Writing Prompt Local legend of your story

ACertainPassingUser

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Prompt :
write a conversation scenario of how locals people in talks about a local legend of your story
 

SainS

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Just finished a chapter where protag browses local arcnet (magic internet) for tips on how to deal with spirits in a certain area.


GrayForeigner:
To preface, I’m a fifth year WACA student who has completed five Un exams, walked the halls of the other W, and earned passage to the Keyless Court. Most current students probably haven’t met me, I’ve been hermiting it out in the exam floors, but I hope that those in the know can vouch for my advice’s validity.
The stretch of oddlands known as Briacrawl Woods is what I would classify as a lightly warped spirit domain. The original spirits are still mostly in charge and warpings are under their influence, if not direct control. This is important, because it means you can rely on local traditions to deal with the weird stuff.
To my knowledge Briacrawl Woods is (and feel free to correct me) an early remnant stage spirit ecosystem. Legends surrounding the Bramble Forts of Great Draiaa (not to be confused with central continent Dryads though there are similarities), rose to prominence in the sorcerous age and persisted through heroic age until the fourth century modern calendar, when Magogram Magogrammed. So the origin of spirits is in very bloody magics and dark rituals, but they are also all about fair deals, equal exchange, and polite hospitality. These ones won't lie to you directly, unless first lied to.
Specific traditions to note: Clearings are halls of great beings and therefore dangerous, rivers are borders, paths are treacherous to those who disrespect the woods, and speaking into the night will get you snatched by the local equivalent of whooragoo. Keep in mind this is from research. Speak to locals if you can find them! Always speak to locals.
I would also suggest finding a local guide versed in legend lore (preferably a local non-wizard practitioner if any still exist) or employing the services of a spirit. Given they originate from the sorcerous era, I’m certain they will ask for a payment that may seem hefty at first. However, I advise you to pay immediately. Refusing might not directly anger them, but they will be likely to sabotage your journey and approach you with a much steeper price at a moment where you are unable to refuse. Of course, a local human guide is preferable. But if you can’t get one, pay the spirits.
As for other precautions. So long as you respect the local spirits and nature, warped stuff of this level should not be dangerous. However, always stay alert, and if you notice active warping, leave.
Symbolic barriers and precautions will work against most spirits. Use what you have available and are familiar with. Rivers and running water is especially potent, given its place in local lore.
Physical barriers will serve against native and warped fauna, though again, they should be under the spirits’ influence. Still, it's a good habit to set up defensive camps in oddlands. Keep a fire going. It’s the best symbolic and physical spirit/beast repellant since our ancestors arrived on Oor.
I will try to answer questions while I have a stable connection.
 

RepresentingEnvy

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Boron trudged into the tavern. The rain drenched his poncho, making him at least a goblin’s weight heavier. He sat at the bar next to his usual companion, Tib.

Tib patted him on the back. “Hey, bud, see you got wet, too.”

Boron laughed. “Yeah, the damn storm is unrelenting tonight.”

Bartender Ellana walked over and placed two glasses on the table. The vixen smiled at them, “What’ll you two have tonight?”

“I’d like some ale,” Tib said.

“Same here.”

“I couldn’t help overhear you two speaking. Forgive me for the intrusion,” Ellana said, pouring their drinks. She leaned over the counter.

The two men grinned from the display of cleavage. “It’s no consequence to us, miss.”

“You know why the storms been so bad lately?” Ellana asked.

“Not a clue.” Tib belched. “That’s the stuff.”

Boron drank slower than his companion. He knitted his eyebrows in concentration. “Actually, it mighta been Durge.”

Ellana flinched. “Durge?”

“Aye, Durge. Durge, The Storm.”

“You for real, Boron?”

“I know what I saw,” Boron said. “Rode his horse through a few hours ago.”

“Who in Sanctuary is Durge?” Ellana asked impatiently.

This time, some other nearby drunkard chimed in with slurred words. “Say ‘e roides with the storms and causes ‘em.” The drunken man fell from his stool with a hearty chuckle.

“Well, that’s about it,” Boron said. “He’s a penchant for causing those storms wherever one should find him, and I saw him ridin’ today.”
 
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