Site Wide Event It ends in fire

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spark bird
It is a truly horrible thing to care so deeply and yet to be so incredibly destructive.

Trapped within the bubble (caged?) the spark bird keeps itself hidden away, bleeding into myth rather than burning those who get too close. Its natural habitat is in rocky places where its sparks cannot start fires. But here in the bubble, everything seems flammable. Even hidden away as it is, still sometimes it starts blazes that ravage entire fields of crops. For the creature with a heart of gold and a body of chaos, LongNight is the worst. It could do so much. Its light could protect ... but its body could kill ...

Oh but their screams. It can hear them, all the way in the glade, each sound like a knife into its electric core. They scream and die, while the bird hides away, fearful and in agony, until it can take no more.

Once again they have built it a perch, but this year it is used as bait against them. Bait to lure those who had heard of the bird and wanted only to see its light. But the monsters took their hope and used it against them. And in turn, the bird took to the skies.

Like a shooting star it descended upon the Sanctuary, landing on the perch.  Sparks showered down, fizzling harmlessly in the snow. Luckily Rory had been smart enough to place the perch a safe distance away from all the buildings, so at least for now, the bird's presence was not immediately dangerous.

With a loud trill, the bird radiated light. From inside the Temple and Rathskeller cumulative cries of "did you see that?" and "where is that light coming from?" drowned out all other conversation. The monsters lurking hissed and retreated into the shadows, but the bird's light reigned supreme.

As the crowd gathered in the protective halo of the bird's light, two in particular were singled out: Rory and Jigano. For their efforts in restoring the perch, it bestowed two of its feathers. Plucking them out with its beak, it dropped them into the snow where they crackled and burned like two sparklers.

THE SPARK BIRD IS NOW PROTECTING THE ENTIRE SANCTUARY (and so all boards within). For the remained of LN, you can be outside in these areas!

For their participation in the KQ Rory and Jigano each receive +2 stats to be distributed as they choose, as well as a Spark Bird feather!  You would also have a received a feather that could revive someone from the dead, but the entire party needed to complete the KQ!

Feather of the Spark Bird | Provides a constant source of light, and can be used to start fires from even the most inflammable of objects and even in terrible conditions (rain, wind, etc).
Maea Valair

Age: 29 | Height: 156 cm / 5'1 ft | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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She followed along in the wake of the crowd that burst out from the temple, but lingered in the doorway as primal fear and a lifetime of terror made her disbelieve what her eyes were seeing. You did not go outside during the LongNight. Never, not for anything. But there was light blazing across the sky, melting snow from the rooftops and bathing the sanctuary in warmth. Not the sun, no, but a creature she'd only heard of in the legends, the stories and childrens tales.

Had she ever actually believed it to be real?

Yet here it was, resting on the perch to safeguard them by its wondrous light, just as her father vad always said. As if it was the most natural thing. Maea gaped at the bird, and was startled to find tears streaming down her face, to realize that she was laughing even as she cried. The Spark Bird. It was real. It was everything she had ever hoped, dreamed it would be, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

For the first time in her life, Maea broke the rules and went outside.
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
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Where there had been darkness, now there was light. Windows that had been carefully covered over glowed through their protections now, and one of the nurses came excitedly into the room where a white fox rested beside a blond hunter. Still wary about revealing his transformation to others, the fox waited until she had left before he jumped to the ground and flowed into the shape of a man again, looking back to his friend with a tilt of his head and a brow cocked in invitation.

He walked at Rory's pace, Isuma scampering at their feet, and he sucked in a breath of shock at seeing the Temple door standing open now, and light streaming in. It wasn't the light of the sun, but it was a gentle, welcoming glow all the same, and he had to resist the urge to run to it and assuage the sharp twinge of curiosity that thrummed in his chest once more, after it had been missing for what felt like far too long.

Outside, a little ways from the Temple where the perch had been constructed it now stood complete, crowned in beauty and feathers of skyfire that crackled and glowed with radiance.

It had not been in vain.

Tears prickled at his eyes as he reached out to touch Rory's hand, eyes searching for Amalia and Edrei to share their triumph. Even if they might not recognize the fox in the man, still they deserved congratulations and to share in the relief that washed through him.

More was yet to come as they approached, feathers given to them by the Spark Bird herself, gifts of light and fire that had Jigano bowing deeply in respect and gratitude. "Thank you," he said softly, kneeling to pick his up and staying there a moment in gratitude before he rose to reach a hand out to Amalia, a smile breaking across his face as he gave gave voice to his thought from earlier. "It was not in vain."
Remi Taliesin
the Lullaby

Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Nomadic
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ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
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The light was overwhelming. It blazed through even the most darkened windows, making the curtains appear like there was fire bleeding around their edges. With a gasp, Remi threw back the doors of the temple, light flooding the high ceilings immediately.

Exiting with Isla at his side, he closed the doors behind him—the presence of the light was comforting, but still he was distrustful—and warily approached the perch. Speaking silently to the unicorn at his side, the alchemist nodded at something she'd said, before turning his pale stare up towards the creature. A smile twisted onto his lips, as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his friend, both gazing upwards in awe and confusion.

Loving you was sunshine, but then it poured
& I lost so much more than my senses
'Cause loving you had consequences
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Ronin Taliesin
the Supernova

Age: 33 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Nomadic
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SUGAR - Mythical - Dragon (Ice Breath)
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The light was such that it hurt his eyes to be out in it, but nothing would have stopped Ronin in that moment, from following the rest of the world out into its golden warmth. Without any shadow to hide in the guildmaster looked truly gaunt - a haunted man with days old stubble, cradling the most precious thing in his possession in the crook of his arm. Aoife made not a peep as they headed to the square, where the Spark Bird shone its warmth and others were already gathered.

He spotted Remi and smiled gently, though he didn't approach. The socialite in him had died alongside Vanya, or at least that was what it felt like. No, he was content on the fringes, rocking his daughter gently and letting the warmth soak into his bones. He still felt cold, though. He didn't know if he was able to feel warm, anymore. Not really.

if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving
Vervain Calob
Huntress / Witch

Age: 44 | Height: 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
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COCO - Regular - Cloud Wyrm
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The huntress
Whilst the bird - magnificent, divine almost - did not herald daybreak, it was more than close enough for Vervain. Still tired from the healing she had done, and a touch nauseated from the life budding within her, she was slow on her feet as she headed through the snows towards the square. But she made it - like hell would anything stop her - and she found herself drawing up beside Remi, one hand cradling her fledgling bump, the other touching to his shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze.

"Just when we needed it most," she murmured with her eyes still on the Spark Bird. Her smile was sweet, easy, almost childlike. This truly was the stuff of fairytales, and Vai would hold it in her memory for a long, long time to come.
Samuel Wordsworth
Book maker/seller

Age: 34 | Height: 5' 5" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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Tell me little dear if you've only lived here,
have you ever really lived at all?

Sam appeared out of the temple not long after Remi, less nervous than he usually would have been about the other man leaving because of the odd light coming in through the windows. It was both comforting and unnerving in it's strangeness. The thought sparkbird...? crossed his mind before leaving again, Sam dismissing it as a childhood tale that could not be true.

But yet...he left the temple and followed the others and his mouth dropped open at the sight. Absolutely confused, amazed and working on autopilot, Sam walked up next to Remi and placed his hand on the small of his back, eyes fixed on the mighty bird and the light it cast.

He said nothing, a light smile on his face but no other visible emotion.


Age: 35 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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Though magic had brought him back from the brink, and done most of the healing for his battered body, he still required more sleep than he was comfortable with—though in a way, it was a blessing in disguise. When asleep, he could dream lightly of the horrors of the world, but he did not have to endure being conscious in his stone cage. He did not have to spend hours on end fretting about his ponies, fretting over Wessex, fretting over his dogs, fretting over Amalia's bleak mood...

So he slept when the Spark Bird flew across their little settlement.

He did not sleep when the sound level in the Infirmary rose; he woke with a start, panic clawing its way through his heart and soul—were the monsters inside?

His senses strained in a terrified rush, listening, listening for the hush of that voice, listening for the insidious creep of his own thoughts, listened for the darkness of his soul to come out into the light and seek out every fragility, every insecurity.

But there was nothing. Just: the Spark Bird.

The Spark Bird.

The what the actual fuck now?

Rory looked at the fox. The fox jumped off the bed and became a man.

Rory got out of bed.

Rory walked out.

Into the light.

His eyes were slits against the fiery glow, his shadow long and slanted. The burns and blisters creeping across his face glistened wetly in the light. They were only skin deep now, thanks to Vervain and Isla, and still ached with a dull throb—and stung like the devil when touched.

At last, he could breathe the free air again. At last, he was outside of the Temple, even though the sun had still not risen from its bed.

And towering above them all, sitting upon the perch, was the Spark Bird: myth made memory again. It was radiant, it was beautiful, and it shone in the night, moving Rory to a reverent silence. He saw tears glittering in the light on the upturned faces around him, and felt his own eyes grow wet and his vision blurred.

It was real. They had done it.

A hand ghosted across his, and without thinking about it he turned his palm against it, a question or an invitation.

It was only as more gathered that Rory realized that the light fell the brightest upon him and Jigano. He was no hero; he had not ridden into the dark for the regard of others, but for.. for.. for faith and stupidity and the rush, the thrill of it.

But mostly for faith. Mostly for Amalia. Mostly to get the damned fox out of the barn.

He did not need the recognition; did not want the attention, yet the bird plucked two feathers from its body and dropped before them. They sizzled in the snow. And perhaps he did not feel like he needed the thanks, but he would not refuse such a gift. "Thank you," he said as he knelt to pick it up by the stem. "Thank you for coming."

Then Jigano was talking to someone else, and Rory realized that it was Amalia. A bright smile spread across his face. "We did it! It's real!" he said—laughed—as he threw his arms around her, wrapping her in a celebratory hug (and perhaps singeing the back of her clothes a little, as he didn't quite know to be careful with the feather yet).
Bastien De Rosieres
the Dionysian
Ambassador for the Hollowed Grounds / Artist

Age: 40 | 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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I'm all dressed up and naked
I see what's mine and take it

Bastien had been sulking hiding since his transformation, but even he could not ignore the shine of light through the windows. Limping and hobbling with a blanket he'd found in the temple over his head to hide his true identity, he made his way to the temple doors and out.

Seeing those he recognised casting shadows in the magnificent light of the bird he stayed far back, just observing. His conversation with Rory came to mind, but in his current mood all he could think was 'stupid goddamn idiot was fucking right I guess'. Not the most polite admission of wrong.

Far too wrapped up in his own problems to fully appreciate what was happening, he walked back into the temple and to the bar, taking advantage of everyone's attention being elsewhere to drink a whole bottle of something strong.
Edrei Launceleyn
the Rapacious

Age: 28 | Height: 5'7 | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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happy ending? sorry this isn't disney.
Edy felt...a bit prickly.

Something about the merriment, the light, that blue-eyed cunt yelling we did it like he hadn't just being a useless ponytail in a coat the whole time. But what really shook her was seeing Jigano stood next to him, and then bend down to pick up the feather.

The white hair. The blue eyes. The way Bobi had tried to protect that useless as fuck fox.

It had been Jigano the whole time. Her almost-friend.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Edy watches Jigano reach out to Amalia. Jigano holding Rory's hand, Rory hugging Amalia. So fucking cute how the three fucking amigos were all patting themselves on the back.

You know what they'd forgotten though? Just a quick Oh thx for saving me, Edy. or how about a hey, how are YOU doing Edy? But nah. They had time for each other, but not for her. That was fine. No big deal. It didn't hurt, or bring up feelings of resentment, or how everyone basically just thought she was one big walking shit-show.

Edy didn't need friends. She didn't need their hugs or kind words, and you know what she certainly didn't fucking need? A goddamn feather than made fire. She had more than enough of that on her own.

Turning heel, Edy decided to give a great big old fuck-you-very-much to LongNight and go home. Bea was probably bored shitless anyways, and right now Edy wanted to be anywhere but the company of adults.
Remi Taliesin
the Lullaby

Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Nomadic
Level: 14 - Strg: 67 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 93 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
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Remi glanced across the crowd to see Ronin. Offering his friend a slight nod, Remi sighed. This will take time, Isla advised silently, feeling as well as seeing where Remi's eyes had wandered. I know Remi replied with a sigh. It weighed heavily on his heart, the hurt he saw on the guild master's face, and though he knew Isla was right, he still wished he could displace even a little of that pain.

Glancing towards Vai, Remi shot her a crooked smile and stretched his arm around her shoulder. "I prefer this kind of excitement to the death-sort." He said with a relieved chuckle, leaning his head against her shoulder for a moment. "Oh..and...It is a long story, but, Isla is now..." Glancing towards the dark unicorn mare who nodded her head in acknowledgement, Remi shrugged his shoulders. "I will explain later, but I have heard about all the healing you have been doing, and Isla says she is happy to take some off your hands. Especially  seeing as you have other things to worry about keeping alive." He added with a glance towards her stomach.

And then...Remi saw Jigano's hand brush against Rory's and something inside of his stomach gave an unhelpful sort of twinge. It wasn't jealousy, but perhaps a close cousin, or childhood friend. Not quite cold... more like lukewarm when you wanted something refreshing, or the indeterminate feeling of being too warm in bed, but too cold when you stuck your foot out of the blankets. Oh, he thought to himself, straightening slightly. He couldn't quite tell if the cause of his discomfort was because it was Rory? Or because it was Jigano?

The sudden appearance of Sam at his side was like a splash of cold water. Here he was thinking of grasses and summer winds and hands that didn't quite touch, when there was Sam. Sam who he'd had every part of, who loved him. "Hey you." The alchemist whispered softly, wrapping an arm around Sam's shoulders and pulling him close.

He was such an absolute idiot.

Loving you was sunshine, but then it poured
& I lost so much more than my senses
'Cause loving you had consequences
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel

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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I took the stars from my eyes, I made a map



It creeps through the crevices, permeates the cracks in well-boarded windows and illuminates the shadows of silent halls. Insidious, infectious, it breaks through their defenses, piercing the temple with luminescent beams and leaving motes of dust lying in its wake. It is beautiful, perfect, untouchable, warm.

It is light, and it is real.

At first she does not believe it, cannot believe it, because to believe it and be wrong would hurt to much, shatter her already fractured soul. So she tries to rationalize (the braziers are lit), to explain it away (Long Night ended early), even as her she drifts, entranced, through the awakened halls, the antler clutched defensively in her quivering hands. Where she goes, the light follows - or was it already there?

Her heartbeat flutters and jolts in her chest. It isn't what she dreams (what if it is?), they failed (what if they succeeded?), and she does dare to hope (she cannot help but hope). Stepping toward the temple door, Amalia steels herself and swallows, mentally bracing for the worst. There are a million possible explanations, each more likely than the one she yearns for. Her fingers ease around the handle, and with a firm motion she pushes out, ready to face her disappointment, another reminder of how she failed.

Except it isn't.

Or rather, it is.

Dream-like. That is the only way to describe it, the feeling which wells in Amalia's mind, overtaking her senses and leaving her at a loss. Is she dreaming? It feels like it, and yet even when she blinks the scene is still there, perfect and surreal, something out of one of her grandmother's tales. Without a thought the girl drifts forward, her body moving of its own accord: her mind is too entrapped by wonder to tell her muscles what to do. The only thing in her eyes is the creature, majestic and perfect and beautiful and bright and real, it's real, and they did it, and--

A voice, a laugh, and she is in an embrace, caught by strong arms and kind words and helpless to do anything but return the man's hug. The hand holding the antler wraps around his shoulder and her face finds a place among his tangle of tawny hair, comfortable and connected, warm and safe. Another hand slips into her free one, and she looks up to see Jigano standing there, stalwart and peaceful, guiding and calm, his blue eyes and pale hair gleaming in the Spark Bird's light, and at once the girl knows.

She squeezes his hand, and there is laughter, and tears, and she realizes they are both hers.

They are both hers. Her team, her companions, her friends. "We did it," Amalia whispers, breathless with elation, her dark eyes wet and bright with tears. She knows she ought to release her hold on both the men, but she isn't ready, not yet, and so she clings as long as they will let her, finally feeling anchored back to the world. Over Rory's shoulder she looks back upon the bird, wonder and joy illuminating her face. "We did it. It's real. It came."

Her grandmother would be proud.
And I knew that somehow I could
find my way back
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 68 - Endr: 69 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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And in your darkest hour,
I hold secrets flame
He was not normally drawn to the light; his preference manifested in the gloom, where the rest of the world left him alone to brood, wither, and decay. It worked for him now and again, easy to lie in wait for the next disaster, for the next ruin, aligned eerily in the eldritch confines – but every so often his piercing gaze tilted towards luminescence, towards brightness, the shine, the radiance, the flare of brilliance, and wondered how it was achieved, obtained, and if he even had a chance. Maybe the opportunities had fizzled away, shaking their heads at his animosity and acrimony, at his inability to do anything but erode. Perhaps he was too far gone, and any of his speculation was too late, spent and drained away from his hollowed vessel, another ghost dragging its chains.

But the flames rippled across the skies, ignited the heavens, and the beast wondered if they were to be caught ablaze, to be burned to ashes, to be sent back into embers and coals. The depths of his gaze caught the flickers, the outreach, the emboldened, audacious spread of fire and light, and remembered souls born to be infernos, bold and intrepid from the moment they took their first breath to their last. Father, he almost whispered – but he knew it wasn’t Ignatius. There would’ve been buoyant, wild laughter. There would’ve been ferocious, savage exuberance, a force untamed, unbound, unleashed upon the world.

As he tipped his head though, studied, followed the mercurial, tempestuous individuals and essences, ducked his skull against the warm wash of combustion and luster, there had been something freed, liberated, sparking and smoldering against the darker traces of the void. But as he stood there, behind the gathering, murmuring crowd, he waited to be eradicated in the ferocity of its existence: beautiful and incandescent, seemingly above all others, beyond the gods and goddesses, the traces of deities and demons alike. He was unworthy in the beacon’s presence, yet, like the rest, granted himself the instance to be bathed in some form of Elysium.

The Reaper’s gaze riveted from one inhabitant to the other, gauging their reactions, pleased to see some others again, (living, breathing) Amalia and triumphant Rory, those that had accomplished the tasks set before them, those that held significant meaning to the light reigning over them. He didn’t approach any; wasn’t deserving of the merit, but settled for a content, quiet smile across his lips, arms crossed over his chest as a haven, a refuge, seemed to finally spark into the ominous procession.

master of nothing place
of recoil and grace
Melita Najya
the Honeybee

Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 55 - Endr: 55 - Luck: 55 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
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The fire radiated, pulsed, inside her brain, wove its magnificent threads through her mind; she wasn’t satisfied until she’d run outside the Rathskeller and into the columns of brandished light. She chased after remnants of gold and red, filaments of disaster and ruin, intervals of embers and plumes, the brightest, widest smile on her face – for this was it the Spark Bird, stronger, wilder, and more amazing than her imagination could ever conjure. A sense of pride tore through her, for she’d helped, in some way or form, before monsters and machinations, in building the perch, in trying to lure it here, back to them, and it allowed a wild bout of laughter to conjure its way through her throat. There was no point in waving towards it brilliant spectacle, cheering, or pointing, so she simply grabbed hold of Fangorn in her arms and ran into the abyss, weaving her way through forms and bodies, basking in the glow of peace and refuge, in the lack of calamity and disdain. Her heart fluttered, and everything was light, good again. Her head tipped back just to behold every flicker of its wings, every beacon of coals and cinders, every paragon, every virtue, tipped and dipped from its plumage. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered to her gourd, to the wind, to the passing night, realizing her luck at being able to see any of this at all. Perhaps it was a sign of deliverance, a gesture of good things to come, serendipity and kismet, serenity and tranquility, everything pointing to the heavens rather than ruin. She could hope. She could dream. Sometimes it was all she had.

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