It’s not a common occurrence, by any means. It’s uncommon enough that some people believe it doesn’t happen any more, which is not correct.
SPIRITS OF THE SUN
Always in broad daylight. Let other spirits wear Night’s cloak.
Standing across a bridge. Why do they block your path? The All-Beholding Sun is not called such for Her lack of foresight. Perhaps it is better that you turn back.
By the roadside, burying a fallen warrior. All the Hedge-Knights know the stories of knights dying lonely deaths, and yet still being buried, and their place memorialised. Not every spirit of the Sun has such a respect for the oath-bound. But enough do.
On a disputed barricade. Some Sun Spirits love freedom, you see, in a pure and direct way. It does not happen so much anymore, but the Scribes have moments of history where a blazing figure appeared to bolster a crowd - or perhaps to strike at them with a gleaming blade.
In your bedroom. Nothing improper - they arrived at dawn sharp, with a very holy missive from the highest of lights. You have a mission. You ought to accept it, the Sun lights all the land for you. It would be ungrateful to shirk. Is the mission actually from the Sun, or just the machinations of one of her Princes?
In the desert, on a high mountain peak, lost and abandoned miles from the roads. Those burning under the Sun or staring into Her radiance report being guided back to safety by a disembodied voice, or receiving whispered wisdom from above.
In ancient temples, most of all. Especially ones to the Sun. If you have disrespected the architect of creation, they leap zealously to make you a burnt offering to her.
SPIRITS OF THE MOON
Drunk out of your mind. Was it a hallucination? A dream? Well, some report being a man yesterday and a woman the next, so those encounters almost certainly happened.
Out at sea. Especially if you are becalmed. They come up out of the water to probably mock you for your foolishness. Return to the land, this is our domain, and others’. If you can entertain them with your charm or seduce one they will probably return you to land as if the mockery thing was all just light fun.
In your bedroom. Something improper, if you’re up for it. Otherwise, they wonder if you can introduce them to a friend of yours. Always better to arrive heralded, you know, always better to have a little circle of friends.
Wandering in a deep fog. Often, they are the source of the deep fog. They are about secret business out of the sight of Moon and Stars, ensconced in the hazes. They will be standoffish, demanding proof you are not who they suspect you to be. Or perhaps they’re having a party with members of their clique, and they will be easygoing, secure and braggadocious.
All alone in a glade, weeping secret tears. If you do something appropriately Romantic, they may find your addition to their secret melancholy artistic and charming. They may even reward you. If you are brash and inconsiderate, they may curse or deform you for insufficient sensitivity to them, the most important thing in the world at this time.
At great tragedies. They flicker there invisibly, and play soft music only heard by some ears. They enjoy the melancholy and the drama, of course, but some piece of them is sympathetic, it is true, and plays to soothe the injury.
In a long-forgotten place. Some meet here, because forgotten things are the Moon’s province. The more inexplicable and impossible, the more they love to startle you when you wander in.
SPIRITS OF THE STARS
Atop a very tall tower. They keep a watchful eye on any mortals who get too close to the heavens, and to any who get too close to towers.
In the hidden inner chamber where a secret society meets. Stellar Spirits often sponsor small groups of would-be intellectuals, eager learners and inventive minds. They do this of course because knowledge enlightens the world, but also because these groups inevitably soothe their ego, agree with all of their points, and carry out their projects in the world.
At the threshold of a gate not meant to be opened. Some gates are guarded by things older still, of course. But many are guarded by spirits of the Stars. Mortals may not transgress boundaries, walk roads, climb towers or descend into depths without permission. Stellar spirits do all these things constantly, but that is their right, noblesse oblige and probably divine prerogative. It is also all of these things for them to keep you out of this gate.
In the ruins of an ancient city. Most of them are very hidebound sorts, and if they have agreed that on the tenth day of Summer they will appear in the meeting-hall of the glassy intellects of the city, they will do that. If they agree to do so for a term of two centuries in exchange for a temple to their gnosis, they will fulfil that promise. Even if all the people leave and the city’s walls collapse, they will come to the ruin of the meeting-hall, in case someone is in attendance. They may even deliver the lecture to nobody.
In impromptu council in some isolated house or fort. Perhaps even without the permission of said places’ inhabitants. It is terribly uncouth to form a council out in the wilderness, of course, and terribly uncouth to act without consulting one’s fellows.
In the middle of an ongoing succession, election, factional dispute, or inter-aristocratic struggle. No matter how petty the politics, Stellar spirits see in it a piece in a grand and universal game. This happens less in the Kingdom, these days, of course. Still, sometimes you will meet a Count’s third son, wonder why he is the heir, then see the halo of pale light in his reflection.
In flight across the dark countryside. They are in pursuit of someone who is fleeing them, and they are leaping through the air like white arrows to seize their prey. Snow falls and a cold wind blows from the north. They dart along through the dark, faces set.
SPIRITS OF THE VOID
The most classic place, of course, is at the crossroads at midnight. Subjects of the Kingdom avoid crossroads at night like the plague, and this is a wise thing to do. They find nothing funnier than waylaying some poor bastard and turning his face into rats, or the like. Worse yet are the ones who offer deals at crossroads (the Chantry class them as “Adversarials”), in imitation of the one himself who came up with the practice. Their deals aren’t guaranteed to be effective, unlike his, but I guarantee, they’re not as bad as he is.
A cold and foul wind blows through your town at night, and frightening things begin to happen. Shadows lengthen, animals sprout boils and die, the statues smile and their heads follow you. Most of the time, the Unlit are simply frightening you to amuse themselves, but if they feel wronged or angry, perhaps they will decide to destroy you.
In a great host descending on the earth like a swarm of locusts. These great “Night Parades” strike fear into all, but a person they catch on the road can play their games, sing their marching songs, drink their foul liquor, and go leaping through the sky with them. You’ll be no worse for wear, but a good few miles from home, come morning. If you’re a sour buzzkill and insist on going home, they’ll take you there - and drag you the whole way.
At a great pit dug into the dark earth. People have been digging these since before writing to worship that dark power called the Void. Later, they also began to be used to worship the servants of that power. In these places they will be proud, smug, indolent, and expecting offerings.
In unclean places, pits of waste, middens, the edge of the party in the haze of sick. Worms and rats gather to them, and leeches in Magnos. To be in the way of the Void is to abandon that foolish idea called “purity”, to understand that all morality and cleanliness is frivolity, shadow-puppetry and candle-play.
After a battle when crows are feasting on the carrion. They are looking for choice cuts, of course, but also dying souls to snatch back from the precipice and place into their debt.
On the side of the road at night, or in your garden at night, or in your hall or cellar at night, or on the roof at night, or out the back of the tavern at night, or in the back-alley at night - really, anywhere at night. They are there to do some creepypasta shit and scare the fuck out of you.
