Good Morrow mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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goodmorrow2023-12-24 07:13 am
morrowmods) wrote in goodmorrow2023-12-24 07:13 am
Entry tags:
Event: As the burden grows, so too does my purity
as the burden grows, so too does my purity
if you think my winter is cold
Snow-Covered
In the weeks since the storm, the temperature has remained well below freezing. There have been a series of light snowstorms that blanketed the village in white, with bootmarks naturally creating paths along the areas that see the most traffic. Hoods and mittens can preserve a bit of core temperature, but breath turns into visible smoke while speaking, both outdoors and inside. With no relief in sight, the villagers are beginning to murmur about the omens for a bad winter, and the fears that they've not prepared enough to make it through.
Many lumberjacks are seeking escorts to deal with the wildlife as they venture toward the wooded spaces to the west of the buried farmlands, citing a need to chop lumber while it is most dry and brittle. Those who take them up on their offers will usually hear a talk about the sorts of creatures that sometimes wander through a snowfall this soon after a summoning's finished. Borne from the frost, they lumber about the woods stirring up mini-blizzards and leaving treacherous terrain covered by a blanket of whiteness. Sensible travelers endeavor to pack with the expectation that they'll have to defend against hypothermia, harsh terrain, and monstrous entities alike. It's said that the frost creatures are drawn to sounds, so anyone who accepts an escort position would do well to expect to add "bodyguard" to the job description before long.
Many lumberjacks are seeking escorts to deal with the wildlife as they venture toward the wooded spaces to the west of the buried farmlands, citing a need to chop lumber while it is most dry and brittle. Those who take them up on their offers will usually hear a talk about the sorts of creatures that sometimes wander through a snowfall this soon after a summoning's finished. Borne from the frost, they lumber about the woods stirring up mini-blizzards and leaving treacherous terrain covered by a blanket of whiteness. Sensible travelers endeavor to pack with the expectation that they'll have to defend against hypothermia, harsh terrain, and monstrous entities alike. It's said that the frost creatures are drawn to sounds, so anyone who accepts an escort position would do well to expect to add "bodyguard" to the job description before long.
even the dead can die again
Devotion
CW: fire, burning bodies, body horror and transformation
With the weather as bad as it currently is, it seems as though the village is moving up against the limitations of its confined space. Not all natural resources are renewable, and the limited messages with civilizations outside the barrier don't take kindly to requests for aid. The concern rippling through the town has altered the normal large ceremony of the month. Traditionally, devotional ceremonies are lavish events held within ornate halls decorated with painstaking finery. But this time, the sermon takes the form of a procession. The congregation of devotees and otherworldly visitors are hooded rather than masked this time, draped in heavy cloaks and given candles to burn en route to their destination. Once lit, the candles burn with a green glow that gives an uncanny aura to the group as it travels at night in single file.
Their destination is a clear patch of white along the path toward the elders' inaccessible hill. Where last month's impossible patch of green seemed to exist, now the tundra is fitted with materials necessary to build a bonfire. As soon as the clearing comes into view, the sermon begins. This month, the discussion is less of a proof of love than it is an open entreaty. Their community has been wronged, constantly and for generations. These are people who have been unflinchingly devour, and for their energies have been sequestered away with naught but their own faith to aid in their survival. And in this moment, as the winter grows harsher than normal, it is their faith that they wish will see them through once more.
One by one, the devotees are instructed to toss their candles into the growing pyre, bidding the green flames to grow into one another until the little embers meet and connect, until the fire suddenly bursts out in a sudden explosion.
Those unfortunate enough to be caught in the flames' blast might expect to feel pain. It ought to burn. It ought to create suffering. But instead, the uncontrolled fire feels strangely safe, somehow. The flame is warmth. It is a relief from the biting cold. Somehow, it feels something close to love. However skeptical a newcomer might have been before this evening, it feels as if that mindset is burned away, along with what some might consider to be all good sense entirely. The feeling of security creates an unbearable urge to embrace more of the fire, to become part of its kindling, to become one with it.
CWs most applicable in the following paragraph Those who escaped the initial explosion will watch strangers and companions both be overtaken. Flaming bodies, faces charred beyond recognition, launch themselves deeper into the fire, crying out in ecstasy rather than suffering, scrambling for more of the obliterating connectedness. The humanoid bodies seem less so as they melt and dissolve into the flames, which now seem to crackle with dozens of voices singing out in wordless euphoria as they become one with the flames. There is something strangely seductive about the song, a siren calling out to friends and onlookers. It's possible still to be enthralled by it, to be convinced to wander into the flame and join in...
The ceremony continues until the sun rises. Only then do the elders disperse the base of the flames, leaving a tangle of altered bodies in the wake of everything. The Old Ones have seen fit to deliver them elementals to combat the winter, they declare to whoever had the will to resist the flames. It is a glorious day.
Their destination is a clear patch of white along the path toward the elders' inaccessible hill. Where last month's impossible patch of green seemed to exist, now the tundra is fitted with materials necessary to build a bonfire. As soon as the clearing comes into view, the sermon begins. This month, the discussion is less of a proof of love than it is an open entreaty. Their community has been wronged, constantly and for generations. These are people who have been unflinchingly devour, and for their energies have been sequestered away with naught but their own faith to aid in their survival. And in this moment, as the winter grows harsher than normal, it is their faith that they wish will see them through once more.
One by one, the devotees are instructed to toss their candles into the growing pyre, bidding the green flames to grow into one another until the little embers meet and connect, until the fire suddenly bursts out in a sudden explosion.
Those unfortunate enough to be caught in the flames' blast might expect to feel pain. It ought to burn. It ought to create suffering. But instead, the uncontrolled fire feels strangely safe, somehow. The flame is warmth. It is a relief from the biting cold. Somehow, it feels something close to love. However skeptical a newcomer might have been before this evening, it feels as if that mindset is burned away, along with what some might consider to be all good sense entirely. The feeling of security creates an unbearable urge to embrace more of the fire, to become part of its kindling, to become one with it.
CWs most applicable in the following paragraph Those who escaped the initial explosion will watch strangers and companions both be overtaken. Flaming bodies, faces charred beyond recognition, launch themselves deeper into the fire, crying out in ecstasy rather than suffering, scrambling for more of the obliterating connectedness. The humanoid bodies seem less so as they melt and dissolve into the flames, which now seem to crackle with dozens of voices singing out in wordless euphoria as they become one with the flames. There is something strangely seductive about the song, a siren calling out to friends and onlookers. It's possible still to be enthralled by it, to be convinced to wander into the flame and join in...
The ceremony continues until the sun rises. Only then do the elders disperse the base of the flames, leaving a tangle of altered bodies in the wake of everything. The Old Ones have seen fit to deliver them elementals to combat the winter, they declare to whoever had the will to resist the flames. It is a glorious day.
you could have been anyone's ghost
Flames and Ashes
Those who succumbed to the pyre will find themselves waking pleasantly, as if from a deep, comfortable sleep. Their robes have been burned away, but there is no sense of cold to trouble them. Their bodies have managed to rediscover their previous shapes and the divisions between each separate entity, through their skin is the same ethereal green as everything good and safe ought to be. Their hair is tipped with unkept flames, and their eyes have grown wild with a feral edge. But they are free now, they're told, to return to the village and continue to be its salvation. They'll have to separate from the comfort of their hot-blooded siblings, but it's for the greater good. It makes sense, somehow, even if it means leaving the safety of their current surroundings (of their birthplace? No, that can't be right...).
The unaffected will be left to make certain that the transformed manage to accomplish more than wandering out into the wilderness setting things ablaze. The Old Ones' gifts are overwhelming at times, they explain, and the creatures will likely be erratic and mercurial for the first several days. They may struggle to recall mortal conventions -- table manners and other little things, but what they've lost pales in comparison to what they've gained. They can generate heat without the aid of starting a fire and burning through their reserves of wood. They will be able to heat homes with their mere presence, and thaw the things that were iced shut. They are the answer to prayers.
And so it will maintain, for at least the next several weeks. The fire elemtentals will begin their tenure quite wild, far more monstrous and closer to the occasional beast that needs to be slain. (And should slaying be considered, they do seem to be easily felled by the frost creatures in the woods.) But they do seem eager to follow directions, even then. The cold, shivering things surrounding them seem so pathetic, it's easy to lend them a little flare or a warm hand to hold. Over the next several days, more of their memories will return easily enough. But as they come closer to themselves, they will be far less inclined to blindly follow orders. Normal levels of agency might being different dynamics to the fire-blessed's abilities, for as long as they can enjoy those abilities untilt they too wear away.
The unaffected will be left to make certain that the transformed manage to accomplish more than wandering out into the wilderness setting things ablaze. The Old Ones' gifts are overwhelming at times, they explain, and the creatures will likely be erratic and mercurial for the first several days. They may struggle to recall mortal conventions -- table manners and other little things, but what they've lost pales in comparison to what they've gained. They can generate heat without the aid of starting a fire and burning through their reserves of wood. They will be able to heat homes with their mere presence, and thaw the things that were iced shut. They are the answer to prayers.
And so it will maintain, for at least the next several weeks. The fire elemtentals will begin their tenure quite wild, far more monstrous and closer to the occasional beast that needs to be slain. (And should slaying be considered, they do seem to be easily felled by the frost creatures in the woods.) But they do seem eager to follow directions, even then. The cold, shivering things surrounding them seem so pathetic, it's easy to lend them a little flare or a warm hand to hold. Over the next several days, more of their memories will return easily enough. But as they come closer to themselves, they will be far less inclined to blindly follow orders. Normal levels of agency might being different dynamics to the fire-blessed's abilities, for as long as they can enjoy those abilities untilt they too wear away.
ooc notes
Here we are with a winter wonderland to carry us into the new year!
If you're interested in beating up some ice monsters and prefer to have stats for them, feel free to take inspiration from this ice elemental and ice mephit. For visuals, though, the giant in the linked image is probably most accurate. (Weird how that big ol' ice monster seems to be managing to grow some fines in it. Maybe that'll come up again later on.)
If you'll be playing the fire elemental route, it's natural to have questions that I didn't mention or might not have considered! Don't be shy about swinging by the questions thread for clarification or to work out something you're noodling about. But if it's about cosmetics: the design of your fire-character is entirely up to you. Green skin, green fire, go wild with anything else you want to do.
Happy Holidays! Next up on the agenda is our mid-January AC/R check-in meme. Welcome to our new friends, and looking forward to what the future brings.
If you're interested in beating up some ice monsters and prefer to have stats for them, feel free to take inspiration from this ice elemental and ice mephit. For visuals, though, the giant in the linked image is probably most accurate. (Weird how that big ol' ice monster seems to be managing to grow some fines in it. Maybe that'll come up again later on.)
If you'll be playing the fire elemental route, it's natural to have questions that I didn't mention or might not have considered! Don't be shy about swinging by the questions thread for clarification or to work out something you're noodling about. But if it's about cosmetics: the design of your fire-character is entirely up to you. Green skin, green fire, go wild with anything else you want to do.
Happy Holidays! Next up on the agenda is our mid-January AC/R check-in meme. Welcome to our new friends, and looking forward to what the future brings.
no subject
[He just knows that she feels different compared to the last time he talked to her, but he can't really figure out what it is exactly.
To be fair, even his memory of how he got here (and when) seems a little hazy, but he doesn't seem to be questioning it.]
Quite a few things don't seem right... But I can't quite put my finger on it.
no subject
Nothing happens.]
It depends on the roots.
no subject
Isn't there a potion we could fashion to bring them back to life?
no subject
[Ivy makes a small, frustrated sound, but the question does pull something out of the holes in her memory.]
There's a formula that could do it, but we don't have all of the necessary components. But if it's still alive...
[She reaches out her hand and wills the singed sprout to grow, despite the snow and the damage.
Her powers aren't what they were at home, though. At least not yet.]
no subject
He rather prefers to keep his hands away for now.]
Even if we only have some of the components, shouldn't the formula help a little?
no subject
She frowns, and the glow behind her eyes smolders fitfully.]
Maybe. It could also make it much worse.
no subject
But someone here needs help, the plants need help, so he'll sigh, put his hand flat on the ground and try to draw out some power from his fingertips. Instinct has him itching to push out another green flame, but he tamps that down, shakes his hand and tries to draw something from deeper within him. It isn't much, but at least it isn't burning the little root he's focused his attention on.
With a little more concentration and effort, the little root even starts to perk up. It might even look just a tiny bit greener.]
This plant is looking a little better, I think.
no subject
[She sounds unsure, curiosity and an uncommon amount of vulnerability in her tone as she cups her empty hands in front of her, frowning down and the green glow that seems to pool in them though her skin.]
The same could be said of us too, I suppose. We're looking a little better?
no subject
It would seem that we might have fallen into some kind of curse.
[It's got to be something like that, right? That's the most logical explanation to him.]
How are you feeling?