Welcome to Harvestide.
Ever since the opening of Omenpaths, the town of Breathold have experienced many changes. First off, the omenpaths to the Sokezan Mountains, found in the center of the town square, naturally would allow the visit of foreigners. Tourists from the urbans and rurals villages could come forwards, curious at the event of this exotic plane: Harvesstide.
The doors and walls quickly were invaded by glowing pumpkins with candles. Tables and cauldrons were disposed at the borders of the forest, as the cooks brought the delight of the festivities: Pies, cookies of honey, lamchops bathed salt, cidar for the childrens, soft drinks for the adults. The locals of Innistrads, with the coming festivals, quickly wore their cloaks and masks, mimicking the usual fauna of the forest. Tought, a few innovators weavers and tailors, have found upon their curious hands, a few "luminious dyes", coming from exotic insect and mushrooms found in the caves. Soon, people dressed as geists joined the tumult, mixing among the locals geists and new kamis. An strange scene indeed, was for the old monk, perched on his lonely cabin.
Gouvle clenched his mask: Of rough carpenter work, it was supposed to look like an ram, yet the snout was too plain, while the horn was too thick, while the other too thin.
"Looking with intense sorrow, won`t transform it Gouvle" An old witch interrupted his toughts, Katarine, wearing an canine skulls of bones as her mask.
"I couln`t accept the generosity of the carpenter this year, Katarine. I desired to do this work on my own." Excused Gouvle, as he accomodated the mask alongside his priestly hat.
The witch laughed in endearment, as her curious eyes fell in the strange visitors. "Mmh. You managued to contract the services of an witch Gouvle?" She asked, as the monk observed the scene at the east of the town. Floating candles akin to the Coven Dawnhart, decorated the road, leading to an collection of crimson tents.
"Biilziebub" Whispered the monk in annoyance.
"One of your many new friends?" Asked Katarine nonchalantly.
The monk waved his head, diffuminating his angry tought.
"Bah. I made an truce with the demon prince for this day. I doubt that he will break it, specially with the visit that will arrrive soon." Gouvle grabbed his staff, descending to the town alongside Katarine and his geists.
"Mmh, such as the goats that you lost?" Asked Katarine.
"Goats? Wich go--" Gouvle interrupted himself, once he regconized an goat. It was the animals that they sacrificed to the boggarts, the one filled with cheese. Looking pristine and alive.
But, Gouvle tought, if the goat came back? Did the devils too?
An rambuctious laughs was proliferated over the goat`s back, from a family of five goblins, as the ran toward the banquet.
The monk sighed, as the witch laughed. This wold be an interesting night.
