forever, their project, a scheme of theirs, or maybe even their own life."
Alister was happy that whatever Amon was planning back in their homeworld was thawed even if it was his death that did it, so a little smile cracked itself on Alisters face. He then turned the third card thinking of Klein his dear friend, it was the judgement.
" Ah upright Judgement. This fellow of yours must be quite lucky, he escaped death countless times despite his hardship, people restricting him, and anything else."
Finally came the last card, Alisters card. Honestly Alister was nervous a bit, so far the fortune teller was correct about the fate of those he asked about, so what would his own bring. But he mustered the courage and turned over the card without looking at it, till the fortune lady explained it.
"The Fool. A new strat with limitless potential, neither good nor bad. The whole future is for you to decide for yourself."

Alister at the news burst out into a small fit of laughter, out of happiness. After a minute or two he finally calmed down and said to himself and partially to the fortune teller.
"Thank you dear lady. It seems that i am still in the good graces of The Fool. I hope whatever you pray to also takes care of you as well as the fool does to me."
The fortune teller lady simply smiled and passed Alister a slip with 2 points written on it, which he tucked into his shirts pocket and as he walked out and towards his room he sang under his breath a little tune in his mothertongue.
^"I pray for your attention, i pray for you to listen, The Fool that doesn’t belong to this era, The Mysterious Ruler above the gray fog, The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck, I pray for your loving grace, I pray for you to grant me a good dream, Moon flower, a herb belonging to the red moon, a fingered citron, a herb belonging to the sun, two sides of the same coin for you to take as offerings."^


Alister will go grab a bottle of wine try and drink it with lord Alistair with an excuse of "The two people sharing similar names, should carry their burden together. Before going to his own room to sleep after drinking with him and talking, till either of them get sleepy.
 
Last edited:

Demeter was a bit torn by the sight of a corpse dangling from that tree.

The corpse itself wasn't all that unusual. These were the kinds of things you saw often as a soon-to-be professional adventurer. It was more the implications of the body, and what might happen if it were ignored, that dampened her mood. Half of her was compelled to go on a ghost hunt and try to root out the monster who'd done this. That's what a good adventurer would do in a situation like this, after all. Though, if she were being honest...

...the other half just wanted to turn a blind eye to it and play and enjoy the Haunted Festival without a care in the world. And that half was winning out quite a bit as she surveyed the fairgrounds that she might not've had the chance to explore if she actually took the time. The Haunted House. Delicious Pies. Goofy folks sticking their heads into a pool of water to grab apples. Mmmmmmm....

Pffft, It's not like the anything else would happen if she just played a few games first.

Pushing concerns about the recent homicide out of her mind for what would probably be the greater portion of the day, Demeter caught sight of John, a man in a bird costume and a lizard in a... lizard costume swinging mallets and raced on over immediately. Whether she was drawn more by the colorful costumes of the group or the fact that she got to smack something full-strength with a hammer was debatable. Either way-

"I got next!"

As soon as she got her hands on the mallet she'd wind back just a smidgen too far and bring it down with as much force as she could muster.
 
IMG_3290.jpeg
Mentions
Develius Develius Maverick Six Maverick Six Karcen Karcen Elijay Elijay
Gwen_Temi Gwen_Temi

Caesar would let out a sigh of relief as the man swatted the hammer aside grateful that his shame would not be accompanied by another’s pain. Still feeling ashamed though not wanting to be rude he would force his stride to appear confident as he approached the two men…or at least he was sure both were men? One seemed to be dressed as Skeletor from the he-man cartoons he watched on television as a child. Odd, but not moreso than the mans voice, he sounded straight out of a western. Was there no end to the oddities of this world? “Thank you seniõr my apologies…gluttony was my undoing. Luckily you keep good company.” he would say speaking to jebediah but gesturing towards Martin his eyes going back and forth between the two. He would take the hammer and heft it onto his shoulder with minimal effort giving the two a slight bow of his head before returning to the strength game.

Passing the hammer to the Young Dryad who was next in line he would give a nervous but warm smile to her along with the hammer his gaze shifting to John as he said. “I am sorry, My hands were…greasy.” He would say making a point to wipe the handle of the hammer off on his cape before stepping back to give The Dryad room to swing. As he made space he would hear a Playful toned woman speaking to him. Turning his jaw would nearly fall open. A sister? Here? He would think to himself in shock before snapping himself out of it “Yes Sister, you are correct…perhaps i should. What would you suggest? Perhaps you can tag along and give me some pointers?” he would say a hint of latin accent bleeding through his Common speech.

Summary:
Caesar would apologize to Jeb And Martin, retrieve the hammer, Pass it to Demeter after wiping it off. Apologize to john, Then follow the sisters advice to try a different game offering her the chance to select one for him and join him in playing.
​
Caesar would aim to spend his night mingling and trying new games, enjoying the festivities and attempting to make new friends. Those he meets that seem friendly he would endeavor to get to know better.
​
 
Last edited:
Titles:
Adelhein: [Isekai], [Human], [Adept Magus] Color - #e60e0e
Saber Alter: [Isekai], [Construct], [Adept Swordsman] Color - #470c85
Gilgamesh: [Isekai], [Construct], [Adept Mage] Color - #d3fa5c

Moonberry Moonberry Spoiled Bread Spoiled Bread
​
Corruption

0%


Saber Alter's Influence

15%


Gilgamesh's Influence

5%


The young Adelhein had decided to pause his scholarly pursuits, his curiosity piqued by the Fall Festival taking place in the Valenwood estate. With guests from across the continent in attendance, it was inevitable that something noteworthy would happen, and he was determined to witness it firsthand.

Gilgamesh, standing beside him, scoffed lightly. “These celebrations amuse the common rabble,” she said, her voice haughty. “But occasionally, there are worthy spectacles even for kings.” Her golden eyes flicked over the festival grounds, her presence commanding as ever. She smirked, almost as if daring the day to entertain her.

Saber, on the other hand, walked in silence, her cold, piercing gaze fixed ahead. She offered no immediate opinion on the festival, her dark aura contrasting sharply with the festive mood surrounding them.

The sudden blood-curdling scream that pierced the morning air shattered the tranquility. Adelhein’s expression remained calm, though his eyes flickered with interest. “Tch,” Saber Alter clicked her tongue, irritation flashing across her features as her hand instinctively moved toward her sword. “Fools disturb even the simplest peace with their wails.”

Gilgamesh tilted her head slightly, an unreadable smile tugging at her lips. “Such a crude interruption. Should we see what pitiful mortal has dared to die so ignobly?”

Without a word, Adelhein made his way to the source of the scream, followed closely by his companions. His crimson eyes narrowed as they landed on the lifeless body of Ronan Driscoll, hanged from a tree, his face twisted in death. Saber Alter eyed the scene coldly, her lips barely twitching. “Weak,” she muttered. “To die like this... disgraceful.”

Gilgamesh, meanwhile, observed with mild amusement, her golden gaze taking in the scene as though she were watching a play. “How amusing. A strong man felled by the simplest of tools. Such irony. Truly, fate has no respect for the mighty.”

Adelhein showed no particular emotion either, though the fact that someone had been hanged was certainly cause for concern. Tapping his chin, he regarded the corpse with analytical precision. “This was an accident?” he questioned, his tone sharp. “What sort of accident ends up with someone with a noose around their neck?” He directed the question to Lord Alistair Valenwood, crossing his arms as he shook his head slowly.

Gilgamesh chuckled softly beside him. “Accident? How droll. I’d say this is the work of something far more deliberate, wouldn’t you?” Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she continued to watch the proceedings with detached amusement.

When the fortune-teller spoke up, mentioning spirits, Gilgamesh’s eyes briefly flickered with interest before her expression returned to one of indifference. “Spirits are such fickle things,” she remarked. “Barely worth my time.”

Saber, meanwhile, said nothing, but her darkened gaze briefly turned toward the fortune-teller, as though weighing her importance.

Adelhein accepted the talisman offered to him by the fortune-teller with a curt nod. “Thank you for this talisman. Let’s hope its magical energies are as strong as they can be,” he said, placing it around his neck.

As they moved on from the scene of the hanging, Gilgamesh strode confidently ahead, her tone playful. “Come now, let’s see what other amusements this little festival holds. Perhaps something more worthy of our attention lies ahead.”

Adelhein decided to check the festival’s attractions, drawn to the fortune-teller’s stall. As they approached, he noticed a blue-haired girl already drawing her luck from the attraction. She drew the final card, all three hinting toward good fortune.

“Nicely done,” Adelhein complimented, stepping forward next. “Seems like the Arcana is on your side today.” He drew his own three cards, anticipation brewing beneath his composed exterior.

Saber stood silently beside him, arms crossed, her expression one of indifference. “Fortune means little in the face of strength,” she muttered, glancing briefly at the cards but not truly caring for their outcome.

Gilgamesh chuckled once more, watching over Adelhein’s shoulder. “Fortune? Perhaps. But even fate bends to the will of a king.” Her grin was sly as she continued to observe the proceedings, clearly entertained by the events unfolding before them.

Move to ST5 to draw his luck at the Fortune Teller
Plans to spend the night at the library at MF8, reading some books.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 4 (members: 0, guests: 4)

Similar threads

Moonberry
Active Fangs of Honor, A Knights Journey
Replies
13
Views
192
Crescent King
Crescent King
Mephisto
Active [On the Border of the See and Widersia, as Far South of Clockhaven as the River Goes] - The Devil's Favorite Holiday
Replies
21
Views
246
Irihi
Irihi
Mephisto
Active [In the Wilderness South of Illyria and Hopefully No Further...] Emergency: Looming Threat, Giant Bandit Kong!!
Replies
6
Views
110
slifer37
slifer37
Rev IX
Active [Hisuzuki - Kuridan] Puppet On The Run
Replies
4
Views
80
Rev IX
Rev IX
Irihi
Active Freshen Up [The See of Chearon - Tea Party]
Replies
14
Views
177
Elvario
Elvario
Back
Top