#sanct event: expansion

[sunpiercer]

Idleness is unbecoming of warriors, the clarion call of a fundamental shift in the ecosystem ( birds scattering from the canopy, flora shuddering—a chill condensing to sweat on the back of the neck ) rushing his feet to rush headfirst into the foray. Though only a few days since he first arrived to this strange forest in complete confusion & alarm, the duty to answer aid wherever he can is indiscriminate, leading him towards the source of the tremors.

This is where he stands now: head craned skywards to the towering mountain, then back down to an earthen maw spewing ominous fog. With minimal effort, his vision enhances & attempts to pierce through the brume. Past the lights, grazing the statues, & just as he believes himself capable of perceiving the other end, his observations hit their limit, stopped by what feels like a subtle pressure behind his eyes. He dares not chance it at the moment. Lips pull taut, shoulders descending with a disappointed exhale.

His head turns quickly when contemplation ( resolved to march into the unknown ) is cut short by the rustling of grass, grip on his bow loosening when met with another. Arjuna nods politely, cutting straight to business, making a vague gesture towards the cave.

❝Greetings. I suppose your guess is as good as mine regarding this peculiar turn of events?❞

@infernalire

[eversanctum]

With the end of November comes a recognizable chill in the air; the yearly announcement of the shift to December. The month rolls over, the wind creeps ever-closer towards winter…

… and, from the mountain, comes a rumbling that shakes the forest.

It’s coupled with a terrifying sound; a boom like thunder, echoing out over the treetops. Anybody still awake would have been filled with the sensation that something is off, drawn to the mountain – and anybody peacefully slumbering, as is logical to be at midnight, would no doubt be roused from even the deepest of sleeps.

It’s Tia who responds properly first – or at least, she tries to. The first few who arrive at the mountain would later report seeing her there pacing, muttering that something was wrong, this wasn’t right... but Tia doesn’t stay there for long. Within a few hours, she’s withdrawn to her shop, barely moving from a seat behind the counter, all wrapped up in a blanket and complaining of a terrible headache that inhibits her ability to think.

*

What had the sound been? What had happened at the mountain?

The mess of rocks, once keeping the mouth of the cave plugged up, had simply… loosened, somehow. Even the strongest of attempts had previously been unable to move those rocks, yet here they lay now, some tumbling as far as several hundred metres from the cave. The path is – open. The way through the mountain is…

… well, clear would be an exaggeration.

Because through the mountain there seems to only be fog – fog, and the unknown.

There are shapes swirling in the shadows, Saved One. Do you step through the cave, even knowing this? Do you take a step into that terrifying gloom, hoping to find a light on the other side?

-

And thus Eversanctum’s first event, EXPANSION, begins!

SO WHAT’S GOING ON?

The way through the mountain has cleared… kind of. While the rocks that were once blocking the cave through the mountain are no longer there, the circumstances overall don’t… really seem much better than they used to be.

That is to say, the tunnel is clear! But through the tunnel is… a whole lot of nothing.

WHAT’S OUT THERE?

Fog, primarily. But fog that works very similar to how the Deep Woods do – there are spectres looming in there, mirror images of everyone from friends to family to enemies. These spectres will do what they have in their power to try to inhibit, if not entirely stop, your progress. Straying too far into the fog off the beaten path will send you right back to the cave mouth, on the Eversanctum side of the mountain.

Ah, but that’s right –

PROGRESS?

From the depths of the fog come lights.

They’re spread out, and not very bright, but they’re there. Following one of them will lead you to some sort of small stone monument, each in the shape of a different animal – anything from deer, to foxes, to owls. It’s their eyes that are glowing, and the spectres seem to be drawn to these statues in particular.

The fog is less dense around any statues that have been cracked.

It seems there’s only one thing to do.

Break the statues.

DO I HAVE TO?

No! If your muse doesn’t want to risk being attacked by the spectres, they’re free to do what they can to help otherwise. Any muses who would want to halt the progress of others are free to as well, because the no-combat spell doesn’t seem to apply outside of the forest. That’s right: whatever powers you have unlocked are fully available here.

AND, ONE MORE THING…

There have been rumours of an arctic fox being spotted darting among the fog, pale as the mists themselves. You may have even seen it yourself, if you stepped a little too far into the fog away from where the last of the statues are, rescuing you before your memories haze over and you find yourself in front of the mountain. It’s been spotted fending spectres off, too, in case they became too much for one person to handle.

Maybe the fox is a spectre itself…?

-

IN SUMMARY:

The way through the mountain has opened up because of something overnight.

Tia has a terrible headache and will not be seen outside her store, despite how terribly she wants to help with what’s going on at the mountain.

Going through the tunnel to the other side will lead to you finding yourself in a fog so dense you can barely see; but there are lights in the distance, and you can at least steady your eyes onto those.

These lights belong to the eyes of strange statues, monuments, that have to be destroyed in order to lessen the fog.

The no-combat spell is not in effect outside of the forest.

You don’t have to participate in the event by breaking statues! Your muse can simply do what they can to help out those who are more in the thick of things, or indeed they can even try to hold others back!

Straying too far into the fog away from the statues will end up with you back in front of the cave in Eversanctum’s forest. Perhaps a little fox led you there, but you can’t seem to ever get a solid look at this fox, if it even really exists...

-

EXPANSION WILL RUN UNTIL DECEMBER 15TH, 11:59:59 PM EASTERN.

Participation may be obtained either through threading with someone (or someones) else, or through drabbles.

[falsimile]

Certainly, he shouldn't be expecting a child to be of much help; though not completely unkind, he cannot profess having the greatest experience in handling them—or so Shakespeare has written.

❝Say, you there. You wouldn't have happened to come across a fox scampering about, have you? About yea big? White fur?❞ He gestures the rough dimensions of the rumored fox spotted to have been wandering about these parts, seemingly arriving with the mists pooling around their feet. Therein exists a certain suspicion in the back of his mind, pausing from ( half-heartedly ) aiding in the effort to clear the cave of its statues to consider the end result, the circumstances which resolve this curious shift. ❝Of course, if you haven't, then that's perfectly fine as well!❞

Oberon flashes a bright smile, getting up from the tree stump he decided to make his makeshift throne.

@cutwarmth

[allitalynews-blog]

Di Maio, the head hopeful Snow White and the M5s turning into a gathering

There is no applicant in the eighth rose of yesterday from the blog of Grillo, who has the smallest shot of causing Luigi Di Maio's ride to the royal celebration of the principal M5S head competitor. In any case, four days after the announcement, did somebody expect an alternate race? Did anybody truly wager on Roberto Fico's triumph in the event that he offer for himself? All things considered, the test between Di Maio and the "seven dwarves", as they have just been renamed, confirms the presence of a Snow White competitor who has for some time been hitched to the ruler foundation by opposing the harmed apples of the conventional, however most importantly sancts the complete change of the Five Star Movement into one that is influenced to energetically assault: a gathering. A gathering that may not yet be in everything and for everything as the others, yet that simply like the others "breeds" those among the individuals who trust the best , more suited to the parts they need to cover. A gathering that sends a Diia for a year to speak to him in political and institutional workplaces, and not just in light of the fact that he is the person who has been in the part of VP of the House since 2013, managing controls and sessions. A gathering not insusceptible to the sickness of correntism, but rather still unfit to keep up. A gathering that has a structure that is not all that extraordinary, as primitive as others, notwithstanding the innovation of the media and PC stages: from one viewpoint, there is an expansive crowd of blog individuals called to talk and go up against them with a modest bunch of individuals who at last choose; then again, an extremely delicate administrative system, which is not the subject of persistent plan of action, and is undermined by the absence of straightforwardness in the connections between the different boxes (affiliations, blog, Casaleggio Associati). The much-attractive disintermediation uncovered its face: there is positively a base that proposes and makes its voice heard through the web (the genuine progressive instinct of the Five Stars), however in the decisions that issue the straight line amongst Genoa and Milan has been a questionable one. It has occurred in each key stride at each troublesome time: the steady mishaps of the Virginia Rages junta in the capital, the strains between the different souls, the Cassimatis case and the Sicilian case. The grains did not resolve with a counsel between the individuals but rather with the choice (or, once in a while) with the intervention of Beppe Grillo and Davide Casaleggio. A structure, the flame broil, which even had an even deft middle of the road body as the executive, however supplanted it with the developing energy of Di Maio and his devoted ones, by Alfonso Bonafede to Danilo Toninelli. Be that as it may, dependably with the last word endowed to the runs. As in a genuine, however primitive gathering, the "dolphin" recognized by Gianroberto Casaleggio as the most reasonable to wind up plainly the primary head applicant of the Five Stars was raised to this reason, in deafness, in the most recent year strikingly. This is exhibited by the goes to Harvard, the shut entryway experiences with the anteroom, the presentation in Cernobbio, the system woven calmly with the forces that tally, including the Vatican. It's legislative issues, excellence. "The craft of the conceivable, the study of its," said Otto von Bismark. A craftsmanship and a science that Di Maio, with his axes (in conclusion, on the need harsh) and his certain practicality, has turned out to be ready to deal with. Yet, his assignment as a head applicant, at that point, implies that the Five Stars Standardization was at that point written in their DNA. What's more, who today gripes of the double-crossing of the first Spirit of the Movement or did not comprehend or have his impact in comic drama. Sitting tight for his swing to come.

[enchcntment]

It is irritating and impossible to express how slighted these specters were becoming.

Irritatingly so to these specters to show themselves, pale imitations of loved ones and not-so; in attempts to -- with no success-- to stop her descent upon the statues. They had slighted her already and in petty recompense, broke several statues ; smashing them into the trunks of trees or allowing the strands to snap the heads from the immoveable shoulders. Pink eyes turned to watch the tall , faceless form fall and fade from her sight with it’s destruction. “Unfortunate and distasteful, really.” 

There are no faces on these odd things, no. Perhaps, if they did have one, she would have been more keen to be afraid of them. Though, if her siblings, lover and the like were around: Aphrodite would still act them same with no hesitation nor consequence. 

Standing before the cave mouth, only following the fog to end this ghastly, dreary cast that down trotted her mood with it. A snort leaves her with the voice now, and the face coming into the muted light to be placed with it. 

“I, personally, think a cave mouth is the best backdrop for such first meetings. We might even envy Hades and Persephone with it, as well!” A chuckle, hand raised to curl through soft moving strands of hair. “Unless you’re offering to give me something better to do, a cave will only make seem more radiant and you would compliment it in tow, don’t you think?” 

It's so pathetic he can't even bring himself to laugh.

What manner of phantom dares to believe itself worth of taking upon her face, he asks himself, smiling with an eerie serenity devoid of happiness and anger. The body is feminine, the features certainly regal and likened that of a queen, her wings a luminescent orange likened that to a monarch butterfly; surely, this must be the fabled Titania of myth, of stories where she is Oberon's partner in all things celebratory and violent—surely he would recognize such a face, no?

And yet, he sees no face beneath that flower crown. Mimicry can only go so far in deterring a bird from the hunt when it has yet to learn what a monarch butterfly even looks like. He snaps his fingers and a torrent of darkness cascades from the ceiling, evaporating as soon as it touches the ground, leaving not so much as a trace of something standing just a few feet in front of him just a few seconds ago. His smile imperceptivity widens, and as he turns on his heel to return to the entrance, he yelps in surprise when met with another individual, obnoxiously clearing his throat while scrambling to gather himself.

❝Well, I suppose anywhere would be an infinitely superior backdrop for a first meeting, wouldn't you say? And surely one as radiant as yourself has better things to do than linger about in such a dreary cave.❞

@enchcntment

[eversanctum]

The last of the statues crumble with a roar as great as the one that moved the rocks from the mountain. The fog lingers, for a time; from it, the spectres looming in the mists let loose one great pained cry.

And then, in the blink of an eye, it's over.

As if it hadn't been there mere seconds earlier, the fog has vanished. The spectres have been taken out with it; instead of the haunting, swirling greys, there's now a clear path down. A sign comes into view the further along the path you go – "Mount Estval", it points in one direction.

"Mistbrook", it points in the other.

You let your eyes follow the arrow and, surely enough, in the distance you can see the rooftops of various houses and other buildings. There's – there's a town. There's a town, and a clear path down to it. Further still you can see the reflection of the moon shimmering on the water; the ocean?

The spectres are gone. The fox you swear you caught glimpses of is nowhere to be seen anymore, either. Were you one of the ones remaining currently in the forest, you would find Tia slowly making her way out of her shop for the first time in forever, her headache gone, her eyes turned toward the mountain.

You want to go explore. You want to see this Mistbrook with your own eyes.

So you take a step forward.

-

Thank you for participating in Eversanctum's first event, Expansion!

Those of you who participated in the event may now claim a bonus, as listed on the rankings page. If you didn't get around to replying to any starters made for you during the event period, you still can reply and safely claim a reward – just so long as the starter was made between December 1st and 15th.

As explained above, Mistbrook is now available for your muses to explore!

Mistbrook introduces Outsiders to Eversanctum. Outsiders are explained a little further on Mistbrook's page proper, but may also be read about here.

Muses cannot currently move to Mistbrook... currently.

A few graphical changes and bigger edits to Eversanctum to reflect these introductions will be made at a later date due to unforeseen issues arising with Mod Fawn's internet (as in it has none at all, and very limited data). We apologize for any inconvenience!

[falsimile]

❝Quite the annoying little bastards, aren't you?❞

He snaps his fingers and a spear manifests in his hand, with which he makes blindingly quick work of a shade resembling a middle-aged man dressed in Elizabethan era clothing. ❝Not that I mind the cathartic relief.❞ And as the figure fades to memory, so too does the spear, disintegrating to blackened mud and evaporating as if it never existed to begin with. The silence is thick, so he works quickly. He kneels in front of an owl statue, examining it curiously before placing his hand on its head ( curious craftsmanship, mourning it ), and in a matter of seconds obliterating it with a small blast of darkness coalesced underneath his palm.

Flying shards of rock disperse the fog where they land, enough that he sees a wandering figure slowly emerge from obscurity. Oberon squints, patting away dust his clothes as he rises to his feet.

❝Oh? Are you perhaps lost?❞ That being said, even one so experienced with reconnaissance as Oberon will find themselves struggling to navigate such dense fog. Ah well, he'll just wing it and hope for the best.

@felescano

[falsimile]

Butterflies dance around him as he assumes a thinking position, tapping his chin in half-hearted motions with his knuckles. The groan of the forest shudders still in his bones beckoning him to heed its request, but one dive into the fog was clear enough for him, an uneasy smile steadily growing when he recalls nearly being split in twain. He, the furthest thing from a bloodthirsty brute, refuses to be caught face-to-face with the faceless ire of a queen, much less one who specifically demands his head as recompense. Absolutely not! You can't even pay him to step foot in there again!

❝Well, seems I'm in a bit of a pinch!❞ He chuckles airily, musing that it'd be best to leave demolition to the more physically-oriented; however, something nags in the back of his head that he should attempt the bare minimum, full expectation of some manner of reward for a beginner's quest. The footsteps approaching do not go unnoticed by him, and he makes the vaguest gesture in acknowledgment, ❝ah, are you perhaps brave enough to venture into this cave? I'm afraid that I'm absolutely useless in a fight, but if it's support you're looking for I'm your guy! Oh, but only from afar; there's quite the angry woman in there who appeared because of me~❞

@innerbeast

[sunpiercer]

He's broken a number of statues already, accustomed to gods granting him all manner of strange trials in acquisition of worth. Countless times he's had to face & come to terms with the demons festering in his heartwounds ( long is the bloodtrail behind him, of brother & foe alike ), countless more where he almost lost to them. Chief among the specters in the fog is the one person he wishes never to face again in this existence and the one before.

❝Again you stand in my way...❞ he mutters to himself, eyes narrowed in tried attempt to see past the denseness, then sighting an unfamiliar figure approaching. ❝—!!❞ In a singular, fluid motion, he nocks Gandiva and aims it at the silhouette, eyes wide & trained. While his beloved bow might not possess its original strength blessed by prominent flames, it is not as if he required the divine to earn a score of carcasses.

That is, until he relaxes his pose, arrow held idly between his fingers as one would a pencil. He senses no immediate danger and admittedly feels bashful that confronting familiar specters elevated his awareness to paranoid degrees. With a bow of his head, he clears his throat to speak.

❝Ahem... Apologies, for pointing my weapon towards you. It seems spending far too long here has affected me more than it should. Perhaps it would behoove the both of us to return to the entrance.❞

@enchcntment

[falsimile]

It's so pathetic he can't even bring himself to laugh.

What manner of phantom dares to believe itself worth of taking upon her face, he asks himself, smiling with an eerie serenity devoid of happiness and anger. The body is feminine, the features certainly regal and likened that of a queen, her wings a luminescent orange likened that to a monarch butterfly; surely, this must be the fabled Titania of myth, of stories where she is Oberon's partner in all things celebratory and violent—surely he would recognize such a face, no?

And yet, he sees no face beneath that flower crown. Mimicry can only go so far in deterring a bird from the hunt when it has yet to learn what a monarch butterfly even looks like. He snaps his fingers and a torrent of darkness cascades from the ceiling, evaporating as soon as it touches the ground, leaving not so much as a trace of something standing just a few feet in front of him just a few seconds ago. His smile imperceptivity widens, and as he turns on his heel to return to the entrance, he yelps in surprise when met with another individual, obnoxiously clearing his throat while scrambling to gather himself.

❝Well, I suppose anywhere would be an infinitely superior backdrop for a first meeting, wouldn't you say? And surely one as radiant as yourself has better things to do than linger about in such a dreary cave.❞

@enchcntment