Mini Event Woods of the Rising Sun
Sunrise mini event!


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#1
capturing the
sun


It is slow and gradual. Though Safrin has already appeared, the sun having been placed back where it belongs, still the dawn arrives slowly the way that water boils. Midnight turns to plum. Violet intersperses like dew, and soon the warm and vibrancy of the ochres and crimsons join. Light begins to dapple through the canopy of leaves, and though the Greatwood is a dense and darkened place, the boughs of the trees seem to kneel and sway to allow the light to radiate towards the ground.

Ronin Taliesin
the Dark Star
Monster Hunter

Age: 27 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 7 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 26 - Endr: 26 - Luck: 30
SUGAR - Mythical - Dragon (ice breath)
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#2

Finding a blanket to sit upon was not a difficult affair, not with the preparations that the Fae had made beforehand. Once the festival looked as though it was winding down to this, Ronin had excused himself briefly, only to return with his daughter in his arms. Aoife was fresh from a nap, her starry eyes pinned on the heavens above, her chubby little fists buried in the fabric of her father's shirt.

She cooed and babbled as Ronin got comfortable with her in his lap, and the hunter grinned, smoothing a hand through her mop of dark curls. "That's right," he murmured. "Not long to wait now."

RONIN
if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving
Ianto Dea Arduinna
Merchant

Age: 23 | Height: 6'0 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
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#3
it's not what it looks like
A fox needed no blanket, and it was a fox that appeared to watch the sun rise. Ianto padded around the outskirts of the little gathering to find an innocuous space within the long grasses. There, he tucked himself up and wrapped his tail about himself, becoming a perfect red ball of fur in the semi-darkness.

With golden eyes only half open, Ianto listened rather than watched, awaiting the arrival of the dawn and the inevitable crescendo to the festival. Once that was over, he could finally take his leave and go back into the woods, where he belonged.
Red Fox
Cardinal
Speaks with an Irish accent.
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd / Outlander Advisor
Portal Guardian
Age: 29 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 10 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 32 - Endr: 37 - Luck: 35
ISUMA - Mythical - Gryphon (venomous)
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#4
The night had been long and... complicated. There had been joy, but questions, too. Not since Fiat Lux had he danced and sang and talked the night away until the sun rose again, but there was catharsis in the comfortable exhaustion that came from such a celebration, and perhaps a little comfort in knowing that amidst the world's woes, among all the trials and tribulations and difficulties they faced, that there were still nights and times when peace could settle over the land and all the peoples in it.

Morning found him with a gryphlet on his shoulder, though the place beside him on the blanket was empty where the warmth of a body should have been. There was melancholy in that realization - and a quiet wonder once again at how much his life had changed. How much he had changed, when being alone felt strange instead of normal. It hadn't been all that long ago - less than a year, really - since he had shied away from being touched, wary of intentions, afraid of losing any more pieces of himself to those who would only let him fall, knowing he deserved no kindness or comfort after what he had become.

He was no longer that man. But who he was still becoming (everything changes a beloved voice whispered in his heart) he still hadn't figured out. He knew what he owed his past, his ghosts... but he was beginning to learn what he might owe himself as well. As the sun began to send gentle fingers of light filtering through the leaves to brush gentle warmth over his skin he sighed, tilting his face towards it with a lopsided smile. A new day was dawning, indeed. And, just maybe, it was dawning on a better man than the one who had first arrived on Caido, all those many months ago.
Melita Najya


Age: 19 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 5 - Strg: 24 - Dext: 25 - Endr: 25 - Luck: 21
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd
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#5
MELITA
Another day passed, another sunrise loomed. She could watch the bright, blinding star ascend every day: life renewed, begun again, power and potential carving, cultivating, its way to strength, one more chance to prove herself, one more opportunity to lay waste to quandaries and ineffectiveness. The colors swarmed before her gilded eyes and she was aglow in its song and dance, onyx and sable giving over to plum and violet, like the flowers her sister favored, soon occupying the sky in a sea of marbled crimson and orange – like fire, like flames, like embers, and coals, how she would soar again, like a dragon, like a beast, like a timeless heathen, crashing into the sky and heavens until they let her in. Her hands went to scratch Fangorn as they knelt and presided along their chosen blanket, bathed in light, and then her eyes closed, imagining a world of cliffs and sand at the bottom of her feet, sinking and simmering along her toes; sun-kissed and graceful, passionate and fervent. The world would change once more, and she’d adapt with it – beauty and dominion, wild and untamed, beneficence and belligerence at war in her soul. But not now, not amidst the tangled wonder; allowing herself to breathe in its serenity, in its tranquility, for another evening gone, another swell of morning just beginning.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 27
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#6
DEIMOS
Delivered from the blasts
The Reaper didn’t settle himself on a blanket, didn’t curl or coil along the grass; stood amidst the thresholds and panels of haunting, dusky midnight, a tower amidst fragments and sparks, waiting for the night to turn to day. It reminded him of auroras, of hues and colors blending against a backdrop of onyx and sable, lending beauty amidst the heresy of the Basin and its kingdom of nefarious occupants, he the broken, darkened king of them all, leading them down into the heresy and revolution. He watched as it transformed and transfixed within the piercing, puncturing depths of his blue gaze; no glaciers or summits here, but different and appealing all the same: mysteries, enigmas, quandaries to be unearthed and fixated upon, monsters to be slain, roles and rituals to be altered. This one, unlike previous intervals and realms, didn’t seem to have the ability to stay invariable, consistent, stagnant – not since they’d arrived, one by one, trickling into the foundation and rattling its surface to the very core. What next? he pondered, a small smile flickering across his features, for the sun rising, for the moon falling, for all the glories and challenges he welcomed now with open arms.
the last of a line of lasts
Amalia Chandrakant
the Shield of Safrin
Baker
Portal Guardian
Age: 22 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural
Level: 11 - Strg: 31 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 30 - Luck: 31
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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#7
Amalia
only lonely hid the morning from the stars
As the evening wanes and day threatens to rise, Amalia stands at Deimos' side, her hand closed gently inside his. Her feet are sore from dancing; her throat hurts from a hundred songs; but the girl is happy, blissfully so, awash in the beauty of a guileless world. Jyoti rests on the tall man's shoulder, happy to nest among dark locks, and together they are something close to a family, and she is close to home.

Sighing contentedly, Amalia lets her head fall toward him, wrapping herself against his embrace. Tonight she cares not who can see them, who might whisper and judge and jeer. He is so handsome, she so plain; she is so awkward, he so calm- it does not matter, not tonight, when she has him and they have the world, and happiness hums silver in her veins. When at last she draws away she does not drop his hand, but keeps it laced among her fingers, pulling him along with a quiet, "Come."

Hoping he will acquiesce the baker leads him on, gliding among the blankets like a sunbeam lost in the dark. When she reaches the one she wants she stops, smiling down at the man who sits on it, her cheeks flushed with hopeful friendliness. "May we join you, Ronin?" Amalia asks, ready to kneel if he should acquiesce, a piece of soft bread already in her hand for Aoife to chew.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Militia General of the Hollowed Grounds / Guildmaster

Age: 26 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 8 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 28 - Endr: 33 - Luck: 27
ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#8
DEIMOS
Delivered from the blasts
He’d had too many homes: most of them destroyed, altered, misshapen in some capacity – wondrous masterpieces given way to vast calamity and acrimony, open hostility waged in battlefields, then on dirges and requiems, on catacombs and sepulchers, in the darkening, hastening voids. Again and again, mountain summits reaching towards the heavens, celestial bodies and galaxies he’d never see, never touch, damning his figure, his throne, to an avaricious embodiment of living, breathing weaponry, the sword in the glacier, pulled from its sheath and piercing into adversaries’ souls. He’d strung them all silently within pits and pendulums, hanging nooses, torturous wails, a warning, a sign, of everyone else’s impending doom – and when he’d finally crumbled in the rain, eventually Helovia wore into erosion too, tricked and deceived, his tomb shattered with the rest. Then moonlit tides and endless beaches, intervals of sand beneath an paralleled luminary glow, running across the sand as a child and screeching at the gulls, the swift intake of salt air – and then the drumbeats hastening, pulling him away, away, away, until there naught left but the smoking plumes and the curling alms of smoke, bodies of friends buried where they’d fallen. Only thereafter was Caido – pressed and held between portals and the unknown, and his restless, ridiculous soul felt trapped in its tethers, in its lines. Send me back to hell he’d asked, and it hadn’t delivered – wearing down the stone and rubble, shifting it to more pliable, malleable pieces, the people beckoning, the compassion concerning, different, hastening to his form and figure despite his nonchalant demeanor, despite the way he’d chiseled himself into ash and dust. The reasons why were quite clear to him now – in his hands and on his shoulder, unworthy and undeserving of it all, but grasping hold, closer and closer, tighter and tighter, taking and taking, giving and giving.

The beast leaned into her then, lips ghosting a shroud, a halo, along her gilded hair, breathing in the starlight alms and the sunrises’ visage, Jyoti basking in his locks – he might’ve laughed, but he didn’t want to disturb the moment, the quiet, idle peace, the intonations of acceptance. The warrior had always waited for something to undermine it, for the world to remember who or what he was; unaware of the changing, altering molds, the re-sculpturing, a shifting of alignments; he didn’t have a potter’s grasp, only callouses, rapiers, and machinations.

He was pulled, lured, beguiled again, twisted and turned on her command, a silent, unspoken agreement in the twirl of twilight nestled between fingers and affection. The Reaper had no idea of where they were going, but Amalia clearly had a plan, making way over other partakers in the sunrise, in the setting of the moon, in the glory of another morning – until they reached Ronin, his daughter, a suggestion of joining on the blankets. He smiled too, a careful scrutiny and study, pondering if he should make a joke, some ridiculous attempt at appeasement, if Ronin has no intention of accepting them along their threads. He had nothing to offer, not at the moment, for the child or the man, brought there because Amalia thought him worthy of it, ready for the rest of the world to tell him no.
the last of a line of lasts
Remi Taliesin
Alchemist
Portal Guardian
Age: 24 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 10 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 30 - Endr: 34 - Luck: 31
ISLA - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#9
it's hard to see beyond what's in sight
Following Ianto wherever the fox would lead, Remi eventually found himself seated. Laying back, unaware of whatever dirty or flowers or whatnot might be behind him, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Care for a pillow?" He mused gently. Reaching into the ground around them, vines and mosses suddenly bloomed behind Remi's head, plumping it up comfortably. If Ianto did join him, the fox would find himself nearly denned-in on both sides by shrubbery suddenly appearing from the ground. Smelling sweetly like honeysuckle, Remi had created their own earthen-pod within which at least one of them could watch the sun rise.
but when you tilt the light I realize

Coding base by Sky!
Speaks with an Italian accent.

Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Let me know if you want to kill him and we can chat.

Magical Items for sale in the wagon: Drinkable Sea-Cup | A cup that transmutes saltwater from the ocean into drinking water. Works one-cup at a time. Full-Smokes | A packet of cigarettes, where each cigarette when smoked counts as a full meal. Clawed-Ring | A ring that when used created claws on the wearer's hand.
Ianto Dea Arduinna
Merchant

Age: 23 | Height: 6'0 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 15 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 15 - Luck: 8
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#10
it's not what it looks like
Only if you're the one offering, Ianto murmured sleepily, uncurling as Remi moved to lay back so he could loll against the alchemist, a foxy head coming to rest in his lap. Golden eyes blinked up at the earthen pod overhead, and Remi would feel the contentment vibrate through their mental link.

Nuzzling closer and letting out a long sigh, he settled down to wait for the sun. Ianto was still battered and bruised on the inside, even if physically he was fine, and this little bit of peace was a balm against his shredded psyche.
Red Fox
Cardinal
Speaks with an Irish accent.
Bastien De Rosieres
Guildmaster / Artist

Age: 34 | Height: 6' 2" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 4 - Strg: 15 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 14 - Luck: 7
PITTORE - Mythical - Gremlin (Disappearance)
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#11
BASTIEN
Given that he was not exactly on good terms with Safrin and that he was Ascended, Bastien showed up to the event late and quietly, staying at the back of the crowd. The sun was rising, the colours beautiful and familiar almost; he supposed the skies did not change too much between his world and this one. That was a fact that had once made him think that there was a chance he was still on Earth, but he'd let go of that notion a while ago.

Planning to leave before the sun was properly in the sky he sat against a tree, watching with a soft, sad smile on his face, wondering where it was the time had gone.
You standing beside me
I'm going to push back, push back, push back
With every word and every breath
Ronin Taliesin
the Dark Star
Monster Hunter

Age: 27 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 7 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 26 - Endr: 26 - Luck: 30
SUGAR - Mythical - Dragon (ice breath)
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#12

Glancing up at the sound of a familiar and friendly voice, Ronin grinned to Amalia and Deimos both. And Aoife, for her part, let out a cry of excitement at seeing Amalia again, one of her hands leaving her father's shirt for a moment so she could reach for the baker. Or her bread. Either way.

"My blanket is your blanket," the hunter said amicably, nodding to them and scooching over a bit to let them sit with him. He didn't think he'd seen either of them together before, and while his curiosity and imagination had a small, warm smile flickering across his face, he contented himself in keeping his daughter occupied.

RONIN
if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving


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