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Played by Offline Raeym. [PM] Posts: 59 — Threads: 12
Signos: 930
Night Court Soldier
Male [he/him/his] // Immortal [Year 500 Winter] // 16.3 hh // Hth: 8 — Atk: 12 — Exp: 14 // Active Magic: Umbrakinesis // Bonded:
#1

At first, there is nothing. The nothing is a grace unto him, having left the bustle of the festivities far behind – they drone and pipe upwards of jolly things, their tunes fading into their distant meadows. Here, the solemnity is left to the rustling of leaves and the howling of a misplaced gale. Erasmus finds comfort in that – as he does most things that are oft quiet and dark, dark enough to dream. But o! What folly it is, that those dreams do not take flight; they are fettered to reality, and upon each waking slight come plummeting thus. Tonight, it is hard to say whether it is a dream or a vision that calls him to a place. There are voices in the mist, and while shadows shift behind the hoary sight the subject of their nature is much for the imagination.

When he arrives to that grand, leaf-mouthed entrance unto the Viride Forest, an old man sighs.

No one listens. he says simply, as if to no one at all. Erasmus does not answer, thereon the point of its vague notion, and moves to the vining web of greenery towered high above. Its thicket is starless, the moon consumed by entangled boughs that shake and quiver with soundless bluster. Each leaf beneath is a crunching and a scattering that seems to all but liven the echoes that climb up the barks of the old trees. And somewhere, he hears a vagrant song as soft as whispers, and checks to be sure the jovial meadow festivals were far behind.

The mouth to the forest gapes and grins, and beyond another step, seems to close behind him. He does not think much to contemplate the livelihood of forest walls that breathe and taunt. Though he does, when he treads softly through the halls of his predecessor's memories, find a familiarity to a particular jungle strung with ruby-eyed birds and shifting black mirror waters. Somewhere within that memory burns a bright hot moon with teeth, and something tells him that these places were an untrustworthy sort, but these things do not reveal themselves to him.

Or so he thought.

He hears the shimmering thing before he sees it – it hisses through the parched leaves, shakes the smallest boughs with its hurried force as though secretary to chaos, exhausting speed for stealth. Just as he steels himself, muscles recoiled like a guarded viper, the great luminescent bulb bursts through a plating of browned leaves and pauses where it finds its audience, bobbing smoothly in suspension. It hovers for a moment, swirling like a resetting compass, and before it can be touched careens back down the path it had previously cavorted. Erasmus, or the thing that is, has not accustomed himself to the more hostile elements of the Novusian continent, and therefore loosens freely from his tight bound muscles to watch in spectral wonder.

It pauses once more a ways down the path, bobbing pleasantly to itself once more, and it speaks in a way without words that bids him down the narrow road. It is dusty and cleared, save for the occasional imprint of a tensed hoofplace that sank in softer ground. Erasmus obliges its cordial welcome into the darker depths of the Viride, none the wiser.

art


@Official Dawn Account




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Played by Offline Ipomoea [PM] Posts: 21 — Threads: 6
Signos: 105
#2











the first choice


As you begin the pathway, the forest around you seems to come alive. There are birds of every size and shape flitting from branch to branch overhead, vibrant blue butterflies dancing around your hooves, rustlings in the nearby bushes. Perhaps you are familiar with the woods, and they seem peaceful to you; or perhaps every creak of the branches makes your senses jump, and every shadow dancing just out of sight has your skin crawling.

Or perhaps it feels as though the forest is watching you. Maybe the woodland animals are not the only things alive here.

Regardless, as you venture further into the forest, the festival noises are replaced entirely with the sounds of flora and fauna, and the glow of the lanterns placed along the pathway is greater than what little sunlight manages to break through the canopy. It feels intimate here, and whether you came with company or alone, you begin to feel acutely aware of how alone you are walking in the woods.

It is not long before the rustling in the leaves grows louder, and another set of footsteps begin to echo your’s. But when you turn to look, only the empty forest path greets your eyes. The trees shiver, the light in the nearest lantern begins to waver; and from the shadows, a new light begins to shine as a thousand fireflies wander down the trail.

For a moment, they seem to form the outline of another horse. But when you blink the image slips away, and the fireflies swarm together. They drift near to you, almost shyly, cautiously; the wind seems to be holding its breath, waiting, waiting. The fireflies reach out to you like an old friend, their light falling across your face. And then as one they turn, gathering once more into the likeness of a horse. And without turning, without caring for the old man’s warning, they step off the forest path and into the forest. Without the warm glow of the lanterns, they make their own light weaving between the trees, casting strange rays of light that seem to linger too long in the darkness, reaching back to you.

As if beckoning to you to follow.





To continue the quest, you must reply to this thread with your character's choice. There is no word limit, and you can be as creative with the prompt as you'd like! In this round, it seems as though a horde of fireflies are trying to show your character something...

Choices: stay on the path, or follow the fireflies

@Erasmus






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Played by Offline Raeym. [PM] Posts: 59 — Threads: 12
Signos: 930
Night Court Soldier
Male [he/him/his] // Immortal [Year 500 Winter] // 16.3 hh // Hth: 8 — Atk: 12 — Exp: 14 // Active Magic: Umbrakinesis // Bonded:
#3

The forest unfolds about him in leagues of depth and color; possessed by its inner graces, the dark ebbs and flows with the chattering of songbirds, the buzzing of crickets, and more and more. In this pandaemoniac fervor, he tunes an ear to the quivering leaves that shuffle at his sides, toed by the path that winds on and on through the dark. The orb above, a hallowed small moon, bobs contentedly back up the trail as he follows, and there is little that crosses his mind but the oddity of the entire engagement, the presence of these things which Novus reveals to him in slow succession. It is not entirely off-putting – as a thing who has made rocks sing and sheets of ice burn, who has seen each star blotted out to darkness and has teethed their dying heat. As a thing which ran as the blood of worlds, of magic, of life, and ultimately, of death. He waits for the coming storm with reverence.

But here, in the orchestral bounds of Delumine, he wonders if the forest waits with him.

Though it cries out with the songbirds and dreams with the crickets and bellows with the pond frogs, it holds its breath as Erasmus keeps to the path, following beneath that soft lofty glow. It waits and follows curiously at his heels, leaves reaching softly for his horns, fireflies riding just above the heat of his flesh. It is tender, but he knows even a predator is tender when soft-padding the crisp leaves; he sees it at his back, the manner in which the forest prowls and smirks at this thing that does not belong. It is not tension that bids him, though it is palpable with every twitch of golden leaf and the way it catches its breath when he, daring so, pauses to look into the dark, deep wood and its paths beyond his own. For a moment it is as if even the crickets draw their strings and the birds quiet their chorus, looming in wonder that he may stray.

When it resumes its same breath, it is as though it walks with him through the dark. It has grown tired of compliance, of obedience, of each wanderer drawn steadily down its winding paths without question. It looks to Erasmus with a spectator's curio, and grins a chain of fireflies. When he gazes, they summon together a gentle communion of glittering light, their buzzing soft and distant droning, and though he stops on the trail to watch the small moon carries on. It casts a pale light on the low-hanging boughs, casts a glare over the sparking of fireflies as a few jut and stutter their flight beneath it when it passes, and on, on, on. It does not stop until it is far ahead, just almost out of sight as it rolls itself slowly beneath the shifting red-gold of an elm limb. The fireflies between them congregate and dance, and at once breathe into another life.

The line of their silhouette darker than the great forest that surrounds them, they draw together the dim glowing form of another figure, another vagrant lost on the forest path. Erasmus does not question its odd nature – the Erasmus-That-Is cannot discern what is unnatural between the strains of distant universes and the one his Erasmus-That-Was can recall. He only knows that Novus is a shifting realm of shuddering oddities itself, and tends to unravel into delightful mysteries. A more sensible creature may run back down the path of which it came, or simply watch as the thing looks to him with expectation then pivots carelessly, drawn into the shadows that crept along the path. A more reasonable fellow accustomed to the dangers of Delumine may watch it in wary, but continue on to find that pale faerie light that waits and notions: choose.

The forest, when the figure descends into its darkness, takes a momentary breath. He can feel it in the way the lanterns creek on their arbors and the way the saplings sway impatiently, the manner in which the crickets and toads chatter back to each other now, halting their previous melodies. And perhaps, it thinks, reaching deep with prying fingers into the mind that was, that Erasmus may have been cautious enough to continue on, ignoring that figure as it looks to him now and notions: choose.

The Aether stirs, humming softly to itself in wonder, and without a second question takes to the shadows that have held stead along the path. And when he follows that firefly silhouette, he knows the forest has quit holding its breath.

He waits for the storm.
art


@Official Dawn Account - Erasmus chooses to follow the fireflies.




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Played by Offline Ipomoea [PM] Posts: 21 — Threads: 6
Signos: 105
#4











the ghost-horses


The fireflies bob along ahead of you, leading you further and further away from the beaten trail. And as the trees close in around you, leaves whispering amongst themselves overhead, the lantern-light from the events begin to fade into the background. The shush, shush, shush of the trees start to give way to a murmur of voices, pressing in from the shadows.

The light-horse leading your way breaks into a run.

Through the forest it races, fallen leaves and forest soil shuddering in its wake, shedding fireflies like wishes. More and more fireflies appear, and form more light-horses that crash into the darkness and send the shadows fleeing. And with them, the warnings about the forest melt away when you follow.

But soon the trees fall away, and in the midst of a clearing the light-horses slow and turn to face you. Silver grass waves at you gently in a lingering breeze, waving you closer as a whisper rises from them. Mist weaves around their stalks like slender snakes, and as the fireflies begin to disperse, the mists begin to rise and take their place. A mist-foal framed with fireflies whinnies at you.

It takes a slow step towards you, breath whuffing softly over your face. The magic holding it together trembles.

And then, mist-hooves flashing as it rears, the ghost-foal begins to dance around you. The grass whispers louder and louder, as more mist-horses rise from the earth and join the dance. They whisper to you, dozens of voices that weave and blend together. Some of them whisper your name; or perhaps they repeat phrases of meaning back to you, phrases you hold dear in your heart. Perhaps you recognize the dancing foal, and perhaps it speaks to you kindly as it invites you to play a game of chase.

Or perhaps you see something malevolent in the way all those mist-horses surround you, and in the way their voices start to sound more like a hiss than a whisper.




To continue the quest, you must reply to this thread with your character's choice. There is no word limit, and you can be as creative with the prompt as you'd like! The fireflies have led you to a clearing, where dozens of mist-spirits rise from the silver grass and fog. They press in around you, whispering quietly to you - what are they saying? Are they friends or foes? Are you falling under their trance, or only unsettled by the ghosts?

Choices: double back to the path, or play with the mist-spirits

@Erasmus






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