Hallow's Peak is a small farming town located in the outskirts of the Roselian Empire. Every year, during the annual harvest season, a massive celebration is held known as the Summer's Yield. You stir in bed, awakened by the sounds of birds chirping, children playing and builders rushing to get everything ready in time for the festival. Who are you and why are you in this town?
[Meta: I am very bored lmao, play this like a high fantasy dnd-esque story- so elves, dwarves, even tieflings a-okay, but anthropomorphic humanoids, weird tentacle creatures, inanimate objects ehhhh maybe not, ]
Idk if anyone is still subscribed to this thread but if you are, I'm super super sorry for just suddenly ghosting. I'm in college and I'm pursuing an exam based curriculum and have been having internal trial exams so I've been horribly swamped up to my neck in work, today is literally the only day I was able to catch a break in-between papers.
I'll be completely honest and say that by now I've kind of lost what my idea was for the climax of the story at the festival, and I also have my actual board certified exams soon so I unfortunately don't think I'm going to be able to continue this in the foreseeable future.
Once again, I feel extremely sorry for just abandoning this and Im super grateful that you guys latched on to this initially, but I hope you can understand my circumstances and understand why I'm choosing not to continue this. Thank you all so much for rping!
A large gloved hand grabs your shoulder and violently shakes you awake. You look up to see 2 men towering over you, completely blocking your sight. They are both dressed identically in an outfit you can't really recognise. They have large curved iron helmets that obscure everything but their pitch black irises, sat in a sea of yellow. A simple blue and yellow striped cloth tunic is laid over their armour, with a large emblem of a flower sat in the middle of their chests. You now recognise the symbol to be a crest of one of the noble houses in the Roselian Empire, their name escapes you right now but you would recall your father complaining about how the nobles had put all "honest farmfolk" into a position of debt bondage. You can somewhat ascertain that these individuals are guards of some sort but a few things catch your eye...
You notice, oddly enough, that these guards seem to be rather... peculiar. For a start, they don't seem to have any weapons or shields like you would assume a guard would have. The way that they're standing also seems quite... stoic and rigid, almost like they're moving with metal in their bones. Not to be rude either, but these guards have a strong stench emanating from under their masks...
Before you can stare for too long however, the two guards part to reveal a tall, lanky man dressed in very fine apparel. He lifts his crimson bycocket ever so slightly before bending down to meet your gaze, his snake-like blood-red eyes pierce right into your soul, sending a cold chill down your spine.
With a voice as smooth as silver, the strange man asks you, "I'm sorry to disturb dear boy, my party and I appear to be lost. Could you point us in the direction of Hallow's Peak?"
@strange2
A large grin shot across the man's face, "Well indeed, I do beckon 'Strange' men. Some of which wish to keep a low profile," he leans on his arm closer towards you, "but when you deal in secrets, you sometimes forget that there are those who know more than you, Strange." He slyly winks at you and pulls the sleeve of his arm up slightly to reveal a symbol of two intersecting griffons. You recognise it instantly, the mark of a man from the Hybrids.
The Hybrids. An underground organisation that no one truly understands, even it's own members are unaware of the influence it exerts. There was talk that the last Great Pretrian War between the two neighbouring empires was the result of direct meddling by the Hybrids into their domestic affairs, but that's something that most attribute to just being conspiracy. Even now, you still aren't too sure. For the most part, the Hybrids are a non-issue, they have their own moral code and will only cross those who they feel are a danger to progress. Nonetheless, a Hybrid member revealing himself to you is curious to say the least.
"I like you," he leans back in his seat and lays his boots on the table, "I really do."
***"My advice," his face is overcome with sudden seriousness, a dramatic change from his usual cool stupor, "leave town before Summer's Yield... or else you are going to die."
He chuckles, "Well not if I can help it, but I don't know if I can." He picks up his drink and raises his glass to you before downing it. A glass of wine is placed on the table in front of you by the barhand.
@IMTheDrew
As you're making your rounds around the inn, you overhear bits and pieces of conversation here and there. Bringing a glass of wine to the strange traveler, you are suddenly privy to talk of death (read from *** onwards in @strange2's pov to see what you overhear). Again, a feeling of foreboding washes over you, why would there be talk of any harm in Hallow's Peak?
You place the glass of wine down on the table in front of the strange traveler.
Being familiar with Hallow's peak, you make your way into one of few quaint little inns that you've frequented before. The weathered oak sign that reads "The Elve's Widow" greets you like an old friend. As you enter the inn, you're greeted with the smells of succulent roasting hog and sweet mulled wine. The inn seems rather populated today- after all, it's Summer's Yield. Behind the desk stands a short man in simple clothes, smiling at you.
There's a small troupe of bards playing away at their instruments at the corner, getting tossed a couple pieces of spare copper here and there from the other patrons. All the tables are occupied by villagefolk, except one.
A dusty haired, brown-skinned human eyes you from his table. A crossbow seems to peak out from the side of his beige trenchcoat. He downs his tankard of ale and beckons you closer.
@IMTheDrew
It's been a busy day at the inn so far. You've had to service a lot of regulars today. Lots of chat over the upcoming Summer's Yield, excited chatter fills the room as more and more locals start to indulge in a couple of drinks prior to the festivities. A few people of interest have caught your eye however:
Firstly, the small bard troupe that came in was always a relief. It's a rarity to get travellers in a small town like Hallow's Peak. Even better, strangers often bring news about the Empire. Village life can be quite stagnant so it's always a delightful change of pace to have someone (or something) of interest to ponder over. That's part of the reason why Summer's Yield transcended beyond a mere harvest celebration into what is it today.
Then came the "Slinger" (or at least that's what the patrons at the inn called him). A dusty haired human that looked like a charismatic bandit described only in stories and song. He came over to you and asked for an ale, which you handed to him as usual. The Elve's Widow is known for it's strong brew, yet he gulped it down in 3 seconds flat, before requesting for another and making his way to the nearest empty table.
Finally, an interesting man walked through the door. Dressed like duelist, the bright colours of his garb contrasted against the flush grey washed-out colour of his skin. You notice how he surveys the room, before being beckoned by the Slinger. You get a feeling in your gut, unsure if it's anticipation or fear, but you get a feeling you should watch this interaction with a keen eye.
Idk if anyone is still subscribed to this thread but if you are, I'm super super sorry for just suddenly ghosting. I'm in college and I'm pursuing an exam based curriculum and have been having internal trial exams so I've been horribly swamped up to my neck in work, today is literally the only day I was able to catch a break in-between papers.
I'll be completely honest and say that by now I've kind of lost what my idea was for the climax of the story at the festival, and I also have my actual board certified exams soon so I unfortunately don't think I'm going to be able to continue this in the foreseeable future.
Once again, I feel extremely sorry for just abandoning this and Im super grateful that you guys latched on to this initially, but I hope you can understand my circumstances and understand why I'm choosing not to continue this. Thank you all so much for rping!
(There's a small clarification I have to make. The proper Summer's Yield festival starts in the evening, but the town is more lively leading up to it., so there's more sales, travellers, music etc until the festival is complete. Technically all PCs here except for volcanic_xr would know what the festival constitutes, but for narrative purposes I'm going to leave the contents of the festival to be revealed when it actually comes)
The sun beats down on Hallow's Peak, the bolstering heat of the sun permeating the whole town, finding its way into every nook and cranny. There are 3 hours left until Summer's Yield officially begins.
@strange2 and fujiko
(I'll let you two continue on, nice rping btw like if this were D&D i'd give you inspiration now lmao but alas i don't see a viable way here for me to reward both of you)
@volcanic_xr
The crowd parts, people look at you in disgust. You hear screams of unrest as everyone creates a radius around you. Perfectly, a path is created straight from you to this rat-like man. He looks positively scared out of his breeches and just like a rodent he tries his best to scurry away from a raging predator behind him.
A thought crosses your mind "Time to do some pest control."
@Isacassi
The strange grey man leaves with this awkward ginger girl after advising you to try the market for more milk success. The two guards are now carrying the noble away, who is still knocked out cold. It seems like you won't be able to converse with him in this state. There are still 2 other nobles you have to find, you suppose. What do you wish to do?
@IMTheDrew
The Slinger chuckles, "Acting so high and mighty in tripping a pickpocket, yet taking his spoils for yourself? What makes you more deserving of this gold than the boy who's currently going to be behind bars? I'm in no place to comment, if I were in your place I would have acted in a way that would have not given me this opportunity, and I am no saint to be lecturing you on morals. Do what you think is right."
He turns abruptly, "When you have made your decision, I shall follow you regardless of what you choose. I would not be a good kennelmaster if I let my dog out on the loose." He smirks.
Feeling well rested after sleeping on the goose-feathered beds in "The Sweet Cloud", Hallow's Peak's temporary upmarket inn set up to accommodate the well-coined foreigners travelling for Summer's Yield, Vincent and you depart from the inn to take a walk around town. You try to search for your big breakthrough as the both of you navigate the crowded streets. You eventually reach the outside of a much more worn and beat-down part of the town compared to where you're staying. You spot a grey man with a large, red feathered silken hat. Heavily armed but still maintaining the guise of a foppish traveller, he seemed to be talking in a cool manner to two guardsmen who were carrying someone you recognise. After a hard stare, you realise that the unconscious man they're holding up was the Duke of Vestfold's son, one of the few nobility you have met due to your father's relations with the Roselian King. While by no means did you like the pompous noble, you still can't help but wonder how he got himself in this situation. This stranger, however, is very interesting to you, he has exotic apparel from lands that you've only read in books. Perhaps he would help trigger some inspiration.
@volcanic_xr
With an hour to kill before you have to meet your contact, you set out to explore town. Having already filled your belly, you stay away from the inns here and congregate in the more central area of Hallow's Peak. As you're walking through town, a sea of different faces pass you by, all unfamiliar to you... except for one. A squirrelly hunched man seems to have noticed you marching through town and has quickly turned face to pace very far away in the opposite direction. The man is definitely someone you remember from early in your career, when you were much more naive. He hired you for a contract then defaulted on your payment, leaving you without pay despite risking your life for the promise of great wealth. Your blood boils at the sight of him. He breaks into a full speed run, pushing through the crowd. He's getting away!
@Isacassi
(okay i kind of having writing block here lol, can you continue on and mention what you want to do in this situation)
@IMTheDrew
With a huge crash, the boy trips, coins and metals spilling all over the floor from a pocket he had hidden away in the underside of his tunic. The crowd roars in a panic. You hear shouts of "My bracelet!" and "Is that my copper?". With a panic, the valuables on the ground start to get swept up by people passing by, this happens so quickly that there's no way to verify the integrity of the people coming to collect. Within the minute, a townsguard is on the scene and the boy is apprehended, whimpering and crying for forgiveness all the while. As the commotion dies down, you notice a small folded up piece of parchment where the boy fell. Upon examining it, it seems to be a crude drawing of a pile of gold and directions to follow in Hallow's Peak. The trail eventually leads to a big X with the symbol of a snake drawn above it.
You flinch as you suddenly hear the voice of the Slinger behind you, whispering in your ear, "Lesson number 1: There's always a bigger fish."
@strange2
"Yes sire, thank you!" one guard says with tears of both joy and fear in his eyes, "We swear the young Lord will not be doing anything bad again and as soon as he is rested we will send for you." The guards start to approach the unconscious body of the Duke of Vestfold's son and position themselves so that he can be carried comfortably away.
You seem to be warranting some stares from the people in the streets, particularly from one farmer's boy leading his horse, but they are looks of curiosity moreso than malice of any kind.
What catches your attention however is the awkward orange haired girl with large spectacles who seems to be ogling your equipment. Not exactly in your sphere of influence but you do believe she has a relation somewhere, else she would not be as striking to you. But what interests you a lot more however, is the muscular, tall auburn haired man that stands next to her with a protective posture. Plain looking to most, but being a man who works with secrets, you can tell that he hides a few.
The noble seems to whimper in your grasp, barely conscious. The guards examine Antonio Vestfold from afar, making sure that in his current state, he would not be able to keep up with the conversation. One of the guards approaches both of you but keeps a solid distance. He unsheathes his weapon and very slowly places it on the floor to show no ill will.
"Aye, I didn't want to attack ye. Honest. But you've gotta understand, misters, we ain't wanting to be guards, but Lord Vestfold owns the plot of land our families farm in, so its either pledge yourselfs to him or starve. I wanted to take over my Da's land, but instead Lord Vestfold was going to sell it to pay off his son's misdoings."
He leans in as to be closer to both of you but away from Antonio Vestfold and he whispers "So I had to swear servitude to the brat and ensure that I'd stop from getting into anymore trouble. But as you can see, this ain't an easy job for a farmer's boy."
The other one pipes up, "Please don't harm him sirs, we promise we'll keep him out of trouble this time. Our families lives are on the line here."
@IMTheDrew
You get lead out of the inn to a more crowded area of Hallow's Peak. While the town is by no means comparable to a city, there are bits and pieces of the town during Summer's Yield which get more traffic and are more developed, especially the central markets. The both of you stand in the middle of this market.
"Your first lesson should be around here somewhere." the Slinger tells you.
The market was roaring with rage. The stuffed shops forced people into a cluster around you. Vendors selling a smorgasbord of goods were shouting out advertisements, creating a cacophony of overlapping voices. With Summer's Yield, there were exotic scimitar wielding merchants twirling their mustaches, urging people to come buy their wares from strange and foreign lands. There were well-dignified men selling miracle potions which they claimed would cure all manners of ailments. All the stalls were alfresco, trying their very best to grab the attention of the passing crowd of people. Colourful signs, flickering lights (which you presume to be some sort of weak magic acquired by a salesman), juicy deals were all on display in order to garner as many eyes as possible.
While the crowd was having their attention drawn away, you notice an adolescent boy slipping through the crowd, weaving through the gaps seamlessly. He seems to be swiping very gently but swiftly at the waists of the people around him. You quickly deduce that he's a pickpocket. You look back at the Slinger briefly, and he shoots you a look which seems to be asking "What do you want to do in this situation?". It seems like he's giving you full autonomy.
@Isacassi, (you now arrive at the town gates, you can continue our story in the PMs here)
"Impressive," the Slinger says with a smug grin, "most men wouldn't be standing after a punch like that, moreso one from me."
He grabs a chair and spins it so that he is sitting with his arms leaning on the chair's backrest, still looking down on you like you are nothing but a mutt "That is a good question though. I oppose evil but does that make me good? I suppose I should tell you that I'm not going to be able to prove to you that I am 'good'. I can only prove to you that what's evil is so much worse. When it comes down to it, I'd rather be allied with an ******* of a cleric than a necromancer with a sweet tongue."
"My first lesson with you is going to start now. Follow me." He gets up and starts to make for the door, "Don't worry about your lack of funds, because my wrath when you don't follow my instructions is much worse." He slaps a small coin pouch down on the bar table before exiting the inn.
The aching in your body has seemed to have somewhat quelled itself, examining your belly where you were punched it feels somewhat...odd. You lift up your shirt and jerk back in horror to find a small little black tattoo of a puppy right above your bellybutton.
@Isacassi, since you're travelling in the forest, I'm gonna PM you and we're going to have a bit of a personal story about Zakir's trek until you reach Hallow's Peak, just so you get to do stuff while strange and volcanic_xr are posting here.
(okay im going to put you on hold for a bit because your one hour ride through the forest would mess up the timing of everyone else's stories if I continued it)
@IMTheDrew
"Wow," the Slinger chuckled," for someone who was quite the nervous mess less than a minute ago, you sure know how to step out of your means."
"Make no mistake," the Slinger warned you,"I'm doing this for you out of pity and you aren't exactly in a position to be making demands. Don't expect to be given anything else from me."
"But I suppose I can humour you." He crosses the now empty inn to lean on a table in the opposite corner "That man and I were discussing safety. Safety of your town and safety of your life. I take it you've lived here most of your life? You're lucky to be that sheltered from the perils of the outside world. The real world has evil about it, the good slowly find themselves corrupted or dead. There is only strength in unity. That's why, as I tried to make you notice when you were serving me earlier, I have this mark on my arm." He pulls back his sleeve to reveal a tattoo of two intersecting Griffons, a mark of the Hybrids that you previously recognised from urban legends and wives' tales.
"As for my name," he sheathes his hand back underneath his sleeve," you can simply refer to me as 'The Griffon'."
"Don't bother telling me yours-" he crosses the distance between you two in a mere second and delivers a painful unarmed punch to your gut which leaves you reeling on the floor in pain, dropping the dagger that you held.
"-for at this moment, you are nothing but a dog. And I am going to train you like one."
@volcanic_xr(I suggest you PM strange2 about what he wants to do before you write your next post)
"Aye, I can arrange all of that for you." the dwarf replies with a menacing smile on his face," As for right now, I need your help in ridding my inn of some vermin!"
The noble starts fuming and shouts at the top of his lungs, "ANTONIO DE SAILLES VILLANOIS PERICIA VESTFOLD WILL NOT BE DISRESPECTED LIKE THAT! GUARDS GET THESE TWO MEN!"
The two men flanking the noble now approach you, you can see that they appear to be quite young, perhaps inexperienced even, but most definitely not the gristled, hardened guards that Roselian nobles usually have. You could definitely dispatch of them, though you might break a sweat.
As your making these observations, a young brunette boy enters the inn and shouts, "Is there a Vestfold feller here? The lady from yesterday wants to meetcha!"
"I'M NO 'FELLER' YOU SNOTFACED FOOL! GUARDS GET HIM TOO!"
The guards look at each other with a look of confusion as to what course of action they should take.
@strange2 (I suggest you PM volcanic_xr about what you want to do before he continues)
Before the boy enters, you hear the voice of an angry man muffled through the door. The boy looks back at you with a bit of hesitation as he pushes unenthusiastically against the door. You hear the boy shout a few words, which peeves you slightly as you instructed him to find the noble and not announce to the whole inn. Following his announcement though, you hear the same wrathful voice screaming in response. Bingo. If this wasn't the Duke of Vestfold's son, then you can only curse the Gods for placing so many brats on this world.
Your father eyes you cautiously, trying to see if you have any secret motive. "I'll tell you what, I'll come to a deal with cha'. If you manage to get all of the nobles to promise to buy some blue milk, then you can stay for the whole Summer's Yield. No curfew."
Your eyes widen in delight in hearing that.
"BUT!" your father interrupts your moment of joy, "If you can't manage to do that, then forget about the festival because then you'd be more useful at home, tending to the landscape for money. I can sell the milk at Summer's Yield in your place."
"Now git! And boy, if I find that you're going against my instructions in anyway, then you better watch out for what's coming to you!" He shakes his hand menancingly, threatening you.
@Strange2
Slipping out effortlessly, you now stand in the streets. You caught a tip-off that the noble brat you're looking for has quite the reputation for being the enemy of all his servants for being quite the snooty, spoiled child of his father, the Duke of Vestfold. You reasonably infer that anyone who has seem him along his futile attempt to escape you would be to identify him as nobility, narrowing down your search. After all, the people you have met with that personality usually aren't the most subtle or reserved.
Where do you wish to explore in Hallow's Peak (or otherwise) in your efforts to find him or collect information?
@IMTheDrew
With the exception of one old man who's sleeping heavily over his beer and, every normal patron left the inn at the mention of free drinks, even the diehard patrons who spend every waking hour at the Elve's Widow. You're extremely thankful that the owner of the Elve's Widow, an aged, fiery woman who cares very deeply about her profits, is currently away making preparations for the Summer's Yield. You doubt you'd have your job if she realised what you had just done for business on the busiest day of the year in Hallow's Peak.
The Slinger remains, however, his face now buried in his hands in a look of disappointment. He sighs very heavily before slowly rising from the table, "Boy, you're a wreck. I don't know how you managed to give me the impression of having a good head on your shoulders. Still, I feel responsible for your breakdown here and I don't like feeling guilty."
He flairs the edge of his beige coat, brandishing a dagger strapped to his boot. He kicks up his leg, grabbing the now free dagger in midair with the tips of his fingers. He throws the dagger which precisely hits the wall right above you, barely missing your head by no more than a hair's width.
"I have a debt to you now. Give me an hour and I'll teach you how to defend yourself and the ones you love for this festival tonight."
@volcanic_xr
You find that your endeavour is largely successful with a band of bards and a line of tipsy patrons now following you to the next inn over. A few men are noisily singing your praises, raising their bottles in honour of a free drink and denouncing the barhand who berated you in hopes of getting more rounds.
Walking for a while, you come across an inn with a crooked sign bolted to its door that reads "Rhaghor's Rowdy Rations". Entering the inn, you see an approximately 20 year old lad dressed in very fancy clothing flanked by 2 large guards, which you recognise to be wearing the insignia of one of the noble families in the Roselian Empire. The exact name seems to not come to your memory at this point in time.
The boy is arguing with a stout, bearded dwarven man behind the bar, "Renew my room now, spudkin! I don't think you realise what I can have done to your little inn if you don't get me a room by the end of the hour!"
The dwarf responds, "I've told you time and time again: I don't care who you are or what you can do to me. If you disrespect my wife, you're banned from this inn." The dwarf now angrily shouts, "AND DON'T CALL ME SPUDKIN, YOU GRACELESS SACK OF MANURE."
(You know that 'spudkin' is somewhat of a racial slur to dwarfs, as potatoes come from the ground and are thought of as dirty. Applying it to dwarves is a great insult.)
(Don't feel the need to wait for my narration, if you want to add something or have your characters talk amongst themselves do it before 16:00:00 Torn City Time bc that's when I'll be making my next post)
As you're walking to Cairn, you're met by your father walking back from the forest with an axe slung over his shoulder and a bundle of firewood nestled underneath his arm.
"Zakir!" He shouts angrily, "Where were you? I was calling your name to get help around this damn household, but I bet you were too busy sleeping to help your old man."
He sighs, "Anyways, I want you to run an errand for me later, there are apparently going to be 3 different people of nobility attending the Summer's Yield this year: the Violessas, Orchidaes and some Vestfold brat. I want you to search them out and sell them some of our blue milk."
Your father squeals in delight, "Once they get a sip of the irresistible milk , they're gonna come crawlin' to this farm and we're gonna be rich, boy!"
"Now don't you forget! Be back in time for the festival!"
@volcanic_xr
Approaching the donkey, you lay out your hand and the donkey gently nudges against it. Perhaps it's part of being an oread, but you seem to have quite the affinity in handling creatures. Quite easily you manage to lead the donkey to a small makeshift wooden guard station where the guards nod in approval and take the donkey from you.
Mounting back on your steed, you clop down the path looking for an inn until eventually you come to a weathered sign that reads the Elve's Widow. You walk through the door and well, you'd be damned, you see an old contact of yours, a dusty-haired ranger known only to you as "the Griffon" who had once hired you previously in the past to do some not-so honest work for him. He's sitting down and conversing with a very strange looking man dressed like some sort of travelling duelist and seems to be quite deep in conversation, not really noticing your presence as yet.
For the most part, this town seems to be quite lovely, the people are afraid of you, yes, but its better than the outright hate you get in big cities. The nature surrounding here is also quite tranquil, and the fertile soil attracts plenty of fauna who graze the forests and open fields. You think you might like it here.
That is until a bloodcurdling scream is let out and a pale barhand in the corner of the room is pointing at you, shaking in his boots.
@strange2
"Hmm your help?" he ponders, his face scrunching up, "Strange, I do admire your talent as a duelist but you will not be fighting in a fair fight here. The enemy here is smarter than you or I, more sly than you or I, more dangerous than you or I. And he will not end with just our deaths." His speech seem to slow down and emphasise each word.
"But if you believe you are up to the task, then so be it. I can't say many men would be as brave as you are."
He scoffs, "You know, you could be doing great things, if you would become a contractor under _my organisation_" As he says this, he pulls back his sleeve with inhuman speeds to quickly flash the full tattoo of the intersecting griffons, it is equal parts menacing and beautiful. In a split second, the tattoo disappears under his clothing again, only someone as perceptive as you would have been able to spot that.
"Oh and don't worry about the boy. I wanted him to overhear. Rumours spread like wildfire, but no one is going to seriously believe a stranger if they tell them of their incoming doom, but a local barhand who is well-known to his patrons? Well that's a different story. Plus, the kid seems like he has a good rational head, see how hard he's trying to play it cool. I think he'll be believed by a lot of people instead of looking like some maniac. Hopes are it even reaches the ear of the person coming down to orchestrate this plot, but that may be too optimistic." Takes a hefty swig of his drink again.
"Meet me by the pyre just as Summer's Yield is beginning, I will provide you with more details then. Until then, I suggest you go take care of that noble problem of yours---."
A loud scream from the barhand can be heard and you look over to see him pointing at a tall sellsword of some kind who had just entered.
@IMTheDrew
(I rolled a dice D&D style to see if you had enough willpower to stay completely neutral, given that you're a commoner and you just heard pretty harrowing news, but alas you failed)
Gods, you are still mortified with the conversation you heard, but you can't help but feel curious too. Even in your attempts to act normal, this is all too much for you to take in at once. You feel this creeping chill up your neck and can take almost no pleasure in hearing your favourite song being played, yet you manage to pull off a rather convincing facade of a normal happy person in your distress.
Suddenly, the door opens and a new traveller walks in. A tall figure, looming over everyone in the room, and he seemed to be staring straight at the table that the 'Slinger' was sitting at. You notice that his arms are caked in dirt. That is not normal to you. A flurry of thoughts rushes through your mind.
"Oh no!" You think, your mind unbelievably tense, "I think that's mud on his arms, what if he's an undead who escaped his grave!? What if he is the archlich, Vorgauk!?!? Oh GOD, HE'S GOING TO KILL EVERYONE IN THIS INN!"
You can't help but scream in fear and point shakily at the new traveler who walked in, in a weak effort to stop him from his murder spree somehow.
*The sun rises in sky to its highest point, it is noon and there is a quarter-day left until Summer's Yield begins in Hallow's Peak.*
@Isacassi
"Oh you are too kind, my dear boy, but my friends here..." A smirk shoots across the man's face, "aren't hungry right now."
He gestures over to the two guards who are standing rigidly straight, staring down at you with great malice. The fine dressed man tosses you a gold piece, "Courtesy of the Violessa's. Your help is much appreciated."
He curtsies before mounting a ghastly black stallion that you somehow seemed to have completely missed up until now. He kicks off into a gallop followed by his two guards, both riding steeds that look to be draped in cloth, obscuring their rides' details. You notice, despite your false warning of bandits, his party are headed straight for the forest.
@IMTheDrew
Seeing the sign of the Hybrids, which you thought was mere urban legend- something that mothers would tell their children to scare them- it makes you reconsider what else in fiction is really truth.
It was odd though, the dusty-haired man in front of you did not look particularly fiendish or evil, yet he made such a blatant call to harm this stranger, who also seemed to just be minding their own business. Staying within earshot, you manage to pick up some of the following conversation.
(Since you're listening in, just read the convo from @strange2's POV)
...Vorgauk?"
Who? That's a name you have never heard before. Also liches!? "Were those even real?" you wondered.
...How do you go about doing that?"
You honestly have no clue what he would be referring to.
...between you and me, I'd rather not fight an undead version of you?"
Again more questions fill your head, what the hell was that supposed to mean?
You've started to be less perceptive towards the other patrons in the Elve's Widow, you didn't even notice that the bard troupe started playing one of your favourite songs. Your curiosity is peaked and you can't help but stare a little longer than usual at the two men sitting at the table.
@strange2
The man sitting across you eyes you down with a serious glare, "You remember the archlich, Vorgauk?"
Indeed you do, a skeletal elf who was 4000 years old when he was ruling from the shadows. Beyond mortal comprehension, Vorgauk would hatch plots that required great amounts of time and wealth to succeed. They never failed. Some say that weak necromancy spells only exist today because Vorgauk felt the need to teach his minions how to dispatch of enemies without bothering him in his studies. Being an experienced duelist, you know that even though these spells are considered 'weak', they inflict overwhelming pain and duress on their victims. Your last tirade with cultists down in Jurmarie's Cavern that left you bedridden for a week is proof of that.
Luckily for you and, although unbeknownst to most of them, everyone else dead or alive today, Vorgauk was trapped in a perpetual timeloop by the secret High Mage Council in the heart of the Icespire Mountains almost one century ago. As far as you know, Vorgauk will no longer ever be able to directly insert his influence again. Why then was this man still mentioning his name?
"Imagine you were a disciple of his. Problem is, he's gone now. You, however, still need to sustain your master's power on the material world. How do you go about doing that?"
Realisation washes over you. You would continue using the school of magic that Vorgauk perfected: Necromancy. It is ever so subtle, but the man sitting across you acknowledges your eyes widening in response to the thought.
"Now, where would be the best place to start 'exerting your influence'. A big city with strong adventurers that could oppose you? Or a small farming town that gets populated with overwhelmingly common folk every year in time for a festival?" He raises his eyebrow towards you.
"I'm here because I've caught wind of a nefarious plot. Someone who you may know is coming here to mimic Vorgauk's power. Between you and me, I'd rather not fight an undead version of you." He picks up the glass of ale and downs it once more, "So tell me, Strange, why are you here then?"
You notice now, two sets of eyes on you, one from the man in front and another from a pale barhand behind you who is trying to appear unfazed and nonchalant.
@volcanic_xr
You get glances from the common folk and small number of guards as you make your way to the point you were instructed to pick up your money from. Little children stare and point, asking if you need a bath. Little do they know, the dirt on your body won't wash off no matter how hard you try. Along the roadside, you spot a donkey with bales of wool on its back and reigns around its neck that seem to be detached from whatever it was once pulling. You also spot a few inns that you could get a warm meal and a belly of ale from. It's unlikely to find a smithy here in this small town, but you could try to find a general store if you are low on wares. You have about 3 hours to spare before your patron is to arrive to pay your dues. What do you wish to do?
A large gloved hand grabs your shoulder and violently shakes you awake. You look up to see 2 men towering over you, completely blocking your sight. They are both dressed identically in an outfit you can't really recognise. They have large curved iron helmets that obscure everything but their pitch black irises, sat in a sea of yellow. A simple blue and yellow striped cloth tunic is laid over their armour, with a large emblem of a flower sat in the middle of their chests. You now recognise the symbol to be a crest of one of the noble houses in the Roselian Empire, their name escapes you right now but you would recall your father complaining about how the nobles had put all "honest farmfolk" into a position of debt bondage. You can somewhat ascertain that these individuals are guards of some sort but a few things catch your eye...
You notice, oddly enough, that these guards seem to be rather... peculiar. For a start, they don't seem to have any weapons or shields like you would assume a guard would have. The way that they're standing also seems quite... stoic and rigid, almost like they're moving with metal in their bones. Not to be rude either, but these guards have a strong stench emanating from under their masks...
Before you can stare for too long however, the two guards part to reveal a tall, lanky man dressed in very fine apparel. He lifts his crimson bycocket ever so slightly before bending down to meet your gaze, his snake-like blood-red eyes pierce right into your soul, sending a cold chill down your spine.
With a voice as smooth as silver, the strange man asks you, "I'm sorry to disturb dear boy, my party and I appear to be lost. Could you point us in the direction of Hallow's Peak?"
@strange2
A large grin shot across the man's face, "Well indeed, I do beckon 'Strange' men. Some of which wish to keep a low profile," he leans on his arm closer towards you, "but when you deal in secrets, you sometimes forget that there are those who know more than you, Strange." He slyly winks at you and pulls the sleeve of his arm up slightly to reveal a symbol of two intersecting griffons. You recognise it instantly, the mark of a man from the Hybrids.
The Hybrids. An underground organisation that no one truly understands, even it's own members are unaware of the influence it exerts. There was talk that the last Great Pretrian War between the two neighbouring empires was the result of direct meddling by the Hybrids into their domestic affairs, but that's something that most attribute to just being conspiracy. Even now, you still aren't too sure. For the most part, the Hybrids are a non-issue, they have their own moral code and will only cross those who they feel are a danger to progress. Nonetheless, a Hybrid member revealing himself to you is curious to say the least.
"I like you," he leans back in his seat and lays his boots on the table, "I really do."
***"My advice," his face is overcome with sudden seriousness, a dramatic change from his usual cool stupor, "leave town before Summer's Yield... or else you are going to die."
He chuckles, "Well not if I can help it, but I don't know if I can." He picks up his drink and raises his glass to you before downing it. A glass of wine is placed on the table in front of you by the barhand.
@IMTheDrew
As you're making your rounds around the inn, you overhear bits and pieces of conversation here and there. Bringing a glass of wine to the strange traveler, you are suddenly privy to talk of death (read from *** onwards in @strange2's pov to see what you overhear). Again, a feeling of foreboding washes over you, why would there be talk of any harm in Hallow's Peak?
You place the glass of wine down on the table in front of the strange traveler.
Being familiar with Hallow's peak, you make your way into one of few quaint little inns that you've frequented before. The weathered oak sign that reads "The Elve's Widow" greets you like an old friend. As you enter the inn, you're greeted with the smells of succulent roasting hog and sweet mulled wine. The inn seems rather populated today- after all, it's Summer's Yield. Behind the desk stands a short man in simple clothes, smiling at you.
There's a small troupe of bards playing away at their instruments at the corner, getting tossed a couple pieces of spare copper here and there from the other patrons. All the tables are occupied by villagefolk, except one.
A dusty haired, brown-skinned human eyes you from his table. A crossbow seems to peak out from the side of his beige trenchcoat. He downs his tankard of ale and beckons you closer.
@IMTheDrew
It's been a busy day at the inn so far. You've had to service a lot of regulars today. Lots of chat over the upcoming Summer's Yield, excited chatter fills the room as more and more locals start to indulge in a couple of drinks prior to the festivities. A few people of interest have caught your eye however:
Firstly, the small bard troupe that came in was always a relief. It's a rarity to get travellers in a small town like Hallow's Peak. Even better, strangers often bring news about the Empire. Village life can be quite stagnant so it's always a delightful change of pace to have someone (or something) of interest to ponder over. That's part of the reason why Summer's Yield transcended beyond a mere harvest celebration into what is it today.
Then came the "Slinger" (or at least that's what the patrons at the inn called him). A dusty haired human that looked like a charismatic bandit described only in stories and song. He came over to you and asked for an ale, which you handed to him as usual. The Elve's Widow is known for it's strong brew, yet he gulped it down in 3 seconds flat, before requesting for another and making his way to the nearest empty table.
Finally, an interesting man walked through the door. Dressed like duelist, the bright colours of his garb contrasted against the flush grey washed-out colour of his skin. You notice how he surveys the room, before being beckoned by the Slinger. You get a feeling in your gut, unsure if it's anticipation or fear, but you get a feeling you should watch this interaction with a keen eye.
Hallow's Peak is a small farming town located in the outskirts of the Roselian Empire. Every year, during the annual harvest season, a massive celebration is held known as the Summer's Yield. You stir in bed, awakened by the sounds of birds chirping, children playing and builders rushing to get everything ready in time for the festival. Who are you and why are you in this town?
[Meta: I am very bored lmao, play this like a high fantasy dnd-esque story- so elves, dwarves, even tieflings a-okay, but anthropomorphic humanoids, weird tentacle creatures, inanimate objects ehhhh maybe not, ]