For the last cycle or so, they had been considering the strangely shaped Rhodonite in their grasp. And what they had done to acquire such a thing. Torn from a gembound. A prize from an enemy! Their last remnant... A reminder of our cruelty... Many divided opinions. Many ambiguous thoughts. They were not sure if they were disgusted with themselves or proud of their power. Perhaps a healthy measure of both.

A rippling through their mind brought on an idea. Perhaps they could offer another chance. Perhaps...

A surge of their life flooded outwards from the amber and traveled through the soil, around the trees, and into the crystal they had wrapped themselves around, buried deep underground. It briefly seemed to warm in their grasp and then went still.

They waited, but nothing else happened. Ah...well, they would see, then, what would come of this little experiment.

'He will awaken in two weeks' time fully changed, after dreaming of a feast of violent delights.'

Violence.

Violence.

VIOLENCE!!!!!!!

Captain burst from his stone in Draco, eyes wide and wild and glazed with an oily sheen. Violence sang through his newly-corrupted blood, and the phantom smell of smoke lingered in his nostrils. He charged straight out in chase of the violent delights that had been shown to him, and over the course of the day made his destructive way to Eridanus—and to remembering everything that had happened before.

It only served to augment his rage. He had been tricked, he realized, into eating not only a ROCK but a rock that BLEW HIM UP IN AGONY. It was HUMILIATING. All that pent up fury had nowhere to go, except out, and right now Captain didn't particularly care about who or what got in his way, although he didn't notice anyone in the immediate vicinity.

He thundered toward a thick tree trunk with his head lowered and smashed his horns right into it. The vibrations rang through his very bones. He wanted to rip at the earth with magic, but realized with a bellow of anger that he could not reach his element anymore. Saucer-sized hooves stomped at the ground, carving furrows through the soft earth and any fungal life that might grow unnoticed on it. "I'LL CLEAVE YE TO THE BRISKET!!!" he bellowed to no one in particular.

In the days since returning from Emuh's trial, the Consul had found a new spot for the amber. Different then its original location, not that they didn't trust Lichen, but it wanted a spot where nobody knew. What if she was compromised? What if someone looked into her memories without her consent? It was something they had the power to do, so surely others would as well.

It was near the edge of the Arborspire Sanctuary, the tree that it had sensed before that it was now able to look upon properly through the eyes of their familiar. Beautiful. Powerful. A good protector over their heart.

Deep into the ground they were buried by the rat, who promptly fell deeply asleep when the work was done. And now it was time to stretch out its growth once again and retake what had been lost.

The tendrils of its magic began to spread and the voices once again began to reappear as mycelia was spawned and tangled forward, focusing not on fruiting, but spreading. Beneath soil, into trees. It was easier then before, more practiced as they were. Quickly, within an hour or so, they had reached the size they had been after their first couple of days in the caves.

Currency is exchanged for goods and services. So, the cave dragon was looking for vegetables. Naturally, she assumed there would be vegetables in the most vegetated cave she could find. And! It was a special occasion.

Lichen had ventured into Scorpio alone and found a delightfully soft 'skirt' as Irimel had called it. And, she'd been assured it was absolutely pink. Lichen didn't care if neither of them could see what colour the skirt was; it had to be pink. It was the thought that counts, naturally.

But, goods like that cost coins, so here she was, hunting for vegetables instead of doing meaningful chores like keeping their nest clean.

The cave dragon snuffled low along the path she knew, the one that she'd used to visit The Chorus, but then abruptly turned to head in the opposite direction instead; it seemed quite underhanded to sell your friend's pieces for a skirt, even if it was for your very good friend and close roommate.

She hummed an idle tune to herself as her feelers unfurled, trying to get a feel for what was around her.]]>

Currency is exchanged for goods and services. So, the cave dragon was looking for vegetables. Naturally, she assumed there would be vegetables in the most vegetated cave she could find. And! It was a special occasion.

Lichen had ventured into Scorpio alone and found a delightfully soft 'skirt' as Irimel had called it. And, she'd been assured it was absolutely pink. Lichen didn't care if neither of them could see what colour the skirt was; it had to be pink. It was the thought that counts, naturally.

But, goods like that cost coins, so here she was, hunting for vegetables instead of doing meaningful chores like keeping their nest clean.

The cave dragon snuffled low along the path she knew, the one that she'd used to visit The Chorus, but then abruptly turned to head in the opposite direction instead; it seemed quite underhanded to sell your friend's pieces for a skirt, even if it was for your very good friend and close roommate.

She hummed an idle tune to herself as her feelers unfurled, trying to get a feel for what was around her.]]> https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12850 Mon, 20 Jul 2026 21:00:52 -0500 https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12850

Without the fungus, Eridanus felt bare. It was the same jungle they remembered from cycles and cycles and cycles ago, back when they hadn't found Mother. When they hadn't found safety, and a family that could never be separated again. It was visibly worse for wear after the bitter contest for its control, scorch marks everywhere and the remains of fallen trees and torn-up plants, but it was...

No. Familiar was too positive of a word for it. They might have thought of the room fondly back then, but looking back at those memories, all Yellow could think of was danger and not right. It had been missing something, and now it was missing it again. Without the curtains of fungus asserting Mother's influence here, without her many eyes that were always watching her children's backs, Yellow was always jumpy, as if something could be lurking around every corner to sneak up on them. Still, they didn't want to leave. It had been their home for so long already. They wanted to believe they could handle this again too, until proven otherwise.

The ferns far beneath the canopy rustled. Yellow glanced down—at first they couldn't quite tell what it was, the green fur blended in so well, but the mask and the antlers and then the movement of the large shape gave it away.

"Rift?" they blurted impulsively before they could have any silly second thoughts like, oh I don't know, he probably doesn't want to see you or didn't the Hive literally see him ripping up fungus with Valkhounds as one of the last things it saw before it lost control, what if he's hostile. Um. Too late now. They stared down wide-eyed, still clinging to the tree they were perched on.

Not that Tsvetok really cared all that much or anything, but it was fairly certain it wasn't meant to be wandering so far from Draco. It wasn't like Vargas had ever explicitly told it that it couldn't go for walkies, though. And soon enough, it stumbled across a room infested with familiar-looking, perfectly symmetrical fungus. It'd found something similar in Gemini, though it'd largely failed to do any significant damage to the stuff.

It hated the look of them. Sprawling out like little white parasites, somehow staying perfectly even and balanced. It was yucky. It was gross. It had to be wrecked and destroyed and set on glorious fire.

That said...

Vargas had implied there was much more than just fire. Timir could do noises, apparently. That little cat it'd killed could do water. What else could Tsvetok do?]]>

Not that Tsvetok really cared all that much or anything, but it was fairly certain it wasn't meant to be wandering so far from Draco. It wasn't like Vargas had ever explicitly told it that it couldn't go for walkies, though. And soon enough, it stumbled across a room infested with familiar-looking, perfectly symmetrical fungus. It'd found something similar in Gemini, though it'd largely failed to do any significant damage to the stuff.

It hated the look of them. Sprawling out like little white parasites, somehow staying perfectly even and balanced. It was yucky. It was gross. It had to be wrecked and destroyed and set on glorious fire.

That said...

Vargas had implied there was much more than just fire. Timir could do noises, apparently. That little cat it'd killed could do water. What else could Tsvetok do?]]> https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12827 Tue, 14 Jul 2026 17:34:51 -0500 https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12827 The state of Eridanus was very concerning lately. Constant ambushes by the forces of Chaos on Drones, random corrupted patches of plants and oily, malevolent fungi that Yellow kept running into during their foraging, and the fact that they could practically feel Order's hold on Eridanus weakening. Yellow missed the days when their days were carefree, peacefully picking fruit and tending to the nodes without rude interruption, but now a new urgency filled their actions. It was a race between Order and Chaos to keep Eridanus pure, pristine, and protected before the creeping corruption worked its way back in.
]]> The state of Eridanus was very concerning lately. Constant ambushes by the forces of Chaos on Drones, random corrupted patches of plants and oily, malevolent fungi that Yellow kept running into during their foraging, and the fact that they could practically feel Order's hold on Eridanus weakening. Yellow missed the days when their days were carefree, peacefully picking fruit and tending to the nodes without rude interruption, but now a new urgency filled their actions. It was a race between Order and Chaos to keep Eridanus pure, pristine, and protected before the creeping corruption worked its way back in.
]]> https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12826 Tue, 14 Jul 2026 16:56:01 -0500 https://origin.boreal-nights.space/showthread.php?tid=12826

Tectus figured that the amount of time that the fungal infection had lasted now was properly reflecting quite poorly on her. She had, after all, been PERSONALLY tasked by the Hand to discard of it. And while they had certainly done some excellent work in that regard, it was still around and she had not been able to chase the last of it away.

She had been awake for a couple of years now and yet it still lingered. The first task she had been given was STILL not complete. So, frustrated, she strode into Eridanus herself and promised - "I will finish this NOW."

She didn't get far in when she reached where it was already starting to cling to barks and leaves. The Overseer wasted no time, reaching up with sharp claws and swiping away at some of the infected plants that dripped with mold. After a few moments, the leaves had been shed, but that left her with a problem. How to actually dispose of them?

She paused and stood over them, frustrated. "How do I get rid of you," she grumbled under her breath as she nudged a white leaf around.

The Chorus had been buzzing with knowledge. They had successfully spread across much of Eridanus's surface, not yet daring, however, to touch the infected parts. They would, soon, and they would be rid of it, but for now...they'd had an idea. A bit of intel they'd caught in their endless listening.

Transcendence...? A way to get stronger? To go beyond what a normal gembound was capable of? That did sound like them...that sounded like their kind of challenge, the kind of thing they needed.

The only problem was its location. They know generally where Polaris was, but they hadn't yet been able to leave the confines of Eridanus. They could not simply have The Consul take the test in their stead - they had tried to cast magic through it, but the farther he got from the them, the more difficult it became. They had tried many different avenues, come up with every idea they could, but nothing was fruitful. Could they have the transcendence master come here? No, he didn't leave his cave. Could they grow in that direction until they reached the cave lip? It would take many cycles to grow that far, and they would be thin and weak and easily severed. They could not remotely be there either...no...there was one option.

They had to move. They had to be dug up, their heart, and the network culled.

Not all of it, Abdicus figured they could dig up the protective core as well as some of the surrounding voices and bundle them together to be taken out of the cave, but it would still be a great loss. They would be starting over. Almost.

Ah...all this work they had done, for nothing! No, some of the voices chimed. We have grown strong! We have learned! And when we grow again, we will grow faster, better, more efficient! We will be better!

Abdicus considered this and then relented. They would do this. Yes...

But then the problem of, well, getting them to Polaris. A sizable portion of earth would have to be moved. That was an issue. They had the Consul, at least, that seemed to be willing to do whatever it was that they asked. And so they plotted, and constructed a plan - inspired by the nests they had observed birds building in the tres, they needed leaves, large leaves, and woven sticks and threads. Strip branches and stems of their fibers and create a bundle to wrap around their earth. They guided The Consul into this, finding the largest leaves they could reach.

It was hard work. It was tedious work. But they did not tire. They did not need to rest. And neither would the Consul rest until this job was complete. With sharp, precise teeth, the rat carefully stripped fibers from thin, springy woods and wove them as birds did, reinforced by large, flat leaves that curved around. It took hours. A fully day, in fact, of nonstop work until its paws and teeth ached. But at last, the nest was constructed and he began to fill it with earth.

They had grown so much. They were so large now. They stretched over a large swathe of Eridanus, crawling into the Arborspire (although they avoided the opalized streaks and the garden out of respect) and stretching their roots out into many trees. Perhaps a hundred now, perhaps more. It was getting difficult to pay attention to every little bit of the forest they had claimed. It was getting harder to bring it all into one mind.

But they tried. They learned. And now that they were stronger, they had a new task. One that they had craved to be able to do for quite a while now. But first...they had to search.

They knew what they were looking for - they'd seen their ilk here and there, and heard their odd cries and voices. It would be sufficient. Senses poured out of them, into the other mycelia in the cave, feeling for what they wanted, jumping from mushroom to spore to mold and back. Eventually, they found one, carrying the spores of some passive mushroom upon its fur. They felt the raggedness, the odd sound of its rasping breaths that said this is the one you're looking for.

Two things about Drone Zero-Zero-Four Manager, AKA Jinyi:

One, he did NOT give up. Ever.

Two, despite the first thing, believe it or not, he did learn from his mistakes. It's called a growth mindset, people. So he was in Eridanus again, to reinforce Order's influence again, but this time with backup. Particularly loud, boisterous, and confident backup that no one could miss. If subtlety hadn't worked last time, then--

Well.

Jinyi tilted his head up at Ace with a ghastly grey-and-white grin, though he really didn't need it to see the other Drone. He wanted to give Ace the full benefit of seeing the beautiful countenance of family, after all. "Hope you're ready, Skyreaver. Let's give those Valkhounds a nasty surprise the next time they step foot here." With rather unnecessary (but fun) melodrama, he lifted a foot and stepped down decisively. Ordered magic radiated from its impact, enforcing a dictator's will on the area. The ground crackled as it turned glassy and cold, while the mosses and fern fronds shivered and became clear, fragile, and crystalline. No longer will it be so easy to undo the threads of fungus with their heretic magic, he thought with satisfaction. Their own efforts would be bolstered, while fire and dripping corruption would falter in the face of Order.

Also, it made for a really cool visual effect. Match that, Ace, Jinyi thought with teasing humor. Goading the other Drone into an aura-farming contest, Order edition.

What better source of color was there than berries, and what better source of berries was there than Eridanus? Conveniently, the jungle-cave was also infested by Order, which made it an excellent choice of location for Jinyi's purposes.

After his unfortunate encounter here last time, Jinyi was careful to stay hidden. Sight and hearing alert for any possible intrusion, he entered the jungle in search of berries. Red, yellow, white: Order's favored colors. He shaped strands of organic polymer into small jars with snap-on lids in his hands. Seeing as how he didn't currently have pockets to tuck them in, his clothing having been cut off after getting horrifically stained and ruined recently, he fashioned a loop on the jars' lids and a hanger-like contraption that he strung them onto, to be able to carry them all at once.

It had slipped from its chrysalis in silence, save for the chattered plans it had for substrate. Like most Valkhounds, true ones, that is, Virosa cared little for explanations, words and specifics. It knew innately what must be done, practiced it for cycles before.

It'd begun work cultivating its own little patch of rot closer to home, a project restricted by the space it must share with others unlike it. Virosa didn't mind the crowd. Some places needed a diversity of growth to survive, yes, natural order is a close companion to entropy. It should be welcomed.

When it managed to spread through every corner and crevice of the caves, it would promise to maintain an uncorrupted patch here and there. It was not a despot.

In Eridanus it would be absent of such considerations. Free, unrestricted cultivation, weeds to remove, crops to plant in their place. But preparations were in order - the long journey had left it dangerously parched. It sprinted to the twin pools at the sight of water, slamming its head as it swallowed water in noisy, drowning gulps. Oil gurgled upwards to the water's surface in bubbles, threatening to pollute it further.

CALAMITY

so all the things can grow

In every sense of the word- literal and metaphorical- it was drifting.

Ever since it had lost Verdant it'd been lonely in a way it hadn't even been able to conceptualize before. It's curiosity and drive had fueled it- often, Calamity had wandered only so that Verdant could delight in alien sights, in the universe outside it's Star. Verdant's thoughts had hummed alongside it's own, a beautiful song. Now only its own thoughts echoed in the quiet.

It'd fallen into a cycle. Wake. Wander. Attempt to regrow it's garden. Fail. Tire. Sleep. Each time waking period shortened as its sleep lengthened. It occasionally wondered if it'd get to the point of never waking but, fundamentally, it couldn't bring itself to care about an event it wouldn't even be aware of.

This time, upon waking, it found Eridanus strange and unrecognizable. What had once been beautiful green was choked with putrid strands of white, stinking of decay. It did not recognize what it was, but it felt a instinctive unease all the same. It's plates shifted, cautiously guarding it's core as it drifted through this eerie place.

Suddenly, it came upon a clearing completely devoid of the choking rot. Its caution fell away slowly as it became enamored with the overflowing plantlife in this space. Tendrils of light reached out curiously, brushing against unfamiliar flora. It felt all at once awe and joy and longing. It had always wanted this kind of garden, but it struggled to maintain such a lush diversity of life, and it'd all inevitably die when it next slept.

It's brush up against a tangle of vines growing on the trunk of the opalized tree, willing them to attach to its barren shell as magicka pulsed out of its core. The spell took, a couple tendrils of vines rooting into one of it's plates. It hummed with delight and satisfaction.