logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: LOSE YOUR SOUL

Entry tags:

EVENT LOG: LOSE YOUR SOUL

characters: everyone.
location: bonfire square, around town.
date/time: october 30-31.
content: the spirits stage a play! and then the thefts begin...
warnings: none. just mischief.

you're gonna lose your soul tonight, tonight

It's probably something you're used to by now: waking up to some new, strange thing suddenly appearing somewhere around town. This time it's a ramshackle stage sitting prominently in the center of the square. It's complete with benches and a haggard-looking red curtain, and it's clear by the amount of forest spirits milling and fussing around it that they're the ones responsible. For most of the day, the spirits seem concerned only with attracting as many people as possible, trying to herd them into the seats. But as the moon rises, the performance finally begins.

There's an awkward shuffling behind the curtain before it lifts, revealing a very crude set made of actual branches used as trees. Various pieces of junk have been shined up and stuck to the back wall to serve as the night sky. In the midst of it all stand several spirits holding very small torches taken from the Bonfire. Sticks, really, placed inside empty cans with holes punched in them and rusted wires for handles. These spirits wave their "lanterns" about for the benefit of the audience before miming the act of walking across the stage without actually going anywhere. From somewhere above them, a pair of long arms descends to shake the "trees" on either side; seems the Postmaster General wanted to lend their talents to the cause.

The protagonists of this pantomime talk amongst themselves, in the chirps, hoots, and whistles that make up their language. They motion to one another, pointing at things and conferring before finally nodding and, apparently, continuing on whatever "journey" they're supposed to be on. This goes on for a few minutes before another set of players enter the stage— or at least reveal themselves.

Perhaps a few eagle-eyed viewers have spotted them already, but the second group of spirits pops out of the set itself. One detaches itself from a "tree", one drops from the poorly-painted sky, and two more emerge from where they've been hiding behind the foliage. These spirits are holding prop lanterns, too, though theirs are shielded, giving off very little light. But their most notable feature is that they're wearing animal masks; a deer, a fox, a raccoon, and a rabbit for the tallest one. These aren't the masks that make up their faces, they're extras, seemingly tied on over their own.

As the second group jumps up, the first reacts with emphatic shock, and then a brief scuffle ensues. In the chaos, the animal-masked spirits make off with the others' lanterns, dashing away and off the stage. The original few begin to wail, to writhe, to clutch at their throats, and then, ultimately, to fall very over-dramatically to the floor. Other spirits sneak out to drag them out of view, but that isn't quite the end of the performance.

A spirit dressed in a cloak and garish feathers stomps onto the stage with a wooden beak affixed to its face. In one hand it holds a full-sized torch as it waves its fake wing-arms around and tries to squawk. Suddenly, the masked— double masked? spirits arrive again, grabbing the feathered creature, snatching the torch, and tossing the poor feathered spirit to the ground. Victorious, they hoot loudly, and then rush offstage once more. (Probably to return those torches before Rastus has a fit.)

Finally, the Postmaster General, done with their role as the entire set, unfurls a banner from the eaves. Clearly courtesy of the Librarian, it reads, in smeared black paint: BWAR FIRE SNACTHERS!!! with two X-ed out bonfires on either side.

And... that's it, apparently. The forest spirits all gather back on stage to bow before starting to dismantle the set. But their strange cautionary tale isn't over, oh no. It's time for a more personal demonstration. They've got to send home the message. Literally.

Throughout the night and the following day, things start to go missing. Perhaps even out of their owner's hands. Chase the spirits down for your stuff, hold someone else's things for ransom, or just break down and cry in your room because life is unfair— the choice is yours! Just let this be a reminder to heed what the spirits said: beware the Fire Snatchers.

Whatever those are.

QUICKNAV
comms	\|	network • logs • memes • ooc
pages	\|	rules • faq • taken • mod contact • player contact • calendar • setting • exploration • item requests • full nav

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Might as well start with an actual plan. "Yes. Check the buildings for any sign of their coming and going." Assuming they leave any, which just makes him privately annoyed with himself for not doing the most basic research into whether spirits leave tracks or have real bodies. "Half an hour, then."

He gestures one way to suggest Rosinante can take that side of town while he trudges off the other way. Working with the Bonfire and the stage as the center, they should have more or less similar territory to cover.

Do they leave signs of coming and going? Rosinante isn't entirely sure. Sometimes he sees little dirty footprints around, but only if it's rained recently. In this case, they might be out of luck unless he chances across an opened door or some tracked sand. Still, it's a good suggestion.

So he sets off, watching for movement if nothing else. The spirits dashing to and fro are just as good a clue, and at one point he sees one dart through the periphery of his vision with what looks like someone's shoes. But he loses track of where it went after, finding it far too difficult to track the little things in the dark.

Still, he sorts through the east side of the town as well as he can. There are still a few empty buildings here that have never been converted into anything maintained, which all seem like good hiding spots, but when he returns, he does so empty-handed.

"No luck, I'm afraid."

Cao Pi saw plenty of the same activity on his end, since he passed closed to the Invincible and there were quite a few thieves making off from there with anything not nailed down. It confirms what's going on but not at all where they're going with it. He returns to the rendezvous with a sigh. "Nor on my end. They're extremely quick and good at disappearing. Just when I thought I had one cornered, it would elude me. Apparently, I'm not fast enough to catch any of them in the act."

But, he did pause a moment to grab a fresh piece of string or cord somewhere and tie up his hair, so there's that.

"Guess you'll have to make do," he says with a shrug. "For now, anyway. Maybe it's worth changing things up, trying new fashions."

There's a bit of a smirk there that suggests he's teasing, even if his tone is completely deadpan. But he does think it's not a bad idea. The guy sticks out stubbornly like a sore thumb even worse than Rosinante himself does. The ancient emperor look is kind of cool, though, admittedly.

Cao Pi deadpans back but, really, he's not wrong. He would totally try some new fashions. If they weren't ugly and uncomfortable, that is. "I don't think anything in the store constitutes fashion. But, necessity brooks no argument, it's that or freeze." Which leads him on a path of thought that brings about a sniff and toss of his head. "This place must be hell, if we cannot freeze or starve to death but merely spend eternity in discomfort."

So melodramatic. Is that a poet thing? Probably.

"The clothes here are pretty plain. But they must be functional enough, especially for someone your size. You just have to learn to cope like the rest of us."

Now, to be fair, he's had his share of tailored clothing. It was a necessity, as his size at home isn't exactly a standard one even if taller people were more common there than here. But there's still something different about making sure his uniform fit so he didn't look sloppy versus being an emperor and having every item of clothing custom-made to suit whatever his unique preference of the day might be.

Joke's on Rosinante, his preference is all indigo all the time. That does bring up an interesting side note, and for once he deliberately looks his gigantic pal up and down top to bottom. Usually, he just ignores it the same as he doesn't bother calling attention to people shorter than him. "I expect you've had a much harder time of it." It's the closest to sympathy he can manage. "On the other hand, I don't feel like learning to fight in these constricting things is a good use of my time."

"That was really the only pair in your size?" They do look awfully tight, and while there's nothing inherently wrong with that, yeah. Probably not great for flexibility.

"Could always try to pick up sewing. I've been thinking about that. Still isn't easy when most things here aren't long or wide enough but for you, maybe it wouldn't be bad. You could cut up a skirt and sew it closed into legs." Cool, swooshy legs with fun fabrics, too. Honestly, he might have to try that if he ever sees fabric he likes. Surely he won't cut himself in the process and stab himself with the needle repeatedly, sew himself to the clothing, and then get tangled in the string trying to set the project down.

Yeah about that...

Cao Pi looks down with some faint chagrin. "I assumed so. I held them up..."

This man literally has no idea that jeans come in sizes based on measurements or even what his are. So maybe Rosinante's ideas about him and his special wardrobe are closer to right than not. Ahem. God, he hates being shown up, though, and simply makes a face. Anyone else and he'd sniff it off, dismissive and superior, but he and Rosi have chatted enough to allow him a brief flash of humility - a genuine look of "what do?"

Wait, wait wait.

"You held them up, looked at them, then just put them on and walked off even when they felt like they didn't fit? You didn't even try other ones?"

Zihuan goes rather tight-lipped, knowing he did the thing wrong. Bigtime wrong. "No..." and then quickly adding in his defense, "There weren't many. They looked mostly the same."

"Clothes come in different sizes, just like people. Can't always tell how they'll fit until you try them on. I've even noticed sometimes the ones they get in have numbers in them, like waist size."

Sometimes even a printed tag, which is pretty unusual to him, but certainly helpful. Maybe some worlds have the ability to mass-produce clothing in ways he's never seen.

Once he thinks it over he'll realize how smart that is, for people who don't have their clothes custom-made, but for now he's just going to sigh. "The modern world is a strange place to have to navigate. At least, I hope it's simply the modernity of it and not an entirely alien setting." But then, he's seen enough people coming in with these pants and other clothing exactly like that in the shop, so his guess is a rather educated one.

"I'd say both," he says with a shrug. "I've lost track of what counts as 'modern' anyway. Even the people who come from Earth say different things, like how some have magic and some don't."

And anyway, the ones who make mention of years give numbers that don't always make sense to him in context. Are they from the future, or did their year zero start some other time? He could probably sort it all out if he cared but it feels like there are more serious concerns.

"You want to go look for new ones? Pants, I mean." He could always use a second chance to dig through the stuff there himself. Maybe somehow he overlooked something he can make use of.

He's noticed the same, though tangentially, as much of his brainpower has been devoted to more immediate concerns no matter how curious he is to actually plot the graph of differences in versions of the same world. Cao Pi looks down and sighs reluctantly. "No, it's fine. This is an issue of my own making and if I have the time to correct it, I will." There's a delicate pause before he adds, "Thank you." He's learning.

Oh, now look at that, a thank you. There's a new one. He gives a nod in return, hardly deserving like he did anything to warrant it, but at least appreciating that it was said.

"Suit yourself," he responds as he turns, figuring even if there's no good clothing in the store, maybe he'll find something else. Place is full of weird stuff, even now at the end of this month. "Good luck with the search."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

EVENT LOG: LOSE YOUR SOUL

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject