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Post by Vidar on Aug 3, 2018 21:14:33 GMT
[googlefont=Roboto][googlefont=Montserrat][googlefont=Open+Sans] [attr="class","vidar"] There was something wrong. Vidar could feel it like leeches sucking at his blood beneath his skin. It seemed to drain him of the power he had so tenderly been nurturing. It had been easy to see in the Dark Forest: the light of crystals had been dimming, trees had been dying, a fog was encroaching. Nothing he did could stop it. He knew he could heal. A week previously he had found a tree being destroyed by a black fungus that had nearly covered the trunk and visible roots, spreading toward the canopy with bleak inevitability. He had eliminated it. Touched his nose to the blackness and watched it slough away with ease. He longed to do the same to his heart. Alas, as far as he knew, one could be god over only one thing. At least, the only god he had met had introduced himself only as the God of Dreams. Could Morpheus also be a god of love? Perhaps that was why his heart and longed for him so desperately. It mattered not. He, Vidar, should concern himself only with nature. He had tarried too long in the Dark Forest, beguiled by its glowy crystals, but the new blight on the land had at last driven his paws into motion. No matter where he looked beneath the dense trees of the Dark Forest, he could find no probable cause for the strange disease. At last, he had left, drawn by the scent of unnatural death to this place, a place he had never been. Well, and so his wanderings lead him to obey Morpheus' quest. Had he known? Could that strange, violet horned god have known of the mist that would overtake the world? Could he have meant for Vidar to fix it? Perhaps that was it. Perhaps that was why Morpheus had been glad he lived. All for the power growing in his veins. No. No, he must not believe that. He must not be sucked into the darkness. Morpheus had been glad that was alive, not because of any special ability or fate, but merely because the god was of such high character that he saw worth even in something as worthless as Vidar. He must believe that. He must. A dark, rock-strewn beach spread before him. The day was late, the light failing. The monoliths that stood half-submerged in the water cast strange, flickering shadows across the dark waves. Water sprayed, thick with salt. Too much like blood. Why must everything lead back to death? A fog, the same fog that had invaded the Dark Forest, was creeping over the curling wave caps, coming ever closer to shore. White flags of spray rose above the dense bank, waving flags of surrender against the blight. It had spread here. Or began here. Vidar did not know. He felt no different here, still unsettled. He made his way down the beach until water, feeling unnaturally warm, lapped across his paws, drawn by an unseen moon. A snarled toupee of kelp floated in the water before him. It was dotted with the corpses of tiny crabs. Their empty armor rose from the tangled, wet strands like memorials to soldiers fallen on the field of valor. But who was the foe? Vidar longed to call for Morpheus. Surely that immortal being could shed some light on the problem. But what if Vidar's despairing thoughts were true? If Morpheus really was depending on him to fight against the blight, then asking for help would be admitting that he was too weak to rise to the challenge. Vidar could not stand to see disappointment fill his violet eyes. He must solve this. He must.
tags: open for anyone! for a quest, so you should get evo points! words: 617 notes: let's float some theories
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Post by Niamh on Aug 6, 2018 4:29:03 GMT
ISMENE NIAMH "A darkness has begun to spread over the land. I would have you investigate the cause. Return to me with your findings..."He had had kind eyes. Gentle, sweet eyes that crinkled when he smiled. So that had been Asta's Guide - how jealous Ismene was of the white witch! Gifted with a soft-voiced god whose smile seemed to light up the world, placing a tiny flame into an already-dark realm. His voice was low, the tone easily forgiving, easily kind. How she wished that Morpheus had been the one to greet her instead! But no, she had encountered Calliope, and so Calliope her guide was to be. The girl refused to dwell on that thought longer. Instead, she sought out the path to fulfilling Morpheus' quest - from the place they had met, he had directed her on a long journey to traverse all lands in the mortal realm Calliope described. The effects of the sickness were not lost on her - alone and young, it had already claimed some semblance of dominance on her. A slight pang pulled at her breast, constantly. It was as if something were eating away at whatever it was inside her. It had barely been days. Where had the time gone? She walked, and she walked, and she walked. Landscapes passed her by. Different trees and flowers and mountains and rivers and whatnot; there was always a boundary, always a line drawn to where one place would end and another began. What would it be like to walk forever and not find the end of something? But the time-sense in her told her that was impossible; all things would fade. Ismene did not know if gods could die. Perhaps this was a cruel way of bringing about the end of all things. Perhaps it was destined to happen, not the result of a fickle god's whims. For if not even the horned guide knew the reason for it, then how could it be a game? It was a blight... An unheard of blight. Stony outcroppings came into view. Amongst them stood a wolf so slender and grey he almost blended into the surroundings. His eyes were insignificant - in fact, everything about him was so normal that he stood out from everything else, everything in all its magical intensity. A lulling sense of comfort overcame her; this beacon of normality in a sea of new things, new faces, new lonely places. But the closer she got, the more she began to feel the dredges of divinity leaking from his skin. His was a stronger presence than Asta's, than Farstride's, but weaker than Quartz's. A semi-god then? Apprehensive, she took slower steps towards the lone figure. He stood like a stalwart guardian, solitary in his musing. Would he be another wary encounter? Ismene huffed to announce her presence. She did not really want to speak - how well had that gone, the last time? "" OOC: Blep, a reply for you |
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Post by Vidar on Aug 6, 2018 4:55:53 GMT
[googlefont=Roboto][googlefont=Montserrat][googlefont=Open+Sans] [attr="class","vidar"] Vidar was looking trimmer these days. Purposeful travel had reminded him of long-forgotten habits. Vidar had traveled on the road as a storyteller and singer for 3 years. He knew well how to care for himself and his coat on the road, how to catch small game and supplement his diet with berries. The last was even easier now that he could grow plants at a thought. There were no longer snarls throughout his entire coat, although a few stubborn dreadlocks did mar the plume of his tail. He had also started foraging for meat. It seemed more difficult now. Did the pups in the field mouse dens he dug up scream for their mother? Were their squirrel kits despairing that their mother would never come home? A doe rabbit, heartbroken, for her mate has been eaten by a wolf? It tore at him. And yet. Leaves fall from a branch in the forest. They die but nourish the earth. A pack takes prey to survive. They also feed the ravens, the coyotes, the wolverines, and the mushrooms. Flies, beetles, vultures - all of them survive on death. Does a mother produce milk without blood? Never. Death was natural, it was true. So why did these new deaths feel so wrong? The fog was strange, it was true. Just last month had been midsummer. The sun should have still been hot enough to burn away the befouling fog. Now, where had that come from? How could a fog be dirty, let alone make something else unclean? It seemed impossible. Impossible! As if he wasn't living in a realm of magic, as if he had not spoken to a god! Nothing seemed impossible in this realm. His gold eyes narrowed as he stared down at the tangle of kelp. Blackness dotted it, apparent kin to the black mold he had been unable to prevent from killing the tree. The same blackness was visible on the excavated exoskeletons of the small crabs. Some kind of disease? What kind of pathogen could infect a hardwood, kelp, and crabs? Another thing that didn't seem possible. Vidar added it to the list. A small exhalation of air behind him made his skin tingle. The leeches that had ridden him since the fog began readjusted themselves, their slick, slimy bodies squelching unpleasantly beneath his skin. Was it the fog? Ridiculous. Or.. some embodiment of the fog, Morpheus seemed to be the god of dreams? A god of death or destruction, perhaps? Spreading his malevolence willy-nilly across the lands, as if they were his to besmirch. Death that should not have been. Like Berry's. Vidar turned slowly to meet the wolf. Who knew what kind of powers they might have. Offensively, his powers were limited. He could create life, but not command it. He could heal life, but not harm it. Useless, always useless. Even if he had been there when Berry was killed by the Bear, would he have been able to do anything? Worthless, worthless, worthless, what else could he be? A thin wolf stood behind him. She was small in stature, but her body was oddly stretched out of proportion, with her legs far too long for her body. Silver eyes seemed to glow against the blackness of her coat. Black coat, blackness spreading, coincidence? Vidar rather suspect not. Still, the girl seemed to be little more than a child. He would not like to think that one as young and hard-pressed as she would be responsible for the widespread damage. HIs voice had the rough sweetness of whiskey as he asked, "Tell me, what do you know about the blight that is spreading?" Abrupt, assuredly, but he found he had no patience for small talk and introductions. The leeches sucked vigorously at his very being. It seemed as if the world were at stake. Berry always had called him dramatic. But was this drama? he was hardly in hysterics, after all, and there was a mysterious, apparently evil, fog loose in a world that seemed comprised in large part by magic. Only a stone wouldn't be concerned. tags: Niamh words: 689 notes: here, have some blatant predjudice
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2 likes
53 posts
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Post by Niamh on Aug 13, 2018 2:23:18 GMT
ISMENE NIAMH She stared, as most wolves would. Or perhaps they would not. He was a mottled grey-brown-cream; his eyes were unremarkable, his build, stringy. Perhaps stringy was the wrong word to describe it - he simply looked fit, fitter than she was, at least, and decidedly better-proportioned too. An actual wolf, sturdy on his lean limbs. Was she staring? Too long? Social etiquette eluded her; Ismene turned her stark gaze away, briefly, looking awkwardly at the rocks that surrounded them both. She shifted; under his scrutiny, a chill snaked down her back and left her through the tail. He had that pressing aura about him, intense and instant and wholly present. It unnerved her. "Tell me, what do you know about the blight that is spreading?"As much as you do, she wanted to say. He was asking her, a child, a yearling, an adolescent who had only just entered this realm to be struck with a bout of goodness knows what. It felt as if the world conspired against her (how arrogant) but could one fault any wolf for thinking as such? Of course, she was but a variable in the large equation of this world; who knew what manner of things were brewing over the horizon? Could he... fault her if she only told him one word? She didn't want to talk. She'd been wanting to talk less and less. Perhaps it were the recent encounters, the quest, the scarred white wolf, or perhaps it was merely the harrowing inevitability of having all of time to talk and no words left when those years came. "Nothing." Isme tilted her head slightly at the wolf. He looked taller than her, even from a distance. She shuddered and shifted slightly again. Her paws sent a few small stones cluttering downwards before they hit larger rocks and were halted. Omissions are still lies. I didn't omit anything!"What do you?""" OOC: Vidar crummy post :-( |
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Post by Deleted on Aug 17, 2018 12:11:49 GMT
First the spirit creatures, then the annoying curses, and now this. Quartz was not in the best of moods as she surveyed the beach – the land she’d first appeared in at the start of everything. What had been a peaceful strip of sand separating the bulk of the land from the endless expanse of water was now something intimidating. There was the fog that seemed to be slowly choking everything and corrupting all the life it touched. She’d found that she could restore things a bit with her presence, but she wasn’t sure how to make that last, or how to completely eliminate the problem. God of Life or not, she certainly couldn’t do this alone, even if it was her responsibility to try.
Voices caught her attention and she headed that way. If there was trouble, it was always best to be part of a group. It didn’t take too long to spot the other two wolves – one unfamiliar and one she vaguely knew from a previous encounter. She stepped forward, though she maintained a polite distance. Her posture was almost neutral, though she kept her ears perked and alert and her head held high. She didn’t want a fight, but she was a god among mortals. Submitting to these two would be ridiculous, even if the unfamiliar wolf seemed close to godhood in his own right.
She’d missed what had been said so far, but there was a good chance it concerned the state of the environment. What else would there be to talk about when they were surrounded by this much corruption and needless death? She hadn’t missed the sight of the crabs, and of other small creatures poisoned by the fog itself or its after effects. It was something beyond sickening.
She didn’t feel right interrupting their conversation yet, so she looked around, casting her power out around her to identify any other lives that might be present. If there were other wolves nearby, it might be good to gather them together. This effected all of them, so it was only fitting that all of them worked together to stop it.
If only that were possible.
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