You told us to write something that happened to our character in our world since we won't be able to play any time soon. So, here goes.
Because Ale was from Earth, nothing out of the ordinary occurred. However, as Ale was reading The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King for the fifth time, there was a noise outside. The pages of his book were lit only by the small reading lamp to his right. His father and mother were asleep, as it was very late at night, but Ale was still up, unable to tear himself away from the novel. The noise grew louder, and began to sound in rhythms, like a large drum. Ale had never heard this sound before, and considering he was in the forest, this was highly unusual. There had never been any other inhabitants in this forest, at least to his knowledge. Because of the abnormality of the situation, Ale had decided to investigate. He closed the epic-fantasy novel with a resounding thud and placed it upon his carved nightstand. With stealthy footsteps, he sneaked downstairs and moved past his parents' bed. This was a small home, being made entirely of wood, which made stealthy navigation difficult, but, thankfully, his mother was a heavy sleeper, and his father was exhausted from a good day of tracking that buck he had been trying to kill for two days.
Looking at the clock on his wall illuminated by the low fireplace, it was indeed very late in the night, being 3 AM. The witching hour? Ale thought to himself. I stayed up too long reading… Distracted by his own thoughts, he had forgotten why he even went downstairs in the first place. The return of the drumming sound, now growing louder but still a low hum in the distance reminded him of his decision. He returned to the mission at hand, pushing the door forward to travel outside. He felt the cool summer breeze against his skin, reminding him of his favorite season. The lighting was near-pitch black, only illuminated by the full moon in the sky. Ale allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness, taking a few moments until he began to see the treeline. His nightvision was up to par, and Ale himself would tell you it was better than his fathers, allowing him to see fairly clearly in the darkness. Nonetheless, he reached back inside to grab the old metal flashlight hanging from the wall. Returning to the outside world, he clicked the rubber button placed near the end of the flashlight, producing a satisfying clicking noise. The batteries inside the flashlight appeared to be still going strong, even after years of usage by the two hunters. The flashlight illuminated through the blue darkness, bringing an enhanced level of vision for Ale, better than his nightvision would treat him.
Before moving another step towards the treeline, Ale trained his ears to tune the source of the drums. They had stopped for a few minutes but began again shortly afterward.
Thud… Thud… Thud… . . . Thud… Thud… Thud… . . . Thud… Thud… Thud…
The sounds came in trios, pausing for three seconds before the next set of three. After three sets of three, the sounds appeared to stop for a full three minutes before beginning the sets again. Three? What's up with that number? Isn't that biblical or something? Ale didn't know much, being raised in the woods, but he was at least familiar with literature, including biblical motifs and themes. He decided to pursue the noises, walking forward, masking the sounds of the drums with his own footsteps in the grass. He trod lightly in order to pay attention to the drums, trying to scope out the direction which the music was coming from.
Ale traveled west of his home, walking three hundred feet through the trees. Before walking further, he noticed a shining object caught by the reflection from his flashlight. Aiming at the object in question, he noticed it was a mask pinned to a tree. The mask was reasonably minimal, only consisting of a white marbled surface and two slits for the eyes. Upon closer inspection, there appeared to a tribal pattern chiseled onto the surface of the mask, along with a protrusion for one's nose.
Though the surface appeared to be made of marble, a highly reflective material, the mask did not reflect all of the light given, instead absorbing part of it, as though it were made with some matte coating. As Ale grasped the mask, the noises grew louder, as if they were moving towards him. He began to feel fearful, which was abnormal for him, causing him to freeze. The drums grew in intensity, sounding as though they were directly behind him. Steeling his courage, Ale threw the direction of his flashlight behind him, illuminating the suspected noise. However, much to Ale's relief, there was nothing behind him but the same trees he had passed by. He sighed through ragged breath, a wave of reassurance coursing through him. The solace was shortly replaced with concern and confusion as he realized the noises had completely stopped. Ale took this moment to further inspect the mask, noting its subtle intricacies and symmetry. It appeared to be hand-chiseled, but to a degree of mechanical perfection. On the inside of the mask lied a felt surface colored in red. For some reason unknown to Ale, he felt compelled to put the mask on his face. It was difficult for him to resist the temptation, but he eventually fought the compelling urge, as he was familiar with the concept of curses and old wives' tales, and he did not wish to be cursed by some magical object.
He trekked back to his house, which was only a few hundred feet away, feeling accomplished with his feat of courage. As he opened to door to his home, the fire had been completely extinguished, prompting Ale to re-stoke the flame using his flashlight to see through the pitch-black darkness. His father and mother were thankfully still asleep. Ale stealthily moved back upstairs, which was illuminated by his reading lamp. He hung the mask on a nail against the wall, removing the photograph which resided previously there, placing it on his nightstand. He reopened his novel, deciding to at least finish the rest before sleeping. As he finished the last few pages, he went to turn off his lamp, but he noticed that the mask was no longer hung against the wall, instead residing on the nightstand in place of the photograph. Ale could have sworn he placed it against the wall. Pinning the disparity on his sleep deprivation, he simply moved the mask aside so he could turn off his lamp.
Ale had kept the mask in his rucksack ever since, never taking it out. He had never felt compelled to wear it again, but it always seemed to call to him, speaking his name three times. He never told his parents about this secret, opting to keep this to himself.