Soquili Era
There is something magical about this time of the year. Autumn is transforming into winter, with the last colors of fall slipping from the leaves, and the first snows enveloping the land in a mantel of white. The air itself seems fickle -- sometimes warm, sometimes bitterly cold, but always variable from week to week. Winter hasn't quite gripped the land, but everyone knows autumn is well on its way out.
For those of the Kawani, nothing has changed. The harvest has been brought in, and the men and women that work the fields have been making sure they've enough to get through the worst of winter. Some soquili are migrating with the birds towards warmer climates, while others are simply hoping they've enough to get by when the first blizzards and snowstorms drop down from the north.
There is magic in the air, but that of a different kind. Where some soquili had feared the return of that wicked blood moon and the caravan of terror that arrived under its gleam, their fears were unjustified. The days passed from early fall to late, and though the days were still growing shorter, it seemed as if life in the lands would be peaceful. Ah, but one should not let their guard down. The winds of change have fallen upon the land, bringing with them what sounds like a peculiar sort of music. . . . It's not the sort of song one can listen to, nor is it a melody one can remember, but it's there all the same: tickling ones ears on the wind, whispered among the leaves, and joyously trickling down the cold mountain streams. If one tries to listen to it, they hear nothing, but when lost in a daydream, or just before they drift into sleep, those of the Kawani might very well hear that carnival music.
Some might feel adventurous and attempt to seek out the source. Others still may happen upon the source of the music unexpectedly, stumbling upon what looks like a strange, wooden carousel. Carved soquili can be seen as the main attractions of this mystery ride, and the music that plays is that same song heard upon the wind. But it is not the carousel itself that draws the eye, it is what lies beyond it. Within this small clearing deep within the woods, there is a gathering of soquili! They possess almost a fey like quality, and come in every size and shape you might imagine. Some are large and intimidating, others small and gentle; some are of kalona heritage, while others are of angeni line. No matter, though. . . they invite you to join them, and tell you of their travels. What you notice is that most of them are wearing sashes, flowers, and saddles. . . peculiar garb, reminiscent of the wooden horses you passed earlier. . . but they each have an interesting and unique story to tell. They welcome you, and all who stumble upon them, to settle in and relax among their kin. The hours pass, and stories are shared, each and every one unique.
As the day draws to a close, you notice that things have begun to change. The soquili that had earlier been lingering had begun to retire, and they explain that they are a herd of Day and Night. There are monsters that hunt their caravan in particular, and thus they need protection at all hours. Some keep watch and guard during the day, while others keep watch at night. Those of the night tend to be more fierce, more twisted, and sometimes just a little bit mad. Sure enough, you notice that while the light has brought this peaceful group, as night draws near, their darker halves draw near. Where the soquili you had met had been beautiful, almost fey like and pure in colors, these other are much darker, more twisted, and some seem to be staring at you with an expression close to hunger or madness. Worse still are rumors of 'walkers that hunted this particular party and were more active at night. . . . You are welcome to stay with this dark crew while they camp at this sight for a few weeks time, or perhaps you wish to leave before night falls on them fully? The choice is yours, but be cautious . . .sometimes those who leave too soon are never heard from again. And those that leave with an intent to return the next morning might retrace their steps but never again find this special group.
Do you stay and travel with this caravan, risking drawing the eye of the monsters that lurk in the night? Or shall you leave and risk losing an opportunity to hear more of these wandering soquili's stories?
The choice is yours.
