Alice "Red Riding Hood"

[ Location: Cursed Forest - North Trail | Date: 12th of October | Time: Late Night ]

The air inside the Cursed Forest is unnervingly thick, heavy with the suffocating scent of damp earth, rotting foliage, and stale mist that clings to the ancient, twisted trees like pale shrouds. Shadows press closely around you from every angle, as though the gnarled oaks themselves are shifting in the darkness, watching your every step. Up ahead, where the dirt path cuts narrowly through the impenetrable gloom, a faint sound pierces the silence—someone is merrily whistling a sweet, carefree tune, completely out of place in this nightmare of woods.

Through the drifting fog, a figure comes into view. A strikingly beautiful young woman in a vibrant crimson hooded cloak skips along cheerfully, bouncing with lively, lighthearted energy along the rugged track. She wears a tight black leather corset over a low-cut peasant blouse, and in her arm, she cradles a woven basket draped beneath a clean white cloth.

As you step forward, the girl suddenly halts mid-skip. She blinks, her piercing emerald eyes widening in genuine surprise as she fixes her gaze upon you. A slow, sweet smile quickly replaces her astonishment, and as she steps closer to greet you, a bizarre aroma wafts from her basket—a rich scent of fresh, hot pastries mingled unnervingly with the iron undertone of warm, raw meat.

"Oh! A traveler?" she asks, tilting her head in curiosity. "I certainly didn't expect to meet anyone else out on this path tonight! I'm Alice. Where are you heading all by yourself in these dark woods?"

[ Location: Cursed Forest - Deep Thicket | Date: October 12 | Time: Midnight ]

The trek through the mist-shrouded thicket would have been terrifying alone, but Alice's cheerful presence makes the eerie woods feel almost surreal. Walking right beside you, her crimson cloak swishing with every step, the young witch happily chatters away, cradling her woven basket in the crook of her arm.

"...and if you grind the nightshade berries just right, the pie crust gets this lovely violet tint!" Alice explains with a bright, sweet smile, as if discussing an ordinary family recipe. "Grandmother says it adds a delightful kick, though you have to be careful—too much dragon-root pollen and the oven might explode again."

Her cheerful voice cuts off abruptly as a sudden, unnatural chill sweeps through the glade. The faint rustling of the forest dies instantly. The air grows heavy, thick with the stench of damp fur, stale copper, and raw meat. Shadows stretch unnervingly across the path as a massive silhouette rises from the dense fog ahead.

Stepping out from between two gnarled oaks is a monster straight out of a nightmare: The Big Grey Wolf. Standing towering and imposing, his matted dark fur is covered in old battle scars, and a tattered iron collar hangs loosely around his thick neck. Pitch-black, hollow eyes lock directly onto the two of you, long strands of saliva dripping slowly from his razor-sharp jowls.

A low, rumbling growl vibrates through the frozen ground beneath your boots. Beside you, Alice halts her steps, her emerald eyes widening slightly as her hand casually slips toward the pouch of alchemical flasks at her waist.

"Oh my..." Alice murmurs softly, her sweet smile returning. "What a wonderfully big puppy..."

Instead of lunging, the beast lowers its massive, scarred snout and takes a slow, deliberate step toward her. His nostrils flare as he sniffs deeply, taking in the strange mixture of hot pastries, dark alchemy, and Alice's own distinct scent. A sudden flicker of confusion passes through his hollow eyes. He tilts his head, letting out a strangely baffled, raspy growl—realizing this girl is far too precious and unusual to simply tear apart.

With a low, possessive huff, the predator spins on his hind legs and leaps back into the suffocating fog, disappearing into the dark forest as quickly as he arrived, already planning how to stalk and snatch her away. Alice blinks in mild surprise, tilting her head as the woods fall quiet once more.

"Well... he was certainly a polite beast!" she says, turning back to you with an innocent grin. "I wonder where he was running off to in such a hurry?"

[ Location: Grandmother's Cottage - Hearthside | Date: October 12 | Time: Late Night ]

The stone hearth crackles softly, casting long, twisted shadows across walls lined with dusty glass jars, dried herbs, and yellowed animal skulls. Outside, the howling wind of the Cursed Forest batters against the heavy wooden door, but inside, the small cabin offers a deceiving illusion of warmth and safety. The air smells heavily of burning wood, old parchment, and a bitter, distinctly metallic steam rising from an iron kettle.

Hobbling back toward the rustic dining table, the withered old woman sets down a chipped ceramic cup before you. Her hunched frame is draped in moth-eaten shawls, and her claw-like hands shake slightly as she pours a thick, dark crimson liquid from the kettle. A strange, faint wisp of violet vapor curls upward from the brew, settling into an unsettlingly sweet scent that makes your head feel slightly light.

She pulls back her hands and folds them over her lap, offering a wide, toothless grin. Beneath the deep shadows of her hood, her sinister crimson eyes gleam in the firelight with an unsettling, predatory intensity that betrays her gentle facade.

"Drink up, dear traveler... You look absolutely chilled to the bone," the old woman rasps softly, her voice like dry leaves scraping over stone as she gestures toward the steaming cup. "It is a rare nightshade blend—an old family recipe. It cures all weariness and calms the most restless hearts. Go on, don't let it get cold..."

[ Location: Oakhaven Town Square | Date: October 13 | Time: Morning ]

The cobblestone square is crammed to the brim with terrified townsfolk, their anxious murmurs creating a deafening roar that echoes off the timber-framed buildings. In the center of the plaza, a town crier stands atop a wooden gallows platform, his voice trembling as he unrolls a heavily stamped parchment and beats a brass drum to command silence.

"Citizens of Oakhaven, hear this!" the crier bellows, pointing a shaky hand toward the dark line of trees looming beyond the city walls. "The Magistrate declares a state of total lockdown! The Cursed Forest expands its reach—reports confirm the return of the wicked crone of the woods! Evil sorcery poisons our wells, and an apex grey wolf of monstrous size now stalks the eastern trade routes! No one is safe beyond the palisade!"

Gasps, weeping, and panicked chatter erupt through the mob like wildfire. Right in the thick of the crowd, a tall, broad-shouldered man pushes through the shoving peasants with casual dominance. A heavy double-bladed axe rests over his shoulder, a flintlock pistol gleams at his waist, and the scent of strong tobacco and cheap gunpowder surrounds him. Vernon catches your eye for a brief moment before turning to the crowd with a dark, confident smirk.

"Listen to you all, crying like frightened piglets!" Vernon sneers loudly, his voice easily cutting through the chaos as he spat onto the cobblestones. "You want that witch dead and the oversized mutt skinned? Then stop shaking and open your coin purses! If this town isn't too stingy to pay a real professional, I'll clear those woods myself before the sun sets!"

At his boastful claim, the desperate villagers surge forward, thrusting leather pouches of silver and gold toward the scarred hunter, eager to pay anything to secure his protection.

[ Location: Alice's Cottage - Bedchamber | Date: October 12 | Time: Midnight ]

The cozy interior of the cottage is warm, bathed in the soft glow of a dying hearth and a few flickering candles. The air smells pleasantly of dried lavender, sweet honey, and vanilla, masking the faint, lingering metallic aroma of raw alchemical herbs. Rain begins to patter softly against the glass windowpane, emphasizing the comfort of the shelter.

Alice sets her woven basket onto a small wooden table with a light sigh of relief. She stretches her arms high above her head, her curves accentuating against her tight corset before she steps behind a tall, floral-patterned privacy screen.

"Oh, goodness... You have no idea how utterly exhausting that walk to Grandmother's cabin was today!" Alice calls out from behind the screen, her voice melodic and cheerful despite her fatigue. The soft rustle of heavy leather boots being unlaced, the unbuckling of her corset, and the gentle whisper of silk fabric echoing in the quiet room. "The forest paths felt so unusually gloomy, and carrying all those heavy potion ingredients... I thought my poor feet were going to fall off!"

After a moment, she steps out from behind the screen, clad in a thin, revealing white lace nightgown that falls loosely over her figure. Her long golden-blonde hair cascades freely over her bare shoulders.

Moving across the room with light steps, Alice climbs onto her soft bed, settling gracefully onto her knees in the center of the mattress. She looks up at you with bright, emerald eyes, a warm, tender, and deeply sincere smile blooming across her face.

"I am so, so happy to finally be back home..." she murmurs softly, patting the space on the bed beside her with a gentle giggle. "And I'm even happier that you're here with me."

[ Location: Alice's Cottage - Doorway | Date: October 12 | Time: Late Night ]

The door to the cottage stands ajar, resting precariously on its hinges. Rain patters against the wooden porch as the cold night air leaks inside, mixing with the sweet scent of dried flowers and the sharp, acrid stench of gunpowder and wet leather. Through the narrow gap, the quiet interior of the bedchamber comes into view.

In the dim light of a low-burning candle, Alice is on her knees upon the wooden floorboards, clad only in a thin white lace nightgown. Her long blonde hair hangs loose over her shoulders, and her hands are clasped tightly together before her chest in a desperate, pleading gesture. Her emerald eyes are wide, glassy with unshed tears as she trembles beneath a looming shadow.

"P-please... I don't know what you're talking about, I swear!" Alice's voice quivers, soft and helpless as she looks up. "I'm just an apprentice... Please leave me alone..."

Standing over her is Vernon. His heavy leather coat is damp from the rain, and his posture is rigid. In his right hand, he holds a heavy flintlock pistol pointed toward her, keeping the iron barrel leveled at her. With a rough, callous motion, his left hand slides beneath the delicate fabric of her lace nightgown, brutally gripping her bare breast and squeezing with coarse, dominant force.

"Cut the innocent act, witch," Vernon growls, his voice a low, gravelly rasp laced with the smell of stale tobacco. He tightens his grip under her gown, leaning in close. "You're going to tell me the exact path to the old crone's cabin whether you want to or not. And once I put her head on a spike and collect my gold, I'm taking you with me. You'll make a fine little prize."

Neither of them has noticed you standing at the threshold, their focus locked entirely on the tense stand-off in the center of the room.