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Just a gnarly corpse

Unnaturally cold with oppressive fog     Quiet Moors     Evening

BWP 18+ [BWP: Artifact Discovery] The Orb

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#1
 
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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.


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?


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Witchdoctor
Elysium
Statistics
Species
Wolf

Sex
Female (She/Her)

Age
3 years (June 2022)

Height
Very Tall

Weight
Average

Build
Average

Eyes
Amethyst

Fur
Snow,Chocolates

Scent
Fresh-turned dirt&clay, herbs, berries

Oddities
Usually painted in berry-colored clay


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Chaotic Neutral
#2
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If Fiora wandered here with others, she seemed blissfully unaware of them. It might've been days since she hauled the rune from its damp, dark hiding place, and it might've been months, years even. Things hadn't been, well... right, since then. She wasn't even sure if Mir was around or if she'd lost track of her younger sister, but it mattered little in the healers muddled mind; she just slunk on ever forward with glossy, unfocused eyes. Whether it was spite or passion that kept Fi on her path, she had not faltered.

She couldn't.

So she walked. And walked. And walked. And WALKED.

Her poor, beautiful, silky coat was dull and unkept, and flakes of color alluded to what undoubtedly used to be a cute design of some sort along her sides and face. Now, she was merely a speckled mess.... a painter out of supplies, an herbalist without medicine to give, a cryptid lost to the shadows. Her paws were raw, her stomach was always snarling, but she continued.

So she walked.

She floated through the mist, undeterred, and kept following the glimmer in the air that shouldn't be. It was strange, and new, and it called to her in a way she didn't need to understand -- she just needed to do. And when she came upon the twisted, foul body of an ungulate, she knew then what she needed to do as well. Without hesitation, Fiora approached and placed one paw on the shoulder of the stag and began ripping into the space between those jutting ribs.

She would tear it open until the light bared itself to her, yes, and she'd feast like she'd never feasted before.

'I did it, Mum, I'm helping!'

Speaking: Russian - English

Halloween 2025
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Druid of the Rise
Camhanaich (Toisiche)
Statistics
Species
Arctic Wolf

Sex
Female (She/her)

Age
4 (06/09/2021)

Height
Very Short

Weight
Very Light

Build
Petite

Eyes
Gray

Fur
White

Scent
Earthy and heavily infused by whatever herb she was harvesting/working with at the time.

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Kind ♡ Compassionate ♡ Optimistic ♡ Naive ♡ Gentle ♡ Empathetic
#3
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Things continued to unfold in ways Kirain hadn’t anticipated. Since retrieving the rune with Aelia, they had followed a faint trail that led them to this quiet, unsettling place. The night pressed down around them, the meager glow of the moon sending a shiver along her spine. She disliked it, every inch of it, yet still she pressed onward, determined to find whatever it was she had been bid to seek.

Others were with her, though none seemed particularly inclined to conversation. Perhaps silence was fitting for the haunting territory they now walked. Even so, there was a sliver of comfort in not being alone.

When they came upon the body, she froze, a frown tugging at her maw. The poor creature must have suffered terribly before its death; she prayed the spirits had guided its soul to peace, and that its body would soon return to the earth. Yet the light spilling from its mouth and eyes was… wrong. Unsettling. What could possibly cause such a thing?

As she lingered, torn between fear and curiosity, a figure strode forward and began to tear at the corpse. Their movements were jerky, unnatural. Concern prickled sharp in her gut. Slowly, cautiously, Kirain edged closer, torn between watching the figure and staring at that eerie glow.

Hello? Are you alright, darling? she called gently, her voice unsteady. I… I don’t think you should be doing that. It doesn’t seem safe. We have no idea what that light is.

Her words seemed to vanish into the night, unheard by the she-wolf who continued her grim work. Shifting position, Kirain crept nearer to the corpse’s mouth, peering into the glow. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find, or if she even wanted to know, but it was far too late to turn back now.
Lestan is allowed to join any of Kirain's threads, no matter the marking.
Halloween 2025
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Priestess of Osiris
Satriya (Hemet)
Statistics
Species
Arabian wolf

Sex
Female (She/Her)

Age
3 Years (8.13.22)

Height
Tall

Weight
Light

Build
Slender

Eyes
orange & blue

Fur
smoldering embers, ash and soot

Scent
Cactus flowers

Oddities
"beauty mark" at the corner of her right eye & tuft ears

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Independent, Confident, Resolute, Virtuous
#4
 
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skill: vagabond

Once more the wanderer feels the pull to journey again and it takes her to a place far, far from what she knew. It was not the first time. The first being within the mountains, she was thankful for open, rolling land this time. At least that she was familiar with. Yet the heavy mist, weighing on her, like the darkness all around and it was cold... Far too cold for the likes of her, who typically when the sun fell in the desert, her body would be pressed to the warmth of golden sands. This time however, she was blessed with the presence of someone familiar at her side.

Jamila was cast a soft look. Her mouth opens, yet the words stolen from her each time she dare speak. This time was different. The glow in the sky which drew their path was faint. The air only feeling heavier. Dark pools scattered all around, revealing faces of herself, a darker self which caused a quiver in her bones. Something just didn't feel right but it was as though by no control, she pushed on.

Eventually, the haze displacing, revealing. A corpse half sunken into the earth, sitting upright in a twisted and sickening macabre head. Mouth and eyes glowing dimly from within. There were no voices. Not an ounce of encouragement. Only the haunting sunken corpse staring back at them.

Fear had become Phoenix Rising. Hesitance was all she needed in order to keep from having to get her paws dirty in this endeavor. Another wolf from their group began tearing into the side of the corpse. A second peering down its glowing mouth. The pheonix stayed back, watching, waiting as she allowed the others to do the work. A task not quite fitting for the priestress and so wouldn't if she hadn't a need to.
Halloween 2025
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#5
 
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Artifact Discovered : 「 The Orb 」 



There is a sickening, crunching sound that fills the space around you as you tear away the flesh which cloaks the stag. Rotting flesh slides down your throat, but it does not taste foul, and somehow it has not turned; there is a softness to it that feels wrong, but it is just as succulent and delicious as a kill freshly made. You eagerly swallow chunk after chunk, and with every tear, the light from within its caged ribs grows stronger and stronger until -

You hear a low hum.

As you stand in place, flesh dangling from your jaws, you see something inside the deer's carcass shift - you hear a crack,, and several ribs break from some unseen force - and suddenly, a pale sphere raises itself out of the gore and remains suspended in the air for several, breathless moments.

It is like the light of a god. You are all bathed in luminous gold, its brilliance cutting away the fog surrounding you, and a soft sound stirs at the back of your mind but you cannot discern the words.

Then the orb falls to the ground and shatters - but something leaves it, a shimmer that soars into the air and quickly dissipates.

You will dream again tonight.

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