As much as the entity's grasp on time-keeping slipped, Beck could at least recognize the moon's many different faces over the course of a month. Tonight, she would be shining down with her full face, no longer obscured by astral shadows. He needed to keep his promise, even if no one could remember what it had been. By the time the sun was sinking below their horizon, Beck had made sure everyone knew to meet him over by the cemetary, hoping the vagueness of it all would lure his peers in. With one thing to cross off from his checklist, the commander set out to finished the next; luckily he had already been working on it for a while. Ransacking abandoned storage units and an costume shop, sifting through discarded junk, trading with outside creatures, and even crafting a few of his own design -- Beck had collected a surplus of masks ranging in all shapes and sizes. Why? In the first raid to retrieve Vladimir, they wore masks. So why not just found a clan, but also spark their traditions? That's how it worked, right?
Since many of the original members of that first failed raid were missing or deserters, Beck assumed more than half of Tanglewood be needing to recieve masks. He hoped he had accumulated enough for them all. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he continued on his path illuminated by the dying sun towards the cemetary. With a burlap sack stuffed full of various masks dragged along between his teeth, his movements were, for once, ginger in fear of damaging a mask from knocking the bag against a jagged rock or something else. He set the bag of masks down next to the graveyard's low brick wall when he arrived, clambering up onto the wall to keep watch for clanmates soon-to-be approaching. It felt like he was forgetting something though. Beck's head inclined to the side in concentration, running through his mental checklist again before realization made him snap back to attention. Right, he needed his own mask. The tiny commander stooped and outstretched ivory claws to hook the burlap sack of masks, pulling it up just enough for him to fish around and retrieve the mask he had made not too long ago before dropping it back down with a wince. The mask itself was fittingly a ghastly accessory, recycled from the picked-clean skull of a mutant unrecognizable from its bone structure -- perhaps its owner used to be a forbidden mix of a deer and some type of horned monster, evident by carnivorous teeth and two devilish horns jutting from its forehead along with spikes lining its cheeks. Its entire mandible had been wrenched off, and the back of the cranium broken away as well, leaving only a quarter of the skull to be used. With a bit of smoothing, sharpening, and attaching a strap to hold it in place, his mask was complete. Slipping it on, he took a moment to adjust the mask until it rested comfortably on his features just as the Tanglewood inhabitants were trickling in. He was much more visible now with a face of bleached bone than with one of scars and mud-colored fur, their eyes mire easily drawn to him. The poltergeist let out a huff of whistling air, notched ear individually perking up as he listened for a full crowd. It was difficult to smell through a mask, he was learning, but he supposed he would just have to adapt like so many other times.
When he suspected the entirety of Tanglewood had squeezed into a moonlit audience before him, Beck straightened from his slouch and rasped with practiced words, "Not many of y'all can remember when two months ago, Tanglewood had its first raid to rescue a fella named Vladimir from the Typhoon. Back then, we wore masks to protect our faces, and to give the enemy a fright when he looked at us." Did they understand his reasoning? The mangy feline shrugged it off, his slightly-oversized mask falling lopsided before he quickly re-adjusted it and continued, "Of course, most of ya are new, so ya ain't got a mask -- yet. Tonight, under the full moon, is your chance to earn a mask and fully join Tanglewood." He paused for a ragged breath in order to keep speaking, lungs sore after a day of talking above a mumble. "Since there's so many new folks, all ya need to do for now is go into the cemetary behind me and find a piece of colored cloth I went and hid out there. Probably two or three at a time, right? If ya can bring one back, ya get to choose a mask from this bag. If ya don't by mornin', then ya have to try again next full moon. Got it? Those of y'all with masks already can stay here to watch or help -- or go back to sleep if ya really wanna." Shrill voice scratchy from his long-winded explanation, Beck rose from his perch and crept atop the cemetary wall towards its entrance only a few feet away, frozen paw moving to open up its black-iron gate for the first volunteers to enter.
/ edit because my 3am explanation is probably awful
because theres so many people who are needing masks, its slightly different than whats described in the guide, where your character has to retrieve a cloth instead of lasting through the night (members with masks already, aka morgan and fen, are still allowed to hunt your character)
[align=center]»――➤Since many of the original members of that first failed raid were missing or deserters, Beck assumed more than half of Tanglewood be needing to recieve masks. He hoped he had accumulated enough for them all. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he continued on his path illuminated by the dying sun towards the cemetary. With a burlap sack stuffed full of various masks dragged along between his teeth, his movements were, for once, ginger in fear of damaging a mask from knocking the bag against a jagged rock or something else. He set the bag of masks down next to the graveyard's low brick wall when he arrived, clambering up onto the wall to keep watch for clanmates soon-to-be approaching. It felt like he was forgetting something though. Beck's head inclined to the side in concentration, running through his mental checklist again before realization made him snap back to attention. Right, he needed his own mask. The tiny commander stooped and outstretched ivory claws to hook the burlap sack of masks, pulling it up just enough for him to fish around and retrieve the mask he had made not too long ago before dropping it back down with a wince. The mask itself was fittingly a ghastly accessory, recycled from the picked-clean skull of a mutant unrecognizable from its bone structure -- perhaps its owner used to be a forbidden mix of a deer and some type of horned monster, evident by carnivorous teeth and two devilish horns jutting from its forehead along with spikes lining its cheeks. Its entire mandible had been wrenched off, and the back of the cranium broken away as well, leaving only a quarter of the skull to be used. With a bit of smoothing, sharpening, and attaching a strap to hold it in place, his mask was complete. Slipping it on, he took a moment to adjust the mask until it rested comfortably on his features just as the Tanglewood inhabitants were trickling in. He was much more visible now with a face of bleached bone than with one of scars and mud-colored fur, their eyes mire easily drawn to him. The poltergeist let out a huff of whistling air, notched ear individually perking up as he listened for a full crowd. It was difficult to smell through a mask, he was learning, but he supposed he would just have to adapt like so many other times.
When he suspected the entirety of Tanglewood had squeezed into a moonlit audience before him, Beck straightened from his slouch and rasped with practiced words, "Not many of y'all can remember when two months ago, Tanglewood had its first raid to rescue a fella named Vladimir from the Typhoon. Back then, we wore masks to protect our faces, and to give the enemy a fright when he looked at us." Did they understand his reasoning? The mangy feline shrugged it off, his slightly-oversized mask falling lopsided before he quickly re-adjusted it and continued, "Of course, most of ya are new, so ya ain't got a mask -- yet. Tonight, under the full moon, is your chance to earn a mask and fully join Tanglewood." He paused for a ragged breath in order to keep speaking, lungs sore after a day of talking above a mumble. "Since there's so many new folks, all ya need to do for now is go into the cemetary behind me and find a piece of colored cloth I went and hid out there. Probably two or three at a time, right? If ya can bring one back, ya get to choose a mask from this bag. If ya don't by mornin', then ya have to try again next full moon. Got it? Those of y'all with masks already can stay here to watch or help -- or go back to sleep if ya really wanna." Shrill voice scratchy from his long-winded explanation, Beck rose from his perch and crept atop the cemetary wall towards its entrance only a few feet away, frozen paw moving to open up its black-iron gate for the first volunteers to enter.
/ edit because my 3am explanation is probably awful
because theres so many people who are needing masks, its slightly different than whats described in the guide, where your character has to retrieve a cloth instead of lasting through the night (members with masks already, aka morgan and fen, are still allowed to hunt your character)
![[Image: unknown.png]](https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/265696166170198016/476480452316889088/unknown.png)
