[!]
Those familiar with Elova would notice that after the events of the Human Festival, her health seems to be declining. She rarely leaves her home, now. And when she does, her skin is pale and she walks slowly with a slight limp.
What happened to her...?
[!]
For the next few days, as the fog lasts. There would be a constant noise hearing of a sharpened blade dragged against the cobblestone ground of the spire, in the depths of the night.
For those who have fought the "fog-knight", they would swear they see them, hear them, outside of their doors, waiting to attack once more.
There's been advertisements of a tattoo shop on the pier. A humble little place it was, with a familiar fey-touched lighting incense within its many windowsills for 'protection'. An old tradition many Korami may know of.
Seems like a new tenant has moved in, the soft lanterns and sandalwood smell dissipating as the fog rolls in from the ocean expanses.
That fey-touched hasn't been seen in a moment...
[ ! ]
The fool's lawnmowing persists. However, should one watch this little half-elf they might notice he would, on occasion, lurk near a small pond- a shrine. Foliage close to the shrine was spared and those who might pass by are met with the lawnmower's judgmental gaze.
[!]
Some rapscallions huddle inside the ruins of the Spire, telling tales of its inhabitants
"You know that green hair girl in the hospital?"
"Pork? What about her?"
The hoodlum waves a dismissive hand to correct their friend "No, Meat... anyways, they say she's called that because she actually eats people- like human meat..."
"What like some sort of cannibal vampire? Would explain why she's so pale"
"No nothing as ridiculous like that- although now that you mention it, that one sleep deprived nerd seemed obsessed with blood suckers..."
[!] Rumor has it that five Van Pelts left the spire on horseback and into the foggy rain. Rumor has it that five Van Pelts rode back into town by dawn with 48 blighted slain.
Whether it is man or monster that you need dealt, one name comes to mind: better call Van Pelt.
[ ? ]
A hired construction crew can be seen entering a house in the southern expansion ...
... Followed by the disruptive sounds of chisels and hammers throughout the day.
It is no secret that with the thick fog covering the Spire and it’s shores a few things have gotten lost in transition. Letters arriving, ships sailing more carefully.
Even with it seemingly thinning people are still cautious.
Slightly unrelated but a message in a bottle washes up on shore.
”Have you ‘Mist’ me? Get it cause it’s so foggy? Nothing has been getting through it seems so i’m trying something else. Can you tell the guy with red horns and white eyes i’m almost home? - Gale”
THE BOTTLE IS GONE
◃─────────✧✦♆✦✧─────────▹
Fishermen and traders alike whisper uneasy jokes about the gruesome scene.
"My brother saw those Walljacks walk right into the fog, and never come back out!"
"Ah, your brother wouldn't know shit if it was placed on a plate and he ate it. I saw it, the Herald from the Fog-"
"Wasn't that someone else, and a bit more inland?"
"No, dammit - the Mistan myths seem to have followed those waterlogged folk all the way here. Those scales and that webbed body, that cackle, that cry for the Lady Serene? My friends, it seems we are in the presence of a bonafide Siren, a blessed, of that Mistan mistress."
