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Author Topic: :: The LifeDust Festival :: RP Prompt Raffle! (9/7 - 9/21)  (Read 176 times)

Blinded By Silence

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:: The LifeDust Festival :: RP Prompt Raffle! (9/7 - 9/21)
« on: September 07, 2020, 12:00:51 PM »




The Mothborn are like a family. Many different characters from many different backgrounds come together to share their beliefs and skills with one another. While many of these kin have spent years honing their craft, your kin can learn a lot from them, even on such a short visit.

Below is a list of Roleplay Prompts. To enter for the prizes above, all you have to do is answer as many of the prompts as you like! Each prompt completed will earn you a ticket to be entered into a raffle for the pets above! Remember, if you do not have a kin to answer with, feel free to make one up for this contest!

If your response to a prompt reaches 500+ words, you may count these as solos for Legendary Requirements!

This contest will close on 9/21!

Quote from: Withered Fungus
Your caravan moves along the path that leads towards the festival, a quiet buzz of excitement filling the air. Up ahead you hear the joyous whistling of a particularly eerily colored buck. The whistling dances across the air in a manner not unlike that of a small songbird. As you approach he stops his tune and turns towards you, a slight smile passing his lips.

"Hello travelers, come to celebrate our festival have you?" He questions in a way that makes you feel he already knows. "Well, before you continue, do you mind assisting me with something? See, I am a care-taker of fungi, and every year, before the festival, I try and gather up as many new species of spore as I can. This grove is well known for its strangely adaptive fungus, yet, due to poor planning on my behalf and the various needs of newborns, I am quite a bit behind schedule. If you find any, please don't consume them, just bring them to me"

Do you travel through the woods for a while looking for new mushrooms? If so, What do these new mushrooms look like? Do you even assist him?

Quote from: Pestilence
As you wander through the murkwood that makes up the Mothborn Territory, you stumble upon a collection of stillwater pools. Looking closely, you can tell that the paths around them are well worn, the earth surrounding them clear of any weed or debris. As you step close, peering into the scum-covered water, you are greeted with the grin of a skeleton. "Welcome," a low voice says. You turn and see a black buck, splashed with vivid color. His tone suggests that maybe perhaps you aren't as welcome as he says. "I would rather you didn't disturb them. They are here for cleaning." You recall that the Mothborn's Piecemakers are responsible for the cleaning of the bones of the dead, preparing them for burial, and putting the skeleton back together.

As you leave Pestilence's Pools, a thought trickles into your mind. Maybe one you've thought of before, or perhaps it is entirely new. What does your kin want to be done with their body after they die?

Quote from: Guardian of Life
In your wandering, you come across a grove of trees being tended to by a pale doe, her dragon like tail swaying behind her as she carefully tends to a fresh looking tree, a small basket of things near her, including a new sapling. She's lost in thought for a bit as she works, making sure the things that she, Rot, and the other grove tenders planted are growing steadily, and the unwanted weeds are removed so they don't choke the life from the new growths.

Finally she realizes she's not alone and turns a pleasant smile on her face, her tone gentle and patient. Most find it hard to believe this gentle doe is the mate to the dark buck with vivid colorings you encountered by the pools earlier in the day they are so opposite of one another. "Welcome to the Mothborn lands. This is one of the many groves that are tended to. This one in particular is where we perform the Rite of Renewal." as you listen to her, you remember there are various Groves that are tended to, this one is where a new tree is planted at the time of birth of a kin. The other groves differ you remember. Including ones that they use to make garlands and wreathes.

As you bid Guardian of Life farewell, so she can go back to planting trees and offerings, you find yourself wondering, what would you offer to the MotherFather? She explained it doesn't have to be much, but something is expected daily for offering. Would your kin make something? Gather something?

Quote from: Bitter Leaf Water
After leaving Guardian in the grove you find another path and here twins who look an awful lot like the doe you just left, and Pestilence. The buck is lost in the moment, explaining somthing to his twin before he pauses a moment surprised to see a visitor. "Oh, it's time for the festival isn't it? I was just telling Sweet Leaf Water all about the properties of this plant, especially when it's prepared in various ways!" the excitement Bitter Leaf Water has for his calling is absolutely evident in his voice, and his face as he proceeds to tell you all about the mushroom too. Finally the doe cuts him off with a laugh saying she needed to head off to the singers to prepare and that he should probably take his things back and get ready himself.

As you leave the twins, you can't help but smile at their differences, it was obvious both were herbalists, but it was easy to tell it was his first calling, and by the tone in her voice when she mentioned the singers, that the herbs were perhaps not her first choice. Which makes you wonder...would you be able to do two callings at once like her? Or would you be like Bitter, and focus solely on one passion?

Quote from: Perish Song
You spend most of the day wandering the Crest. Here on the little island, there are huge trees with roots that are above ground, and the hollows are where the kin make their homes. The homes are reinforced by dried reeds, held together by tar from the tar pits, and decorated with old Moth wings that have been shed, and bones of family members or companions. The entrance and floors of the homes are usually lined with boar skins, rabbit furs, and Rox skins to help keep the rain and chill at bay. Vines link from tree to tree, hanging low, stringing things together. Fireflies float around the woods in abundance. Toward the center of the crest, there's the circular fire pit, surrounded by smoothened stones; various offerings of skulls, dried flowers and fruits adorn the space.

As you stare into the pyre's bright flickering light, a ghastly face peers at you from between the flames. It takes you a moment to realize it is a kin, not a ghost. The skeletal looking doe blinks slowly, adding in her offerings for the day before leaving.

"She's a wonderful doe," A voice says to your side. A mossy buck steps forward, tossing his own offerings into the smoke, "Many kin here have been judged before truely knowing them. It's part of what brings us together."

As the buck takes his leave, a memory resurfaces in the mind of your kin. They recall a time of uninformed judgement. How does that make them feel?

Code: [Select]
[color=indigo][size=14][b]A Day In The Life...[/b][/size][/color]
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Scaramouche Fandango

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Re: :: The LifeDust Festival :: RP Prompt Raffle! (9/7 - 9/21)
« Reply #1 on: September 14, 2020, 01:40:17 AM »
A Day In The Life...
username Scaramouche Fandango
preference list Slug, crawfish, frog, tortoise, otter, mouse
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{alt}
She hadn't really known what to expect, coming in; she'd felt drawn to them because of their name. She was Moth-Mother; they were the Mothborn. It felt right for her to be here, to learn of them, to see who they were and what motivated them. What did they do? What did they believe? She was eager to experience it all. The wonder of the fluttering wings, the dust that trailed from them... even the most mundane things seemed magical to her here. "If it's fungus you want, I think I can oblige," she said to the stranger. In truth, she was more than willing to leave the caravan. She wanted to be more than a spectator; she wanted to participate to the fullest. And if one of these strangers needed something as simple as fungus... well, she could certainly spare the time to look for it.

She wasn't overly fond of mushrooms, so she... well, she wasn't looking for them that hard. If she saw some and nothing else, she wouldn't go back without some contribution, but the idea of carrying the bitter things in her mouth for that long wasn't her idea of a good time. And besides, there were so many other types of fungus. She hoped to find some turkey tails or some other shelf fungus type- those were so lovely, and so much nicer than the slimy fruiting bodies of your average mushroom. If you were looking after children, you wanted something more substantial and nutritive. Mushrooms were essentially nothing; something nice, like hen of the woods would be so much better. As she wrinkled her nose, reminiscing about the slimy texture of shaggy inkcaps, she faltered, her hoof sinking into soft ground. A plume of dust arched up from the ground, making her sneeze as the spores got in her nose. Puffballs! Huge puffballs, each one the size of a gourd. The dust rising from them matched the moth dust falling from the trees, and she gave the one she'd stepped on another experimental prod. Once again, a healthy trail of dust kicked up from her questioning hoof. She grinned mirthfully; it was a delightful visual effect. Yes, these would do nicely. Fun for everyone, and harmless- edible without the nasty mental effects that so many mushrooms seemed to have. Perfectly safe for children, and perfectly delicious. And if all else failed, they made nice pillows. You could sleep on a puffball, if you wanted to.

As she gathered them up, a white cloud of spores formed around her. They clung to her fur, to the short whiskers on her chin and around her nose, and to the delicate fronds of the antennae she bore instead of horns. They settled on her pelt like the dust on a moth's wings, giving her a new, lovely, delicate pastel look. A large piece of bark made a makeshift sledge; as she carried back a full load of puffballs, she found herself marvelling at the bounty of this place. So little time spent here, and already she was finding wonder in the woods. What else would she discover in the Mothborn territory?  (WC: 527)

tatterpixie

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Re: :: The LifeDust Festival :: RP Prompt Raffle! (9/7 - 9/21)
« Reply #2 on: September 14, 2020, 02:49:21 PM »
A Day In The Life...
username tatterpixie
preference list mouse, slug, crawfish, otter, tortoise, frog
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{alt}

For all that the Bonemarshes were unrelentingly dismal, there was something about this place that Snowmoon found almost soothing. The excited murmuring of his fellow travellers in the caravan fell muffled in the mist and the fog, the stillness wrapping around him like a grey blanket. It was a balm to his soul. Maybe this was where he belonged, where he was meant to be. Motherfather knew he hadn't been able to find his place anywhere else in Matope.

The cheerful bird-like whistle of the buck with the eerie markings and his request for assistance finding and gathering new fungus cut through the stillness, and through Snowmoon's reverie, and the pale buck found himself responding. "I would be happy to help. Just lead the way." Stepping out from the caravan, he followed the Mothborn into the grove and began scanning the ground for any mushrooms that seemed unusual or different. As he searched, his thoughts turned once more to the Bonemarshes and the tribe that lived here. He had encountered a few Mothborn before now, wanderers called Wind Walkers, and what they had told of their tribe and their life on the Crest intrigued him. Idly he wondered if they would accept him…

A bright splash of color caught his eye as he nosed through a clump of dead, rotting leaves. Oho, had he found something different? Using a hoof, he carefully and delicately moved the leaves out of the way so he could see what it was he had found.

Amongst all the more typical fungi he had found, this large specimen stood out; a dazzling purple, almost glowing with bioluminescence, its cap speckled with white spots along the edges of scales and its gills and stem a healthy, brilliant white. Snowmoon had never encountered anything like it, and he was quite fond of mushrooms and other fungi. Surely this would be something the Mothborn buck might be interested in. Gently the pale buck pulled the strange purple mushroom from the ground, snapping it off at the cup at the bottom of the stem. A small puff of spores escaped the gills and he sneezed as they got up his nose; almost immediately he began to feel a mild euphoria, nothing disorienting, but gentle and pleasant. He would have to tell the Mothborn buck about this effect -- perhaps it could be used medicinally, to ease depression or melancholy. His own melancholy feelings were certainly being affected, fading into the background and into a place where he could process them.

As he looked around he spotted more of them, and just as gently he harvested them, careful to avoid getting any more spores up his nose. Eventually he had a decent-sized collection of them, piled on a bed of hanging moss that could be easily carried. Gathering up the bundle of mushrooms, Snowmoon headed back toward where he had last seen the buck, his mood vastly improved and feeling increasingly optimistic about this trip, anticipating the LifeDust Festival with growing excitement. This was going to be life-changing, he could feel it.

[[wc:511]]

tatterpixie

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Re: :: The LifeDust Festival :: RP Prompt Raffle! (9/7 - 9/21)
« Reply #3 on: September 14, 2020, 07:04:45 PM »
A Day In The Life...
username tatterpixie
preference list mouse, slug, crawfish, otter, tortoise, frog
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{alt}

Snowmoon was left more than a little bit shaken by his encounter with Pestilence and his Pools. Death was absolutely a part of life, and he knew this was a major tenet of the Mothborn Tribe's traditions and belief system. But to be confronted with it so abruptly was something he hadn't quite been prepared for. With a shake of his head to collect himself, he continued his wandering through the woods. The reverence with which the Mothborn held the dead in general was something the pale buck hadn't ever encountered before; more than reverence, really, as the tribe integrated the departed into every aspect of their existence, even their housing. He recalled the sense of stillness and peace that permeated Pestilence's Pools and in a moment of clarity likened it to that sense of stillness and peace he had felt earlier when the caravan was travelling through the gloaming of Mothborn Territory. It made sense to consider whether that same sense permeated everything about the Mothborn.

And he started thinking about his own eventual passing, because one couldn't muse upon death without considering one's own mortality. Snowmoon was still a young buck yet, healthy and strong, yet the Swamp was a dangerous place and it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that something could happen. He hadn't really thought about death, even amongst all his wanderings through various tribes' territories and even outside Matope, hadn't really thought about how close to death he might have come -- or how close to death he might come in the future. What would happen to him, to his body, after he died?

Well, he supposed, that would depend upon where he died. If he was in Matope, the swamp would probably consume him before he was found. If he was in the desert home of the Acha, the sun would bleach his bones or the red sand would take him. Either way, he would likely be forgotten. And that was just two of the places he'd been, as he had yet to settle on a place to call home. Or would he be forgotten? He knew that the Mothborn accepted bodies from all over, to be processed according to the wishes of the kin's family or tribe. But if he was of the Mothborn, would his remains be brought back here, to be processed by Pestilence and pieced back together and integrated back into the tribe? He realized he rather liked that idea; there was, again, something soothing about living on in the memory of one's tribemates, having one's bones become part of the living structure of the tribe so that those kin who remained would see them and think of him during the course of their day. It was so pure and caring and comforting that the pale buck decided that would be what he would want when he died.

Looking back over his shoulder at the still pools where the bodies of the Mothborn were prepared and put back together again, Snowmoon smiled. "Someday…"

[[wc:507]]

Scaramouche Fandango

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Re: :: The LifeDust Festival :: RP Prompt Raffle! (9/7 - 9/21)
« Reply #4 on: September 16, 2020, 02:57:37 AM »
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username Scaramouche Fandango
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{alt}
  "Oh..." she said, quietly backing away, the skull's grin impressed upon her mind. "Sorry. It just seemed so... peaceful back here. I didn't mean to disturb anyone."

She'd heard a saying once, about how the blood of the covenant was thicker than the water of the womb. She supposed that this was a poetic way to go; a return to the Motherfather cocooned in water, much how a foal slumbered in their sac, cradled by the waters of life. She'd seen the aftermath of floods; how quickly those lifegiving waters could turn!

She'd never really thought about what would happen with her own husk after she passed away. Would it wither and shrivel, having done its job? Or would someone bury it?

That wasn't really what she wanted. What she wanted was violent, in a way. Not the death part. That, she wanted to be peaceful- or, if not peaceful, noble at least. She would like to die of old age, a quiet and dignified ending for a life lived without regret. She wanted to slip under quietly, without the need for a last great show of courage- but she could muster that, if she had to. If she couldn't die peacefully, then she would rather like to die for a reason, defending something greater than herself. She didn't want to have to, but she she could stomach that, if necessary.

But after the end, when she had no use for her mortal remains, she knew exactly what she wanted done with them. She wanted to be eaten.

A kin was an animal like any other, made of flesh and fat and bone. Every part of her could be used by the land to replenish itself and heal the scars she'd left in the world just by existing. That's what existence was, leaving wounds and scars. It was unavoidable, and it wasn't a bad thing- because at the end, you'd have a chance to make up for the harms you'd caused to the innocent others. It would start small, with the little creatures; the wasps, the flies, their children. Fungi, the great equalizer, would bloom in her bones, helping break her down and return her to soil. Larger creatures could scavenge; carnivores could crack open her bones, releasing the richness of the marrow within. Birds, should they wish, could pick through her sloughed-off fur, taking it home to line their nests.

She was only a temporary resident in this body of hers, only in this shape for as long as the time she had. Like an insect, one day she'd change shape- she'd undergo the final metamorphosis that all kin do. Her body was a chrysalis; she was always evolving into the imago she'd be someday. And perhaps this was the first of many moults to come; nobody knew what came after death. Some favored the idea of reincarnation, but she found something wondrous and ponderous in not knowing. What she did know was that she would flow back into the energy that drove the Swamp, one way or another- and her body, if she had her druthers, would prolong that energy as well. (WC: 525)

Scaramouche Fandango

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Re: :: The LifeDust Festival :: RP Prompt Raffle! (9/7 - 9/21)
« Reply #5 on: September 19, 2020, 04:12:44 PM »
A Day In The Life...
username Scaramouche Fandango
preference list Slug, crawfish, frog, tortoise, otter, mouse
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{alt}
  Her third day in the Mothborn's territory found her exploring a grove unlike the others she'd encountered so far. This one was full of new life, not fading life; small trees and green plants sprung up, tended by kin who cared for them deeply. Here, too, there was the same air of nurturing and tenderness that she'd felt near the skeleton pools. The kin here cared. The need to nurture and develop and facilitate change from one state to another was an undercurrent she found everywhere. The whole tribe was chrysalic in nature, each member a cocoon, a crucible for transformation. Moth-Mother really found herself admiring this ability to patiently develop change; it was an ethos she felt strongly drawn to. As she listened to Guardian of Life, she thought about what their understanding of the Motherfather meant, and how it both dovetailed and stood in contrast to her own.

What would the Motherfather want? She understood the Swamp as a neutral party, to be honored and respected, but not appeased. You couldn't appease it, couldn't change its nature by plying it with gifts.

But maybe... maybe that wasn't the point of the gifts.

Perhaps the gifts weren't really for the Swamp, but for the kin who gave them. Making an offering, a sacrifice of sorts, was a way to remind yourself of what was important. You placed something small, but significant, in a place of honor, and it reminded you of the things you valued and cherished. Things that were so important to you- maybe not the things themselves, but what they represented- that you wanted to elevate them in your eyes, and the eyes of everyone around you.

That kind of offering made a lot of sense to her. She could see the importance of making sure that your values were reproduced and that you took the time each day to center yourself, to think about what was important, and to consciously place that in your mind and your heart. And if your offering was something practical, something natural- well, all the better. Offerings here could help plants to grow, plants that would revitalize the ecosystem, plants that would fill kins' bellies. Plants that could heal. Her initial thought was to offer chrysalises, but there could be dangers with that. Some moths and butterflies were pollinators; others were pests, and she wouldn't want to accidentally introduce bagworms or something of that nature to this protected grove. So only chrysalises of known species, or perhaps captured bugs of helpful species. Ladybird beetles, to protect against aphids. Bees and wasps, to pollinate. Salt-crusted rocks, to discourage ant activity around delicate seedlings, or perhaps a nice, fat toad to serve as a watchful guardian. These gifts and offerings wouldn't have to be static- if anything, it seemed as though static offerings stood slightly opposed to the goals of the Mothborn. Nothing was permanent here, nothing lasted forever, and everything decayed eventually. But this decay brought forth new life, and the cycle would begin anew. She appreciated that. Whatever she offered the Motherfather would be in line with these values, the principles she held so dear. (WC: 526)

Mima

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Re: :: The LifeDust Festival :: RP Prompt Raffle! (9/7 - 9/21)
« Reply #6 on: Today at 08:37:31 PM »
A Day In The Life...
username Mima
preference list Crawfish, Mouse, Frog, Otter, Tortoise, Slug
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{alt}
Immortal Smoke wasn't unfamiliar with skeletons by any means, having seen a number of them born from the bodies of what-used-to-be-kin by flame in the wildfire that had torn through her tribe. The difference between that and Pestilence's pools, however, was that these seemed... cleaner. The Mothborn had a certain way of separating flesh from bone, instead of having it all melt together like a puddle of ashy, burnt-smelling muck, slowly being absorbed by the swamp, or being torn apart by wild beasts. A tribe so closely tied to death had its secrets she supposed, and had boiled the process down more to a science than a grotesque facet of nature.

It certainly seemed more... "noble." Less painful than any of the other choices she'd thought of. And yet there was something oddly... soulless to it. Though, she supposed the souls of the dead were no longer within their bodies to disagree.

She'd long since anticipated her death, seeing so many of her fellows killed in the flames. Frankly, she was living on borrowed time as much as Burns-With-Rage was, though her flesh had remained for the most part unscarred by her experience; at least, unscarred compared to him. There was a lot of life for her to live before death took her, and she never knew at what point it would come calling. After all, she owed it. Her lucky roll of the bones wouldn't last forever, and death always followed through on its debtors.

For the longest time, she'd been focusing on life. Never forgetting death, but feeling it as an ever-present specter resting on her back. Every time she was wounded in her wanderings, had her tail's hair torn from the dock, or barely scraped by another life-or-death situation, she almost felt a little... disappointed. It wasn't that she really wanted death, but rather that she hated the anticipation of knowing it could be right around the corner. That she'd never know when it would come for her, and demand back what she'd cheated from it in the cruelest way possible.

Her death itself, she supposed, should always have been back in the flames. And so, when she thought of what would become of her corpse afterward... well, it should certainly be burned away. If she was to find her way to the next life, she'd want to be sure that there was nothing left of this worldly body of hers that her soul could ever hope to return to. Seeing Burns-With-Rage, with all his scars and his tail torn away, and yet clinging to life though all the others thought him ghastly- she knew that kind of unholy determination was in her blood. Even if there were a shred of her hair left, or a single bone uncrushed in the pile of ashes... she'd be unsatisfied. She could still go on with just that much of her left.

Smoke and ash, she thought, was all she'd like to leave. Her soul rising up into the night sky with the embers of a funeral pyre and her remains tilled back into the soil the next morning all the same as the charred logs that held her.

That, she thought, would be the only way the swamp could hope to truly be rid of her.

[547]