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+---- Thread: [open quest] Can you guess our secrets? ROUND II (/showthread.php?tid=25033)
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Can you guess our secrets? ROUND II - Voracious - 09-24-2019
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Vollkorn+SC&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"><style> #mythicalquest{ width:600px; border:1px solid #8d6a5b;} #mythicalquestcontainer{ width:600px; position:relative; z-index:1; background:-webkit-linear-gradient(bottom, rgba(243,230,221,0), rgba(243,230,221,1)180px); background:-o-linear-gradient(top, rgba(243,230,221,0), rgba(243,230,221,1)180px); background:-moz-linear-gradient(bottom, rgba(243,230,221,0), rgba(243,230,221,1)180px); background:-linear-gradient(to top, rgba(243,230,221,0), rgba(243,230,221,1)180px); background:-ms-linear-gradient(bottom, rgba(243,230,221,0), rgba(243,230,221,1)180px); margin-bottom:-190px; padding-top:25px; padding-bottom:50px;} #mythicalquesttext{ width:500px; color:#8d6a5b; font-family: 'Vollkorn SC', serif; font-size:16px;} #mythicalquesttext a:link, a:visited {color:#8d6a5b} #mythicalquestimg{ position:relative; z-index:0;}</style><center><div id="mythicalquest"><div id="mythicalquestcontainer"><p id="mythicalquesttext" align="justify">The bravest of believers come, stepping through the door. Some hesitantly, some eagerly, some without thought, but nevertheless they all cross the threshold.
For a moment, there is only darkness. But then it begins to clear, a dry, arid wind stirring to wipe the darkness and replace the scentless void with dust and burning sand. As those daring few blink away the darkness, they would find themselves squinting against the impossibly bright sunlight and blowing desert dust.
It’s immediately clear this is no longer home, or wherever it is they had come from.
Once the fog clears, the first thing one would note in this desolate landscape is the massive sandstone sculpture that looms before them. An odd thing with a feline form and human features. Some might know the creature. Might have heard the impossible stories held fable by ancient fairytales. But as the still, stony features begin to stir with life, it becomes clear this is no fairytale.
As improbable as it may seem, the ancient statue shifts and rumbles, dust rising as stone scrapes against stone, unbearably loud after the hush from whence they’d come. As those harsh, disapproving features turn down, staring at the intruder, a voice rumbles in a startlingly deep and booming echo from vocal chords that should not function. <b>“WHO DARES DISTURB MY PEACE?”</b>
Perhaps they answer, perhaps the do not. Their apologies, their stunned or recalcitrant silence, nor even their petulant arguments would change the sphinx’s demand. <b>“FOR YOUR IMPUDENCE, MY RIDDLE YOU MUST ANSWER. CHOOSE CORRECTLY, AND YOU MAY PASS. CHOOSE POORLY, AND FACE MY WRATH.”</b>
****************************************
Welcome to round two, the Sphinx’s Riddle! In this round, your task is easy. Or hard, depending on how you like riddles.
Each and every one of you has been given a different riddle to answer (the riddles were assigned randomly using this randomizer: https://www.random.org/lists/).
You have twenty four (24) hours to answer the riddle (September 25th at Noon central standard time).
Posts are not required in this round, though if you choose to write a few words to continue the story or express reactions, please feel free! Ultimately however, this round will be judged solely on the accuracy of your response to the riddle.
You are welcome to use whatever means you have available to discover the answer, but the deadline is a hard one. Any late responders will be booted.
Failure to respond will result in a temporary defect. Even an incorrect answer is better than none, as far as the sphinx is concerned.
@[Velkan]
Whoever makes me can hear me, but they are the only one who can. What am I?
@[Demetyr]
I am not known until I am measured, but somehow you still miss me when I have flown. What am I?
@[Rebelle]
What starts with the letter e, ends with the letter e, and only has one letter?
@[lilian]
I am an ear, but I hear nothing. What am I?
@[Kha]
I build up castles, yet I can bring down mountains. I will blind some met, yet help others to see. What am I?
@[Popinjay]
Everyone is attracted to me, everyone falls for me. What am I?
@[Aedan]
If you walk on me while I live, I don’t make a sound. If you walk on me when I die, I mutter and grumble. What am I?
@[Beulah]
I have a bed, but I never sleep. I have a mouth, but I never eat. I’m always running, but never walking. I often gurgle, but never talk. What am I?
@[Aislyn]
When you do not know what I am, then I am something. When you know what I am, then I am nothing. What am I?
@[larke]
The more you take away from me, the larger I become. What am I?
@[Pteron]
You must give me before you can keep me. What am I?
@[flutter]
You have heard me before and you will hear me again, but I will die until you call me again. What am I?</p></div><div id="mythicalquestimg"><img width="600px" src="https://i.postimg.cc/HLC7n42D/Quest.jpg"/></div></div></center>
RE: Can you guess our secrets? ROUND II - Demetyr - 09-24-2019
The filly is startled as she is, yet again, transported into another land. The large demeaning figure before her is unlike any creature she'd ever seen it before. Its face both horrible and beautiful. Gasping her muscles tremble as the words fill the empty space surrounding them. It demands an answer.
Brow furrowing, Demi thinks about the reply she ought to give. Never considering her to be overly intelligent, she is surprised when her mind stumbles upon an answer.
Trembling she offers up one simple phrase, her voice as light as a feather. <b>"Is the answer you seek, Time?"</b>
RE: Can you guess our secrets? ROUND II - lilian - 09-24-2019
<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Monsieur+La+Doulaise' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'> <style type="text/css"> .lilian_container { position: relative; z-index: 1; background: #a58474; width: 600px; padding: 0 0 0 0; border: solid 1px #38253b; border-radius: 0px 0px 300px 300px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 10px 1px #000; } .lilian_container p { margin: 0; } .lilian_image { position: relative; z-index: 4; width: 600px; border-radius: 0px 0px 300px 300px; } .lilian_text { position: relative; z-index: 6; width: 580px; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: -40px; background: #e4d9ce; border: solid 1px #38253b; border-top: none; box-shadow: 0px 0px 10px 1px #38253b; } .lilian_message { position: relative; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify; color: #000; padding: 30px 50px; } .lilian_name { color: #a58474; font: 70px 'Monsieur La Doulaise', cursive; line-height: 0.8; padding-bottom: 10px; } .lilian_quote { font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; background: #a58474; color: #e4d9ce; padding: 20px; letter-spacing: 1px; border-bottom: solid 1px #38253b; }</style> <center> <div class="lilian_container"> <div class="lilian_text"> <p class="lilian_quote">I never cared for anyone so much. I was born with a bomb inside my gut.</p> <p class="lilian_message">
She has never known magic.
So, she steps into the sand dizzy.
She thinks this is a strange place to go when you die as she peers up at the massive sculpture that appears to be staring back at her. She wonders – quite abstractly – how he got here and then thinks that there must be no rhyme or reason to being dead.
The ground trembles beneath her feet as the sphinx awakens and a tendril of fear shoots sharply through her as she stares up at it. A riddle, it says, perturbed. And she listens closely. She thinks of her travels with her father, how he’d stopped once at a peculiar plant and nudged it with his nose. ‘It’s corn,’ he’d said and she’d looked at him with a puzzled expression when he’d smiled and added, ‘they call these ears.’
Her heart gives a start when she finds her voice enough to say. “<b>Corn,</b>” the volume of it buoyed only by the joy of the memory of her father. “<b>An ear of corn.</b>”
</p> <p class="lilian_name">lilian</p> </div> <img class="lilian_image" src="https://i.postimg.cc/WtLf5jM5/lilian.png"> </div> </center>
RE: Can you guess our secrets? ROUND II - Velkan - 09-24-2019
<center><img src=https://i.postimg.cc/jjX7tzkz/Velkan-by-Space-small.png></center><center><table bgcolor=2d2b2c style="border-color:#FFFFFF; border-width: 10px; border-style: solid; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: -30px"" cellspacing=15 cellpadding=15 width=500><tr><td><p align=justify><font color=c1a6b3 face=times size=2>Well not to be dramatic but I almost shit myself.
In fact, a little fart of fear might have escaped. But I manage to answer anyway.
<b>"Thoughts?"</b> If we're just gonna ignore the existence of mind-readers, that is.
</font></p></tr></td></table></center>
<center><a href="https://www.deviantart.com/space1993/art/I-FOUND-PEACE-IN-YOUR-VIOLENCE-802990303">artwork by space1993</a></center>
RE: Can you guess our secrets? ROUND II - Beulah - 09-24-2019
The little pink girl can only blink as she tries to comprehend what she’s seeing. She’s put together a few things. One - she is not anywhere she’s ever been before. Two - her mother is definitely not here. And Three- there’s a big scary <i>thing</i> who seems decidedly unhappy that she stepped through the doorway. Oops.
Beulah’s thoughts turn to Sylva and Starsin and for a heartbeat, she wishes she’d never left. But she grits her teeth and is determined to be brave. She is surprised, however, when the stone...thing...requires nothing more than a riddle. Her mood lifts, slightly, as she listens intently - committing the parts of the riddle to memory.
Her brow furrows and she scrunches her nose as she thinks. Lots of things have beds. Lots of things run, but most of those things walk too. And most things have mouths...but what gurgles. The answer hits her like a bolt of lightning and the girl leaps straight into the air.
<b>“Oh I know I know! It’s a River! They run and have riverbeds and have a mouth and they <i>definitely</i> gurgle,”</b> she says, confidently, with a nod of her head.
<b>“Is that right? I’m not sure if I know what wrath is but it doesn’t sound like something I’d like....” </b> she adds, the concern evident in her voice.
RE: Can you guess our secrets? ROUND II - Kha - 09-24-2019
It takes only a moment once hes through to adjust. At first the howling, thrashing sand stung against his tender body, but once he transitioned back to a semi ghostly form it passed through him eagerly enough. He could only feel the uncomfortable, tingly sensation.
His eyes adjusted to the blinding sand and sun infront of him. There stood a giant of gods scolding him for his inconvenience. He listens a frown burrowing it's way across his face as he thinks. Memories of lifetimes pass through his mind.... sand.
<b>The answer is sand.</b> he says confidently at the looming prescence.
RE: Can you guess our secrets? ROUND II - Pteron - 09-24-2019
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Courgette&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"><style type="text/css">.pteron_horse_container{position:relative;z-index:1;width:550px;font:12px 'Times New Roman', serif;}.pteron_horse_container p{margin:0;}.pteron_horse_message {margin-top: -50px;background: #fff;border-radius: 50px;border-left: 5px solid #587D83;border-right: 5px solid #587D83;text-align:justify;padding: 15px 30px;padding-bottom: 40px;color:#587D83;}.pteron_horse_name {position: absolute;right: 70px;bottom: -5px;font: 30px 'Courgette', cursive;color: #587D83;}.pteron_horse_font_size {font-size: 20px;}</style><center><div class="pteron_horse_container"><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/NfXJ4Qtn/pteron.png" style="width:550px;"><div class="pteron_horse_message"> The air that whips at his face is not the cool forest breeze on the opposite side of the doorway. Pteron almost turns back to see if the door remains, but his movement is cut short as a world forms out of the darkness. It’s suddenly too bright to see, and Pteron tucks his head away as though that will protect his eyes that have adjusted for the darkness. By the time he can see clearly his ears catc the sound of shifting stone.
The sound itself is not unfamiliar, not for a man who has spent months on the mountainside, but what he sees most certainly is.
For a long moment he merely gapes, his blue mouth falling open as the stature roars its displeasure. Somewhere in the back of his mind he considers telling the creature that it shouldn’t leave the door open if it doesn’t want visitors, but the wiser part of him is quiet. He remains quiet as the creature riddles him, though he remembers only after several long moments of consideration to close his awestruck mouth.
Pteron almost says ‘a name’, but then reasons that he keeps that regardless of who he gives it to. A secret? No, not that either.
<b>“My word.”</b> The dun stallion finally answers. His voice is sure, but there is a tenseness to his body, as though he is as prepared for her wrath as well as for being told he is correct.
<p class="pteron_horse_name"><span class="pteron_horse_font_size">--</span> pteron <span class="pteron_horse_font_size">--</span></p></div></div></center>
RE: Can you guess our secrets? ROUND II - Aedan - 09-24-2019
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Josefin+Sans&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"><style type="text/css">.aedan_boy_container{position:relative;z-index:1;width: 550px;background: #1f3f65;font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif;border: 1px solid #050e49;box-shadow: 0 0 10px #050e49;}.aedan_boy_container p{margin:0;}.aedan_boy_gradient {position: absolute;z-index: 5;top: 215px;width: 550px;height: 200px;background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(31,63,101,0) 0%, rgba(31,63,101,1) 100%);background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(31,63,101,0) 0%,rgba(31,63,101,1) 100%);background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(31,63,101,0) 0%,rgba(31,63,101,1) 100%);filter: progid
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#001f3f65', endColorstr='#1f3f65',GradientType=0 );}.aedan_boy_message {width: 500px;position: relative;z-index: 10;margin-top: -80px;text-align:justify;padding: 10px 0px;color: #D3E0D5;border-top: 1px solid #050e49;border-bottom: 1px solid #050e49;}.aedan_boy_name {font: 66px 'Josefin Sans', sans-serif;color: #1f3f65;text-shadow:0 0 6px #fff;text-align: center;padding-top: 30px;}.aedan_boy_quote {position: absolute;z-index: 15;font: 14px 'Josefin Sans', sans-serif;color: #208ea9;letter-spacing: 2px;text-shadow: 1px 1px 2px #050e49;}.aedan_boy_quotetop {top: 310px;right: 150px;}.aedan_boy_quotebottom {bottom: 75px;right: 180px;}</style><center><div class="aedan_boy_container"><img src="https://k.nickpic.host/rpZoqY.jpg" style="width:550px;"><div class="aedan_boy_gradient"></div><p class="aedan_boy_quote aedan_boy_quotetop">i have loved the stars too fondly</p><div class="aedan_boy_message">The darkness turns to pitch. Without the stars, his aura sputters out and he’s left with only the subtle glow of his own skin, not enough to see by. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, the wind seeming to blow the darkness away as if it is a thing that can be so easily removed. Yet Aedan finds himself blinking against the impossible brightness of the world around him now. The air is dry, arid, and he is no longer the boy in the wood. He is no longer in Beqanna at all. There is a strange statue before him, the pale gold of sand with features that belong to both feline and human. He can’t place what the features belong to, can’t find a story in his memory to understand the creature before him as it awns awake and <i>demands</i> who had dared disturb the strange creature.
Aedan does not answer. Partly out of fear, and partly because he doubts the giant cat-like sculpture actually cares. It goes on, giving him a riddle. For a moment (or perhaps many long moments) the boy just stares, the words jumbling around in his brain unwilling to form into a coherent thought.
Finally he manages to break it down. What does he walk on? Dirt? No, it makes no noise and doesn’t live. Grass? It is a quiet thing when living and a bit crunchy when dead, but he’s not sure that’s right though at least it seems like a plausible answer to give. Better than silence. But he is the boy in the woods, and finally, the answer comes to him.
<font color=#208ea9> “Leaves,”</font> he says, thinking of the wood. <font color=#208ea9> “Fallen leaves crunch beneath your feet.”</font> On the tree, and even when he managed to pluck them off to eat them, green living leaves made no sound. But dead, dried and brown, they crunched and muttered and grumbled beneath his hooves.
All he can do is hope he’s right. The creature doesn’t seem like a thing to upset anymore with a false answer, but then again, what does a boy know of the world really? He could be so very wrong.
</div><p class="aedan_boy_quote aedan_boy_quotebottom">to be fearful of the night</p><p class="aedan_boy_name">aedan</p></div></center>
RE: Can you guess our secrets? ROUND II - Popinjay - 09-24-2019
Darkness surrounds her.
The air does not move, but it does not smell stagnant, it does not smell at all. There is no sound but for her breathing and the dull thud of her hooves on the unseen ground below, and when the yearling drops her muzzle to brush against it, the dust that clings to her lips has no flavor. She continues to step forward, blind and confident, the thrill of this dark, quiet, place lighting her veins on fire.
Then, a wind. The sensitive whiskers around her muzzle and eyes stir first, a breath of warning before she is buffeted from all directions by a wild wind that blows away the darkness like a flag torn to shreds, remnants of it curling and flipping and racing away. She cranes her neck to watch it disappear through lowered lids, turns her head away from the wind instead of into it so the sand is blown around her but not into her eyes, not into her nostrils and ears and teeth. The sun is so bright after the encompassing nothing that tears jump to her eyes, she sees stars, but they soon fade, along with the mad, gusting, wind, and she casts her gaze about her, eagerly.
It is no surprise to Popinjay that she is not where she left. This is not the Taiga. Her understanding of geography is poor, but she is certain this is no part of Beqanna proper at all. The sand shifts underfoot but she wastes no time worrying about it. Not when, before her, rising tall and serious, is a statue; part human, part lion, part eagle. It is impressive, yet the only thing she thinks is <I>I could climb that.</I> In fact, she tries, and has even gotten close enough to place one grey hoof on its great paw when, rather without warning, the sculpture shudders, dust lifting in clouds, and rises. Popinjay squeals and shies to one side, but circles back quickly as the Sphinx awakens. A mad grin brightens her dark face and she tosses her forelock aside, baring the jaunty star on her brow.
"You're <I>almost</I> as tall as Aten, I think! Almost... but, <I>not quite</I>." she shouts up to the rocky creature, beaming, "My name is Popinjay! If you don't want folk to climb you, you should try looking less like a big, stupid, rock!" The dark filly laughs and rears, dancing sideways on her back legs like a goat. The Sphinx is right to accuse her of impudence.
Its riddle stops her, though, interrupts her motion, if only for a moment. She does not fear the creature's wrath and no part of her says she is taking its threats too seriously, but she does love a riddle and her upper lips points and quirks to the side, wrinkling as she thinks. What is everybody attracted to, what does everybody fall for? She remembers, briefly, a quiet conversation with Lethy on why the feather she stole from Lepis drifted down every time, never up like you might expect a wing feather to do. <I>Gravity</I> Lethy had said, <I> Gravity is what makes everything fall to the ground, even feathers.</I> And then she remembers another conversation, one between two stallions in the Taiga, when Popinjay was young and intruding where she shouldn't. Something mischievous flashes in her eye when she looks up again.
"Have you ever met a mare named Kensa?"
RE: Can you guess our secrets? ROUND II - larke - 09-24-2019
<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Allura' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'> <style type="text/css"> .larketwo_container { position: relative; z-index: 1; background: url('https://i.postimg.cc/Y24jrMd5/larketwo-bg.png'); width: 600px; padding: 0 0 0 0; border: solid 3px #e0e2e6; box-shadow: 0px 0px 10px 1px #000; } .larketwo_container p { margin: 0; } .larketwo_image { position: relative; z-index: 4; width: 600px; } .larketwo_text { position: relative; z-index: 6; width: 580px; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: -325px; border: solid 1px #e0e2e6; border-bottom: none; } .larketwo_message { position: relative; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify; color: #444a4a; padding: 30px; } .larketwo_name { position: absolute; z-index: 10; bottom: -25px; right: 20px; color: #c3c4c6; font: 100px 'Allura', cursive; text-shadow: 0px 0px 10px #242924; opacity: 0.8; } .larketwo_quote { font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; color: #798482; text-align: left; font-style: italic; padding-top: 30px; padding-left: 30px; line-height: 1.3; } .larketwo_quotetwo { font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; color: #798482; text-align: right; font-style: italic; padding-right: 30px; line-height: 1.3; } </style> <center> <div class="larketwo_container"> <div class="larketwo_text"> <p class="larketwo_quote">carried by the current of the morning <br>miles below the surface of the dawn<p> <p class="larketwo_message"> Larke has never been particularly clever.
She’s never been one who spends hours on mental problems, wiling away at the possible solutions for it. So she has no immediate answer when the sphinx appears before her, roaring to life from sand. She startles a little, takes a tentative step back, her sage green eyes widening slightly with the surprise of it.
But she doesn’t run.
Because while she is not particularly brave or clever, she is also not cowardly.
Instead, he face just knits together, lips pressing into a thin line as she angles her head in thought.
“I am so sorry for disturbing you,” she offers, her voice apologetic as she looks up through the gentle waves of her forelock. “I had no idea that you were here.” Not that it matters, of course. She knows that.
But before her apology can take root, he is offering a riddle and her face knits together again.
<i>The more you take away from me, the larger I become. What am I?</i>
She shakes her head, unsure, the static in her brain filling.
Until she thinks of her brother’s mischievous play one day—the way he had dug at the earth around her. Littering the Tephran soil with pockmarks until she had finally given in and laughed along with him.
He had dug and dug at the earth—but the more he pulled out from it, the bigger each one got.
“I’m not sure, but,” her voice is uneasy as she continues, “is the answer a hole?” </p> <p class="larketwo_quotetwo">this is not the place that I was born in <br>but it doesn't mean it's not the place where I belong<p> </div> <div class="larketwo_name">larke</div> <img class="larketwo_image" src="https://i.postimg.cc/sf8ywW98/larketwo.png"> </div> </center>
Alternative Answer: Ryatah. Ba dum tss.