Series Posts

The Haunted Dusk

XXIII

“Are you alone? Were you followed?” his words are hurried, raspy whispers. “The eyes are everywhere. “ He quickly ushers the party in, slamming and bolting the door as soon as they are past the precipice. He takes one last furtive glance out the door’s sliver of a window before closing and shuttering the last grasp of fading the evening star. “The dusk comes, and we have much to discuss before the moon silvers the land.”

The rumors surrounding The Haunted Dusk are ones of caution, concern, and chaos. Many in town will look forlorn at the thoughts of memories of them from before; before the boating accident, you understand? Others will scowl and curse, damning the very notion of having this lost scholar within the thread of their lives. But parties are a nexus of such figures, so it is no small wonder this one invited the group to his dwelling with a promise of a prophecy.

Plot device and Mcguffin delivery lies in the heart of using this NPC. They have seen things, been hunted by them, and now think they know the truth of it all. But they are scared. They have seen the sights that drive mortals to panic, the unending fangs and impossible limbs. Too many of each. These fears may seem an inroad for manipulation, but risk them not. Parties who try will find The Haunted Dusk rapidly turns on those they dem corrupted. A cautionary ally can become an enemy far quicker than they are prepared for, especially at this initial clandestine gathering.

In early days of the 20^th century, they are the explorer come home to tell of terrors of the deep. The herald of the darkness come.

In distant aeons, they have witnessed the stars move first-hand, and seen the blackening field of night hide the massive things moving between worlds. If only their ship could run faster.

In ancient days of legend, they know of the horrors that lurked before light found the world. They hold the door firm and seek aid keeping it shut.

Night looms as the sun dips below the horizon. The dread building is one of caution, of a chilling sensation that consumes the heat of the day like ice water poured over burning coals. Now, only the midnight hour remains.

The Gruff Day

XXII

The third sun’s ascent into the apex of the sky signaled the official midday quarter hour. It had been a hot one making the work that much harder, but it wasn’t meant to be easy doing things right. They were responsible for getting this complex ready for habitation, and they weren’t one to shirk their duties. This planet, like the many others they had been called to, demanded hard work, and they were going to give it their all. Their lot isn’t for a quest, it’s a ethic of worth. Their attentiveness will determine the safety of others and will be a bulwark against those who would renege promises of quality against the hunt for greater profit.

Danger need not come from exploring dark recesses of the cosmos. It need not come from starships fueled by the drums of war or machinations of tyrants. Often the danger is there because someone needs a home, and the universe is an uncaring thing that has no qualms with physics and environmental hazards harming the delicacy of life. Such are the thoughts that occupy the Gruff Day’s mindset. They know that their work is worth the effort, and a focus on protection over gentleness guides them.

They are not needlessly cruel, although their words can come across in that manner. But they know the danger of not following policies to every dotted I, or crossed T. Mistakes get made, seals break, people die.

The Gruff Day is a warning of an NPC. They can serve parties as a voice of caution, of concern. Even if others will not halt efforts, they will still be informed of the proper outfits, the tools needed, and the expertise required to get the job done properly. This route, they cannot be manipulated away from. Too much rides on keeping others safe and their incident rate low. Not because of bonuses, not for insurance, but for honest dedication to protection of lives.

In space faring days, they’re the supervisor on building habitats on distant worlds. They know the ins and outs of isolated facilities and could serve as a guide to keeping safe around them.

In modern day, they’re site managers for industrial construction. They may care about the profit of the job to keep the lights on for their company, but they won’t cut costs for the sake of the danger.

In fantasy, they’re the engineers of great machines and endless dungeons. Even powerful liches need skilled workers to put their vast networks of traps together.

The sun traverses the sky, and a cool gentle dawn gives way to midday heat. Those who work under a star’s hot embrace get done what must be done, but look forward to the respite that may come.

The Kind Dawn

XXI

The lands were ashen, covered in dark woods, dangerous roads, and whispers of shadowy threats loomed upon the wind. But not to this sliver of dawn’s radiance. No matter the dark turnings of the age, her voice of hope is a ward against dwindling times. Through endless cuts sting at her life, she embraces the warmth of the brighter age, of the turning the day and new possibilities.

Her life varies. Sometimes she traverses roads filled with hard work in need of soothing hands. Others are dogged and hunted with fate’s claw constantly just beyond their back. But she persists, lifting up others with a smile, soot covered and mud stained, but a smile none-the-less. It is like an infection of kindness, a warmth that spreads in the hearts of mortals.

The Kind Dawn serves as an aid in dark times, and even in the grimmest and darkest of settings, she will share hope. It is easy to lead them on a path that leads to helping others. The harder challenge is to dissuade her actions. Threats, harm, or loss; none of these are things the Kind Dawn fears for herself. She has experienced much before and know more shadows await her, but she will carry the light within and share it with those who need to see the next dawn’s radiance in their eyes.

As a soothing voice, she can raise the spirit of others. Whatever her creed, she will use the trappings of her life to assist and aid. Should she be touched by powers or blessings, these too will serve to bless her world.

In fantasy, she is the community caretaker, the kind heart of the village. Pain happens, but it need not be endless. Though she is young, she has the heart of her elders and their compassion in her steps.

In fairy tales, she is the fairy godmother, the gift of magical aid, of light against shadows. Her promise is a bond, and her kindness is her oath.

In dystopia, she is sister-hope, the voice amongst the down and out that speaks of a dream that all must hunger for. The technicolor radiance against the sepia of apocalyptic lives.

Many worlds of fancy are driven through challenge, pain, and taxing quests. Days of turmoil that test those that walk the path. But some days can begin with compassion and joy. A bright dawn upon a story’s beginning.