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  WeatherWandering Waterspouts.
  11/01/2021

Updates
August 03, 2021:All the oceans seem shallower and the clouds overhead have started to grow darker by the day. Whenever the wind quickens up to howling it carries with it the taste of brine. Sandpipers have started to build their nests deeper, and deeper, into the forests and moors (deep enough that perhaps the horses of the bamboo grove have started to worry at the loudness of their nesting). And at first there are only these changes to mark the passing of the meteor showers….

But then the wind grows pregnant and silent as if the entire world has forgotten how to exhale. It’s in that moment that the roaring starts and the taste of brine grows thick enough to choke. Then it’s best to run far and fast for when the first waterspout lands there are always more racing in close behind.

These waterspouts are black as the sea and carry in them equal amounts of stardust and debris. They follow no oceanic rules and spread their reign of terror through the thickest of forests and the highest of ridges. Even the sunniest of mornings cannot chase away the promise of them that constantly lingers right beyond the horizon.

Beware, the elders have begun to warn, the draining seas.

And perhaps after hearing that you start to wonder what the waterspouts are harbingers of.

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July 16, 2021: Auditions are now open for the Northern Tribe Leader! If you're interested please head on over to the event post and check it out (see link on the right). All characters, even pending characters, are welcome to apply. There is even a +1 EXP bonus just for applying. Auditions will close on July 31st @ 11:59 PM EST.

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June 03, 2021: It seems that the water-horse, although gone, is not done leaving their mark on this world. Rumors have started to spread of wishes beings granted by those who whisper their secrets to the waters. Horses have started to flock to the area and shrines have started to bloom like flowers along the shoreline. But has anyone thought to ask, Where did the water-horse come from?. Read more about the Wellsprings here!

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May 01, 2021: The nights grow longer and longer, and in time the days and their endless heats and raging embers begin to relent at last. The sun gives way to the moon, the solar flares to the glitter of endless stars stretched out across a midnight sky. A bruise-blue so deep and profound, tones of purple, and green, and black seem to hide within its embrace.

For a moment, only a moment, it is perfectly still and dark.

But oh! how that darkness is broken up by an explosion of light so bright, so filled with color, it is as though the sun has come crashing back! The meteor falls, and falls, and falls, and perhaps later you might come across the broken remains of it, shattered upon the earth. Perhaps the second is quick to follow, chasing on its brother’s heels like it, too, can’t wait to find a new world. All the night long, meteors dance like wild things across the night sky, a kaleidoscope of colors stretching like streaming cloaks in their wake.

Each morning the sun still rises, sun chasing moon chasing sun in their eternal cycle. In comparison the days are blessedly dull, full of spring warmth and flowers —

but compared to the grandeur of the long nights keeping everyone awake, the spring sunshine begins to seem like only a safe place to rest.

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April 10, 2021: Here even the waterfalls hold both magic and secrets in them. Are you brave enough to explore?

Our first multi-event plot has begun with a pretty amazing prize up for grabs at the end of it. We've also launched a quick one reply event to run along side it for those who prefer a faster event with a raffle prize. All characters may participate in both events. Click the links on the right to check out the events!

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March 13, 2021: Our first event for our official open is underway as well as the first round of tribe leader auditions! Check out the links to the right for more information. All IC events will close on April 13th at 11:59pm EST.

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Feb. 12, 2021: The weather seems to leave behind some strange things....

Welcome to our first round of IC Events! Each board has its own event and all characters are welcome to post to all of them! However for this round each character may only claim a single event for +1 EXP. Each event has the option to roll for other bonuses (or negative effects). If you want a chance roll please make sure to list Roll please! at the end of your post. The events are listed below!

-> Deadly Meadows, Lightning Plains, Thunder Tundra, City of Amber & Hidden Paradise <-

All events will close Feb. 26th so be sure to get your reponses in! If you have any questions just ping us on the ask-staff channel on Discord!

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Jan. 29, 2021: The sun (or is it suns?) have sunk through the cosmos to sit near the atmosphere of this world. Even when the day sinks below the horizon there is little salvation from the heat. The only respite can be found in belly-deep (or bottom-deep) in the seas or in the caves sprinkled across all the lands. The nights are balmy at best and each night there seems a deeper shade of madness settling over the horses here.

The demonics have started to feel themselves tiring faster, and faster, in the daytime. The celestials rejoice as kaleidoscope colors of solar flares paint the noon clouds rose golds, purples, and a blue dark enough to be a bruise.

But the real danger of this endless heat is the rain that falls where spring rain might have once (in another dimension made less of dreamstuff). Here the rain is not made of water but of embers so hot that they might look like snow falling out of season. They burn out quickly the moment they fall to the ground and perhaps, if nothing else, there is a blessing in that. Even a fleeting pain is still pain.
Featured Events
    Monsters and Magic
        – Face off a wild Gorgon
    The Wellsprings (August Edition-coming soon!)
        – Do you dare make an offering or wish at the Wellsprings?
    The Sacred Tree
        – Visit the Western Tribe's capitol
    Southern Tribe Activity Contest
        – Help improve activity for points!
    A Window to the Heavens
        – Gather at the observatory to look up at the heavens and map the stars.
Updates
August 03, 2021: The weather patten on Khiyaal has changed. Not only does this 'season' bring with it a new sent of dangers but some new lands have been spotted through various doorways. For the next three months it might be wise to keep an eye on the sky and be ready to run. These waterspouts are as terrifying as they are wondrous to behold.

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June 15, 2021: We have hit 1,000 posts on Khiyaal!! We are blown away and so so proud ;_; We can't thank you all enough for being amazing humans and helping us grow this lovely community here <3 As a small thank you, claim a little gift here!

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May 01, 2021: It's a new season on Khiyaal, and with it comes a new weather description and the addition of new lands! For the next three months meteor showers can be seen across the world each night (and the nights seem endlessly long, the sunrise only a short break from the darkness.)

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April 16, 2021: Hello all! We recently had some leadership auditions posted that didn't seem to gather a ton of interest. We'd love to know your concerns about leadership, ideas, goals, etc. Feel free to post any comments in the #feedback channel of our Discord or post anonymously through this feedback form. Please don't feel like there is anything you cannot say! This will help up us evolve the positions and game to better suit what it is that you are all looking for. Thank you ahead of time!

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April 4, 2021: Six eggs have been hidden throughout the site. If you find them all, you could earn a prize! Read more here!

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March 31, 2021: We have added some new bonuses to our Tribe Leader auditions! Your character will earn +1 EXP just for applying and then if they're picked for leader, they will earn an additional +10 EXP. We'd love to have your character try out, so go check out the auditions thread (linked above)!

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March 13, 2021: As of today, Khiyaal is officially open! We have a few things in store for you all, so make sure to check out the links to the right as well as the "World News" tab for some IC events. The advertising contest and IC events will all close by April 13th at 11:59pm EST. Welcome everyone and we're so excited to have you here!

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March 4, 2021: Our official layout is now live thanks to Cryptic-Widow! We hope you all enjoy it <3 Please take a look around and let us know what you think, as well as if you find any bugs/glitches. If you do find anything that needs some attention, feel free to post here or in our Discord server in the #ask-staff channel.

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Feb. 23, 2021: Just a small update to let you all know we have extended the deadline for the current IC events. Now you all have until March 5th to make your reply/replies! Links to the events can be found in the IC news section to the right or on our Discord server in the IC news channel.

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Feb. 4, 2021: Hello all! We are nearing one week since opening for this soft open and we're glad you all have enjoyed the content so far <3

The Staff team have decided to utilize this time as a true beta test, so we would love to get some more constructive feedback to help develop the site further. Read more about this here.

We've also decided to do a small bit of advertising to gather more "beta testers", so feel free to advertise on DA if you would like to spread the word about us. (See our advertisement here)

(Also…. we're looking to shake things up a bit, so stay tuned for some surprises!)

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Jan. 29, 2021: Welcome to our soft open of Khiyaal! We are so excited to have you all here at last <3 Our current layout is temporary until our official one is finished by March, so stay tuned for more updates on that and our official opening! For now, feel free to read through everything and start working on your characters and plots.

Currently we have Culture creation open and we are accepting applications for our Creative Team. If you spot any bugs or have any questions at all, feel free to reach out to the Staff!
Featured Events
    Creative Team Applications
        – Love writing and brainstorming sitewide events? Apply for our Creative Team!

Important site updates, open auditions, request threads and supplemental information can be found here.

More: Culture Lore, Update Requests, Redemptions
Exploration Point Redempt... – by Lauren
07-05-2021, 12:09 PM
Important site updates, open auditions, request threads and supplemental information can be found here.

More: Culture Lore, Update Requests, Redemptions
Exploration Point Redempt... – by Lauren
07-05-2021, 12:09 PM
Submit character applications for Staff approval within this board. Please make sure to read the guidebook and ensure all profile requirements are met before posting a thread.

More: Accepted, Inactive
Hektor – by Lauren
06-29-2021, 09:05 PM
Submit character applications for Staff approval within this board. Please make sure to read the guidebook and ensure all profile requirements are met before posting a thread.

More: Accepted, Inactive
Hektor – by Lauren
06-29-2021, 09:05 PM
This is the place for everything character related such as character logs, plot threads and adopts.

More: Logs, Plots, Adopts
hollowed & hallowed | Era... – by Erasmus
Yesterday, 10:35 AM
This is the place for everything character related such as character logs, plot threads and adopts.

More: Logs, Plots, Adopts
hollowed & hallowed | Era... – by Erasmus
Yesterday, 10:35 AM
A general board for introductions, art and more.

More: Introductions, Absences
Oh hi! – by Lauren
01-31-2021, 09:13 AM
A general board for introductions, art and more.

More: Introductions, Absences
Oh hi! – by Lauren
01-31-2021, 09:13 AM
If you'd like to advertise your own RPG or are linking back to one of our advertisements, post here. Any inappropriate/overly mature content will be removed immediately. Password is: advertise
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If you'd like to advertise your own RPG or are linking back to one of our advertisements, post here. Any inappropriate/overly mature content will be removed immediately. Password is: advertise
-
All old/inactive threads from various boards can be found here.

More: OOC, Common Lands, North, East, South, West
Northern Tribe Leader Aud... – by Erasmus
07-29-2021, 01:12 PM
All old/inactive threads from various boards can be found here.

More: OOC, Common Lands, North, East, South, West
Northern Tribe Leader Aud... – by Erasmus
07-29-2021, 01:12 PM

If there is any land that looks like a stronghold in this wild world it is these meadows. Around the forests and meadows there are mountains sharp as swords at their peaks. They tower like protectors keeping the sea far, far from this bright world. But perhaps, if a horse turns their head at the right angle, it becomes apparent that the mountains might be protecting the world from the possibility of the foliage here spreading like a sickness.

There are few things in this place that are not as deadly as they are beautiful. A royal blue poppy might blind and a cluster of pines might shed shards of glass instead of needles and pine cones. The fragrant perfume of a rose might ensnare and the pollen carried by a sparrow and a bumblebee might carry poison instead of life or seed. For those clever enough to harness the dangers of this place, it is a utopia of war instead of beauty. The effects of flower and pine always wear off after some time but surely any amount of agony is enough to breed caution.

The herds of animals that scatter through this palace are as strange and beautiful as the foliage. If they have horns that are made out of gemstones and metals. Their tails are roots and weeds that keep the flies from their hides. Their eyes are nothing less than small suns caught in their gazes that seem to endlessly look up, up, up. Sometimes it seems that they do not notice the horses moving among them. It is enough of a reason for even the most courageous of horses to turn the other way when a herd of not-elk come lumbering through the hills.
sugar and the mint – by Elena
07-18-2021, 02:56 PM
If there is any land that looks like a stronghold in this wild world it is these meadows. Around the forests and meadows there are mountains sharp as swords at their peaks. They tower like protectors keeping the sea far, far from this bright world. But perhaps, if a horse turns their head at the right angle, it becomes apparent that the mountains might be protecting the world from the possibility of the foliage here spreading like a sickness.

There are few things in this place that are not as deadly as they are beautiful. A royal blue poppy might blind and a cluster of pines might shed shards of glass instead of needles and pine cones. The fragrant perfume of a rose might ensnare and the pollen carried by a sparrow and a bumblebee might carry poison instead of life or seed. For those clever enough to harness the dangers of this place, it is a utopia of war instead of beauty. The effects of flower and pine always wear off after some time but surely any amount of agony is enough to breed caution.

The herds of animals that scatter through this palace are as strange and beautiful as the foliage. If they have horns that are made out of gemstones and metals. Their tails are roots and weeds that keep the flies from their hides. Their eyes are nothing less than small suns caught in their gazes that seem to endlessly look up, up, up. Sometimes it seems that they do not notice the horses moving among them. It is enough of a reason for even the most courageous of horses to turn the other way when a herd of not-elk come lumbering through the hills.
sugar and the mint – by Elena
07-18-2021, 02:56 PM
The cliffs press in upon each other here, each cliff faces painted in the myriad shades of a twilight sky. Reds and blues and purples are all you see, pierced by diamonds that glitter more lustrously than any celestial star. There is a pathway leading down and down you descend, upon crumbling, dew damp steps, into an interweaving maze of dusky cliffs.

Upon the valley floor the world turns from stone to metal. Through the twilight valley’s heart a mercury river meanders idly. It ripples in hues of smooth silver and starlight white. Above the river, trees of copper arch, adorned with blue-green leaves as sharp as knives, dappled with rust.

This metal forest is eerily still, but alive with the song of shifting metal – clicking and clacking, spinning and whirring. Flowers and shrubs are all in various stages of tarnishing and rusting - creating an assortment of colours. Along the valley floor animals roam, forged from every metal that magic can muster. Like clockwork toys the birds and animals tick and move and the more you watch, the more you wonder if they are alive, or merely wound up, destined to stop and never start again.

And running beneath it all there is a tick-tocking sound, like a great clock whittling away the seconds.

Beautiful and Terrible – by Peregrynn
07-17-2021, 11:33 AM
The cliffs press in upon each other here, each cliff faces painted in the myriad shades of a twilight sky. Reds and blues and purples are all you see, pierced by diamonds that glitter more lustrously than any celestial star. There is a pathway leading down and down you descend, upon crumbling, dew damp steps, into an interweaving maze of dusky cliffs.

Upon the valley floor the world turns from stone to metal. Through the twilight valley’s heart a mercury river meanders idly. It ripples in hues of smooth silver and starlight white. Above the river, trees of copper arch, adorned with blue-green leaves as sharp as knives, dappled with rust.

This metal forest is eerily still, but alive with the song of shifting metal – clicking and clacking, spinning and whirring. Flowers and shrubs are all in various stages of tarnishing and rusting - creating an assortment of colours. Along the valley floor animals roam, forged from every metal that magic can muster. Like clockwork toys the birds and animals tick and move and the more you watch, the more you wonder if they are alive, or merely wound up, destined to stop and never start again.

And running beneath it all there is a tick-tocking sound, like a great clock whittling away the seconds.

Beautiful and Terrible – by Peregrynn
07-17-2021, 11:33 AM
The land seems sapped of color here. Black waves break in a rush of white foam upon black sand, seashells glittering in every shade of gray along its beach. In the distance the world fades into gray clouds, a persistent fog that never quite burns off even in the heat of the day.

It seems eerily still here; the rising and falling and crashing of the waves the only sound. This place seems a step removed from the rest of the world, shuttered in by the mists pressing in on every side. Closer and closer they seem to draw each night, like eager beasts closing in upon you - until the sun beats them back by morning. And for the moment you are safe.

But the mist is always there, waiting, watching, curling from the crest of every wave. And sometimes, as the sun dips low in the sky and the persistent fog hides the stars and the moon from view, the fog seems to shiver. And it has been said that if you listen closely, you might hear moaning (or is it singing?) coming from somewhere within the gloomy dusk, growing louder and louder...

Never
The land seems sapped of color here. Black waves break in a rush of white foam upon black sand, seashells glittering in every shade of gray along its beach. In the distance the world fades into gray clouds, a persistent fog that never quite burns off even in the heat of the day.

It seems eerily still here; the rising and falling and crashing of the waves the only sound. This place seems a step removed from the rest of the world, shuttered in by the mists pressing in on every side. Closer and closer they seem to draw each night, like eager beasts closing in upon you - until the sun beats them back by morning. And for the moment you are safe.

But the mist is always there, waiting, watching, curling from the crest of every wave. And sometimes, as the sun dips low in the sky and the persistent fog hides the stars and the moon from view, the fog seems to shiver. And it has been said that if you listen closely, you might hear moaning (or is it singing?) coming from somewhere within the gloomy dusk, growing louder and louder...

Never

Tribe capital led by Erasmus

Tall grasses spread across the endless flatness of this land. In some places they are high enough to hide the horses who wander through, desperate to find some cover from the weather and predators of this world. Sometimes, when the wind howls through the not-quite-barren land, the wheat-stalks seem to sing against their siblings in a song that sounds a little like birdsong. The world becomes so alive with the beautiful and haunting melody that it seems impossible not to see eyes watching from the thick grasses on the horizon.

Trees are scattered throughout the plains like lone sentinels guarding this land from the dangerous waiting just beyond the horizon. Each tree is a different species: to the west there is a willow, the east has a cypress, the north a majesty palm, and the south has a towering birch white as bone. They are seemingly harmless at first look, nothing more than giants waiting to protect the horses calling this place home. But like all things in this world nothing is ever as it seems.

Each day, for a single hour, the skies here gather with dark clouds and begin to roar like lions. Lighting spiders between the clouds and when it does strike the earth, it is always to one of the sentinel trees. However, the trees never burn, never crack, never seem as if they have been hit with lighting at all. And those that watch the storms roll through might start to wonder if those four trees are trees at all.
The Northern Tribe – by Erasmus
Yesterday, 04:27 PM
Tribe capital led by Erasmus

Tall grasses spread across the endless flatness of this land. In some places they are high enough to hide the horses who wander through, desperate to find some cover from the weather and predators of this world. Sometimes, when the wind howls through the not-quite-barren land, the wheat-stalks seem to sing against their siblings in a song that sounds a little like birdsong. The world becomes so alive with the beautiful and haunting melody that it seems impossible not to see eyes watching from the thick grasses on the horizon.

Trees are scattered throughout the plains like lone sentinels guarding this land from the dangerous waiting just beyond the horizon. Each tree is a different species: to the west there is a willow, the east has a cypress, the north a majesty palm, and the south has a towering birch white as bone. They are seemingly harmless at first look, nothing more than giants waiting to protect the horses calling this place home. But like all things in this world nothing is ever as it seems.

Each day, for a single hour, the skies here gather with dark clouds and begin to roar like lions. Lighting spiders between the clouds and when it does strike the earth, it is always to one of the sentinel trees. However, the trees never burn, never crack, never seem as if they have been hit with lighting at all. And those that watch the storms roll through might start to wonder if those four trees are trees at all.
The Northern Tribe – by Erasmus
Yesterday, 04:27 PM
Perhaps you do not remember the first stone you saw. There are so very many here, and the first of them looked so very much like normal stones -- impossible to tell them apart, impossible at first to notice the magic that ties them all together like roots beneath the earth. Perhaps you did not notice the second either, or the third, or the fourth; perhaps it was not until the thick grass gave way to mossy turf, speckled with rolling boulders carved into obscure shapes and faces, that you finally stopped and wondered how it was that you got here.

But then, oh then do you see.

Pillars and strange formations all rise from the ground in place of trees, pressed so closely together in some places it feels like walking through a forest of stone. Each of them a shrine, tall and jagged and weighted with all the memories and blessings laid upon them over the years. Some are carved into the shape of a flower, or a loved one, or an arcane symbol only its creator understood. Some stretch up and up and up to the sky, towering above the world, and others are the size of the barest pebble. The air is quiet here, as if in reverence (or is it something else? Is it respect, or is it fear?)

Stones should not have roots, but oh, if you were to flip over a pebble here you might see the spindly threads of them anchoring it into the ground, tugging the overturned stone right-side up again like a living thing. Be careful which of them you disturb.

I love you the most, I do... – by Danaë
07-09-2021, 04:51 PM
Perhaps you do not remember the first stone you saw. There are so very many here, and the first of them looked so very much like normal stones -- impossible to tell them apart, impossible at first to notice the magic that ties them all together like roots beneath the earth. Perhaps you did not notice the second either, or the third, or the fourth; perhaps it was not until the thick grass gave way to mossy turf, speckled with rolling boulders carved into obscure shapes and faces, that you finally stopped and wondered how it was that you got here.

But then, oh then do you see.

Pillars and strange formations all rise from the ground in place of trees, pressed so closely together in some places it feels like walking through a forest of stone. Each of them a shrine, tall and jagged and weighted with all the memories and blessings laid upon them over the years. Some are carved into the shape of a flower, or a loved one, or an arcane symbol only its creator understood. Some stretch up and up and up to the sky, towering above the world, and others are the size of the barest pebble. The air is quiet here, as if in reverence (or is it something else? Is it respect, or is it fear?)

Stones should not have roots, but oh, if you were to flip over a pebble here you might see the spindly threads of them anchoring it into the ground, tugging the overturned stone right-side up again like a living thing. Be careful which of them you disturb.

I love you the most, I do... – by Danaë
07-09-2021, 04:51 PM
The wind howls in your ears, beating down upon you as though it were trying to bow you into submission. A line of mountains pierces the sky, broken and bared, stretching impossibly high like the jaws of the world set against the throat of the heavens. The mountain peaks ripple and twist, rising and undulating like the backbone of some great beast lying where it had fallen at last. Ice and snow glisten in great spears pierced through its body.

Across the top of these mountains a single narrow path runs. With wind roaring down your back you begin to walk, perilously close to the edges that drop steeply away to either side. Occasionally the lane might widen, or you might come across a hollow cavern dug into the rock; a brief respite from the long and arduous journey.

In the distance a light catches your eye, a sharp glint of something bright and just out of sight. But as you hurry along after it, it seems to only slip further and further away with every step that you take.

Never
The wind howls in your ears, beating down upon you as though it were trying to bow you into submission. A line of mountains pierces the sky, broken and bared, stretching impossibly high like the jaws of the world set against the throat of the heavens. The mountain peaks ripple and twist, rising and undulating like the backbone of some great beast lying where it had fallen at last. Ice and snow glisten in great spears pierced through its body.

Across the top of these mountains a single narrow path runs. With wind roaring down your back you begin to walk, perilously close to the edges that drop steeply away to either side. Occasionally the lane might widen, or you might come across a hollow cavern dug into the rock; a brief respite from the long and arduous journey.

In the distance a light catches your eye, a sharp glint of something bright and just out of sight. But as you hurry along after it, it seems to only slip further and further away with every step that you take.

Never

Tribe capitol led by Helene

Even the fire rains cannot penetrate this cold land of winter and lights. In the eternal night the sky is bright with rainbows of aurora. The colors are constantly changing. Beneath the stars and moonlight the world is an icy masterpiece. The trees are coated with ice that's inches thick. All the leaves are so frozen that when the winds blow they fall and shatter like glass.

Everything here is bitterly beautiful and you can almost forget that it's a cold that kills. But it's when the auroras turn to green that the time to run has come.

When the sky turns to green, the thunder snows blow in on blistering winds. The lightning shatters forests into snow-dust, and cracks the lakes open like an earthquake. The snow turns to icy bullets that can tear through horseflesh and shatter bones.

It's wise to run and run fast. Perhaps towards the cavern that has been whispered about?

Down, the stories say to go down. Past the rocks and the river that twists upon itself there is a cavern that is dark and looming and hidden by a strange, steaming mist. There (or so the whispers go) is a jungle hidden beneath the ice. An oasis from the thunder snows.
EVENT -- Your heavy heart – by Helene
07-17-2021, 01:02 PM
Tribe capitol led by Helene

Even the fire rains cannot penetrate this cold land of winter and lights. In the eternal night the sky is bright with rainbows of aurora. The colors are constantly changing. Beneath the stars and moonlight the world is an icy masterpiece. The trees are coated with ice that's inches thick. All the leaves are so frozen that when the winds blow they fall and shatter like glass.

Everything here is bitterly beautiful and you can almost forget that it's a cold that kills. But it's when the auroras turn to green that the time to run has come.

When the sky turns to green, the thunder snows blow in on blistering winds. The lightning shatters forests into snow-dust, and cracks the lakes open like an earthquake. The snow turns to icy bullets that can tear through horseflesh and shatter bones.

It's wise to run and run fast. Perhaps towards the cavern that has been whispered about?

Down, the stories say to go down. Past the rocks and the river that twists upon itself there is a cavern that is dark and looming and hidden by a strange, steaming mist. There (or so the whispers go) is a jungle hidden beneath the ice. An oasis from the thunder snows.
EVENT -- Your heavy heart – by Helene
07-17-2021, 01:02 PM
It appears seemingly overnight, the seeds sprouting into sprouts and shoots and climbing to monstrous height in the blink of an eye.

They can be seen even from a distance, a sudden wall of wood and leaves that cuts off this land from all the others. Groves of tall bamboo, like woodland, yet bamboo chokes out anything but its own. Every day more of it grows, adding stem after stem to its already endless length.

It is beautiful here -- but as with all things, the most beautiful are often the most deadly. No water grows here -- there is no room for it, the ground choked by roots and stems. Even without asking, you already know that nothing else can live here. Perhaps nothing else would want to.

It is easy, all too easy to get lost here with no landmark or plants or trees to guide your way. Perhaps it is only after hours of wandering in endless circles you notice your mistake, as you turn upon your heel and see the same unbroken image stretching out to every direction, as far as the eye can see. A sea of giant bamboo stems, swaying and creaking in an unfelt wind. It sings and chimes, the only sound, the only living thing to be found.

intoxicated with madness;... – by Leto
07-29-2021, 03:36 PM
It appears seemingly overnight, the seeds sprouting into sprouts and shoots and climbing to monstrous height in the blink of an eye.

They can be seen even from a distance, a sudden wall of wood and leaves that cuts off this land from all the others. Groves of tall bamboo, like woodland, yet bamboo chokes out anything but its own. Every day more of it grows, adding stem after stem to its already endless length.

It is beautiful here -- but as with all things, the most beautiful are often the most deadly. No water grows here -- there is no room for it, the ground choked by roots and stems. Even without asking, you already know that nothing else can live here. Perhaps nothing else would want to.

It is easy, all too easy to get lost here with no landmark or plants or trees to guide your way. Perhaps it is only after hours of wandering in endless circles you notice your mistake, as you turn upon your heel and see the same unbroken image stretching out to every direction, as far as the eye can see. A sea of giant bamboo stems, swaying and creaking in an unfelt wind. It sings and chimes, the only sound, the only living thing to be found.

intoxicated with madness;... – by Leto
07-29-2021, 03:36 PM
The sand is white here, blindingly so - an endless swath of too-bright desert that stretches from horizon to horizon. In the distance is a rushing sound, of waves breaking on sand, of sea-birds calling coarsely to one another. But even as you squint your eyes against the sunlight and move towards the sound, there is no water, no relief from the heat, to be seen even in the form of a mirage.

Until with a sudden rush the water reaches you, sweeping along your feet with a fast-moving current. It is not deep - perhaps it barely wets your hooves, or kisses your knees, or its spray splashing along your belly - but it sweeps towards you with a fury. The water is so blue and so clear it seems more dream than reality at first, but it carries a roar in the breaking of its waves that is far too real to mistake as it threatens to drag you down beneath its rush.

It is over in a second, the sand drying out quickly beneath the brilliant sun. But all too soon you hear that rushing sound again, drawing nearer by the second.

Never
The sand is white here, blindingly so - an endless swath of too-bright desert that stretches from horizon to horizon. In the distance is a rushing sound, of waves breaking on sand, of sea-birds calling coarsely to one another. But even as you squint your eyes against the sunlight and move towards the sound, there is no water, no relief from the heat, to be seen even in the form of a mirage.

Until with a sudden rush the water reaches you, sweeping along your feet with a fast-moving current. It is not deep - perhaps it barely wets your hooves, or kisses your knees, or its spray splashing along your belly - but it sweeps towards you with a fury. The water is so blue and so clear it seems more dream than reality at first, but it carries a roar in the breaking of its waves that is far too real to mistake as it threatens to drag you down beneath its rush.

It is over in a second, the sand drying out quickly beneath the brilliant sun. But all too soon you hear that rushing sound again, drawing nearer by the second.

Never

Tribe capitol led by Azrael

The heather is blooming, blooming bright and sweet on the moor.

From the hilltops the valleys look carpeted in dusky purple, all of them dancing and waving and reaching, always reaching, out to you. Gray rocks are thrust through some places like the backbone of the earth but they seem dwarfed by the thick grass, nearly swallowed by all the flowers. Skylarks trill and snipes run the lowlands, where lochs nestle like jewels between the hills. Birdsong lilts on the wind, a poem written in tomes of an ancient language forgotten by all but nature.

There is more beauty than danger here, but oh! What dangers those few are.

Be wary of the evenings when the mists roll in and something stirs from the depths of the largest lake, lifting from the water when you bend down for a drink. Be wary when the day is slow and hot and the wind dies down and you come upon stones that stand like sentinels in a looming circle, empty eyes seeming very much alive, very much watchful.

The magic is lovely here, more wild than sick, and most of all old - but that does not make it safe.

stardust – by August
07-12-2021, 10:47 PM
Tribe capitol led by Azrael

The heather is blooming, blooming bright and sweet on the moor.

From the hilltops the valleys look carpeted in dusky purple, all of them dancing and waving and reaching, always reaching, out to you. Gray rocks are thrust through some places like the backbone of the earth but they seem dwarfed by the thick grass, nearly swallowed by all the flowers. Skylarks trill and snipes run the lowlands, where lochs nestle like jewels between the hills. Birdsong lilts on the wind, a poem written in tomes of an ancient language forgotten by all but nature.

There is more beauty than danger here, but oh! What dangers those few are.

Be wary of the evenings when the mists roll in and something stirs from the depths of the largest lake, lifting from the water when you bend down for a drink. Be wary when the day is slow and hot and the wind dies down and you come upon stones that stand like sentinels in a looming circle, empty eyes seeming very much alive, very much watchful.

The magic is lovely here, more wild than sick, and most of all old - but that does not make it safe.

stardust – by August
07-12-2021, 10:47 PM
Here there are no trees from which the amber towers and church-yards have leaked. It is strange perhaps how the amber has turned itself into buildings from which caught lions and insects blink forlorn out of. But also perhaps it is fitting in a place such as this that the horses might walk through an archway of carved out amber and press a gentle goodbye to a bird caught there.

The city streets here are made of ore that echo like drums as the crowds of horses pass over. They wind over each other like roots that twist between the amber buildings. If there is a map to navigate this world, it has been lost in some world outside this one. There are castles carved out in amber in the four corners of this place (an ode perhaps to a dimension that was spit out into this one?). Those brave enough might find themselves exploring the hallways and the throne-rooms for secrets waiting to be found.

Even the air does not move as it should here. It lingers in the doorways of the amber castles like a specter of life instead of a storm. There is a weight to it, an essence felt more than seen, that belies the quiet hush of this world. And when it bares down in the midday heat, it is hard to deny that perhaps something, or someone, is coming.
with sun kissed by the su... – by Sadira
07-07-2021, 06:02 PM
Here there are no trees from which the amber towers and church-yards have leaked. It is strange perhaps how the amber has turned itself into buildings from which caught lions and insects blink forlorn out of. But also perhaps it is fitting in a place such as this that the horses might walk through an archway of carved out amber and press a gentle goodbye to a bird caught there.

The city streets here are made of ore that echo like drums as the crowds of horses pass over. They wind over each other like roots that twist between the amber buildings. If there is a map to navigate this world, it has been lost in some world outside this one. There are castles carved out in amber in the four corners of this place (an ode perhaps to a dimension that was spit out into this one?). Those brave enough might find themselves exploring the hallways and the throne-rooms for secrets waiting to be found.

Even the air does not move as it should here. It lingers in the doorways of the amber castles like a specter of life instead of a storm. There is a weight to it, an essence felt more than seen, that belies the quiet hush of this world. And when it bares down in the midday heat, it is hard to deny that perhaps something, or someone, is coming.
with sun kissed by the su... – by Sadira
07-07-2021, 06:02 PM
There is something strange about the dark waters of this lake, in the way it sucks in all the light of this world and swallows it down, down, down into its churning belly. As far as the eye can see there is only this dark, unbroken water rippling on and on - and balanced across its smooth surface are the lily pads that dip only slightly under your hooves. Each one is large enough to support a horse, bobbing gently against their long tethers that anchor them in the dark waters.

There is a pattern to the way they are scattered about the waters, if only you look closely enough to discern it. Some are grouped in clusters bumping against one another like ships tangling at the anchors, others are spread just far enough apart that only a leap of faith might keep you from sinking into the depths below.

Something bumps against the underside of the lily pad, a hollow sound that echoes and ripples across the still water. A shadow can be seen slipping away into the waters below, and you are left with one choice: wait for it to return, or take the leap to the next lily.

Never
There is something strange about the dark waters of this lake, in the way it sucks in all the light of this world and swallows it down, down, down into its churning belly. As far as the eye can see there is only this dark, unbroken water rippling on and on - and balanced across its smooth surface are the lily pads that dip only slightly under your hooves. Each one is large enough to support a horse, bobbing gently against their long tethers that anchor them in the dark waters.

There is a pattern to the way they are scattered about the waters, if only you look closely enough to discern it. Some are grouped in clusters bumping against one another like ships tangling at the anchors, others are spread just far enough apart that only a leap of faith might keep you from sinking into the depths below.

Something bumps against the underside of the lily pad, a hollow sound that echoes and ripples across the still water. A shadow can be seen slipping away into the waters below, and you are left with one choice: wait for it to return, or take the leap to the next lily.

Never

Tribe capitol led by Hekate

At first glance, this place is a utopia of flowers so bright that their colors have no name in the language of horses. They grow as thick and plush as the bluegrasses that wave in the wind and never seem to wilt no matter the heat, or cold, or time passed. Each holds a secret in their petals, but that mystery is left to the horses brave enough to swallow them to discover. It is rumored that one flower turns paradise to hell and one grows wings.

There is a forest in the middle of this land through which a crystalline river flows. The water is bright as a full moon and full of fish that are just as colorful as the plush wildflowers. The pools of fish gather briefly in the eddies caught in oak roots but always seem to swim downstream towards a pond thick with watercress and tadpoles. The water never looks deep but the muck in the bottom of the pond is littered with bones as strange as the fish and flowers.

Beauty always seems to hide something, doesn’t it? But maybe the secret lies in the bottom of the lake and in the marrow of a monster long lost to this strange place. For those brave enough to dive into the pond, there waits an entire city of silver star-blood and water-worms that wave in the currents like flowers.

More: The Sacred Tree
In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida – by Othayun
07-17-2021, 02:11 PM
Tribe capitol led by Hekate

At first glance, this place is a utopia of flowers so bright that their colors have no name in the language of horses. They grow as thick and plush as the bluegrasses that wave in the wind and never seem to wilt no matter the heat, or cold, or time passed. Each holds a secret in their petals, but that mystery is left to the horses brave enough to swallow them to discover. It is rumored that one flower turns paradise to hell and one grows wings.

There is a forest in the middle of this land through which a crystalline river flows. The water is bright as a full moon and full of fish that are just as colorful as the plush wildflowers. The pools of fish gather briefly in the eddies caught in oak roots but always seem to swim downstream towards a pond thick with watercress and tadpoles. The water never looks deep but the muck in the bottom of the pond is littered with bones as strange as the fish and flowers.

Beauty always seems to hide something, doesn’t it? But maybe the secret lies in the bottom of the lake and in the marrow of a monster long lost to this strange place. For those brave enough to dive into the pond, there waits an entire city of silver star-blood and water-worms that wave in the currents like flowers.

More: The Sacred Tree
In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida – by Othayun
07-17-2021, 02:11 PM
There is a hole that yawns its black maw open wide and beckons you in.

Your steps may be tentative, or maybe you jump, but all the same it pulls you in with invisible hands. They let you go and you fall and fall and fall. The sky tumbles in after you and the ground twists and turns and groans --

You have fallen down the rabbit hole.

How long had you been falling? Moments? Months? Years? It isn’t clear, but eventually your descent begins to slow until it stops completely and you are weightless. The sky is beneath you, falling forever away and the universe stretches out beyond and below. Rainclouds drift by, pushing their rain up, up, up towards you, wetting your feet, your abdomen, your chest, before it ever reaches your spine.

You are so entranced by the sky beneath you, feet sinking deep into an endless blue that, for a moment, you do not notice that the ground is above you. Before you a great tree hang upside down, but no gravity pulls their leaves down. They hang there perfectly, rising and falling and shifting with a gentle wind, birds flying upside down between their boughs. Grasses reach their stems down towards you as you walk by with your head craned up and up, animals staring back at you upside down from the grasses.

A flower glows luminous pink, a sweet and floral scent beckoning to you. The flower calls you and if you are brave enough to eat it, then you may land upon the upside-down ground and drink the waters that run like ribbons high, high above you and the grasses that sway in the breeze. But be careful, for on a whim, that same flower may curse you and you will know your weight again and fall away into the sky forever.

through the diagrams of c... – by Warset
08-02-2021, 07:37 PM
There is a hole that yawns its black maw open wide and beckons you in.

Your steps may be tentative, or maybe you jump, but all the same it pulls you in with invisible hands. They let you go and you fall and fall and fall. The sky tumbles in after you and the ground twists and turns and groans --

You have fallen down the rabbit hole.

How long had you been falling? Moments? Months? Years? It isn’t clear, but eventually your descent begins to slow until it stops completely and you are weightless. The sky is beneath you, falling forever away and the universe stretches out beyond and below. Rainclouds drift by, pushing their rain up, up, up towards you, wetting your feet, your abdomen, your chest, before it ever reaches your spine.

You are so entranced by the sky beneath you, feet sinking deep into an endless blue that, for a moment, you do not notice that the ground is above you. Before you a great tree hang upside down, but no gravity pulls their leaves down. They hang there perfectly, rising and falling and shifting with a gentle wind, birds flying upside down between their boughs. Grasses reach their stems down towards you as you walk by with your head craned up and up, animals staring back at you upside down from the grasses.

A flower glows luminous pink, a sweet and floral scent beckoning to you. The flower calls you and if you are brave enough to eat it, then you may land upon the upside-down ground and drink the waters that run like ribbons high, high above you and the grasses that sway in the breeze. But be careful, for on a whim, that same flower may curse you and you will know your weight again and fall away into the sky forever.

through the diagrams of c... – by Warset
08-02-2021, 07:37 PM
During the day these woods appear as any summer wood might. The stirring of its leaves are the only noise it makes, an endless shush, shush, shushing that sounds something like the trees beckoning you to sleep. Everything sleeps here. All is silent, all is still, the whispering of the boughs overhead growing quieter and quieter as the day wears on - until with a sigh the sun sinks below the distant canopy, and plunges the world into darkness.

And in that profound darkness without a star to be seen overhead, the woodland comes to life. Trees blossom and flowers unfurl as the dead lift their heads and blink the sleep from their eyes. The air is heavy with the perfume of the flowers, barely hiding the smell of rot and decay that runs just below. Ghosts haunt the black tree trunks, the undead rattling their wakeful bones as they drift from shadow to deeper shadows.

There is no moon to bear witness - but from the center of every black flower their pollen gleams as brightly as any star, casting a trembling light upon the specters. And as the glow falls upon your skin, a pair of sightless eyes turns towards you with a creak of loose and rattling bones.

Never
During the day these woods appear as any summer wood might. The stirring of its leaves are the only noise it makes, an endless shush, shush, shushing that sounds something like the trees beckoning you to sleep. Everything sleeps here. All is silent, all is still, the whispering of the boughs overhead growing quieter and quieter as the day wears on - until with a sigh the sun sinks below the distant canopy, and plunges the world into darkness.

And in that profound darkness without a star to be seen overhead, the woodland comes to life. Trees blossom and flowers unfurl as the dead lift their heads and blink the sleep from their eyes. The air is heavy with the perfume of the flowers, barely hiding the smell of rot and decay that runs just below. Ghosts haunt the black tree trunks, the undead rattling their wakeful bones as they drift from shadow to deeper shadows.

There is no moon to bear witness - but from the center of every black flower their pollen gleams as brightly as any star, casting a trembling light upon the specters. And as the glow falls upon your skin, a pair of sightless eyes turns towards you with a creak of loose and rattling bones.

Never

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