❪ event ❫ spirited away

[natha]

PRELUDE     I'll get straight to the point, Thesaens. Dranbu is in dire need of assistance. I have received confirmation that the disappearances we were investigating last month have... escalated. Be cautious as you make your way through Josa Forest. Ideally we could go straight through, but it seems the main entrance to Dranbu is overgrown with thorns and vines, and there's a bit of a glitch with the rail system - the train is having trouble recognizing the Dranbu station as a destination. I've uploaded a homing beacon to your devices with this message. Once enough of you have arrived in Dranbu proper, it should communicate with the train and register it as a stop. With any luck, that will make getting back and forth much easier for you all from now on. Best of luck. Entry to the forest is not only overgrown with vegetation, but seems to be growing at an increasingly alarming rate. Any attempts to clear the vines will be met with even larger ones growing in its place, and it only confirms Nurray's findings as true. The only way in is across the sound from Nadril, entering the forest from its snowy back yard. It doesn't stay cold for long; as one ventures further into the forest, the snow will disappear, as though it was completely out of place in the first place. The red sun's warmth will take its place soon after— and before long, you'll feel too warm for the clothes you came with. That's when you know you've entered the heart of Josa Forest. WITHIN THE FOREST     The forest seems to be thick with a profound presence that can’t be ascertained. While venturing through it, one will feel like there are being watched or followed. This feeling will only intensify as metallic-scented drops of rain begin to fall between the clearings in the trees. Unfortunately, what many don’t realize at this point is that this is how the forest itself eats. How it subsists and lives through the minds of those who eventually get lost in it. Wandering this far in is akin to walking into a lion’s jaw, or rather… straight to its stomach. But, the forest has a way of making one stay. While it swallows someone up, it shows them sinfully beautiful and picturesque sights. Even showing them people or things that are familiar to the lost. All of which will urge them to go in deeper and deeper. But, while the forest begins to prey on the mind of their victim— they will suddenly hear an elegant and alluring voice urging them back. This voice promises them comfort and safety. Promises to be kind and open. Promises she has a place for them where they will never feel displaced or unwanted, or lost. Before they can fully accept, they will find that they are whisked away in Barthala’s embrace. Some will be taken, wiped of all their previous memories and inserted new ones. Others will find they have no prior memories at all of themselves, only urged to go on with regular life. What is prevalent is the forest's desire to turn you. Metamorphosis is a phenomenon that occurs only to certain individuals, and there is no rhyme or reason to them. Some adventurers would find themselves changing by the minute, the hour, or the process may even take days and weeks. The forest toys with you, but it only wants to draw you closer to its core — as though there's a story there it wants you to see and understand. Will you go on anyway, knowing the forest has already has its claws on you? I. ALL ROADS LEAD TO — Exploring the forest is not a perilous experience - Barthala's blessing ensures that paths remain clear of any dangerous obstacles, and keeps anyone who enters the woods from losing their way. However, it will not always lead adventurers where they want to go. Stressed? Your path leads to a meadow, grass drifting gently in the breeze. Tired? You'll find your way to a tree with roots perfectly curved for a nap, the shade a peaceful retreat from the sunlight. The hungry will find streams full of fish or bushes laden with berries, and the curious will come upon elder trees, unique and beautiful. Only those who are truly satisfied with their circumstances, with themselves, can forge their own path, and venture to Barthala's Grotto. II. BARTHALA'S GROTTO — The deity's home is host to an abundance of life. Butterflies drift through the air, brilliantly colored and unbothered by any intruders. Foliage blooms in a rainbow of colors, many plants unique to this area alone. With trees arranged to provide a canopy over the path and small clearing, the scene is something out of a fantasy. Any plant life taken from this area will not survive long, though even in its dead, dried state, it retains a curious beauty. Explorers and creatures finding themselves in this area will suddenly find their clothing to be an unnecessary burden - what could be better than feeling the wonders of nature against bare skin? There is nothing unbecoming about such a natural state, any perverse inclinations are an aspect of personal preference. While the presence of Barthala can be felt here - a warm, comfortable sensation emanating from your core - she is nowhere to be found. Only one will have the opportunity to pass under a veil of willow branches and emerge to the cool air of a clear-as-glass spring. Another nearby grotto is home to a plant with intoxicating effects. Just smelling the leaves is enough to entice most animals, and consuming them has effects on both mind and body. More easily amused, with thoughts that weave deep and distant, along with increased sensory perception can bring the user on a pleasant trip lasting up to five hours. III. INFLUENCES — (18+) Every five days, a weed scattered in patches among the forest underbrush blooms. The flowers are small and white, unremarkable except for how clustered they grow. When their petals fall, after only hours of blossoming, pollen drifts through the air. It clings to clothing, to hair, in the throats of the sensitive animals dwelling in the forest. Even those unaltered by Barthala's magic can be affected. The locals of Dranbu claim the pollen enhances fertility, but in practice, it simply serves as a poignant aphrodisiac. Those affected won't differentiate between the warmth of another or their own, a simple need to experience sexual ecstasy overwhelmingly pervaded. The pollen loses its potency after about three hours, leaving behind only a sweet smell. YOUR NEW (NEW) LIFE    Adapting to an entirely new setting isn’t always so simple. People often say that assimilating oneself to the environment happens fluidly, and before you know it, you’re a part of it. In Dranbu, these words hold an uncanny sense of truth. When you awake, your day begins like it always has. Your daily routine meets largely unchanged, except a few tinier details. Perhaps, you’ve realized your true calling is an occupation within the villages itself. Maybe in farming up strange medical herbs, maybe in acting as a witch doctor for the people, or maybe you find yourself drawn to the arts and you really enjoy sculpting fellow villagers in the nude. Once you commit these tasks, you realize, it feels like what you’ve always done. As if it were natural, as if you’ve done them for years, and maybe you have? At least that’s what your gut is telling you, and slowly your memories will too. At the end of the day, when you return home, you realize you’re not alone. You have a partner who shares the same values and whom you love deeply. Or maybe a spouse whom you’re always arguing with. But, even that will feel as commonplace as the rest of your day. All you know is that the day that might have started off not being yours is entirely yours and yours alone. IV. THE HUNT — Those taken by the forest, animal features adorning their bodies, will find that their palates have changed as well. Carnivores crave raw meat, while herbivores don't mind snacking on a patch of grass or pulling leaves from branches. For most, there's no reason to cook a meal; once prey is captured, instinct says dig right in! It can be a gruesome sight, mangled bodies gorged upon leaving bloodstained faces, but it's natural. As is the hunt itself - any size of game can be found in the forest, and no one will go hungry for long. The magic that dwells here ensures a catch even for the clumsiest predator. Just take care not to stalk one of your own. For a hungry predator, there's no difference between a deer and a deer-like human. THE BOUNDARIES BEYOND     For some, placated is synonymous with bored. While there is a sense of wonder in the beauties of nature that adorn the woods, serene forest life isn't for everyone. Those seeking more adventure can explore the challenging slopes of Waco Mountain. Barthala's influence is weaker on those bluffs than in Josa Forest itself, so thrill chasers won't be disappointed. Lose the path, slip on loose rocks, fall into a stream and spend a night wet and cold, there are many perils that come with traveling a mountain-side. Scattered ruins offer some shelter, their walls carved with images resembling Barthala, a dragon, and three other stranger creatures. While the deity's pacification does not flow as deeply through this region, all are still save from mortal wounds, and the veil cast over their memories will not lessen. If you have made it this far, however, there is no reason to try to return to the main city of Dranbu. Accommodations are always available in the neighboring villages: Phares in the north, and Stroln in the south. These villages are in friendly competition with one another, and will tempt travelers with women and men of their kind in order to draw in business to their hotels. FINAL OOC NOTES     No REP is available for this log. REP will now be primarily available through achieving NPC quests, which will be available on the 19th! Please keep an eye out for that! Dranbu is entirely available for exploration! You may find that most of Wyver and Olympia Flora/Fauna may be found in the forest as well. For more information on your characters' (opt-in) Metamorphosis, please refer to the November Outline! QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs ● bestiary taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp ● quest bulletin calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

[bellare]

[ yeah... awkward and yet still not the weirdest thing he's ever walked in on. by like, a lot actually. ]

I chased a wolf down here. You might want to pack it in.

[ it may not come across in his tone, but he really is sorry??? let's go tho. ]

[ettersberg]

I see.

[ nightingale feels like he's burning up, but he keeps his hands loosely at his side. it aches, but - it can't be helped, can it? ]

Very well, then. [ he's fine. he's perfectly fine. nothing to see here. (god, he wants so badly just to - no.) ]

[bellare]

[ frank remembers focusing on something and the whole scene changing and tries to think of what might help them now. both for nightingale's... predicament and the wolf sitch. he's distracted briefly, thinking of when joan tried to kiss him, but that's unhelpful. he brings his sleeve up to his face to keep from breathing too deeply in case the toxin is still in the air, and then he's focusing all of his energy in trying to change the weather. though he's perfectly comfortable, he imagines what the other man must feel like - baking in his skin, trapped, overheating - and abruptly, the temperature drops a good 15 degrees. the windchill is even cooler than that and he hopes it deters the wolf and helps nightingale... chill as he climbs the steep incline to their next destination, seemingly unaffected by the cool weather even as frost gathers on the leaves around them - like a snowstorm in the middle of spring. ]

It didn't look... normal. Like it was mutated or - I don't know.

[ ...he's talking about the wolf. ]

[ettersberg]

[ ordinarily, the mention of something extra-ordinary and potentially magical in nature would be enough to gain and keep nightingale's attention. for the last decades before the storm, his task had been to keep her majesty's peace with regard to the magical community and crimes committed by said community. to investigate magical occurrences was part of it, though he was not always equally diligent in the task —the war had an effect on him, too, no matter how much he excelled at hiding it, no matter the pedestal some put him on.

right now? the mention of a mutated wolf earns frank only a non-committal noise in response, at least at first. he does feel too hot, like his skin is too tight, cock still heavy and overly sensitive between his legs, reminding him with every step and every shift of how badly he wants, needs to be touching himself.

he doesn't. instead, after a few minutes of the colder temperatures, he asks— ]

Was it this cold before? [ he knows it wasn't, but he also knows he hasn't been paying much attention. ]

[bellare]

[ he can tell the other man is still distracted and wonders if he shouldn't have let him finish despite the apparent danger he believes them to be in. he can't change it, like so many other times in his life, all he can do is trudge forward. ]

I thought it would help.

[ you, he doesn't say, sounding defensive as it is. he blows out a puff of air, watching the cloud of oxygen fill in front of him before dissipating. ]

Think about dead puppies or something, we have to speed up.

[ he's really great at advice, but he hears a crunch stops nightingale with the good ol' "dad arm" across his chest. frank draws his 1911 from his waist and pulls back the hammer, slowly bringing both hands together to put on the weapon. is this beast gonna show itself or what? ]

[ettersberg]

—It does. [ nightingale admits after a moment. it gives him something else to try and focus on than the burning need inside of him. the dad arm across his chest, on the other hand, doesn't help at all. nightingale stops himself from leaning into it with some effort. it's barely a touch, but right now, even 'barely' is tempting.

but frank draws his weapon and nightingale forces himself to stand straight, to distribute his weight evenly, to ignore the way he's still hard and desperate for any kind of touch, be it at his own hand or that of someone else. he doesn't think of dead puppies, but he thinks of necessity and of responsibility and duty. it doesn't help with the need, but it helps him focus. ]

The gun will not be necessary. [ he tells frank, tone firmer now. if (when) the beast comes, nightingale will be ready. he says a few words in latin, holding a hand out in front of him and a shield spell takes shape around them, invisible safe for how the air seems to break a little oddly. ]

[bellare]

[ he feels a wave of relief when nightingale admits he helped, he had learned to harness the forest relatively quickly to his whims once he'd realized that's what was happening. still, true magic isn't something he's ever seen before. he lets out a small, stunned breath as the man encapsulates them in... what? some type of forcefield? frank swallows but agrees to put his gun away with a tight nod, slipping it back into its holster at his hip. ]

That's new.

[ettersberg]

It's a shield of sorts. [ nightingale elaborates —though it isn't really much of an elaboration, pressed out as it is, his breathing still a little more shallow than normal, his body still more sensitive than it should be.

any creature that will attack them now will run into the shield as though it were a wall, solid and impenetrable. ]

[bellare]

Wouldn't have minded having that trick overseas.

[ it's idle, nothing all that serious to his tone, it's just... neat is all. frank turns to him after another moment of watching snow repel from their bubble. ]

Have you always been able to do that?

[ettersberg]

I learned as a child.

[ magical boarding school was a thing. ]

[bellare]

[ okay that's interesting - ish. he knows people come from different worlds, but it's still hard to fathom in practice. ]

What I meant was, can everyone do this where you're from?

[ettersberg]

Oh. No.

[ he's still a little distracted from —well, everything he still feels, the state he's still in. the conversation and keeping the shield up help, at least. ]

There are very few who can.