Event Log: February, Outpost Problems

[faileas]

Event Log: February, Outpost Problems

I. Adventuring We Will Go (Tomorrow) The word gets around pretty quick. Anybody who plans to journey with the group of Wilders venturing out to set up a new outpost is invited to attend a traditional gathering they have before an expedition: the packing party. On the evening of the 15th, the Wilders' HQ is bustling with activity. The whole group is present making the final preparations, sorting gear, and checking the carts for maintenance. The atmosphere is easy and upbeat, very casual, with Wilders laughing and telling jokes and stories as they work. One has to have a little fun before it's time to be serious, after all! A lot needs done, and more hands are always welcome. Camping gear and provisions need to be checked, inventoried, and dispersed into enchanted rucksacks that can hold twice as much as you might think they could - there will be enough rucksacks for each explorer in the party. Everyone is expected to carry their own. Shrunken-down construction materials for the new outpost need to be loaded into the three self-propelled carts the party will travel with (if only they were self-steering as well!). The carts themselves haven't been necessary for an expedition in a while; they could probably use some fixing up, greasing the axles and making sure the enchantments are fully charged with magic. And, too, this is a chance for the group to mingle and get to know each other. You have to be able to trust your fellows out there in the Wilde, after all. So there's a table with food bought off a few street carts: fried hand pies in meat (no one's sure what kind of meat, but hey!), veggie, and fruit varities; a pot of simmering jellied eel to be scooped into cups and eaten with spoons; fried squabs on sticks dripping grease. Beer is plentiful, as are bottles of a non-alcoholic ginger beer. Everyone is encouraged to eat, pack, and get to know each other. Especially because, the lead Wilders on this expedition will say, it's recommended that everyone going out there have a Bonded - whether it be their own normal Bonds if they're also going, or temporary Bonds with their fellow party members. The table also bears a few dozen of the temporary Bonding potions, and it's highly encouraged, though not required, that more experienced explorers temporarily Bond with those who are much newer to Aefenglom. It's nature's buddy system, you know. Whatever you're going to do, do it before the morning - the group leaves at first dawn, and will not wait for anyone too hungover to be on time. While having a Bond isn't required for the trip, the Wilders will strongly encourage it for anyone who isn't Bonded or whose Bond partners aren't going. The three-Bond safety limit does still apply to temporary Bonds, though! If you'd like to tag around for potential temp Bonds, head over to this thread right here!

II. The Silent Forest It becomes clear that, while the journey starts off easy, it won't remain that way. The group leaves out at dawn and passes first through stretches of land considered 'safe' - safe enough to be generally habitable, and the first couple of hours see the occasional farm on the way. There are few to no signs of Cwyld this close to the city, but then they start to slip into the region considered 'in progress'. These are the lands the Wilders have been focusing on, and so while there are the occasional patches of infected plants, they're easily dealt with by small, controlled burns. As the day drags on and the hike continues, though, the landscape changes. The trees grow thicker and the underbrush more dense. The machetes have to come out at points to clear the path for the carts; whoever is currently on cart-steering duty, please don't damage them! The atmosphere, too, changes around this time; the laughter dies down, expressions become more serious, Wilders are noticeably more alert to the possible presence of Shades or hostile creatures. By evening, the forest is thick and dark, the trees around them ancient and twisting. No one has ventured out to this area in quite a while, the more experienced Wilders will say, and that becomes very obvious. The once-beautiful forest is heavily infected by the Cwyld, and the small cabin that served as a Wilder outpost is overgrown, still bearing the 5-year-old corpse of a dead Wilder. Adventurers are advised to take caution when touching anything - wear gloves and heavy boots and watch your step out here, folks. The way still needs to be cleared. a. The Flora The oldest of the trees present are fully dead, thick trunks turned black and shiny, letting in light from above where their leafless branches reach out to the trees around them. The brush is thick and thorny; even small pricks and cuts in the skin are liable to be infected, a black ring forming around the wound, darkening the veins branching out from it, and need immediate treatment to keep it from spreading. It's hard to avoid other than by simply wearing thick clothing and hoping for the best. Nestled in the roots of the trees are pitcher-like plants filled with a sticky sap; the Wilders are excited to see these, and despite the dangers, comb through them to see if any remain uninfected. The sap in infected plants is black and tarry, while in uninfected plants it runs clear. This sticky liquid is excellent for smearing over wounds to seal them and draw out minor infection, and they'd be delighted to take some whole plants back for cultivation. As well, a certain breed of tree seems to have escaped infection entirely; these tall, woody trees have shiny green leaves, a contrast to the rest of the forest, and bear small green fruits that smell (and taste, should you eat one) deliciously sweet. All is not always as it seems out here in the Wilde, though - be careful which fruit you choose to imbibe. These trees are not immune to the Cwyld, they only hide their infection well. It can only be determined which trees are infected by cutting into them and inspecting the sap (difficult, because the sap of all the trees is highly toxic, and even inhaling near it will have nasty side-effects of vertigo, vomiting, and even temporary blindness). If it runs black at all, the tree is infected, and the fruit, sweet as it might taste, is deadly poisonous. Trees that are only mildly infected are a Russian roulette: you have an 80-20 chance of getting a toxic fruit or a good one. Most of the Wilders don't feel it's worth the risk. b. The Fauna The party spends a couple of days in the Silent Forest out of necessity. Initially, it seems as if there is no animal life left on this desolate patch of land. No birds chirping, no mammals scurrying about, not even an insect to buzz around the explorers' heads. It becomes quite clear that the Cwyld has consumed nearly everything, and the life left is hardly life at all. Shades are not uncommon. When camp is made for the night, capable fighters will have to rotate guard duty and patrols around the campsite, to fight off the shadows of what used to live here as they sense life and magic to consume. Dessicated, white-eyed bucks with cracking antlers, bloated and mutated birds screeching angrily, even, perhaps, the Shade of a bear, huge, enraged, and difficult to take down. But that second night, those who are alert may get the tingling sense that they're being watched. They are, in fact, by a band of nomadic Monsters, primarily Harpies and Arachne passing through. They don't approach the camp, and they won't speak to any of the Wilder group, merely watching them with something like curiosity before they flee into the forest again. It's hard to get close to them before they disappear, more at home in this dead forest than you will ever be, but close observation shows that all are scarred in some way; missing parts of limbs, eyes, or bearing even worse marks on their bodies. c. The Solution It's too thick an area to clear simply by burning. They'd set the whole dry patch of forest alight and kill who knows what along with the Cwyld. Some smaller areas can be taken care of with fire and careful supervision, but the rest of it... The lead Wilder on this expedition, a prematurely-greying Witch named Rilla Sparks, puts forth a suggestion. She admits, it's one based heavily on theory and speculation, along with the findings of certain prominent researchers in the city. If they can find the leyline, she thinks the Witches in their party can flood it with enough positive, nurturing magic to 'flush' the Cwyld out of the vicinity, so to speak. Or, she hopes, enough to make it passable in the future. It's experimental, but isn't that what this trip is about? Discovering new things? If enough of the party is game, the first step is finding the leyline in the area. This can be sniffed out by Witches and Monsters both, as they're drawn to sources of magic, even tainted magic; and, too, if anyone takes a look from the air, the leyline becomes obvious, as it cuts a much darker, more heavily infected line across the forest floor, like a blackened vein. Once it's found, it's up to the Witches in the group. Gathering over the blackened ground, anyone who wants to participate in the ritual should join in pairs or groups, down on their knees to be closer to the earth, and should 'push' their magical energy into the leyline through their hands pressed to the dirt. Each push results in a pulse of light beneath the blackness of the ground, weak at first, but stronger the more magic is expended. It will take several hours, which means the occupied (and then spent) Witches will require the protection of their Monster fellows, and interacting this closely with a tainted leyline will have side effects. A low degree of Cwyld infection is possible in the hands, but not guaranteed. Intense fatigue and dizziness is certain, along with pain when casting spells, and terrible nightmares for as long as the symptoms last - anywhere from 2 to 6 days, depending on how much magic the individual Witch expelled and how much rest they get after. It will take some time to see if their labors bear fruit. They'll check on the area again on the way back; they can't stay in one place for too long.

III. Ruins of a Past Life In the next couple of days, as the journey commences, the obvious signs of infection lessen in the landscape. The trees thin out again as they head further north. With the Wilde just barely dipping toes into autumn, and no thick canopy of foliage to block out the sun, it's a hot, uncomfortable walk. Those on cart-steering duty are considered lucky, getting to sit for a few hours, but it doesn't last - the duty is rotated between volunteers. Enjoy it while you've got it. At one point, with the sun high in the sky, they stop to refill canteens and jugs with fresh water and to take a bit of a swim. Here, the water cascades into a wide lake below, which eventually feeds back into the main river that cuts through Aefenglom farther south. At the top of the waterfall, it's much easier to see something in the distance, that isn't specifically on the route but is a small enough detour (only a mile or two off) that the guides permit it. It's the ruins of a former settlement, clusters of shells of burned out houses and buildings, a dried up well, and the crumbling remnants of a wall - reminiscent of the Bright Wall, but much, much smaller, only about eight or nine feet high at its tallest point. There is no magic left in it, though, nor any people in the ruined town. There haven't been for years and years, judging from the mossy overgrowth and state of disrepair. Some signs of the former inhabitants can still be found in the houses; the Wilders agree to make camp here for a night, to give everyone some time to explore. a. In The Daytime The ruins are depressing, but safe, in the daylight. It isn't hard to put together what happened here - a Cwyld outbreak must have come on them quickly, and judging from the hasty, half-burned homes, it was poorly contained. Some homes still contain skeletons in rotted scraps of clothing, some bones charred and others picked clean by animals. Many of their possessions still remain, except there are no books left anywhere in the town, even on shelves where books obviously were before. The patterns in the dust indicate that the books, all that survived the fires initially, were removed much more recently, within the last year or two perhaps. Otherwise, much is untouched. There are still dishes and flatware on broken tables, rotted blankets on beds, children's toys scattered over floors, axes hung on walls. A sort of thick, somewhat mucous-y grayish-green moss grows in flat sheets over most of the ruins. It isn't infected by the Cwyld; in fact, the areas where it grows seem to be free from it. Coincidence? Not? The Wilders have never seen anything quite like it, and are interested in taking samples back to study. (And for those of you who can't help but put things in your mouths: yes, the moss is edible. It tastes a little... earthy, but gives a pleasant caffeine-like buzz and burst of energy. Good for Witches still feeling the effects of the leyline flushing.) Outside the remnants of the wall, there are years-overgrown gardens, and perfectly good potatoes, asparagus, and raspberries can be found still growing, hardy and perennial even without human hands to tend to them. These people lived a more simple life than those in relatively-modern Aefenglom, as there isn't any magitech to be found, but somehow, they made themselves a home out here in the middle of nowhere. b. Ghosts of a Forgotten Settlement After nightfall, the dead town comes alive again, in a morbid sense. The party will soon find that the sunset brings the emergence of specters of the town's deceased residents - ghastly semi-transparent echoes of humans and Monsters, men, women, and children, in the state they were in at their deaths. Some are badly burnt, others were obviously infected, on their way to becoming Cwyldtid. Now, they go about their former lives every night, filling the ruined town with a sense of dread and foreboding that is impossible for the living to ignore. The ghosts cannot be touched or physically interacted with, and many of them simply ignore the Wilders and Mirrorbound completely. Spectral children play in the streets, adults tidy shops that are no longer there, or head out to the field to farm. They do so with expressions full of sadness, and desperation, as if trapped in this cycle of un-life. Others not only notice the group, but try to turn on them, enraged at the sight of intruders, though their shouts and screams are silent. They can't do any damage, but if they pass through you, you'll feel a bone-deep chill, despite the late-summer heat hanging in the air, and the specters' 'touch' will fill anyone with an aching, heavy despair, or rage - echoes of the emotions the ghosts experienced before their deaths.

IV. The Northern Outpost The sparse forest thins even more to the north. The terrain grows more uneven, rockier and hilly, with drier soil and hardy, sun-bleached grass instead of moss and leaf litter. Several natural rock formations can be spotted in the distance, growing larger as the group gets nearer. The trees here are few and far between, shorter and sturdier, casting only small circles of shade on the baked landscape. Wildflowers dot the grass in every color of the rainbow in the areas that remain uninfected. A low degree of Cwyld infection can be found here, turning the grasses overgrown, dry and brittle, and the sparse trees gnarled and blackened. This is to be expected, though. You can't venture this far out and expect anywhere to be completely untouched. The spot Rilla Sparks chooses for the new outpost is cradled between two large spires of stone, with a cliff-face at the back of it - protected on three sides to defend from animals and Shades, with a relatively clean stream within an hour's walking distance. Construction has to commence immediately. Once they land, it's a flurry of activity, as there is much work to be done. The building supplies are returned to their original sizes and it's all hands on deck to put together the low wooden building. With everyone working as quickly as they can, it should take about three days to get set up enough to consider the outpost open. Also on the to-do list: setting up the teleporter waypoint given to the Wilders by the Coven, to shorten the trip from Aefenglom to this far-flung outpost. It's smaller than the one in Dorchacht, only able to transport three people at a time, but the technology is the same. They'll need as many magitech-capable hands as they can get to calibrate it to the local energies and get it up and running. While all this is going on, exploration of the local area is high on the list as well, to ferret out any potential dangers that may be inherent to setting up here, or potential boons that can be taken back to Aefenglom, and to start work on their maps. There's a job for everyone, and while they're happy to let people do what they're good at, or rotate between different tasks, anybody slacking off will get the stink-eye - you came to work, right? This is no vacation! After the first day, though, things start... getting a little weird. Items start disappearing at random times, just out of nowhere, no rhyme or reason to the things taken. Hammers, half-drawn maps, scraps of wood, your half-eaten lunch if you look away from it for long enough. Personal items may go missing as well, if left unattended, so keep your precious things and weapons close. You may hear muffled voices - laughter, indiscernible chatter - around the times when stuff goes missing; it could be the voice of a stranger, or maybe it's the voice of someone you know, someone you've been traveling with for the last several days. But why would they want to steal your pen, or your handful of nails, or your drink cup? Weirder still, holes in the dirt start turning up in the night. Maybe six feet deep, dug at an angle like the beginning of a tunnel, and cutting off abruptly. Digging further down in these holes doesn't turn much up at first, but checking enough of them will turn up only a handful of the smaller missing items with teeth marks in them. Inconsequential, uninteresting, inedible things, or straight up trash in some cases. With enough persistence and maybe a good old fashioned stake-out, the culprits turn up: a pack of sand-colored, hyena-like animals that perfectly mimic human and Monster voices that they hear (often repeating words out of context, like much dumber parrots - they don't know what they're saying, only what the words sound like), and scavenge for whatever they can get their paws on. The hyenas are aggressive when confronted, and pack-oriented, but can be won over eventually by feeding them, or talking at them: different hyenas like different sounds and different words, so it might take some trial and error. Several bear low-level infections that can still be cured. Maybe eventually they can be trained. But then, where is everything else they stole? Please note that only a very small number of the items missing will be found on this trip! If you don't want something of your character's gone for an indeterminate amount of time, don't have it stolen. It's just possible they might turn up at a later date, however...

Welcome to February's event log, Outpost Problems! The expedition will last about an IC week for everyone who completes the trip; characters can return to Aefenglom with a pair of Wilder scouts at any stop along the way, though. As always, please direct your event-specific questions here! You can tag around for temporary Bonds in this thread, and if your character would eat the fruit in the Silent Forest, please post here for your dice roll (we did say it's a Russian roulette). Enjoy the trip outside the Bright Wall, everyone!

Comments

[weiward]

And most of the songs I know are a little...

[wei wuxian twirls the flute in his fingers as he thinks it over. how should he put it. scandalous? something like that. but it was all just fun and games to him.]

Ah - distasteful.

[he smiles, but follows felix's eyes back to the other ghosts.]

Most of them don't seem to be hurting anything. They'll be gone when the sun's back up. [he looks back at the other, studying him for a moment before quirking an eyebrow.] If you want to go back to the main camp, I could walk with you.

[finesseblade]

[ Felix watches the way the flute spins end-over-end in Wei Wuxian's fingers, his eyes caught by the movement. He gets the feeling that between the two of them, they're talking about two very different definitions of distasteful. He shouldn't be surprised. Wei Wuxian seems like the sort of man who knows a few bawdy tavern songs. ]

I'm not a frightened child who needs walking home.

[ It's only a token protest, accompanied by a brief moment's frown, and then Felix is glancing in the direction of the camp. He sighs. ]

...But there's safety in numbers. Not all of these spirits have taken kindly to our intrusion. Come on, then.

[ Felix jerks his head, indicating for Wei Wuxian to follow him before he starts walking, skirting the edges of the street to avoid as many of the ghosts as he can. ]

[weiward]

I didn't say that you were.

[and even if he is frightened, so what? everyone's afraid of something. wei wuxian's definitely afraid of something. and the important thing is that felix is still out here trying to help despite his fears. next time he might even be less afraid.

he would've said all of this too, had felix continued to protest. instead he invites him long.

wei wuxian starts walking with him, keeping his stroll quick enough to keep up and his hands behind his back.]

Ay, Felix - out of curiosity, which are you? [he jogs a few steps to get closer.] You can tell me if you have scales or-

[a tail. don't mind him if he just leans back for a peek.]

[finesseblade]

I'm not a witch, if that's what you're asking.

[ It's not an answer to the question, not when Felix can still barely bring himself to utter the word monster and admit to himself what he's becoming. The evidence is still scant, anyway—mostly changes to his senses, and the golden mottling on his irises that only shows in the light.

But Wei Wuxian isn't looking at his face, and Felix can't help but frown. ]

What are you looking for? [ He snaps it, turning stubbornly to obstruct Wei Wuxian's view. ] Just—ugh. Stop. There's nothing back there that's going to answer your question.

[ Exasperated by the turn of conversation, he utters a quiet, irritated noise and waves a hand. ]

I'm a turnskin. Does that satisfy you?

[weiward]

[wei wuxian stands straight when he's caught, arms behind his back and eyes forward, like he wasn't doing anything at all.

he'd understand those feelings. he'd struggled with them briefly himself, always pulling at his sleeves and adjusting the top of his robes to make sure the fur didn't peek through. lan zhan had helped him overcome it - mostly. wei ying is wei ying.]

But you're still Felix.

[turnskin. he nods, having a general idea of what that means. it means change, and that doesn't feel so different from what's happening to him.]

Don't tell anyone this, but sometimes I wish I was a witch.

[finesseblade]

[ Funny, how a small thing can make him feel just a little bit better, even if he's not going to admit it—he just glances at Wei Wuxian, a faint something-like-a-smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He's told himself the same thing many times. I'm Felix. I'm me. A little fur won't change that.

He's curious, though. Wishes he was a witch, hm? ]

You mean you're not one?

[ Somehow, Felix had assumed Wei Wuxian was a witch. But his nostrils flare briefly, and—ah, there it is. A kind of gamey smell, not unlike when Lorenz turned up with deer's legs at the house a few weeks ago. Not deer, but something else, almost imperceptible, and for whatever reason it makes him eye Wei Wuxian a little more keenly. ]

If you're not a witch, then what are you?

[weiward]

No. Cultivators can do magic, so I guess we're all a little bit like witches in our own world. But here...

[he tugs his sleeve up, showing felix the fur he'd tried to hide.]

Puca. [wei wuxian shrugs his shoulders, attempting nonchalance.] Being a witch requires too much study anyway. Who wants to come to a new world and be stuck with their nose in a book? Not me.

[finesseblade]

[ Puca. Ah. Suddenly everything grows a little clearer, and Felix files away that particular scent in the back of his mind so he'll know for the future. If he's going to be stuck with these extra senses, he may as well make use of them. ]

Ha. My— [ Felix hesitates for a beat, not quite able to bring himself to say it out loud yet, but then he grits his teeth and keeps going. ] —Bonded would beg to differ. He's been eating up those magic tomes from the Coven since he got here. He's not... usually so studious.

[ The glow from the camp's fires is close now, the ghosts fewer on the edge of town. Felix sighs. ]

Me, I'm not sure that being a beast is so much better.

[weiward]

[wei wuxian turns his head to look at him, brows lifting in curiosity at his struggle. for a second there he wasn't sure if felix was trying to say something or having his tongue pulled out. it's extra strange to him that it was because of that word in particular.]

Really? Mine's always been that way. I used to spend hours in the library with him, against my will. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't that I minded spending time with him. Lan Zhan and I were nearly inseparable from the first day we laid eyes on each other. He used to come by my room at all hours of the night for a drink or just to see what I was up to.

[he smiles, pleased with his story. ...what. felix doesn't know any better, he can't prove that it's a lie. besides, lan zhan did come to his room. once. and had a drink. after wei wuxian put a spell on him that forced him to.

technically not a lie.

his chattiness is curbed by something he hears in felix's voice though. wei wuxian glances over at him again before his mouth forms a soft frown. when he speaks again, there's something a little more subdued in his voice.]

At least you'll turn into something strong and powerful to help your Bonded.

[he's a puca. a rabbit. the only thing he's good at is the one thing he'll never do, and that's run away.]

[finesseblade]

[ Their Bonds seem almost reversed, to Felix. Sylvain has always been the wayward one between the two of them... at least, as it appeared on the surface. And while Felix may not have spent his time studying books, he spent it studying the blade, often strong-arming Sylvain into sparring matches with him.

Felix snorts, his gaze turning forward, toward the camp. ]

Maybe you're right... his study habits might have changed, but he can hardly look after himself without me around to watch his back.

[ It is a strange sort of comfort, with Sylvain still lying back in the camp sick after nearly killing himself to flush out the Cwyld back in the forest, to think that maybe there are benefits to his transformation. He's already stronger, faster, his senses more attuned to his environment. But he'd been stronger and faster with his Crest, too—and Felix had never trusted that to carry him where hard-earned skill would prevail.

He shakes his head slowly, glancing at Wei Wuxian. ]

But that has nothing to do with my monstrous nature, or yours. Your strength is in your will, not your form. If you want to protect him, you'll find a way to protect him, regardless of what you are.

[weiward]

Then it's a good thing that he has you to do it.

[and maybe lan zhan's actually lucky to have him too. when felix phrases it that way, it's easier to see where his real strength lies. he never left his side while lan zhan focused all of his magic and energy on the cwyld, and it will be the same no matter what the danger is. wei wuxian will break, he'll break body and soul before he breaks his promises to him.]

You must be really close to your witch too. [how else would he understand these things? it's a dead giveaway. wei wuxian leans in, like they're sharing a secret. and maybe they are.] Does he know the melody of your heart too?

[finesseblade]

[ Oh no. Here comes the offended spluttering. ]

Wh—my what?

[ Felix blinks, his mouth working like he means to say something else, but all that come out is a strangled and indignant noise. A hand strays inadvertently to his chest. The song? Of his heart? Felix doesn't have a clue, but it sounds suspiciously like one of those saccharine lines out of Ashe's chivalrous romance novels.

Or, worse, the discarded harlequins in the library he spent last moon organizing.

Felix shakes his head vigorously, hissing between his teeth. ]

I've known him for a very long time, and we both agreed it would be mutually beneficial if we shared a Bond. That's all.

[ A beat, and then Felix adds, insistent and agitated: ]

And—yes, maybe we've shared a few odd moments of empathy as a result, but that's. That's normal. It's just a part of the Bond.

[weiward]

[he's confused by the sputtering response. what, it's a perfectly normal thing to say.

wei wuxian blinks again at the explanation, even more confused. is that really all that it is? strong bonds seem simple but not...simple.]

Yeah, that's happened to me and Lan Zhan a few times too. But I think it's just much easier when you're soulmates. Meant to be, or something. I grew up with Jiang Cheng, but I can't imagine being Bonded to him would be the same.

[finesseblade]

[ Maybe in some places, that's a perfectly normal thing to say, but Felix is from Faerghus, the land where no one knows how to put their emotions to words and love confessions are delivered in the shape of I think it would be practical to spend our lives at each other's sides. ]

We're not— [ There's a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and maybe the tips of his ears are dusted a little red, but otherwise, same old irritable Felix. ] —that. Not like you. It was just a freak accident.

[ Thank goodness the camp is upon them, because if this line of questioning goes any further, he'll combust. ]

Quit talking nonsense! Go check on your Bonded, and let me worry about mine.