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BWP in a land of gods and monsters - Printable Version

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in a land of gods and monsters - Rebellion - 1/28/2026

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It had finally happened — of course not the way the rebellion had wanted it; clean cut from the festering ties of gods. But bloody, like they had always expected it to be. For the proclaimed peaceful and benevolent gods, the image of ivy vines prying their way into maws and sequestering lungs, squeezing tightly, fracturing land that opened up pits of fire; exposing what they had truly always meant to do the wolves that congregated there — for if you can't compromise nor bend them to your will, then slay them, and start again, right?

The smattering of cosmos saved those left from the rapture, mixing what was left of the stardust, souls, and matter. Yet, it does not allow rest, at least, not for all.


Rebel awoke in a fit of coughing; lungs seizing for something that was not dust or slithering green vines. A headache hammered its way through his head — his whole body throbbing with phantom pains. Everything seemed hazy; his memories, the feeling of... realness. His entire body felt sore, as if he'd slumbered for a thousand years and was finally shaking the growing ivy and rocks that had overcome him in the meantime. Upon finally realizing there was a light behind his eyelids, does he think to open them, squinting back as if to prepare himself for the blinding light of a dragon's flames, and the blaring heat to follow. But he is met with none of his fears. Instead, there is a land of peace around him. Pure of destruction from an immortal's touch.

Finally, the man found a way to his paws, believing it to be more painful than it was; more just an ache than what would have been the cataclysm of being pulled apart and put back together again. Though without dull pain, Rebel felt like he was hungover, his legs unsteady, wobbling like a young fawn. Ironic, due to the male's muscular build. Unsure, he scanned his surroundings, feeling as if he was in this new world alone. Was he?

The chirping of the birds was foreign, like a sound he hadn't heard in decades — it almost seemed fake, like a ruse. Rebel's ears flicked at the noise, but it proved his previous thought wrong. He was not alone. He shivered, finding his shortcut fur, made for the desert ridges and reddened mountain valleys, too thin to provide warmth.

Betraying the instincts within him, Rebel called out, C-Co-orbin? It comes out rusted, quieter than he would have liked, and for someone who may not even exist here. And so, he clears his throat and tries again, Hello? A simpler question, to anyone who may find him. But in speaking, realizing that the first thing he may need is water.

Ronan

RE: in a land of gods and monsters - Ronan - 1/31/2026

skill — cartographer 1/5
ronan had grown tired of being stuck in place. he’d spent close to a month within the confines of the summit’s borders, unwilling to leave the community without a right hand to lead in his absence. but with prey dwindling and hunger rising, ronan would do whatever he had to to make sure his people were fed.
and so he left early that morning, despite his fears eating at the back of his mind. his hunting trip would be three days at most, too long to leave them without him present. what if something happened while he was gone? twyla’s condition could worsen, and she could fall ill. the woman already didn’t eat the way she should, but the struggles now would only worsen it if he wasn’t successful. saoirse was still healing; her fresh scarring still raw from the winter’s icy bite. and the man flicker struggled to see as it was, but with the faint sunlight, he could be lost. ronan shook his head, an attempt to shake the thoughts from his mind. it’d do him no good to linger on things he couldn’t prevent with his absence.
the sound of coughing broke the silence of the fields, tearing the male’s attention away from his task. it sounded as if it were some yards away, distant but close enough for discomfort. ronan turned his head in the general direction of the sound and began to follow it, ears perked for any other sounds. eventually, a broken hello carried towards him and the speaker came into view. the stranger was dark-furred and short, not much a danger if he were honest.
“you seem lost,” he called clearly, his voice carrying over the space between them. he stood tall, chin lifted but not arrogantly. no, more of a man confident and sure of himself in any situation he found himself in.