[DROP] through the mist, through the woods

The howling is endless. It has been going on for nights now, and the swamp grows restless with its mournful cry. Rumours have reached their fingers out far and wide, telling stories of this phenomenon; that it belongs to something wounded deep within the swamp; that it's just a trick of the wind; that it's a lure of some kind. One thing is clear, however, especially to those who gather on this, the fifth night, along the fringes of the Sallow Swamp. The howling is human. Welcome to a SPOOKY LEAFCHANGE DROP! There is +3 LUCK on offer for whoever wins this Drop. Please post your characters arriving at the fringes of the Sallow Swamp (yes, you will be aware of one another) within the next 48 hours! WARNING: This Drop may be dangerous and may result in injury to your characters. Death is unlikely, but may occur in rare cases of bad luck and/or stupidity, or some combination thereof. RANDOM EVENT these woods are lovely dark and deep

M i l d e w

Stars move slowly in a silvery night
Far away on the other side

The Feverlands had recently been welcoming many new guests into it's tree-lined halls lately; Mildew had heard all kinds of things. Snippets of conversations, complaining adventurers hoping for a more pleasant stroll and her fellow Demi-Gods making their first forays into the Wilds.

She hadn't heard anything quite like this before, though. At first she was hesitant to investigate the sound, knowing well enough that some things were best left alone, but Mildew found she could not ignore it after so long. The howling was pained, loud and more importantly, distinctly human. Not a creature of the swamp in it's last death throes, but someone in trouble.

Eventually, she had sighed, gathered some things and headed towards the Sallow Swamp to see what was wrong. Approaching quietly and carefully, Mildew peered around a tree on the outskirts to see if she could spot the source of the howling.

Will you come to talk with me this night?
But she couldn't find how to push through

---

With an eagle's ears, that howling was audible way too far away, and so Arialla came, drawn by the sound of human suffering. She flew over the swamp in great circles, trying to peer between the leaves of its trees to figure out what was going on, but to no avail. It looked like she'd have to get under the branches for this one -- or, at least, someone would have to. Arialla's keen eyes might not have managed to pierce the canopy, but they had spotted movement: Mildew, whom Arialla recognized as her one-time host and benefactor.

Arialla swooped down near Mildew and dropped to the ground in human form, saying, "We meet again. Do you know what that is?"

She hoped that the demigod had an answer besides someone in pain, which Arialla had already surmised for herself; she also hoped that Mildew would have some idea what to do about it.

Arialla

Freedom. Flight. Grace. Keen-sight.

"Golden Eagle - Mongolia" by carfull...from Wyoming is licensed with CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Seren

Curiosity killed the cat, or so the saying went, but many forgot that satisfaction brought it back - and that cats have nine lives. Whether the same could be said for nosy demigods was uncertain, but Seren was willing to take a chance.

She stepped out of her portal some ways away from the specified section of the swamp, and had a fun time making her way towards the right place. Most might not call trudging through mud and getting the hair tangled up with twigs and leaves and acquiring a tail of penolaeth prospecting for new real estate fun.... But most people weren't Seren, either.

Her adventurous smile had faded away by the time she found Mildew and Arialla, however, and the girl offered the woman a quick wave of a hand rather than her customary grins. The screaming did not exactly encourage merrymaking, and the darkness made her a little skittish.

"Hi. I suppose you haven't seen anything yet...?" she asked softly, just loud enough to make herself heard over the incessant howling.

Battle born they send us
Covered in our noble blood

sleep don't visit, so i choke on sun // and the days blur into one

It’s as a dragon that the Flood arrives, one that has a rider atop him as they make it to the swamp, on the heels of the mournful cry. It tugs at Sunjata, one that he keeps hidden from Nate as his wings pump and he prepares to land somewhere around the swamp that’s hopefully less deep, less likely to make it where they can’t get out. After all, Sunjata never had the best luck when it came to mud.

What do you think it is? He rumbles to his husband as he lands, clawed feet sinking and squelching into the mud of the swamp. Rumors said it’s human but… Something about that howling specifically didn’t seem to ring as wholly human to Sunjata.

He can see others arrive as well, despite standing somewhere a bit further away from them all. His head tilts back toward Nate, sharp teeth parted as he lets a steel eye scan his husband to make sure he was still holding on alright.

and the backs of my eyes hum with things i've never done

SUNJATA

rawr bitch

He keeps near the edge of the gathering, jaguar eyes cutting through whatever darkness there may be. He's not entirely keen on joining the conversation, even if he can feel the other's there. Locke can see Seren and he can feel Sunjata, which is still a bit strange to him. That's neither here nor there. Curiosity really will likely kill the cat, hence him being here. Howling in the woods? Of course he was going to go.

Another moment and he can't help himself, shifting back to his human form to make his way over to Seren. Or closer anyway. He's not sure how she feels about him, all things considered. He still cares about her though and he said he'd be around to back her up in a fight. This might not be a bar brawl but hey, it's something!

LOCKE

- NATE -

do you feel at home? your flames are burning higher
your circumstance is dire, don't panic. you're frantic

Nate has gotten wholly too used to being on the back of a dragon in the recent weeks, though this trip is far more pleasant than his last, even with the destination in mind. Curiosity, instead of a coup.

Something fucked up, knowing this place. He answers alongside a snort, trying to do what he can to keep his mind from wandering towards it too much, the sound setting his teeth on edge easily, immediately. As soon as Sunjata is on somewhat firm ground, Nate rises to his feet on the dragon's back, balancing along his spine to get a birds-eye view before hopping off.

No one else has arrived yet that he feels the need to acknowledge, let alone greet, so he focuses instead on the howling, and on kicking the slick mud off his boots. His hand lifts to stroke along Sunjata's scaled snout, his palm glowing where they touch. A whistle leaves his lips, a curious response to the howling and an activation for his arrow.

this is your hell, dancing for something that was
true to you, how do you do? say it's me.

Melita

I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles

Why wouldn’t there be howling out in the endless abyss?

Customary things – terrible, horrible, twisted definitions of the world had become habitual. It wasn’t to say that it didn’t bother her, that it didn’t pulse in her blood, that it didn’t make her snag Fangorn tighter in her grip, shoulder the weapons within her bag or along her back.

But it also made her wonder if they could help. Was it too altruistic, even now, when the lands ached for disaster and ruin? To strive and try?

She didn’t know, but the honeybee had always gone steadily against the grain.

Her eyes searched the perimeter of the swamp, spying Seren nearby – and then her uncles along the boundaries too. Uncertain and unsure, she proceeded, then waited, adrift, eyes narrowed and speculating, waiting for something else to shudder and shatter through.

and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me

Maeve

Aurelia would likely have her skin if she knew that she was out here doing this, but it felt important to go and investigate. Despite the distance between the swamps and Torchline, it could still be a potential threat and Maeve wasn't going to let it go without at least poking around. The familiar jaguar form of Locke caught her attention as did Sunjata's dragon, but she gave the latter a large berth, instead finding her way towards Seren and Locke. The two would likely be upset that she was out here as well in her condition, but she was prepared for that backlash.

Armed with her bow made for her by Remi, the Accepted stepped forward, lingering at the edge as she listened to the howling that came from deep within. Her bag filled with any necessary survival things that might be needed. Water, first aide, rope, and a number of other things. She was prepared for the worst, but hoping for the best.

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet
Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

JACK

hellraiser
risk taker

"You've got to be fuckin' kiddin' me." Jack's grumble is under his breath - mostly at having to trudge through the swamp after his crew, but also at the gathered crowd and the intensity of the howling that rattles through his bones. He draws up beside Melita - naturally - and folds his arms across his chest as he gazes into the depths of the swamp ahead.

"This isn't gonna end well for anyone," he mutters, narrowing his eyes. "But I'm sure you know that already." All in all, fuck it. Inhaling deeply, Jack turns his attention to the wet mud and the dark, clawing branches, and prepares to get swallowed up into the belly of the beast. Who knows - maybe there'll be something worth it at the end.

full speed ahead
'til i'm dead

RONIN

By the time Ronin arrives, quite a crowd has already formed. He's been taking the long way home (aka letting his nimbus drift wherever the hell it likes and dealing with the consequences later) when he hears the rumours about the howling.

And now, in the dead of night, here he is, strolling through the throngs where everyone is gathered. There's something about the dragon he can sense nearby that has him very on edge, despite knowing it's Sunjata, and it's almost a relief when he finds himself drawing up on Seren's other side.

"This can only end well, mm?" he murmurs to his daughter, reaching out to muss her dark hair. "Be careful out here, okay? Not that I don't think you can't handle yourself."

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

Falke

He’d heard of the howling - or rather, someone had brought him news of it. The incessant, day-in-and-day-out sound that could not possible be human and yet undeniably is. So something is wrong (a conclusion they’ve likely all come to), and either something needs help or they’re all going to be attacked for their efforts.

Well, so be it. Such is the occasionally thankless realm of healthcare.

Touching the new compass tentatively, Falke double checks its security before moving closer, coming near Ronin and finding the demigod’s presence somewhat comforting. The Fixer’s attention, however, is not on the Huntsman, his compass, or his glove, but on the direction the sound is coming from, and he tries to steel his face against the uncertainty of what lies ahead.

oh we're human, only human

like a moth to a flame, flickering so dangerously

Base Code by Sky!

this pair of wings worn and rusted from too many years by my side

Amalia arrives because of course she does, though it is not without a healthy dose of terror as flashbacks race through her mind. Howling, screaming-- it reminds her too much of LongNight for her comfort, and as she lands beside him Ronin will doubtless feel the trepidation rolling off her in waves.

There are too many people here, too much risk, and too many that the girl knows. She nods to Seren, Arialla, Mildew, Falke; is keenly aware of Sunjata above; but it is the Huntsman whom she focuses on, reaching out to lay a hand urgently on his arm. Whatever it is, we have to keep them safe, she murmurs through the Attuned bond, a flash of red and shrapnel and pain coursing through her memories, unable to be held back. The last time they followed the sound of screaming into the dark Ronin had almost died. They're both stronger now, but the others?

Amalia wouldn't hold a child as he burst apart again.

You gather, poor dears, to listen to this mournful song. And the howling seems only to intensify as you cluster together, as if it - whatever it might be - is aware that it has an audience. The swamp is aware, too. Lights appear to dance within the trees, revealing along the ground a network of knotted roots and sharp stones. Overhead, a chittering echoes through the branches. Which will you follow? - The path of lights - The path of roots and stones - The path of branches You have 48 hours to respond. Please include your choice at the bottom of your post. RANDOM EVENT these woods are lovely dark and deep