🍍 DAY 4 — “FRUITS FOR THE GODS AND THE DEAD”
Guild: Double D’s

By the fourth day inside the Pyramid, the group had accepted three undeniable truths:

• The Pyramid was absolutely haunted.

• Tara should never be trusted as a translator.

• Oksana definitely knew more than she admitted.

The third realization arrived during breakfast. 

Julie was finally speaking English again. 

Everyone celebrated .

Especially John .

“Oh thank God,” he whispered. “I cannot survive another day of Tara translating Spanish like a confused pirate.”

Tara pointed aggressively with a banana. 

“For your information, I was doing EXCELLENT.”

“You told us Julie said the ceremonial dogs invented soup.”

“They might have. ”

Julie opened her mouth to respond—

But before she could speak, Oksana calmly entered the room carrying tea and said:

"Buenos días. ¿Por qué Tara está sosteniendo esa banana como una amenaza?"

Silence .

Everyone slowly turned .

Laura blinked. “...Wait.”

Lala narrowed her eyes. “YOU SPEAK SPANISH?”

Oksana paused .

Then she smiled slightly .

“Sí.”

Tara looked personally betrayed. “YOU LET ME TRANSLATE FOR TWO DAYS?”

Oksana sipped her tea peacefully. “I was curious to see where the confidence would take you.”

John actually choked up laughing.

Julie covered her face .

“TARA TOLD US I WAS WARNING EVERYONE ABOUT TAX-STEALING RACCOONS.”

Oksana nodded thoughtfully. “That was not especially close.”

Tara crossed her arms. “Okay well maybe I was translating emotionally.”

Unfortunately, at that exact moment, the Pyramid rumbled.

Everyone froze .

Lala sighed. "Fantastic. The walls heard us again."

A deep golden glow suddenly spread across the floor beneath Oksana's feet.

Julie pointed. “Uh...”

Too late.

The light surged upward.

The torches exploded with green flame.

And Oksana blinked once before calmly announcing:

“¿Por qué puedo hablar solamente en español?”

John closed his eyes immediately.

“No.”

“Yes,” Laura whispered.

Lala collapsed dramatically against a pillar. “The Pyramid switched teachers.”

Now only Oksana could speak Spanish.

And this time, Tara became the group's official translator.

Against everyone's will.

“Oh my GOD,” Tara gasped. “This is MY MOMENT!”

“It absolutely shouldn't be,” John replied.

Deep within the Pyramid, the group entered a long ceremonial corridor overflowing with carvings of fruits, flowers, feasts, and offerings.  Massive murals lined the walls showing grand celebrations before dark hooded priests carried bowls into burial chambers.

At the center of the final room stood the artifact:

The Fruit Bowl.

An enormous golden bowl overflowing with jeweled carvings of pomegranates, figs, grapes, and pineapples.  The fruit looked impossibly fresh despite being ancient.

Julie stepped closer carefully. “Okay that's genuinely beautiful.”

Oksana immediately spoke sharply in Spanish.

Tara gasped.

“What?”

Tara listened intently.

“...Okay so apparently the fruit represents life, death, rebirth, sacrifice... and maybe diarrhea.”

Oksana stared at her in disbelief.

“That cannot possibly be correct,” John said.

Oksana spoke again, slower this time.

Tara nodded confidently.

“She says if we touch the bowl we may awaken the ancient pineapple king.”

Lala wheezed laughing. “The WHAT?”

Julie folded her arms. “Tara, are you making up seventy percent of this?”

“Only the uncertain parts.”

The moment Laura gently touched the Fruit Bowl, music exploded through the chamber.

Bright lanterns appeared overhead.  The cold Pyramid transformed instantly into a massive celebration.

Tables filled with fruit stretched endlessly through the hall while dancers spun through clouds of golden smoke.  Musicians played drums and flutes while servants carried trays overflowing with food.

At the center of the feast sat a royal family smiling proudly beside the Fruit Bowl.  For once, the vision wasn't frightening.

It was joyful.

Warm.

Alive.

Lala looked around in awe. “Okay... this one's actually nice.”

Then Tara grabbed a glowing grape from a ghost table.

John immediately shouted, “DO NOT EAT THE HAUNTED FRUIT.”

Too late.

Tara swallowed.

The music stopped instantly.

Every ghost in the chamber slowly turned towards her.

“...Oh no,” Laura whispered.

Tara froze mid-chew.

The royal family stood.  The drumming became louder.

One ghost priest pointed directly at Tara and began shouting angrily.

Oksana responded fluently in Spanish.

The ghost paused.

Then he answered her.

Everyone stared.

John blinked slowly. “Are... are you talking with ancient dead people?”

Oksana continued the conversation calmly.

Tara listened carefully beside her.

“Oh wow,” Tara whispered. “Okay this is bad.”

“What is happening?” Julie asked.

Tara looked horrified.

“He says Tara has dishonored the sacred fruit ceremony and now must be offered to the gods.”

Silence.

Lala burst out laughing immediately.

John nodded once. “Honestly the system seems fair.”

“I ATE ONE GRAPE.”

Oksana spoke again firmly to the priest.

The ghosts are murmured among themselves.

Tara squinted. “Okay... now she's arguing that I'm too annoying to sacrifice because the gods would send me back.”

Even the ghost priest seemed to consider that carefully.

Lala was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

Julie leaned against a wall wiping tears from her eyes.

Finally the ghost priest sighed dramatically and waved his hand.

The feast resumed.

The curse lifted.

The music is back.

Apparently even the ancient dead did not want responsibility for Tara.

The vision slowly faded away until the chamber became silent once more.  Only the Fruit Bowl remained glowing softly atop the altar.

Oksana smiled warmly at the group and spoke quietly in Spanish.

Everyone looked at Tara.

Tara translated carefully this time.

“She says… celebrations matter because people rarely realize they're living inside the good old days until they're gone.”

The group fell silent for a moment.

“...That was actually beautiful,” Laura said softly.

Oksana smiled .

Then she added another sentence in Spanish.

Tara listened .

“Oh. And she says John walks like a tired substitute teacher who has given up on classroom control.”

John stared into the darkness.

“That is also fair. ”

Some deep where beneath the Pyramid, ancient stone shifted again.

Even the Pyramid sounded exhausted.

Отредактировано Lala (2026-06-09 05:21:09)

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LaLa a3d26b
Guild Double D’s

Guild: Double D’s

Day 4 — "Fruits for the Gods and the Dead"
TRIBUTES OF NATIONALS COLLECTION
Bowl with Fruits

I did not expect Day Four to be a feast day. In retrospect, I should have — because Oksana had packed a basket. And when we reached the great altar room, with its carved banquet scenes stretching wall to wall and its wide flat stone table, she simply began laying things out: bread, fruit, cheese, and a jar of olives so good I had to stop myself from eating them all immediately, which I consider a significant personal achievement. 

At the center of the altar sat the Bowl with Fruits — ceramic, ancient, painted in brilliant relief with pineapple, mango, round bright berries. The real fruit had long since returned to the earth, but the bowl remained. A record. A declaration. Life happened here, and it was worth celebrating.

 I ate an olive and felt, genuinely, that I agreed.


"This is a little macabre," Lala announced. "Picnicking on a sacrificial altar.”


"It's an offering," Tara said, consulting her notebook. "We're continuing an ancient tradition of — "


"Eating cheese in a pyramid," John said. "I've made peace with it.
"

The afternoon light came gold and slanted through a high stone window and fell across the altar in long warm stripes, and for a while nobody said much of anything. Laura said it was the most beautiful room she'd ever been in. Lala agreed, and I noted the rarity of that in my notebook because data is data.


Oksana raised her cup of tea, and said, "To whatever gods are listening. We brought the good stuff."


The jungle rustled outside. Approvingly, I thought. I wrote that down, though I'm aware it's not strictly verifiable.

Some things you record anyway.

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Guild: Double D’s

Guild Quest. Day 4   Mayan PYRAMID: GIFTS OF MICTLANTECUTL 
Guild: Double D’s

DAY 4 — FRUITS FOR THE GODS AND THE DEAD
FOUND: The Fruit Bowl
Subjects' Offerings Collection

On the fourth day they reached the highest terrace before the summit.

Waiting upon a stone table sat a magnificent Fruit Bowl overflowing with golden mangoes, pineapples, cocoa pods, and strange turquoise-colored fruits no longer found in the world.

The moment Tara touched it, music echoed through the Pyramid.

A celebration unfolded .

The final feast before a sacred sacrifice.

The city below glowed with lanterns.

Children danced .

Families gathered .

Musicians played drums until the stars appeared.

At the center sat a young prince destined to be offered to the gods at sunrise.

Yet he smiled .

The people cried .

The prince did not .

His mother placed fruit into the sacred bowl.

"Are you afraid? "

"A little," he admitted .

His father embraced him .

"Then why do you smile? "

The prince looked towards the Pyramid.

"Because life was worth having."

All night the city celebrated.

Stories were shared .

Songs were sung .

Old arguments were forgiven.

The Fruit Bowl passed from family to family.

Each fruit represented a memory.

A friendship .

A kindness .

A moment worth remembering.

When dawn arrived, the prince climbed the steps willingly.

Not because he desired death.

Because he believed memory could outlive mortality.

The vision vanished .

Silence followed .

Julie spoke first.

"That wasn't a story about sacrifice."

"It was a story about appreciating life," Laura said.

John nodded .

"Exactly. "

Tara wrote another page in her notebook.

"Important note: fruit is emotional."

Lala laughed so hard she nearly fell down the stairs.

День 4
Гильдия Ёжик в тумане

Пирамида задыхалась от аромата спелого копала и сока перезрелых плодов, пока Миктлантекутли ждал свою последнюю земную чашу.
Влажный воздух джунглей замер. Ночь перед великим равноденствием принадлежала не живым и не мёртвым, а тому тонкому зазору между ними, который ацтеки называли временем договора. На вершине каменного колосса, покрытого седым мхом, горели костры. Город внизу пел, бил в барабаны из кожи ягуара и пил хмельную октли, празднуя триумф уходящего лета. Но здесь, на ступенях алтаря, царила абсолютная, звенящая тишина.

Ишчель стояла перед огромным каменным изваянием Владыки Костей. Его глазницы, инкрустированные сверкающим пиритом, казалось, следили за каждым её выдохом. Он не внушал того дикого, парализующего ужаса, о котором шептались чужеземцы. Божество требовало иного — предельной ясности ума и глубокого, осознанного уважения к закону вселенной.
В руках девушки покоилась тяжёлая глиняная чаша, до краёв наполненная плодами: спелая питайя, чья огненно-розовая кожа была надрезана, обнажая белую мякоть с чёрными семенами — символ звёздного неба над подземным миром. Дикое авокадо, маслянистое и тёмное, как плодородная земля, забирающая в себя павших. Золотистое гуаяба, источающее приторно-сладкий аромат, способный пробиться сквозь холод могильной сырости.
Она опустила чашу на гладкий обсидиановый монолит алтаря. Сочные, согретые дневным солнцем фрукты выглядели чужеродно среди черепов и резных костей. Но в этом и заключался смысл. Живой сок, сладость и земное тепло — это была чистая, концентрированная жизнь, добровольно отданная той стороне. Мёртвые не могут вкусить плоть, но они питаются памятью и ароматом подношения.
Для Ишчель этот праздник был особенным. На рассвете, когда первые лучи солнца рассекут туман над сельвой, её кровь окропит эти камни. Она не была рабыней или пленницей; её выбрали за чистоту сердца, и она приняла этот жребий ради того, чтобы джунгли продолжали цвести, а дожди вовремя питали маис.

Она прикоснулась тонкими пальцами к прохладному боку чаши, безмолвно обращаясь к Владыке: «Возьми этот вкус, пока он принадлежит мне. Завтра я сама стану твоим гостем, и пусть эта чаша напомнит тебе о тепле, которое я принесла к твоим ногам».
Пламя костра дрогнуло. На мгновение Ишчель показалось, что каменный рот Миктлантекутли дрогнул в едва заметной, благосклонной улыбке, а аромат фруктов на алтаре стал ещё гуще. Договор был скреплён. Время снова начало свой ход, отсчитывая последние часы до её вечного триумфа.

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Уровень 238;  6b0f91

Jour 5 Gardien du chemin d’or
Guilde To the Manor Born
La pyramide noire de la douane des âmes dominait le néant, c’est là que Tom s’éveilla mort terrifié par les ténèbres absolue qui l’entouraient, soudain une lueur perça le noir, le chien d’or gardien légendaire sculpté au fronton du monument prit vie, sa fourrure de lumière pure balaya l’obscurité offrant une protection immédiate contre les esprits rôdeurs. Le chien entama sa marche à travers les couloirs piégés de la pyramide. Tom le suivit sur ce dernier chemin, des voix issues du vide tentèrent d’égarer le défunt lui murmurant des désirs de vengeance mais le chien d’or grogna doucement, son flair spirituel était infaillible il ne se trompait jamais de direction ni de vérité. Au sommet le gardien poussa une porte de bronze ouvrant sur un ciel étoilé et paisible, libéré de ses peurs Tom franchit le seuil, sa mission accomplie le chien d’or redescendit vers l’entrée pour se figer à nouveau dans la pierre immuable repère pour la prochaine âme perdue.
Merci 🥰

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