Hey there stranger, lost your way? You have? Ha, unsurprising. It's dark out there, too damn dark. Cold too, I reckon. Yeah, you look freezin', hungry and tired. That's to be expected. You've had a long journey. Come sit by the fire, have a bite. I got meat cooking, rabbit to be precise. Fresh caught. I only got two rules in me camp; the first is no violence. You get violent, I'll send you out into the dark. Yep, a dark soul deserves to be in the dark. The second is that you gotta tell a story. Any story; about yerself, about others you know, about the myths of yer land. I don't care as long as it's a story. Want some stew? 'Course you do! Eat that up whilst we wait fer the others. Yeah, I said "others". There're always others, that's why I'm here; to help the ones who have lost their way. It won't be long, I reckon. Beautiful sky, ain't it? Yep, It's good to be on the wayside...
*******
Within the deepest darkness of the night, past the towering leatherleaf trees; through the razor-thorned tangles of rabbit trap - so named because of it's tendency to ensnare naïve woodland creatures - a fire lights a small, open area, beckoning to weary travellers. The Host sits upon an old tree stump, idly stirring the remains of his rabbit stew as his six guests stare expectantly into the fire, eyes searching the dancing flames for an answer that is not their's to know.
The six shift uncomfortably, but not because of their seats. No, the logs they rest upon are surprisingly comfortable, the warmth of the fire seeping through the aged wood, softening it. Shadows flick across their faces, distorting their features. Some of the guests play absently with their food, others spoon minimal amounts into their mouths. Silence holds them all.
"Don't ask how you got here," The Host says, glancing up from his bowl "Right now...I don't know." He shrugs, placing his bowl on the soft dirt at his feet. "Most people find themselves on the wayside at one time or another. Some even know how to avoid it altogether." Thumbing a pinch of tabac into his pipe, The Host grabs a twig and leans forwarding, holding it toward the fire. "Some find themselves eatin' my food pretty early on in their life, while others..." He pauses to light his pipe, taking a few thoughtful puffs before continuing." ...Others spend decades and decades until they have a chance to warm themselves by my fire."
The Host watches his guests silently, occasionally blowing smoke rings into the fire?s own grey plumes. A few glance up at him gloomily. Or maybe it?s just the dim light that casts the gloom across their faces. The Host suddenly snatches the pipe from his mouth as if a thought had just struck him. "Heck," he exclaims, "some people have been known to search me out just so's they can sit here and yap away to strangers!" He shakes his head, beard rustling against his chest. "I wouldn?t recommend it though. They say that you shouldn?t come looking for me 'cause I?ll always find you first." He places the pipe between his teeth again, this time allowing it to rest there. "Whether you know it or not, I?ll find you first."
A few moments of strained silence pass by; the crackling of firewood quiet, almost distant. The Host pulls a few clay mugs and a bottle of watery wine from behind the tree stump, fills his own and then passes the drink round the fire. Reluctantly, all the guests fill a mug. They're still uncertain, questions continue to hang off their tongues but refuse to let go. Refuse to venture further into the unknown. The Host takes a quick sip of his wine, grimacing at it's bitterness, before addressing the group again.
"You wanna know exactly where the wayside is?" Faint nods. The Host smiles, shrugging absently. "It's wherever I set up camp. The base of a mountain, a hidden cave," he spreads his arms wide, gesturing to the surrounding trees, eerily illuminated by the wan light. "A wooded thicket...The location don?t matter much." He scans the faces staring back at him. They appear tense, questions still fighting to get out. The Host methodically knocks his pipe on the stump and presses his boot onto the smouldering embers of the tabac. He sighs.
"I guess you wanna know where we are right now though, huh?" Hope flashes across the guest's faces. A trick of the light, perhaps. "If you look through the darkness, you'll see a seemingly endless trail of leatherleaves." The Host points in front of him, past his guests. They twist their necks, eyeing the tall trees looming somewhere in the pitch black. "Past those trees - about half a day's hike - is what I call Lantern Pass."
The guests slowly turn their heads back to look at The Host. Their uncomprehending faces spark a realisation with him, causing his face to flush and a full-bellied laugh to escape from inside his beard. The laugh stuns the guests at first, but they soon relax. Smiles split faces and a few are even chuckling quietly at The Host?s sudden and intense mirth.
Soon, The Host has calmed his laughter and, wiping his eyes on a sleeve, he continues. "What Kingdom are we in, right?" Nods of agreement from across the fire. The Host sighs, hesitating slightly, the first time his guests have seen him uncertain. "I?ve lived so long and travelled so far that I've long ago lost track of borders." He sniffs, staring into the flames, eyes piercing the heart of the fire. "Who rules where, which countries live and which countries die..." A tight shake of the head. "These things don?t concern me anymore." The Host shrugs at his guests, hands fiddling with his sleeves. "Besides," he says, clapping his hands together softly, "this far from anywhere, the word 'kingdom' doesn?t mean much!"
Time passes silently around the campfire once again, the guests digesting what little information they can from what The Host has told them. After a while, The Host clears his throat, garnering the attention of his guests. "Well, we have time to kill before I want the first story told...What are all your names?"
*******
Within the deepest darkness of the night, past the towering leatherleaf trees; through the razor-thorned tangles of rabbit trap - so named because of it's tendency to ensnare naïve woodland creatures - a fire lights a small, open area, beckoning to weary travellers. The Host sits upon an old tree stump, idly stirring the remains of his rabbit stew as his six guests stare expectantly into the fire, eyes searching the dancing flames for an answer that is not their's to know.
The six shift uncomfortably, but not because of their seats. No, the logs they rest upon are surprisingly comfortable, the warmth of the fire seeping through the aged wood, softening it. Shadows flick across their faces, distorting their features. Some of the guests play absently with their food, others spoon minimal amounts into their mouths. Silence holds them all.
"Don't ask how you got here," The Host says, glancing up from his bowl "Right now...I don't know." He shrugs, placing his bowl on the soft dirt at his feet. "Most people find themselves on the wayside at one time or another. Some even know how to avoid it altogether." Thumbing a pinch of tabac into his pipe, The Host grabs a twig and leans forwarding, holding it toward the fire. "Some find themselves eatin' my food pretty early on in their life, while others..." He pauses to light his pipe, taking a few thoughtful puffs before continuing." ...Others spend decades and decades until they have a chance to warm themselves by my fire."
The Host watches his guests silently, occasionally blowing smoke rings into the fire?s own grey plumes. A few glance up at him gloomily. Or maybe it?s just the dim light that casts the gloom across their faces. The Host suddenly snatches the pipe from his mouth as if a thought had just struck him. "Heck," he exclaims, "some people have been known to search me out just so's they can sit here and yap away to strangers!" He shakes his head, beard rustling against his chest. "I wouldn?t recommend it though. They say that you shouldn?t come looking for me 'cause I?ll always find you first." He places the pipe between his teeth again, this time allowing it to rest there. "Whether you know it or not, I?ll find you first."
A few moments of strained silence pass by; the crackling of firewood quiet, almost distant. The Host pulls a few clay mugs and a bottle of watery wine from behind the tree stump, fills his own and then passes the drink round the fire. Reluctantly, all the guests fill a mug. They're still uncertain, questions continue to hang off their tongues but refuse to let go. Refuse to venture further into the unknown. The Host takes a quick sip of his wine, grimacing at it's bitterness, before addressing the group again.
"You wanna know exactly where the wayside is?" Faint nods. The Host smiles, shrugging absently. "It's wherever I set up camp. The base of a mountain, a hidden cave," he spreads his arms wide, gesturing to the surrounding trees, eerily illuminated by the wan light. "A wooded thicket...The location don?t matter much." He scans the faces staring back at him. They appear tense, questions still fighting to get out. The Host methodically knocks his pipe on the stump and presses his boot onto the smouldering embers of the tabac. He sighs.
"I guess you wanna know where we are right now though, huh?" Hope flashes across the guest's faces. A trick of the light, perhaps. "If you look through the darkness, you'll see a seemingly endless trail of leatherleaves." The Host points in front of him, past his guests. They twist their necks, eyeing the tall trees looming somewhere in the pitch black. "Past those trees - about half a day's hike - is what I call Lantern Pass."
The guests slowly turn their heads back to look at The Host. Their uncomprehending faces spark a realisation with him, causing his face to flush and a full-bellied laugh to escape from inside his beard. The laugh stuns the guests at first, but they soon relax. Smiles split faces and a few are even chuckling quietly at The Host?s sudden and intense mirth.
Soon, The Host has calmed his laughter and, wiping his eyes on a sleeve, he continues. "What Kingdom are we in, right?" Nods of agreement from across the fire. The Host sighs, hesitating slightly, the first time his guests have seen him uncertain. "I?ve lived so long and travelled so far that I've long ago lost track of borders." He sniffs, staring into the flames, eyes piercing the heart of the fire. "Who rules where, which countries live and which countries die..." A tight shake of the head. "These things don?t concern me anymore." The Host shrugs at his guests, hands fiddling with his sleeves. "Besides," he says, clapping his hands together softly, "this far from anywhere, the word 'kingdom' doesn?t mean much!"
Time passes silently around the campfire once again, the guests digesting what little information they can from what The Host has told them. After a while, The Host clears his throat, garnering the attention of his guests. "Well, we have time to kill before I want the first story told...What are all your names?"
And so we begin. Hopefully this is sufficiently intriguing enough for you guys. Only one little rule for now: No one knows what - or where - Lantern Pass is except my character.
As is implied at the end of the OP, introduce yourselves! Afterwards, you can all talk amongst yourselves or ask my character any questions. As always though: REFRAIN from talking about how you came to be at the campfire. Your character does not remember the immediate events that brought them to it.
Aside from that...have fun. I'm pretty much done for tonight I think. I've been looking at this fucking screen all day so I'm gonna go do something else. See y'all later!
As is implied at the end of the OP, introduce yourselves! Afterwards, you can all talk amongst yourselves or ask my character any questions. As always though: REFRAIN from talking about how you came to be at the campfire. Your character does not remember the immediate events that brought them to it.
Aside from that...have fun. I'm pretty much done for tonight I think. I've been looking at this fucking screen all day so I'm gonna go do something else. See y'all later!
