ORIGIN

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SPUN SILK

It was not often that a long-sleeping creature awoke in the Palace. Indeed, Gembound never hatched here--and for good reason--which meant that this gentle split of Oilstone was something ancient. Something... other.

The room that it was in had long been closed off. The Voidlight didn't reach here; the place was shuttered, dark and dusty, the old scents of mold and stale air filling it. As the stone cracked, fluid spilled out onto old fabrics that--though once shining and new--had long since rotted away. Barely scraps remained, moth-eaten and stiff, so that the liquid even touching them disintegrated them to nothing.

White feathers emerged, and gleaming scales touched with streaks of rainbow color. Four arms--long and spindly, almost spider-like--pushed from the chrysalis, and a serpentine head slid forth, a snake's eyes opening and blinking. Jaws opened, a forked tongue flicking, and-

"OH NOOOOOOOOO!"

The creature's voice cracked, both with disuse and with horror. All of a sudden they were up and moving--their long body sweeping upright, their limbs reaching for the double doors to fling them open, rummaging for the old oil lamp they knew was there. Someone--Eggbert?--had kept it full, at least, and as they flicked the switch the room flooded with its warmer glow.

They turned, eyes widening as they surveyed their room with horror.

The racks of finery were long gone, only tattered threads remaining. Gemstone beads were cracked or missing. Sequins--shining scales plucked from ancient beasts--were simply gone. Bottles of dye had long dried out, leaving only colored crust in dusty bottles.

They raised hands to their head, horrified, and then raced for the Palace entrance. Where was the Hand-? Surely she could help, or... perhaps someone else could? Was there anyone in this place who could help them get their shop back together? Oh, they had to get back to work!

At the very least, their helpers had survived--smaller chrysalises were now cracking about the room, distressed little Red Mice and Lesser birds springing forth and scurrying to join the Tailor, who was now calling out at the Palace gates.

"Hello? Is anyone there?! Is there anyone here who can help me!?" Their voice--melodically musical--trilled across the grounds, filling Cepheus with their distress.

A Mysterious Tailor has emerged!

Gembound who offer their aid will be given tasks to help them restore their boutique and workspace. Those who help are likely to be offered some reward!

Please note that Order characters may be identified and harmed or killed; Mother knows best and would warn them to keep away.

Peach Scone did not know what to expect when it had first clawed its way from its chrysalis. It didn't know much of anything, other than that their name was Peach Scone and they had to have the shinies. So many shinies. All the shinies.

This cave was beautiful, and the more they wandered the more sure they were there was shines to be found. But when they heard the distress call and floated curiously to investigate, they were sure that this creature held the secrets to the Biggest Shinies Of All.

"I can!"

Nymph had been joyfully practicing flight when they had heard the cry for help. Immediately, the small bird had changed direction towards the distraught being- The entity looked like nothing Nymph had seen before, but that was not saying much, considering Nymph hadn't seen much at all so far in their short life.

"Am here! Am Nymph!" The cockatiel chirped at the stranger. "Nymph wants to help you!" They proudly proclaimed.

A brief pause, and then realization. They didn't know what this being needed help with. Of course, they would want to help no matter what, but... "...How can Nymph help?"

Multiple yards of gleaming metallic scales wound in the direction of the call of distress which rang out across the palace grounds, but not a hint of actual curiosity guided their movements. The feline head which lead their procession, a yawn momentarily breaking wide its jaws, held no signs of charitable tendencies either. At least, not until it came, at last, swooping around a corner and into full view of the one responsible for the disruption of a pleasant slumber. Then the still depths of Miriam's eyes lit with unknown fire, and the blank mask of her face donned a well-practiced smile, the white tips of fangs peeking just barely past dark lips. What would have been a more measured examination of the stranger in her midst she altered into a casual sweep of their figure, gaze bobbing up and down to take in the serpentine shape.

If she found herself unimpressed, it didn't show. As to the vermin rushing about—diminutive beasts beneath her attention—there might have been the slightest glimpse of disgust in the subtle twist of her features before a wave of false awe swallowed the emotion.

"Oh my," she gushed, tone almost reverent, "You're so beautiful. Of course, I should've known—you have the loveliest voice I've ever had the blessing to hear. I only wish I could have one like that."

To sell the flattery thickly laid on, eyes averted as if the sight beheld was too dazzling to linger upon. Posture meek, she fidgeted with her claws.

"But oh!" Her chin snapped up to resume conversation. "How stupid of me. You wanted help, yes? Although I haven't the faintest idea with what, I can try! Would be so rude not to, especially if it's important." A brief frown. "Is it important? Why," declared the Tatzelwurm, sounding almost scandalized by her own question, "it must be!"

Although deep within this chatterbox persona, Miriam pulled away from the role for an instant to acknowledge the others nearby, a mild glance directed to either side of her. Stones were made note of, as was her compulsion. Any interest in the obsidian was discarded, its presence a blot on an otherwise intriguing design. But the peridot nestled amongst feathers, this caused her smile to inch wider.

Quite a lovely specimen, she must admit. A shame the choice of setting limited its size.

Leathery hidebound wings whipped into the air at the Tailor's call. Fulgur, who had spent the past while avoiding the palace, wandering the outskirts of Cepheus, only now dared to approach the stone halls.

His flock chirped, chittering around him as he approached the growing congregation of Gembounds. He hoverss there, wings pumping, and offers, "We would be happy to help."

He pauses a moment. "Wait, how would we help?"

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

strong language

The shouting took him by surprise.

He'd been painting--a colorful piece, one in a series of abstract representations of various caves. His room, its use granted him by Aethril, was a mess of dye in pots and stained cloth, not to mention the paintings in states ranging from unstarted to half-finished to set gloriously as final examples of his self-appointed task. Orion was a series of crystalline blotches on dusty violet-black, specked with 'stars'; Eridanus a beautifully green gleaming with specks of floral color. Cetus--which he'd been working on, thank you very much--was a series of grim and misty smears and upright, dark, jagged lines like tree trunks. He'd been partway through a careful stroke, taloned foot holding brush to canvas, when the loud OH NOOOOOOOOO! resonated through the halls.

"What the fuck!" he cried, quietly surprised--and then blinked, staring at the dark line he'd yanked straight across the canvas in his surprise. "WHAT THE FUCK!"

He winced, and threw down the brush, turning to clamber out to the hall, seething. He'd see who'd interrupted his work. If only because now, well, he was curious. (And a little mad. Maybe a lot mad. ...He'd see who it was before he decided.)

Imp came careening out behind the mysterious tailor moments after their emergence, blinking, his fins and fur all fluffed out. The stranger was begging for help, now, so his better nature (evolved only recently, really) directed him toward asking questions instead of throwing an artist's entitled tantrum. "Well. You made me ruin my painting. But I! Imp! The Palace Artist! ...Can help you!"

He paused, squinting, as he realized there were others already gathering. Ah. Well, instead of feeling foolish, he could puff out--make himself maybe look important--possibly turn side to side to give them a full and glorious view.

So he did that, then cleared his throat. "I am VERY IMPORTANT." This was mostly directed at the small crowd; Imp then turned to the tailor. "...So what is it that you need?"

Eden has never seen this many creatures before.

Her first instinct, of course, upon hearing such sad and scared shouting from the palace across the river, is to run to it. That looks like it's a lot of other creatures' instincts, too, and the small trot she was at as she crossed the bridge over the river quickly slows to a complete stop as she turns the corner and realizes how many others have come to help.

Is she here to help? She considers this briefly from the edge of the group, sitting down at a safe distance to make sure nobody else trips on her. They're all so different from each other. They're all so pretty. But she is still little, and the general rule with anything that moves in Cepheus and is larger than her is to stay at a good looking-distance from them.

Also, that one creature with glowing eyes has just said very loudly how very important he is, so he probably knows what he's doing a little better than her, and she should probably stay in the back and listen to him talk, but anyway—

—she thinks she's here to help.

Mostly because the big pretty snake-person at the front has a beautiful voice, but also a very sad one, and she thinks it would be better if they were less sad.

He was still aimless. He still had no idea where Prince Ruvaen was.

The desperate cry for help brought some relief in the regards that he now had a task to do and someone to help. Not that he was greatful about someone's problems- and he immediately felt guilty for even implying that to himself.

He didn't recognize a single gembound present, except for one- the little rose-eye'd pup he'd met not that long ago. Everyone else was a perfect stranger, including the rainbow bird-serpent who had made the call in the first place.

He hung towards the back of the crowd- within earshot, still willing to help, but... looking elsewhere. Looking for someone.

Oh-! The nest, at least, was not empty. But--these creatures...

...They were not all what the tailor remembered.

The first was oddly adorable, in a way that edged off into genuinely eerie, as though someone had drawn a beautiful creature and it had come directly to life--its eye too large, its snout too round... The second was a tiny creature, and this one they recognized, at least in general shape. A bird! Like their little allies, which were even now catching up, gathering around them, bringing twists of hair or fiber they'd found along the way... Then there was Miriam, Valkhound-looking enough but with smooth flattery that fit perfectly within Cepheus. That one clearly belonged here, they thought, and set her aside as 'clearly a Palace resident,' in their mind. They murmured a soft thank you to Miriam, blinking and bowing. How kind this one was-! How well-spoken! Fulgur, on the other hand, meshed very much with the sort of creature they remembered: beautifully monstrous, glowing and strong, though small. As did Imp, though he was likewise a tad small. 'The palace artist?' Hm, that was new, but clearly he was important. The small, white pup, though--and what was that red gemstone?--and the strange, furred humanoid--they were nothing like anything the tailor had ever seen.

Ahh, but--they were all here to help. "I am so glad to see that so many are here, these days... and so ready to help!" they exclaimed, all four hands pressing together. Their expression was earnest, hopeful, as they looked between all the faces before them. "My name is Mimosa." (Named, they would not add aloud, by a Valkhand who would not be mentioned, after a favored drink.) "I am the Tailor of the Palace, and have long been asleep, and my supplies--oh! It's terrible," they confessed, two hands now raising to their forehead.

A sigh, and here they beckoned to Nymph, offering a hand (out of habit) upon which the little bird could perch. Other birds--strange little Lessers with too many eyes, mostly--were landing here and there among their feathered train, shoulders, and one atop a golden horn.

"My works were once the finest in all the nests," they lamented, though whether this was really true was anybody's guess. "I created bespoke finery for all the Valkhands and visitors, for the Palace rooms and Masters... Could you help me to replenish my supplies? I will create, for you, if you do. Anything you each like! A custom cape for you, or for you a hat--a waistcoat or a dress... anything at all. Not armor, mind you," and their face scrunched up, because that sort of rough thing was more a blacksmith's domain. "But beauty. I need gemstones, first and foremost... little ones, of any color, to serve as beads. And I must have dye--pigments of all varieties! Anything that you could find would be so very helpful." They were earnest, their voice pleading, distressed, yet kind. "Decorations... scales and feathers, fur... and cloth! Spun cotton... wool... Those are the most important of all." They looked to Imp. "A canvas, before the paint! Please--if anyone can help me... I will reward you well, I promise!"

The Tailor, Mimosa, has tasked Gembounds with retrieving items that could be of use for creating clothing.

They will accept Wool, Cotton/Fiber Cloth, Gemstones, Dyes and Pigments, Feathers, Scales, Fur, and similar. In return, once enough items have been returned to restock their shop, they will reward each participant with a custom-made clothing piece of their choice.

Gembound may exit this thread, and utilize other threads in any caves to roll to search for suitable materials. They may also depart to retrieve existing items they already own. They may return to this thread to deliver these items (include a link to their retrieval threads)!

New Gembound may hear about this task by word-of-mouth and join at any time.

@Peach Scone @Nymph @Miriam @Fulgur @Imp @Eden @Cyneweard

The habitually offered hand was easily accepted as a perch by the little cockatiel, who was listening wholeheartedly to the Tailor's sad tale. In Nymph's mind, there was no doubt that this was the truth. After all, why would a being that so clearly wanted help lie? There could be no reason, in the bird's compassionate yet naïve thought process.

What a Valkhand was, or a great number of other mentions things were, was unknown. But Nymph knew what gems and feathers were for sure. In fact, Nymph even had an idea on where they might find at least one of those things. They perked up eagerly.

"Nymph will help!" They chirped at Mimosa, attempting to reassure the fretting being before they took off. "Nymph promises to be back soon!"

And with that, the little bird was flying off. Their flight was a little wobbly, not the most practiced, but they were doing their best, determined to help as they were.

[Exit Nymph]

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Game Master Dark

Peach Scone

Nymph

Miriam

Fulgur

Imp

Eden

Cyneweard

Game Master Dark

Nymph