Midnight Muscadines #2 - Fresco Decides to Leave ‘Fen
Midnight Muscadines is a lovingly crafted, cozy dark world where magic is waning and making jam is essential. I spend all my time outside of the game world thinking about my return.
Fresco spent a few days after the Lantern Festival mulling over what he had been told by the false peddler. In his 79 years in Song, he had never once considered his observations were limited. What might it mean to be “The Observer,” but not have all the information memory to catalog secrets in his own mind? This vexed him so much so that he went to Flickerfen’s premier archivist, Mir Wenna, to talk to her—except not once did she address Fresco. He walked around her collection of tomes and knowledge, moving slowly to draw her attention. She flat out ignored him. So it goes. He would have to figure things out for himself.
Another evening spent rocking to and fro in the chair perched on the porch of his marshland home and Fresco weighed his options. He could believe the Nimmian conspiracy, or he could reject it, or… Fresco could find the truth for himself. As he left the archivist’s earlier in the day, Fresco noticed himself in a small mirror that hung for aesthetic effect. He noticed his age and the way time wore on him. Would it be so bad to have an adventure? Was it more dangerous to leave the ‘Fen in search of truth, or let the unknown eat him up?
Fresco made a choice to leave Flickerfen for Cloudlight’s University campus. It would take days. He would cross the Wildernight alone and on foot, with a small pack and no set bog guide. He could do it. He sees everything; he always listens; he never interrupts. A bit of joy bloomed in his old Twilit frame. The next day was dedicated to Fresco putting together his pack and planning a route through bog, plain, and forest to Cloudlight. He was interrupted only once, by Vera, another village elder he had come to appreciate for her candor.
Vera asked Fresco to speak, and so he did. As if reading from a frail scroll, he told his story carefully and with fine details emphasized. Vera did not understand Fresco’s decisions, but she was old enough to know conviction cannot be stopped. She gave him two parting gifts: an ancient silver eye meant to aid in crafting, and a bit of Starling Moss, to illuminate his path. Fresco thanked her and his next meaningful action was setting off on an adventure.
It didn’t take long to encounter choice and consequence. In a star-drenched bog to the southwest of ‘Fen, Fresco happened upon a scrappy Starstealer struggling to get a shooting star loose from a skeleton tree. A twinge of fear crept up Fresco’s neck. There was nothing immediately threatening him, but he knew if a Starstealer was moved to violence to get their black market stars, he wouldn’t win any fight. Fresco opted to help the bandit, and was just narrowly successful.
The Starstealer was delighted and relieved, giving Fresco some story about how he doesn’t sell these stars on the black market, but rather, gives them to a Giant Crypt Guardian he admires. True or not, Fresco was rewarded with an amber gem that set perfectly into the silver eye from Vera. Whether or not they belonged together was less pertinent to Fresco than escaping any further conversation with the Starstealer. He pressed on to the plains in the south, skirting what seemed to be patrols of the Shadows of Tume.
Right as Fresco grew weary, he approached Ember, an old Wildernight town built at the base of an ancient tree stump. Fresco had heard of Ember: they once had much lumber, and now have very little of anything other than crime and desperation, and a few angry dryads who boss everyone around. No matter, its outskirts would be a lovely place to sleep for the night. Fresco set up a small camp, and fell asleep with no issue.