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4.1 Event
4.1 Event Plotting
OOC announcements
Welcome to cycle 4! Wellstone got a facelift, trading in the hot and dry for the cool and damp. While a nice reprieve from the desert, the lush forest comes with its own trials...
There will be no event post on the main comm. Instead, make your own logs to include these prompts, and any other prompts you want to add. There will be a mini-event log mid-month.
Use the happenings form to report on what your character’s been up to! Did you break something? Did you get into a screaming match in the middle of town? Spill the tea! Everyone’s thirsty for gossip.
Post any bulletins to the bulletin board.
Fill out as much or as little of this form as you like:
New this month
At the Staywell
Breakfast is laid out every morning in the dining room, with a spread of breads and cheeses and pastries. All taste perfectly fresh, and are warm to the touch no matter what time you come down to breakfast.Dinner is served more formally, the dining table made with plates and cutlery already laid out. This month, the diners alternate between a feast with a roast vegetables and a ham served with hearty bread; and pies stuffed with meats or vegetables served with a salad.
The General Store
The General Store is full of novelty items themed around the medieval: pens shaped like quills, notebooks shaped like dragons and castles, tiny letter openers shaped like swords, keychains shaped like shields, and more! If you could find it at a renaissance fair, it's fair game (as long as it's useless! No real swords or armor here).Around town
The tavern’s special for the month: A cheesecake covered in chocolate on a stick.The pub is now serving mead, and has its own casks of it behind the bar.
The baths are gleaming and beautiful, at odds with the vibe of town.
When you visit the few other locations in town, you’ll find the employees friendly and welcoming, although they may say some strange things, in addition to the handful of phrases they usually say:
The receptionist: “Welcome, welcome, I hope the rooms are to your liking. Let me know if you need me to build up the fire." Which he won't do, if asked.
Owner of the General Store: "All's well in love and war, ain't it?" And he winks at you.
The bartender: "The sword, eh? Wouldn't go after that if it were me. The forest isn't your friend."
The waiter: “Oh, good! Best to stay inside. It's so chilly out there!” He serves you a slice of cheesecake in your favorite flavor.
The gravedigger: She watches you ominously, if you can find her.
The sheriff: Is drooping in the heat of the baths.
From the stone
Content warnings: potential for impalement & light stabbing
It comes to you first in a dream.
A voice, soundless, booms through your skull. You're floating in formless darkness, staring straight ahead.
You're awake, it says, except you know that isn't true. You know what you must do, it says, but you don't think that you do, actually. You open your mouth to ask, but you can't speak and there's an awful pressure in your head, pressing down on your ears and through your sinuses, expanding and contracting all at once. Your tongue is too thick to speak. Go, says the voice. The darkness around you bursts into green: you're in a forested glade, dappled with sunlight thick and bright enough to taste. A single beam falls through a crack in the trees, lighting up a shining sword thrust deep into a moss-covered stone. You reach for it; your hand is armor-covered and bright.
The voice comes back like a thunderclap, booming through the clearing, just as your fingers curl around the hilt: Find the sword.
You wake up with the smell of ivy in your nose.
From the moment you have this dream, no matter how you may personally feel about Swords and Quests and Tales of Heroes, you'll be struck every now and again with the urge to fling yourself into the dark woods around Wellstone to find the sword. You can go, of course, at any time. If you don't, the urge will get stronger. The dream will repeat more and more often until you find yourself over and wall and in the woods without even really meaning to do that, desperate to find that clearing and that sword. You're sure that if you do, everything will be fixed.
Is there, in fact, a sword?
Of course there is.
It won't be easy to find the glade—the woods are twisting and dark and full of terrors—but it is possible to do. You may come across those same nasty vines from the maze, or brambles that catch your feet. Eyes follow you from the darkness, red-bright, making you feel intensely paranoid the deeper you go. They itch on your skin and under your clothes. Growls and grunts and wild groans echo from the trees around you.
You might get caught in the forest’s own mechanics and get thrown into the maze or back to the start. You might get attacked. Those snarling, growling sounds get louder the deeper you go, and they might just erupt into a pack of—well, wolves, but if you're tuned into the differences you might notice that they're sort of a mish-mash of a bunch of different red-eyed canids: coyotes with wolfish snouts, wolves with brushy red-fox tails, foxes the size of lions with coyote-sharp teeth and painted dog ears wide and swiveling. They'll surround you quickly and attack fiercely, bent on tearing you apart.
But as you get closer to the sword, following a small, easily ignored path that branches off deep in the woods, a chorus of ethereal voices grows louder around you. If you're being chased, the creatures chasing you will fall away, their own voices fading. The chorus crescendos when you step into a bright, dewy clearing. There it is: the sword from your dream, embedded in a stone, shining in a beam of sunlight no matter what time of day you set out or what the weather was like before.
If you’re there with a companion, or several, you will need to decide if who will try to take the sword first. Or, you might try together.
Comment below to see how your sword finding adventure ends! You may try multiple times if you fail at first. You may only succeed once. Let us know if you'd like a mundane failure or if you're open to a horrifying one.
tl;dr:
It comes to you first in a dream.
A voice, soundless, booms through your skull. You're floating in formless darkness, staring straight ahead.
You're awake, it says, except you know that isn't true. You know what you must do, it says, but you don't think that you do, actually. You open your mouth to ask, but you can't speak and there's an awful pressure in your head, pressing down on your ears and through your sinuses, expanding and contracting all at once. Your tongue is too thick to speak. Go, says the voice. The darkness around you bursts into green: you're in a forested glade, dappled with sunlight thick and bright enough to taste. A single beam falls through a crack in the trees, lighting up a shining sword thrust deep into a moss-covered stone. You reach for it; your hand is armor-covered and bright.
The voice comes back like a thunderclap, booming through the clearing, just as your fingers curl around the hilt: Find the sword.
You wake up with the smell of ivy in your nose.
From the moment you have this dream, no matter how you may personally feel about Swords and Quests and Tales of Heroes, you'll be struck every now and again with the urge to fling yourself into the dark woods around Wellstone to find the sword. You can go, of course, at any time. If you don't, the urge will get stronger. The dream will repeat more and more often until you find yourself over and wall and in the woods without even really meaning to do that, desperate to find that clearing and that sword. You're sure that if you do, everything will be fixed.
Is there, in fact, a sword?
Of course there is.
It won't be easy to find the glade—the woods are twisting and dark and full of terrors—but it is possible to do. You may come across those same nasty vines from the maze, or brambles that catch your feet. Eyes follow you from the darkness, red-bright, making you feel intensely paranoid the deeper you go. They itch on your skin and under your clothes. Growls and grunts and wild groans echo from the trees around you.
You might get caught in the forest’s own mechanics and get thrown into the maze or back to the start. You might get attacked. Those snarling, growling sounds get louder the deeper you go, and they might just erupt into a pack of—well, wolves, but if you're tuned into the differences you might notice that they're sort of a mish-mash of a bunch of different red-eyed canids: coyotes with wolfish snouts, wolves with brushy red-fox tails, foxes the size of lions with coyote-sharp teeth and painted dog ears wide and swiveling. They'll surround you quickly and attack fiercely, bent on tearing you apart.
But as you get closer to the sword, following a small, easily ignored path that branches off deep in the woods, a chorus of ethereal voices grows louder around you. If you're being chased, the creatures chasing you will fall away, their own voices fading. The chorus crescendos when you step into a bright, dewy clearing. There it is: the sword from your dream, embedded in a stone, shining in a beam of sunlight no matter what time of day you set out or what the weather was like before.
If you’re there with a companion, or several, you will need to decide if who will try to take the sword first. Or, you might try together.
Comment below to see how your sword finding adventure ends! You may try multiple times if you fail at first. You may only succeed once. Let us know if you'd like a mundane failure or if you're open to a horrifying one.
tl;dr:
- You have a strange dream calling on you to make a quest to find a sword in a stone. If you ignore this call, the dreams get more insistent.
- If you embark on this quest, you must venture into the woods and find a small, unobtrusive path that will lead you to a clearing where you find the sword from your dream.
- Comment below and the mods will roll for your result! It could be great, just okay, or truly terrible.
Drawn to you
Content warnings: encouraged intimacy, emotional vulnerability, altered mental states
The bathhouse is a new addition to town: a gleaming interior at odds with the rest of the run-down buildings, it’s oddly inviting with its moist coyote attendant and plush towels and three dressing rooms. Every night, even in the thick fog, golden light spills through the high barred windows, making it easier to find than anything else.
After three months of very little water, the baths are a real luxury. In sharp contrast to the chill outside, it's warm and cozy, and it smells wonderful: the most wonderful scent you can imagine emanates from the water, enticing you in. It seems to smell different for everyone, too. One person might smell a relaxing cedar while another smells sweet, soft vanilla. Soak your tired muscles and sink into the scent around you.
While you're in the water, it's hard to feel anything but relaxed. Sitting in the water makes you feel vulnerable and open. Suddenly, you're craving company: it would be a shame to just sit here alone, wouldn't it? You're drawn to the people around you, wanting to get closer, to share this experience and maybe a little bit of yourself. The sense of warmth and openness smooths over your pricklier feelings. You feel more open and willing to be close to people: emotionally, physically. Share a hug, a kiss, a secret. It all feels good, even if usually it might feel scary to show the soft, vulnerable parts of yourself.
You can handle the repercussions of that kiss or confession out in the cold fog of morning.
tl;dr:
The bathhouse is a new addition to town: a gleaming interior at odds with the rest of the run-down buildings, it’s oddly inviting with its moist coyote attendant and plush towels and three dressing rooms. Every night, even in the thick fog, golden light spills through the high barred windows, making it easier to find than anything else.
After three months of very little water, the baths are a real luxury. In sharp contrast to the chill outside, it's warm and cozy, and it smells wonderful: the most wonderful scent you can imagine emanates from the water, enticing you in. It seems to smell different for everyone, too. One person might smell a relaxing cedar while another smells sweet, soft vanilla. Soak your tired muscles and sink into the scent around you.
While you're in the water, it's hard to feel anything but relaxed. Sitting in the water makes you feel vulnerable and open. Suddenly, you're craving company: it would be a shame to just sit here alone, wouldn't it? You're drawn to the people around you, wanting to get closer, to share this experience and maybe a little bit of yourself. The sense of warmth and openness smooths over your pricklier feelings. You feel more open and willing to be close to people: emotionally, physically. Share a hug, a kiss, a secret. It all feels good, even if usually it might feel scary to show the soft, vulnerable parts of yourself.
You can handle the repercussions of that kiss or confession out in the cold fog of morning.
tl;dr:
- The bathhouse is open and the water is warm. It smells like your favorite scent in the world, comforting and enticing.
- The baths lull you into relaxation and make you feel vulnerable and desperate for closeness, physical or emotional. You’re drawn to share yourself, body or soul, with the people around you.
memento mori
Content warnings: ghosties
Every night in Wellstone, after the sun sets and the chill that the sun staved off bites at your toes, thick fog settles heavy over the town. It laps at the windows of Staywell Manor, curling in strange patterns against the glass The trees circling the town look like dark soldiers emerging from the mist.
Braving the fog means you'll want to bulk up on warm clothes and a solid mental map of the town, if you've formed one yet, because it'll be very easy to lose your way and end up down some dark alley, and this month, that's not a good thing.
You can certainly hear them: muffled voices echoing down damp cobbled streets; a cut-off scream or a voice raised in helpless anger; sobbing so heartbroken it chills your bones. You can see them, too. A silvery gown flashes, a hand reaches out from the fog, a strange light glints off thick armor and the blade of a sword: ghosts. Lots of them.
Some of those ghostly forms seem familiar. They’re people you know, or think you might know. They might even be you, silvery and translucent. They’re playing out moments in your life, memories that you don’t have: moments of pain, of heartbreak, of joy, of love. Every memory played out by the ghosts has some emotion at its core.
Stay to watch, and the ghosts may stir a memory in you. Or, you may watch a memory that you can’t remember and try to piece it together. Or, you may watch someone else’s, and learn something about their lives.
Or, sometimes, the ghosts you see look just a little odd. They just look like people with sheets draped over them. And they seem to see you, and they wail "ooooOOOOOooooO!" and disappear into the fog.
After the memory plays out, the ghosts disappear into the fog.
tl;dr:
Every night in Wellstone, after the sun sets and the chill that the sun staved off bites at your toes, thick fog settles heavy over the town. It laps at the windows of Staywell Manor, curling in strange patterns against the glass The trees circling the town look like dark soldiers emerging from the mist.
Braving the fog means you'll want to bulk up on warm clothes and a solid mental map of the town, if you've formed one yet, because it'll be very easy to lose your way and end up down some dark alley, and this month, that's not a good thing.
You can certainly hear them: muffled voices echoing down damp cobbled streets; a cut-off scream or a voice raised in helpless anger; sobbing so heartbroken it chills your bones. You can see them, too. A silvery gown flashes, a hand reaches out from the fog, a strange light glints off thick armor and the blade of a sword: ghosts. Lots of them.
Some of those ghostly forms seem familiar. They’re people you know, or think you might know. They might even be you, silvery and translucent. They’re playing out moments in your life, memories that you don’t have: moments of pain, of heartbreak, of joy, of love. Every memory played out by the ghosts has some emotion at its core.
Stay to watch, and the ghosts may stir a memory in you. Or, you may watch a memory that you can’t remember and try to piece it together. Or, you may watch someone else’s, and learn something about their lives.
Or, sometimes, the ghosts you see look just a little odd. They just look like people with sheets draped over them. And they seem to see you, and they wail "ooooOOOOOooooO!" and disappear into the fog.
After the memory plays out, the ghosts disappear into the fog.
tl;dr:
- The fog is thick and dense after dark, making it difficult to find your way around.
- However, in the fog you find shapes, some familiar, and some not, playing out memories that you've lost. The memories are focused on times of great emotions: both good and bad.
- Once the memory plays out in the ghostly forms, the ghosts vanish.
- You can regain up to 3 memory points with this prompt, one per time you interact with the prompt (both if it's your character's memory, and if it's someone else's).
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When John touches the sword, a hole opens up in the ground under him, and tentacles rise up out of the hole and twine around his legs and torso, trying to pull him down into the ground. Oddly, his hand is also stuck to the sword. The tentacles sure seem intent to tear him apart! Might want to get out of there, my guy.
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(if you say no he will simply have to lose the hand, it's fine, he'll walk it off)
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But it's still John pulling the sword so I still encourage spectacular failures.
5 more now
This time, when John goes to pull the sword from the stone, he feels like he's succeeding: it starts to slip free of the stone, only to stop halfway out. If he continues to tug, the stone starts to rumble. If he continues, bits of the stone start to peel off instead of the sword, and pelt themselves at John. If he yet persists, the whole stone gets up as if it's alive and will start rumbling toward him, intent to subsume him in stone.
Failure
The next time John tries to pull the sword from the stone, he can't even get close to it. The glen has turned against him, and as soon as he approaches, the vines start to move and slither slowly after him. When he reaches for the sword, vines flick out to bat his hand away. If he persists, they'll wrap around his wrists and pull him back. If he struggles, they'll pin him against a tree and tie him there. Hope you brought a friend!
Failure
This time when John tries, when he touches the sword, a blood-curdling scream starts. He more he grips the sword and tries to pull it, the louder the yelling gets. It almost sounds like it's yelling his name in anguish, over and over again. If he lets go, it quiets, but it will still be there until he leaves the clearing. If he persists, the sword will not budge.
Failure
Wherever John treads in the clearing, his footsteps leave patches of eyes, sprouting up from the ground in his wake, watching him. Wherever he touches the sword, the same thing happens. They're moist and squishy under his hand. If he persists, the eyes spread down from the point of contact, sprouting five a second until the whole sword is covered, and then the stone, and then the ground.
From the cross guard, drops of blood start to drip like tears from the eyes. Then the rest of the eyes follow suit, crying tears of blood. The sword may be too slick to hold onto, now. An unearthly wailing starts once the sword is awash in blood. If he yet persists, he will start to be buffeted by an unseen force, and it feels like ghostly hands are on him, grabbing at his clothes, tearing at him, trying to hold on and to push him away all at once. The screaming is loud and unending. If he doesn't get out of there, the earth will open up again under his feet and try to pull him to his doom.
Success!
If John does decide to come back after all of that, the clearing is oddly quiet and peaceful. Almost suspiciously so. The chorus welcomes him as ever, the sun gleams on the sword, which looks oddly tempting this time around: whip thin with an intricate swept cross guard and hilt: metal snaking around it to protect the hand, and look pretty nice in the process.
When John reaches for the sword, the chorus gets louder, and this time, when he goes to pull it, it comes free easily. Congratulations, his persistence pays off and nothing terrible happens! The blade is thin and solid, and makes a satisfying whipping sound when swung, moving faster than one would think (giving a +1 to speed of attack). The hilt is comfortable in the hand, and wrapped with a soft, buttery black leather that will form to the hand after some use.