Mini Event show me your sweetness
Ludo Doll Mini-Event!
Spooky Rags


Age: 7 | Height: | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#1

A strange sort of darkness falls over the coastline, warm and comforting and winking out the stars. And yet there is light, if you look close - the torches that cover the beach seem more plentiful than usual, and upon closer inspection, it's almost as though the air is filled with fireflies. Not quite fireflies, though - souls. They weave and dance and swarm among the torches, leading the way to a large and cheerful bonfire.

Around the bonfire lay stacks and stacks (and stacks and stacks) of little Ludo dollies. All shapes and sizes and colours, the little masked, raggedy figures make a rapt audience to anyone approaching. There's a sensation overhead, that something is watching and waiting. Which doll will reign supreme...?



Welcome to the Mini Event to judge the Ludo dolls! Attendance at this event will count towards your SE requirements.

You have 72 HOURS to post your character's arrival at the event! After this time, Ludo will come to judge the dollies.
LUDO
Braved the forests, braved the stone
Braved the icy winds and fire
Braved and beat them on my own

Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
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#2
// i am the man we both couldn't stand. i can't wash the dirt from my hands. what was it like to feel in love?
i can't scrub off the black from my lungs, i can't wipe off the taste from my tongue //
There’s a covering of darkness, a part of Sunjata shying away as it descends. But he swallows down whatever foreign, anxious feelings that begin to run rampant, following the crowds from Haulani and the Slagveld, to go and join in on what’s occurred. Piles and piles of dolls line the way, Sunjata not quite realizing he’d grabbed his as he departed — a makeshift cloth Ludo with practiced stitches and a pale painted mask.

It isn’t his best work, nothing close to it. But Sunjata wasn’t an artist, hadn’t seen the deity since before Maea had died, and with all of that his focus had been elsewhere. But he arrives, he places his doll, and he hangs in the wings of the crowd — observing, jaw set tight, the shadowed flickering of a figure he’s been trying to ignore popping up in his peripheral vision nearly making him recoil again.

And he waits.
i am the shadow driving the hearse, what was it like to feel in love? what was it like to feel?
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Saiden Hali
Smuggler / Cook

Age: 33 | Height: 6' 2'' | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
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#3
just take your time wherever you go
Saiden wouldn't miss an appearance by Ludo. So the cook gathered up the doll he'd made and meandered down the coast. His creation wasn't fancy, but it was incredibly personal: the stuffing was made with seaweed, the mask was a shell, the rags were made from stolen cloths, and the twine holding it all together was pulled from fishing nets. It was authentically Torchline and authentically him.

Grinning at the darkness, the Hali picked up his pace. Gasping at the dancing souls, his eye tracked them, following them to the bonfire. Coming to a halt besides Sunjata, Saiden jerked his chin at the watching dolls. "Do ye think ours are good enough to join the crowd?" He held his in both hands, making it dance a little in time with the flames rather than setting it down in the stacks.
the Firebrand
Headmaster / Grand Healer

Age: 29 | Height: 5' 11' | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 11 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 33 - Endr: 35 - Luck: 39 - Int:
ASTRA - Mythical - Luxere
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#4
I get knocked down, but I get up again
Loren hadn't been in Torchline for over a year. Even after receiving word that Remi and Ronin were gone and the healer's ban was lifted, he'd stayed away. However, news that Ludo's doll competition was being held along the coast drew the Firebrand.

Holding his own bundle of cloth, wood, and paint, he made his way down the water's edge, heading for the darkness in the distance. When he entered it, his eye widened as he saw the souls flowing through it. They led him to a bonfire where dolls rested. Sunjata and a vaguely familiar looking man were already there.

Not wanting to approach the Governor, Loren just sent the Flood a brief mental message. Hey. How...how are you? Bending down, the healer tapped into his summoning magic. A monkey and two birds appeared. The monkey slid the doll over its body as the birds took some of the trailing cloths hanging off the robe it wore, making them flutter. The face painted onto the mask wasn't Ludo's normal one, but had thick red lips and luscious eyebrows.

It was the god as the Firebrand had first seen it: impersonating Safrin in a play led by Amalia. Hopefully Ludo appreciated the memory as much as the doll itself. The animals danced forward, acting out the exaggerated motions of the play.
you're never gonna keep me down
Loren
Base Code by Sky!
Ray Lunarium
Herbalist / Information Broker / Torchline Councilwoman

Age: 27 | Height: 5'5" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 5 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 19 - Endr: 18 - Luck: 18 - Int:
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#5

A panther in the night, a fire burning bright.


Ray eyed her surroundings with a wary eye as she trekked down the beach. The sound of her feet scuffing the sand louder then it should have been. The world was too silent. Ray's eyes were wide as she followed the souls blinking in and out of existence as they showed her the path. The souls almost seemed to dance in the flames of the torches, beckoning her to them teasingly. Slightly unnerved but oddly soothed by their presence, Ray approached the bonfire, her Ludo doll held gently but firmly in her hand. Choosing an inviting looking log, Ray sat down to wait.

r a y

The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.
—Albert Camus



Gideon Clemments
The Priest

Age: 52 | Height: 6' 1" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
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#6

Gideon
And lo, but no! What bliss

It seemed fitting that his doll made of driftwood was to return to the coast for it's judging (and by the looks of the bonfire behind the pile, final resting place, Gideon thought). The wood had been carved by his unskilled hands, meaning it was indeed a little blocky and rough, but the faith and love had been there; a simple mask-like face and a wrapping of black velvet, cloth from an old altar display that was no longer in use.

Reverently, Gideon stepped forward through the crowds and knelt to place his doll with the others, taking a couple of steps back and staring into the fire afterwards; all there was to do was to wait for Ludo's appearance and listen to the conversations of those gathered around to gift dolls. Of course, he was sure, no Ascended would be attending this event, so he could relax.

Another jolly jaunt through the abyss
Bastien De Rosieres
the Dionysian
Ambassador for the Hollowed Grounds / Artist

Age: 41 | Height: 6' 2" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 10 - Int:
PITTORE - Mythical - Gremlin (Disappearance)
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#7
BASTIEN

Little did Gideon know that Bastien, an Ascended, was indeed attending this event.

Holding gently in his hands his doll, made of fabrics that had been embroidered and embellished for many hours, Bastien couldn't help but beam with pride as he entered the area of the coast Ludo was due to appeal in. While dangerous proximity to the fire meant he couldn't place his doll as central as others, he was sure it would still stand out, with the sparkling beads and additions to the black cloak catching the light of the fire and the carefully stitched body larger than most of the other offerings.

Perhaps he ought to have been nervous that Ludo was due to appear, but Bastien was still a believer that peace would one day come between all Gods; simply being together in the world had to be the first step.
Still my heart is heavy
With the hate of some other man's beliefs
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
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#8
NATE
when you're good
no one remembers
Oh, but Bastien is not the only ascended to arrive.

Wherever Sunjata goes, Nate is not far, especially not for something like this. He arrives a touch later, his own fragile paper doll placed a safe distance away from the bonfire, closer to the edges of the pile. It looks shoddy, amongst the rest of them, but it is far too late to even try to fix that now.

With his doll placed, mismatched eyes lift to roam over the crowd. Those he knows are offered a nod, at the very best, and a twitch of the lips otherwise, while those he doesn’t merely receive a flat, suspicious stare. Nate settles in easily at Sunjata’s side, his hand settling in the small of Sunjata’s back and offering as warm a touch as he can muster.
when you're bad
no one forgets
Aurelia Murlow
the Fireheart


Age: 29 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
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#9
AURELIA
and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be
Aurelia's doll was nothing special but, she actually kind of liked it. She'd used a sturdy piece of driftwood as the base, cut it so that it was smooth and more akin to a handle than anything. At the top, she had taken great care to keep the face-like shape of the wood's surface unharmed. It had little in the way of detail, but, the shape of eyes and a nose and cheeks could be made out. It was kind of innocent-looking. She'd wound a soft, soot-stained rag around the 'neck' to cloak the piece of wood in, hiding all but the face. A little hood hovered over the head of it as well.

Aurelia simply followed the crowds. She heard the word souls murmured from a few strangers, and her eyes lifted up at the orbs in wonder. It wasn't long until she found herself where she was supposed to be, glancing around to see what the others had done with their dolls. Some placed theirs together in offering, others held onto theirs.

She eyed a certain dark-haired man as he placed his paper doll away from the fire. Deciding that she was content to let go of her little craft, she placed it among the others in such a way that it could stand and the rags could gently buffet with the wind, as was intended. She supposed she had made it more as a toy to play with, rather than for looks... like some had, with their rather beautiful dolls.

Turning away from the stack of dolls, she recognized Gideon, Saiden, and Sunjata among the crowd - and that dark-haired man close beside Sunjata. He must've been his husband, she realized with a glint of interest in her eyes. But her expression returned to something more guarded. She shied away from the fire and those she knew, unsure of herself in this setting.

She instead found her place sitting on a log beside another woman, "Mind if I join you while we wait?" she asked casually, turning her gaze to the animals that were acting out some sort of scene.
but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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#10
DEIMOS
the resurrected sword
More walks over Torchline sand, more elements and filaments to ponder, wonder, seethe, sink, or swim over – a glance to the darkness, to the horizon suddenly flickering and bobbing with lights, with souls, and a part of him only wanted to stop, to stare, to see if he could catch a glimpse of one he knew. Of those he cherished, loved, and missed. Temptation to not join the bonfire, to stay and linger, to cease and desist.

But he couldn’t – he couldn’t stay amongst the dead. Not while he was still living.

It’d been a difficult, hard concept for him to learn, and it slowly wound around his mind, as Zuriel bumped him forward from his back, her head pressing against his spine, gentle but apparent in her request for him not to stray. Not to go back again. Not to pause for too long, not to be so lost and adrift in the shells, in the shackles, in the ties, and in the tethers.

So the Sword wandered forward, catching glimpses of those he knew, nodding as he threaded his way towards portions of the surrounding areas not yet taken. Old habits urged him to find a place in the back, to eclipse back into shadow, and he compromised by gleaning close to a boundary, as though biding his time to escape. On the way by, the General lowered his doll amongst the others – made to bear an impression of Kiada, with flames going up and down the spine of the rags, with swirls of harpy feathers embroidered across the vestiges; for the herald she favored.
under the bludgeonings of chance
my head is bloody, but unbowed
Iris 'Siri' Acquarone
Wanderer

Age: 22 | Height: 176 | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
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#11
'Siri'

Iris could have been impersonating Ludo herself as she made her way through the fog, hood drawn to obscure her face. Was it safe for her to be here after she'd gone through so much to get away?

Not at all.

And yet, the trickster god was beckoning from her homeland's beaches, and her frustration with the herald overpowered common sense. Iris moved to melt into the crowd as it was drawn toward the flame, taking advantage of the myriad of unfamiliar faces the deity had drawn from far and wide.

She counted the names of the people likely to kill her upon discovery: Acquarone, Sokolov, Barclay...

The sweetly familiar ocean overwhelmed her senses, emboldening her. Wisps floating weightlessly like animated stars made for a stunning vision on the trail to the loudly crackling bonfire. She paced around it upon arrival, watching countless masked faces in the flickering light.

She placed her doll on top of the pile, a red string with a loop sticking out from the cloth on its back. Its body was made of wood that clicked together like old bones when it moved. The doll's shape resembled a human, its wooden body parts blocky but polished, held together with reinforced string. When the doll was moved its limbs clicked against each other like old bones.
Around it, a soft woolen cloak was draped - cut and hastily sewn, unevenly dyed into grayish and marine blue tones. It left only an opening for its feet and a face - a shard of porcelain.

When the string on its back was pulled an arm shot up from under the cloak, flipping a chunky middle finger at the observer.

Avoiding anyone vaguely familiar, she situated herself in the back. Drawing a bottle of liquor from under her cloak she popped the cork, took a swig, and waited.

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)
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#12
MELITA
Leaping and bounding, pulled and enticed, along the intermingling of lights and souls, Melita drew towards the crowd already formed, the dolls already placed. She didn’t balk, nor look, towards those floating amongst the mist and midst of beckoning vestiges and ethers – instead, focusing her attention on presiding along the bonfire, touching upon the elements that raised her. She turned the little artifact she’d made over in her hand, studied, scrutinized the inner workings of its details – of the bright, illustrious cloak, the seashell mask, the way it embodied lightness, merriment, instead of rampant death. Then she followed through on others’ motions, allowing the doll to linger and stay with its brethren, as she waved to those she recognized and knew, before proceeding into the crowd.
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
Sunjata Wrenzaok
the Flood
Archon of King's End

Age: 34 | Height: 6'5 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: King's End
Level: 15 - Strg: 76 - Dext: 73 - Endr: 75 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
PETRONELLA - Mythical - Sea Panther
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#13
// i am the man we both couldn't stand. i can't wash the dirt from my hands. what was it like to feel in love?
i can't scrub off the black from my lungs, i can't wipe off the taste from my tongue //
The first to arrive, that acknowledges him, is Saiden. Sunjata standing on the fringe, arms crossed along his chest – his gaze drifts toward the Hali and the dancing doll in his hands. “Mine could be better, but it’s there.” He offers, jutting his chin toward the particular pile he’d already placed his doll at. A hint of surprise laces through his bones when Loren’s words flit through his mind, gaze scanning the crowd for Loren.

Hey Loren. He rumbles back, putting every ounce of focus he could into keeping his anxieties and paranoia to himself. Just fine. He sends in addition, right at the time Nate’s hand meets the middle of his lower back and Sunjata’s guard begins to wane. His arms loosen from their hold along his chest, his gaze slipping down to his husband, an arm snaking around the Ascended in return. “Hey.” It’s offered softly, warmly, despite the cold of his tones before to everyone else – the shadow flickering in the peripheral of his vision waning as his focus lands on Nate and the stacks around.
i am the shadow driving the hearse, what was it like to feel in love? what was it like to feel?
SUNJATA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Aisha Khai
Swordmaster / Deepfrost Shield / Guildmaster

Age: 28 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
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#14
AISHA
and now we're breeding a feeling of animosity
Aisha arrived on the scene in awe of the darkness, and of the spirits that weaved in between it's tarry tendrils. She followed the people but also those souls, and the lines of dolls that already scattered the pathway. So many people had showed, it was pretty exciting, even if they were technically her competition. It brought a festive atmosphere to the dark night, the bonfire just one of the many lights she saw in the crowd.

On her back she wore her straw pack on her back, in it the doll she'd made just yesterday with Anden. It was her mother, or at least a figure wearing her mother's dress. One of her sweetest memories of the woman, wrapped up in straw and sunny paints, creating the silken fiery dress she'd always admired. The face on the doll was a black circle of charcoal, dark but feeding the fire. She was proud of what she'd made, even if it was only a figment of recollection.

There are many friends and acquaintances here tonight, too many to speak to now. So she settles near the person she knew best, who had characteristically placed himself at the back. She nudged his arm, reaching in her pack and pulling out her own warm hued doll. She held it next to his, looking over the painted rags and feathers he'd hewn. "It's better than my targets huh," she joked, a rare humor at her own expense.
fear has the sharpest teeth, it eats and eats and eats


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