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Xaltwind

~ The Human Villages ~

It has been an awfully rough autumn this year, the rain has been heavy, the winds have been harsh and the sun has been sparse while the skies have been abundantly cloudy nearly always. But those were all natural phenomenas, things that people could do nothing but suck up and deal with, for they could not make the Gods do as they wished, however.. There was also the problems with the spooked cattle, the missing storage-supplies, the dead, floating fish and houses that had been mysteriously repainted over the course of a night, in bright green... These were not natural occurences and was at first believed to be some kind of prank pulled by the younger and more restless of the population within the villages. But as time passed on and people tried keeping vigils to catch the culprits, they soon found that the cause was not the ill-bred and poorly raised children, but rather visitors who did not at all belong in the villages!

It would seem as though invaders from the world beyond had taken a liking to meddling and interfering with the humans and their lives. Something the humans, obviously, were not all that fond of at all! What, these dead fools thought they could just up and leave their graves and come back to cause trouble for those who had not yet left the realm of the living? Inexcusable! Upset farmers and fishermen verbally complained to their Elders, demanding that a soloution was to be had, or else there would be mutiny afoot! Amused, but also concerned, the Elders of each village decided that it was probably for the best if this situation be resolved and the restless undead dealt with. But how? They could not very well chase off the ghosts and spirits with their fishing and farming tooks, and it was even less likely that the ethereals would sit down, drink tea and reason with them about the importance of resting peacefully ever after.

So, what could be done? What would be done? Each village elder thought long and hard about what could be done, and how it should be carried out. Eventually, they each came to a similar conclusion. For while in their youth they had travelled the island, there was one place where people usually never went, and that was the mist and fog-filled heart of the isle. The ever-misty center of the island was like an entirely uncharted world where nobody dared enter and explore. Surely, yes surely this must be the location and cause for why the spirits and undead of the isle were suddenly causing so much trouble! Surely, something or someone within the thick fog was stirring up trouble and causing this situation to escalate! A decision was thus made.

Each of the Elders, from all three villages, told their people of their idea. They informed them of the mist-covered heartland, where nobody had ever gone to explore or investigate, how this must be the reason for why the root of the problem remained so well hidden and the only place where one was likely to find a soloution! The people, skeptics as they were, did not believe this to be true in an instant, and merely dismissed the propsed theory as nothing more than the wise-cracks and gibbering of old, senile fools. But as time passed on and more and more cows were painted purple, scared up into trees and houses turned upside-down (interiorly), the people soon realised they had no choice but to at least gamble on this idea. The Elders scoffed at their citizens' slow and reluctancy to accept their idea and, pulling of an act, were reluctant to even tell them of their plans.

But with enough whining, begging, grovelling at the feet and praises from the young, slender vixens of the populace, the Elderly leaders finally gave in and began to reveal their plans. It was so that they thought it best that someone go and explore the foggy heart of the isle, to chart and locate this unknown territory. If they could find the center, then the elders were sure that they would find the problem and could thus deal with it properly! ... The Elders failed to mention that the cause and root of the problem might be another ghost and that anybody who went was more than likely not going to be able to do anything about it, but hey, minor details never did anyhting but upset the masses! Each village thusly selected one or more people to form an expedition and travel to the heart of the isle, to find out what the cause might be.

How each village selected their expedition varied.

~ The Ethereals ~

While the humans busied themselves with preperations and planning for an investigation into the misty center of the world, the ghosts and spirits of the land were busy otherwise.Some of thse undead, those who dwelled around the inner reaches of the island, could as of late feel a strange, tugging sensation in their non-physical bodies. It was as if an invisible force was pulling at them, trying to drag them in a certain direction. And surprise, surprise! That direction just happened to be the center of the island, where the fog and mist never let up. Some ghosts and undead naturally resisted the urge and sensation, shrugging it off as nothing more than an itch or other pesky feeling.

Others however grew curious and interested in what it might be that had begun to pull and push them in that particular direction. Could it be that the center of the isle held the gates to the epaceful afterlife? Could it be a dimensional door to a playground for the undead? A shrine which would grant one another shot at being alive? The guesses were many and all pretty ridiculous, but what could you expect? Nobody had ever wandered into the misty heart of this island, not even the undead... Which was sort of odd when you think about it, it's not like there'd be any monsters around in there that could eat someone with an incorporeal body anyway, right?

Regardless! Over the course of time that passed, some undead could feel how the tug and pull decreased in intensity until it was all but gone, while other spirits and undead felt it strongly increase and get worse and worse. Why this was, how it was, or other similar questions all remained unanswered. And they would continue to remain unanswered until those affected by it made up their mind. Made up their minds and did what had to be done! Venturing to the heartlands and finding the source of this eerie sensation.

~ Center of the World ~

Ironically the center of the world was not the planet's core, but the misty center of the isle. Of course, scientists and scholars would probably disagree with this statement, but they are all non-existent or classed as witches and warlocks anyway, so why should we listen to them? Hah, take that educated and enlightened snoots!

Putting random insults aside, what was actually the center of the world? Was it just a no-man's land of mist and fog and haze where nothing lived, nothing entered and nothing left? No, no, far from it actually. While indeed there is an everlasting fog which shrouds the center of the world, this fog is nothing more than a circular wall which acts as a barrier. The mist and fog is so dense and compressed that it is quite impossible to see more than a few feet infront of oneself if you enter and being that there are no landmarks in the barrier, it is incredibly hard to determine which way you are going once you enter. Chances are, you'll stumble right back out the same way you came in. In terms of thickness, the wall of mist that surrounds the heart of the island takes roughly half an hour to fourty minutes to walk through, so as you might realise, it is quite thick!

But, assuming you do not get lost (and starve) in the wall of fog and somehow manage keep track of your direction, you will eventually emerge in the center of the world, the heart of the island. And just what exactly exists here in the heart? Why, there is a but a single, large, wooden, old-fashioned mansion standing. A mansion that looks to be in dire need of a remodelling and renovations-plan. At least on the outside. There is however, around the mansion, quite a large and very varied garden, containing flowers and shrubbries of all sorts. There are sunflowers and roses and lillies, berry bushes, thorn bushes and even some rocks with various kinds of moss! Ironically, the garden seems to be blooming flowers that are all out of season, meaning that spring and winter along with summer flowers are all blooming, despite it being autumn.

It is an odd sight indeed. But we are getting ahead of ourselves. What first needs dealing with, is those who are either sent to find this place, or those who feel drawn towards it...

DeSato

Yksihw opened her eyes. Then she closed them; the world was quite a bright place, it seemed.

With a mumble and a groan, the young spirit sat up and rubbed her heavy eyes. Should she try opening them again? It was a bit too bright last time she tried, and it’s never nice to open your eyes when it’s too bright. Yksihw assumed so, anyway; she had never actually opened her eyes before the last time she tried. She should probably give it another try, though; especially seeing as she didn’t know if she could do anything else.

Ah! Wait! She had already managed to sit up, hadn’t she; that was something. But wait… what was ‘up’? Yksihw didn’t know. She would probably find out once she opened her eyes, though. And, with that, the whole eye opening business seemed very important indeed. What if she did it wrong? Why, she might not be able to do anything else other than sit up; and she wasn’t even sure what that was! Yksihw was getting very nervous. Maybe she should just forget the whole thing. It might not be that important anyway.

No, she thought. She had to do this; it was important! She had now decided. How could she not?

Ok: she was ready. She would open her eyes: on three!... Wait, what was ‘three’? Oh, forget it, she thought. Yksihw opened her eyes.

The world was, indeed, bright; but, for some reason her eyes didn’t hurt this time. Had it got darker? What was ‘darker’? There were so many questions. At least now she had got her eyes open she was on the right track to answering them. She decided it would help if she looked around: so she did.

There certainly were a lot of things in the world. Some things were bigger than Yksihw, while others were smaller. So that’s what big and small are! Yksihw was very pleased by this revelation. Oh! ‘Pleased’ – that feels nice, she thought. She would have to try and be ‘pleased’ more often: it was quite nice. Right now though, she thought it best if she devoted her time to finding out more about these things in the ‘world’.

Humm… ‘Time’? What is ‘time’? No, no… she defiantly didn’t have ‘time’ for that question right now; back to the big and small things, she decided.
On closer inspection, it seemed it wasn’t just how ‘big’ or ‘small’ things were that made them look different. They had a certain ‘brownness’ or ‘greenness’ about them too. Oh! What were these ‘browns’ and ‘greens’? Tastes? No, that didn’t seem right… Colours? Yes, that seemed like it fit; she decided that they were colours. She quite liked colours, she wondered if there were any more. She would have to get up and find out: so she did.

Standing up she took another gaze around at the world. Oh! She suddenly realised; this is what ‘up’ is. She was glad to finally know. Humm… ‘Glad’, that’s quite like ‘pleased’. She wondered for a moment about what else she could feel, until her wandering eyes gazed down. Ah, ‘down’; that must be the small of up: she decided. She was even more ‘Glad’ now; she was answering a lot of question.

Just as she was in the middle of feeling ‘glad’ and still looking ‘down’, her eyes spied a very odd thing. It was a sort of ‘not’ colour, with a ‘brown’ colour inside it. She had no idea what it was, but what ever it was; she new it was important and so she decided to pick it ‘up’.

When she did she found it felt very odd, indeed. It didn’t feel like ‘pleased’ or ‘glad’; this was completely different. It felt… cold? Yes, that would do for now; though she didn’t feel like she had completely answered that one, there were a lot more questions that needed answering.

What else was in the world? What did it feel like? What did it look like? She wondered for a while about what else might be in the world; though, eventually she decided it would be best if she moved around a little bit and found out: so she did.

It wasn’t long before she came across lots of other things that made her ask lots of other questions. She just wanted to answer them all! Could she? Yes, she was sure she could. She had answered so many already, after all, like ‘what is up?’. She would move around and answer all the questions she could! This was the start of her adventure! She didn’t know what an ‘adventure’ was, of course, but she defiantly thought she would find out soon.

Whisper

A old woman was bickering with the merchant, it was three apples and she wanted to bring down the price, Amelia noted to her self that it was bartering not just bickering, even though the old woman- had a very nice hair pin, it wasn’t actually holding her hair up, so it would be easy to swipe.
Amelia shook her head, she was getting distracted again, the old woman now looked as if she would hit the merchant, two apples and a particular hair pin were gone before any one could bat an eye at the punch the merchant received.

The jade hair pin looked nice in the light, in the shape of a snake rearing its head, adding the ruby in its eyes and the other little precious stones that made up some scales; it was a very pretty piece all in all.
The thief put the pin in her own hair with a smile and kept walking, her teeth biting into an apple while the other slipped into her pocket. The woman’s eyes scanned over the crowd in the bazaar, none of them knowing, none of them caring about anything else but getting the best bargains at that moment.

Amelia chuckled to her self and took out her knife; the well polished blade glinted in the light as it cut pieces out of the shiny red apple, she didn’t want to get apple juice on her face after all.
By the time she reached the stall she had been looking for, she had already finished her apple, the core and its exposed seeds were all that was left. Amelia sighed and dropped it then looked up with a smile at the sword smith, “do you sharpen blades?” she asked kindly, her eyes taking in every expression the man showed as his eyes met hers.

She looked thick to say the least, rich, but thick, the cloak she was wearing was clearly new and also clearly expensive (stolen too but no one who knew was mentioning that), her eyes showed nothing, not no emotion, simply knowing nothing.
It was a sad sight on a pretty girl, Amelia even caught a hint of pity for her, this man was known to be good at bargaining but he didn’t even have to try with a girl who looked like this.
How very wrong he was, Amelia used his gullibility, just as he tried to use hers, “I’m sorry, you’ll have to buy a whet stone for that” he then pointed at the small basket, and quoted a price that was well over the top.
Amelia pointed at a dagger behind him instead and before he had even picked the item off the wall, a stone was gone. With a sigh and a silly grin, The woman shook her head and walked away, the small stone didn’t even show as it sat in her pocket.

She didn’t know whether is was from what went on when her father punished her, or perhaps from her close calls with the guard, or even the pin in her hair. But when someone screamed “Thief!” Amelia turned and frowned at the shouter, they seemed to be pointing at her, with an innocent look though, the woman walked over to the guard.
“Did you mean me?” She asked with a smile, the old woman was next to her, clearly having seen the pin in the thief’s hair. The guard looked dumfounded that she walked up to him, yet the ex-owner of the pin was adamant “I want my hair pin back” the old woman snarled, Amelia frowned and removed the hair pin from her hair and looked at it, “my mother gave this to me, it is mine I assure you” she was calm and collected.

“Check the dragon’s nose, it had a chip, it always annoyed me when I was a child, my father gave it to me I remember it too well” the guard frowned as he looked at it, “it’s a snake, not a dragon” he said sounding tired or bored. The old woman blinked in surprise as Amelia put it back in her hair, “thank-” the old woman it seemed was not done yet, “Snake or dragon, I don’t care, check the nose, it is mine!”
Amelia sighed and nodded her thanks to the guard who was now ready to restrain the old woman, it was a tiny crack in the nose not a chip anyway, tut tut.

ScarletRemilia

"NEXT!" came a cry within a certain restaurant, the wooden building housing one of the most popular chefs and service in the village despite it's rather lackluster outer appearance, though that wasn't much to say as it was the first restaurant, the idea of a dine-in was a new idea at the time. It seemed the restaurant was to enjoy a hefty paycheck that day, as a certain individual nestled inside, a female, seemed intent on feeding herself to death.

This, in the very least, was what the owner, head chef and that day, waiter, of the restaurant had believed. After all, if someone were to eat that much food, how could they possibly run away? Oh how very, very wrong...

"My, my, what a stomach you have there... This is your 30th helping. Well, here's your next serving miss, a simple dish of our finest fish, herbs and spices. I hope you'll be pleased with it," smiled the waiter through gritted teeth. Despite the fact that this would most likely be very good business in terms of the bill that the young miss before him would be charged, he was beginning to have to refuse service to others... The restaurant’s food storage was running low.

The scent of foods many and various in abundance saturated the air within the restaurant, wafting out the door and windows that remained open to vent out that which was previously mentioned. The young girl only nodded as she began to gouge on her next bowl of food, a very wide smile written across her face, the food was delicious, perhaps some of the best fish, beef and chicken she had ever had! Never the less, as soon as the dish had been served she had finished it, the seemingly limitless stomach of the female giving the waiter a nervous sweat as she cried once more for the thirty-first time, "Next!"

Though this time it was different for the waiter and restaurant owner, he stood firmly on the ground and placed a hand upon his hip, "Listen, I'm not sure how you put that all away, but it doesn't matter if you can pay up. But before I serve you anything more I need a promise that you'll pay me."

The girl tilted her head as the man in front of her spoke, luminous green orbs staring intently, waiting, a smile still visibly written on her visage. As the message finished the girl's face warped from a smile to something similar to that of a child that had just been separated from its favorite stuffed toy and its mother at the same time. The waiter gave a sigh and resigned to his fate, at least slightly, "Fine, fine, this will be your last dish, then you'll have to pay up and leave. I have other customers to serve you know! This is the first eat-in place of its kind you know."

A glowing smile returned, the waiter sighed again and stepped into the kitchen, orders could audibly be heard being barked from the cooking area as chefs worked furiously as if they were cooking for twenty people. Soon, the dish was served and the girl, much unlike the previous 31 dishes, took her time to eat this one, savoring the food before swallowing it. As the final bit of food, a soup of some sort, trickled down her throat and disappeared to whatever endless void that inhabited her surprisingly slender waist, the girl set the plate down and... Disappeared.

The waiter, of whom had been standing there at that time fell backwards on his rump, the girl had disappeared before his very eyes, even more surprising was a voice in the air, a melodic, charming and almost beautiful voice, "I'll pay you back with interest some time! Thanks for the great food!"

Sariel, as the waiter was known as, could only wipe the sweat from his brow and the tears that fell from his eyes as the voice trailed away, accompanied by a youthful, if not rather cute, giggle. He felt as if his entire livelihood had been stolen, which... considering the massive pile of roughly 107 plates that had freshly been eaten from that littered the table and the wash basin in the kitchen said, it was his livelihood.

Needless to say, the ghost was satisfied and, to Sariel's glee, repaid the restaurant in full, with interest as promised, in the form of two incredibly large carved diamonds accompanied by a bag of pure-gold pebbles of unknown origin.

The ghost, who revealed herself as Amira to those living and undead alike, floated invisibly amongst the bustling crowds of the fishing village, her signature clear and lively smile visible on her face. As time progressed a very strange and inexplicable urge to leave the village was felt both physically, well... as physically as a ghost can get... and mentally, an urge to leave and to go to the center of the world! Oh, maybe there was some food there... or maybe some friends! Or both! Oh... the possibilities.

Fish Soup

The sounds of the lapping ocean woke Lethario up, as it always did. Gently swinging out of his hammock he landed lightly on his feet.

"Another day of meaninglessness" he muttered to himself.

He strapped his breeches onto his thin waist with a leather belt, then rifled through some pouches on his belt, pulling out a smaller pouch. He placed this pouch on one of the few pieces of furniture in his hut, and opened it. From inside he pulled out a leaf of tobacco, and large pinch of the same substance. He carefully rolled himself a crude cigarillo, walked a few steps outside the hut, and punched the end of it into the embers of his nightly fire pit. He took a long drag, staring at the ocean. The weather was cooling down, he could feel the bitter chill on his leathery skin already.

He'd done nothing but fish, all day, every day, for ten years. There were occasional drunken nights at the tavern, lots of drunken nights at home alone, but in the end, that's how he always ended up. Alone.

"I should get a dog. Or change my vocation" He muttered, taking another drag off the cigarillo. He went back inside the hut and threw on a ragged cotton shirt. The same one he wore most days. It smelled of sweat, fish, and salt water. Fishing solo didn't pay much. If you were running some sort of big, multi-person, small raft-big net operation, fishing was lucrative, but for Lethario, the fish he caught was enough to trade for crude alcohols, tobacco, and occasionally something other than fish to eat. He couldn't afford clothes, couldn't afford furniture, couldn't afford a plot of land in the village, nor could he afford to live in the village. He was trapped in this life of day in day out monotony.

Lethario threw on his most expensive article of clothing, a leather cloak with a cotton inside. Not fashionable, but quite practical.Keeps the rain out and the warmth and comfort in. It was needed. He couldn't afford not to fish on rainy days. He stuffed his tobacco pouch back into his belt, strapped his knife to his leg, put on his fish basket, placed some nets inside of it carefully, to avoid them getting tangled, snatched up his fishing spear and two wooden fishing rods and took one final look at his hut for the day. He remembered his lucky hat, and placed his trademark straw hat on his head. He took a last drag of the cigarillo, pushed himself outside the hut, and tossed the butt of it into the ember pit.

"I hate this"

Flower Girl

swish
swish
swish
swish
thumpthumpthumpthumpthump
"Cynthia's awake."
"Yes, I'd noticed."
"Well, with any luck, she'll go bother someone else today."
"That'd be nice. I would like to get the cleaning finished sometime this month. Detail, up there."
"Yayay."
"No, no, not there. There! Look where I am pointing!"
"Oh. Whee!"
swish
swish
"She can be so dense, sometimes, can't she?"
"I'm not dense! Density requires mass! Ghosts don't have mass!"
"You're a poltergeist, Detail."
"The principle's the same!"
"I swear, Lisa, you let her hang out with Minerva too much."
"What am I supposed to do, Mina? She likes to dust the shelves. And she can get into the little spaces between the bookends and the shelves. Dust accumulates there, you know."
"Yes, Lisa, I know. But-"
"If anything, you're the one who's dense, stupid human!"
"I am getting a little tired of these outbursts of hers."

"Becca, why are we even here?"
Lady Rebecca Caroline Elspeth, without looking up from the small sink at which she stood, brushed a few strands of vaguely translucent brown hair away from her pale green eyes, and said, "If you wish a response from me, I insist that you address me in the fashion my rank affords me." She sniffed, and went back to work scrubbing dishes.

"Fine. Lady Rebecca Caroline Elspeth, great princess of the scullery, why are we even here? The only person around her who actually eats is Mina, and she cooks her own food."

A small spirit floating nearby added her voice to the conversation, saying, "I, for one, don't appreciate being dragged out everyday for non-existent meals. Also, could you let up on the scrubbing? You're hurting me."

Rebecca sighed. "It would not do for the good Lady Cynthia not to have a kitchen staff. As a person of import, she must keep up appearances. And I will have none of your lip, young lady." Rebecca ceased her scrubbing, and picked up a frying pan which lay next to the sink. Like her, it was vaguely translucent, and it trailed wisps of raw ectoplasm as Rebecca swung it into the spirit who had spoken up. The victim of her anger went tumbling through a wall and into the next room, and Rebecca smiled faintly as she placed her pan back by the sink.

"As for you, get back to chopping those onions."
"Fine. As you wish, my lady."

Xaltwind

Human Settlements

While the day continued and the hustling and bustling little streets of narrow, cobbled stone were filled by the feet and bodies of many a pedestrian, it seemed like time had almost slowed down. Slowmotion was the word here, for everyone seemed to be moving sluggishly and the normal, fluent motion and blurs that was the streets seemed now more like a puppetshop correographed in a bowl of thick, dark syrup. But while most of the population dragged their feet and did their best to fight off the autumn depression, there were a few, zippy characters that moved with astounding speed and agility! These were young men, dressed in simple brown vests, white shirts, brown baggy shorts and the simplest of shoes. They were holding several items under their arms, scrolls of paper and parchment, hammers and buckets and cases of nails and other such things you used to bash things against - or into - other things.

One of the young fellows approached a certain house and began to hammer away with great glee, adding one of his scrolls as a new decoration for the building. Sadly, the owner of said house was less than pleased when he stuck his head out the window and witnessed just what was going on. Pottery, shoes and other rough and unsoft items came flying towards the scroll-nailing man, who fled in a frenzied panic as the projectiles landed around and about him, while the angered house-owner squealed and cried out curses of every variety you could imagine. Yes, that was right, these young lads in their brown and white clothes were the town criers, runners and sometimes jesters. Apparently they had been assigned a job to do and was now carrying it out, with moderate consideration...

While the one fleeing from the house vanished from sight, another appeared and began nailing one of his scrolls to a different house, and another appeared to nail another to a message board, which was already cluttered and well beyond the brink of overpopulation, with paper and parchment sticking out from all it's sides in every direction. On the scrolls were a simple message scribbled:

A Vote has been passed at town hall.
Exploration of the heartlands will proceed.
Need volunteers to go and investigate the cause.
Solving the mystery will bring about rewards!
So say the Elder.

Not a very enlightening message, nor very detailed, but at least it provided the important information. Some kind of democratic vote had been held at town hall, it had been decided that the foggy center of the isle was to be explored and those who were willing to go would be rewarded for their trouble. An easy enough concept, but it seemed like a bit of an act of desperation, maybe there hadn't been any volunteers after the actual vote? Then again, who could blame anyone for not wanting to go to the island-core? The place was always, always covered in deep, thick mist. Sadly, the notes failed to specify where the volunteers should meet or how they should proceed in order to justly sign up and claim the responsability of an explorer. But perhaps you didn't need to fill out any paperwork? Maybe you just had to go to the middle of the island and find out what was there? That sure would be nice, by-passing all the beaurocracy and whatnot.

In the Heads of the Undead

You there, yes, you! Listen to me! Don't be alarmed, my voice in your head means no harm! You can hear me, right? Why am I asking? I know you can! A voice suddenly rung out. It was a ghostly voice, like an echo from within a tunnel or closed space, yet it did not actually sound or have any kind of hearable noise follow it at all, it was almost as if the voice spoke directly inside the undead ones' heads. Like a thought, a memory.

Listen up! You should head towards the center of the Island. You've already felt yourself wanting to go there, right? Follow that instinct, it'll guide you through the mist and to where you need to go. I'll be waiting. The voice in the head stated more, encouraging those who heard it to move in the direction that their subconcious (and concious?) will wanted them to. But was it safe? Could a voice in the head that appeared out of nowhere and invaded one's thoughts be trusted? Then again, what was it going to do if it had some kind of trap prepared? Eat them?

Oh, one last thing. Doon't ask questions or try and speak to me. While you can hear me it's not the same for you, I can make my voice heard by you, but you cannot make me hear yours. But trust me, what you want most of all waits for you at the heart of the island! The last lines almost sounded like a poorly rehearsed sale's pitch, and seeing as that wasn't a particularly new invention, what with all the merchants in the towns and what not, ghosts and others might've been suspicious, had they ever dealt with such people before. Then again, the voice didn't demand any form of payment, so perhaps it was offering a free sample?

Inside the Fog's Heart

"Oh my... Miss Minerva? What might you be doing outside of the library, at this time of day? If you're not careful, you might evaporate~"
"Quiet you, I'm busy working."
"Outdoors? Oh my! Don't tell me the library caught on fire?"
"Of course not. Why would it?"
"Oh, really...?"
"... You almost sound disappointed."
"Fufufu... Of course not~"

Minerva raised an eyebrow but then quickly returned to looking down into the book which she held in her hand. Her hazel eyes quickly darted back and forth, scanning and reading the rows of text in a fascinatingly rapid pace. Her shoulder-length, black hair gently fluttered as the breeze picked up and she was forced to place her free hand ontop of her head, to keep her white hat from getting stolen away.

The other one, Chloe, seemed to rather enjoy the sudden wind and stretched herself in all directions, letting a deep, long sigh of relief escape her lips. Her red plaid skirt fluttered along with her hair, a golden orange tone, and she seemed quite content as she stood there in the midst of a flowerbed, watching the little saplings and sprouts dance and bend to the will of the wind. The pink parasol she held onto didn't seem to get tugged by the wind in the slightest, but then again, on closer inspection it was obvious that the parasol was faintly translucent.

"So, what kind of work brings the Mistress of Books all the way out here, into the world of sunshine and scents?""
"I told you, work. And the library has scents."
"Of dust."
"Quiet you."
"Fufufu..."

Kabang!
Crash!
Slammer!
Roar!

"Aha~ Little Cynthia's awake~"
"Either that, or the library just exploded."
"Now why would the library explode, I wonder..."
"You tell me."
"Dandelions."
"... Do not cause explosions."

Fish Soup

The fish flowed easy today for Lethario. Far too easy. But he was one never to complain about his day being less difficult. His basket being full, a rarity, he left his perch on a rock overlooking the chilly ocean and started to make his way into town. He stopped off at his hut and dropped off the fishing spear and rods, quickly rolled a cigarillo, lit it in the still smoldering embers of his pit, and started his trek into town. With a catch like todays, he could easily afford a bottle of liquor. Hell he could even throw in some beef and potatoes, enough for at least a week. Maybe new shoes instead? He inhaled the smoke like a man who'd just found a bag of silver. So many possibilities!

He stopped right before the market, one arm resting on the basket that was slung over his shoulder and under his arm. The other hand held the cigarillo, and despite it almost being burnt out, he just kept on pulling drags from it, staring at the sign on the side of a very upset middle-aged woman's house. He read, re-read, then had someone else read it for him. Lethario wasn't exactly the most literate. Too busy working to learn how to read, but his Mother had taught him a lot. Only two words really stood out on the sign:

Exploration and Rewards

Lethario turned to the man who had read the sign for him.
"This Explorer thing. Where do I go for it?"
The man looked at Lethario with a bit of wonderment.
"Doesn't that burn your fingers?" He asked, pointing to the hand holding the cigarillo.
As if on command bursts of pain flooded through him and he tossed the but of the cigarillo away, unaware of it landing in an old man's tiny herb garden, which immediately caught flame, much to the dismay of the old man.

Lethario shook his burnt hand and asked the man again, who was busy watching the old man's herb garden burn.
"Where do I go for this?"
The man turned and looked at Lethario, the look of wonderment still in his eyes. Lethario just threw this man into the 'I look like this all time because of my small brain' category.
"I dunno. Town Hall I 'spose"

A few hours later, Lethario was back at home. He'd traded his fish for some trail rations, a backpack, and new pair of boots. He'd already packed up his few meager belongings, leaving the fishing rods, nets, and baskets on the one table in the hut. He took up his fishing spear. The woods were a dangerous place after all. Placing his straw hat on his head, he walked out the door. The Elders had given him permission to venture to the heartlands. And his life, being one big slice of boredom, and just gotten a whole lot more interesting.

Lokki Zarr Grungron

“Timber!” came the deep rumbling sound of a man’s voice accompanied by the crack and break of a falling tree. Before the tree had collided with the ground Selleus had already put away his axe and gotten his big saw from his cart. This was a good day, it wasn’t all too hot or cold. The sun didn’t sting his eyes and the rain had yet to come. Although today looked like there could be a thunder storm brewing. Which wasn’t all that bad, considering that would mean people in town would stay home rather then crowd the streets. The noise of his saw much sounded like his own snoring, which reminded him of the lack of sleep he had the last few nights. Selleus wasn’t quite sure, but it might look like his house was being haunted. Stranger things had happened in town the last couple of months. Luckily it didn’t seem all that bad though, a few belongings had changed place and the floor boards had started to crack. Although that last part might be because of the buildings age rather then some ghost.

It was afternoon when Selleus rolled his full cart into town. Pulling it himself like he always did. He let out soft curses at the lack of “bad” weather and the crowd abroad. “A well, better get this business over and done with so i can go back home.” Selleus softly murmured to himself. The shop keeper was John, like his dad had been called and his dad before him. It was probably the only name they could come up with. Sounded more like making use of the latrine then a name to be honest. “Morning, John. Any news?” Selleus greeted the man as he unloaded the stumps of fire wood from his cart. “Matter of fact there is actually.” John spoke in a voice that very much sounded like the crack of old leather shoes. The rather large wart on his nose was the first thing that came around the corner to meet the squat man. “Really now? What is it, town hall burned down?” Selleus joked. He had never really like the people down at town hall, until he heard what John had to say. “Not quite, but they are setting up an exploration team of some sorts, haven’t you seen the flyers? There all over the place. Like fly’s stuck to dung.”

“You know i can’t read.” Selleus scowled. “But exploring sounds like fun. Matter of fact, i might just try it out some time. Get rid of my daily routine you know.” Now it was John’s turn to scowl. “And who is going to bring me my wears to sale then?” Selleus wasn’t the only one who chopped wood for living, but he brought in the most. The thought startled him for a fleeting moment, but it was enough to let him drop the logs he was about to put on the rest. John’s yelp could be heard across the street and maybe even the next if you listened closely. The log had landed on his foot and the toe was turning all kinds of shades of blue and purple. “Well, seems like you other things to worry about now. I’ll see you in a couple of… When i get back” Selleus said before turning around and leaving. His direction, Town hall.

ScarletRemilia

It was as a certain ghost floated through the streets of the human village that men seemingly came from nowhere! How interesting they were, carrying hammers and instruments of blunt hitting and paper, oh how interesting of an invention paper was. How could some stiff log of a tree turn into something so flexible and white? Well, either way, the ghost took interest and floated to the nearest hammering man, listening to the rhythmic 'thack, thack, thack!' of their hammering and the occasional "OW MY THUMB!" from the mishap of missing the nail, the entire melody of the workers hammering away at any hammer able surface they could find along with the occasional sound of pain caused the ghost to giggle. As the hammering man finished his work the ghost floated ever closer and stared at the sign in front of her.

Oh what a pretty sign, but what was this? The ghost called Amira scratched her chin and silently floated in front of the sign before her, tilting her head left and right and floating upside down then right side up again. Then the sudden realization came to her, the realization was let out as audibly loud as a ghost could get, despite in her invisible state it wouldn't be heard by any humans no matter how close they were, "WAH! I... I... I CAN'T READ!!!"

Amira slumped her shoulders as if defeated. At this point a voice called from within the young female ghost's mind, a voice of unknown origin and a voice she most likely did not recognize. The floating girl floated higher into the air and spun around, looking for the source of this fascinating voice. At the same time she listened to it, intrigued by what it had to say and found herself momentarily forgetting about her plight at the sign.

"You there!" the voice called, the innocent ghost pointed at herself as if saying 'me?', and found her reply, "yes you! You can hear me right?" The girl nodded as if the voice, whoever it was or wherever it came from could see her. The voice continued talking to her, telling of the sudden urges to move to the center of the island that she had so strongly felt earlier, almost like the urges that came from the strong scent of a good meal. Mmm...

As the voice finished and told the girl ghost not to talk to him as he can't hear her Amira found herself nodding, then caught her head and made herself stop. She gave a sigh and floated back down to the ground then went through the sign and made herself visible to the world of humans, the girl stepped out and away from the sign and tugged on a random persons sleeve, the person looking someone intelligent, "Uhm... Can you read?"

"Yeah, I can read, do you want me to read that sign?"
"Yes mister."
"Okay..."

The stranger vocalized the message for the ghost and she nodded in delight, her signature aloof smile written on her face, the reader could only smile back, thinking of how innocent this child seemed to be.

"Oh, thanks mister, I guess the sign's just telling me to go where I already wanted to go... Anyway... bye!"

Just like that the ghost child turned invisible, the man that she just conversed with looked around rapidly, thinking himself crazy for a moment then rubbing his head and going back to work, muttering something about the silly specters having their fun. In the meanwhile Amira floated away and toward the exit of the city and eventually the exit of the island.