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 Posted: Sun Nov 03, 2024 9:04 pm
Cactus Cat:Moth Plush:Cursed Dagger:Scorpion:Valkyrie Helm: Ruby Maxine (white)
Cirro Strata (blue)
Leucosi (white)
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Juliette06 generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
1!
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Posted: Sun Nov 03, 2024 9:28 pm
That was why she knew the second she walked in that something was... amiss. She could smell it. It didn't smell like anything, but she knew the scent nonetheless. She could sense it, and if she followed that sense...
A slight rustle. A soft padding on the loamy ground. Pyxis carefully nudged her way through the back corner of the growing plants, and found...
"Who are you?" Pyxis asked, a smile coming to her face in spite of herself, since she'd been planning to be anywhere from annoyed to angry about whatever disturbance was messing with the greenhouse's vibe. "Hello there..."
Pyxis held very still as the creature regarded her; it was paused halfway in pursuit of a leaf - not a leaf from the greenhouse, it must have blown in and the creature had to have chased it. It was also covered in sharp, dangerous looking needles. Pyxis herself had sharp talons herself, so she wasn't necessarily afraid of the creature, but she was curious about it.
The creature moved first, padding toward her and sniffed cautiously at her front hoof. A moment or two later, it rubbed its head, spikes and all, against her, and made the strangest, sweetest vibrating noise as it did so.
"I love you too," Pyxis said, the words tumbling out of their own accord. She was glad nobody else was around - she'd never said that to anyone other than her family before, especially not within five minutes of meeting them. "I guess you can help me out, huh? I hereby appoint you...a Guardian of the Greenhouse."
It was an arrangement that worked perfectly, for both of them, forever.
((WC: 313))
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Juliette06 generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
2!
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Posted: Sun Nov 03, 2024 10:05 pm
Prompt 2 You are taken into the memories of a Valkyrie sitting in a long house right before battle. But you find that you can move and talk as though it's you. What do you say? How do you prepare?
There would be blood tomorrow. The body Cirro Strata found herself in was used to battle, to blood, to the chaos of war; but it did not relish it. It was tired of the fight, but never ready to give it up. The body was strong, the mind was sharp, and there was a certain steadiness that spoke of experience.
But experience had also taught this body some hard lessons - there were raised scars across its arms, a bend in a leg that hadn't set quite right many, many years ago. This body belonged to a warrior who had once been unblemished, but was, at least, still breathing. This was the body of a survivor.
And it would survive the next battle, too, or so Cirro Strata hoped. There was a quiet, deadly confidence about this body, but its scars reminded Cirro that nothing was truly a guarantee. If it was, there would be no point in picking up a weapon at all, if it was all fore-ordained.
Cirro Strata made her way to an altar, which was filled with unusual items and images that she had never seen before. She could tell, though, that it was a holy space, and she moved with reverence as she made her way to it. Candles were lit, their flames burning precariously against the darkness that loomed all around them. This was what this body was - a light in the darkness.
Fumblingly, Cirro Strata lit a candle and let a deep sigh work its way in and out of the body she inhabited. This body had survived everything it had fought so far, and whether or not tomorrow would bring victory or death, no one but the gods knew for sure.
A voice called to her - a name that Cirro Strata did not recognize, but her body responded to all the same. The name that went with this body. She turned to find the source, and recognized, in spite of never seeing her before, a fellow warrior, with similar braids and armor and scars and strength clearly on display.
"You should say something," the other warrior said. "They are looking to you to lead them."
Cirro Strata felt herself nod; it made sense that this body was a leader, given its age. She followed the other warrior to the group of gathered fighters. They all fell silent as she entered the room, expectant. Hopeful. Afraid.
"You..." Cirro Strata began, momentarily distracted by the voice this body produced; it wasn't her own. She couldn't even be sure it was the same language, but she knew better than to try and untangle whatever magic had brought her here. "You have been well-trained. Some of you have fought many battles, and some of you... are young. Some of your blades have never tasted the blood of our enemies." And they were so young, some of them. Barely more than children.
"Tomorrow shall be a day of honor," Cirro Strata continued, the words coming to her like she'd known them all her life. "Whether we live or die, we do so as one, together. Our enemy is strong, but together, we are much stronger. Trust in your sisters. Trust in yourself. Know that I am with all of you, and that I trust you. You would not be here with me if I did not believe in my bones that you could be the one who turns the tide for us." She paused to look at each one - purpose was beginning to light in their eyes.
"Whether this is your first battle or your fiftieth, you have all proven yourselves to be brave, strong, and faithful to our ways. Use these gifts tomorrow, and our enemy will crumble like sand before a mighty wave. Tomorrow, we fight - and tomorrow, we will win!"
It was to a resounding cheer that Cirro Strata felt herself shunted back into her own body, which, for reasons she couldn't quite understand, was crying. She knew not all of the warriors assembled there could have died, but she felt that the body she had inhabited - their leader... perhaps that fight had been her last.
But even if that were true, Cirro Strata thought to herself, she knew that body. She knew that body would not have gone down without the fiercest fight, and that, in its own way, was a comforting thought, even as Cirro mourned the ancient loss of warriors she had never really known, but had somehow been blessed with witnessing through some mysterious crack in history and time itself. Cirro didn't know them, but... she did, and as she wept, she resolved to honor them, however she could, for the rest of her life.
((WC: 828 ))
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Juliette06 generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
1!
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Posted: Mon Nov 04, 2024 11:47 am
Prompt 1 If you roll a 1: You are surrounded by scorpions. How do you escape?
Fritz was in really, really, really big trouble. He was in the worst trouble of his life, and he was all alone. Usually, when he got in trouble, he at least had Eabha or some other friend nearby to help him out of his jam, but not this time. He'd gotten into this all by himself, and now he was either going to die here, or get out on his own...somehow.
The problem was that the scorpions were everywhere, and his mind couldn't find purchase enough to even start to come up with anything resembling a 'plan'. His mind was just screaming SCORPIONS!!!!! at absolute top volume. His hooves were dancing, and the space they had to dance in was rapidly shrinking - and he was not a small Soquili to beginwith.
"Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay." It was not okay. "You can do this. You're way bigger than them. Okay. You can do this." He scanned around the pyramid's internal design, desperate for a way out - the door he'd come through had slammed shut behind him the second his tail was out of the archway. This place was haunted for sure, and Fritzwallace remembered fondly the few minutes when he thought that would be his biggest problem.
So he couldn't go back. That meant he had to go forward. Forward. Forward motion. Okay. Okay. Okay.
His eyes alighted on a small, raised pedestal, with stairs leading to the higher part of the pyramid. Stairs. Up. Higher ground. But he couldn't walk there - he would have to jump. He would have to jump the space and pray he didn't break a leg or land in a pile of scorpions.
"Okay. You can do this." With a goal in mind, Fritzwallace continued to back up as far as he could in his little, ever-shrinking circle, and then ran as fast as he could, crouched and leapt high and far over the mass of writhing scorpions that were headed his way.
For just a moment, it felt like he was flying.
He made it to the landing, scrabbling only slightly on the collision with the ground. From the landing, there were stairs going up along the edge of the pyramid; the scorpions had closed in on where he'd been previously and didn't seem to know where he'd gone - not yet. He knew that wouldn't last, so he took off up the stairs two at a time, racing against the clattering of little buggy legs as he wound his way up, up, up. He did not stop to look at the shiny gold or the pretty jewelry, he did not stop to peer into the sarcophagus, he did not stop for anything. He just ran as fast as he could, and finally, after leaping over a too-wide gap that there should have been a bridge over, he came to a portion of the pyramid that looked weaker than the surrounding bricks. Without slowing down, he shoved his way through and made it into the bright, blinding sunlight. The scorpions were far behind him, but he was fairly sure they wouldn't be able to make it up or across the no-bridge gap. Even if they eventually could, he had at least bought himself a second to catch his breath and assess his new problem:
How was he going to get down?
((WC: 566))
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Juliette06 generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
3!
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Posted: Mon Nov 04, 2024 5:28 pm
Prompt 3 If you roll a 3: You can't understand anything the mothman is saying. The only sound you hear is the fluttering of wings and the buzzing. The only thing you can do is try to guess why he's here. Is he warning you or trying to save you?
It also had a big black bug thing floating in the middle of it, so there was that, too.
"Hi?" Lavender Violet called out, hoping against hope that he would continue his lucky streak of meeting ominous people that turned out to be friends in the end. It didn't really look like a friend, but... well, lots of things looked a certain way and were a different way! Soooo maybe this weird bug guy was one of those things.
"Um," he said, cautiously shifting from foot to foot. "I think I have to cross the bridge? That bridge? I think I need to go that way? And I think you're kind of... in the way? Is it okay if I, uh..." Lavender Violet took a hesitant step toward the bridge, the creature, but when his hoof stepped onto the first slat of the bridge, it gave a threatening creak and he immediately retreated.
The bug thing swarmed in a small circle and buzzed. Lavender Violet had no idea what it was trying to say, if it was trying to say anything at all. Did it even know how to speak? If it did, would Lavender Violet be able to understand it?
"Do... you want to come here?" Lavender Violet took a couple more steps back, giving the bug guy room to fly toward him, if it wanted. The bug guy stayed where it was and buzzed at him. "Should I... go a different way? Where should I go?"
Lavender Violet wasn't sure if he was imagining it or not, but he thought that maybe the buzzing increased in intensity. Was that a yes? Maybe it was a yes.
Or maybe it was that this bug guy was getting mad about all of Lavender Violet's questions. Either way, Lavender Violet was coming to understand that whatever was happening here, he wanted no part of it.
"Um. Okay. Thank you? Bye!"
And so Lavender Violet backed up, then took off at a run in any direction other than the bridge and the bug guy who lived on it.
((WC: 367))
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Juliette06 generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
1!
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Posted: Mon Nov 04, 2024 8:18 pm
Prompt 1 If you roll a 1: The curse winds up being more of you cursing at whoever did this to you. You can't do anything right. Everything you try to do goes wrong, often in hilarious ways.
In short, he knew how to handle himself, and he had done so adequately for many years.
So Ayaz found himself wondering why, why in the name of all that was holy, why in the name of every spirit that roamed the earth, why everything was going wrong at once.
He was pretty sure it was the dagger's fault, and he was pretty sure that just giving up the shiny new weapon wasn't going to cut it, in terms of freeing him from what he could only classify as the most annoying jinx that had ever been put on Soquili-kind.
Since finding the dagger in the middle of an old graveyard the night before, Ayaz had: been pooped on by a bird at such an angle that it went in his mouth, slept so late that he hadn't had time for his easy, meandering breakfast graze, woke up with a crick in his neck, tried to stretch his legs out and pulled a muscle, flew through a flock of angry hawks when he tried to leave the earth behind, broke a claw when he tried to land...
And that was all before noon.
By the time the sun was setting - after he'd tried to leave the dagger at the bottom of a cliff, in the middle of a rushing river, and also a hot fire, only to have it return to the hook of his accessories all on its own - Ayaz was starting to wonder if he was actually, maybe just going completely insane.
He needed help. He needed help badly, and he needed help immediately. So he set off looking for someone - anyone - that could maybe guide him to an elder, or a spiritual leader. A witch, even, he would settle for, if they could help him. He didn't even need to keep the dagger, at this point! He just needed to be... functional, because Ayaz could not handle even one more day of.... this.
Like magic, in the middle of this deep and dark forest, he came across...
The graveyard he'd found the dagger in to begin with.
He'd been traveling for an entire day. There was no way.
There was no way.
But this time, he wasn't alone.
"Help," Ayaz panted out, after tripping and nearly falling flat on his face in his hurry to approach the Soquili that - he could only assume - was waiting for him specifically. "Please. Please help. I'm sorry, please help."
The Soquili he faced was hazy. Not that his eyes were going, it was that she - at least he thought it was a she - was literally only semi- solid. She was somewhat transparent, and her eyes were glowing a deep, bright green. A green that was the exact same shade as the dagger that was glued to his side.
"You are not sorry."
Her voice sent shivers down his spine and made his tail fluff dangerously. Not alive. Dead voice. Bad, bad, bad voice.
"I am! I'm sorry! Please. How can I convince you that I'm sorry?"
"For what do you apologize?"
Ayaz buffered as he tried to figure out her question. He was basically sorry for waking up this morning, for ever wandering through this part of the world. He was almost sorry for being born.
"For..." Ayaz sighed. He knew what he had done wrong. "For taking that which does not belong to me, Spirit." He bowed his head. "I acted out of greed and without thought." He bent around and carefully extracted the dagger, then tossed it to the ghost's feet. "I ask your forgiveness. If I must earn it, I bow to your prouncement, Spirit."
And he did literally bow, leaning his great head down and stretching out his feet in front of him. He stayed there for a few moments, and when he looked back up, the spirit was gone. Only the dagger remained. Maybe he imagined it, but it seemed less...ominous somehow. More like a regular weapon.
He approached it cautiously.
"Remain respectful, or return here and regret."
He tried to leave the dagger behind, but when he woke up again the next morning, the dagger had affixed itself to his side once more. He was fully prepared to just... go through life as the least lucky stallion on the face of the planet, but it seemed like maybe his apology had been accepted, because he was able to move through the world without falling all over himself.
But he was absolutely sure that the next time he came across a strange artifact in a freaky graveyard, he was going to leave it there. He somehow didn't think this spirit that was connected to the dagger would forgive him again, and he wasn't going to find out the hard way.
((WC: 846))
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Juliette06 generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
2!
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Posted: Fri Nov 15, 2024 12:27 pm
If you roll a 2: You're pretty deep into the tomb, when suddenly your torch goes out. When you try your flashlight, it doesn't work either, even though it's brand new. A gust of wind blows across your neck. Don't. Panic. Don't panic. Whatever else you do, do not panic.
This was what was going through Prima Rosa's mind as the darkness collapsed itself around her, forming an impenetrable, impossible blanket. She couldn't see her nose in front of her face for how dark it was. She stopped moving immediately, knowing that if she broke a leg down here, she'd die for sure - as long as she was still breathing, she could find her way out, but she'd have to be very, very careful.
Panicking was not conducive to being careful. Not by a long shot.
Her lights were busted, for sure, and goosebumps erupted all over her body as a breeze snaked its way over her neck. Prima Rosa took a deep breath: there was nothing there in the dark that wasn't there in the light. There was nothing there in the dark that wasn't there in the light.
Don't. Panic.
It was not breath on her neck. It was just a breeze. From, um, a crack in the wall or... from the doorway she'd passed through ages ago to enter the tomb to begin with. It was not a giant, invisible, starving creature that wanted to eat her for lunch.
Don't. Panic.
Going forward clearly was not an option, much as part of her still kind of wanted to; she'd come this far, the reckless part of herself argued, and she hadn't come this far to only come this far. Surely if she was careful, she could make her way to...
To what, exactly? This was the rational part of her mind, coming back in full force, strengthened by the abject fear pooling in her gut. To a room that happened to be filled with lit torches, or windows, or some other method that gave off light? No. Impossible. Moving forward was too risky.
Which meant she had to go back.
Going backwards was not without its risks either, but at least she'd traversed this path already - if she could reverse her mental map, she could probably, probably make it out. Prima Rosa kept close to the wall of the tomb, tried to keep her breathing steady, and walked very, very slowly. She tried to remember when she'd stepped over branches or avoided large rocks, and she tried to avoid running into any walls.
Every time she slowed down, she heard a low gurgle from somewhere deep in the tomb. She tried to convince herself it was just the stones settling, or bats, or anything other than what she was dearly afraid it actually might be: a monster.
By the time she reached the entrance, most of a day had gone by. She was starving, tired, and dirty - just as she crossed her tail over the entryway, she heard a great bellow come from deep inside the tomb that sent her galloping away.
Going back had definitely been the right call, and the whole experience was enough for Prima Rosa to hang up her Adventurer's Hat once and for all - she would stick to well-light, monster-free areas from now on, no matter how tempting the promised treasures might be.
((WC: 522))
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Juliette06 generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
2!
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Posted: Fri Nov 15, 2024 3:09 pm
Quote: If you roll a 2: You are taken into the memories of a Valkyrie sitting in a long house right before battle. But you find that you can move and talk as though it's you. What do you say? How do you prepare?
So much avoidable death.
"The wisest warrior is one who knows when not to fight," Jack found himself arguing. "And this fight would be a mistake. We do not need to shed this blood. We have not exhausted all other options yet. Options like diplomacy. Have we tried to reach a truce?" The people around him exchanged dubious glances; they were not diplomats. They were fighters.
But they could be more than that, if only they were open to change.
"Let me go and try to speak to them," Jack pled. "I will see if we can reach an agreement. Lives can be saved on both sides, if we just try."
One of them finally shrugged their consent, and Jack took off. He carried a flag with him that showed he was friendly - at least for the moment - and when he met their enemy's leader, he barely opened his mouth before all of his army came pouring out of the trees.
They'd used him as a trap, a trick. They'd used him.
That meant this bloodshed was, intentionally or not, his fault.
Jack truly would've rather died than been used as a tool of death - so when the enemy leader stabbed him through the heart, he was almost (almost) grateful. As he looked up into the eyes of his killer, the sounds of war echoing around him, he offered one small, sad smile.
"I'm sorry."
And then he was gone, back in his own body - shaken, but happy to be alive.
((WC: 262))
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Juliette06 generated a random number between
1 and 6 ...
5!
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Posted: Fri Nov 15, 2024 9:38 pm
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Juliette06 generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
1!
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Posted: Fri Nov 15, 2024 9:40 pm
Quote: If you roll a 1: You are surrounded by scorpions. How do you escape?
Because this trouble was scorpions.
Now, Hipolito Alejandro Elegante Orosco-Neron knew a thing or two about poisons and the effects various poisons could have. He knew that he did not want to be poisoned by the.... yes, thousands of scorpions that were now approaching him.
He wiggles his multiple tails. Perhaps he could communicate with them? Perhaps he could convince them that he was their lord and master?
Hm. Perhaps not.
So he flapped his wings and took off. With a quickness. But the problem was that the scorpions were, evidently, still on him. As in crawling all over him.
"No no no no no," Hipolito Alejandro Elegante Orosco-Neron said to the scorpions. "This will not do, my small bitey and snappy friends. I am afraid that you do not belong in the sky with me, but rather on the ground with your family, no?"
So Hipolito turned around in the sky and carried the scorpions - probably quite bewildered now, the poor things - back to the ground. He carefully - but insistently - shook them all off himself, doublechecking that he was scorpion-free before he bowed his head to them.
"I go in peace, my small venomous brothers. Be careful not to get stepped upon!"
And then he took off once more, a fond feeling of friendship in his chest, and a lovely sort of ignorance that comes from not knowing you have a scorpion in your hair.
((WC: 278 ))
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Juliette06 generated a random number between
1 and 6 ...
4!
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Posted: Sat Nov 16, 2024 8:29 am
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Juliette06 generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
2!
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Posted: Sat Nov 16, 2024 8:31 am
Quote: If you roll a 2: The curse is deadly. You have to find a way to neutralize the dagger. How?
This was not the first evil thing to cross Aithghen's path, but... she wasn't so familiar with evil things as she was with evil people. People could be reasoned with, or restrained, or even killed, if it came down to that. How do you reason with, restrain, or kill something that isn't even alive and has no mind? It was just a blemish on the face of the planet, a dark lurching seeking thing.
It was just bad, and Aithghen knew she didn't have much time before it found some way to lay its hold upon her. If it got in, it would rot her from the inside out.
She couldn't just leave the dagger someplace else - not only would that not free her from its grasp, but that would give some other poor, less-equipped Soquili the chance to find it and become corrupted. Even if it killed her, Aithghen would not be a vehicle for increasing the net evil in the world. She just would not do that.
Aithghen would not panic, and she would not allow fear to control her. She would not let this dagger set the score - she was the conductor here, not it. So she gave herself time to study it, observing it, sensing it with all her senses - regular and extraordinary.
Finally, it occurred to her: the opposite of a curse was a blessing.
She had to route this evil and render it neutralized. Aithghen straightened her shoulders and approached the dagger; it wasn't quite her highest-powered time of year, but Aithghen didn't have the time to wait. She would be dead by the solstice if she tried.
So instead, she called upon her own deep reserves of power, of goodness, of light. Of rebirth. This would not be a cursed dagger any longer - it would just be a dagger. Something used for protection, not wanton harm. She would chase the darkness out with bright, blinding light, as surely as spring followed winter.
It fought her. It fought her harder than some Soquili had fought her - because Soquili who came to her at least wanted to be good. This dagger wanted only to destroy.
It could fight all it wanted, though - Aithghen refused to let it win.
When the light from her candle faded, she opened her eyes. Before her sat a dull, regular, ordinary dagger. Not so shiny, not so sharp... not so evil. Not evil at all, actually. She felt its hold receding and let out a breath, a wave of exhaustion chasing after it as she felt sweat break out behind her ears and dampen her hair. There was a reason she only did this twice a year - but this, she knew, was a worthy exception.
Before she allowed herself to sleep, Aithghen dug a deep, deep hole. Probably ten or fifteen feet deep, maybe more. When she felt it sufficient, she flew out of the hole, kicked the dagger in, and refilled the hole, smoothing the ground out after she finished until it looked exactly the way it had before she'd begun this process.
Just in case the evil ever returned to that dagger - it would never be able to harm anyone again.
((WC: 573))
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Juliette06 generated a random number between
1 and 6 ...
2!
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Posted: Sat Nov 16, 2024 8:53 am
Which prompt for Pacha...
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Juliette06 generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
2!
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Posted: Sat Nov 16, 2024 8:55 am
Quote: If you roll a 2: You're pretty deep into the tomb, when suddenly your torch goes out. When you try your flashlight, it doesn't work either, even though it's brand new. A gust of wind blows across your neck.
She'd spent much longer than her sisters snuggled up between her parents at night, nestled safely between them as the sun set and the stars came out. She knew that there wasn't usually anything to be afraid of in the dark - but this was not a usual time. It was entirely possible that here, in this particular location, there was something lurking in the dark, waiting for its opportunity to...
Pacha shook her head at herself. She didn't need to think of the thousands of terrible ends to that particular sentence. She just needed to focus, and she just needed to get out of here.
The breeze ruffled her hair, making her shiver.
Wait.
Breeze?
Pacha blinked, a slight frown creasing her brown. She was in a tomb; there was no breeze. Unless...
Carefully, extremely slowly, Pacha began to follow the breeze. The breeze got stronger, and finally Pacha found its source; a wall, with a crack in it. She shoved at the crack once, twice, and finally a third time before it gave way to sunlight, fresh air, and freedom.
She was safe - for now. She was free; she could always come back, duck through her own secret doorway, and try again later - with lights that wouldn't go out at the first opportunity.
...Or...maybe she would just use this as a story to scare her friends and future family with. Look what I survived, look how clever I was to escape. Look how much I simply do not ever need to return to. Ever.
Yes, Pacha thought. She simply did not ever need to return to that tomb - why test fate when she'd only barely escaped this time? She decided to be grateful that she could put the tomb - and all of its haunted secrets - behind her.
((WC: 304))
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Juliette06 generated a random number between
1 and 6 ...
2!
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Posted: Sat Nov 16, 2024 10:12 am
What prompt for Ofelia...
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