Witch

[KarneWarrior]

>Begin

You are a witch. Or at least, you're going to be. You are standing outside of a cottage belonging to your new teacher. The landscape around you is green and verdant, grassy, rolling hills with mountains looming far far away, purple in the rising sun. The clouds spin over the rippling grasses as the wind toussels the soft blades of grass and the fluffy wool of sheep. It would be picturesque, were it not for the far-away cursing of a shepherd.

Slightly to the east and rimward is a dark forest, large trees rising from the horizon. The leaves rattle, a susurration that can be heard even over here. Really, trees are rather dreadful at being quiet and ominous.

You're supposed to knock, but the door is open... What do you do?

[Whimbrel]

Call out "Hello" and wait for a response before you go barging in.

[KarneWarrior]

"Hello?" You call out tenatively. Nobody answers. You take a step towards the cottage, which smells like sheep oil, freshly laundered socks, and a faint trace of terrible tobacco. You knock on the doorframe, but there's no response.

Inside the cottage is rather sparse. A bed sits in the corner, tousled and untidy. Above it is a shelf filled with objects of most likely sentimental value, like tobacco wrappers, porcelain shepherdesses, a silver necklace, and a small, stuffed rabbit. There's also a stove and counter, covered with jars and pans, and a rusted sink.

You feel like someone is watching you, but no-one seems to be home... It's scary in here. Powerful and alien. It's hard, unyielding, stronger than any other cottage you've- why did that jar just rattle jars shouldn't rattle that's wrong.

>_?

[Whimbrel]

Pick up the jar!

[insaneyanish]

>Witch: Rattle that jar yourself! Ghosts like that shit when you play with them. Being dead is boring as shit most of the time.

[KarneWarrior]

>Witch: Rattle that jar yourself! Ghosts like that shit when you play with them. Being dead is boring as shit most of the time.

When you reach for the jar, you notice something inside! but when you take the lid off, there's nothing in there but a ball of lint and a snail.

This doesn't strike you as ghost activity. Your neighbors had a ghost. Name of Larry. Nice guy, even if he was a little insensitive to trolls. Called them "Boulderlovers", foul language omitted.

But yeah, this doesn't seem like a ghost.

[SkyKat]

Ghost: appear

[KarneWarrior]

The ghost fails to appear because the ghost doesn't exist.

Try again.

[Whimbrel]

Examine Rabbit

[lovecraftianParadox]

> Take the snail and keep it as a companion! Every good witch needs a familiar, right?

[Cadorean]

House: find yourself smack in the middle of the mojave desert and get Manhattan Project'd.

Snail: be the teacher.

[Ace]

Pace around the room until bored

[crystalCat]

Er, would this be by any chance a Discworld reference? The "rimward" part and reference to trolls as "boulderlovers" set me thinking.

[electronicAura]

Snails have to be good for something. Take the snail! You could use it for your next shamble.

[Doopliss]

>Put some tea on. Nothing like a kettle of tea to serve as a base camp in alien cottages with mysterious witches.

[KarneWarrior]

You put the tea on the kettle and set it to boil, for lack of anything else to do.

the house is kind of lonely, you think, without anyone else home. You wonder if the witch who lives here- Ow! something bit you!

You pull up your skirts slightly and take a good look at your leg. It doesn't look like a normal bite; a bit too long, a bit too neat. It looks more like something took a slash at you while running by. You figure you must have scraped your leg against a nail in the chair or something. Any other explaination would be rediculous.

The old hag still isn't home! You agrily pull the tea kettle out of the fire, plop down with a teacup, and take a giant mouthful of odd tasting tea. It kind of tastes alchoholic... Bleh. You set aside the teacup.

There are several random thumps from around the cottage, but when you turn to look you don't see anything. You get out of your chair to investigate, but that also proves fruitless. As you return to your chair though, you find a note!

"WEN R U JONER LEEVE"

[Cadorean]

...That snail, man. In that cottage. What'cha gonna do??

[Whimbrel]

Say you hope to stay until you learn how to be a witch.

[KarneWarrior]

You decide to say aloud "I'm staying until I become a witch."

What follows is the type of silence of several loud men thinking very, very hard.

"Oh weel, we're doomed." Pipes a voice from one corner of the hut.

"Wullie, remember when I told you, that next time you think of talking, when we're hidin', that instead you should put yer hed up a DUCKS ARSE?"

"Aye, Rob, I remember"

"Wullie, this was one of those times." A small blue blur sped from the corner of the room and out the door. "No, not for-!"

There came an exited honking from outside.

"weel, damn."

You have no idea what's going on.

((Ooh, me accent's slipping. I need to reread some Tiffany Aching, and recall how the Feegles spoke. In the meantime, I think I have a reasonably plausible excuse.))

[Cadorean]

Chase after the blue thing.

[KarneWarrior]

You honestly do not want to chase after the blue thing. You're reasonably certain (and a witch never goes much farther than that) that he just shoved his head up a duck. Wrong-way in, to put it delicately.

[Cadorean]

Wait, blue thing and free duck? Now you HAVE to go find it.

[KarneWarrior]

As you move towards it, the door shuts with finality.

Didn't you hear someone talking?

[Cadorean]

Screw that, bust out the window! There's a duck somewhere!

[Whimbrel]

Try and locate voice's location