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 Posted: Mon Sep 30, 2013 11:32 pm
 Tir na nOg, Land of the Young. This is home. It was a paradise, hidden beyond the edges of the map, an Otherworld. Here, there is no sickness or death, only eternal youth and beauty. Every now and then, a sailor or adventurer would find their way onto the island's shores; the only way to find the paradise, aside from an invitation from one of it's faerie residents.
You are the prince of this paradise, forever young. There was no such thing as unhappiness or sadness, and no one wanted for anything in this land of eternal bliss. Your supernatural life was all you could ever want.
...until the day you Fell.
You'd heard of things like death and sickness, but they were so very far away from your island and life that the very concept of being sick or ceasing to exist was not something you were able to comprehend. Yet, this night, you find yourself in a foreign land during a time when the dead are honored and festivals are held.
What led to your Falling? Was it an intrepid adventurer or sailor that had washed on your shore? Was it an accident? How do you react to these festivities?
Rules
Only one entry per person
Write as much or as little as you want, I'm looking for quality in the character
You may edit your entry as much as you want until the deadline. Once the contest is over, give me some time to read over the entries before declaring the winner.
Remember, this is a slow grow pet. He will stay a colt until you are ready for him to grow to the next stage, but not before a colt normally would (that would be an accelerated growth and the complete opposite).
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Posted: Mon Sep 30, 2013 11:42 pm
This Contest Starts on: October 1st: 6pm Pacific (7pm Mountain, 8pm Central, 9pm Eastern)
This Contest Ends on: October 19th: 6pm Pacific (7pm Mountain, 8pm Central, 9pm Eastern)
Entry Form
[b]Name:[/b] (Name of the star)
[b]Username:[/b] (Your username)
[b]Song?:[/b] (This is NOT a required field and does not guarantee a leg up in the contest. This can be either the star's theme song in order to further understand his core character, or it could reflect his feelings and emotions in this entry. Or it could simply be what you listened to while writing, I'm a curious fellow. This is mostly a benefit to you writers, as I myself find it easier to write once I find the right song to write to.)
[b]Entry:[/b]
Entrants
Elfstar89
Noonday Guile
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Posted: Sat Oct 12, 2013 12:46 pm
Name: Taliesin Username: elfstar89 Song?: Tir Gwastraff and Cwynfan Pryderi. Especially Cwynfan Pryderi and the tail end of Tir Gwastraff (which is basically a very long lead in to Cwynfan Pryderi); Blwyddyn i Heno for the end bit. Not a perfect fit, lyric-wise, for the ending, but still has nice sounds. Entry:Taliesin picked himself up slowly and painfully from the bracken-filled thicket in which he'd landed. He winced in pain, and shook himself carefully, sorting out his long, graceful legs. Tossing his head, he noted that his wings appeared to be in good condition, he still had his torc and his coronet, his tunic felt fine (though that would take a good look into a body of calm water to confirm), so those matters were a load off his mind. Bright turquoise eyes took in his surroundings, which, while they looked much like the woods on Tir na nOg, were clearly no part of Tir na nOg that he'd ever seen. Curse that human druid. Taliesin should NEVER have taken him in. "I'd like to visit the mortal world someday. But that's not going to happen anytime soon. I shouldn't leave these lands and my herd."
"Oh? Is that so? But time moves so differently here~! If you go now, you could be back before anyone missed you, and still have lots of time to play in the mortal realms." The druid seemed almost flippant towards the serious issue of the young colt leaving Tir na nOg to visit the mortal realms.
"Does time flow THAT differently there?" Taliesin asked curiously.
"Oh, yes. One night in Tir na nOg could be years in the mortal realm," the druid replied casually, munching on the silver apples that grew in profusion here.
"And nobody would miss me if I spent a few days in the mortal realms.... All right. Can you help me get there? I don't yet know the ways to other worlds."
"Of course, my young prince. Now, if you jump through the twinned oaks at the center of the Great Faerie Ring *juuussst* riiight..."Well, now that he was here, there should be a way back, right? Easy. After all, since he'd paid attention to the sort of magic that existed around the portal, it'd be easy enough to find another and go back. Taliesin whipped around his shining white head, silky golden mare shimmering in the fading sunlight. Not that way. Not that way, either. No, no, no! He snorted, reared, pawing at the air, and then set off to running, crashing carelessly through the underbrush. Where? Where? There had to be a portal somewhere! Some way back home! Right? An hour he searched, stretching his senses to the limits. But he could find nothing. No trace of the portal magic that had brought him to the mortal realms. To a land where death, illness, old age, and sadness lived and bred like monsters in the shadows of mortal life. Shaking his head as fear gripped at his heart, Taliesin tore off in a random direction, trying to flee his fears and anxieties and sudden grief. When he finally stopped, panting and shivering, he heard something. Was it...music? Yes! Yes, it was! Music, music like the sort they always played and sang and danced to in Tir na nOg at Samhain. Taking a big gulp of air, he lifted his head and trotted closer. Peering from the shadows, he saw a painfully familiar sight. Stars, like him, dancing and singing, laughing and making music in the brilliant light of countless lanterns. What was this festival? Taliesin peered around. A fairy ring of oaks, edged in concentric rings of large stones. At certain trees and stones, what looked like little altars set up, altars in someone's memory. Too numerous to be gods. The dead? The costuming certainly suggested it, as did the songs being sung. This was...a festival for the dead? Just like he'd always heard the mortals celebrated Samhain! Before he knew it, he joined in the dancing and laughing and singing. At once, familiar and strange, this little festival, night, and wood were so like home that he was able to forget his fast-growing homesickness and anxieties. But after tonight, Taliesin swore to himself, he'd find a way home, or die trying. And he sincerely hoped getting home wouldn't require dying or getting sick.
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Posted: Mon Oct 14, 2013 3:44 pm
Name: Cyric
Username:Noonday Guile
Song?: Walking in the Air - Nightwish
Entry: "I don't believe you." The princeling glared at the charming stranger, bristling with suspicion.
"Well, that just shows what you know." The creamy-white stallion threw his head back arrogantly, smirking down at the indignant child. "Just because you haven't seen something doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Why, just look at you." He circled around Cyric, and his chartreuse eyes combed over him in a way that made the prince shiver. "A few days ago, I'd have scoffed at the idea of a island paradise ruled by the likes of you, but clearly I'd have been mistaken."
His smile was infinitely charming, but Cyric stamped a hoof and stood his ground. "But- But how come I've never seen this- this other world, huh?" He grinned eagerly, confident in his logic, and began circling the stranger much in the same way, head held high. "You'd think if it existed, we'd have noticed by now, right? Or- Or wouldn't they have found us? But I've never seen or heard of anything that might be from a whole different world!" Let's see this know-it-all top that!
Suddenly they were face-to-face. Cyric could feel the stallion's warm breath on his face, the penetration of his serious eyes, and his heart beating double-time in his ears.
"You see me, don't you?"
Cyric could only stammer. He had no comeback for that. His wings fluttered anxiously and he tore his gaze away, trotting away from the stranger with the intent of never looking back.
"You could come back with me if you want."
"... I could?"
---
"Ophion!"
Cyric circled about in a panic, throat raw, delicate ivory fur matted with brambles and mud and heavens-knew-what-else. He had never been so terrified in his young life. What a fool he was to trust that charming stranger! He'd spoke of great mountains, rushing rivers, and caves into the very bowels of the earth; there had been nothing warning Cyric about the wicked forest. Trees here were black and brown, twisted high and leafless, and grabbed incessantly at his delicate fur; nothing like the peaceful, white woods of his homeland. The sky was dark, overcast with ominous clouds, with no stars sparkling to light the path below his hooves, and Cyric tripped and fell more times than he could count. The child wept bitterly, cold and alone. How could he have been such a fool?
Still, now that he was here, there was nothing to do but press on. He circled about for what felt like hours until, purely by chance, he happened up a thin dirt path. Cyric fell to his knees and wept at the sight - finally, civilization! Surely someone in town would help him get back to his family, for now that he was here, the prince wanted nothing but to return to his beautiful, peaceful, safe kingdom. His hopes soared as he reached the edge of the woods, where strands of music fluttered about the air and light surrounded a collection of tents in a wide glade. 'A party!' There was little Cyric loved more than a good party.
The closer he got, however, the more he realized that this was not the kind of party to which he was accustomed. For one, everyone looked like they'd stepped out of a fantasy story, or fallen in a pile of paint. Pumpkins had strange faces carved into them, some grinning, some leering, and strange white things were decorating every other tent; long white things arranged into shapes that eerily resembled a living star. Cyric shuddered and tried to ignore them. Sound was everywhere, making it impossible to think and drowning out his timid voice. He fluttered delicately through the crowds, staring and getting jostled and generally feeling extremely out of place. Everyone seemed happy, but no one would tell him why.
It was then that it hit Cyric: this was a different world than his, and he was utterly alone in it.
That simple thought unlocked the floodgates of despair, and the princeling slumped down right in the middle of the festivities and bawled. It was mortifying, but he couldn't stop himself, not even when a mare with golden hair stopped and asked if he needed help. 'Of course I need help!' he wanted to shriek, 'I don't belong here, I need to get home!' But of course, his anguish stoppered up his throat, and he could only flee, tears streaming down his face. He ran through the crowds with no direction, no caution, with the desperate wish for safety and familiarity adding speed to his hooves. Angry calls followed him, but he fled from those as well. He wanted to run until this mysterious and terrifying place vanished, until his hooves became wings that carried him back across the turquoise tropical seas to his beautiful home, back before that fateful moment where he met-
"Hey, there you are, kid!"
"Ophion!" Cyric was so relieved to see a familiar face that he barreled right into the stallion, burying his face in his creamy fur and sobbing the last of his tears out onto his chest. It was embarrassing, but the older male didn't seem to care. To the contrary, he smiled and nuzzled Cyric's blonde hair. The prince shuddered and looked up at his guardian, still very frazzled but relieved to have a responsible adult nearby to handle the situation. "Where did you go, it feels like I've been looking for hours, and it's so scary here, an- and you just left me, and-"
"Hey there, I did not. I was looking for you, too." Ophion gave him a chiding look, which made Cyric feel quite the fool, and gestured towards the pack on his back. "C'mon, I've got everything we need, and now I've found you. Would you like to see my home, little prince?" His smile was mocking and inviting all at once, and Cyric found himself following. 'Better the devil you know than the one you don't.' He had faith that Ophion would keep him safe, anyway.
As the sounds of festivities were replaced with the sighing of the grass, Cyric looked over his shoulder at the gala. "What were they celebrating over there?" he asked Ophion.
The older male scoffed and shrugged. "Who knows."
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Posted: Sat Oct 19, 2013 1:22 pm
Name: Tairngire
Username: Geyser Eelborn
Song?: Playlist of tracks from the Portal 2 soundtrack, oddly enough. Especially “The Future Starts With You” and “Triple Laser Phase.” Melancholy, spooky, haunting, painting an image of a broken-down, decaying ruin…and being the only living soul within it.
Entry:
It wasn’t on purpose! It had just sort of…happened. That Tairngire had Fallen.
Kinda. It had all been a sort of rush, but it had felt like falling, like he’d suddenly lost the ability to fly and fallen down. Which was stupid! He wasn’t stupid, he wouldn’t forget how to fly! But he had…
Now he was walking around, and for some reason, things didn’t feel right. He was in a forest, all dark and sort of…it put him on edge. In a lot of different ways. He didn’t know how to describe it, but the air itself had a quality about it that was sort of, it made him shiver, like his bones had turned into cool, clear water. Cool, now, that was it, right? It felt…cool. But even more so. Like, the most extreme sort of cool that had ever existed. The breeze was cool, too. Not even really a breeze, more like…well, a breeze but more so. It made him feel small, and light, and he hated that. And it was dark here. Not that dark was bad—dark shouldn’t be bad, just another quality of light. But here, here it was threatening. And the trees didn’t look like trees at all. For one thing, they didn’t have any leaves, and those few leaves they had were brown or orange, and they crinkled and cracked. They were brittle and dry, and leaves shouldn’t be brittle and dry.
Tairngire remembered meeting a traveler once who’d washed up on the shore. He’d crawled up the beach—the he’d helped him!—and he’d mentioned lots of things. To be honest, the little prince hadn’t paid much attention to all of it. Some of it he’d been quite excited about—snow! That sounded fun! And at the time, the sound of brightly-colored leaves had sounded interesting, but he’d expected them to radiate warmth, or to at least still be attached to the trees. This, this he hadn’t expected: the thick carpet on the ground of dry leaves slithering, sliding over each other like a nest of serpents. And he hadn’t expected the way the branches and the twigs reached up at the sky and raked them with their claws.
Most of all, though, he hadn’t expected the heavy feeling in his limbs, the way that every sound, every crackle and snap made him jump and look around. He didn’t want to keep moving. He couldn’t, sometimes, he had to force himself to move. But there was something just wrong about this place, about the clouded feeling, the way everything—every branch, every root, every shrub of bramble and yew—hid something that wasn’t there. Every time he saw those things, he instantly knew there was something there, and he didn’t want to see it. But he forced himself every time, only to see…there was nothing there. He couldn’t even smell it. All he could smell was the smell of the trees, of the leaves, and everything was distorted, the very scent seeming to be blackened and shriveled, yet at the same time powerful. Corruption, that was a word he’d heard somewhere. He wasn’t sure where he’d heard it, only that he had. He’d always wondered what it meant, but now, now he knew what it was.
Something else he suddenly understood, something that the washed-up traveler had mentioned once: nightmare. Tairngire had been confused at the time—a dream that was bad? That was all corrupted and made you unhappy? Dreams didn’t do that. But now, now he knew, suddenly, what that meant. What that was. The hidden shadows he couldn’t see, the people he couldn’t smell, the voices he couldn’t hear…
Was that what the traveler had called fear?
Then he heard a sound, very sudden, very quick, of snapping, cracking, breaking, a sound that was there, was real! He started, turning towards the shadow in the trees, eyes wide and nostrils flared. There was…something…there! He cowered, legs bending, hoping to make himself as small a target for whatever was there as possible, wings fluttering quickly, anxiously in the, yes, fear, whatever it was that he was feeling. Whatever the thing in the trees was, it had bright orange eyes and a long, heavy thing on its face. Bedraggled hair that hung over its neck and a serpentine tail, thick and clotted at the end. It was watching him, glaring at him, stalking him, moving out from under the branches and in between the roots, making straight at him with a heaviness of purpose, propelled by heavy muscles, its colors seeming to shift and move as he looked at it. With a squeal of terror, he tried to back away only to back up against a tree, falling over the root and onto his rump.
The terror of the shadows moved out into the withered shred of moonlight, revealing itself to be…an arcturus mare. An arcturus mare that was now staring at him, her head tilted to one side, letting locks of curly mane flop lazily back over the other side of her neck. “Hello, little one,” she said, and her voice didn’t sound too rough. “Are you lost?”
Tairngire blinked. “Lost?” he repeated. Lost…that was something he’d heard about a few times. Nothing he’d ever thought could ever apply to him, but…
She nodded. “I haven’t seen you here before.” She lifted her nose to the breeze—wind?—and sniffed at it. “I don’t smell anyone else—where are your parents?”
“Never mind that,” he said. “What are you doing wandering around a scary old forest late at night, and why were you scaring me?!”
She looked taken aback by that, and more than a little confused. She’d probably never met a prince of Tir na nOg before, so that was understandable. “I’m heading to the Samhainn Festival, and it just so happens that we’re celebrating it at night. As for scaring you…I didn’t mean to.” She stepped closer and lowered her head down to his level. “Are you alright?”
He backed away from her and got back up onto his hooves. “I’m fine,” he said. He flapped his wings a few times to be sure they were alright and looked up at her. “A festival? At night? Really?”
She smiled and nodded. “Of course! What better time of day to chase out the ghouls and goblins and honor the fallen than at night?” She gave him some space and walked along the path a few steps, her tufted tail held out behind her to invite Tairngire to follow.
Which he did, and quite enthusiastically. “A festival for the Fallen? You mean like me?” He fell in step at her side, dividing his looking from the ground to look for roots and up at her face to look her in the eye. Suddenly, the fear was gone, and her body radiated warmth and shielded him from the cold. Yes, there were lots of reasons to follow her.
The mare shook her head at his question, though. “The fallen as in the dead.”
Yet another confusing word. He squinted up at her. “What’s that, then?”
“What’s what?”
“The dead. What’s the dead? Are they goblins or something? Are there goblins in this forest?”
The mare faltered for one step, then her body seemed to sag as if in disappointment. It was just for a moment, then she took a deep breath and brought herself up upright again, her movement picking up again with a decided determination to it. “The dead…oh, where to begin…?”
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Posted: Sun Oct 20, 2013 9:43 am
I sincerely thank Elfy, Noonie, and Gey for entering my RP contest. The three of you submitted wonderful entries, I had an incredibly hard time deciding the winner. Now the only thing I don't like is that only one of you can win. sweatdrop
But there must be a winner. Congratulations Geyser Eelborn, you are the winner! I thoroughly enjoyed your response, even if you aren't confident in it.
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