There’s a murmur of magic in the air, tenuous and strange. It whispers its message into every ear, calling equine and beast alike, calling all of Novus forward to explore deeper into this strange, new world. It sings a sweet, enchanting song: like a siren luring sailors to their death, like a predator dazzlings their prey with its beauty. Everything on the island is vibrant and lovely and mysterious, drawing in the horses as moths to a flame.
From the air to the pearly white sand, the tree tops to the iridescent waves thrashing on the beach. The whole place thrums with an energy that is nearly palpable, an undercurrent that inhales and exhales, tenses and relaxes in tandem.
Almost as if the island were alive. Almost as if the island is begging someone to explore it, to uncover the secret it no longer has the strength to hide.
And perhaps it is - perhaps the island is some great beast, one buried by sand and stone. Perhaps some creature dwells in the center and makes up the heart of the island, with tree roots for veins that anchor all the vegetation in place, and without it the island might break apart and tumble into the ocean. But that’s a tale to be told around bonfires at night, surely there’s no truth to it.
And yet there’s something irresistible and dangerous about the island and the way it calls each horse forward. As if a switch has been flipped, as if the magic lying dormant in Novus has finally awoken. It hums like a beetle in the back of the mind, an ever-present disturbance that grows increasingly stronger the longer it is resisted.
---
It beckons a youth, a mere yearling from the Dawn Court to come explore, to come and see the wonder for yourself. There are secrets to be found it promises, power to gain, beauty to marvel at. Come… Across the lava bridge he goes, past the rearing unicorn statue with its dark horn piercing the sky, and onto the sandy beach where the trees shiver nearby.
They whisper to him, the same way in which the magic hums in his veins: their words are unintelligible yet their meaning unmistakable. Come closer. The branches reach out like arms, their leaves tugging at his flesh. I know what you seek.
And the deeper that first horse ventured, the clearer it became. Soon enough, the wind that snakes its way through the forest canopy is winding its way into his very soul.
Time, it says. He is Here.
All at once his eyes widen, and understanding dawns. For a moment he’s caught in indecision - but the magic has taken hold of him now, it moves on its own accord through his body, and he is a mere vessel for its will. He turns and flees back the way he’d come, retracing his footsteps back to the beach. The forest is alive with the thunder of his echoing hooves now, as he races the wind itself.
It is only when he reaches the unicorn statue that he finally stops, that he tears the note hanging from its neck and scrawls upon it, adding to the two lines already recorded there:
Time is Free.
Time is Here.
TEMPUS
It is the only hint he can give before he collapses, falling into a deep sleep at the unicorn’s feet. When he awakes all memory of the whispering trees will be gone, and he will not be able to say why he wrote the note or how he came to be on the island. He’ll only look upon his handwriting and frown, and hope another will be able to decipher the tale.
And decipher it they will. The god’s name is the missing link, magic the key to unlocking the secret. The rumor will spread like wildfire, from the mouths of those who have witnessed the deity’s work before. Last time it was carried by a shaman, they tell the others, he gave his power to only one. Now he’s come again.
And then they look at each other furtively, as if wondering which of them the god of Time would bless.
All across the island the news is spread, the news that a Relic lost through the years has returned. Each horse tells a different tale of how it was lost, each has a new idea for why it’s come again. Yet they all agree on one seemingly factual piece:
He is Here.
His Relic is on the island.
A frenzy begins soon after, a hunt to be the one to find the immortal artifact. And the trees seem to smile, as they once again invite the horses deeper into the island.
Each character may reply to this post only one time. Rolls will be done and a staff edit will be posted at the end of each reply with Random Event results. You are more than welcome, and encouraged, to branch off into individual threads to interact with other characters. You may respond to the characters before you or your reply could be set at a different moment in time (this is totally up to you).
If you reply to this thread, it gives you +1 post in an SWP.
All replies after June 28th, 2019 will not be considered for a RE roll. This has been extended until July 20th.
Possible rolls and their rewards are as follows.
1: +1EXP point
2: 100 signos
3: 125 signos
4: 150 signos
5: 200 signos
6: The wind whispers to you, drawing you into the forest, where a golden leaf flutters around you... You are guaranteed a Random Event encounter in 1 Relic Hunt thread! @sid will contact you with instructions as to how to redeem this. If this remains unredeemed, you may use it in Act VI.
To tag this account: @*'Random Events' without the asterisk.
Please be advised, tagging the Random Event account does not guarantee a response!
It reminds him of Florentine, and her dagger that can cut into the hearts of new worlds; she had asked him to see a world with her not long ago, when they stood beneath the ruined trees of Viride and Po had grown a small meadow of flowers. It hadn’t been the time then, there had been too many conflicts that he couldn’t abandon, yet he agreed nonetheless.
Has that time come? he finds himself wondering now, as the shadows of the forest close in around him. Is this world like others she’s seen?
He wishes she were here now; Ipomoea has so many questions burning inside of him, begging for answers. Yet all he can do is wander amongst the trees, all he can do is watch and listen and wait -
- a colt goes flying past him, kicking up sand and leaves in his wake.
For a moment Ipomoea watches after him, stunned. He half expected a creature to come flying out from between the trees in pursuit, and yet all around him the world was still, save for the muted thunder of hooves racing towards the beach.
He turns and peers into the vegetation. A pair of cerulean eyes peer back at him, as a strange bird tilts its head and clacks its beak, gesturing in the direction the horse had gone.
Silently, Ipomoea turns and follows at a brisk trot, following the torn up trail the colt had left in his wake.
A few others have already gathered back at the beach by the time Ipomoea arrives, surrounding the now-familiar unicorn statue and the colt, now slumped at the statue’s feet. Their murmurs draw him in closer among their ranks, straining his ears to listen…
Tempus. The Relic.
He jerks his head up, tasting the wind coming off the ocean. He remembers the last time the Relic had appeared - he had been just a boy still, and the merchants he traveled with told him he was lucky to have been around for the hunt. The Relic is rare, they had told him, you’ll likely only see its appearance once in your lifetime…
And yet here it was again - supposedly. His blood is racing, singing sweetly in his ears, and for a moment all he can see is green, the green of the ivy from the bridge, so similar to the green of that long-ago maze that he wonders now how he had missed the connection. The Relic is back.
Even as others move around him he is still, eyes trained upon the unicorn. He creeps closer now, as if hoping the statue might hold another clue.
kind of crappy reply, feel free to include po in your posts!
”here am i!“
STAFF EDIT***
@ipomoea has rolled a 4! He has been awarded +150 signos.
06-08-2019, 12:39 PM
Played by
Dyzzie [PM] Posts: 214 — Threads: 26 Signos: 260
Below Zero
my frost philosophy will put no curse on me
She hadn't been there when the note had first been found, when the yearling had risen from slumber to remember nothing. She'd been nowhere near the island that seemed to take up so much of her thought processing lately. She did, however, hear the whispering, the rumors; the words spread from muzzle to muzzle of some Relic on the island, of some God being there. No, not some God. Time himself. Bel walked towards the statue, not sure what to think, what to make of the switch in stories, the switch in what the island was. Her uncertainty suddenly made more sense to her. Her feeling of there being secrets (hiding a God's Relic in it's brush certainly counted for such, did it not?). She couldn't imagine what any of it might really mean . . . she was still to new to Novus to know the lore of the Gods (or was it History) well.
Approaching the statue her eyes settled on the note, at the extra scrawled word and her muzzle wrinkled, before her gaze turned towards the taunting island's center once more. Wind rushed past her, and her finned ears ruffled even as the rest of her body held still - not even her tail moved. The aquatic mare didn't know what it meant, but she could feel the shift in the air, like the island was pleased with itself? She didn't dare assume what the feeling might truly be, but she knew one thing . . . She would be back, she would search high and low. Not perhaps for the relic itself. She didn't know for certain what it even was.
But she would search for the secrets, for the truths, for what this island was still trying to hide. Briefly she pondered on having to let her Triton know she might be MIA from Terrastella for a while. The one time she'd ventured far away from the island, a new startling revelation was made. And Bel would not rest until she fully figured out this island, to fully understand why it made her pelt stand on in, and her fins prickle . . . . Asterion should surely understand . . . maybe.
Thoughts Speech
@’Random Events’
i feel no cold, i feel no fear inside my mind Now I'm full of energy
STAFF EDIT***
@Below Zero has rolled a 2! She has been awarded +100 signos.
The more time Corrdelia spent on this island, the more mysterious it became. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before and felt like they had walked directly into the Dreamworld.
For once, even Hāsta was intrigued and stopped her grumbling for now. It seemed she too was in awe of the island's beauty and the desire to find out more. In the back of their minds still, they wondered if this was all a trap, but so far nothing had happened. There were many others they had bumped into on the island as well and they all seemed fine. Surely if there was some kind of danger here, they would have found it already? Time would tell.
And speaking of Time- there were rumors.
Corrdelia was still learning of the gods of Novus, but there were whisperings of one called Tempus, the founder of the land and god of Time, and that a message had appeared from him. There were also talks of a relic that was once lost and may have reappeared on this very island.
"Exploring this place is one thing, but searching after some item from a god… I don't know. I think that would definitely be putting us in danger. Plus, do you know how many greedy horses are out there? If the relic itself isn't dangerous, the ones hunting it will be," Hāsta lectured while flying above Corr's head. The mare decided not to fly across the island today and walk instead, but now she was wondering if the sky would give her a better view.
"Perhaps, but there's a lot of things about this that we both don't know." "That's exactly why I think it's a dumb idea."
Corr was not actually sure if she wanted to participate in this relic hunt. The idea of the relic interested her, but merely for knowledge. She was not interested in gaining any powers from something that came from a god. If anything, she would rather have the chance to speak to a god and learn their story. From what she heard, the Dawn Court had a gorgeous library within the woods, so perhaps she could take a visit and do some reading. That is, if their Court was not still on lockdown.
"Not to worry, you old bird. I'm not saying I won't ever search for the relic, but I'm not going to be as quick as others to go out looking. I want to do some reading first."
And there it was.
Corr stopped for a moment, looking on as the statue of the black unicorn stood a few lengths in front of them. It was much more impressive in person than it was described by others. She could see the note hanging from its neck, likely the riddle that started it all.
"So that's what everyone's talking about? Where did it come from?" the crow asked, landing on Corr's shoulder.
"Hard to say, but if this is all the work of a god, then ancient magic is at play."
The powers she had back home were no longer present, but she could still feel something in her gut. It felt distant, but it was enough to know that this island was alive and there was magic in the air.
When the pair came closer to the statue, Corr read the riddle. Somehow, it seemed more ominous. The need to learn more was growing stronger and the mare had a feeling that her time on the island may be drawing to a close… for now. Depending on what she may find in her research, it may bring her right back to the strange white shores.
As he wanders—nay, explores—the strange island beyond the maw of Here and There, he feels more and more unwound from time. More and more, he feels as if he is drifting, aimlessness beyond what he is used to—this is walking without thinking; staring a at a wide, night sky, and seeing the stars, but not understanding them. Not their odd, bright twinkle; nor their disorienting constellations. And when the sun rises, he cannot recognize east for west. Lost. But more than lost, he is outside of time and space entirely. What an utterly odd feeling, indeed. He had slipped past a juncture in the universe when that ivy wall had perished, leaving the rent in the fabric ripped open and reachable for all who dared. And dared they did, swelling through the passageway like water flowing into open spaces, as if by sheer physics.
How could they resist?
He wanders past bodies who wander past him as he lips strange flowers made of eyes, blinking eyelashes to the sun; birds made of fire and diamonds, eyes of opal and wings of bismuthinite. He traces the lapping, frothy shoreline, the cool, jewelled waters kissing his heels as he walks. How long had it been since he crossed over? Days? Moments? No… no, must have been days. Perhaps a small handful if he thinks back hard enough at the nights, which covered over like a thick, velvet blanket of back and blue. Yes. Yes.
Days. Keep it straight, old boy. You’re not going mad here, are you?
But… is that not a heartbeat he hears? Thrumming from the earth itself, pulsing up his legs and rattling his bones to shiftless sleep where still he dreams. Even in this world of reverie, still he dreams of queer, forest magic, of cackles and of rabbit’s fur flying in the nighttime air. Somethings js cannot be wandered from; some things just cannot be outpaced. Does it breathe below his hooves? The furling and unfurling of a great pair of basalt lungs, granite bones and earthen skin?
I am going mad—
And yet, it doesn’t bother him. He giggles and shakes his head, for he is loosed like an arrow from a quiver he cannot place until he is made to face it head-on. Upon the lips of everyone that shifts through the world—‘’Time is Free. Time is Here…’ it said something like that….’ ‘....Tempus, a relic…’—his brow furrows, and for the first time in days, he feels anchored. Grounded. He is no longer aimless as he makes pilgrimage to that statue to examine for himself the wellspring from which all the whispers come. He comes upon it surrounded by a quiet crowd of bystanders, and there is it again. Creature beseeching from a primal core—a preything’s nerves as his ruby eyes run again and again over the inscription, and he thinks to himself
O is too young to remember the witch Nimue and how she stole Tempus’ relic from the maze. It is before her time, before she was even born — but even if she does not remember, she knows. It is something in her as strong and confident as a creature instinct, like fear. She knows of the God’s power. Of the power of the relic. She knows that she cannot possibly be the only one that thinks Tempus when she hears the first story of the note and the unicorn, and she knows that it will take more than luck to find it before they do.
The island is beautiful, and dangerous. Like her. Like her mother. (And speaking of her mother, where had Bexley gone —? Sometimes O thinks that when Acton died, Bexley went with him —)
So she knows better, even her, small thing, than to trust any of it, even the pretty flowers unfurling toward the light, even the birds with their brimstone eyes. All the pretty things have the sharpest teeth. She is careful to keep her step to the marked path and not to let the foliage brush her. Careful not to linger too long when she eyes the island’s fruit longingly. But oh, it is difficult - O feels the desire to explore tugging at her chest like a magnet, and she has to grit her teeth to keep from reaching out and brushing her lips against the deep-red fruits, the lush green leaves that call to her like sirens. Sunlight dapples the sand and marbles her skin. Everything is cast in a pretty orange glow, kissed by a soft light like a god.
Don’t look, don’t want. But it is impossible.
More than anything there is a feral desire in her chest that begs stay here, look around, kiss the sand. O has not felt anything like it before.
Maybe this is love — a little poison in her chest that asks for too much and, in return, wants to kill her. Maybe that is what’s happened to her mother.
The statue is smooth obsidian rearing high into the air; O, as she stares up at it, can’t help but envy the sharpness of its horn. A thin clump of horses stand at varying distances, as if they are afraid of it. O is not. The promise of adventure makes her woefully (stupidly) brave. She sidles up close, her tiny hooves barely denting the sand, and reaches her head high, higher and higher until she is inches from the note, scrutinizing everything from the mismatched writing to the paper it’s printed on. Her heart thrums loudly in her narrow chest. The wind goes rushing past, ruffles the long silk-black of her hair.
O smiles, for she does not know how to be afraid.
And then she gives the statue a crisp nod and slinks past it into the depths of the jungle.
STAFF EDIT***
@Apolonia has rolled a 2! She has been awarded +100 signos.
And just as she was preparing to leave the island behind her, something beckons her to turn around and return. Already once again on the lava bridge, the mare halts. If there is something she has learned about this place, it is that magic seems to be around every corner. It pumps through the individuals, washes down the waterways, and is thrust into the very air they breathe. Magic is all around them and it is magic that draws them in.
Magic had never been something the mare was interested in. She didn’t need magic to make her point to the different people she mingled with. She didn’t need fancy powers or charms to woo people into submission. She had gotten along just fine with the gifts she had been born with and the wit she had learned.
But there is something here on this island that she finds curious. If it wasn’t the pull the magic had on her, then it was definitely the youngster running towards her at full speed. Once he stopped just feet from her, he looked disoriented, confused, unaware of what was happening. It was almost as if his body was possessed by something more. Curious.
Targwyn steps towards him, following the whispers of those gathered around him. Something about Tempus and Relics. She’s not been here long enough to remember when Tempus’ last visit was, but there is something about this chatter that she finds interesting. She believes this might be key to the power she’s hoping to unlock, to the chaos that she wants to starts. And so, she removes the mollusk shell from her small satchel and throws it to the ground. She was told it contains some magic of it’s own. Rising up on her hind quarters, the mare thrusts her weight to the ground, crushing the mollusk shell and releasing it’s power. And now she waits.
STAFF: Targwyn is using her mollusk shell that she won in Part II for an additional RE roll.
STAFF EDIT***
@Targwyn has rolled a 3! She has been awarded +125 signos.
STAFF EDIT***
@Targwyn has crushed the mollusk shell she was given in Act II, and has been granted an extra roll! She has rolled a a 2, and has been awarded an additional +100 signos.
There is anarchy and chaos stirring amongst the courts. So much has happened, so many left homeless, and so many lost their lives. All of these things bring pain and heartache to Katniss, they make her want to do better for herself, for Metaphor, for Denocte. She wishes that she could somehow slow down time, to reverse it even, so that no one had to suffer what they had. It all weighs heavily on the silver dapple black mare. It makes her hear heavy and it makes her eyes fill with tears for those that have lost everything.
She stands on the island recently uncovered, her eyes looking out at the beauty that surrounds her. And despite all this beauty, she doesn’t find it fair. Why could such a place of peace and tranquility be present when the rest of the courts are suffering? Magic has never made much sense to her, being a warrior born for a purpose. In her life, she did not rely on magic but on brute strength. But this island, this island was humming with magic. Even as she stands here in the quiet, she can feel the weight of the magic flowing beneath her.
She hears the rustle of leaves, the sound of feet pummeling the earth. Eyes look up and out of the trees flees a youngster, one she’s not yet seen before. He looks frightened and scared, running as if his life depended on it. But as he gets to the edge of the island, where the island meets the bridge, he stops. There are so many that gather around him, so many curious about the letter that he holds around his neck. Katniss is curious too, and so she joins the crowd.
She hears their whispers of a long-lost relic. Perhaps it is something that she can use to help her people, to bring justice to those that caused so much loss. She knows deep down what she must do. She must find this relic. She must win it all.
STAFF EDIT***
@Katniss has rolled a 2! She has been awarded +100 signos.
There is a crowd standing around an individual, they speak of Tempus and Relics, and of others things he cannot here. The boy who has written the letter looks confused and scared and it pulls at the paternal side of him. He can feel the boy’s fear and even though it is not a child of his own making, he feels some sort of responsibility towards him.
Slowly he steps through the crowd, pushing past those that are much taller and built far more sturdy than he is. He tries to get to the child, to place some sort of comfort on him. And only when he breaks through the crowd can he see just how truly scared the boy was. Rhone offers him a tender smile, a press of his nose against the boy’s shoulder. "It’s alright child, we are here to help." The boy looks somehow relieved, but only shows Rhone the letter. It means nothing to him. He knows nothing of relics or of Tempus. All he sees is a scared child looking for guidance.
Rhone steps back into the crowd, trying to let the others see the letter tied around the boy’s neck. He can feel the magic beneath his hooves and he knows this island is overflowing with magic and secrets. He wants to believe that his time uncovering truths has all but come and gone, and yet, he cannot help the way he stands there, hoping for more.
Perhaps the magic flowing beneath him is a sign that he needs to keep looking, to keep seeking out knowledge and figure out what the letter really means. As a scholar, he cannot help but want to understand and learn. As an older stallion who only came here to retire, he wants to run.
STAFF EDIT***
@Rhone has rolled a 3! He has been awarded +125 signos.
There is a gathering and he cannot help but remember how much he hates group gatherings. They are usually pressed up against one another, close enough to smell sex and sweat, and all other sorts of body odor. Saphrax hates the smell (unless it’s the smell of sex - he loves that smell, especially if it’s him who has caused it) and so he stands at the back of the crowd. Not to mention, standing in the crowd leads to things like ruffling of his feathers. He has spent too damn long today preening and making sure all his feathers are nothing short of perfect. Why would he go and mess up such perfection?
The crowd is gathered around a youngers with a note. It means nothing to the stallion and so he slips away. He doesn’t care about relics or tempus or anything else they might be discussing. The only thing that would get and keep his attention was if someone were to slink their way up to him and ask them to put a baby made of fire into their belly. Now that is something he could get on board with.
And so, the stallion leaves the gathering and travels away from the unicorn statue and away from the crowd. He struts (because that is a far sexier way to move than a waltz) into the forest, his head held erect, his wings laying softly against his side. While everyone was running towards the stranger with the note, he was heading into the jungle.
Surely there was magic back here. He could feel the flow of magic through each root. He needed this magic like a person needed air to breath. More magic meant more ways to impress women. More impressed women led to more sex in a forest such as this. And more sex led to offspring. Saphrax had always said his goal in life to was to repopulate it with his offspring. Perhaps this was the break he was looking for.
STAFF EDIT***
@saphrax has rolled a 4! He has been awarded +150 signos.
![[Image: i-jTNwWx8.png]](https://photos.smugmug.com/BelowZeroNovus/n-X9d9fZ/i-jTNwWx8/1/e09fb6c3/O/i-jTNwWx8.png)
