Darkness had fallen over the campsite that Baird had impressively thrown together. The crackle of firewood against the slight chill of the night had her huddling in close. A muddy silk shawl was simultaneously drying, and keeping her warm and wrapped up as she eagerly awaited whatever was simmering in the pot on the fire. Fireflies danced off in the distance, the occasional burst of light in the inky blackness begetting moments of hope. Were she a poet, surely it would have been easy to find quite inspirational. Unfortunately, different society was chosen for her, the poets secret would be forever illusive. Speak of inspiration however, there was another secret she had been holding in wait…



“So uh… do you drink? I have a couple different bottles in my pouch that could tide us through the night if you are interested!” Serena said with mild excitement. She shuffled a small pack around under her shawl, and buried her head within to dig through it. “Lets seeeeeee, Looks like I have a bottle of Madame Minervas Cauldron of Whimsy (1). Aaand a bottle of pure distilled Moongladean Spirits (2). You take one I’ll take the other?” She held out both bottles to the beastman Baird, a gleam in her eye like this was one of the best ways she knew to connect with new friends.





Quest Name: Calls in the night

Participants: Two or more

Location: Marsh Flats

Post Requirements: 4 post per person, 200 words per post

Description: A night or two into your search, you begin to hear voices coming from the woods, but only at night. These voices are faint and far, but are calling out for you! You can occasionally hear your name being beckoned into the void of the swamp, and while this would normally be enough to send you running the other way, you know this is the work of a Bogaboo, the very thing you are after. So, to do your job, you trek out into the swamp hoping to find this mysterious monster. But its a very elusive creature and finding it comes with it's own obstacles. Mud, bugs, thick vines, thorny bushes and more stand between you and your goal.

1 Witches Brew

MAT



A dark black bottle filled with thick liquid that shimmers a deep purple color. When this potion is consumed the drinker will be filled with dark magic for a sort period of time. For the rest of the topic the drinker may choose any spell from the dark domain shop, but can only choose one. They can cast that spell for the rest of the topic regardless of their skills (must still follow the rules of the spell)

2 Spirit Bottle

MAT



A bottle of silver, milky liquid, tied with a cord. When this bottle is opened and the drink is consumed, the user has their eyes opened to ghosts and spirits, glazing over and becoming silver like the moon. For the next three post you can see anything under an invisible effect, including things unseen by magic or abilities. You can also see ghost and spirits that may have remained on Charon, even able to speak and communicate with them for a moment. Can be consumed once per topic.

   A delectable sauté: leafy greens, sliced mushrooms, and bass fillets. As delicious as it is healthy! Especially with a couple pinches from the sealed spice vessels at Baird's haunches. Great for the journey ahead, they will need every advantage they could get. While agitating the ingredients over the heat, Baird looks out to the world around them. The beauty of the Marsh is enough to bring every kind of emotion out from the beastman's heart. Shaking off the sea of memories that come with home, he remembers to keep his eye out for the less.. harmless pieces of beauty out in that thinning fog.

    The awkward quiet between the two was broken with Serena's warm inquiry. Baird tried to stifle an oinking chortle before responding with thinly disguised intrigue, "Ha, I do dabble." He'd continue as she fished through her bag, "I don't often have the luxury to drink, so I'm going to take it slow with whatever you've got." 

    Once the choices are presented, Baird brought a thinking finger to tap at a whetter as he pondered a moment. "I get the feeling I ought to branch out some. I can't remember the last time I had anything from Moonglade!" If given the chance, he'd gingerly take the bottle in hand, admiring the shimmering metallic liquid, then return it back. "Let me fix you a plate while you pop those open. I'd say we are fine for a little treat!" 

    Baird is often wading in questionable waters, so most of his pouches are filled with sealed porcelain jars or metal vessels. Though actual dishes like plates are often considered 'too extravagant' a thing for the wanna-be-tough-guy, he does carry a bundle of soap to wipe down whatever he does use. For this, he had a couple sheets of bark stripped, washed, and dried nearby. Fixing up a helping of today's special, he holds out a meal to Serena.

Two corks pop from their prisons as the meals are passed out. She graciously bows as she accepts her own, and returns the favour with the bottle of MG Spirits. Her own bottle raises into the air.



“A toast then! To ridding the Plight of Palugen! Cheers!” She exlaims, her echoes in the surrounding swampland joining the melody of crickets and lost toads. Taking a deep swing of her own, she begins to dig into her own meal, the silence of eating only permeated by the odd croak.



The fork raised to her mouth paused the moment she heard it. About a minute had passed since their toast… and then another lone and quiet _{“Cheeeeerrrrssss”} echoed from the swamp below, almost inaudible over the crackle of wood in the fire.



“Did…you hear that?” She asked, looking around the foggy night only to see the dim illumination of fireflies wandering down below. “Must’ve been the wine! Sorry to spoooook ya. Oh! Speaking of which, you’re from the swamp! Do you know any good scary stories? All the ones from my childhood largely revolve around not wandering off in the snow, or of long lost abominable men wandering the mountains during blizzards.”

    From one pair of hands went the plate, into another came the bottle. A grinning, "Cheers!" before a slow, air-supped pour from lip to lip. Baird being no connoisseur, could only delight in a myriad flavors of which he couldn't possibly place. Elderberries? Very tasty dirt? Maybe it was just too complex. The burn did produce a bizarre face from the boar, as his nose scrunched tight and eyes bugged a tad. He'd remark, "Ah, Salina, what a ride. Thank you!" Together, they'd dig in to an odd dish-pairing to go with the drinks.

    The dark was deep, even for Baird's own eyes.^[1] The fire he'd been staring at while he cooked kept his pupils constricted. He stared at the distant black that slowly retreated while he ate. After a minute, Serena notices a faint sound that manages to evade Baird's ear. Yet there was something else instead: "Under the water." It sent a chill from tail to brow along the superstitious beastman. Serena's follow-up would be a balm, reminding him that they were after an undead horror. It likely wasn't the wine, but weird noises in an untamed swamp at night wasn't a stretch.

    After a moment, Baird's mind would catch up to the words spoken to him. An interesting question, indeed, "Oof, scary stories? Hmm.. Ah, funny. Now that you mention it, since my parents mainly sailed around the Ash Lands before moving here, they had more to tell of the like. My ma and pa would try and curb my dreams of adventure with tales of deadly days at high sea. As you can surmise, that didn't quite work." A stifled oink-like chuckling vibrated out his long snout. "Though the elders of my village did give us young plenty to caution. Spirit Callers told us much of that which befell the dead. Ginma, did I want to be one... Let me tell ya about the twins! Classic story." 

    Baird cleared his throat and adjusted his posture for effect, "Long ago, a pair of gremlins lived within the village as it was just forming. Identical twins, Queela and Nancy. They may have looked just the same, but Queela was always cheerful and smiling compared to the dour, sour Nancy. One day, they were told to fetch a bundle of hearthmoss to warm their home. ("Of course! We will return shortly.") replied Queela. ["I hate the cold. I guess we have to."] continued Nancy." Baird would put on what can be interpreted as an imitation of these kids, but 'malleable' isn't a good description of his voice. "So the twins went to the storehouse at one end of the village. Through a window carved into the deadwood, they saw a dancing twinkle among the mists. ("So magical! We should see if it is fae looking for a home!") ["We should tell the elders first."] But the twinkling was meandering away as though lost. ("We must go now or it may never be found again!") ["I must come with you, it is too dangerous outside."] So they dashed from the storehouse towards the light. ("Lost fae! Come to us and we can keep you safe!") Queela shouted out. The twinkle held still in the air for a moment before erratically shaking about. ["I don't like this, sister. The mist feels thick and my head grows foggy.] ("Then we must hurry to save the poor thing!") Alas, as they drew closer, the visage of a fairy could be seen within the light. However, it was tugging at a mass of spike moss. The fairy spoke, {"This moss spreads a deadly air, you shouldn't be here! I can help protect your people, but I must be swallowed whole. Choose quick and eat me!"} Without hesitation, Nancy grabbed the fairy and shoved it into Queela's mouth. Nancy's beloved sister grew pale as the magical creature moved into her gullet. She fell over dead. The fairy emerged from her mouth with a single large seed that glowed just as bright. With her strength quickly fading, Nancy cried at the fairy, ["My sister is dead. Why did you lie?"] {"It was no lie. I will fill this seed with your essence and the gourd it produces will warn all others of this moss. However there is nothing I can do for either of you. Your sacrifices won't be in vain."} And that is why we have swampkins! The glowing core of the fairy's magic forever enchanting the plant with the face of Queela's smile or Nancy's frown to warn of dangerous gas. The end!" 

---

^[1]Night Vision

Her intense attentiveness towards the story of the beastman drew her closer. Leaning over the plate as his tale wound round her brain and the soft warmth of liquor began to work its way to her senses. Dim whispers caressed her conscious as she grew lost in the story, a tragic warning to all. Were they in danger now? Was there no tale to prevent them from succumbing to the beast within the swamp? Were they the progenitors of a cautionary tale as Nancy and Queela had been, and will be known only as fools to the future generations?



The ending abruptly shook her back to reality, her head shaking to rid herself of the comforts of despair. “That’s hilarious, if that had truly happened, I too would be wary of the mosses and gourds. Though, I wonder if it is more a warning against the moss or faekind? Either way, an excellent telling! Bravo! Perhaps you were a bardic storyteller in a past life?” Her smile widened as she clapped for the tale.



A delicious meal, good booze, and cultural enrichment with a new friend. There was little more she could ask for. But there was still a gnawing fear at the back of her mind that this might truly be their end.



“This is a silly question, but are you scared? Of what we shall soon face that is. Not as though we would be the first to go after such a “Bogaboo”. Don’t get me wrong, not having second thoughts or anything. I guess it’s just the atmosphere getting to me is all, haha.” She said, shifting uncomfortably on the wide rock she had chosen for a seat.

Serena had slid the package she was smuggling underneath the stone already, right next to whatever was already there. strange markings from a rival smuggler no doubt, but it was none of her business. The sunning stones were a pretty common dead drop for couriers, but still. why two packages out here with a known monster nearby? Some secret society probably looking for easy ritual materials without going to the cities probably. Take it easy Serena...

    Baird nodded and basked in Serena's compliments. "Ah, we pride ourselves on our stories. The Storyteller is our most revered, I can't hold a candle to any who hold that position. Though I will say that the swampkins are a fantastic blessing! Treat sickness, ingredients for spells and alchemy, and the face does warn us of danger. Smile, go wild; Frown, go around." 

    Baird had done this before for folk residing where he went, but there is something special in getting to share a snippet of his people with a fellow traveler. All this wine-lined fine dining and kindly opining had consigned his mind to binding findings. The thoughts of who Serena was to tempt fate so daringly with nothing less than a smile. He knew he didn't have the friendliest appearance at first, yet she has trusted him with going this far away from anywhere in particular. The sudden itch in the back of his head sent a wash of sorrow through the boar, who realized that he was being duped or used for something. He had to be.

    Though the next thing he heard was an admittance of fear. She wasn't going back on what they came here for. Baird can be thankful that at least her intentions of helping his people, for one reason or another, are true. His eyes were somewhat transfixed onto the bottle in his hands. He spoke with as much pep as he could to mask the sudden sullen mood, "I truly don't blame you. The wild swamp isn't even that comforting to us who've lived all their upbringing in it. I suppose that I am not too scared. To tell the truth, it is ghosts that scare me most. The Bogaboo is haunted, sure, and horrible, definitely, but it is still bones which can be broken. Unlike spirits that I can't-"

    He looked up from his bottle and saw Serena. Along with several others. A grem man of impressive stature with pale-glossed eyes and the tip of a long knife poking from out of his chest. A gnome woman dripping with water that flowed from her mouth like breath. A handful of others with myriad maladies that were clearly fatal in their own way. Last to come into view were a pair of twins, still young children, one with a frown and another with a smile.

    The cheerful girl clapped a hollow sound with her hands while the serious one spoke in a voice like listening to someone beyond a thick, thick window, "You're telling is better than most. We're glad your Spirit Callers keep our warning alive." Baird froze like a cockatrice had just plunged through his heart. His shimmering eyes darting between the figures that stood atop the low-fogged water. The grem spoke next, "Under the water. Our remains are coming. Be ready."