what_greater_weapon (
what_greater_weapon) wrote in
glowfic2015-12-19 09:52 am
Entry tags:
Local lore is surprisingly accurate
Noelle finds that having a village is quite a pain. So she doesn't have one. Instead she travels. This isn't as easy as the sentence makes it sound. She has several sets of clothes that fit her just badly enough to make her look androgynous instead of feminine, while still being practical and not in her way. It's perhaps not what her fashion choices would be if choosing for aesthetics, but her fashion choices are not based around aesthetics. Instead it's to keep the idiots that think a lone reasonably pretty young woman is a tempting and vulnerable target to a minimum.
Not that it's a foolproof strategy. People are stupid, and she's apparently rather pretty. Not that anyone should try anything; while she might be tempting, she is not vulnerable. She has a sword at her hip that she knows how to use beyond 'pointy end goes in the person,' a small crossbow that looks deceptively useless when it is anything but, and a few knives that benefit from baggy clothes and the ability to hide knives therein. Anyone that thinks she is a tempting and vulnerable target and that they should act accordingly will be corrected. Possibly with the knives, if they especially deserve it.
She's actually in the middle of that right now. Well, sort of. She is working on being in the middle of that right now. In order to get there she has to find the guy. He had some wandering hands that went to unsanctioned locations, and after she broke his finger he, well, ran. Normally she might let him go, call it even, but she realized the next morning that he fit the description of a bandit with a sizable bounty on him. And he did have a mysteriously large purse for a man with that little class. It fits. And he's an asshole, so she can go retrieve him, dump him at the feet of the local lawmen that are looking for him, collect the lovely bounty, and be on her way.
One problem: the asshole ran into a thing the locals call the Witchwood. She realizes rather too late that it is appropriately named. The trees must be moving, or moving her, because she passed by that creek with the rocks in that particular formation and the slightly broken tree two hours ago, and she was following the sun. This should not happen.
Well. She has travelling rations with her, and she can find water reliably well (especially if the creek keeps showing up) but if she's trapped in here forever there's not much she can do about it. If it takes longer than a week she might set the forest on fire, but she's not that desperate. She'll let the magic woods lead her around if they want to, she guesses. Not that she has a choice.
She scrapes marks in trees with her least favorite knife, because it's not like she has anything better to do, and she wants to know how many times trees will repeat themselves. Scrape scrape. Wander wander.
Not that it's a foolproof strategy. People are stupid, and she's apparently rather pretty. Not that anyone should try anything; while she might be tempting, she is not vulnerable. She has a sword at her hip that she knows how to use beyond 'pointy end goes in the person,' a small crossbow that looks deceptively useless when it is anything but, and a few knives that benefit from baggy clothes and the ability to hide knives therein. Anyone that thinks she is a tempting and vulnerable target and that they should act accordingly will be corrected. Possibly with the knives, if they especially deserve it.
She's actually in the middle of that right now. Well, sort of. She is working on being in the middle of that right now. In order to get there she has to find the guy. He had some wandering hands that went to unsanctioned locations, and after she broke his finger he, well, ran. Normally she might let him go, call it even, but she realized the next morning that he fit the description of a bandit with a sizable bounty on him. And he did have a mysteriously large purse for a man with that little class. It fits. And he's an asshole, so she can go retrieve him, dump him at the feet of the local lawmen that are looking for him, collect the lovely bounty, and be on her way.
One problem: the asshole ran into a thing the locals call the Witchwood. She realizes rather too late that it is appropriately named. The trees must be moving, or moving her, because she passed by that creek with the rocks in that particular formation and the slightly broken tree two hours ago, and she was following the sun. This should not happen.
Well. She has travelling rations with her, and she can find water reliably well (especially if the creek keeps showing up) but if she's trapped in here forever there's not much she can do about it. If it takes longer than a week she might set the forest on fire, but she's not that desperate. She'll let the magic woods lead her around if they want to, she guesses. Not that she has a choice.
She scrapes marks in trees with her least favorite knife, because it's not like she has anything better to do, and she wants to know how many times trees will repeat themselves. Scrape scrape. Wander wander.

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Just visible through the trees, off in that direction, there is a broad clearing which seems to contain some sort of overgrown ruin - at least, that does appear to be part of a stone wall covered in ivy and climbing roses.
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Okay.
Let's look around, then. The ruin for the first time is more interesting than the creek for the fifth time, or the number of marked trees for the millionth time.
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And inside the wall there is a courtyard, and inside the courtyard there is a magnificently beautiful castle.
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This screams trap to her.
She considers what she's going to do. This could contain a person that will help get her out of this crazy place, but it could also be that there is a terrible monster inside that likes eating people. Can she handle a terrible monster lurking inside that likes eating people? She's not sure. Maybe. But maybe not, she didn't think this forest was magic before it started fucking with her, and look how wrong she was.
But her other option is 'wander through the woods some more,' and she's not convinced she'll ever get out by doing that enough. Maybe, but she needs to look for alternatives. Like the magnificently beautiful castle. Let's - carefully go wandering up to it, to knock on the door and see if anyone's inside. No need to be rude.
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"Hello?" she calls, cautiously.
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"Does anyone live here?" she calls, unwilling to step beyond the threshold because trap trap trap trap trap.
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Nope. Nope nope nope nope nope nope nope.
She's not going into the creepy magic trap castle with its creepy opening doors and its magic lanterns and its magic forest.
Nope.
Noelle turns right around, and goes to take her chances with the forest.
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deposits her right back at the castle clearing after a few minutes.
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She attempts to go back to wandering the forest, doubting that she actually can without running into the castle again. Just to see.
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Okay.
So. Trap. But maybe if she plays the magic forest's game it will let her out.
Inside she goes, cautiously, crossbow drawn and sword in easy reach and trying to think of how she would fight the various kinds of monster she can imagine up.
"So this is a nice castle," she says loudly, even toned despite the screaming in her head, "it's a pity it's creepy as shit and doesn't let me leave."
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Does the front door work, or is she locked inside?
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So that's important knowledge.
She carefully, carefully starts exploring the place, on edge the entire time.
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It has a library, a huge room lined with sturdy shelves containing books in a multitude of languages. Many are in Callian, but by no means all.
It has multiple luxurious bedrooms, none of which look the least bit lived-in.
It has a kitchen and a large, well-stocked pantry. She could live here for years and not run out of anything, unless she felt like eating nothing but strawberry preserves day in and day out.
It has a dining hall with a beautifully carved wooden table and a lovely fireplace.
It has comfortable sitting rooms and studies, with desks and pens and paper and a few more books.
It has tall towers from which she could stand and look out at the forest, if she felt like doing that.
It has a wine cellar, as well-stocked as the pantry, though there are no labels on any of the bottles. And a few more storage rooms down there, which together contain enough assorted nonperishables to make running out of strawberry preserves considerably more difficult.
It has a respectable armoury.
It has attics, as neatly kept as the rest of the place, stocked with assorted oddments - extra furniture, blankets, musical instruments, some really lovely jewelry.
It does not have anything resembling servants' quarters.
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So as far as traps go it's a nice one.
It is highly tempting to, say, grab that gorgeous short sword she saw in the armoury, or eat from the kitchen instead of her travel rations, but she doesn't want to piss off whoever lives here, if anyone lives here at all.
More tempting is the library. There are languages she doesn't recognize, she wants them, written languages aren't as fun as the spoken versions but she'll take them, happily. But it's been a long day of wandering through a magic forest, and she doesn't have the energy to work her way through the library. Yet. But she will, eventually, while she's stuck here.
She doesn't feel comfortable enough to take a bed, as soft and tempting and wonderful as they look. Noelle does not want to piss off whoever lives here. She sets up her sleeping pallet in a little nook near the exit that gives a good view of anyone that could potentially threaten her, propped up with her pack so if she hears something she can just open her eyes and see properly instead of moving around and giving away that she's awake.
Zzzz.
(Cautious zzz. She's not a heavy sleeper anyway, but she's sleeping especially lightly.)
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In the morning, a heavy wooden tray on an elegant wrought-iron stand comes tiptoeing into the front hall on the stand's little wrought-iron feet.
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The fuck?
She hears it approaching, and opens her eyes and peers at it.
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The fuck?
Magic, apparently.
"... Thank you?" she says, equal parts confused and cautious.
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