A Dare at Crossing Dark
14th of November 2006 A.D.
Dixie Square Mall was the kind of place parents warned their children away from and unlike many other targets of parental disapproval you cannot imagine many kids would disagree with it. Abandoned for longer than you have been alive, a hulking mass raised of crumbling brick and cracking concrete, rusted steel peering though the gaps like the bones of a corpse left too long in the sun. The wind and rain had worn away most of the storefronts, letters strewn along its walkways, a jumbled epitaph. Here and there by quirks of architecture and geometry the walls look almost pristine, if it were not for the graffiti of generations spilled out across them, clashing contradicting proclamations that future archeologists might mistake for a grand temple complex. In the middle of an otherwise unremarkable stretch of wall there is an arch painted in vivid reds and greens proclaiming it Santa's Workshop, the signs of whichever company had put it here are gone and by some happenstance the only graffiti in sight is a dark winged bird, perhaps a raven.
For all the signs are obvious when looking for them you suspect you would have missed them entirely in passing, if it had not been for the pair of women standing on either side of the arch. They have the look of sisters maybe even twins. At first glance one would guess 'Latina' but when the one on the left speaks the accent behind her words is definitely not Spanish, or any language you have ever heard spoken before. "I am Marzhan this is my sister Alina and we will be your guides to Santa's Workshop and beyond today. Please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times."
Piotr grows a little more more stone faced, but he does not argue, whether because it is not his place to argue with the Choosers of the Slain or as seems more likely from that smile, because it would only encourage them to say even more outrageous things, you are not sure. The journey is going to be fun you bet.
The pair move in concert, opening the painted door onto a much different vista, a pair of rune carved standing stones, a lintel set between then, framing the a distant mountain set against a darkening sky. As the four of you step through a raven caws impatiently and spreads its dark wings wide, heading towards the mountain.
"Don't mind him," Alina offers in a conspiratorial whisper. "He gets huffy when he has to lead people who have no chance of dying which means no chance of plucking out their eyes for a snack."
"He wouldn't actually..." you start, but the other sister shakes her head.
"Lead them astray, of course not, but if they should happen to die to some peril of the Ways it would be a shame to let the eyes and the last light in them go to waste."
That... should probably not sound as reasonable as it does, but you distract yourself looking around. This side of the veil you are standing at a crossroad surrounded rotten rail fences and here and there peeking from among the nettles, poison ivy and other things that gardener's hand has never touched the foundations of houses. This place had been a market town long ago. Strange to think that any of the fey and spirits of this impossible realm would live in such mundane homes, much less that they could have been killed or driven off.
Catching your eye Piotr explains. "This used to be a village, regular mortal folk from what would be Bavaria today, fell in one night at the dark of the moon, stayed too long and had to linger. Did alright for themselves for a while, more than most can boast."
He is obviously not willing to explain what got them in the end or how the One Eye gained a foothold in the ruins.
"Where to next?" you ask instead.
"See that cave halfway up the mountain," Marzhan points, wings so black they seem to shimmer with green and blue and purple unfurling from her shoulders as they do her sister's. "Race you there!"
With that they are off in a gust of cold wind. Before you can decide whether to follow Piotr whistles and a black coach, saved from looking like a hearse only by the blood red curtains rolls silently up the road, silently and much faster than any mortal conveyance aught to be. Definitely not faster than a valkyrie in flight.
A race and a chance to win a bit more fame among the ranks of Odin's servants or a ride in the coach and a chance to ask some questions about how Monoc operates on the mundane side and on the spooky.
What do you do?
[] Try to race the sisters
-[] Write in charms
[] Take the coach
-[] Write in any questions you have for Piotr
[] Write in
OOC: And here we are in the realms of dreams and nightmares once more.