With a sudden shudder, the sun begins to move again.
It trembles in the sky even as the island directly below it trembles, and all at once chaos erupts. It is as if the silence of the past three days is more than the island can handle, and it is now determined to make up for it.
Perhaps the citizens of Novus have overstayed their welcome; or perhaps the magic of the island has finally gone mad.
In the blink of an eye, the island begins to fall apart. The trees are collapsing in on themselves, trapping any who are unfortunate enough to become caught within their boughs. Strange animals crash through the underbrush, their cries echoing through the forest.
The ground itself begins to shake, gently at first, then with increasing determination. The sand bucks, as if in an attempt to shake the equines off and toss them into the sea. The tremors open up great rifts in the sand - pits that open like great mouths, eating up sand and anyone who ventures too close.
The waves come rushing in with a roar, scratching at the sandy beach and drenching the sand. Further and further inland they venture, until the pristine white beach has disappeared completely beneath the water, and the waters lap at the trees. At first it seems as though the waves are simply rising - but then, it becomes perfectly, terribly clear that the island is beginning to sink, like a ship descending into the depths of the ocean.
There are still many left on the island; some begin to flee at the first tremor of the earth, remembering the way the earth trembled before the volcano exploded. Some were still fighting the great sand snake in the center of the island, perhaps unaware of the danger around them. Others only spring into action when the waves and the current begin to pull at their fetlocks.
There’s only one way off the island - the same way they entered.
But the bridge leading to the island begins to twist, like a great black snake writhing in mid air. Scale-like chunks of obsidian break off and fall down, down, down into the sea, where they land with a splash. When they sink the sea monsters swarm around them, working themselves into a frenzy. The sea is a foamy mass of waves and shadows.
Time is running out, and the island is disintegrating before their very eyes. Through it all is a strange, haunting lullaby that pulses like a heartbeat, like the island is singing them all to sleep.
Will they stop to listen?
Or will they ignore the island’s enchantment, and run for their lives?
The island is sinking.
Now that the relic has at last been captured, the land is beginning to wilt. Perhaps the relic was the heart of the island, and now without it, it cannot go on. Perhaps this is the end, or perhaps it is only temporary. But by the end of the day the island will lie dormant once more beneath the ocean. If your character is still on this strange land, now is the time to make their exit - and quickly. Soon it will be too late...
No more threads may be started on the island. Current threads can still be replied to and completed!
If your character has an unused mollusk shell, golden leaf, or iridescent feather from a previous round, you may use that now to give your character a second bonus roll! Special items may only be applied to the characters who earned it, and now is the last time you may use such an item.
Each character can make one reply to this thread.
Each reply to this thread gives you +1 post in an SWP.
All replies after October 29th, 2019 will not be considered for a RE roll.
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3: 300 signos
4: +3EXP points
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10-14-2019, 11:44 PM - This post was last modified: 10-14-2019, 11:45 PM by Random Events
Below Zero
my frost philosophy will put no curse on me
Bel had long since found her way out of the battle of the relic, but she was still spending time with the Island, watching the way the animals interacted with one another, with the way it seemed to be alive with it's own odd magic. The belle of the sea was growing concerned. The tremors had been going for a while but now - suddenly - they felt like they were increasing in size, strength - in destruction. And then suddenly - it was like the Island was revolting, forcing them out - or trapping them within it. Screams seem to tear at the air as the Island came alive, and began to have it's own kind of chaos. All around her, trees were collapsing in - trapping those unfortunate to become caught beneath them. The waves were rising - revolting, lapping at her limbs as if begging her to stay. Sinkhole sprung up and Bel jumped away as another horse fell in and disappeared. Alright, time to go.
The thought sprung up with out question and Below Zero ran to the bridge, starting across it to get to the main land. She was partially across when she felt the first twitch, the first shift - the first awkward buck of it and her eyes widened further in alarm. And then it began to crumble, rock and rubble disappearing into the swirling sea where monsters were rising up to claim what they could. Bel lunged, jumping from slippery, breaking rock, to slippery, breaking rock. Her heart jack-rabbitted in her chest, but with the water swirling around her hooves as she pieces she was using as stepping stones began to break, her footing became more sure, more ready and strong. Even when the water was to her ankles, she moved forward. When the water was to her knees, she ignored the tentacles and tails trying to drag her under - she continued. When the water was to her chest, she ignored the monsters starting to back off - Novus shoreline was visible. She lunged off the final few pieces, now using her tail in the water to aide her in her final desperate swim to safety, where she gratefully pulled herself to shore, her breath heaving and she collapsed on the stable beach sand, glad to feel no more tremors, no more fear.
Around her other horses were crossing to safety looking just as relieved as she was to have made it out. The island was sinking, Bel watched as it dipped low, below the waves, taking it's secrets, and it's madness with it - as well as those still too late, to trapped with in it's core. Bel stepped up before moving forward to the water's edge, assisting any of the struggling swimmers to shore before the waters and sea creatures could trap them in the depths as well, she had no fear of the sea, she was a creature of it herself, but she knew not every other horse would feel the same. And with the chaos of the island dying and sinking, she knew many would be struggling to safety.
Thoughts Speech
i feel no cold, i feel no fear inside my mind Now I'm full of energy
STAFF EDIT***
@Below Zero has rolled a 3! They have been awarded +3 exp.
Corrdelia had heard of the relic, but decided not to partake in the hunt. She did not find stealing an item from a god to be particularly appealing (or what might happen afterwards). So when the island begins to crumble, she has a gut feeling that this is the consequence she had been afraid of.
Hāsta flaps frantically in the air next to her as the pair watch the trees collapse and animals cry out for help. The woman's heart breaks for them, but it's impossible to tell where they might be for her to save them. The ground beneath her hooves shakes so hard, it's certainly a great earthquake, much like the day the volcano erupted.
"We have to get out of here!" the crow yells into her mind, and Corr does not need her to say that twice.
With a large leap, she takes to the air with her companion and they head back in the direction of the bridge. From up high, they can see more of the destruction and it's incredible. The island is literally collapsing in on itself and there is dust filling the air from the erupting sand. Even the ocean is raging and it begins to swallow the island as the waves crash. More equines take to the sky while others are fleeing as fast as they can from below.
On and on they fly, leaving the island behind. Soon it will be nothing but a memory as the ocean takes it back underneath. Corr can only imagine what became of the relic and those who dared to search for it.
Grueling tensions // Want me in a spiral // I'm waiting to unravel // Twisted motives // Drive me in a circle // I'm dying to untangle
It all happens so fast. One moment, she is attacking the large snake guarding the relic… the next she's thrown into darkness. At first, she panics as it reminds her of when she had been thrown from Ourania to Novus. It happened just as suddenly and she felt the rush of cold air.
When Morrighan is thrown onto the ground and begins to look around, she feels partially relieved. Around her are the familiar landmarks of the island shore right after one gets off the lava rock bridge. Even the unicorn statue still stands- a memory of the strange riddle and that hooded woman she will never seem to know. But, she isn't all too focused on her right now. She is mostly fuming over the fact that she had finally found the stupid piece of rock, but now it's like nothing happened. The mare is right back where she started and it's hard to tell if all of what she just experienced was not a dream.
When the tremors start, Morrighan is convinced it was in fact not a dream.
She can hear a cracking sound similar to when the island first appeared in the distance. The earth shook then and it begins to shake badly now. She can hear the rush of animals- equine and not- scrabbling about. A crowd begins to rush forward in the direction of the bridge and, at first, she doesn't do anything. It's almost like she doesn't believe that a big danger is happening and wants to brave it out. But once the trees start to collapse and the ground seems to be fighting back as the island sinks, it's clear that she'd be stupid to stay.
The mare immediately follows the rest of the crowd and runs as fast as she can to the bridge. She can see the winged ones flying high above this mess and is instantly jealous of their advantage. When she makes it onto that first step of black rock, she considers looking back at the land while it crumbles, but quickly changes her mind. Even the bridge is beginning to tremble and small pieces are falling into the water.
There is no time to waste. Morrighan just runs and thinks of Denocte and home.
Lucinda saw it sitting there gleaming behind the new snake that had appeared to guard it. The beast opened its jaw wide when she and the others approached. The woman had been determined since she had made it so far, but then it seemed luck was not on her side this time.
The snake's jaws turned into a tunnel; just another illusion to make them think they were close to the end of the race. It surely felt like it as the distance between her and the relic would lessen for a moment. But that feeling went away almost in the blink of an eye.
And it's after a blink that she finds herself on the island again. It's as if someone woke her up from a dream and she's back at the island entrance. She sees the lava bridge ahead and once again feels the sand underneath her hooves. Lucinda can't help but feel pretty disappointed. She had been so close to finally snatching it up, but it eluded her after all. Or maybe it never existed in the first place.
There is not much time for her to process her defeat when she feels the ground beneath her tremble. Then there is the rushing of hooves as others are galloping in a crowd towards the bridge. She stares at them with confusion, but soon it's made clear that the island has decided to destroy itself. There are shouts and cries ringing in the air along with the sound of cracking ground and crashing waves. This is certainly a time she wishes her wings worked for flight or that Abraxia is by her side, but she would just have to get by the old fashioned way.
Picking up her staff, the woman makes her way to the bridge while others are scrambling in terror. While her pace is quick, she does not make a mad rush to the exit like everyone else.
What a shame. This place went through all the trouble to erupt from the ground only to be swallowed up by the sea again. Strange magic indeed…
She makes a mental note to track down Vendetta and speak to her of this. The woman had a way of getting information and any information on the relic's whereabouts would be valuable indeed.
It had been too much, a dream she’d half wanted to wake from; she’d never seen so much color in her life. The pegasus wasn’t sure whether it made everything else - all the unnatural things, all the god-things, all the wrong things - stranger or less so, all that green, a kind of wealth she’d never really considered.
But even before the Relic started calling, before the sun stood still and the sand built itself into a snake and the nightmares began, she had gone home.
And yet her curiosity lingered, gnawing like a desert coyote on her thoughts, always at the back of her mind. She worried for Ipomoea and the others she knew; she wondered what was happening, what adventures she was missing, what wonder and what terror. Solterra was only a skeleton, by then, full of skinny horses whose eyes glinted fever-bright and round in their skulls. An end must be coming, because nothing could continue like this, not for long. Every time she left the desert, grateful for her wings, it became a little easier to turn her back, and a little harder to go.
Now she stood at the edge of the sea, where the black bridge had first risen like an obsidian spine, and forgot about her Court entirely. Even from here she could feel the ground shuddering like a great beast beneath a swarm of flies. And, like those flies, she could see small shapes (growing larger every moment) fleeing from the island, racing down the bridge, flying through the calm blue sky. Her heart trembled in her chest as though she was among them; her mouth was dry, her teeth set.
Horror and awe kept her feet planted, though in her high feeling the breeze swept around her like an anxious lover, raking its fingers through her short hair, blowing its breath on her feathers. It smelled of the salt and brine of the ocean, and not smoke, or black metal, or magic, and had she been paying attention she would have been grateful.
By the time the bridge began to buckle and break, by the time the waves were distant white teeth cutting at the island (too far to see that it is sinking, near enough to see it is terrible) her thoughts were screaming for those escapees, get out get out get out, and not for the first time this year she was helpless, helpless, helpless but to watch and worry.
The world below him when he had hunted the relic slipped beneath his feet like sand in an hourglass – and now, it was as if someone had flipped it once more. And the funnel was uneven this time. Too much like an hourglass, the sand did sift – bodies did slip into the great nothingness of the below, and had he been too foolish he may have stopped to wonder where that space of time went. But instead, there was only that ushering of the magic's whisper: hurry, hurry. he hadn't heard it before but it was a scream now – and it pressed hot on his heels like the snapping jaws of a hungry dog. He raced, the relic packed neatly in his satchel as he rushed, sometimes leapt over bodies tripped or sunken into the island that groped famished now. It was no longer a bear or butterflies or serpents, but a whole thing altogether ; something monumental, something horrible.
Others screamed, others gasped, others whined and cried and about them drew an aura of wrathful silence or the groaning of defeat or whatever else manner of despair found them wanting – but oh, Erasmus was grinning. He was grinning as he was chased by that horrid, hungry hound, as one by one each hoofbeat thrust against the earth opened up a new pit that threatened to swallow him whole, to steal back the relic he did not deserve. To make him bow. To make him repent. But oh, Erasmus grins. And to anyone that did not see him snatch the relic from its pedestal, they may think he is a mad man. And they may be correct. Because it is not a wild, toothy grin of exasperated triumph. It is a peaceful, starstruck grin, something like the thought of ethereal things far beyond the island, but too dark to be romantic. He is at peace, even as the molten ground around him is churned and upturned and groaning furiously as his gait thunders feral overhead.
He does not wince or shout as the bridge sees him coming and twists like the serpent that has lunged for his throat. If it would, he would charge through it as he had done before, and tunnel through another cathedral of a god he does not know. Another altar would he blaspheme, and still the guiltless grin would remain. Even as the earth bucked and buckled, and his path seized upright so that he was bounding over it, it like a dune jutting from blackened earth below, sinking deep into its valley and finding the footing to go on again. onward. Even as that bridge sunk suddenly so that his legs crashed into seawater and its waves frothed and splashed rough against his chest, on he went. The ocean water had never felt so hot, so stinging, had never looked so beautifully horrifying – but as much as it begged him to look, to stop, to stay, on he went. Erasmus and the godly trinket. The stone he did not understand. The relic he did not deserve.
It was only when the magic of the island waned and he felt it in every crook and sinew that he began to slow, that he knew he was far enough that he could stop and breathe. The air beyond the island felt so heavy, and he had never noticed it until now. The hum was there, but it was faint, and he knew it for what it was. A song. A lament. It seemed mournful now, a wailing groan that was capsized by oceanic gurgles and the crackling of fallen trees. He stopped when the shadows of the Cliffs fell over him and the softness of the prairie was well underfoot; when the sand changed to grasses and faded bulbs, and he felt the weight of the world come crashing like the recognition of a broken magic that it was. Exhaustion found him slowly, and as he looked at the sinking island he could not help but listen and feel the despair of which it sung.
But it was his now, and he was not giving it back.
STAFF EDIT***
@Erasmus has rolled a 4! They have been awarded +3 exp.
It's not forgoing of the lie
It's not the opening of eyes
It's not the waking, it's the rising
Aster does not yet understand death, or the danger of it lurking always, a wolf with eyes on all of them.
It does not occur to her when the island begins to crumble and the whole world is chaos as she races for the long, sinuous curves of the sand-snake and the relic beyond it. She does not think of how her life might end there like a little match blown out. Even her fear is swallowed up by adrenaline, and the hammer of her heart is not a frightened thing but a hungry one.
And then the world is blurring, and something is pulling on her, an inside-outside kind of gravity like the air is trying to compress her down, down, into a dense bit of gold, into nothing at all. It feels a little like the portal their mother had cut open from nothingness, and vanished into, and Aster has only time to wonder if they are going home -
Then she blinks her eyes open, her mouth parted in a soundless cry, and finds herself standing at the far edge of the island, near the statue of the unicorn. The waves are already lapping at her feet, tasting her with cold salt tongues. And she is alone.
Not alone - there is a herd of horses like a chaotic flock, milling and wheeling and stamping and kicking, crowding one another into the sea, onto the bridge. The noise is worse than the relic, and maybe this is the true world, the one she had yet to be born to; she longs for the silence of the glade with her father and mother and brother and the sun as motionless as a mountain. But her brother is not here.
Now she screams his name. Now panic rises in her throat like a pheasant flushing up in the sky, wings spread wide to catch bullets and the dogs panting below. There is nothing otherworldly about her in this moment; she is only a girl, terrified, searching for her brother. And not finding him, and not finding him.
She should never have told him to go the other way, should never have let an inch open up between their shoulders. Aster must go back -
But she can’t. There is a wall of horses, of chests and legs and hooves, and they force her onward. Anytime she slips around one she’s met with another, and enough notice the filly even in their own fear to nudge her, push her, direct her toward the bridge. Even as she steps onto the slick obsidian it shifts and buckles under her feet, and still she tries to turn, wishing she could stop time, wishing she could fly, wishing Leonidas was there.
The air itself is rippling with noise, with motion. She is five yards out on the bridge, then ten, and the island is heaving and bucking, the waves are eating it, the trees are falling like sticks and every breath sears her lungs.
In the end it is run with the group or be trampled by it, and so with her legs burning and her attention always behind her Aster gives in. She doesn’t know where her brother is. Her only companions now are the acrid taste of fear and the burning beginning of rage - at the island, at the magic, at the other horses, at all the things that have torn Leonidas from her.
@na | poop post
STAFF EDIT***
@Aster has rolled a 3! They have been awarded +300 signos.
She had been caught by the look in the bear's eyes. The chrysalis had swung clear as the surface of a lake. Orange wings had pulsed wetly behind it, like they were begging to be born, or free, or anything but trapped in the hole in a monster's face. And so Thana had stepped closer to the wall between the horses and the bear with her own eyes aching each time she met the bear's look (that wasn't really a look at all).
The other horses had gone on, or gone back, and she still did nothing but mirror each step the bear took. Her lungs had mirrored the pulsing wings and her heart become nothing more than an echo of the trembling sand that sang. Each time the bear stepped left she followed, and each time it moved right she followed.
And when it stopped and lifted that empty stare to her own (finally!) she had curled her neck towards the beast. The wind felt like a touch between the hollows of her horn and her tail felt like a gavel hung from the bones of her spine. They make savage sounds at each other, Thana and the bear, and she thinks that this is the only moment on the island that anything had understand all the rot running through her at all.
Some had called her lovely and wild, but she knew better. Over and over again her heart told her words are a lies.
The only truth is this-- two monsters meeting across a field that neither of them made, with holes in their head that cannot see anything but dead. Thana's smile is all tooth and rusted blood. She steps closer..
And then the island starts to fall apart.
The wall between the bear and Thana disintegrates and they turn together towards the place where the island is starting to swallow up the island. The bear follows closely and neither pauses until the ground levels out beneath their hooves.
Thana looks at the bear, just before he turns, and neither of them blinks.
The only truth is this---
"Death hath no dominion"
Using her last extra item for a second roll
STAFF EDIT***
@Thana has rolled a 2 and 4! They have been awarded +3 exp and +250 signos.
The Illuminated
“both beauty and terror, without beginning, without end.”
The island is in chaos and everyone else is running for the mainland.
Trees are arcing over her head like comets and vines are following each like shooting stars. The sky is alive with destruction and earth. To her is feels like watching the world be born, like wild constellations have brought low their hands to reshape reality into something bolder, something fierce, something that favors the ruthless.
Around her there are screams as the earth starts to swallow mortals whole, carrying them to the belly of the world that created her. There is fire too where magic has crawled it's way out of the skin of horses to try to save itself (or perhaps the body it loves). And if there are predators running around her she does not notice them in all the glory of the remaking.
The island is in the chaos and Al'Zahra is still dancing.
Over the felled trees laying around her like the torn off limbs of gods she is dancing. There are leaves and vines caught in her hair from the place by the sea where the wind was howling like a dragon. Dirt is speckled down her legs, like freckles and like bird-spots. She's a wild, dirty thing in the chaos, like a creature that crawled out the belly of the earth and screamed at the ocean, today you will not eat me. She feels as lovely as she ever has.
Her hooves feel like wings swooping through the pitching island like it's nothing more than mountains rising sharp and wicked below her. And her gold is almost silent with all the screaming, and moaning, and death-knell symphony going on and on around her. It's a song she'll hear long after this island returns to the sea, long after her bones have finally discovered what it's like to ache and rust beneath her skin.
There is a lullaby under all of that, a hum, and it feel like the pulse of a god moving through her. It feels like it's reshaping her into something new.
She dances until the bridge is bucking beneath her like a serpent trying to shake free from reality. Sometimes she is leaping over bodies that are left behind (that makes her heart feel like winter) and sometimes she is running belly-low to beat a wave of black-stone lava rushing towards her.
Over and over again the island tries to take her with it. Over and over again she crawls away with a playful curl of her neck. not today. Sometimes she turns her eyes behind her where the sea is rushing in like a river of death. And every time she does her eyes say, in sparks of molten god-gold, never again.
![[Image: i-jTNwWx8.png]](https://photos.smugmug.com/BelowZeroNovus/n-X9d9fZ/i-jTNwWx8/1/e09fb6c3/O/i-jTNwWx8.png)
