<![CDATA[ORIGIN - Tunnel M]]> https://origin.boreal-nights.space/ Sat, 24 Oct 2026 17:39:12 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[if there's a prize for rotten judgement]]> https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12869 Thu, 30 Jul 2026 04:55:46 -0500 https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12869


Audland had come back in Polaris with new scars and an all around standard but reconfigured amount of zest for life. He'd checked on the two forming oilstone chrysalises. Healthy. Growing fast. Probably bound to hatch in a few weeks. Audland didn't know how this was supposed to work. Beyond curiosity he didn't personally care for what was in there. So he'd left.

He knew the way back to Ursa. It was right there. But Audland, in traditional slacker fashion, had seen an opportunity to do literally anything else, and had taken it without a second thought. Oh nooo, he's looost... Oh nooo, he doesn't know the way back, haha... Well, he didn't exactly have a boss, so there was no one to fool but himself.

Fooling himself was a favorite past time it would seem. As Audland traipsed down the tunnel connecting two rooms that were not Polaris or Ursa, he fooled himself again and again into thinking about stuff that doesn't matter. How he feels. What that means. What is a 'war' and where will it take... See? Stupid things that don't matter. He didn't want to think anymore. When the thoughts get too loud, he tries to summon forth a fire that he can hold against his own arm. He burns the thoughts away, or tries to. The flame is dull, and the heat is non-existent (as usual), but the pain is nice. The sting of it makes him inhale, and heaven knows Audland needs more clear air.

While walking, Audland notices something. Well, he smells it first, but he sees it very shortly after. It's hard to miss. Five pillars of glittering gemstone, large pillars with maximal surface area. What in tarnation is all that for?

Audland trundles over to inspect the pillars. He tries to look close, to perhaps understand what kind of gemstone makes them. Maybe there is some sort of pattern from which he can derive a meaning. Or maybe it's just another dumb and stupid thing in these caves that doesn't matter and never will. If it is, it will be a triumph. Nothing in this cave system can be more pointless than his previous topic of musing.

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Audland had come back in Polaris with new scars and an all around standard but reconfigured amount of zest for life. He'd checked on the two forming oilstone chrysalises. Healthy. Growing fast. Probably bound to hatch in a few weeks. Audland didn't know how this was supposed to work. Beyond curiosity he didn't personally care for what was in there. So he'd left.

He knew the way back to Ursa. It was right there. But Audland, in traditional slacker fashion, had seen an opportunity to do literally anything else, and had taken it without a second thought. Oh nooo, he's looost... Oh nooo, he doesn't know the way back, haha... Well, he didn't exactly have a boss, so there was no one to fool but himself.

Fooling himself was a favorite past time it would seem. As Audland traipsed down the tunnel connecting two rooms that were not Polaris or Ursa, he fooled himself again and again into thinking about stuff that doesn't matter. How he feels. What that means. What is a 'war' and where will it take... See? Stupid things that don't matter. He didn't want to think anymore. When the thoughts get too loud, he tries to summon forth a fire that he can hold against his own arm. He burns the thoughts away, or tries to. The flame is dull, and the heat is non-existent (as usual), but the pain is nice. The sting of it makes him inhale, and heaven knows Audland needs more clear air.

While walking, Audland notices something. Well, he smells it first, but he sees it very shortly after. It's hard to miss. Five pillars of glittering gemstone, large pillars with maximal surface area. What in tarnation is all that for?

Audland trundles over to inspect the pillars. He tries to look close, to perhaps understand what kind of gemstone makes them. Maybe there is some sort of pattern from which he can derive a meaning. Or maybe it's just another dumb and stupid thing in these caves that doesn't matter and never will. If it is, it will be a triumph. Nothing in this cave system can be more pointless than his previous topic of musing.

]]> <![CDATA[Born to Slide the Slippery Slope]]> https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12538 Sun, 10 Aug 2025 05:00:07 -0500 https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12538 Horribleness is a hardy and ubiquitous weed. Its needs are little but as common to the caves as the rock lining its many hollow spaces: darkness with plenty of time to develop into a significantly worsened form. Shade so readily available, palaces and crumbling ruins alike provide the proper environment for such an infestation to flourish. And none can forget the less noteworthy places also capable of hosting these insidious sprouts. Numerous dank spots lie within rooms and along the routes between them, awaiting the opportunity to birth and nourish another horror planted in their soil.

Clinging to the wet sloping wall that descended from Pisces just now was a perfect example of these facts, a silvery nodule that could've been mistaken for simple condensation if not for its opaque surface and size, small as a child's fist and larger than the average water droplet. Quite the unremarkable thing, other than its shine, but utterly normal for a chrysalis. After all, in order for any Gembound to claim their stone the prettiest, someone had to lose out to random chance and be stuck with either the ugly or mundane. For a long cycle it had resided here, a tiny growth below any passerby's notice.

Who knew if that'd change once a tapping began from inside its, up until present, unbroken shell.

Regardless of whether the sound met anyone's ears, the efforts of the stirring consciousness trapped in a prison of hematite remained persistent. Though the taps had started out slow, each second's passage hastened them until their assault upon stone attained a fevered rhythm. Progress was gradual, the repeated salvo showing no effect upon the hard exterior at first, but then slivers broke off and fell away from the glimmering surface. Another minute more, and those advanced to shards. A hole, no bigger than a pin would poke, formed. What insight it offered to the chrysalis' dweller was little, nothing more than shifting gray fuzz glimpsed beyond its edges.

The next action proved far more informative, another determined peck proving far more forceful than necessary to ensure entrance into the greater world now that an opening had been created. Chunks of stone shell flew every which direction as its entirety burst apart from this final thrust. Amongst the chaos, a puffball slid into view, though it was quite possible it would soon exit from sight. The ground as slippery as the walls, the Gembound's tumbling rapidly gained momentum, and a flurry of frantic twitters announced a harrowing journey down the tunnel's steep decline.
]]> Horribleness is a hardy and ubiquitous weed. Its needs are little but as common to the caves as the rock lining its many hollow spaces: darkness with plenty of time to develop into a significantly worsened form. Shade so readily available, palaces and crumbling ruins alike provide the proper environment for such an infestation to flourish. And none can forget the less noteworthy places also capable of hosting these insidious sprouts. Numerous dank spots lie within rooms and along the routes between them, awaiting the opportunity to birth and nourish another horror planted in their soil.

Clinging to the wet sloping wall that descended from Pisces just now was a perfect example of these facts, a silvery nodule that could've been mistaken for simple condensation if not for its opaque surface and size, small as a child's fist and larger than the average water droplet. Quite the unremarkable thing, other than its shine, but utterly normal for a chrysalis. After all, in order for any Gembound to claim their stone the prettiest, someone had to lose out to random chance and be stuck with either the ugly or mundane. For a long cycle it had resided here, a tiny growth below any passerby's notice.

Who knew if that'd change once a tapping began from inside its, up until present, unbroken shell.

Regardless of whether the sound met anyone's ears, the efforts of the stirring consciousness trapped in a prison of hematite remained persistent. Though the taps had started out slow, each second's passage hastened them until their assault upon stone attained a fevered rhythm. Progress was gradual, the repeated salvo showing no effect upon the hard exterior at first, but then slivers broke off and fell away from the glimmering surface. Another minute more, and those advanced to shards. A hole, no bigger than a pin would poke, formed. What insight it offered to the chrysalis' dweller was little, nothing more than shifting gray fuzz glimpsed beyond its edges.

The next action proved far more informative, another determined peck proving far more forceful than necessary to ensure entrance into the greater world now that an opening had been created. Chunks of stone shell flew every which direction as its entirety burst apart from this final thrust. Amongst the chaos, a puffball slid into view, though it was quite possible it would soon exit from sight. The ground as slippery as the walls, the Gembound's tumbling rapidly gained momentum, and a flurry of frantic twitters announced a harrowing journey down the tunnel's steep decline.
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