Because of the efforts made by the Dawn Court, the fire shrinks by the hour. Strips of blackened earth separate the capitol from the Viride forest, and the ground smolders and smokes underfoot. The air is still thick with the scent of burning wood, the skies darkened with grey - but for the time being, the world seems as though it is righting itself once more.
On the front lines, a figure can be seen stepping in and out amongst the flames, disappearing one moment only to reappear the next, dancing alongside the fire. He hides in the shadows the wildfire casts, but the sun inscribed upon his forehead has never seemed brighter. With every step he takes, another flame finds itself smothered into nonexistence, extinguished by the god of the dawn.
The sun rises on a new world, war-torn and ravaged, smoke curling through every corner of Delumine.
As the morning light shines upon the Dawn Court, Oriens leaves the burned forest behind him. It takes the better part of a day to reach the capitol - for he stops frequently, gathering new followers all along the way. He moves like a ghost, hardly seeming to breathe, never daring to speak, an air of mystery surrounding him. The very air thrums and cracks with energy that seems to be coming from the god himself - and also taking its toll. Oriens head hangs low, his shoulders stooped, his once brilliant mane and tail sooty with ash, his coat dull and lackluster. Only the sun upon his forehead continues to glow.
When he finally enters the courtyard of the castle, it seems a wonder he does not collapse in exhaustion.
“Dawn Court,” he calls out, but his voice is soft and dull. “Come, my children, gather.” He leaves it to the citizens to spread the word and come round. Time seems to pass agonizingly slowly as he waits for the Court to respond.
He will wait, as only one borne of Time itself can, for the Court of the Morning Sun to arrive.
Some guidelines:
- Please get your first replies in by Saturday, September 22nd. The RE will post again on Sunday the 23rd!
- No limit to replies, no strict order is enforced, but we ask that you be considerate towards others getting their own posts in!
- This is a group thread, try to interact with others! <3
- Have fun! Even if your character isn't c;
Oriens has arrived back to the Dawn Court after surveying the fires in Viride. Perhaps he has some information to share with you regarding the disasters?
To tag this account: @*'Random Events' without the asterisk.
Please be advised, tagging the Random Event account does not guarantee a response!
She seems him dancing in the fire and she is curious about him. He doesn’t seem burned by the flames in fact, he seems to extinguish them. She is perplexed by his abilities and so she hides in the shadows, watching his every move, contemplating who and what he is. She doesn’t know this land is filled with Gods, that there is a power here she doesn’t quite understand. She’s still learning about this place, even after being half-assed given directions. Clearly she has stumbled on a land torn by death and destruction, something that pulls the corner of her lips into a smile. This place doesn’t need her help and yet, she cannot help but stay. She wants to see how this plays out…for research’s sake.
And so, she follows him.
She watches the way he moves, the way his energy seems to weaken and yet, there is something glowing upon his forehead, something that never waivers. This is a strange finding, because she has never seen such a thing. And all throughout her travels, she’s seen a lot of strange things. She says nothing yet, simply following him as he enters the court – a place she’s been before.
She pauses when he does, her eyes studying him as he calls forth the Dawn Court. Was she really a part of the dawn court? Was this the name of this place? She’d been here for a little more than a week and she had yet to really meet another soul and inquire about the place she had been directed to. Perhaps this was the Dawn Court. But did she see herself as a true member? That was something else entirely. She had never truly seen herself as a productive member of society, so it did not surprise her that she felt home anywhere. In fact, being on the road seemed to be more her style anyway.
He calls his children and she is drawn to him by a force she cannot explain. She’s never been religious, never following a God or deity of any kind. And yet…she feels compelled to step out of the shadows. So with each tentative step, she keeps her eyes trained on the being. She stands away from him and yet, still visible. “You called?” She could easily stay without the shadows, assume no one even knew of her existence. And yet, it was curiosity that propelled her forward. Perhaps this being was going to be beneficial to her.
So when Oriens - if it really is Oriens, the patron deity of Delumine - passes through the Court like a silent ghost, Ipomoea finds his heart filled with doubt. But he follows alongside the crowd anyway, his curiosity getting the better of him once again.
'He doesn't look much like a god,' a small voice whispers at the back of his mind. 'He looks half a corpse.' The thoughts are intrusive and shameful - and they were not wrong, so far as he could see. Aside from the glowing sun on the equine's forehead, the light and light appeared to have been snuffed out of him. His head droops, eyes half-closed; his coat was dull and patchy, his tail falling out; and he walked at a listless and ambling pace. There was very little about him that inspired awe or admiration or piety.
But his strange presence and stranger appearance still managed to draw quite the crowd. And Ipomoea is among that crowd, feeling half a child again when he's swallowed by the fray. He makes no attempt to force himself to the front and center, but rather remains on the outskirts.
And it is there that he waits, listening to the murmur of the crowd around him. Already one mare, her face still new to him, has spoken up - but Po himself would hold his tongue. For now.
hearts are breaking
wars are raging on
you’ve got me nervous
i’m at the end of my rope
hey, man, we can’t all be like you
i wish we were all rose-colored too
my rose-colored boy
The eyes of the warrior are dull save for the last shimmer of determination, fueled by the willingness to save the land he’d pledged himself to and the others that called it home. For the most part, he’d been successful in keeping it from the citadel and the library, but rolling hills around them are barren and the trees nothing but ashy, smoldering sticks.
His hide is burned and his muscles scream with exhaustion. The Warden had stopped only long enough to quickly drink and eat from time to time, and rested only when he absolutely had to since the fire had first been spotted.
There’s a murmur across the Capitol, however, that a peculiar equine had come and asked for them to gather. Begrudgingly, Ulric follows them, but not without a worrisome glance over his shoulder to assure that nobody has gone missing, that the fire won’t sneak up on them while their attention is momentarily elsewhere. He had to keep them safe.
His barrel rattled with a cough as he draws near, coming to stand front and center of the ethereal man. Ulric couldn’t be sure, but even in as poor a state as he appeared, there seemed to be something... otherworldly about the one standing before them all.
“... Have you come to help?” He asks after a long pause once the coughing had subsided, his voice laden with exhaustion.
"Speaking."
HISTORY HAS ITS EYES ON YOU ➳ allcontact is permitted and encouraged
"I am the one thing in life I can control. I am inimitable, I am an original."
Mother had been reluctant to let him outside very often. She had said the smoke was too bad, that she worried for his health and safety, for Anemone’s as well. For a while Regis was content to listen and follow the rules set forth, spending an awful amount of time resting when he did so little.
But... for as young as he was, Regis was intuitive. He might not have understood just how bad the fire could become or how bad it already was, not really, but what he did know was that his father was out there alongside their uncle Ulric, and he missed and worried about them.
It wasn’t often he’d see his father since the fires had begun and smoke ruled Delumine, but when he did, it was never for long and he was always too tired to play or tell any of his wondrous stories.
At first, it seemed today would be no different; that he’d get a couple hours with his entire family, end up saying goodbye to his father for the remainder of the day, and then stay cooped up waiting for his return. That was until word began to spread just as quickly as the fire itself that somebody was outside, beckoning them to come.
Beside his father he stuck, his still tiny form bumping against his foreleg as they made their way outside. The smoke tickled his throat and caused him to cough, but the colt did his best to suppress it, to appear strong just like Somnus, like Eulalie, like his sissy Anemone.
Tipping his head back to get a better look at the dark colored equine, Regis was drawn to the bright pattern embellished on his forehead and looked on in childlike wonder. Who was he, and why had he asked them all to gather? Had he come to help douse the flames and bring back the smiles that had become so rare, and return their light?
Pavetta can see the flames burning blood red in the late night from the castle walls. They are tranquil tonight; a steady glow that might be beautiful as it blended with the first rays of dawn were it not for the lives and land it consumed. What is to stop them from consuming the capitol next?
She doesn't sleep much. The dreams are too real and she finds that she cannot wake from them once she enters them. The sound of her own screams, the heat of the flames, the smell of burning flesh and hair. She is trapped in that fire over and over again. The smell of ash remains when she wakes and she realizes the nightmare is ongoing, the fires still burning, destorying Dawn Court.
How much longer can they hold out?
There is no help coming or surely it would have arrived by now. The other Courts were tied up in their own disasters.
She is about to turn away from the wall and return to begin her dawn shift holding the flames at bay when something peculiar catches her eye. A stranger, shrouded in the shadow, standing in the center of the court yard.
Dawn's first light is gray and solemn; illuminating the stranger in a strange, otherwordly glow. He is not proud, but bent and broken. His voice is soft, and yet she hears it from the walls. He calls to them, his children.
A god, then.
She remains rigid and umoving, as if her hooves had frozen to the cobblestones. Part of her, the angry, desperate part, wants to blame him for the tragedies of Dawn. If he was anything like his brother, the Sun...she wanted nothing to do with him and the games of the gods. For surely that is what this all is?
They gather to him, sheep to their shepherd. Ulric, Po, faces she does not yet know, and even the children.
She can't do it, she can't heed his call. She stubbornly refuses. They are all the same. And yet, if he has any answers, brings any help, she knew she must do away with her pride and anger and welcome it, because Dawn Court surely needed relief and sanctuary.
a pearl in pigshit, a diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse,
creature in whom nothing, but nothing, remains of an elven woman ---
09-22-2018, 01:18 PM
Played by
Sparrow [PM] Posts: 196 — Threads: 34 Signos: 25
The affectionate, fond greeting came from raspy, cracked lips, the Dawn King’s voice nearly stolen from the constant inhalation of smoke and ash. He recognized the God immediately, verdant eyes gazing tiredly, yet adoringly upon his patron deity. The dunalino’s golden body was marred and stained with soot from having been out fighting the fires, his tail and mane both singed and burned in places in a haphazard disaster. Typically one so poised and thoughtful of his appearance, Somnus had grown to care far less when it meant that lives were in danger.
He did not have the time, nor the luxury, not while his land burned and fell down about his very ears.
Their efforts, of course, had not been for vain. The fires had receded due to their combined efforts and keen diligence, charred remains of the land they called ‘home’ revealed in place of churning, furious flames… Yet it was not enough. The fires still burned, and they could not, would not rest until the very last fire was put out.
“Majesty… You’ve finally come.”
Somnus’ obsidian crown dipped downwards in utmost respect, head dipping low in a bow of reverence and awe with his patron God’s arrival. He recalled the meeting with Tempus, following the blessed gift of Oriens’ private company upon Veneror, and the vague words of blessing that the Wise One had bestowed upon him seemingly a lifetime ago. Strange how it had not been very long ago at all.
The tactician's emerald eyes then focused on those who had arrived, the members of his Court that he felt he had hardly seen since the fires had arrived. Staying on the front lines had taken almost all of his time away from the heart of his Court, but they persisted, stubborn and determined to weather the storm. Somnus spotted Pavetta and Ipomoea, and he was relieved to see both Regent and Emissary unharmed and well... Or, as well as one could be given the circumstances. There were a few faces that he couldn't place, but hopefully soon he could familiarize himself with all of them.
Lifting his head and straightening his posture with an elegant roll of the shoulders, Somnus pressed his muzzle momentarily against Regis’ neck where he stood close to Ulric and inhaled his son’s comforting scent before offering Oriens his full attention. The ethereal stallion appeared just as haggard, harried, and damaged as Delumine itself, and Somnus’ concern only grew.
“Please, Wise One; what wisdom do you have to offer us? I will do anything… We will do anything, to ensure that our people and our home survives these fires.”
tag:
-coughs- wow what are words? (Also yes, I'm a bit of a square and we're a bit late BUT Som-Som is there)
"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self."
Please tag Somnus in all replies!
09-23-2018, 01:51 AM - This post was last modified: 09-23-2018, 01:54 AM by Somnus
The god looks upon each face as they gather, silent despite their pleas. So still does he stand that it would seem he were carved of rock, the sun he wears growing dimmer by the minute.
The sun inscribed upon his brow pulses slowly, keeping rhythm with his heart. It casts a feeble glow about the god, but its light does not travel far in the smoky haze. For one long, unsettling moment longer, the god remains silent as he gazes upon his Court. As the gathered crowd begins to murmur and speak up and the Sovereign arrives, the deity stirs.
“People of Delumine,” his voice is soft, so that one must listen attentively to hear, “our Court, as you know better than any, has suffered. I have traveled to the forest, walked amongst its flames - but the fire rages on, creeping steadily closer. Your firefighters are brave, and determined, but with every day the fire continues to spread.” The smoke hanging thickly in the air, obscuring the skies and casting the Dawn Court in a perpetual shadow, is testament enough to his words.
Oriens continues. “This wildfire is not natural. It was not created by chance, some of you may have guessed as much or witnessed it firsthand. Something has set it intentionally. Something out there is destroying our home... and we need to stop it. Together.”
Would they know? Could any of them guess the origin?
Many of them were not warriors, such had always been the way of the Dawn Court. But they didn't need to be warriors: wits were as good as brawn, and his people had never lacked for them. Even so, what he asked would test them.
He couldn’t help but wonder: how many would blame him for the fires?
Oriens has arrived back to the Dawn Court after surveying the fires in Viride. There's something - or perhaps someone? - out in the forest setting fires, and Oriens has vowed his help in stopping them. Stay tuned to find out how and when!
Replies due by midnight on October 3rd EST!
***STAFF EDIT: extended to midnight on October 6th!
Silence spread across their hold. Somnus’ verdant, tired eyes drifted upon the many equines that had joined them, summoned by Oriens’ mere presence alone. The Dawn King’s gaze focused once more upon his wise deity; defeated, flame-touched, exhausted as the rest of them, and yet Somnus had never seen anything more magnificent. With their chosen God among them, vowing to assist them in fighting these fires, surely they could overcome such terrible obstacles and save their home?
The dunalino glanced to his sides, spotting those he knew and trusted best. Ulric, Ipomoea, Pavetta… His family at his back. The faces stretched out and gathered around him; old and new.
“… It seems that whenever we manage to stave off one fire, another takes its place somewhere else,” Somnus began, the elegant lilt of his accented vocals raspy from the constant inhalation of smoke, “We’ve been doing all we can to ward off the flames from Court proper, as well as the Library, but we are only mortal.”
The things they had seen on the front lines… The screams of those caught in the flames still rang in his ears. Somnus did not want to think of the ones they might have already lost, unknowingly swallowed among the flames. He prayed, desperately, there were none.
“We’ve begun to believe that you are correct, Wise One; these fires are unnatural. Otherworldly.” There was no culpability swimming within the Sovereign’s voice; no accusation, no blame, no vehement hate like other Courts may hold towards their respective deities. Instead, there was only fatigue and determination, both battling for dominance within a dusty golden creature so stripped thin. “Yet we’ve been unable to run much reconnaissance on the matter, with our numbers spread so thin. Despite our best efforts, we haven’t discovered what has been creating such voracious wildfires, nor what might be capable of doing so quite so suddenly. I believe –“
Abruptly, the dunalino cut himself off, his voice cracking and choked. He coughed once, twice, an awful hacking sound, then went on after clearing his throat. Despite it all, the Dawn King appeared almost sheepish. “Apologies. I merely meant to say that I believe it best for us to take a moment and deliberate over what all we know about these fires. They are strong, but pop up so suddenly and without pattern. Or, at least any pattern that we’ve taken note of… They are also so very strong. Magical, perhaps?”
The dunalino looked then to his family at his side once more, brushing his muzzle against Regis' soft forelock. His heart swelled. Oh, how he yearned to keep them all safe. Then his head turned to Ulric, to Ipomoea, to Pavetta, to those who he had seen on the front lines battling the flames at his side.
In the distance, the smoke continued to rise, staining their beautiful skies and sullying it with black rain made of ash. Their beautiful home...
Turning his gaze back to Oriens, Somnus went on, albeit briefly. "Do you have any wisdom to what this, exactly, might be, Wise One? Anything to assist us in defeating it?"Please... Please, Lord. Help us save our home.
tag:
"There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self."
Each step down the wall stairs is precise, crisp, exact. Pavetta can’t think of any point in her life where her path has mattered more. Not even when it led her from the mountain convent to the valley-- to a feral, wild husband, a lord of war and heathens. Nothing has mattered this much in her life until now. Not even when the pyre of her husband burned bright and hot in the cold, starry night. This moment is important; she can feel it in her bones, her marrow, her organs, her heart.
This will define everything…
She is drawn to him. Oriens. That is what Somnus calls him. Somnus speaks to the stranger like he is an old friend, like a king just awoken from a deep, undisturbed slumber. Majesty. She descends more, curious, ears flicking to and fro in a nervous, agitated matter. Flight or fight. She is back to this state again; she is in the swamplands of the Rift with that monster breathing down her neck, the shadow of death clinging to her heels...and it is live or die, live or die, live or die…
She resists the urge to fly, fly far away into the rays of the dawn. Fly away from her responsibilities, from those depending on her. How could she ever think she could do this? How can she be what she is not? I am a liar, a fool, a thief, a liar… She can’t let them down, not now, not when she has come this far. Or has she come very far at all? Is she still that scared girl from the mountain convent? Is she still that frightened woman-child, wife to a husband she may or may not love? Who am I? Her mind spins, spins, spins.
In a way that she can’t explain, she goes to him anyway. Oriens Perhaps it is because she was without a father as a child, without paternal guidance, without love. Perhaps it is because he does not seem like the gods of old she has known in the past. He does not seem the judging sort, not like that horrible Solis she had met that fateful day on the mountain top. She listens because that is what he asks of them, and he does not demand and asks politely. He is weary, so weary. She can feel it. See it. The way he leans on one side more than another; the manner in which the strange, alien marking on his brow pulses weakly. A star shedding its last light. Falling until it is nothing anymore. The sun disappearing behind the horizon.
Fear is in her heart. Cold, strangling, gasping. She feels it because it is real—the realization of what may be haunting Delumine. The fires. She recalls the squirrel that burst into flame in the middle of a serene, green clearing; how close she came to...
Death.
After Somnus says his piece, Pavetta asks: “If it is not you or your kin, is there another.” It is not a question. A demand. Her voice is strong, unrelenting, despite the tremble in her heart: delicate, like a bird trapped in a cage. “Is there another?” she repeats, this time more urgently, wildly, prying; unable to withhold the emotion in her voice—the fear, the anger, the shock. “Is there another of your kind that is not bound to the laws of balance?”
Is there one who seeks to destroy it?
a pearl in pigshit, a diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse,
creature in whom nothing, but nothing, remains of an elven woman ---
Mother had been reluctant to let him outside very often. She had said the smoke was too bad, that she worried for his health and safety, for Anemone’s as well. For a while Regis was content to listen and follow the rules set forth, spending an awful amount of time resting when he did so little.
