"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
01-16-2019, 10:22 AM (This post was last modified: 01-16-2019, 10:39 AM by devin.)
ROUND 1
The faeries were able to bring back the uninfected places, safe havens for their people, but they know that it’s only a temporary relief. It is not a solution. After many days (or hours, or months, they aren’t the greatest at keeping track of mortal time) of contemplation, they believe they have found a solution.
But as their people had helped the Dark God to bring about this despair and destruction, the people are the secret ingredient to undoing it. The people of Beqanna will have to put more effort into the healing of Beqanna than they put into its sickening - at least four times as much, or so it seems to the fae on the Mountain. Four times the effort, and four lands brought back from Beqanna before - the symmetry is pleasing to the
Those who are willing to sacrifice to save the world have attempted two tasks now for the fae, and they are clearly tired as they gather on the mountain again; some have found new strength in the challenges, but others are standing haggard, on the verge of giving up. “Don’t give up,” she’s the smallest among them, hidden behind the others until she daintily picks her way to the front of the group. She’d remind you of a child, if you didn’t know she was an ageless fairy - an eternal child, then. Her coat is picked through with flowers and her eyes are strangely bright, like the spring sunshine. Her entreaty fills you with renewed purpose, because she reminds you of everything you are here to fight for.
”We need flowers from the Brilliant Pampas. One each of red, white, yellow, pink, and orange blooms.” You are thinking to yourself how easy that sounds, compared to the wasteland of Icicle Isle and the monsters in Silver Cove. You should have known it can’t be that easy. “But they have to be from spring’s first blooming - which is already upon us. Hurry!”
Rules
-Everyone may enter one character in this quest
-Round 1 entries are to be posted in Brilliant Pampas in the Quest thread no later than January 19th at 10:30 EST.
-This quest is primarily a TIMED quest. You’ve been warned. After the first round, eliminations will be made on a basis of who posts first, as long as the rules are followed. Posts will have a word limit.
-Your first post should describe your character making the journey to the Brilliant Pampas; upon arrival, they succumb to the effect of a blooming flower similar to the Poppy flower, and your post should end as they fall asleep.
-Your character can maintain their traits for this quest.
-This quest will have three rounds; no eliminations in round one, eliminations in round 2 of a percentage of questers depending on how many enter, and the third round will have one winner and four runner-ups.
-Anyone who fails to respond to a round just because they know it’s timed and they’re not going to be first will receive a permanent defect. If you need to withdraw for some reason, make sure you message the Officials so you are not penalized.
-Those eliminated after round 2 will receive a 0-space appearance trait that may be temporary or permanent (player’s choice), as will anyone who advances to round 3 but isn’t in the top five; those who advance to round 3 will have the chance to win a 2 or 3 space genetic trait.
And there's a lesson waiting to be learned the firestarters always get the burns and the good guys never get the girl
The white, sunlight-covered mare has always been one to help others; to help everyone in one go, to prevent Beqanna’s common lands from being empty and plague-ridden, all she has to do is gather flowers this spring?
It’s too good to be true, Ilma thinks, but still she wings herself to the place the fairies call her. The young-looking (but she probably isn’t young or, perhaps she is as old as the Pampas - but then she was intended to look this way) girl-fairie bids her the task, but they are in a hurry she says.
And so the white mare hurries - but landing in a field of flowers, she notices the pollen that now spread in the air from her landing make her feel funny, and drowsy; ungracefully, she drops - asleep before she hits the ground.
and shooting stars cannot fix the world
@[devin] short, as requested!
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
Rouhi is quick on his feet to accept the newly spoken of quest, his eager soul rushing to explore as he listened to the specifications of the quest, his ears perked in excitement, after the short introduction to what he would have to do the stallion began to rush down the mountain, only slowing down once he had reached the base of it. Since the male was so eager he didn't particularly take any care in being gentle on the way down, his body vaulting over the rocky terrain, his heart pounding as he exhaled heavily. The grulla stallion would have to pace himself in an orderly manner if he was to get there in one piece.
First, the stallion would have to venture through the forest, his steps lighthearted and joyous as he bounced through the dark growth, the serious undertone of the journey hidden under his blissful attitude.
The winged stallion slows down as his stature breaches the dark shadows of the forest, his eyes looming over the different species of flora, growing underneath the dark shadow of the trees. Smaller trees also decorated the forest floor, fighting for the right to gain access to the light, trying to breach the thick canopy that sheltered the forest floor.
As he walked quietly he began to pick up the scent of others, he wasn't alone while he was in there, something that both pleased him and made him nervous.
As he walked he also studied all the flowers that resided within the quiet forest, calmly swaying as his vibrant eyes loomed over them with a happy expression.
The stallion's larking gaze now changed direction to stare at the exit, a clear path that other horses had painted over the years as they passed through the forest. Rouhi gladly increased his speed as he cantered out of the forest, the bright light beaming at him viciously as his eyes fluttered, adjusting to the sudden change.
The enthused male's next stop would be Loess, he had never thoroughly visited this land, only scanned the borders of it or crossed for few reasons.
The stallion took his time to cross the vibrant landscape, an interesting change to the forest he had come from, the rocky hills and stunning greenery is a pleasant sight to his eyes, a bright and dynamic change.
The stallion pauses as he comes across a spring, his eyes studying the water quietly, the various scents of the area were already upon him, saltwater and freshwater mixing to create a rather weird taste of misty air. The stallion looks around as he studies the flora that decorates the land, a rather favourite pastime of his.
After his rather short break, the stallion begins to walk again, an active and buoyant walk accompanied by his attentive ears, searching for any inviting sounds that he may come across on his journey.
The stallion now increases his speed once more, not wanting to linger around and slow his journey any more than he already was, the sightseeing could wait, for now, he had a journey to complete.
After a rather long and tiring journey, the stallion is coming close to venturing into the brilliant pampas, his head turning invitingly to stare at Sylva which resided to the right of him, his eyes stared at the land, it came as a comely sight to Rouhi, a land perpetually stuck in time. He had heard so many things about the land, both good and bad.
He could not linger for long though and quickly reminding his straying mind to stay on course, his eyes slowly switching to stare at the Brilliant pampas, he had arrived.
The land was stunning, flora and lush grass decorating its sweet landscape, the scent of flowers rushing into his nostrils, it was extremely inviting, the beauty of it was heavenly, the stallion quickly rushing into the land to find what he was here for, searching the land in sweeps, looming over the lush grass with his deep neck in his search.
The stallion halted as he spotted a vibrant flower surrounded by smaller sub-species, growing high, reaching above all the tall grass. The curious male shifted his gaze, his body inching forward as he stared at the flower, his head tilted curiously.
The naive male approaches the flower with little to no caution, inhaling the sweet scent of the flower, breathing it in calmly, his head beginning to spin wildly out of control as he lifted himself away from the flower "Oh"
The male began to walk around slightly languidly, his steps rather clumsy and uncoordinated, his eyes spinning around the landscape, he tried to regain his posture, looking at the flower with a frown "Do you know the way to Brilliant Pampas?" the stallion chuckled as a hazy fog clouded his eyes, his legs trembling as he lightly fell to the ground, his smile expressed happily as his eyes fluttered, his body already loose on the ground as he began to snore, the sweet smell still residing in his lungs.
He had found his way at the top of the Mountain again, listening to their call this time and answering. Flowers, she needed flowers this time and they had to hurry. So he makes his way down the tricky paths of the Mountain. The more times he does this, the less the terror freezes him in his steps. The fear isn’t as intense and it doesn’t make him want to hide. Even when his hoof slips along the side and the rocks fall off the edge, well, he manages to push past the pause to keep going.
He crosses the River, his steps brisk, his pace long steady. He dodges and weaves amongst the tall trees of the Forest, remembering all the times that he had hidden. Loess was next and when he crosses the beautiful expanse of land, he continues on around the small outlet of water and once he steps into the Pampas he knows it.
He’s not sure how, maybe it’s the magic from the land being raised or maybe it’s from the quest but he knows. He walks into a large field, full of flowers. The smell is exquisite and he takes a long draw from one of them. Beautiful, it’s a deep red color and he takes another sniff. His head starts to spin after that last one, and his legs weaken.
He should lay down. Yeah, that’s what he should do. So he does and down here the smell is much more intense and before he knows it, his eyes are drooping.
Perhaps he should be worried, perhaps he should be afraid but in the end all he can do is fall asleep.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you
She had not answered the fae’s last call and the guilt has eaten away at her.
She’s felt it rubbing beneath the skin, a reminder that she had given up, that she had been selfish enough to stay in the warmth with her family instead of venturing outward and fighting for a cure again. But she does not have such luxuries this time. She does not have the excuse of a full, wonderful home to keep her from listening as they call upon them once more and although she is weary, although her very bones ache and she can feel the cold threatening, she doesn’t refuse. She simply unfurls her wings and takes to the mountain once more, landing and standing amongst the crowd, her green-gold eyes solemn.
When the tiniest of them moves forward, reassuring them, she dips her head, bolstered at least a little by the kind words. She tucks them away, the reminder, and turns her too-thin face to the horizon. Malca was safe and looked after, but she knew she had to hurry—she could not drag her time out forever.
So she doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t pick her way down the mountainside.
Instead she unfurls her wings again, grateful to have their assistance this time, and makes her way to the Pampas. To home, she thinks, although it doesn’t feel like that anymore. It hasn’t for a while.
The flight takes more out of her than it used to, and when she lands on the border, she is winded. She drags in a deep breath, her head dizzy and light, and feels a faint pinch of fear as she looks around for her once serpentine husband. Satisfied that he wasn’t here, that she was shielded from his attention for a while, she makes her way forward, her gaze caught by the reddest of flowers blooming.
She frowns, the expression gentle and creasing her lips, and drops her head.
Her nose extends and she breathes it in deep, feeling a weight settle in her chest. It doesn’t take long; perhaps in some ways she welcomes the darkness. Perhaps she clings to it. Perhaps she hungers for it.
Regardless, the darkness floods through her and her eyelashes flutter as her legs give out.
She falls to the ground with a sigh and blackness claims her.
He is unfamiliar with everything. His soul is white washed -- his history scalped clean -- his body rinsed and renewed (a different color, a different marking, but the same mortal mark on one side of his body -- youcan’tsee youcan’thear). He does not know where to go from here - he never knew (abandoned at birth - then Nera, oh Nera - swept back to the stars and the system of solar gods - back, back to Beqanna). He has no home, no one akin to him, no knowledge of how this world spins and turns and rolls.
He knows there is sickness. The heft of it’s stench roils his nose (something so relied on, with such sensory shortcomings). The coughing, the dripdripdrip of blood from nosemoutheyes, Death ready and waiting. He does not know how to change it (is it even something for him to change? He has nothing here in this world - no one, nothing to fight for.) Perhaps this all the more reason to etch a halt in the rapid spread of the plague. Others had things to give - to live for - to shirk in the safe havens, away from Death. But Godbear; Godbear would not be known - Godbear would not be missed should Death drive over him.
He heeds - following the whisper call to a land dense with flora (such a far cry from the cold, the salt crunch of the frozen meadow). The first blossoms - they must be found - a beacon of mending, the steps to cure this wrought-ridden land. He can do it - for there is not much else he is good for.
He follows - the fairy bright and light before him - Beqanna beckoning with a plea a bargain a beg. He can do it - he can, he will, he shall help willfully. He steps - head and ear swiveling (anything to catch the empty space on that right side) - he is met by a sea of swirling petal, falling drifting swimming towards him. Head spinning - stars screaming for him to sleepsleephushnow. Eyes closing (completely blind, now - left and right side even again), senses drifting to the scent of the wildblooms. Sleep sleep sleep they whisper.. And he will, oh he will, because he can..
the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night
Again the fairies called for him. Again, just as his body was finally beginning to answer his demands again. His limbs were only just starting to soften, and he’d just begun to look forward to the day when he could frolic with his new friend, legs finally mobile, finally his own again instead of claimed by stone in his shape, in his image.
There was urgency to the fairy’s call, need that swept through him and demanded he answer now, no matter the state of him. It reached into his chest and pulled, and he stumbled forward on still-stiff legs, groaning in protest. He needed to wait, to tell Ember where he was going. Maybe she could come with him and they could work together! But the fairies and his body had other ideas.
He called her name even as he stumbled away down one mountain and back toward The Mountain. And if tears streamed down his face at the thought of leaving her behind, at the thought of losing the only friend he’d ever known...well. There was no one to see them fall. No one to hear the way his heart cracked in his chest, fissures running through it as he tripped over himself trying to fight the call, just for a little while. Just long enough to say goodbye.
To no avail.
His shoulders slumped, his head hung low as he heeded the fairies’ call for the third time, even though he’d failed them so spectacularly last time. A new fairy stepped forward this time, small, looking young and floral and bright, pushing hope and purpose and urgency into his being even though somewhere inside the belly of the monster he’d lost all of his own. Hypnotic eyes and a child-like voice spurred him on, and he just nodded and turned to fulfill her request.
What else was there to do?
Might as well get it over with, so he could go back to Ember and explain.
The faster the better, then. He picked his way quickly down the Mountain on hooves still made of stone. Well. As quickly as he could manage when it was still just as damn tall as the first time he’d climbed it. Through the river once again, through the forest, and over the hilly terrain of Loess until he set foot in a new land, one he’d never seen before. He was on a hunt for flowers, red, white, yellow, pink, orange. So he reached for the first as quickly as he could--...and everything went dark as he fell to the ground, asleep.
I left, and that was the end of it. Spread my wings and flew the next. Metaphorically speaking, anyway, I definitely walked. But the idea was there. Anyway, I walked and I walked and walked some more! Lots of walking. I walked until I was fairly certain that I had made a mistake in leaving in the first place. I walked until the sky got a bit closer, and I stood on a mountainside, facing a little girl.
Little, but not young. Anyone with the eyes to see could tell that she had seen more with her youthful eyes than one could see in a single lifetime. She's lovely, and I feel kinship with the fey thing, with flowers in our manes and determination in our hearts. Things needed fixing? Very well, then. I had determined not to be like my mother, sitting passively and waiting for the world to come to me. I would sell out the world myself, and drink its nectar. I had taken the first step, and she was giving me the next ones.
The fey girl sends the gathered horses on their way, and I along with them. Flowers, like the morning glory vining wildly through my mane and tail. But colored more brilliantly, and filled with the power to save us. More walking, following the trails and spring blooming hedgerows until a new land spreads beneath my feet. Thick grasses twist against the paley feathered edges of my heels, sunrise only just beginning to paint the horizon with fingers dipped in blush and gold. As the light seeps across the valley, I can see them.
Flowers, thousands of them. In every brilliant color, I can see them nodding their heads in the dawn's light, raising their faces to the sun as they shed droplets of dew from their unfurling petals. The pale blooms adorning myself echoed the action, untwisting to face the rising sun.
It was amazing to watch a field of flowers ripple awake. By the time the sun reached my feet, waking the nearby blooms and releasing their delicate perfume, I had already inhaled too much to escape. As daintily as a falling leaf, my knees buckled and I dropped to a bed of waiting foliage, asleep before I hit the ground.
Wander does what Wander does best: wander away! To the Mountain that she’s heard so much talk of as of late. Her face fills with awe; it is every inch of magnificent as the murmurs have said as she slows to a walk. She’s just in time to see a small crowd gather before a fairy - an actual live fairy! So small and delicate, robes in flowers with eyes like two small suns - so bright and warm. Wander cannot look away; she’s entranced by the entreaty to go find Spring’s first blooms in a bevy of colors. Especially when she learns that they must look on her current homeland.
Excitement fills her, as does purpose. It is nice to have purpose, she thinks as the group disbanded and each went on their merry rushed way. Wander too, felt the need for haste and she ran down familiar paths that would speed her home safely and quickly. Her eyes look left and right for the familiar patches of flowers that are sure to be in bloom. She knows just where to collect one of each color: red, white, yellow, pink, and orange. Pteron and her have played many games amongst those flowers! Thinking of him and the flowers and the quest at hand, put a smile on her young face.
But as she skimmed over the Pampas like a bird in flight - only wingless and earth-bound, she plowed through another crop of flowers that she did not recognize. Petals and pollen flew into the air as she broke stems and blooms, causing a fragrance to rise up that tickled her nose. Wander began to sneeze until the sneezes became a series of yawns and her steps slowed. Eventually she just toppled over mid-stride amidst the powerful flowers that made her sleepy.
She didn’t even have time to protest between all the sneezing and yawning; just one little sleepy “Oh!” of surprise and then, Wander was snoring softly on a pillow of potent blooms and earth.
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