Pennyroyal, Verbena and Jaxxon
- 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 6/1.
Eip hale tolk yia - drese ere azjulk bywas, usil ali lalel shinfir sepanan lak dikazjal,a voice mumbles irritably within the chamber of your mind.
You get the impression it thinks you're slow.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, you plunge into the depths, and -
- everything seems fine.
Time passes quickly as you move forward at a steady trot, your eyes distracted by what appear to be faint Runic markings on the walls either side of you. You can't begin to fathom what they say, but a gentle glow emanates from the scrawled etchings as you push on ahead, occupied only by your own thoughts and the idle chatter of whatever company you may have brought.
In one day's time - it didn't even feel that long - you emerge from the other side unscathed.
Your first impression is that it's terribly, terribly cold. The wind is biting and the air sharp as your fur bristles reflexively, and you realize you've journeyed all the way from the woodlands to the snow-covered alpines of Shiverwood.
The blue shimmer is just visible close by, twinkling enticingly in the darkness of early morning, so early not even the first blush of dawn has yet managed to crest the horizon; save for the wind against your face, the world is eerily quiet as if holding its breath.
Your paws crunch against snow that appears oddly lavender to your eyes when your stomach suddenly lurches, and the urge to vomit nearly threatens to overtake you. Bile creeps back down your throat as you suppress the sensation - what was that about...?
Resik, resik; yia fil wake kina,the whisper returns, tickling like spider-legs against the walls of your mind. Nevertheless you continue against your better judgment, and at last through the dim haze you see the blue shimmer stop in front of a broad, circular stone slab at least two meters across buried in the snow - perfectly flat and precisely rounded at the edges, too precise to look natural in this or any other environment. It's broken down the middle, split as if by lightning or some great force, the two halves resting upon smaller, thinner, evenly-spaced stones protruding from beneath it -
You tread closer as you descry what appear to be decorative carvings down each leg of the - table.
Perhaps a past life knows what a table is, perhaps you've never seen one before, but whatever the case you know immediately what it is you're looking at.
The carvings pulse a dull blue glow as you approach.
There's a point toward the broken center of the table that illuminates even brighter than the rest where a circular, Runic carving split jaggedly down the middle catches your eye, glimmering desperately as if reaching for its other half suspended only inches away.
Something in your paws tingles as you realize it craves your contact.
Vina - vina - lind ut ali life!