Posted by: Pan - 02-27-2019, 10:38 AM - Forum: Archives
- Replies (6)
Pan
Pan was tired from running, the visions of murder dancing in his head. He’d run away when they’d asked for others to step up and help, not sure of where he could truly add value. The adults talked over him with a plan of action, and Pan could do little more than stand and gawk at the bodies. There is a shame that washes over him at the thought of his own inadequacy, for the boy had always talked a big talk… but when push came to shove, Pan was a difficult type to keep a level head under pressure.
And so, he’d run from that place, too scared to stick around even within Delumine, the place which was his home. He’d gone to his cave, afraid to step inside but more afraid to return to its dark corners alone. As he stood among his treasures, the boy had picked only his favorites – Oriens’ shell, a brilliantly white feather which Cirrus had dropped, a mysterious vial of stardust liquid, the pirate coin he’d offered once to Somnus, his thick tome on healing plants and the small collection of the plants he’d harvested. The rest, he could not carry. Pan spared only one forlorn look back at his belongings before leaving the cave behind, his satchel weighing heavily against him.
And so, the boy finds himself drawn to the sea cliffs again – his chest tight as he struggles to breathe a ragged breath to quiet his beating heart. Tears sting at his eyes and flow freely down his face, even as the boy beds down in a soft patch of long grasses, tucking his prized possessions beneath his leg as he looks out to the roaring sea. There, they would find him – scared and alone, with nowhere in the world to go. For Pan would always find his way back to the water’s edge, in some way or another, like a moth to a flame. And as he waits for what comes next, the boy weeps bitterly in silence.
For once he does not let the anchor of his duty keep him home; for once he closes his thoughts even to Cirrus and ranges out, alone, the way he once used to every night.
Once such solitude had only given him time to tell himself stories of all the deeds he would accomplish, and an aching-sweet kind of loneliness, the kind that came always with youth and folly. Now it grants him a kind of peace, and for that he is grateful.
He had not expected to come across anything strange; only himself and the sky spread above him, a map of stars he has once more learned to read. But it is daylight still, daylight that makes bare the trail before him of broken and dead things, blackened by some unknown touch. Asterion shivers in the summer light, and pauses to trace his muzzle just above clover like ash, and then continues.
Now he is hunting, too.
Even so he does not expect the pool. Does not expect the brightness of it that sings against his eyelids even when he closes them tight; does not expect the firebirds that arc overhead and sing like no other creatures he knows. Most of all he does not expect the way that this strange pool reacts to him - not to his water-magic, but to something like his blood.
When he tries to shape it, tries to raise it, it seems to laugh at him and spill away as through his fingers - but even so it is laughing I know you, I know you. The mystery is enough to make him draw nearer yet -
and that is when he sees the girl.
She breaks from the golden pool like a new god birthed of ichor, dark crimson with the wet; he recognizes her at once from the meeting, but it is that deeper recognition - the lightning stripe that cleaves her narrow face, the scythe of her tail - that has him catch his breath and hold it. I know you, I know you, sings his blood like the water, but Asterion will not go in.
He has heard enough tales of the riftlands, and he has always listened to those well.
Be careful! he wants to cry, but what harm there may be has surely already been done, and he remembers the way she had looked at him, at the meeting. Like he was no stranger but an enemy.
And so he says nothing, and only watches, and disobeys the way the water begs him just to touch, just to taste.
king of dusk.
@Thana | notes: a response to her random event post
Ulric requested (or was it a demand?) traveling in groups no smaller than three. But it was just before dawn, the best time for a flight, and the rest of the court was tangled in dreams. Anyway he was untouchable in the air, at least in Delumine. There were no Solterran teryrs here and no resident dragon for at least the past hundred years. More importantly he was fast and nimble and could outfly damn near anything with wings.
Luckily for him, he's never had to put his money where his mouth is.
So Mateo leaves on his own. He spreads his large wings and soars up and up in ever larger spirals. Dawn creeps into the eastern sky with a bruised blush. It is his favorite hour, and as the sun opens its eyes Mateo is gliding peacefully into the new day. Novus unfolds beneath him beautifully.
Somewhere below, a dark figure moves across the plains towards the forest.
Maybe he should alert the regime (are they even awake yet?) but then he'd lose track of the stranger. He circles overhead one, twice, deliberating what to do. Then he gently glides down to earth.
He lands at the outskirts of the forest and catches up to the dark stranger in a few long strides. "Hello!" He should probably, definitely be a little more wary of strangers, but here is his logic-- it was a beast that killed and ate those poor men, not a horse. The proof was in the footprints. And what's more, it simply is not in his nature to be suspicious. He hasn't yet learned how trust can be used to wound more surely than a blade. Mateo stops her because be's concerned for her, not by her. "Haven't you heard? There's a murderer on the loose. Its best not to travel alone, specially in the forest." He straightens his shoulders, tucks his large wings at his sides, and tries to look as regal as he can. It is no easy task, for the stallion has a youthful softness to him that did not want to be hardened into something serious. "I'll escort you," he offers graciously. "Now... where exactly are you going?"
he is not particularly surprised that this is the place Bexley chose to settle. Where else for a lion-hearted bitch?
On each side tower walls of horizontally striated red and gold; Angharad thinks she sees the imprints of bones once or twice, fossilized in between layers of old stone; she catches sight of a small, flat-toothed skull bleached white by eons of sun; overhead the sun simmers even against the cold bite of an autumn breeze and an opalescent shield of clouds, and oh, if Angharad only knew what waited to be found in the capitol.
But she is only a girl, and a stranger at that, so terribly outcast she has not even quite heard of Solterra’s turmoil. She hears only the nagging voice in the back of her head: find her, find her.
Cervine and dark and showered in pale red dust from the bottom of the earth, Angharad winds her way through the corridors of Elatus with an uneducated sense of purpose. She does not know any better way to spend her time than searching every corner of the world for her cowardly niece. So this is what she does - scours every square inch with those Briar-blue eyes, ignoring the dull ache pitted against her leg, and tries to imagine she is being something useful.
From above, or from far away, it would be easy to think Angharad belongs here. The fawn of her skin melts in easily with the sand. The gold strung around her horns and ankle is so common it might have been forged in a Solterran shop. The dark, sweet stripes that strike her body are that of a well-camouflaged desert predator.
But then you see how the bones in the canyon shudder and creak as she walks past them, and how stubby, underwatered plants spring back to life, and think that if she were from here, there would already be stories about it.
All the dead Abel had seen, all those countless muddy bodies, had not been so visceral as this. The drowned might well have been sleeping, but for soaking hair and empty eyes, peaceful as Ophelia as she drifted between the banks.
Not so the maze.
That had been a butchering, a slaying by a lion’s jaws. The blood had been abundant on Raum and the dead man and on the unicorn queen, too, and in the work that had followed Abel had been spattered and streaked with it like new and savage art.
It had taken so very long to wash off.
Now he blinks against the low glare of the sun, and when he closes his eyes it still shines crimson through the butterfly-thin of his lids. It is strange to him that he can be so much further from the sun, here in the flat dead-desert heat of Solterra, and yet the heat here is simmering, far beyond the Arma’s autumn coolness. Already he misses the mountains, the way they framed everything, the way he never lost his sense of direction between their sharp rise and the gleam of the sea.
Everything here looks the same. But it is not an easy, safe sameness; it grinds at him like sand beneath his eyelids, like the sand he licks now off of his teeth. Abel has been scouting, familiarizing himself with this hot and empty land, has been eavesdropping. But now he is weary, and his coat is slick with sweat and wind-flung sand, and he is thirsty. A few others are around, here on the outskirts of the city, but they all watch him like vipers, though they have no reason to suspect such a lean and dead-eyed boy of anything.
Solterra had its orphans, too.
Anyway, he does not blame them for their distrust, their jackal’s suspicion. Abel is a doubter, too.
Still, when he sees a girl not far off from his own age he shifts his path to cut off her own, and stops her with a low nicker. For a moment he regards her, but he does not note the way her eyes are as dead-dull empty as his own. Light shifts through the clear faint blue of her horn but to him it is only something more to splinter the sunlight to pierce him. Abel does not like being drug out into the light.
“Where can I find water?” he asks her, and for all his love of Denocte and her changing mountains and changing sea his expression far more recalls the Moors: flat and endless and devoid.
With the posted decree written by Ipomoea, Somnus had no doubt that the Court would have their plethora of questions. He would be foolish to think otherwise, and he had every intention on answering anything that they tossed his way… But the Dawn King had his own list of concerns that needed to be brought to the attention of his Regime and his Warden, for reasons that were far closer to home. The encounter with Sloane in the library was disconcerting, and then the murders within Viride… His gut churned, and Somnus knew that if he were able to, he would be sick.
Still, he masked his uneasiness and nodded his head gratefully at the assistants that had helped put together a small little brunch. It was nothing fancy; some pastries and biscuits, tea, and coffee. Already his eyes sought out the kettle of coffee, the small pot of cream, and the cubes of sugar resting upon the table. Goodness, but he would need so much caffeine to get through the remainder of the day… Or, perhaps, even the season.
As the assistants were leaving, Somnus beckoned one to stay for a moment. “Please seek out Ipomoea, Pavetta, and Ulric. Tell them to come here as quickly as possible if they can spare the time.” The assistant nodded his head and left the room, off to search for the Regent, Emissary, and Warden. Silence wrapped around the room, seeming to drown the dunalino in its unending depth, but he did not speak to attempt to dispel it. Instead he remained still, letting his eyes fall closed, trying to wrap his head around what the world has become.
Discourse in the east and south, tragedy within their very own borders… What were they to do? What route should they take? It was hard to say, and nearly impossible. Regardless, all Somnus could do was take what they had been given and do what he could to keep their homeland safe.
Inevitably, they arrived. Verdant eyes glanced up to the door as they filtered into the small impromptu meeting room, and he smiled. His gaze roamed across each of them, searching for injury or weariness, and while he could spot the effects of the recent developments on each of them in different ways, they did not appear to be harmed. Thank Oriens.
“Come in, please. Po, Pavetta, Ulric… I think it is far overdue for us to have a little chat.” With a tired smile he motioned down to the meager spread of snacks and drinks. “It isn’t much, but I thought we could have something to eat and drink while we talked. I know that we have had a lot going on since the other evening, but I hope that I did not summon you all at a bad time.”
he owl would arrive in the early morning, when the first few rays of light are still struggling to pierce the sky. The dawn illuminates his wings until they appear molten, and he streaks into the Court on wings of gold.
He doesn’t yet know that it is the Emissary he will find, not the Sovereign.
But he perches on her windowsill and waits, holding in his beak a folded parchment sealed with red wax bearing the Delumine seal.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Isra, Queen of Denocte,
The last time we spoke, you had been newly appointed as Queen of Denocte and both of our countries had been through unspeakable turmoil. I hope this letter finds you in a better state than when I left you.
Unfortunately, things seem to have gotten worse here in Delumine. I hope no one is planning a trip to see the poppy fields, as our borders have been closed. A pair of gruesome murders has been committed in our country, seemingly by a strange beast the likes of which we have never seen before. I fear they will not be the last.
I’m writing this letter because I know you as a storyteller, with wisdom unrivaled. It seems we are no closer to finding our culprit than we were on the night of the murders; but I implore you to help us, your friends, attempt to unravel this mystery. All I ask is to pick your brain.
In your travels, have you heard of a beast that lurks in the night and gorges itself on the flesh of man?
And if you don’t have an answer, I beg you: send me back some good news, if you can. Dawn Court is in need of a story with a happy ending.
’You’re certain? Did you forget the backlash from Denocte when they closed their borders?’
Somnus let out a deep, patient breath at Alba’s inquiry. Oh, he had not forgotten the uproar from Denocte back under the leadership of Reichenbach seasons prior when they had closed the gates to the Night Court, but that was then and this was now. This was for different reasons. He was not a foolish man and this decision was not meant to be a brash one, but in light of recent unsettling events across Novus, they could not take any unnecessary risks.
“We have no choice, Alba. You know that.” Verdant eyes flicked upward, glancing only momentarily towards the barn owl roosting upon the courtyard walls amidst growing ivy and late-autumn blooms. “And it is far too late to be changing our minds. Ipomoea has already posted the decree. The deed is done.” Somnus then turned back to face the rest of the courtyard, sucking in yet another deep breath, praying to Oriens for the patience and diplomatic skill he would need for what he was about to do.
Nodding once, the Dawn King spoke again to his companion. “Go. Summon them. Hurry, Alba.”
The barn owl lingered for only the briefest of moments, her beady black eyes staring hard at Somnus’ regal golden frame glinting in the evening sunlight, before she took to the air with a flourish of mottled wings, downy feathers, and a mighty cry. She knew the importance of what was to follow.
Waiting patiently within the courtyard, Somnus watched as one by one, the members of the Dawn Court slowly began to arrive. He recognized them all. While he did not know some as well as he knew others, the dunalino did his best to familiarize himself with everyone that called Delumine their home. Watching them all arrive now, he was reminded once more of their thin numbers and empty ranks. Their numbers had never been particularly large, not when compared to the militarized empire that was Solterra, but Somnus cared little for numbers. Numbers meant nothing when fealty was frail among the people.
As the cool autumn breeze carried itself along the evening air and the citizens of the Dawn Court gathered and shifted, looking among one another and to him, he nodded once more. Guide me, oh wise Oriens. I only want to keep them safe.
“Thank you all for coming in such short notice. I apologize if this is an inconvenience to anyone.” The Dawn King’s verdant gaze darted across those present, keeping his shoulders back, head high, and ears forward and alert. The stallion’s rigid posture assisted in maintaining that confidence he needed for a meeting such as this one. “I will not waste your time; I am certain that everyone has seen the decree posted by Ipomoea. I want to touch more on this, as well as the recent discoveries.”
A quick glance to Delumine’s Regent and another small dip of the head in acknowledgement, and Somnus was going on, his accent calm and poised. “By now surely all of you know, there was an attack in Viride and we lost two of our own; Moore and Casper, loyal, kind pages of our very court. We have yet to find the one responsible, but know that we are all doing what we can to find their killer and bring them to justice.”
“I am not ruling out foul play. There were tracks at the scene that seemed far too large and misshapen to be equine, but we cannot put the blame on some beast. It could be a trick, or someone trying to cover their tracks. It is because of this that I have decided to close the borders of the Dawn Court.” Somnus grew quiet, letting the murmur of voices grow across the silence. He let them all think on it, come to their own conclusions, and form their own questions. He had nothing to hide, nor was he trying to be a dictator. “I am certain that you all have your concerns and questions. Please, ask. Ipomoea, Pavetta, Ulric, and I will do all that we can to answer them. Also know that should you need to leave Delumine for any reason, we ask that you consult with the Regime or Warden first. I simply implore you all to check in; we have already lost two of our own. I cannot stomach to lose another.”
Oh, but he wished that was all. It wasn’t.
“The one known as Raum is outlawed from Delumine for crimes committed against Denocte, a nation we are attempting to negotiate trade and alliance with. If he or his ilk are found within our province then they are to be detained immediately.. Any unwarranted aggression on their part is to be returned in kind. Take caution. Do not engage with him if you feel that you are unprepared, and instead report the sighting to any of the Council.” Once more, Somnus let his words trail off. It seemed like so much to say, but it needed to be said. His people needed to be aware of what was going on, and not just inside Delumine.
“I ask Ulric to up the patrols in Viride. Even those of you who are not warriors, I implore you to participate in keeping our home safe, but do not go alone. We must think of our safety first.” His current piece said and done, Somnus finally grew completely quiet, looking out among the familiar faces of the Dawn Court to take in their reactions, physical or verbal. He prayed that they would all understand.
“If you have any questions, please, feel free to ask… But also speak up, if you have any information you feel is useful to us.”
tag:
This meeting is for Dawn Court members only. Visiting dignitaries (such as the medical group from Terrastella) are allowed to post. This is not a mandatory meeting, but it is highly encouraged.
The hour is early when the elk with winter storms dying in their bones stumble into the canyon. Their bones are as brittle as icicles and their antlers are as delicate as weapons made of snowflakes are oft to be. In each of their chests there is something melting and their lungs breathe in and out with bitter cold instead of bitter fury.
They are dying, this herd of elk. They are dying.
They have all begun to think (as wild animals think) that their existence is suspect. They think like beasts brought by gods should think, and that is as a hive, as one. A doe thinks the same thing as a stag, and their child thinks the same thing as the parents. And all they think of with each mirror breath is that the sun feels a little too hot on their skin as it rises above them, made sickle like a scythe by a black cloud of dust.
Perhaps that is why the beast found them, huddled together into one single mass like lambs bleating and begging for the slaughter. However he found them doesn't matter because in the end he licks the air with his tongue and his hunger starts to ache in his chest when he feels sweet, cool winter on his beak instead of hot, desert sand.
But it's not flesh or blood or ice that he wants to feed on. He wants stone, an army of stone sentries in which he might play god. And so he reveals himself to the hive of winter elk, and because they are all one, they all look in his direction like a hundred leaves turning their faces towards the rain. They all feel their agonies the same too. The way each organ turns to stone inch by inch, and each muscle spasms as the meat around it hardens.
The eyes are the last to go, only because they all look at him and he wants to watch the moment a hundred lives snuff out all at once. Finally they all fade in one slow, slow blink and the winter storms in their chests are dead, dead, dead.
He has his menagerie of stone elk and he beds himself down in the middle of his herd to dream the ancient dreams of beasts when they are satiated.
--------------
The hour is high-noon and the sun is no longer a scythe whetted by a dust-cloud but an orb, a ball of fire that promises to drink deep of all the water in the world. When he opens his eyes the shadows of his herd stretch low beneath a hundred bellies made of stone, full of stone. He is hungry again and already his collection seems tiny and small compared to the canyons gaping around him like the mouth of the great monster god.
He, Legion, feels blessed then when the sand in the distance billows up in a small cloud that suggests a single thing has come to see how lovely his army of stone is. And so he waits, watching from those low stone-belly shadows, as the cloud comes closer, and closer, and closer.
Oh, won't you come even closer! He begs silently (monster to monster), because his beak and his tongue are made too close to god to tangle itself around the language of horses. And maybe as the shadows shift a little in a cloud it seems as if all the stone elk are starting to whisper words that pour from their frozen lips like dust and darkness.
He waits and waits and waits That small cloud of dust comes closer and closer and closer.
The moment the dust cloud comes close enough to clog whatever hole is left in the lead elk's stone head Legion rises up from the center of his collection. His tail smacks against the dirt and the elk at his side disintegrate into piles of dust that rise up around him like spirits let loose from the bowels of the desert.
And in that cloud of dead-elk dust he lunges for the white horse who has appeared in his own cloud of red-desert dust.
@Raum, on his way back from the battlefield, might see ahead a mass of dark shapes that looks so very out of place against the red, canyon stone. When he's close enough he will see that it's not a mass of shapeless darkness, but a hundred winter-elks turned to black stone. Maybe it's the voice that rings in his head, saying 'closer, closer, closer, come closer' that makes him take that final step towards the dead herd.
Suddenly, Legion the Basilisk lunges and the battle is waged. Hopefully Raum knows enough about ancient beasts to avoid looking Legion directly in the eye.
Thread requirements: 1 reply, 500 words. Please tag the RE account in your reply.
How to tag this account: @*'Random Events' without the asterisk!
Once you respond, you may begin including Pomona in your IC posts.
he quill floated across the page, leaving elegant lines of ink in its wake. Each letter was crafted painstakingly slowly, and with great care: as if Ipomoea was second-guessing every word. But at long last, it was done.
The Regent set the quill aside, blowing gently across the page to dry the ink. Seemingly satisfied with his work, he called the page attending him forward. Together they heated a small amount of wax onto the parchment, into which Ipomoea pressed the official seal of Delumine.
“Post this in the square,” Ipomoea commanded the youth. “And help spread the word around the Court.”
The page nodded, then hurried off with the letter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Citizens of Delumine:
It is with a heavy heart that I write this announcement. There has been a tragedy - two tragedies - committed within our Court. The pages you knew as Casper and Moore were brutally murdered within the Viride Forest, seemingly by a beast of unknown origin.
If you have any knowledge to share about this event, please come forward. There is a signos award for any information you can provide.
King Somnus has decreed that the borders of Delumine be shut until we can sort out this unspeakable tragedy. Until futher notice, no outsiders will be permitted entry into the Court. We strongly recommend citizens to remain inside the Court proper where it is safe; the Regime will provide housing and other assistance to any in need.
We strongly urge you to stay out of the Forest until we know what we are dealing with.
Again, if you have any information or concerns to share with the Regime, do not hesitate. Time is of the utmost importance.
Please pass this message on to any who have not the means to read it for themselves. King Somnus will call a meeting at noon tomorrow to discuss these events and answer any questions.
Thank you - and stay safe.
Signed,
Ipomoea
Regent of the Dawn Court
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Citizens of the Dawn Court! This is an official message from your Sovereign and Regent!
In light of the recent murders, (found here!) King Somnus has closed Delumine’s borders. Outsiders are not permitted entry into the Court unless they were already inside at the time of this thread! Any outsiders that do venture into the Court may have their threads interrupted at any time by a Dawn Court member - even if the thread is marked as private!
Along those lines, Delumine citizens are allowed to leave of their own volition - although it is not recommend for… reasons. But if you want to post your character outside of Dawn, that’s okay!
In addition, there are a few rewards you can gain from this current event. Continue reading to see how you can participate!
Start a new thread in Viride Forest: +50 signos. Can be claimed three times, for a max of three started threads.
Reply to a new thread started in Viride: +20 signos. Can be claimed three times, for a max of three new replies.
Complete a thread in Viride: +2 EXP as participation in an IC event. Can be claimed once.
ALL new threads must have been made on or after 02/04, when the RE was posted, to count for any of these bonuses! Replies must have been made in threads that were made on or after this date, as well. There is no end yet! C:
To redeem any of these incentives, reply to this thread! Please specify what you are redeeming, the reward, and provide proof in the form of links.
*You cannot claim replies to “Something Evil This Way Comes” for these bonuses, sorry! They must be in new threads made after the RE was posted.
**In addition to earning these bonuses, new threads may qualify for special RE replies.... c;
There’s more to come in this saga, so stay tuned!
Contact @sid or @Sparrow if you have any questions!
