EVENT LOG: LOSE YOUR SOUL

[inthenightmods]

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.

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Comments

[callada]

"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.

[pure_havoc]

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.

[callada]

"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.

[pure_havoc]

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.

[callada]

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."