Eternal
Information
summer, year 3
Thick ice and continuously falling snow blanket the entirety of Eternal, brought upon by Noc's wrath. Shelter is scarce, and food even scarcer. There is no climate or biome that was lucky enough to find themselves safe from the beginnings of the Ice Age and so the residents of Eternal must don their primal survival instincts and to just that ─ survive. Ice blockages have grown supernaturally between the islands, blocking Sunsteppe from Sol and Eventide from Noc, effectively trapping each islander on whichever island they currently stand. The Dragonfrost and dusk leopards from Gleamleaf and greater boreus deer from Mountainfade have seeped into all of Noc, Eventide's spectors and Sunsteppe's sculptors have overrun the central island, and the wolves, Ice Piskys, and Creeping Thistle have invaded all of Sol.
OOC announcements
10.12.18 Noc has descended from the stars, and the reunion with his children, the three deities, is anything but happy. The whole of Eternal has been plunged into an Ice Age, and it seems that, for now, it's up to the deities to restore the islands. Will they be able to do so quickly enough? Or will the residents of Eternal know suffering because of the mishaps spread between Helios, Imbris, and Aya? For now, ice blockages have been erected between the islands, meaning that everyone is stuck where they currently are. Where is your character? Tell us here.

10.4.18 What?! An October raffle?!?!

9.22.18 Be sure to check out our gorgeous new map, complete with clickable links to your favorite territories!

8.4.18 Welcome to Winter, as Year 2 draws to a close! OTY Nominations will be up in a day or two ─ while we wait, please check out the Movie Night survey that was linked in our Discord!

7.28.18: Congratulations to the newest members of our team, our moderators Berb and Witty! Thank you so much to everyone who applied - we appreciate every single one of you.

7.24.18: The staff of Eternal are looking for their first MODERATOR! If you'd like to become a part of our team, click here to apply!

7.14.18 Round Two of the To Lands of Old Quest has been posted! Participants have until 11:59PM EST on July 28 to complete their rapid-fire old school battle posts. The information thread can be found >here!

7.1.18 Round One of the To Lands of Old quest can be found right here! Participants have until the night of the 8th to respond!

7.1.18: Welcome to version two: The Wreckage! Aya, Helios and Imbris have all created a beautiful sanctuary in which the characters we all know and love can come by to pay their respects, to place offerings, and seek counsel with the elusive deities. Furthermore, the database has been updated to reflect each level of an ability, the profiles have been given a complete overhaul, and our new layout is more streamlined than ever!

IC announcements
10.12.18 Noc has descended from the stars, and the reunion with his children, the three deities, is anything but happy. The whole of Eternal has been plunged into an Ice Age, and it seems that, for now, it's up to the deities to restore the islands. Will they be able to do so quickly enough? Or will the residents of Eternal know suffering because of the mishaps spread between Helios, Imbris, and Aya? For now, ice blockages have been erected between the islands, meaning that everyone is stuck where they currently are. Where is your character? Tell us here.

10.4.18 Whatever unknown thing that invaded the southern territories in the middle of spring has snaked its icy fingers out and enveloped those remaining territories that everyone had believed (or hoped) to be safe. Wolves, Creeping Thistle, Pesky Piskys, Blackrock's river... Not even Sunsteppe is safe from the intrusion, though it appears -- at least for now -- that the Wreckage remains untouched. Perhaps it should be investigated?

9.17.18 Something isn't right. Eternal still refuses to warm, even as we progress through spring and near summer. The southernmost territories have begun to notice some changes: from Greater Boreus Deer in Mountainfade, to Dragonfrost in Gleamleaf; frozen sandstorms in Astraldune, and even icy wraiths in Eventide. What happened? And what can be done to return the islands to normal?

9.2.18 Springtime has come, but the frigid winter still remains, enveloping the three islands in ice, snow and brutal wind. There are no flowers, nor grass - no foliage at all. The animals are beginning to suffer, as they emerge from hibernation or birth their young, struggling to find sustenance. The air is thick with tension, as a wretched and unforgiving storm brews still in the distance - will Eternal find reprieve from the cold?

8.4.18 Round Three of the To Lands of Old quest has been posted! The remaining participants have one week to get their posts in. Good luck and have fun!

7.27.18 Astraldune is under new leadership! In the wake of Solomon's disappearance, Helios has placed Gryffen into leadership!

6.26.18 Helios has appeared in Sunsteppe! What could he be doing there?

6.19.18 With magic from Imbris, Totem has been gifted with a daughter of her own, molded from clay and infused with a piece of her own soul. Make sure to check out the thread here!

6.1.18: Welcome to Summer!

5.26.18: The Grotto has been unveiled! Imbris paid a visit to Nymphetamine in Prismacove and led him on an underwater adventure to the Grotto, effectively creating a new sub-board for the residents of Prismacove to explore!

Character of the Year:
LELL
Couple of the Year:
HADERUS & GYPSY
Thread of the Year:
ASTRALDUNE TAKEOVER
[PLOT] PHASE ONE: ICY GLOOM
Administrator

16 Posts
13 Threads
GENDER:
**
AGE:
x
SPECIES:
ORIENTATION:
DOMICILE:
Homeless
ABILITIES:
PLAYED BY:
x
#1
Random Event

PHASE ONE: ICY GLOOM

There is a Divide between this world and the next.

For many, many millennia in Eternal, it has remained unbroken, as it should be.

But as the temperatures drop, causing a chain of events across the land, so too does this in-between grow unstable. The massive, strange cold spell rips rifts in the Divide. At first, it might go unnoticed ‒ patches of deep, dark cold exhaled in thin streams from the other side, hanging in the air around the shoreline. You might pass through, with perhaps only a cursory frown or glance over the shoulder. You leave with a feeling of otherworldliness, crawling like graveworms over the skin.

And then, one day, across the seething grey waves of the ocean, a great, thick fog rises like steam ‒ only, when it drifts inland, the iciness of it is shocking. As it settles over the cracked cliff sides and tidal pools of Eventide, everything seems to grow… sorrowful. Cold ‒ but not just a feeling on the skin. A deep kind of chill, one that wracks body and soul. Now and then, one has the feeling of passing through… something… and it feels like being touched inside and out. As the hours go on, the fog grows thicker, reducing visibility to a couple feet.

The atmosphere grows heavy. Sadder.

Until, from this eldritch gloom, things begin to awaken ‒ to take form from the formlessness. These are souls from the ocean’s depth ‒ drowned children; women who have thrown themselves of cliff sides; men perished at sea, far away from their families ‒ the first rift to crack under the weight of the water and the chill. They are not fully corporeal, these Frost Wraiths have a skin of icy mist, like a blizzard held in horse form. Peeking beneath that squall are skeletons of ice, and eyes of bright blue held in strange sockets. They drift in and out of vision, slipping in and in-between. They can be hard to pin down, many are skittish and will only communicate if allowed to make the approach themselves. Others will attack unprovoked and very suddenly.

Some of these wraiths are friendly.
Some of them are sad, lost souls.
Some of them are bitter, angry specters, capable of physical damage.

Be careful, and try not to lose yourself in The Gloom.


THE GUIDELINES:
- You may reply to this thread or begin your own.
- Threads that begin on or after September 16th utilizing the [PLOT] tag and involving this prompt will qualify for extra points! Participants will be awarded 5 extra points for these threads.
- These threads must reach at least 3 posts for each participant.
- Links to completed threads must be posted on Updates board to redeem.
- There is no limit on the number of threads a character can participate in with the [PLOT] tag.
- A prize awaits the top 3 posters that participate in these prompts.
- The last day that a thread can be started with the [PLOT] tag to qualify for the extra points is October 1st.
Reply

47 Posts
11 Threads
GENDER:
Male
AGE:
2
SPECIES:
ORIENTATION:
DOMICILE:
Homeless
ABILITIES:
Illusionism
[T1 - Intermediate]
Spectral Armor
[T3]
PLAYED BY:
Diryn
#2
You stand at my grave
Already breaking ground
But I'm not dead yet

Among the first to bear witness to the tears in reality was one whose reality had always been torn. The skin-crawling wrongness of the world was nothing new to Lost, and served no deterrent to his wanderings. The ghostly, ethereal shadows that loomed in the mist were as close to his kin as those of flesh and blood. Perhaps closer. He paid them no more or less curiosity than the usual spectres at the corners of his vision.

The world seemed to shimmer with heat-haze, paradoxically chilled yet boiling air in unnatural portents. Great translucent polygons, whose angles added up to far too many degrees to coincide with physical law. Only because his own mind was as fractured as reality did they not turn his stomach with their abhorrence.

Gingerly he stepped through one, sniffing to the left and right as the world mis-aligned itself by a fraction of a degree around him. The angle of the horizon seemed slightly off, gravity pulled ever so slightly in the wrong direction, and a deep-set chill began in his bones and spread outward. Looking over his shoulder, he could no longer make out the shape of the unreal archway through which he had stepped, and a thin fog rose up from the ground as though the cold were driving the essence from the earth itself; a great exhalation of deathly omniscence. It rose and rose, like a slow flood, and Lost subconsciously held his breath as it rose above his head.

As it did, a flash of memory rippled across his mind. A splash of cold water rushing past his ears, inky-black in the night. The helpless sensation of being held below, struggling with infantile muscles too weak to resist the hoof on the back of his head holding him below. Low voices full of disgust and disdain, blurred by the sound of rushing stream-water. The final moment of fear before his lungs betrayed him and gulped the water inside.

The blackness.

With a shudder, Lost returned to the present, though his face remained soaked with icy water. His lungs erupted water as he struggled for air, burning his throat and chest with the cold sensation of needles.

With a start, he saw a colt standing before him. A perfect mirror of himself, black eyes and waterlogged features looking into his own. Yet, it was imperfect. No breath was drawn through its nostrils, and its flanks did not heave with the motion of breathing. When Lost flinched, his doppelganger remained still.

Still the fog thickened, and even though the apparition was mere inches away, it faded away in the mist.

He was alone again.

Lost
Intermediate Illusionist, Stunted Growth, Schizophrenia

Lost lives in a haze of hallucinations.Those who linger too close will  be unsettled and increasingly affected by his delusions.
Reply
the skald

8 Posts
3 Threads
GENDER:
Mare
AGE:
6
SPECIES:
ORIENTATION:
DOMICILE:
Homeless
ABILITIES:
Retrocognition
[T1 - Beginner]
PLAYED BY:
Berb
#3

I have heard it told in olden tales,
how a maiden came to Morningland

‘Cawwww.’
The sudden, shrill sound makes her jerk her head up, a tattered gasp slipping past her lips. He, in turn, opens his black wings wide, flapping torrents of air and feathers against her head, to stay balanced. ‘C-c-cawww!’ She mutters something between ‘sorry’ and ‘stop!’ under her breath as she holds still for him, dumb eyes peering out into utter blackness. He settles indignantly between her stubby ears, talons gripping her forelock ‒ then, with deliberate slowness, he opens the third eye on his forehead, and she makes a sound of thanks from her throat, choked as it may be, for what she sees is unnerving, at best.

Grim had been away when the fog rolled in, stretching his wings, leaving her sightless and alone; 
(Calyndar must have been nearby… right? When did we get separated?)
She could feel it long before it got here, as it drifted from underwater rifts, dragging across sandy beaches like a frayed dress of lace and despair. Her senseless, milky eyes twisted and turned in their sockets, head snaking to face the coming of the otherworld. She does not fear this in-between, she lived in it for many years ‒ still often yearns for that filament of broken time, the way it brought her under, to a place of solitude and somber reflection.

But it isn’t supposed to seep like this. She and Grim blink in unison, the eldritch fog pressing uncomfortably up against her eyes ‒ it feels heavy, like a cloak or water. Or hands, all over her, feeling for the soft places under her belly and groin; winding into her soul, ferreting out the good that clings to her ribs. Flowers and sunlight, twisted around the lattice of her body. She can feel it withering. She shivers and Grim makes a soft sound ‒ she cannot tell if it is to soothe her, himself, or both of them.

A shadow passes in the fog, too far away ‒ so formless, shifting and swaying; darker grey against grey. She follows it, steps quickening. She doesn't even notice the brain-splitting chatter of her teeth nor the raised goose pimples all over her body. She hopes it is Calyndar; another hot, living person; a specter, whose history she may dive into like a warm pond. “H-hey!” the sound of her own voice has a strange, distant, dismal quality. There is no echo, the Gloom muffles it against her pink lips. 

It is gone.

She slows down, continues to walk at the almost painful cold locks up in her joints. “Hello?” she calls out, into the strange, closed universe. It occurs to her just then, as she meanders and hopes against hope to bump into her big companion, that this is so dangerously like the Passage in Caeleste. A mire. A tangle, from which she may never escape. Something brushes her shoulder, turning her course. Without thinking, glancing numbly back the way she came, she walks on. 

She comes to him, like a landmark, or fork in the road and stops. Her jaw works, back and forth, in thought, her pale, dead eyes rolling. “Oh.” She tones softly, watching as the world begins to unravel.

@ Lost

- EDDA THE SKALD
IMAGE BY ENFANIR
Reply

47 Posts
11 Threads
GENDER:
Male
AGE:
2
SPECIES:
ORIENTATION:
DOMICILE:
Homeless
ABILITIES:
Illusionism
[T1 - Intermediate]
Spectral Armor
[T3]
PLAYED BY:
Diryn
#4
You stand at my grave
Already breaking ground
But I'm not dead yet

Time was as constant as all the other aspects of reality in the fog; that is to say, it was not at all. He wasn't sure the first time he heard her voice calling out to him. Perhaps it wasn't until after he saw her, or maybe he never saw her at all. Maybe she never spoke, and her call was just imagined.

He was fairly sure the voice he'd heard was behind him, but when he came upon her, her visage was at his front. A stocky white mare, near perfectly camouflaged in the gloom. Her eyes were milky and sightless, but still somehow locked upon him.

He stopped and stared back. So many images had appeared in this mist and disappeared as quickly, but she remained, and she stared, jaw working with nervous impulses as she did.

There was something strange about the way she looked at him. She stared at him with not two eyes, but five, five eyes which blinked in unison and didn't see the same things, nor belong to the same body, but the same mind. In a way Lost could never truly grasp, she likely saw the world in much the same way he did; reality and unreality meshed together, even outside the strangeness of the gloom.

After an eternity, he took a step towards to her only to pause, started, as a shrill c'aaaaaw split the silence as though warding him away. He realized it wasn't her, but the notion confused him. His eyes could see the broody bird atop her head, but mentally couldn't distinguish it from her. Of course it was part of her, how could it not be?

The air flickered around them as silence took its toll on the moment. His mouth opened, but no words came forth. What was there to say?

Lost


@ Edda
Intermediate Illusionist, Stunted Growth, Schizophrenia

Lost lives in a haze of hallucinations.Those who linger too close will  be unsettled and increasingly affected by his delusions.
Reply


Forum Jump:


Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)
Caeleste - Fantasy Equine RPG the Rift
Baraenor, Lion RP Top Equine Roleplay Games
Original coding base by Gotham's Reckoning at Necessary Evil. Subsequent coding by Krys.
Powered By MyBB, © 2002-2018 MyBB Group. Territory images are from Unsplash. Header by onefinalkissx.