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and on we go, on we go - Printable Version +- ORIGIN (https://origin.boreal-nights.space) +-- Forum: IC Archives (https://origin.boreal-nights.space/forumdisplay.php?fid=50) +--- Forum: Year 5 Archives (https://origin.boreal-nights.space/forumdisplay.php?fid=55) +--- Thread: and on we go, on we go (/showthread.php?tid=7236) |
and on we go, on we go - Auré - Nov 14 2019 Monstrous things lurked in the dark, then - and they began to, once again. The Bone King - king of his own people and a guardian of his family - knew that preparations must be made. His confidence in his fellow Bonebound was insurmountable, but it had been, yet again, some time since he called them as one. Proper unity would be difficult to achieve without constant meetings, checkups, preparations. But, Aure didn't find himself as organized and fluent with the agenda as, say, Pride. Time often flew and slowed to a crawl with the happenings in the caves. The least he could do, he supposed, was find a way to prepare his Bonebound and aid them in bonding. So, wherever he went, a persistent carpet followed. The fruiting bodies were rather diminutive, but potent enough to slightly inhibit any that happened to step in them. They emerged from the circuit in a five-foot radius around Aure, coaxed along by slightly-spread wings and the depth of some of the strange footprints. RE: and on we go, on we go - Auré - Nov 14 2019 The Bone King took to the wing for a moment, seemingly abandoning his project to take a bird-bath. He returned doused in coppery, iron-rich water and flinging it all across the carpet. His flight path wound side to side, bobbing and weaving in keeping with the pattern of stalactite bases above. Satisfied with his work and hovering at one end of the vast spread, Aure emanated a fierce arc of pure electricity. It jumped through each of his feathers before finally rocketing towards the carpet. The bolt shot through the path of water, burning it into place among the mushrooms. RE: and on we go, on we go - Auré - Nov 22 2019 Quills rustling, spores scattering off of his feathers, the wyvern took to the air again. Each wingbeat cast down another spray of fungi, settling among the dust and bone-pieces ground into the earth by many ancient, alien creatures. Crimson eyes stared at the floor, willing the 'seeds' to magically fruit. And fruit they did, into a somewhat dense forest of five foot tall stalks and wide, light-stealing, and frilly caps. Silvery tendrils hung off of each end of their gills, swaying lightly in the breeze. Well-hiding, but perhaps not enough... |