Personal Quest [Seasonal Event] afire love
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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#15
 
M E L I T A


That sounds like a good idea was like a breath of fresh air to her ears, and she bloomed, blossomed, under the quiet praise. It was an instantaneous, radiant thing, brimming from the tips of her tangled, fiery mane the flash of her motions, made her all the more eager to help, to assist, in the building of rituals for legends. More than anything, it meant that she’d managed to be a part of something beyond disasters and ruin; had done nothing with weaponry or shields, and instead, obliged information, ideas, with others, with strangers, with friends. It was almost like days long since gone, when she and her companions dreamed about oceans and sand, about fire and ignition, about realms of peace and curiosities of old.

But she couldn’t be distracted, deterred from the task at hand. She placed Fangorn down on the ground, and the gourd scurried behind her, pondering over whether to hiss or not if anyone strayed too close, but the girl remained incredibly undaunted, even more kindled and incensed, by the nature of their goals and ideals. Melita adhered to Rory’s ideas, watching as the pony was secured, dragging her chosen log behind it as the hole was dug, reaching forward to help position in just so with the rest of the gathered. She even patted the wood for good measure, as if it were a mighty steed collaborating with their efforts, a noteworthy piece of support and function. Her strength was required to ensure success, and it caused her heart to sing, muscles adhered, grasp firm, as they went about securing the wood to its proper place.

The youth smiled again as she noticed the dirt shifting back around them, eyes suddenly drawn to the others, hoping to note who was causing the enchantments and invocations. She admired anyone who had the means of upheaval via magic and powers; but still managed just fine without the sorcerer blessings, breathing, inhaling, exhaling, the notions of strength and determination while they lowered the log.





Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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#16

a m a l i a

Ronin asks further about paint, and Amalia quickly sees the flaw in her idea. "Ah- no," the baker confesses bashfully, her lofty plans defeated as easily as they bloomed. "Perhaps one of the others? Or back in the shop..." with a curious shrug she trails off - a baker has little need for paint, but her grandmother had kept countless odds and ends, and she would not be surprised to find paint tucked away, now over a decade old.

Nodding in assent with the selection of trees, Amalia gets to work finding ropes and preparing to hitch their harvest to Talys' harness. The pony huffs gently as the baker fumbles, her shoulder hurting once again, which Ronin seems to catch. "Yes, I'm fine," the girl replies, gritting her teeth against the ache. "I was struck. By gargoyles. In the underground. It's healed, but still sore." She shrugs again, though the movement pulls further at torn muscles, and gently sighs.

Her work complete, the baker walks toward Ronin, raising her hand to support the nearly felled tree. "If you finish it off I'll push it over, so it doesn't fall into another tree," she suggests, not really sure if this is a good idea or not but eager to contribute, or at least try.

Samuel Wordsworth
Book maker/seller

Age: 34 | Height: 5' 5" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 25 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 25 - Int: 1
MIA - Regular - Ragdoll Cat
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#17
sam
So please please please, let me get what I want this time
It seemed like Remi had a good control over the dirt situation, easily lifting it with magic. Sam, a little embarrassed, stood back to watch and hold the shovel just in case he was needed (which clearly, he wasn't). People flurried about him going to get trees and carry them over, other things which he felt very unable to assist with.

As everyone moved to pick up the log and move it to the hole, Sam lent his hands into the mix. Despite his low confidence he did still have the Ascended strength, and took on a significant part of the weight easily without even really realising it, still convinced he was no help at all.

"Nearly th-there." He mumbled as they placed it in and Remi steadied it. Once it was securely placed he stepped back and smiled, looking it up and down. "I...I think that's a good base."
Leatherworker

Age: 36 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 16 - Dext: 17 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 8 - Int:
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#18
stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires
[ Okay people let's get this last round done before Long Night starts x'D There's no posting order so just post whenever you have the time! And it's 100% okay to keep assuming stuff like "Sam erected the pole" "I helped with so-and-so and now the crossbeam is in place". This is a bit of a mess but let's just get it over and done with.. xD ]

You could roll a log. You could shove a log. You could do a lot of things with a log, but fact remained, a pony did most things easier with a log than you yourself did. So once it was hitched properly to Esaia's traces he walked the hardy little pony over to the hole. She leaned into the collar, but between the snow and relatively smooth surface underneath, it was no match for her.

Still, he found himself marveling at the grace and strength of ponies.

Once they had the log by the hole it was just a matter of unhitching it from the traces, and then securing a couple of rings (with rope applied through them already) to the top to use as a crude pulley system for the crossbeam. That, and walking Esaia back to the selection of logs while the others began the behemoth task of lifting the log and sliding it into the hole. Most logs would be a decent choice for the crossbeam—not that there were a whole lot of them either, just three different ones. He picked the one that seemed it would balance the best on their selected center pole, hitched it to Esaia, and pulled it to the others.

As Rory led the pony back to the others Remi commented on his choice in pony for the day. He chuckled a little, mostly eyeing the work being done, trying to see if he needed to step in and brace it at any point, but .. it went surprisingly smooth. "He's always been a bit dumb in a harness," he responded lightly, but in truth, the main reason was as Remi suspected: Bakshi was old and while he held up very well, the mares were smaller and sturdier and in their primes. Trusting the others to have the pole raising under control he unhitched the crossbeam-to-be from the pony and looped her lead rope around whatever was nearby at a convenient distance.

"Well done!" he praised the others once the log was secure and upright. "I figured we'd use this as crossbeam. Remi, perhaps you could fly up and secure it once we've hoisted it? Or anyone else that can get up there without dying." There was typically no shortage of Attuned bird shifters for this task.

With the others Rory helped to secure the crossbeam log and attach it to the pulley ropes. (Insert PQ master privileges.) Seeing as Amalia and Ronin were back with their supports and the other pony, Rory hitched them both (ponies, that was) to the pulley ropes, and began the slow and precise task of hauling the crossbeam to the top.

Hopefully Ronin kidnapped the others to help him get the supports up...



Ronin & Amalia avoid getting squished by their tree! Good job friends, now get your asses back and put them up <3 Because I am totally assuming you are back and I can use Talys as well lol

So Odd just told me this thing is like 5-8 yards tall and wide, which is a lot bigger than I was envisioning. So I sort of .. snuck the pulley thing in there because otherwise we'd just have a damn pole and no perch haha

The rest of the team has crossbeam and supports time. :D
Ronin Taliesin
the Supernova


Age: 34 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 14 - Strg: 58 - Dext: 70 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
SUGAR - Mythical - Dragon (Ice Breath)
Played by: Honey Offline
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#19
R O N I N


"Gargoyles? In the underground?" Ronin wrinkled his nose and made a mental note to go and investigate the place as soon as he got the chance next; something like that sounded like it was worthy of his time and attention. For now, however, he was concentrating on the tree in front of him. Pausing just before it could fall, he nodded encouragingly to Amalia before finishing it through with a swift, precise strike.

They were lucky and with his companion's help the tree would fall in just the right place. Ronin hefted their newly-acquired support beam over to the pony, fixing it in place before returning to repeat the process with a couple more trees.

That done, they headed back to the Settlement where the perch seemed as though it was coming together. As Rory took back his pony for the pulley system and the crossbeam, Ronin indeed tried to corral the rest of the group to hoist the supports in place. "Alright," he would call as he readied a few of the logs they'd gathered. "We have to work together to make sure the supports are in the right place. If we fall out of sync we might knock the crossbeam askew." And that wouldn't be great. At all.



Samuel Wordsworth
Book maker/seller

Age: 34 | Height: 5' 5" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 25 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 25 - Int: 1
MIA - Regular - Ragdoll Cat
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#20
sam
So please please please, let me get what I want this time
Sam was more than content to follow orders he was given - he nodded at Ronin and moved to grab a support, holding it in place as the stand was lifted up. His strength helped him to keep it steady, feeling one of a team as they all worked together to make sure the perch was steady.

As it finally went fully up, Sam stepped back and smiled up at it, hands on his hips. It wasn't often he felt proud of himself, but working in a team was something he'd always found difficult, so it was rewarding to see the finished work. Perhaps, he thought, the Sparkbird might actually show up this year just to appreciate the effort they'd made...

"I-it looks good." He said quietly to anyone around who could hear with a little smile.
Remi Taliesin
the Bastion


Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 15 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 100 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
Played by: Odd Offline
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#21
Remi the Alchemist
"these mountains that you are carrying, you were only supposed to climb"
“Aren’t we all?” Remi grinned back, the harness joke poor, but his grin was wide just the same. Listening and watching to Rory’s various instructions, Remi stalled slightly at the mention of someone getting the top without dying. Likely his friend meant it as a jest and yet...something in the words made Remi’s stomach run cold. Swallowing down the uncertainty and immediately dragging his uneasy stare away from Rory, Remi waited until his services were required before taking action.

Leaping into the air with wings sprouting suddenly from a rapidly-shrinking body, Remi glided to the top of the perch. Rather than shifting back into his own body—balancing might have been a bit of a concern, though then again given the size the Spark Bird apparently was, perhaps it shouldn’t have been—Remi instead shifted into a small raccoon. With a cheeky grin to those below, Remi began to tie the various ropes and other articles of binding to ensure the cross beam would remain in place.


Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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#22
 
M E L I T A


A sense of pride flickered over her – bright and ebullient – as they worked. It was intriguing, and inspiring, to witness and collaborate amidst a group of strangers; it reminded her so keenly of those moments in the Rift, where support was only a few feet, a roar, a shout, or a howl away, where everyone pledged to assist no matter the outcome. Perhaps it’d been one of the few things good and just to come out of the condemned world; because family hadn’t been linked solely by blood, and comrades, allies, had been around every corner. Safety had been in numbers, in defense, in assaults and sieges, in those unsaid pledges and vows. She did the same here, along those familiar outlines, smiling to herself.

She maneuvered where she was required, hands grasping hold of beams and ensuring they remained still amongst the others. Her eyes would glance up every so often to watch everything take shape – and she hoped, she hoped, something would come of this, that the Spark Bird would eventually sink down upon the illustrious perch and stay – flames and embers, infernos and power, dominion and might, a symbol of respite amidst the ominous LongNight. No matter the outcome, Melita thought the end results would be magnificent, a blend of strangers forming poetry and handiwork; all for the sake of something grand, something wonderful.





Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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#23

a m a l i a

Their log gathering successful, Amalia and Ronin return to the group, the girl warm with quiet pride in the success of her work. There is a great deal of activity already going on, the rest of the group having made strides in digging a hole and getting the central crossbeam in place. For a moment she pauses in her labor and simply watches, face lit by happiness and contentment as she looks upon the scene. Unity. Teamwork. Life. It is close to the way things used to be, the life she remembers before...

...before...

Ah, there it is: the bitter sting of loss, the constant ebb of loneliness. Amalia shakes away the feeling, buries it like so many others beneath a mantle of determination and stubborn, stalwart pride. Returning to action she follows Ronin, nodding at the man's instruction and going to stand beside a support beam. As they raise the perch Amalia smiles, the familiar sense of pride returning again: her nani would like this, she knows in her heart, and perhaps the Spark Bird will, too.

Leatherworker

Age: 36 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#24
stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires
And so it was, that they had their perch even this year, or at least the bones of one. Rory watched Remi as he soared upwards for a moment, before focusing on unhitching the ponies once it was clear the alchemist and the others had the crossbeam under control. Rory whispered little words of thanks and encouragement to the animals, scratching their ears and stroking their foreheads, before walking them back to the proper hitching post.

After securing the ponies he returned to the others. For a moment he just stood there, head tilted back and peering up along the length of the perch.

Then he gave a quiet half-laugh. "I think we should cheer, or something," he remarked, though dryly; Rory wasn't one to cheer when no one else was cheering. "It's rather impressive, even if it's not decorated. Anyone is welcome to help with that, at any time they have a moment to spare, so tell your friends. Painting, hanging little charms on it, dried flower garlands..." He shrugged one shoulder. He usually whittled little charms and hung a few on the pole. "Thank you all for your help. It might not have been your tradition before today, but now it's yours, too." He directed the last bit at the Outlanders, trying to catch Remi's eye for a moment and give him a smile, before retreating to see to his ponies. It was time to get them home, their work done.



Houston Houston we have a perch! Thank you for participating <3


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