Shipwreck Valley. A well-known and troublesome location on the fringes of the kingdom proper, a strange relic from the time when the moon fell and the entire world had torn apart, the epynonymous valley a scar eroded by the waters of far too many seas.
Anyone who knew of the strange purple, scarred moon that hovered above the vanishing island of Anexus knew of the cause of such a landmark: two splits in the air itself that were never fully allowed to heal, wounds from the moonfall that rent the fabric of time and space, occasionally overwhelmed by the weight of what they'd concealed and held back that they would tear horribly and unleash a torrential downpour of salty ocean water - and unsuspecting ships, snatched from their homelands - to crash upon the mountains and valley below.
The valley was a lovely green place, flourishing with strange creeping flowers and small drainage streams and pocked by the carcasses of ships from past and present, of ships that had seen the dawn of seafaring and ships that had yet to be understood. It smelled like rotten fish and zinging ozone.
A trip to the valley would no doubt be memorable if one managed to avoid any scavenging dragons and the horrors from nearby forbidden zones, and if one managed to pray to whomever was listening that another ship didn't drop on one's head for the trouble.
One could make a small fortune off the scrap from all sorts of ships from across time and space. Provided, of course, you knew what you had. Or pretended well enough.
Such beastly dangers and the constant threat of unearthly encounters naturally were a perfect place to conduct business that one would rather keep out of the city proper. And Cyril had staked out little spots for such business all over the foothills - and tonight's camp was a bit more accessible than most, opening up to a gentle and grassy slope. The moss around the cave glowed a soft purple, which contrasted rather pleasantly with the dusky oranges and pinks of the night sky, and the ambience of twilight birdsong made for an unusually peaceful evening.
So it was extremely strange when the extraordinarily lanky goat-man, half-crouched over an alembic and a small fire, heard a sudden smattering of small voices outside.
"Souls! Souls, for a soul cake!"
"Trick or treat!"
"Open up, old man, I got EGGS."
The last one was particularly shrill. And with a "what" that was more to himself than anyone nearby, Cyril grunted and clambered to his feet to make his way towards the commotion at the entrance. Did a bl**dy Gate open up right outside? Did Gates even do that?
But instead of Orvidel's goons or some stranded survivors waiting at the mouth of the cave, he was met with...children.
Three of them. Dressed up in very silly costumes.
"Ohohoooo, Keith Richards! That's a good one, guy!" The tallest one laughed, voice cracking, from behind a pasty white, melting death mask.
Cyril hadn't the slightest idea what to say, but he tried anyway.
"What are you-"
"I'm the Scream guy. Ghostface. You know, Scream?" (Cyril only nodded slowly and unblinkingly - "yes, that is a ghost face" - as he attempted to suss out how this could possibly be a trap.)
"I'm Elsa!" chirped a smaller one with bouncy little curls and a sparkling blue dress. "And he's a pumpkin," she added matter-of-factly, pointing to the shortest little human of the trio who clung diligently to her free hand as he stared up at Cyril.
The goat nodded again and rolled his head on his shoulders. "Yes, I can see that. Very cute. Ah...you're probably looking for a treat, right."
"Well, yeah." The ghost-face drawled.
Cyril hoped dearly that there were some child-friendly or appropriate treasures in the cave.
"Right. Give me a moment. Stay RIGHT there, don't go wandering off! Elsa, hold onto that pumpkin, please, he looks like he wants to eat the moss."
---
It didn't take too long before he'd returned to the children with their respective prizes: Three little sugar cookies he'd (very hastily) adorned with frosted Ghostfaces, a tiger's-head filial for the ghostface, a tiara for Elsa, and a little owlbear pull-toy for the pumpkin.
If this was fae mischief, the best thing to do was to play by the apparent rules and not to eat or drink anything they might have in their grinning little bags. He glanced over the shoulders of the three little goblins as he distributed the treats and shipwreck-scavenged prizes, only to spot more people in the distance that seemed to be heading right towards him.
Well, this was going to be a thing, tonight, wasn't it.
"Right, I'll play along. Off you go, go scare the next guy, you can't be hogging it all from the others!"
With a chorus of "thank you"s, the trio grinned and trotted away - to where, he hadn't the foggiest, but they were maddeningly chipper about it. Didn't they know where they were?
---
The last light had winked out over the horizon, though the darkness was very kind to the man's hasty decoration - grinning gourds, glowing shards and cleverly arranged Pepper's ghosts and tricks of the light that could have made onlookers swear a few will-o-wisps were dancing around the area.
The flood of young and not-so-young trick-or-treaters hadn't abated yet - though he'd somehow managed to avoid getting 'egged' so far. None of them had harmed him or each other - though his recently scavenged stash was looking mightily depleted!
Still, he'd play along as he said he would. It was a little fun, after all...
---
[OOC - all are welcome! It's a rare all-ages scene for the holiday! How your character gets here doesn't matter - the veils are thin on Halloween and rules in a fantastical continent are meant to be leaned on, on such occasions!]
Anyone who knew of the strange purple, scarred moon that hovered above the vanishing island of Anexus knew of the cause of such a landmark: two splits in the air itself that were never fully allowed to heal, wounds from the moonfall that rent the fabric of time and space, occasionally overwhelmed by the weight of what they'd concealed and held back that they would tear horribly and unleash a torrential downpour of salty ocean water - and unsuspecting ships, snatched from their homelands - to crash upon the mountains and valley below.
The valley was a lovely green place, flourishing with strange creeping flowers and small drainage streams and pocked by the carcasses of ships from past and present, of ships that had seen the dawn of seafaring and ships that had yet to be understood. It smelled like rotten fish and zinging ozone.
A trip to the valley would no doubt be memorable if one managed to avoid any scavenging dragons and the horrors from nearby forbidden zones, and if one managed to pray to whomever was listening that another ship didn't drop on one's head for the trouble.
One could make a small fortune off the scrap from all sorts of ships from across time and space. Provided, of course, you knew what you had. Or pretended well enough.
Such beastly dangers and the constant threat of unearthly encounters naturally were a perfect place to conduct business that one would rather keep out of the city proper. And Cyril had staked out little spots for such business all over the foothills - and tonight's camp was a bit more accessible than most, opening up to a gentle and grassy slope. The moss around the cave glowed a soft purple, which contrasted rather pleasantly with the dusky oranges and pinks of the night sky, and the ambience of twilight birdsong made for an unusually peaceful evening.
So it was extremely strange when the extraordinarily lanky goat-man, half-crouched over an alembic and a small fire, heard a sudden smattering of small voices outside.
"Souls! Souls, for a soul cake!"
"Trick or treat!"
"Open up, old man, I got EGGS."
The last one was particularly shrill. And with a "what" that was more to himself than anyone nearby, Cyril grunted and clambered to his feet to make his way towards the commotion at the entrance. Did a bl**dy Gate open up right outside? Did Gates even do that?
But instead of Orvidel's goons or some stranded survivors waiting at the mouth of the cave, he was met with...children.
Three of them. Dressed up in very silly costumes.
"Ohohoooo, Keith Richards! That's a good one, guy!" The tallest one laughed, voice cracking, from behind a pasty white, melting death mask.
Cyril hadn't the slightest idea what to say, but he tried anyway.
"What are you-"
"I'm the Scream guy. Ghostface. You know, Scream?" (Cyril only nodded slowly and unblinkingly - "yes, that is a ghost face" - as he attempted to suss out how this could possibly be a trap.)
"I'm Elsa!" chirped a smaller one with bouncy little curls and a sparkling blue dress. "And he's a pumpkin," she added matter-of-factly, pointing to the shortest little human of the trio who clung diligently to her free hand as he stared up at Cyril.
The goat nodded again and rolled his head on his shoulders. "Yes, I can see that. Very cute. Ah...you're probably looking for a treat, right."
"Well, yeah." The ghost-face drawled.
Cyril hoped dearly that there were some child-friendly or appropriate treasures in the cave.
"Right. Give me a moment. Stay RIGHT there, don't go wandering off! Elsa, hold onto that pumpkin, please, he looks like he wants to eat the moss."
---
It didn't take too long before he'd returned to the children with their respective prizes: Three little sugar cookies he'd (very hastily) adorned with frosted Ghostfaces, a tiger's-head filial for the ghostface, a tiara for Elsa, and a little owlbear pull-toy for the pumpkin.
If this was fae mischief, the best thing to do was to play by the apparent rules and not to eat or drink anything they might have in their grinning little bags. He glanced over the shoulders of the three little goblins as he distributed the treats and shipwreck-scavenged prizes, only to spot more people in the distance that seemed to be heading right towards him.
Well, this was going to be a thing, tonight, wasn't it.
"Right, I'll play along. Off you go, go scare the next guy, you can't be hogging it all from the others!"
With a chorus of "thank you"s, the trio grinned and trotted away - to where, he hadn't the foggiest, but they were maddeningly chipper about it. Didn't they know where they were?
---
The last light had winked out over the horizon, though the darkness was very kind to the man's hasty decoration - grinning gourds, glowing shards and cleverly arranged Pepper's ghosts and tricks of the light that could have made onlookers swear a few will-o-wisps were dancing around the area.
The flood of young and not-so-young trick-or-treaters hadn't abated yet - though he'd somehow managed to avoid getting 'egged' so far. None of them had harmed him or each other - though his recently scavenged stash was looking mightily depleted!
Still, he'd play along as he said he would. It was a little fun, after all...
---
[OOC - all are welcome! It's a rare all-ages scene for the holiday! How your character gets here doesn't matter - the veils are thin on Halloween and rules in a fantastical continent are meant to be leaned on, on such occasions!]
She didn't know how she'd gotten there - nor where 'there' was. All she knew was there was something she should do.
[Redacted] wrapped her arms around herself with a visible shudder - it was so cold! Where previously she'd been basking in the two suns, her hot skin was quickly cooling in the fall night, and the air thick with sea spray left the young girl steaming. Literally!
But upon feeling herself, she noticed the outfit - nothing like her own. This one ... The fey girl's hands spread out once more as she looked down, touching up and down all of these beautiful things. Who could these belong to?! [Redacted] was covered nearly head to toe in gold! Fine fabrics that were generously allotted and put together by masterful hands. And these ...
She was a dancer. She was dressed like a dancer! The girl practically vibrated with excitement, her rapidly seeping warmth all but forgotten!
[Redacted] took off, paying no attention to her surroundings. She danced the entire time she went where she was going, amateur but with so much passion! All of that gold jingled, foretelling of her coming - spinning as if somehow seeing nothing before her, as kids are wont to do, she bowled right into a grinning gourde and went tumbling to the ground!!
Laying there before the goat man was a tiny, incredibly frail-looking fey child, elven in appearance, yet skin a puffy white from her short fur standing on end in the cold.
"Ohh... f**k, man..." [Redacted] muttered as she rubbed her forehead.
[Redacted] wrapped her arms around herself with a visible shudder - it was so cold! Where previously she'd been basking in the two suns, her hot skin was quickly cooling in the fall night, and the air thick with sea spray left the young girl steaming. Literally!
But upon feeling herself, she noticed the outfit - nothing like her own. This one ... The fey girl's hands spread out once more as she looked down, touching up and down all of these beautiful things. Who could these belong to?! [Redacted] was covered nearly head to toe in gold! Fine fabrics that were generously allotted and put together by masterful hands. And these ...
She was a dancer. She was dressed like a dancer! The girl practically vibrated with excitement, her rapidly seeping warmth all but forgotten!
[Redacted] took off, paying no attention to her surroundings. She danced the entire time she went where she was going, amateur but with so much passion! All of that gold jingled, foretelling of her coming - spinning as if somehow seeing nothing before her, as kids are wont to do, she bowled right into a grinning gourde and went tumbling to the ground!!
Laying there before the goat man was a tiny, incredibly frail-looking fey child, elven in appearance, yet skin a puffy white from her short fur standing on end in the cold.
"Ohh... f**k, man..." [Redacted] muttered as she rubbed her forehead.
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