wildestlogs | HEARTSTONE TROLLMARKET ※ CAMP

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HEARTSTONE TROLLMARKET ※ CAMP

HEARTSTONE TROLLMARKET

The Nightrenders and the Sisters stop following their prey once they get some distance into the woods. The protective aura coming from the shelter up north is full of deep protective magic.

It is a strange place. It looks like a massive cavern underground was somehow thrust up through earth and stone, until the roof and one wall cracked and fell in many places, creating a sort of canyon with rounded inner walls. If they look up they'll see a starry band of the night sky through the cracked roof. The rocks clearly crushed some houses and businesses but seem to have finally settled, so it's safe to wander around.

The way the ceiling opened was a source of far more tragedy than the falling rocks, though. When day breaks, they'll see the band of sunlight that cut through this community. Scattered through this band of light are large figures wrapped in sheets and blankets, tied in place with pieces of bright cloth. Little trinkets lay scattered at their feet. If anyone takes one of the blankets off, they'll see the petrified figure of a troll, their stone face forever etched in fear and surprise. It's clear from the cloth coverings and the trinkets that this is a people that cared for their dead, and that had community and family life. Among some of the trinkets are the drawings of children and dolls left for their lost loved one.

Market stalls have been ransacked, house doors are open, with larders of whatever this people ate empty, like the people here left very suddenly. Perhaps they felt the need to leave because of their sudden exposure - their community not thrust on the surface, the walls and ceiling holding back the sun crumbling.

Or perhaps the were nervous because of what was happening to the great crystal at the center of their world: the Heartstone. This great glowing crystal that got folded into the Wilderlands, was the nexus of magical energy of a world, its lifeblood, the beating heart of all magic. It sustained and protected the trolls.

It is cracked and dying. Dimming to a deeper color, occasionally flickering in a way that shows that someday it will dim completely. But not tonight. Tonight its nourishing, protective magic will keep the monsters away and give them some light in the dark. Even without the torches of the trolls, the Heartstone's light causes gems and crystals in the cavern - now a canyon - to glimmer with its protective light.

OOC DETAILS
❧ Quest magic: Players can handwave that the quest bond magic ultimately tugged the group to the Heartstone, eventually teleporting any stragglers to it. Once the group is gathered there, no one can go far without getting teleported back.

❧ Time Period: The mods will set up a top-level for the night they all arrived, and a top-level for players to post their ongoing threads set over the ensuing days. Unless the group decides to leave faster, they will likely stay there for several IC days. (And the mods will probably allow this rest stop to run 1-2 OOC weeks, but will touch base with the playerbase on their preferences.)

❧ NPCing: No npcs are left in Trollmarket - the trolls have abandoned their now unsafe home. However, gnomes can be found wandering the canyon. The gnomes seem sentient, as they clearly speak a squeaky language that just can't be translated, but they're near feral, once the pests of the trolls. They're small, extremely fast, massively strong for their tiny sizes, and love to steal the belongings of bigger people. Groups of them sometimes gang up to carry larger items. They're also aggressive: prone to biting with their pointy teeth, and taking off their pointy caps and leaping at people to stab them with the pointy horns on the tops of their heads.

❧ Supplies: There is no human food in Trollmarket and the remains of any stalls advertising food make that clear. The trollish writing on the signs is translated by translation magic to Sylvaen, the language they've all gained knowledge of. Apparently the trolls liked to eat rocks and various minerals, socks stolen from humans, and cats. Fortunately, the cages from the stalls advertising the last one are empty, and the feral cat colony around Trollmarket makes it clear they weren't taken as emergency rations. (Occasionally there is a great racket as the gnomes and cats go to war.) However, there are resources like course cloth, woolen blankets, and sewing and cobbling materials. There are also leather goods like satchels, packs, and belts. There is rope. And waxy paper that can be used to wrap food supplies.

❧ Weapons: There are weapons that can be found in places, but not many. The trolls were not a peaceful people but they settled most of their problems with simple, non-fatal brawling, rather than anything crueler, only fighting against outside attackers. The few weapons that can be found are very large and heavy, clearly meant for war. They're built for a people that averages 8-10 feet tall and only the strongest and largest among the squad will find them anything but unwieldy. However, there are a few "small" knives of crude metal that can be used as short swords, and metal shields probably used as bucklers, that would work as full shields for normal-sized people.

❧ Forest resources: The woods around Trollmarket are safe, especially if traversed during the day. They're full of potential food, for those that know what to look for. There are wild blueberries, raspberries, and huckleberries, and enough flat, dark rocks to dry fruit in the sun. At the edge of a nearby pond are cattails, with edible roots, and reeds and grasses that can be used for basket-making. Dandelions grow everywhere, with edible flowers and roots, and there are edible marigold flowers. There's ample firewood, pieces of flint (though it takes time to find them), and wild game like deer and rabbits. The trolls' cookware, cutlery, and knives can be used to cook and dress animals, but might be heavy to take along. Water can be found in the pond (though it'd need boiling), or in small, cleaner springs in the woods.

❧ Spells: Archivists will find that there are little springs in the woods that they can draw spells from. The mods will make up random spells for Archivist players that request one.

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"Well..." How do you even explain Jorgmund? It's like explaining Project Freelancer, but without the good parts "Let us say that all my fellow 'new hires', as they called us, think of the current situation as an upgrade."

Enough said, really.

Dean really wishes he would say more, because this explains nothing.

"So, better than being kidnapped? That's a start, I guess."

When was the last time Dean had an actual, honest to god, conversation with someone? Other than earlier, of course, because that went to shit.

He genuinely can't remember. Dad and him playing voicemail tag definitely doesn't count, especially since most of Dad's messages are 'go somewhere and hunt something'. He's had a couple of hook-ups, interviewed people for cases, but nothing that would count as just... talking to someone else.

Dean comes to the realization, as he has many times in his life, that he is not remotely equipped to be an actual person. This kind of shit always came so easy to Sam, but Dean still finds himself floundering like he's eleven and trying not to ask other kids whether they salt their homes' doors and windows.

"It was a...Regimented environment." he makes the understatement of the century "We were forced to go on dangerous missions against shapeshifting monsters and had shock collars implanted in our necks that would go off if we went too far."

He curls his mouth.

"So yes, this dimension appears to be friendlier, for now. Let us hope it stays that way."

Dean grew up in a 'regimented environment'. What Price is describing sounds like a prison camp or something.

"Shapeshifting monsters, huh?" Dean knows a thing or two about that, at least.

"This place ain't exactly free from 'The Company of Wolves' either."

The shock collar thing sucks, too. Dean's been tased his fair share of times (and not all of them were for training), and it doesn't really get easier with time. You can't build resistance to the loss of control, only to how you cope with it.

"If the welcoming party is any example, I wouldn't keep your hopes up. It's better to be prepared than hope for the best."

"Indeed."

A moment of awkward silence follows.

"So...Have you met Daniel? He is very friendly, and has a horse. I am sure he could show you around, if you want."

Yes, Dan sounds like a good recommendation to make. Dan is friends with everyone, even with him. It means he's helpful, and if Price wants to be nice to this man it's good to recommend him a helpful person to make friends with.

Wow, this guy does not know how to hold a conversation.

.......

Unfortunately, Dean does not know how to hold a conversation either.

"The short cowboy dude? With the pretty-boy hair?"

It is very nice hair. He somehow manages to pull off an intersection of roguishly handsome and effortlessly messy, kind of like Kurt Russel in 'Big Trouble in Little China', if a bit shorter.

"Yeah, we met back at the-" he jerks his thumb vaguely south-ward. "He's a cool dude."

This is when Dean's brain decides to throw Bunny saying 'my husband's name is Dan' back at him. He freezes for a split second, then shoves his hands back in his pockets with a scowl.

"But I don't need anyone to show me around. I can look without a babysitter."

Price thinks he's doing good at conversation, and all things considered, he is. He might be a little formal, sure, but that is just the way he is. It makes him comfortable and to some extent more reliable, he thinks.

"He was on the Rig with me, I figured you could ask him for further information, you two seem...Compatible."

Whatever he means by that. They are both rowdy on the outside, and crying on the inside. That, Price can sense immediately.

"As in, I believe you could make an efficient duo." he raises his hands, specifying "He is currently married to...Someone very different."

He can't help but let the dislike he feels towards Bunny show on his face.

Dean's brain short-circuits at the word 'compatible'.

"Hey, I ain't like that," he immediately defends himself, then realizes how it sounds.

"I mean, I ain't got a problem with it, but I'm not, you know..." he trails off as if unsure of how to finish the sentence.

He can feel the weight of every look his Dad gave him when he stared at another boy for a moment too long, the voices of the kids who called him names in his high schools, the sleazy men in sleazy bars who's eyes would linger uncomfortably on his young-looking face.

Every almost-touch ghosts across his skin; every almost-thought skims through his mind. Dean doesn't know what he does that always tips people off to there being something about him. He knows that he's pretty in a way men shouldn't be. He knows he's emotional, that he cares too much about the wrong stuff, that he has to try too hard to be and do the things he's supposed to.

He knows all of this like he knows how to field-strip his Dad's Barrett, like he know the arteries of the human body.

What he doesn't know is how to fix it.

"Yeah, well, it seems like his dance card is full," Dean says, a little more bitterly than is appropriate. "And I don't plan on trying to 'Have the Time of My Life' anytime soon."

Plus, Dean would totally be the Swayze in that situation. Not that that situation would ever happen, or that Dean would ever think about it happening.

"You certainly have a very interesting way of speaking." Price holds back a chuckle "I apologize if I offended you, that wasn't my intention."

Dean narrows his eyes. Price doesn't sound like he's trying to be a dick, but Dean has never heard words like that that aren't meant to sting.

"Not all of us can sound like we swallowed the friggin' Crucible when we were in middle school."

He keeps his tone light. If Price means well, he may not take offense.

"But I'm not offended, just wanted to set the record straight."

Straight, like Dean is. Now that he doesn't have to talk about it anymore, he can go back to carefully shoving all of those thoughts back in his mental closet where they belong.

Price does not take offense. Of course he doesn't, why would he take offense at something that is clearly a compliment?

"That is understandable. However, since we are discussing the topic, I would like to...Warn you about something."

He curls his mouth. He will be nice but the disgust and anger he feels at the mere thought of Bunny are almost concerning.

"There is this...Bunny, around here, who I am sure means well," he fakes a smiling expression, absolutely not fantasizing of murdering him brutally "but happens to be...Slightly overbearing, at times."

If this isn't being nice Price doesn't know what is. He wants to murder that damn furry clown.

Dean's emotional closet, that he had just managed to shut, bursts open once again.

"Yeah, I ran into him. I'm not sure what his deal is, but he ain't exactly Peter Rabbit."

He doesn't exactly fit with the Easter Hare myths that Dean's familiar with, either. Osterhase literally lays eggs for children, and this guy, what, can make chocolate from thin air?

Don't get him wrong, it's an objectively better and cooler ability, but it seems to come out of nowhere.

Dean's still not sure what he even did to piss him off so much.

"His chocolates fucking good, though."

God, Dean is almost salivating just thinking about it. Which leads Dean to a realization-- he's hungry.

Edited 2021-11-13 22:35 (UTC)

"I'm sure it is." he side eyes the general direction where Bunny was when they met earlier "After all, he aims to appeal to children..."

The displeasure with which he says it may set up things for misunderstanding, but he doesn't care.

"I personally don't trust anyone who tries to appeal to children too deliberately. They are easier to brainwash."

Dean hesitates for a moment.

There are plenty of creatures out there that are said to protect kids. There are also a lot that prey on them instead. He doesn't know if the former exists (though a part of him hopes so, even if it's bitter that he and Sam didn't seem to be worth protecting) but he has certainly dealt with the latter.

"It's like clowns. My kid brother, Sammy, hates clowns. Don't know where I went wrong, but he can't stand the things. But they're supposed to appeal to kids, right?"

Dean shrugs, knowing he probably isn't making much sense.

"I bet Sammy loved meeting the damn Easter Bunny, the giant girl that he is. He all over that kind of crap," Dean kicks a rock away from his feet.

Sam was always believed in the good along with the bad. When he was a kid he would ask questions about things like Santa and Angels and the Tooth Fairy. Dean tried to keep it away from Dad as much as he could, but sometimes he couldn't stop Sam from asking. Then Dad would tell Sammy "he's too old to believe in fairytale crap like that". Then Sam would get upset with Dad, Dad would get upset at Sam, and Dean would be left to pick up the pieces.

"What're you filling his head with, boy?" Dad asked Dean a couple of times, after Sam would shut himself into the motel bathroom after a fight.

Dean always wanted to protest and say "Why can't he believe in that stuff when he believes in everything else? Why can't we let him keep the part of Sam that still believes in fairytales and happy endings?"

But usually he would just shrug. "He hears stuff at school. I've been trying, sir."

Price is about to say something smart, but gets caught in details of Dean's phrasing instead and takes it a bit too literally.

"So believing in the Easter Bunny is a stereotypically female activity among children where you are from?"

It's a legit question. Besides, if this attitude of Dean's is a sign of discriminatory behaviour, it's better to get a clearer picture as soon as possible before it gets worse.

"What? No, he's just-" Dean gestures vaguely in an attempt to get across his meaning, "-he's always believed in the nice shit, along with the bad. So he would like the Easter Bunny being real, it'd make him feel like there are good things out there, not just bad crap."

Dean doesn't think he's talked this much about Sam to another person in years, now. It makes the ever-present ache better and worse in different ways.

"I see..." he muses, then smiles "We need more people like him. You will be pleased to know that last time I met him, he was fine. He was worried about you, but nonetheless decided to be helpful in the missions. A very sweet and kind young man, I like him."

A bit boring, maybe, but yes, Price likes him. He likes to think Sam is doing fine at the moment. Or not. Either way, it's fun.

Dean is very pleased to know that Sam was okay.

"Most people do," Dean says with a fond look on his face.

"Sammy always was a people person. Damn kid could charm the pants off of just about anyone if he tried. He, uh, he used to pull this trick at gas stations where he would grab a couple things he wanted but only be able to pay for one of them. When the cashier told 'im, he got this look on his face, those damn puppy dog eyes, and would almost burst into tears. People would trip over themselves to tell him to just take it, no charge."

Dean laughs to himself, remembering the looks of victory on Sam's face whenever he brought something extra back to the car.

"But yeah, he's a sweet kid. You know, he'd pitch a fit if you tried to kill a spider. I got so damn good at catching the damn things because every time I went to squish 'em, he'd give me that same look."

It's been so long since he's let himself remember these things. He misses his brother so damn much, but he's also so fucking proud of him. Dean wishes he had told Sam that before everything went to hell.

"Aw." he emits out loud "You know, it's refreshing to hear someone speak of their fond memories in a situation such as this one."

He wonders what it's like to feel fondness for someone whining that you shouldn't kill a spider or a bug. It seems utterly nonsensical to him, but judging by Dean's expression it feels good, so of course he wonders. He himself feels fondness for...Well, the experiments he performed. That is not quite the same, though, is it?

"I wonder if he will be brought here as well. After all, many people from the Rig were."

Dean shrugs. "No point in focusing on all the things we don't know or can't do, right now. Might as well focus on the good."

Dean... hadn't thought of that.

Is it selfish to want to see him? It is, right? This is a shitty situation and it's bad enough for all of these people to get stuck here, but Sammy too? But Dean kind of wishes he was here. It's been so long, and it's great hearing about him from these people, but his absence is like a physical weight in Dean's chest.

"Uh-- yeah," he stutters. "I don't know. Seems like it's-- uh-- kind of random."

"Well, if I happen to spot him somewhere, I will send him to you."

He gives Dean a kind smile. See? This conversation is going well, he is good at people again!

Dean looks surprised at the offer.

"I'd-- uh. I'd appreciate that, thanks."

That was probably the most awkward way to accept it, but no one has ever claimed Dean was good at accepting kindness.

Or receiving kindness.

Or being in the same room as kindness.

Someone thanked him! And they weren't sarcastic! And there was no underlying threat or manipulation on either side! This is so exciting, it's never happened to him before. Is this what being nice is like? It feels good so far. He wonders how long it will last and what will happen as soon as he gets bored, though.

"Well, um." he's not sure how to continue or even close the conversation "I'm glad I got to bring you some good news."

Unfortunately, Dean also has no idea how to end the conversation. He's pretty sure this is the first conversation of substance he's had that wasn't about hunting in-- ever? Maybe? Definitely since Sam left.

"Yeah. Well, I was gonna check out the camp, some more, so I guess I'll see you around."

That is a complete lie, Dean was planning no such thing, but it's as good of an excuse as any.

He goes to pat Price on the shoulder. That's what guys do to show positive emotions, or whatever, right? Dean hasn't felt this lost in a social interaction since he was still in high school.

"See you around."

Price is about to wave, but Dean pats his shoulder instead. He flinches because whenever someone is touching him he expects them to hit him by now, but this person did not, in fact hit him. Sure he can't let him see the flinching, it's an unnatural reaction in a friendly setting. He has to communicate that he is a friend. So he pats Dean right back.

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rambles_on - 2021-11-14 22:27 (UTC) - Expand

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