10/2/2025, 4:19 AM
Artifact Discovered : 「 The Orb 」
All those who discovered the relevant Runes -
Fiora Aelia Kirain Ketamine Jamila Phoenix Rising
- feel compelled to journey to this place and are led by a glowing blue shimmer in the air. It is purely optional to post here and no bonus is rewarded; this is simply for interaction if desired.
There is a three-day timer to post, and then the thread will conclude on 10/5.
Fiora Aelia Kirain Ketamine Jamila Phoenix Rising
- feel compelled to journey to this place and are led by a glowing blue shimmer in the air. It is purely optional to post here and no bonus is rewarded; this is simply for interaction if desired.
There is a three-day timer to post, and then the thread will conclude on 10/5.
Your party pads silently across the mist-draped expanse, silhouettes blinking in and out of visibility with every step forward. The moors seem to stretch endlessly, a sea of rolling hills blurring into one another, heather and grass slick with evening dew; you note how thick the air feels as an almost tangible weight presses down upon you like a heap of stones. Sound seems muffled here, and in the rare instances you speak to one another, the grey crushes in and steals the words from your lips.
As the last delicate blush of sunset slips beyond the horizon, you are plunged in darkness - save for the dim light of the waxing moon overhead.
Your breath rises in faint plumes, stirring the mist in front of you. Small pools of collected water glitter like dark eyes scattered all around, and in their surfaces, you catch unsettling glimpses of your reflection; stretched, wavering, and wholly unnatural, as if your own spirit is somehow haunting you from the other side.
You move cautiously. The moors are eerily silent, but a heavy pressure persists as the fog grows ever deeper and more threatening.
Nevertheless, you press onward, drawn by a subtle hum and a faint shimmer that streaks through the air in quick intervals. It is weak, much weaker than previous expeditions of this nature, but you're still able to follow its pull through the dense mists as it leads you blindly across this unfamiliar landscape, this place you cannot see.
It is at the crest of a low hill where the mist suddenly thins and pulls back like a veil, revealing... a corpse, half-sunk in the peat. The stag's body was old, albeit strangely preserved; its withered frame lay twisted in a terrible heap, ribs jutting against taut skin like broken spears, gnarled in a way as if it had died convulsing.
From its sunken mouth and hollow eyes, a pale light glows...
... And this time, the Voice is silent.
What do you do?
As the last delicate blush of sunset slips beyond the horizon, you are plunged in darkness - save for the dim light of the waxing moon overhead.
Your breath rises in faint plumes, stirring the mist in front of you. Small pools of collected water glitter like dark eyes scattered all around, and in their surfaces, you catch unsettling glimpses of your reflection; stretched, wavering, and wholly unnatural, as if your own spirit is somehow haunting you from the other side.
You move cautiously. The moors are eerily silent, but a heavy pressure persists as the fog grows ever deeper and more threatening.
Nevertheless, you press onward, drawn by a subtle hum and a faint shimmer that streaks through the air in quick intervals. It is weak, much weaker than previous expeditions of this nature, but you're still able to follow its pull through the dense mists as it leads you blindly across this unfamiliar landscape, this place you cannot see.
It is at the crest of a low hill where the mist suddenly thins and pulls back like a veil, revealing... a corpse, half-sunk in the peat. The stag's body was old, albeit strangely preserved; its withered frame lay twisted in a terrible heap, ribs jutting against taut skin like broken spears, gnarled in a way as if it had died convulsing.
From its sunken mouth and hollow eyes, a pale light glows...
... And this time, the Voice is silent.
What do you do?