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On The Hunt - IC

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When the seal gets broken

And the forces are free

Time won't be safe

For the bird in the tree

When the seal gets broken

From the skies to the sea

When the seal gets broken

And the forces are free


-Arghon Maedas-

"To the north. We will need a lot of energy if we're going to take on Aerus, so we'd better make sure we have a lot of food. I feel a moist breeze come from over there, without the smell of civilization in it. If we head north it shouldn't be too long before we reach an uninhabited coast. We can rest there for the next couple of days" The Tribe of the Skies started walking north, following their leader. His reasoning was flawless as always, the very reason the tribe was still existent. Arghon had already lead them around a sandstorm, a tundra and a couple of droughts, to name just a bit of what he's done in the last 50 years.


-Sark Rorak-

The leader had claimed to know where to travel. They would head deep into the mountain range to get close to where Gairra must've been sealed away. Lately more and more people have began doubting the leader really knew what he's doing, but Sark trusted the leader. The leader had never been wrong before, so how could he be wrong now, with something this important?


-Jamès Liarthe-

The Fire Legacy didn't have any luck on tracking down Pyrone. There were many volcanoes, and they didn't have any clue which one was more likely to have kept him, not to mention the inability to predict where it'd move. For now, they just travel in hopes of finding something interesting.

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-Yamenha Lusos-


kriiii kriiii kriiii kriiii


Orbs of light bobbed and wafted gently across the star-filled canopy. Under the mindful watch of their blue-white glow, an impossible expanse of kiosks and vendors lined the braided vine streets. A myriad of flames, caged in delicate ornate stone lanterns and bound to graceful birch perches, cast stretching shadows that dipped up and between the foliage-hewn sidewalks, dancing in time with the thousands of feet perusing their wares. Sharp tinkles of laughter erupted in pinpricks from the dull roar as the night stretched onward, bringing forth more and more people from their distractions and duties. From miles away, from the fallen leaf to the upmost branch, a great pillar of flickering gold and silver could be seen, emanating the joy and liveliness of its people and the nature surrounding it.



Nearest the first sublayer of the mighty city, a figure passed quietly, enrobed in the colors of cornsilk and sunlit bluegrass. He held his back straight, head high, and his face calm and content in the bustle of the crowd. Out of the clamor of the people around him, a smallish woman dashed about, sliding and smoothing between silks and satchels until she reached his side. Her hand landed on his, grasping it tightly in the shadow between them.


"Yamenha, grace to you! Where are you trying to shimmy off to on this night?" She held up a leafy tortillon wrapped in tissue, quinoa and other grainy delights poking from its mouth.


"Enjoying the festivities? I thought I'd bring you something from Maltew's. He has the best spikewraps in all the tribes!" He smiled at her, eyes flashing vibrant green in the flame of a jewelry shop. He waved his hand in dismissal, causing her to sag a bit.


"Ah! But, I've already had one..." She looked up at him. "Well, well...at least I tried, right?"


He smoothed a hand over her pixie brown hair, finding a bit of a twig in it and tugging it away. She fussed quietly at her misplaced hairs.


"Just witnessing the joy in your faces is enough sustenance for me." She groaned and lightly bumped against him.


"You're too good, you know that? To me, to us, to everything. Honestly." She began to gnaw on the treat she'd bought him. He shuddered with light chuckles.


"I try to do right by you all. You have given me so much in return: kindness, love, alliance...what else could I ever want for?" He shook his head. "On this night, I see the souls of the people commingling, radiant in bonds between all tribes...and it sobers me." A whoosh of flame erupted from a Fire Tribe talent, roasting kebabs of all sorts to the utter joy of the folk around. Rounds of praise and applause nearly deafened him.


"And I appreciate it. All of this, these nights of Silvyte's return."


"Then why are you circling about all idle?" That was a simple question, with a very simple answer. He sighed.


"Because this vitality can be so much for me partake in. I'm taking a quick walk out into the darkness to clear my mind. As you know, my duties come before my indulgences." He flipped a finger down her nose, watching her squirm about. "So...take care, and enjoy yourself, Aesley. I'll be back before the celebration ends." He gave her hand a squeeze before trailing off, disappearing into the dizzying expanse. He left no time for questions.


Alone, the mist curled about the roots of his home. He was quick to depart as soon as he left ear and eyeshot of the visitors. Yamenha's eyes ached at his peripherals, blinding light scorching against the anonymity of dark. He rubbed his neck and fluffed out his locks, taking deep breaths.




The air felt comfortably moist as he distanced himself from the Tribe. The cool reached through his robes to his skin, sending a thrill down his spine. Tonight, things would change. Let them make merry. Their indifferent existence will be rewarded, yes. And graciously.


Here, many night lillies and moon flowers bared their petals to the silver glow, indiscriminate but beautiful among the black-green zebra plants and sun-yellowed vines. The feeling here was so much different than in the city: there, he was bloated and hot, overtaken by zeal and hedonism; here, he was clean and fresh, crisp as the night air. He had always felt drawn here...like it was more a home than his own. And it wasn't entirely wrong; most of these undergrowth plants were his, parents and children from all across the globe, completely of his own making. The cityfolk were so stricken that they could've named him Tribe Leader right then--he contributed to the forest, the flagrance, the ego.


But things were different now. As he neared a foggy creek, guarded by the forefathers of the trees, he stopped and rubbed at the base of his spine. He took a seat on a stump, the wood unrightfully stolen from them, and waited. There was company due.

Edited by Sugar-Free

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Furistreak lay in his cotton sleeping bag under the stars. The city lights glared off in the distance. The sun began to rise, giving the land a golden-pink glow. "And another day of searching begins." He mumbled to himself. He rose, and looked around. The fire was now ashes. The sound of a gurgling stream could be heard faintly in the distance. Golden horns flashed in the grainfield ahead. The deer bounded off, back into the safety of the forest. Furistreak looked at his map. It showed the edge of the forest. All the way from a place marked 'Opale Noir ' and then 'City' at the bottom.

Furistreak looked over to his horse, Argent. Black eyes started back into his.


3 Hours Later


Furistreak looked at his map, then his surroundings. The forest began to curve around him. Him and Argent dashed under the green canopy. The air became cooler, and the sun couldn't breach the thick leaves above. Glints of black could be seen in the distance, barely between the trees. Eventually Furistreak came to a stop in a clearing. A giant black temple loomed over him. It was made out of Shiny stone, and ingraved in it's walls were images of riders on horses, with spirit panthers at their heels. Furistreak left Argent tied to a tree, and walked in. The air was freezing, but Furi didn't mind. His grabbed a black coat, dark as midnight, out of his bag. He dropped his bag meaninglessly on the floor, and trotted in. "Leave, now" "The ice will take you" "Give up" Whispers all around him. Furi seemed to not even notice them. He continued down the dark corridor, when the walls began to light up. Whisps of cream colored light danced on the walls. The flowed through the engravings, giving them life. A stair case going up could be seen ahead. Furi walked up the stair case, for miles it seemed. The temple was smaller than this stair case could fit, but somehow it kept going. Eventually, it ended. And open door lied ahead. Furi was miles in the air. Strong winds passed by. Then, Furi jumped.

Edited by American-Dragons

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Falling... Falling... Spirits of light began to surround him. Furistreak was falling for what felt like ages. The spirits began to get so thick Furi could only see a bight yellow light. He landed with a small thud. Furistreak looked around frantically. "Mother!" he called. "Mother! I've made it!" the world was bright around him. He was sitting down on top of glass floor in the sky. he looked down. Only pinkish-blue clouds could be seen. "Hello, my child." said a voice from behind. Furistreak turned around. He got up and ran to his mother, ready to embrace her. But when he put his arms around her, nothing was there. "Mother! No! Please, come back!" Furi looked beneath him. The glass was beginning to break. Loud cracking noises came from all sides. And then, Furi was blinded once more by a bright light. He opened his eyes. He was at the entrance of the temple, panting. Argent was stil at the tree, grazing on grass.


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A voice echoed through the hallowed halls of the dark temple. A few strands of wayward twilight drifted down from the smoky overgrowth above, dust swirling about in their wake. Only a few jagged holes in the deprecated ceiling allowed a view of the world above--disparaged, tainted, and cloudy.


Alone, in the uncanny limelight, a figure paced the length of a faded red carpet, stark against the black-grey stone it adorned. His feet crunched and rolled against fallen rubble, specks of an ancient colony wasted in the wake of adversity. In the crook of his arm, an inscribed tablet--though the language and its phonetics had been near lost to history, his moon-yellow eyes followed the text as if it was his own, deciphering it. Seemingly unnoticed, the form of a great feline face passed into view, its body detached in the shadows.


[i'm here.] The panther eased its limbs from the dark, pulling the eigengrau forth in its pelt, lithe body padding elegantly as it blotted out the glow. Its tail twitched slightly when it came to its evoker's front, and it regarded him with vivid orange eyes. [What is your desire?]


Yomiel...yes, that was his name, indeed. Yomiel traced a finger over the runes, feeling the little pits along the abraded corners. It had once been sanded and polished, but mistreatment had left the edges of the slightly-shiny tablet rough and unsightly. It was a shame. Nothing could be done about it, though--not now, at least. Perhaps one day.


"What's the status on Nekronas?" He didn't feel the need to ask anything otherwise. Kruseph, long-legged and astute, knelt before him.


[Nothing new to report. Other Guardians have fled their bonds. Life is in full celebration, as we speak.] Yomiel did similar to his Disciple, kneeling and giving a respectful scratch at Kruseph's temple. He leaned into his hand as he did so, eyes closed in contentment.


It was concerning. He focused on Kruseph's fur, contemplating how the hairs seemed to befuddle his perception and meld into obscurity. Though Nekronas had yet to make himself apparent, Silvyte had made sure to show herself to her home tribe, and that wasn't to speak of all the others. He knew it was for the best, for now; already, his Tribemates whispered of heresy, how many would soon turn to the Hunt to imprison or destroy their Guardian. If Nekronas was lost, imprisoned still, or merely roaming, he was safe. Yomiel hoped it deep inside his heart.


"Please continue your search with the others. Report back as soon as you hear anything." He stood and stroked Kruseph's head. "I have unearthed more remnants and I must begin my study." He bowed once more and turned, melting back into the shadows as he went.


Certain he was alone, he, too, gave himself to the mire. Down the ruined throne room steps, a large set of engraved doors stood solemn, their trim and handles depicting swirling shadows and Spirit Panthers, progeny of Nekronas made in his image. He stepped inside the man-sized gape between them, and reached instinctively for a hidden torch just inside the frame.


Along the path, a myriad of purple-white flames licked up the wicks of votive candles upon iron stands, leading the way to a massive panther-headed humanoid--it stood, face gaunt and fur rent down to the bones, bent over and aged over a crowd of panicked humans. One hand clutched at their departing souls as the other reaped them with a scythe. In his shouldered sack, a thousand faces and hands struggled against weathered burlap. His face was focused with intent, but not unkind.


Yomiel dropped on one knee and laid the plate down, one hand splayed against his face for humanity, one clenched to the ground for mortality.




Again, as he always did, he submitted to his Guardian, showing respect for his disfavored trade. He was careful to return to this sacred site daily, ready to welcome home his Guardian and show him the loyalty he deserved. He was certain that he hadn't missed him; Nekronas was said to ease the anxieties of those who stood in his shade, to calm them before they were gathered for the Harvest. As much as he would pretend otherwise, Yomiel was nervous.


"I've sought out another piece of your lasting word. I'm slowly amassing a library of texts forgotten here as you've slept. I know it in my heart that, before long, I will know you, the true you...and so then will they..."


So many years had passed since the Guardians had been locked away. The land had settled in their absence, but the tensions still remained. Even worse, the old tales of brutality by an entirely passive Guardian like Nekronas had lingered, growing more twisted and truthless as time passed. Yomiel was disgusted by it, for the sake of all the Guardians. Perhaps Arkos had abandoned them for a reason, hoping to spare his children the selfishness of the cretins they served.


I will be different. There's no need for strife in these short, self-centered lives of ours. I will not become a slave to my inclinations.


He waited. Maybe, just maybe...this time...things would be different. They would have to be.


Or our world will change beyond our reckoning.

Edited by Sugar-Free

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As Yomiel was kneeling in front of the statue of Nekronas, he suddenly heard something. A voice without a voice, speaking words, that came from everywhere, yet nowhere at all, into his mind.



I speak to you, the only one who can ? me.


My ? is located under ?.


Sealed by ?, guarded by ?.


Make your way past the darkness of ?.


Surpass the ? in the ? halls of ?.


And ? the ? to ? me.




The question marks are the old language words that Yomien doesn't know yet. He will be able to memorize them all perfectly, but he'll have to figure out what they mean to get an idea of what to do. He can find 2 words per post, but I'll allow 3 or 4 in one post if it's a long post. If he finds a word, you need to mention which word he found and I'll give you the meaning. Here's a list of the words he has to find, in random order to not make it too easy.














If you think there's one word missing in that list, there's not. One of them is used twice.

Edited by Felixr2

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