Advent Prompt 3

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Bifrost Janger
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Advent Prompt 3

Postby Bifrost Janger » Fri Dec 03, 2021 11:08 am

The Dark Forest path was blanketed with snow. It must have come down heavy last night; what for it to manage break the canopy and reach the forest floor. The air was colder. It had a definite nip. Bif hadn't noticed last night, he had been down in the Gremlin Tree, where the air was cloying and warm. Warmer still from all the bodies digging. Though, only Avedis and himself last night.

Bif had went off furiously digging just to do something with himself. A turn sat in the library hadn't done it for him. And that was queer; usually he lost himself in tomes well enough. Next, he had delivered soup to the Mountain Camp Gremlins. But just as the turns before, they had waited until he was gone back down the trail before they had come to collect his offerings. They hadn't bothered with him yet. Not that the Tree lot bothered all that much with him either. But occasionally they did snigger and steal sweets from his pockets. And Bif was heartened enough by that; that they weren't scared of him. Bif had to take whatever scraps he could get. Somewhere along the way, he had grown used to loving things that didn't really love him back.

But when Bif had emerged from the Hollowed Tree this morning, he had been greeted by a vast expanse of white. All pure and bright. His usual morning routine was to head to the soup kitchen; to pick up the scraps for the chaps. Usually, he took the foot road around the forest. But today, the boy in him had taken him on a different path. It had been snowing, you see. And there was a great pleasure in being in it. And even greater pleasure in walking in the parts that were yet untouched.

There were no footprints on the forest path. But that didn't mean anything. People might be here still. Folks strayed from the path all of the time. It seldom got used at all. Bif didn't use it himself. Bif thought himself as more of a meanderer than a follower of paths. And if he followed the path today then he would surely leave a trail - and trails could be followed.

Did he want to be followed? He wasn't sure. His Gnomish Morris Dancing Slippers did leave a very distinctive trail. Anyone who knew him would recognise it.

After a quick moments deliberation, Bif took a deliberate step off the path; ducking a branch and starting off through the twiggy undergrowth. He could be alone for a marc. He could be with people when he got to the soup kitchen. Caritas was always there. And Moss was likely busy with the peeling. They probably already had the scraps ready for him.

There was that word again. Scraps. Bif was a great collector of scraps. Scraps of food. Scraps of cloth for their beds. Scraps for the Junk Golem. Scraps of affection for Bif.

The snow was making the forest look more pleasant than usual. The snow deftly hid the churned brown earth beneath. For a moment Bif worried that he might step in armadillo poo. Or bear poo. (The forest was where bears pooed after all). Thinking on it, it was frightening the amount of crap a pretty visard could disguise.

It half made him wish that he had stayed on the path. That, and the fact that the snow was mildly disorientating. He knew where he was going; he was trying to find the sapling. So Bif just resolved to walk vaguely in that direction. If he hit the gates of Milltown; then he had come too far.

Bif had grand hopes of one day decorating the sapling for Winter's Warming. The sapling didn't belong to Bif. But he was sure the tree wouldn't mind all the same. But it was still too twiggy for that anyway. It would likely take a great few cycles before the little tree was big enough to hold up that weight.

"Don't worry, little tree," said Bif, as he arrived at the clearing at last, "We will give you time to grow."

The sapling looked sparcer still for the snow. The chill had caused it to drop it's leaves. Bif reached out to touch it's bark; wondering if the sapling was truly cold.

He had a vague memory of mum bringing in her pots for the winter. So likely they did feel the nip just as keenly. Bif removed his scarf, and made his best effort to wrap it about the spindly body of the tree. It had been in the desert before, after all. It was probably a great deal chillier in the woods. But at least the little tree now had the big trees to crowd over it.

“Always, always. Faithfulness beyond any man’s deserving. I will keep the colour of your eyes when no other in the world remembers your name. There is no immortality but a tree’s love.”

Bif stepped back to admire his handiwork, and muttered the quote through a smile. He had liked that book when he was a kid. Pity he'd left it at home.

A soft fwump from his back disturbed Bif from his reverie, and he turned to see the Bear Cub; still as underdeveloped as the sapling; lolloping about in the snow.

"Aha! There you are!"

The cub revelled in the snow just as much as Bif had hoped it would, and it lit joy within his heart to see something so innocent and without care. He had left his pack by the edge of the clearing, and now the cub was snuffling about it; looking for a morsel without any finesse.

"There is nothing inside really..." He began, coming to the cub and assisting with the fastenings of his pack so that the creature might see. "Oh, actually. Wait! There are a few squashed biscuits. Here."

Bif deposited the leavings for the bear, and resolved that he should likely deliver soup to him later too. Surely he should be hibernating by now, anyway?

Bif snorted one of his jovial laughs as he watched the bear snaffle up his meagre offerings.

"Hey. I think I've thought of a name for you. We should call you Scraps."
Fear is a strange soil. It grows obedience like corn, which grow in straight lines to make weeding easier. But sometimes it grows the potatoes of defiance, which flourish underground. - Terry Pratchett

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Blythe
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Re: Advent Prompt 3

Postby Blythe » Sun Dec 05, 2021 1:07 am

Raffe pauses under a tree. The path before him, along with the lands as far as the eye can see, is covered in glittering snow.
The forest canopy overhead hung thick with more of the white, frozen flakes. All the sounds of the forest were muffled under the seasonal covering.
Raffe examined the tracks in front of him. Boot prints from the marcs prior were half filled and obscured by a fresh fall.
Smaller tracks spread across the top layer of the snowy landscape. They were sharply made and barely scratched surface.
He was sure they were made by something with claws. Something small, or at least light. Feathering went out from the spread claws. A disturbance from the body of the beast that left the tracks behind.

Curious, he thought. He didn't recognize the tracks but he was not an expert tracker. There were certainly others more experienced in identifying the various shapes and depth of tracks left by beasts that lived in the forest. He was fairly certain it was a bird of some sort, but he could not tell what kind or if it was. It obviously had four legs, wings and potentially deadly talons.

Raffe stood and followed the tracks. They seemed to be taking quite significant leaps and were spread several feet apart. At some points they were deeper then others, perhaps when the winged creature let its full weight fall to the ground. And in some instances what appeared to the body of the creature writhed into varying shapes. Raffe's imaginings of this creature became more and more wild.
Talons spread apart quite far, definitely four distinct legs, a long-ish torso that is able to contort by extreme degrees, feathers and possibly scales judging by some of the imprints.. Something akin to a wyvern, perhaps but such a creature should not be in the forest.
Perhaps, he thought, it was always in the forest and the tracks were only so obvious atop such a heavy snowfall.

He followed them past the low hanging limbs that led into the canopy above. He followed them even after they crossed over the tracks of bears and wolves. He even saw an armadillo rooting through the tracks, searching for bugs burrowed deep under the frozen cap of the dirt below. Still, for several marcs there was no sign of what creature was making these tracks. Not even a shadow or a sound that would give a hint as to the dreadful monstrosity that was making its way through the drifts between the trees.

And then he heard it. The sound that would haunt him for many turns to come. A light and delightful twittering. Two voices, in fact, raised in natural harmony. One sang and the other answered. Raffe stopped as he heard them and saw the creature he was stalking. Both of the creatures. A pair of birds fluttering just a few feet off the ground, collided with each other, tangled their necks and wings and legs and appeared to embrace as they fell into the snow. Over and over they did this dance, sang their song, and both seemed as intent as the other to carry on at this until one of them gave into exhaustion. A prospect, which Raffe guessed, was still many marcs away.

He watched for awhile as the birds carried on. The pair oblivious to the world around them as they leapt at one another, tangled, and landed in snowy banks along the paths of the forest only to disengage and repeat their trilling calls and make another attempt at... from Raffe could only assume was an extensive and exhausting mating ritual.

Finally, Raffe picked up one of the stray gray fluffy feathers left behind along the fresh sets of tracks they laid in the snow and turns to follow another direction, leaving the imagined monstrosity turned harmless love pairing to their own devices. The rest of his walk through the forest was much less eventful.
I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of how awesome I am :D
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Turcko
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Re: Advent Prompt 3

Postby Turcko » Tue Dec 07, 2021 3:18 pm

Turcko takes a walk through a snowy forest.

“Huh? Who said that?”.

Turcko looked around in confusion, both sides, up and down.

“No, I didn’t. I just stood here. Didn’t so much as blink. And why would I look down to find out who is speaking?”.

Turcko felt the first snows covering his tanned, exposed skin, like a cold reminder that he should dress more appropriately. And bathe.

“Now that was plain rude. Come to think of it, why DO I never wear shirts, like ever?”.

Turcko found the forest’s silence quite soothing this time of the year.

“And creepy. More so since an eerie voice makes comments on my every move and feeling. Even when I don’t even feel like moving much.”.

Turcko sprints for a few paces to warm himself.

“Sure, sure I do. Because I didn’t just mention I wasn’t really looking forward to move, half naked, through SNOW!”.

Demon Bear attacks!

“Ack! Where did YOU come from? There was literally NOTHING in sight in all FOUR directions humans can move. What gives?”.

[Quick Fight (No Xp)]

“And just like that he’s gone. Shame. That fur looked warm. You know, because it snowed and the forest is cold and I’ve been half-naked for several years now.”.

Turcko moves aimlessly around the forest, fighting wolves and bears.

“I’m not even going to say anything to that. If you are a puppet master and I’m the puppet, you suck, you know?”

[Log Out]

“What was that sound? Are you gone? Can I do my own thing now? Maybe take out that bed warmer that I always keep in my pack in case I’m stranded while walking in the snow at night? Cool then. Creep.”

I no longer take a walk through a snowy forest. I dress a thick coat and sleep indoors. I become the master.
Turcko, Falx Monde, Ivan Monde, Argoth

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