<![CDATA[Beqanna - Mountain]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/ Thu, 22 Oct 2026 23:40:35 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[you have lived more than enough; round three | round two results inside]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=32216 Fri, 16 Oct 2026 15:49:43 -0400 a demon]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=32216 —
Upon entering the cave, there was a great crash—it made the very foundation of the underwater matter shudder. The giant shark slammed into the entrance, over and over, trying to wedge itself in deeper. Serrated teeth gnashing together.  A great current pressed forward, sending the Baltians surging into tunnels that opened up at the back of the coral cave. Some were ground to nothing against the sharp walls.
A few of the others lived to suffer the sensation of their flesh peeling from their bones. The shark eventually retreated, realizing it could not fit further than the width of its body would allow.
Only you and Rajah were left alive.
She told you that you both needed to get to her mother—”Nereus has betrayed me.”
And so you both set off down the tunnels, the paths illuminated by glowing plankton.
Water still murky with blood.
Blood?
Time rippled around you.
The bloody water was mist, and you had your legs back, and not fins, and you were screaming—everyone was screaming.
And then it was gone, and it was just you, and Rajah, and the soft, blue light of the cave.
You grow as close as you want during your travels, but the nearer you draw to the Sea Witch’s cavern under the mountain, the faster time seemed to move.
You meet the Sea Witch. A giant octopus-like creature, as black as sin, with the head of a horse. Despite her terrifying appearance, she greeted you warmly. If only because Rajah decided you were one of them now.
You were there when the guards bring in the decapitated head of Rajah’s brother—his milky white eyes staring forever at nothing.
You were there when Nereus and his forces attacked the kingdom while everyone slept—although, you didn’t know what was happening. Not at first. Time slowed to what felt like a crawl. You had spent months living among the Baltians, the memories like vivid dreams you’d been forced to watch. But you had grown fond of them. You almost didn’t want to go back to… back to… where had you come from, again?
A scream echoed from one of the tunnels, followed by another, and then another.
The Baltians woke in a panic, they rushed to meet the enemies invading their tunnels—and were immediately cut down by the wolf-hybrids that had dragged you into the fissures. They, too, had traded their lower half for fins and scales.
Rajah was screaming now.
You rushed to save her—only to come across Nereus slamming her head with his hooves against the coral, over and over again, until the screaming stopped.
And then time itself stopped around you.
Everything stopped moving—the demons, the Baltians that were being attacked.
Nereus.
A shadow stepped from his body, taller than them—it walked on two legs through the water as if it were on dry land. It held out its clawed hand and a sceptre appeared into the air with a woosh of black smoke. A crown raised from its skull.
It was the titan from before—only scaled down to size.
“Time is a thief,” it chuckled, reaching out with its free hand to place its palm to your cheek.
The ground dropped out from beneath you.
The sun was blinding, though it was starting to set—it would be the only witness to your demise. At least, until your body, operating solely on instinct you didn’t know it possessed (and perhaps it didn’t before), snapped open your new wings and you soared upward toward the clouds.
There was a loud roar from behind you—and a stream of fire billowed past, narrowly missing you. You could feel its heat, sweat pricked along your flesh.
“DRAGON!” A horse shouted from a nearby cloud.
“DRAGON!” Another voice answered.
And then a herd of Pegasi descended from the clouds, unleashing a flurry of strikes and elemental attacks against the scaly, black beast.
“Are you just going to flap around there?” A white stallion with dawn-colored wings snapped before he shot forward into the fray. “Help us!”

--

1. Describe wandering the tunnels with Rajah.
2. Describe building a bond with Rajah.
3. Describe her mother’s kingdom and what it was like meeting the Sea Witch.
4. Describe the massacre.
5. And, finally, end it with being plunged into a battle with a dragon—end on a cliffhanger.

—
NEREUS - THE SERPENT USURPER
—

With seconds to spare, you make it to the narrow cut through the reefs Nereus beckoned you toward. There was a ripple as a current surged past you in the shark’s wake, stirring your fins and mane.
The shark decided to avoid cutting itself on the sharp coral and instead circled back toward the cave.
“I cannot believe you followed me,” Nereus chuckled behind you. “What luck.”
And the world went dark.
You would catch bits and pieces, of course.
The pain would wake you between bouts of unconsciousness, though you did not know what sort of magic made you sleep. The wolf-demons were dragging you through the reefs, across the coral, not caring where your head landed nor how many cuts were inflicted upon your body. You could feel heat coming from… somewhere.
And then, as they climbed the underwater mountain, you grunted at the orange glow that was growing brighter and brighter—and turned your head away from the pulsing, fiery orb once they crested the reef. It wasn’t until you heard the sounds of another struggle that you forced your eyes open.
There was another Baltian—identical to Rajah—but broader, denser. Thicker.
The missing brother she had mentioned earlier.
Despite his begging, Nereus ordered the wolf-demons to rip his head from his poll. Rather than it filling the empty spaces between them murky-red, the blood was siphoned toward the glowing sphere. It was sucked into its center, and veins sprouted through the orange ball, so that it resembled the membrane of an egg.
“More,” a voice rasped, the sphere rippled.
Nereus stood nearest the orb. He closed his eyes, muttering an incantation you couldn’t quite make out. The wolves pulled you forward. One stepped in front, grabbing your head—while the others gripped you from behind. And they pulled. And pulled.
You could feel your head being ripped from your neck, feel flesh beginning to tear—
And then time stopped.
A shadow stepped from Nereus, taking the shape of the titan that had ordered the wolves drag you into the fissure. “Time is a thief,” it chuckled, reaching out with its free hand to place its palm to your cheek.
The ground dropped out from beneath you.
The sun was blinding, though it was starting to set—you were falling fast and it would be the only witness to your demise. At least, until your body, operating solely on instinct you didn’t know it possessed (and perhaps it didn’t before), snapped open your new wings and you soared upward toward the clouds.
There was a loud roar from behind you—and a stream of fire billowed past, narrowly missing you. You could feel its heat, sweat pricked along your flesh.
“DRAGON!” A horse shouted from a nearby cloud.
“DRAGON!” Another voice answered.
And then a herd of Pegasi descended from the clouds, unleashing a flurry of strikes and elemental attacks against the scaly, black beast.
“Are you just going to flap around there?” A white stallion with dawn-colored wings snapped before he shot forward into the fray. “Help us!”

--

1. Describe being dragged across the undertow.
2. Describe the orb and seeing the demons at the ritual.
3. Describe seeing Rajah’s brother beheaded.
4. Describe your character’s near-decapitation.
5. And, finally, end it with being plunged into a battle with a dragon—end on a cliffhanger.

—
THE MEGALODON
—

The shark was racing toward you, mouth open—and you chose to stand and face it. Despite your most valiant efforts, the beast swallowed you whole. In the darkness, you were swept down its gullet and slowly began to be digested. You could feel the acid eating away at your flesh. “Not yet,” a voice chuckled.
The shark’s innards dropped out from beneath you.
The sun was blinding, though it was starting to set—you were falling fast and it would be the only witness to your demise. At least, until your body, operating solely on instinct you didn’t know it possessed (and perhaps it didn’t before), snapped open your new wings and you soared upward toward the clouds.
There was a loud roar from behind you—and a stream of fire billowed past, narrowly missing you. You could feel its heat, sweat pricked along your flesh.
“DRAGON!” A horse shouted from a nearby cloud.
“DRAGON!” Another voice answered.
And then a herd of Pegasi descended from the clouds, unleashing a flurry of strikes and elemental attacks against the scaly, black beast.
“Are you just going to flap around there?” A white stallion with dawn-colored wings snapped before he shot forward into the fray. “Help us!”

--
1. Describe being eaten by the Megalodon.
2. Reminisce (Can be about anything).
3. Describe being inside its stomach and nearly being digested.
4. And, finally, end it with being plunged into a battle with a dragon—end on a cliffhanger.

—

YOU HAVE BEEN TELEPORTED BACK TO THE DARK AGES OF STRATOS!

FOR THIS ROUND
Your character is back in their own body and has wings, the wings can be in any style you like or wings they already had.

You have been granted a power for making it thus far to aid you on your quest (you will keep this power until the quest is over). You must choose: Fire, Wind, Water, or Earth Manipulation. This will be your element for the remainder of the quest, so choose carefully.

Posts must be a MINIMUM of 700 words.
The last three to respond will be eliminated.
The last three to respond need only respond with 400 words.
The deadline to respond is Wednesday, October 21st 11:59PM EST.

If you are eliminated from this round, your character will return to the dead and you will receive a genetic 4-space trait to be passed on to their descendant or another character they deem worthy. Whoever receives the trait will suffer from severe sunniphobia (fear of the sun) and visions from the contestant's time in the quest for four starter posts. It’s up to the player to determine if they want to keep the phobia or not.

--

RESULTS FROM ROUND TWO:
KARS - Please post an update to claim your genetic 3-space trait after you decide which character you would like to grant it to.
ALAUNUS - Please post an update to claim your genetic 3-space trait after you decide which character you would like to grant it to.
ELENTARI Eliminated/forfeiture of trait, since you didn’t respond. I’m sorry!

Characters that receive a trait from Round Two are plagued by the contestant’s memories of the quest via nightmares for exactly two starter posts. It’s up to the player to determine if they keep having the nightmares.]]> —
Upon entering the cave, there was a great crash—it made the very foundation of the underwater matter shudder. The giant shark slammed into the entrance, over and over, trying to wedge itself in deeper. Serrated teeth gnashing together.  A great current pressed forward, sending the Baltians surging into tunnels that opened up at the back of the coral cave. Some were ground to nothing against the sharp walls.
A few of the others lived to suffer the sensation of their flesh peeling from their bones. The shark eventually retreated, realizing it could not fit further than the width of its body would allow.
Only you and Rajah were left alive.
She told you that you both needed to get to her mother—”Nereus has betrayed me.”
And so you both set off down the tunnels, the paths illuminated by glowing plankton.
Water still murky with blood.
Blood?
Time rippled around you.
The bloody water was mist, and you had your legs back, and not fins, and you were screaming—everyone was screaming.
And then it was gone, and it was just you, and Rajah, and the soft, blue light of the cave.
You grow as close as you want during your travels, but the nearer you draw to the Sea Witch’s cavern under the mountain, the faster time seemed to move.
You meet the Sea Witch. A giant octopus-like creature, as black as sin, with the head of a horse. Despite her terrifying appearance, she greeted you warmly. If only because Rajah decided you were one of them now.
You were there when the guards bring in the decapitated head of Rajah’s brother—his milky white eyes staring forever at nothing.
You were there when Nereus and his forces attacked the kingdom while everyone slept—although, you didn’t know what was happening. Not at first. Time slowed to what felt like a crawl. You had spent months living among the Baltians, the memories like vivid dreams you’d been forced to watch. But you had grown fond of them. You almost didn’t want to go back to… back to… where had you come from, again?
A scream echoed from one of the tunnels, followed by another, and then another.
The Baltians woke in a panic, they rushed to meet the enemies invading their tunnels—and were immediately cut down by the wolf-hybrids that had dragged you into the fissures. They, too, had traded their lower half for fins and scales.
Rajah was screaming now.
You rushed to save her—only to come across Nereus slamming her head with his hooves against the coral, over and over again, until the screaming stopped.
And then time itself stopped around you.
Everything stopped moving—the demons, the Baltians that were being attacked.
Nereus.
A shadow stepped from his body, taller than them—it walked on two legs through the water as if it were on dry land. It held out its clawed hand and a sceptre appeared into the air with a woosh of black smoke. A crown raised from its skull.
It was the titan from before—only scaled down to size.
“Time is a thief,” it chuckled, reaching out with its free hand to place its palm to your cheek.
The ground dropped out from beneath you.
The sun was blinding, though it was starting to set—it would be the only witness to your demise. At least, until your body, operating solely on instinct you didn’t know it possessed (and perhaps it didn’t before), snapped open your new wings and you soared upward toward the clouds.
There was a loud roar from behind you—and a stream of fire billowed past, narrowly missing you. You could feel its heat, sweat pricked along your flesh.
“DRAGON!” A horse shouted from a nearby cloud.
“DRAGON!” Another voice answered.
And then a herd of Pegasi descended from the clouds, unleashing a flurry of strikes and elemental attacks against the scaly, black beast.
“Are you just going to flap around there?” A white stallion with dawn-colored wings snapped before he shot forward into the fray. “Help us!”

--

1. Describe wandering the tunnels with Rajah.
2. Describe building a bond with Rajah.
3. Describe her mother’s kingdom and what it was like meeting the Sea Witch.
4. Describe the massacre.
5. And, finally, end it with being plunged into a battle with a dragon—end on a cliffhanger.

—
NEREUS - THE SERPENT USURPER
—

With seconds to spare, you make it to the narrow cut through the reefs Nereus beckoned you toward. There was a ripple as a current surged past you in the shark’s wake, stirring your fins and mane.
The shark decided to avoid cutting itself on the sharp coral and instead circled back toward the cave.
“I cannot believe you followed me,” Nereus chuckled behind you. “What luck.”
And the world went dark.
You would catch bits and pieces, of course.
The pain would wake you between bouts of unconsciousness, though you did not know what sort of magic made you sleep. The wolf-demons were dragging you through the reefs, across the coral, not caring where your head landed nor how many cuts were inflicted upon your body. You could feel heat coming from… somewhere.
And then, as they climbed the underwater mountain, you grunted at the orange glow that was growing brighter and brighter—and turned your head away from the pulsing, fiery orb once they crested the reef. It wasn’t until you heard the sounds of another struggle that you forced your eyes open.
There was another Baltian—identical to Rajah—but broader, denser. Thicker.
The missing brother she had mentioned earlier.
Despite his begging, Nereus ordered the wolf-demons to rip his head from his poll. Rather than it filling the empty spaces between them murky-red, the blood was siphoned toward the glowing sphere. It was sucked into its center, and veins sprouted through the orange ball, so that it resembled the membrane of an egg.
“More,” a voice rasped, the sphere rippled.
Nereus stood nearest the orb. He closed his eyes, muttering an incantation you couldn’t quite make out. The wolves pulled you forward. One stepped in front, grabbing your head—while the others gripped you from behind. And they pulled. And pulled.
You could feel your head being ripped from your neck, feel flesh beginning to tear—
And then time stopped.
A shadow stepped from Nereus, taking the shape of the titan that had ordered the wolves drag you into the fissure. “Time is a thief,” it chuckled, reaching out with its free hand to place its palm to your cheek.
The ground dropped out from beneath you.
The sun was blinding, though it was starting to set—you were falling fast and it would be the only witness to your demise. At least, until your body, operating solely on instinct you didn’t know it possessed (and perhaps it didn’t before), snapped open your new wings and you soared upward toward the clouds.
There was a loud roar from behind you—and a stream of fire billowed past, narrowly missing you. You could feel its heat, sweat pricked along your flesh.
“DRAGON!” A horse shouted from a nearby cloud.
“DRAGON!” Another voice answered.
And then a herd of Pegasi descended from the clouds, unleashing a flurry of strikes and elemental attacks against the scaly, black beast.
“Are you just going to flap around there?” A white stallion with dawn-colored wings snapped before he shot forward into the fray. “Help us!”

--

1. Describe being dragged across the undertow.
2. Describe the orb and seeing the demons at the ritual.
3. Describe seeing Rajah’s brother beheaded.
4. Describe your character’s near-decapitation.
5. And, finally, end it with being plunged into a battle with a dragon—end on a cliffhanger.

—
THE MEGALODON
—

The shark was racing toward you, mouth open—and you chose to stand and face it. Despite your most valiant efforts, the beast swallowed you whole. In the darkness, you were swept down its gullet and slowly began to be digested. You could feel the acid eating away at your flesh. “Not yet,” a voice chuckled.
The shark’s innards dropped out from beneath you.
The sun was blinding, though it was starting to set—you were falling fast and it would be the only witness to your demise. At least, until your body, operating solely on instinct you didn’t know it possessed (and perhaps it didn’t before), snapped open your new wings and you soared upward toward the clouds.
There was a loud roar from behind you—and a stream of fire billowed past, narrowly missing you. You could feel its heat, sweat pricked along your flesh.
“DRAGON!” A horse shouted from a nearby cloud.
“DRAGON!” Another voice answered.
And then a herd of Pegasi descended from the clouds, unleashing a flurry of strikes and elemental attacks against the scaly, black beast.
“Are you just going to flap around there?” A white stallion with dawn-colored wings snapped before he shot forward into the fray. “Help us!”

--
1. Describe being eaten by the Megalodon.
2. Reminisce (Can be about anything).
3. Describe being inside its stomach and nearly being digested.
4. And, finally, end it with being plunged into a battle with a dragon—end on a cliffhanger.

—

YOU HAVE BEEN TELEPORTED BACK TO THE DARK AGES OF STRATOS!

FOR THIS ROUND
Your character is back in their own body and has wings, the wings can be in any style you like or wings they already had.

You have been granted a power for making it thus far to aid you on your quest (you will keep this power until the quest is over). You must choose: Fire, Wind, Water, or Earth Manipulation. This will be your element for the remainder of the quest, so choose carefully.

Posts must be a MINIMUM of 700 words.
The last three to respond will be eliminated.
The last three to respond need only respond with 400 words.
The deadline to respond is Wednesday, October 21st 11:59PM EST.

If you are eliminated from this round, your character will return to the dead and you will receive a genetic 4-space trait to be passed on to their descendant or another character they deem worthy. Whoever receives the trait will suffer from severe sunniphobia (fear of the sun) and visions from the contestant's time in the quest for four starter posts. It’s up to the player to determine if they want to keep the phobia or not.

--

RESULTS FROM ROUND TWO:
KARS - Please post an update to claim your genetic 3-space trait after you decide which character you would like to grant it to.
ALAUNUS - Please post an update to claim your genetic 3-space trait after you decide which character you would like to grant it to.
ELENTARI Eliminated/forfeiture of trait, since you didn’t respond. I’m sorry!

Characters that receive a trait from Round Two are plagued by the contestant’s memories of the quest via nightmares for exactly two starter posts. It’s up to the player to determine if they keep having the nightmares.]]> <![CDATA[don't mistake my threats for bluff; round two - round one results inside]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=32203 Fri, 09 Oct 2026 09:11:10 -0400 a demon]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=32203
There was only darkness.
And then there was light.



⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

It filtered through the clear water above, casting strange lines of curling shadows below; a school of curious, colorful fish prod at you—and then they skitter away, afraid. Moving is awkward. You discover you no longer have four legs. No, you have the usual two in the front. But your hind legs are gone, replaced with a fish-like tail. Gills flutter along your sides when you breathe. Your mane was gone, replaced by fins; there are more fins and frills than you are even aware of. Fish-like scales have replaced your coat, though they are the same color your coat always was.

While you were busy trying to regain your bearings, a group crept close; they watched you from behind the reefs, from behind the rocks. Their movement was fluid, careful to not draw your attention—smooth enough that the fish don’t even spook when they glide past.

Some of them have tusks, others have an underbite with jagged fangs—some have both or neither.

That didn’t matter.
What mattered was that they had deemed you an intruder.

The largest of the group moved in first, circling you like a pack of sharks—and then the others came drifting forward. It didn’t take you long to figure out that they commanded the sea. Especially as the currents wrapped themselves around you like invisible ropes to hold you in place.

A small mare swam forward, black and red; her massive tail fanned out behind her, she fixed you with a cold, black-eyed stare. “Who are you, outsider?” She half-hissed, half-growled—a feral, guttural sound unlike anything you have ever heard.

A blue stallion floated beside her, looking bored. “Rajah, we should take them back to your mother. Your brother is still missi—”

“Silence, Nereus,” she sneered.

Before the blue stallion could respond, a great shadow spread over the sand; looking up, you see the impossibly colossal shark. Brown, with a soft, white underbelly and thick bands of darker brown stripes. It surged downward, swallowing half of the gathered creatures in one swoop—whole.

Everyone started to scatter, screaming.

You zip between rock, between reef, between every crook in the coral as you try to desperately avoid the Megalodon.

“Outsider!” Rajah barked, motioning for you to follow her into a nearby cave cut into the coral with other survivors of her party.

“If you go with her, you will die!” Nereus shouted, beckoning you to follow him through a narrow passage between the reefs.

The blood was now thick in the water, making everything murky—and the Megalodon was coming back for its second pass.

—



WELCOME TO PREHISTORIC BALTIA!



You have three choices:
  1. Go with Rajah.
  2. Go with Nereus.
  3. Face down the Megalodon.



Responses must be at least 500 words.
The last three to respond will be eliminated.
The last three only need at least 300 words.

If you are eliminated from this round, your character will return to the dead and you will receive a genetic 3-space trait to be passed on to their descendant or another character they deem worthy. Whoever receives the trait will be plagued by the contestant’s memories of the quest via nightmares for exactly two starter posts. It’s up to the player to determine if they keep having the nightmares.

If your character joined the quest while alive, they may choose to keep the trait for themselves.

The deadline to respond is October 12th, 11:59PM Eastern.

Failure to respond will result in forfeiture of the trait.



—



RESULTS FROM ROUND ONE:
Rapture - Please post an update to claim your genetic 2-space trait after you decide which character you would like to grant it to.

Oceanus - Since you didn’t respond within the allotted time, but you did respond, please post an update to claim your genetic 1-space trait after you decide which character you would like to grant it to.

Tithe - Eliminated/forfeiture of trait, since you didn’t respond. I’m sorry!]]>
There was only darkness.
And then there was light.



⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

It filtered through the clear water above, casting strange lines of curling shadows below; a school of curious, colorful fish prod at you—and then they skitter away, afraid. Moving is awkward. You discover you no longer have four legs. No, you have the usual two in the front. But your hind legs are gone, replaced with a fish-like tail. Gills flutter along your sides when you breathe. Your mane was gone, replaced by fins; there are more fins and frills than you are even aware of. Fish-like scales have replaced your coat, though they are the same color your coat always was.

While you were busy trying to regain your bearings, a group crept close; they watched you from behind the reefs, from behind the rocks. Their movement was fluid, careful to not draw your attention—smooth enough that the fish don’t even spook when they glide past.

Some of them have tusks, others have an underbite with jagged fangs—some have both or neither.

That didn’t matter.
What mattered was that they had deemed you an intruder.

The largest of the group moved in first, circling you like a pack of sharks—and then the others came drifting forward. It didn’t take you long to figure out that they commanded the sea. Especially as the currents wrapped themselves around you like invisible ropes to hold you in place.

A small mare swam forward, black and red; her massive tail fanned out behind her, she fixed you with a cold, black-eyed stare. “Who are you, outsider?” She half-hissed, half-growled—a feral, guttural sound unlike anything you have ever heard.

A blue stallion floated beside her, looking bored. “Rajah, we should take them back to your mother. Your brother is still missi—”

“Silence, Nereus,” she sneered.

Before the blue stallion could respond, a great shadow spread over the sand; looking up, you see the impossibly colossal shark. Brown, with a soft, white underbelly and thick bands of darker brown stripes. It surged downward, swallowing half of the gathered creatures in one swoop—whole.

Everyone started to scatter, screaming.

You zip between rock, between reef, between every crook in the coral as you try to desperately avoid the Megalodon.

“Outsider!” Rajah barked, motioning for you to follow her into a nearby cave cut into the coral with other survivors of her party.

“If you go with her, you will die!” Nereus shouted, beckoning you to follow him through a narrow passage between the reefs.

The blood was now thick in the water, making everything murky—and the Megalodon was coming back for its second pass.

—



WELCOME TO PREHISTORIC BALTIA!



You have three choices:
  1. Go with Rajah.
  2. Go with Nereus.
  3. Face down the Megalodon.



Responses must be at least 500 words.
The last three to respond will be eliminated.
The last three only need at least 300 words.

If you are eliminated from this round, your character will return to the dead and you will receive a genetic 3-space trait to be passed on to their descendant or another character they deem worthy. Whoever receives the trait will be plagued by the contestant’s memories of the quest via nightmares for exactly two starter posts. It’s up to the player to determine if they keep having the nightmares.

If your character joined the quest while alive, they may choose to keep the trait for themselves.

The deadline to respond is October 12th, 11:59PM Eastern.

Failure to respond will result in forfeiture of the trait.



—



RESULTS FROM ROUND ONE:
Rapture - Please post an update to claim your genetic 2-space trait after you decide which character you would like to grant it to.

Oceanus - Since you didn’t respond within the allotted time, but you did respond, please post an update to claim your genetic 1-space trait after you decide which character you would like to grant it to.

Tithe - Eliminated/forfeiture of trait, since you didn’t respond. I’m sorry!]]> <![CDATA[way down we go --]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=32202 Wed, 07 Oct 2026 14:11:18 -0400 Caster]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=32202
The quiet hangs heavily against the patchwork of his pelt. Caster wonders where he’d left them. Those that he had known, those that he had loved, and unmistakably loves still. He wonders where he himself had been left, too, memories seeping into him from the mists only to muddle beneath the darkness that emanates from the corners of the Commons. Drenching his worry with what ifs and even stills.

When the tobiano approaches the mountain, the world around him simmers into a hazy complacency, curling up against him as though the instance was secluded to him, and him alone. Maybe it was.

Every second hangs as he climbs upward until his approach feels heavy and slow. Weighted like a thought, a remembrance that keeps him tethered to the summit. Tokens that build and bubble just beneath the surface tension, Cas seeks his memories, and like this climb—they leave him reaching for more ground, more comfort with each breath of exertion that he gains. Latching on to the pain, because perhaps, that’s where all of the answers were.

If he could not evoke his memories, perhaps he could learn to recognize what they had left behind.

May he feel what remains.

CASTER
Corridor x Praytell

Caster is attempting to quest for Empathic Echoes 2 spaces
He currently has no expressed traits 
]]>
The quiet hangs heavily against the patchwork of his pelt. Caster wonders where he’d left them. Those that he had known, those that he had loved, and unmistakably loves still. He wonders where he himself had been left, too, memories seeping into him from the mists only to muddle beneath the darkness that emanates from the corners of the Commons. Drenching his worry with what ifs and even stills.

When the tobiano approaches the mountain, the world around him simmers into a hazy complacency, curling up against him as though the instance was secluded to him, and him alone. Maybe it was.

Every second hangs as he climbs upward until his approach feels heavy and slow. Weighted like a thought, a remembrance that keeps him tethered to the summit. Tokens that build and bubble just beneath the surface tension, Cas seeks his memories, and like this climb—they leave him reaching for more ground, more comfort with each breath of exertion that he gains. Latching on to the pain, because perhaps, that’s where all of the answers were.

If he could not evoke his memories, perhaps he could learn to recognize what they had left behind.

May he feel what remains.

CASTER
Corridor x Praytell

Caster is attempting to quest for Empathic Echoes 2 spaces
He currently has no expressed traits 
]]> <![CDATA[or i'll raise the tide so high, all of beqanna will die; round one]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=32195 Fri, 02 Oct 2026 12:26:10 -0400 a demon]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=32195 “Good.”

The black titan leans its head forward, allowing sunlight to peek out from behind its massive crown; bright, white, blinding light stretches out from beyond the giant towards the beach. The waves standing at attention begin to race to meet in the middle, encircling the gathered souls—trapping them. Spirits who have not yet made it the gathering wail angrily beyond the walls of water as they are forced to return back to the afterlife.

It lifts its obsidian sceptre, then drives the end of it down into the wet sand. The sunlight is gone again. The earth beneath their feet rumbles, splitting from the point where the sceptre pierced towards the horses; it fractures off into glowing red fissures.

A throne made of tidal waves appears behind the creature. It sits, watching without expression as the sea stretches above them to form a curved ceiling. Saltwater drips from the top of the watery dome like rain, hissing when it lands inside the fissures and steam billows up from them. The only light now comes from the red glowing up from the cracks.

And then a clawed hand appears from the fissure.

The monster pulls itself from the red ravine, its lips curling back in a snarl; it is abysmally black, just like its master. The smell of sulphur clings to its dense, furred hide. The head of a direwolf sits atop the shoulders of an impossibly muscular, human-like torso. Long, thick horns curl out of its skull. It snorts, scraping its cloven hooves across the sand as it turns toward the gathering.

More follow.

Hundreds—a thousand.

They vary in size, crawling over one another; some of them squeal when one of their brethren pries them from the walls and casts them back down.

“Fetch,” the black titan, with its many voices, commands them and the demons below answer back with snarls and howling.

They are as violent toward one another as they are in the pursuit of their targets, ripping and tearing at one another to get to the souls first. They are all captured, some with teeth—others with claws. The demons drag them back to the fissures, regardless of their struggling, and as they near, the black titan’s giant hands appear from the fissures to snatch the horses and demons.

The demons are crushed within its grip.

There is carnage strewn across the sand until the walls of water begin to collapse, washing it all away; the sea clashes against itself in the middle, sending massive waves rushing towards The Beach.



-



Write your character responding to the demons, getting captured, and the giant hands pulling them down into the fissures. Getting pulled into the fissure should be a ‘fade to black’ moment.
Post must be at least 500 words.

The last three to respond will receive a 2-space genetic trait, you may choose an existing trait from the database or create one and submit it for officer approval. Your character is dragged back down into the afterlife (if they joined as a deceased character). If alive, they wake up as if they were having a nightmare and you may decide if they keep the trait or if it gets passed down.

The trait can be passed to one of their descendants, or someone they deem worthy of it. The character who receives the trait will be cursed with Aquaphobia (Fear of Water—yes, even tiny puddles) and the contestant’s memory of their participation in the quest for exactly one post. It’s up to the player to determine if they want to keep the curse longer or make it permanent (severity of it can vary, but first post is extremely severe).

The last three to respond only need to write at least 100 words.
The cutoff time to respond is Monday, Oct 5th at 12:00 AM, Eastern.
Failure to respond will result in forfeiture of the trait.]]> “Good.”

The black titan leans its head forward, allowing sunlight to peek out from behind its massive crown; bright, white, blinding light stretches out from beyond the giant towards the beach. The waves standing at attention begin to race to meet in the middle, encircling the gathered souls—trapping them. Spirits who have not yet made it the gathering wail angrily beyond the walls of water as they are forced to return back to the afterlife.

It lifts its obsidian sceptre, then drives the end of it down into the wet sand. The sunlight is gone again. The earth beneath their feet rumbles, splitting from the point where the sceptre pierced towards the horses; it fractures off into glowing red fissures.

A throne made of tidal waves appears behind the creature. It sits, watching without expression as the sea stretches above them to form a curved ceiling. Saltwater drips from the top of the watery dome like rain, hissing when it lands inside the fissures and steam billows up from them. The only light now comes from the red glowing up from the cracks.

And then a clawed hand appears from the fissure.

The monster pulls itself from the red ravine, its lips curling back in a snarl; it is abysmally black, just like its master. The smell of sulphur clings to its dense, furred hide. The head of a direwolf sits atop the shoulders of an impossibly muscular, human-like torso. Long, thick horns curl out of its skull. It snorts, scraping its cloven hooves across the sand as it turns toward the gathering.

More follow.

Hundreds—a thousand.

They vary in size, crawling over one another; some of them squeal when one of their brethren pries them from the walls and casts them back down.

“Fetch,” the black titan, with its many voices, commands them and the demons below answer back with snarls and howling.

They are as violent toward one another as they are in the pursuit of their targets, ripping and tearing at one another to get to the souls first. They are all captured, some with teeth—others with claws. The demons drag them back to the fissures, regardless of their struggling, and as they near, the black titan’s giant hands appear from the fissures to snatch the horses and demons.

The demons are crushed within its grip.

There is carnage strewn across the sand until the walls of water begin to collapse, washing it all away; the sea clashes against itself in the middle, sending massive waves rushing towards The Beach.



-



Write your character responding to the demons, getting captured, and the giant hands pulling them down into the fissures. Getting pulled into the fissure should be a ‘fade to black’ moment.
Post must be at least 500 words.

The last three to respond will receive a 2-space genetic trait, you may choose an existing trait from the database or create one and submit it for officer approval. Your character is dragged back down into the afterlife (if they joined as a deceased character). If alive, they wake up as if they were having a nightmare and you may decide if they keep the trait or if it gets passed down.

The trait can be passed to one of their descendants, or someone they deem worthy of it. The character who receives the trait will be cursed with Aquaphobia (Fear of Water—yes, even tiny puddles) and the contestant’s memory of their participation in the quest for exactly one post. It’s up to the player to determine if they want to keep the curse longer or make it permanent (severity of it can vary, but first post is extremely severe).

The last three to respond only need to write at least 100 words.
The cutoff time to respond is Monday, Oct 5th at 12:00 AM, Eastern.
Failure to respond will result in forfeiture of the trait.]]> <![CDATA[now get in the water; halloween quest]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=32167 Tue, 22 Sep 2026 16:45:34 -0400 a demon]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=32167
There are cries of both fear and surprise that ripple across the entire continent. It stands above them a living eclipse, an ever-growing tidal wave drawn up around its legs like an old skirt. It hums a soft, melodic tune—an unholy siren singing to draw out the dead. The souls gather at its feet, no more than wisps of energy that slowly begin to take the shapes of their old flesh.

The demon is surprised to see some living creatures creeping across the damp sand from The Beach to join the souls of the dead, but no matter.

“Welcome back,” it whispers in a thousand different voices, some laughing—some crying, some screaming, others drowning—gurgling. It takes ages before it registers that the voices the creature is using are the voices from their past. Friends, enemies, lovers, family, and children all come together in a chorus so loud that it borders on deafening.

Maddening.

“Would you like to play a game?”



—



WELCOME TO THE 2026 HALLOWEEN QUEST!

  1. Players may enter one of their dead characters to participate. This character could have died at any point in Beqanna’s history. There is no activity requirement. Old lurkers are welcome (and encouraged) to join in, should they decide to. New players have the option to participate as one of their lineless character’s dead parents to build backstory (for this quest only) or as the character itself.
  2. There will be two grand prize winners (or three, depending on the amount of participants) with smaller prizes given out at the end to everyone for participation.
  3. At the end of the quest, the two (or three) winners will be given the option to bring their character back from the dead with a trait OR to have them pass the trait on to one of their descendants. This can be reserved for a future descendant (foal stats). New players have the option to give the trait to their character or one of their character’s descendants (foal stats) in the future.
  4. Defects/curses can happen in this quest, but they are only temporary and up to the player to determine how long they last (if a new player wins) or if an old player decides to revive their character. These won’t affect prizes and you will still receive them at the end of the quest. Prizes scale depending on what round you make it to. There will be four rounds in total and then a finale for the three winners.
  5. Replies to this post must be AT LEAST 450 words to enter.
  6. Entries close September 27th at 7:00 PM, Eastern.
  7. Quest ends on October 31st 7:00PM, Eastern.


If you want to set the tone: https://open.spotify.com/track/2vgqYllcT...2c5120411a]]>
There are cries of both fear and surprise that ripple across the entire continent. It stands above them a living eclipse, an ever-growing tidal wave drawn up around its legs like an old skirt. It hums a soft, melodic tune—an unholy siren singing to draw out the dead. The souls gather at its feet, no more than wisps of energy that slowly begin to take the shapes of their old flesh.

The demon is surprised to see some living creatures creeping across the damp sand from The Beach to join the souls of the dead, but no matter.

“Welcome back,” it whispers in a thousand different voices, some laughing—some crying, some screaming, others drowning—gurgling. It takes ages before it registers that the voices the creature is using are the voices from their past. Friends, enemies, lovers, family, and children all come together in a chorus so loud that it borders on deafening.

Maddening.

“Would you like to play a game?”



—



WELCOME TO THE 2026 HALLOWEEN QUEST!

  1. Players may enter one of their dead characters to participate. This character could have died at any point in Beqanna’s history. There is no activity requirement. Old lurkers are welcome (and encouraged) to join in, should they decide to. New players have the option to participate as one of their lineless character’s dead parents to build backstory (for this quest only) or as the character itself.
  2. There will be two grand prize winners (or three, depending on the amount of participants) with smaller prizes given out at the end to everyone for participation.
  3. At the end of the quest, the two (or three) winners will be given the option to bring their character back from the dead with a trait OR to have them pass the trait on to one of their descendants. This can be reserved for a future descendant (foal stats). New players have the option to give the trait to their character or one of their character’s descendants (foal stats) in the future.
  4. Defects/curses can happen in this quest, but they are only temporary and up to the player to determine how long they last (if a new player wins) or if an old player decides to revive their character. These won’t affect prizes and you will still receive them at the end of the quest. Prizes scale depending on what round you make it to. There will be four rounds in total and then a finale for the three winners.
  5. Replies to this post must be AT LEAST 450 words to enter.
  6. Entries close September 27th at 7:00 PM, Eastern.
  7. Quest ends on October 31st 7:00PM, Eastern.


If you want to set the tone: https://open.spotify.com/track/2vgqYllcT...2c5120411a]]> <![CDATA[~ * Happy Holidays * ~ now with results!!!]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=32060 Thu, 25 Dec 2025 22:46:30 -0500 Squirt]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=32060 - One per player
- You may choose what character you want the gift to apply to after you open the gift
- This is not first-come, first-serve. Everyone can pick a gift, and there's no limit to the number of players that can choose a specific gift
- This will end on December 31 at 11:59 PM CST



1
[Image: 9-fireplace.png]



2
[Image: 8-cold.png]



3
[Image: 7-toque.png]



4
[Image: 6-polar-bear.png]



5
[Image: 5-snowflakes.png]



6
[Image: 4-house.png]



7
[Image: 3-wreath.png]



8
[Image: 2-snowman.png]



9
[Image: 12-cheese.png]



10
[Image: sparkles.png]



11
[Image: 10-ice-cubes.png]



12
[Image: 1-firework.png]
]]> - One per player
- You may choose what character you want the gift to apply to after you open the gift
- This is not first-come, first-serve. Everyone can pick a gift, and there's no limit to the number of players that can choose a specific gift
- This will end on December 31 at 11:59 PM CST



1
[Image: 9-fireplace.png]



2
[Image: 8-cold.png]



3
[Image: 7-toque.png]



4
[Image: 6-polar-bear.png]



5
[Image: 5-snowflakes.png]



6
[Image: 4-house.png]



7
[Image: 3-wreath.png]



8
[Image: 2-snowman.png]



9
[Image: 12-cheese.png]



10
[Image: sparkles.png]



11
[Image: 10-ice-cubes.png]



12
[Image: 1-firework.png]
]]> <![CDATA[there's a bad moon on the rise; RESULTS]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=32014 Thu, 06 Nov 2025 20:46:14 -0500 Carnage]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=32014


lord, I fashion dark gods too;


They find the light, in the end.
They are spat back out into Beqanna’s meadows and rivers, but they are not the same creatures who went in. They have been drug to this, had their bodies stripped from their bones, had them remade in a murky underwater world. They are marked things, physically and emotionally.
And he is, finally, done with them.

He turns the playthings loose back into Beqanna, and for now, he is gone.

OOC:
WHOO congrats thank you all <3
Everyone who replied before/on 11/6 is awarded four spaces (genetic) of traits, to be broken up how you wish (e.g. one 4 space trait or four 1 space traits, etc.). Or you can use 1-2 spaces and gift the rest as long as it’s IC. I do ask that the traits in some way reflect your character’s fun little torture journey, because that’s growth babes.
This is in addition to the 0-1 appearance trait you received earlier. Please post all your trait choices in updates.

I’ll message anyone who was unable to post before the deadlines with some options <3


c a r n a g e

]]>


lord, I fashion dark gods too;


They find the light, in the end.
They are spat back out into Beqanna’s meadows and rivers, but they are not the same creatures who went in. They have been drug to this, had their bodies stripped from their bones, had them remade in a murky underwater world. They are marked things, physically and emotionally.
And he is, finally, done with them.

He turns the playthings loose back into Beqanna, and for now, he is gone.

OOC:
WHOO congrats thank you all <3
Everyone who replied before/on 11/6 is awarded four spaces (genetic) of traits, to be broken up how you wish (e.g. one 4 space trait or four 1 space traits, etc.). Or you can use 1-2 spaces and gift the rest as long as it’s IC. I do ask that the traits in some way reflect your character’s fun little torture journey, because that’s growth babes.
This is in addition to the 0-1 appearance trait you received earlier. Please post all your trait choices in updates.

I’ll message anyone who was unable to post before the deadlines with some options <3


c a r n a g e

]]> <![CDATA[the midnight hour is close at hand; ROUND IV]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=32000 Wed, 29 Oct 2025 16:49:16 -0400 Carnage]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=32000


lord, I fashion dark gods too;


He so enjoys an exercise in futility.
He lets them swim until they can swim no more, lets them sink into the murky depths and find their rebuilding. He wonders what they think, on that endless river floor, muscles aching with mud. He can feel snippets of it, their confusion and pain and exhaustion. He should be done with them.
But oh, he is having too much fun!
So he does not spit them back into Beqanna to tell their tales of chains and ferocious, hungry jungles, how the river went on forever. Instead, he pulls them and their reformed bodies into a prison. They are small, the cells, enough room to turn around in and not much more. They are also ill-made, crumbling stone with cracks and easy enough to break through, for he does not want them captive in this way for long – only enough to catch their breath, really. They will find the cells’ weaknesses out soon enough, and break free. Or they won’t, and he will simply let them rot in their own broken stupidity – he doesn’t mind either way.
Because what will they find, when they think themselves free?

A hallway, dimly lit. One end leads to an impassable stone wall, the other, well – they can’t tell, not quite, But they will follow – or they will rot – and when they follow that path, they will find one more game.
He has made for his little lab rats a maze, a twisting, stony thing. A labyrinth, filled with whatever monsters cross his mind (a maybe a minotaur or two – just to stay classic). It is solvable, but it is certainly not easy.
There’s light, at the center. If they find it, Beqanna is waiting.
If they don’t, well – there’s darkness.

He gives them no instructions. They know they’re playing his game, now.
Something in the labyrinth gives a keening, hungry cry. Something click begins an insectile buzzing.
The dark god grins, and waits for the show to start.

OOC:
Trait scrambling results:
Harrowed – Bodach mutated into Dream Entity. Shadow camouflage stays the same. Angel Shifting mutated into Fallen Angel. Glowing stays the same.
Sirin - Wings mutated into Malleable Anatomy. Horn mutated into Water Mimicry.

LAST ROUND! You’re out of the river and in dry land (a stony stall-like enclosure). You must break out via whatever method you want, and weave through the labyrinth towards a beam of light in the center. During the maze, you must encounter at least 1 monster/trap/whatever, though feel free to add more. This can be a classic monster, a hallucination, whatever.
I’d like to have results up by November 5th around 6 pm CST. We know I’m a liar about posts, but results writeups are easier, so please get your replies in by then if possible, or message me if you know you’ll be delayed.

c a r n a g e

]]>


lord, I fashion dark gods too;


He so enjoys an exercise in futility.
He lets them swim until they can swim no more, lets them sink into the murky depths and find their rebuilding. He wonders what they think, on that endless river floor, muscles aching with mud. He can feel snippets of it, their confusion and pain and exhaustion. He should be done with them.
But oh, he is having too much fun!
So he does not spit them back into Beqanna to tell their tales of chains and ferocious, hungry jungles, how the river went on forever. Instead, he pulls them and their reformed bodies into a prison. They are small, the cells, enough room to turn around in and not much more. They are also ill-made, crumbling stone with cracks and easy enough to break through, for he does not want them captive in this way for long – only enough to catch their breath, really. They will find the cells’ weaknesses out soon enough, and break free. Or they won’t, and he will simply let them rot in their own broken stupidity – he doesn’t mind either way.
Because what will they find, when they think themselves free?

A hallway, dimly lit. One end leads to an impassable stone wall, the other, well – they can’t tell, not quite, But they will follow – or they will rot – and when they follow that path, they will find one more game.
He has made for his little lab rats a maze, a twisting, stony thing. A labyrinth, filled with whatever monsters cross his mind (a maybe a minotaur or two – just to stay classic). It is solvable, but it is certainly not easy.
There’s light, at the center. If they find it, Beqanna is waiting.
If they don’t, well – there’s darkness.

He gives them no instructions. They know they’re playing his game, now.
Something in the labyrinth gives a keening, hungry cry. Something click begins an insectile buzzing.
The dark god grins, and waits for the show to start.

OOC:
Trait scrambling results:
Harrowed – Bodach mutated into Dream Entity. Shadow camouflage stays the same. Angel Shifting mutated into Fallen Angel. Glowing stays the same.
Sirin - Wings mutated into Malleable Anatomy. Horn mutated into Water Mimicry.

LAST ROUND! You’re out of the river and in dry land (a stony stall-like enclosure). You must break out via whatever method you want, and weave through the labyrinth towards a beam of light in the center. During the maze, you must encounter at least 1 monster/trap/whatever, though feel free to add more. This can be a classic monster, a hallucination, whatever.
I’d like to have results up by November 5th around 6 pm CST. We know I’m a liar about posts, but results writeups are easier, so please get your replies in by then if possible, or message me if you know you’ll be delayed.

c a r n a g e

]]> <![CDATA[Searching the Mountains]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=31967 Wed, 22 Oct 2025 22:55:09 -0400 Kylan]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=31967 he was the weird one out without traits. So he made the long journey or so it felt to him up to the mountain, he then began trekking to it's summit was that where he was supposed to go? He stopped and looked around as he bent to take a drink from a small stream, his eyes darting as his ears flicked. He was alert for danger or any threat that may happen here.

--

OOC: I am open to any trait of any level, I hope I'm doing this part right. Smile]]> he was the weird one out without traits. So he made the long journey or so it felt to him up to the mountain, he then began trekking to it's summit was that where he was supposed to go? He stopped and looked around as he bent to take a drink from a small stream, his eyes darting as his ears flicked. He was alert for danger or any threat that may happen here.

--

OOC: I am open to any trait of any level, I hope I'm doing this part right. Smile]]> <![CDATA[everybody's waiting for the next surprise; round III]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=31945 Mon, 13 Oct 2025 20:45:09 -0400 Carnage]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=31945


lord, I fashion dark gods too;


He enjoys seeing what they do, when they’re free.
(It’s not really freedom, of course – it’s a pretend sort of autonomy, ushering them through this awful jungle, bloated with life and crafted to take and take and take from them, in every way.)
They move and stumble through the jungle, and one by one, they are consumed. He watches as one of his beastly creations feasts on flesh, vines curl about their legs and lungs and heart, as the leather-winged bats swam pick at whatever they can find. He laughs a little as one is taken apart by ants, enjoying how even some of the smallest creatures in his kingdom can take down these horses he has foisted into this land. Another is consumed by the earth, then one by fire.
One way or another, they end up at the river. Or, their bones do.

He had been a skeleton king, once. Reanimated in his wasteland, a slow knit of bone back to bone after having lain in a facsimile of death for years. It had taken too long for his flesh to regenerate.
He, in his endless kindness, will not make them wait half as long. Skeletons can break too easy.

He appears to them, finally. He stands before them on the other side of the river. He is always a strange thing to behold – almost plain, seeming nothing more than a finely-made stallion the color of storm clouds, the only decoration to him two dark orbs embedded on his chest. But there is something - the way the world seems to bend around him, a creation recognizing its maker. A looming, almost gleeful portent in the wine-dark eyes.
“If you want to be whole again,” he says, his voice amplified, booming through the forest with its promise of restoration, “just swim to me.”
His gaze falls on the river, whose movement stops abruptly. The surface becomes flat, the only movement left the darting of fish and the slow sway of plants as, for the first time, they learn what it is to be still. It has gone from impassable to inviting, the new stillness showing a gentle slope of silt.
(Never mind that you can’t see the bottom.)
“That should do it,” he says, and he waits.

OOC:
Congratulations, you have unlocked one (1) river!
You can now cross to Carnage – so it seems. But as you swim, the river keeps continually expanding – you never seem to get closer to him, but if you try to turn back, the shore seems as far away as Carnage’s side, so you eventually get tired and sink (or start swimming down, or are dragged down – whatever). The good news is, you’re a skeleton so you can’t drown! Once you make it to the bottom, you can walk the bottom surface, and you are slowly ‘remade’ back into your old self from random river materials (e.g. plant weeds become your mane). Your horse can finish morphing from river material golem into their old self in this journey as much as or little as you want.
Once you’re ‘rebuilt’, you’re pulled down into the earth/into blackness. And you wake up in a small (stall sized ish) little prison cell, no long underwater, but no idea where you are. There’s also Carnage’s ‘brand’ (a design of your choice) carved somewhere on your body.

As a reward for making it this far and bringing me so much joy with your wonderful posts:
- If you like, part of the rebuilding process can leave your character with any 0 or 1 space appearance trait. This is genetic and expressed.
- As another part of the rebuilding process, if you would like any expressed or carried traits to be re-rolled for possible upgrade/downgrade/mutation, let me know in an OOC note in your post what you would like rolled.

Round IV will be up no earlier than October 22 around 7 PM CST. likely later, again. I love you all.

If you have any questions feel free to DM me here or on Discord

c a r n a g e

]]>


lord, I fashion dark gods too;


He enjoys seeing what they do, when they’re free.
(It’s not really freedom, of course – it’s a pretend sort of autonomy, ushering them through this awful jungle, bloated with life and crafted to take and take and take from them, in every way.)
They move and stumble through the jungle, and one by one, they are consumed. He watches as one of his beastly creations feasts on flesh, vines curl about their legs and lungs and heart, as the leather-winged bats swam pick at whatever they can find. He laughs a little as one is taken apart by ants, enjoying how even some of the smallest creatures in his kingdom can take down these horses he has foisted into this land. Another is consumed by the earth, then one by fire.
One way or another, they end up at the river. Or, their bones do.

He had been a skeleton king, once. Reanimated in his wasteland, a slow knit of bone back to bone after having lain in a facsimile of death for years. It had taken too long for his flesh to regenerate.
He, in his endless kindness, will not make them wait half as long. Skeletons can break too easy.

He appears to them, finally. He stands before them on the other side of the river. He is always a strange thing to behold – almost plain, seeming nothing more than a finely-made stallion the color of storm clouds, the only decoration to him two dark orbs embedded on his chest. But there is something - the way the world seems to bend around him, a creation recognizing its maker. A looming, almost gleeful portent in the wine-dark eyes.
“If you want to be whole again,” he says, his voice amplified, booming through the forest with its promise of restoration, “just swim to me.”
His gaze falls on the river, whose movement stops abruptly. The surface becomes flat, the only movement left the darting of fish and the slow sway of plants as, for the first time, they learn what it is to be still. It has gone from impassable to inviting, the new stillness showing a gentle slope of silt.
(Never mind that you can’t see the bottom.)
“That should do it,” he says, and he waits.

OOC:
Congratulations, you have unlocked one (1) river!
You can now cross to Carnage – so it seems. But as you swim, the river keeps continually expanding – you never seem to get closer to him, but if you try to turn back, the shore seems as far away as Carnage’s side, so you eventually get tired and sink (or start swimming down, or are dragged down – whatever). The good news is, you’re a skeleton so you can’t drown! Once you make it to the bottom, you can walk the bottom surface, and you are slowly ‘remade’ back into your old self from random river materials (e.g. plant weeds become your mane). Your horse can finish morphing from river material golem into their old self in this journey as much as or little as you want.
Once you’re ‘rebuilt’, you’re pulled down into the earth/into blackness. And you wake up in a small (stall sized ish) little prison cell, no long underwater, but no idea where you are. There’s also Carnage’s ‘brand’ (a design of your choice) carved somewhere on your body.

As a reward for making it this far and bringing me so much joy with your wonderful posts:
- If you like, part of the rebuilding process can leave your character with any 0 or 1 space appearance trait. This is genetic and expressed.
- As another part of the rebuilding process, if you would like any expressed or carried traits to be re-rolled for possible upgrade/downgrade/mutation, let me know in an OOC note in your post what you would like rolled.

Round IV will be up no earlier than October 22 around 7 PM CST. likely later, again. I love you all.

If you have any questions feel free to DM me here or on Discord

c a r n a g e

]]> <![CDATA[you'll shake and shudder in surprise; round II]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=31941 Wed, 01 Oct 2025 19:58:26 -0400 Carnage]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=31941


lord, I fashion dark gods too;


They come because they have no option, the small group of them. They are chosen at random, by the happenstance of magic. One by one, they ascend to the mountaintop, their movements mechanical and unchanging, with only the whites of their eyes betraying the truth of the matter.
Usually, this is where he would show himself. Their dark god, here to give them their mission – go to the afterlife, swim to the bottom of the ocean, dig to the center of the earth. But he likes them like this, compelled and confused, and so he does not let them know they are at his whim.
Instead, he opens the door.

Before them the portal appears, small at first, then widening into a gaping maw. Inside, there are glimpses of green and the scent of lush vegetation.
Once more, he moves them, his puppets, and walks them from this realm into the next, each into their own separate parcel – let them start alone, and discover the world and all its wonders.
And oh, what a world it is!

Carnage usually prefers a wasteland. He has always enjoyed salted earth, a bare and lifeless expanse. It was the private home he once made for himself, a place he sometimes revisits. He has never been one to revel in the fecundity of nature (except his own, of course).
But there’s a time for everything.
So he has built them a jungle, trees dampening the light, the ground. The trees rustle with unseen creatures, and strange insects trill. Flowers bloom and release their intoxicating scents, their perfume weaving amongst the scent of greenery and decay. It is a place very much full of life.
He has added his own spin to it, of course. He must keep it interesting.
But he thinks he’ll let them discover that for themselves.
And so, he cuts their puppet strings, gives their bodies back, and shuts the door behind them.

OOC:
Welcome to the Jungle That Wants Your Skin! Carnage has created a beautiful jungle full of strange flora and fauna, and pretty much every single thing wants to hurt you and strip you to the bone. Write your characters path through the jungle, where they must encounter something (or many somethings – plant, animal, insect, whatever) that ends up stripping them to a skeleton. How that happens is up to you – acid, mauling, magic, whatever. As a skeleton, you are still sentient, and have all your basic senses, because magic.
End with your skeleton character finding a huge, impassable river.

Round III will go up no earlier than October 10th around 6pm CST. Will probably be a day or two later than that because I am horrible.
If you have any questions, message me here or on Discord!

c a r n a g e

]]>


lord, I fashion dark gods too;


They come because they have no option, the small group of them. They are chosen at random, by the happenstance of magic. One by one, they ascend to the mountaintop, their movements mechanical and unchanging, with only the whites of their eyes betraying the truth of the matter.
Usually, this is where he would show himself. Their dark god, here to give them their mission – go to the afterlife, swim to the bottom of the ocean, dig to the center of the earth. But he likes them like this, compelled and confused, and so he does not let them know they are at his whim.
Instead, he opens the door.

Before them the portal appears, small at first, then widening into a gaping maw. Inside, there are glimpses of green and the scent of lush vegetation.
Once more, he moves them, his puppets, and walks them from this realm into the next, each into their own separate parcel – let them start alone, and discover the world and all its wonders.
And oh, what a world it is!

Carnage usually prefers a wasteland. He has always enjoyed salted earth, a bare and lifeless expanse. It was the private home he once made for himself, a place he sometimes revisits. He has never been one to revel in the fecundity of nature (except his own, of course).
But there’s a time for everything.
So he has built them a jungle, trees dampening the light, the ground. The trees rustle with unseen creatures, and strange insects trill. Flowers bloom and release their intoxicating scents, their perfume weaving amongst the scent of greenery and decay. It is a place very much full of life.
He has added his own spin to it, of course. He must keep it interesting.
But he thinks he’ll let them discover that for themselves.
And so, he cuts their puppet strings, gives their bodies back, and shuts the door behind them.

OOC:
Welcome to the Jungle That Wants Your Skin! Carnage has created a beautiful jungle full of strange flora and fauna, and pretty much every single thing wants to hurt you and strip you to the bone. Write your characters path through the jungle, where they must encounter something (or many somethings – plant, animal, insect, whatever) that ends up stripping them to a skeleton. How that happens is up to you – acid, mauling, magic, whatever. As a skeleton, you are still sentient, and have all your basic senses, because magic.
End with your skeleton character finding a huge, impassable river.

Round III will go up no earlier than October 10th around 6pm CST. Will probably be a day or two later than that because I am horrible.
If you have any questions, message me here or on Discord!

c a r n a g e

]]> <![CDATA[I'm on the wrong side of Heaven]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=31937 Wed, 24 Sep 2025 16:41:48 -0400 Warship]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=31937 .container {position: relative;z-index: 1;width: 455px; /*frame width*/ padding: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; background: #000202; /*background color*/border: 2px solid #000; box-shadow: 0px 0px 30px #800000; border-radius: 15px; /*border size, style, and color*/}.container p {margin: 0;}.image {border: 1px solid #000; /*image border size, style, and color*/} .message {text-align: justify;font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; /*message font size and face*/padding: 15px 0; padding-bottom: 0px; color: #fff; /*message font color*/}.name {text-align: center;font: 30px 'Times New Roman', serif; /*name font size and face*/color: #800000; /*message font color*/padding: 0;}.quote {text-align: center;font: 14px 'Times New Roman', serif; /*quote font size and face*/font-style: italic;color: #800000; /*quote font color*/padding: 0;}

i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell


Death is much too idle, and he has never been one for idleness. Idle hands are the devils playground, a fact he knows all too well. How could he die, while his very reason for breathing still lives? Not his children. They were all gone now, either dead or disappeared into that void they all seem to fall victim to. Not his lovers. The ones he had truly loved had left and broke his heart long ago. He barely remembers their faces, though memories of sweat-slicked skin and illicit whispers in the shadows still caused a shiver down his spine. Not his parents, either, though he assumed his father still lurked in the shadows somewhere. His father gave a heart, whereas Warship intends to give a soul.

No, his reason for breathing was his kingdom. The Chamber. She has always held his heart in a vice-like grip, taking and taking and rarely giving him anything in return. Perhaps he was a glutton for punishment, but he always gave, even when pouring from an empty cup. There was always a drop left to give, even if it meant his demise. He was happy to either die in her service, or live forever serving her. Perhaps such a thing is a foolish wish, but he knows no other way. He is nothing if not loyal, a servant to the bitter end.

Someone once told him to come home with his shield, or come home on it. He always assumed he would come home on it, though that never happened.

But, the thought of a simple death does piss him off. He is not made for drifting off to sleep and waking up on the other side. That is much too peaceful of a death for a warrior who has lived by his sword and his shield. Nor does he imagine himself dropping to his knees suddenly, his heart simply giving up. His heart may be made of muscle and blood, but its been forged in iron and tempered too. In fact, he doesn't imagine himself dying at all, so long as there is a kingdom that needs him. He has been faithful since the moment his eyes opened, why not make it for eternity? True, The Chamber has known many faithful servants throughout the years, but he likes to think of himself as one of the greatest. Not because of deeds or titles, but by being ever-ready to serve.

With those thoughts in mind, and a glance upwards, he begins ascending. The storms builds, and thunder is the music to which he marches. He doesn't stop, despite the screaming in his muscles and the burning in his lungs. Slow, but steady. More than once he goes to his knees on the rocks, but even that doesn't slow him. Blood spilt for the Chamber, its not the first time and hopefully not the last. Salty sweat runs into his busted knees, into his eyes clouding his vision, but onward and upward he goes. Pain is only metaphorical, anyways.

Finally, he reaches the summit. The thin air up here makes breathing harder, and the lining of his nostrils shine violently pink as the blood courses through his body. Along his heaving sides his ribs are pushed out with every fought-for breath, but his face shows nothing but resolution. Rain begins in earnest as the storm grows closer, and steam rises from his lathered hide. There isn't another living soul around, but the thin air is alive with magic. It courses across his skin, caresses and winds around his legs like a cat with its master. "My whole life, it has been dedicated to servitude. Never asking for myself, only giving. I've done so happily. The time has come for me to ask...ask that I can serve forever, into infinity. Never dying. Never faltering. Always." he says to no one and everyone all at once. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that its the right thing to do, though he can't explain why. There are no ears around, at least not ears that he can see. Suddenly, the air changes. The magic whirls around him, and in that moment he can feel every LIFE that has ever been given to The Chamber. There are hundreds of them, and in those hundreds of lives there are thousands of years. Some died young, others died of old age, but all died as servants of The Chamber. The sky crackles and splits as lightning breaks free, and before he has a chance to move, the biggest strike hits him in the chest. He is dead before he hits the rocky ground.

He is only dead for a moment, though dead maybe isn't the word. Reborn. All of those lives, concentrated into a bolt of deadly electricity, right to the chest. It hits him like a freight train, but the pain is brief. His golden eyes fly open and he scrambles to his feet as a renewed sense of self and belonging flare along his very bones. He knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is immortal now, with the thousands of combined years of Chamberlings etched onto his heart. Now he can serve forever, or until the world splits at the seams and tosses them all into the cosmos. Forever is a long time, but he would give forever and a day if his kingdom asked it of him.

The storm reaches its pinnacle before he begins his descent. Though he can feel the immortality under his skin, he has no desire to test its limits by falling off a cliff. It would be a cool story he supposes, but Warship is not the story telling type. While the last of the thunder grumbles, he picks his way down the mountain. The cuts to his knees have healed, and the silvery scars he once wore so proudly are replaced by unmarked hair. He doesn't mind though. He doesn't need scars to prove his mettle. He has proven it time and time again through deed and duty. As his hooves meet the grass once more, he turns his head back towards the Chamber. Death has been his greatest enemy and now, he has defeated her. There is nothing to stand between him and life well served anymore.




warship




Warship is auto-questing for immortality
Word count - 1052

Return to Chamber, answering Shadowmeres call
Word count - 487

ooc- If I did anything wrong, please lmk! This is my first time doing an auto quest Smile]]> .container {position: relative;z-index: 1;width: 455px; /*frame width*/ padding: 10px; padding-bottom: 0px; background: #000202; /*background color*/border: 2px solid #000; box-shadow: 0px 0px 30px #800000; border-radius: 15px; /*border size, style, and color*/}.container p {margin: 0;}.image {border: 1px solid #000; /*image border size, style, and color*/} .message {text-align: justify;font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; /*message font size and face*/padding: 15px 0; padding-bottom: 0px; color: #fff; /*message font color*/}.name {text-align: center;font: 30px 'Times New Roman', serif; /*name font size and face*/color: #800000; /*message font color*/padding: 0;}.quote {text-align: center;font: 14px 'Times New Roman', serif; /*quote font size and face*/font-style: italic;color: #800000; /*quote font color*/padding: 0;}

i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell


Death is much too idle, and he has never been one for idleness. Idle hands are the devils playground, a fact he knows all too well. How could he die, while his very reason for breathing still lives? Not his children. They were all gone now, either dead or disappeared into that void they all seem to fall victim to. Not his lovers. The ones he had truly loved had left and broke his heart long ago. He barely remembers their faces, though memories of sweat-slicked skin and illicit whispers in the shadows still caused a shiver down his spine. Not his parents, either, though he assumed his father still lurked in the shadows somewhere. His father gave a heart, whereas Warship intends to give a soul.

No, his reason for breathing was his kingdom. The Chamber. She has always held his heart in a vice-like grip, taking and taking and rarely giving him anything in return. Perhaps he was a glutton for punishment, but he always gave, even when pouring from an empty cup. There was always a drop left to give, even if it meant his demise. He was happy to either die in her service, or live forever serving her. Perhaps such a thing is a foolish wish, but he knows no other way. He is nothing if not loyal, a servant to the bitter end.

Someone once told him to come home with his shield, or come home on it. He always assumed he would come home on it, though that never happened.

But, the thought of a simple death does piss him off. He is not made for drifting off to sleep and waking up on the other side. That is much too peaceful of a death for a warrior who has lived by his sword and his shield. Nor does he imagine himself dropping to his knees suddenly, his heart simply giving up. His heart may be made of muscle and blood, but its been forged in iron and tempered too. In fact, he doesn't imagine himself dying at all, so long as there is a kingdom that needs him. He has been faithful since the moment his eyes opened, why not make it for eternity? True, The Chamber has known many faithful servants throughout the years, but he likes to think of himself as one of the greatest. Not because of deeds or titles, but by being ever-ready to serve.

With those thoughts in mind, and a glance upwards, he begins ascending. The storms builds, and thunder is the music to which he marches. He doesn't stop, despite the screaming in his muscles and the burning in his lungs. Slow, but steady. More than once he goes to his knees on the rocks, but even that doesn't slow him. Blood spilt for the Chamber, its not the first time and hopefully not the last. Salty sweat runs into his busted knees, into his eyes clouding his vision, but onward and upward he goes. Pain is only metaphorical, anyways.

Finally, he reaches the summit. The thin air up here makes breathing harder, and the lining of his nostrils shine violently pink as the blood courses through his body. Along his heaving sides his ribs are pushed out with every fought-for breath, but his face shows nothing but resolution. Rain begins in earnest as the storm grows closer, and steam rises from his lathered hide. There isn't another living soul around, but the thin air is alive with magic. It courses across his skin, caresses and winds around his legs like a cat with its master. "My whole life, it has been dedicated to servitude. Never asking for myself, only giving. I've done so happily. The time has come for me to ask...ask that I can serve forever, into infinity. Never dying. Never faltering. Always." he says to no one and everyone all at once. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that its the right thing to do, though he can't explain why. There are no ears around, at least not ears that he can see. Suddenly, the air changes. The magic whirls around him, and in that moment he can feel every LIFE that has ever been given to The Chamber. There are hundreds of them, and in those hundreds of lives there are thousands of years. Some died young, others died of old age, but all died as servants of The Chamber. The sky crackles and splits as lightning breaks free, and before he has a chance to move, the biggest strike hits him in the chest. He is dead before he hits the rocky ground.

He is only dead for a moment, though dead maybe isn't the word. Reborn. All of those lives, concentrated into a bolt of deadly electricity, right to the chest. It hits him like a freight train, but the pain is brief. His golden eyes fly open and he scrambles to his feet as a renewed sense of self and belonging flare along his very bones. He knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is immortal now, with the thousands of combined years of Chamberlings etched onto his heart. Now he can serve forever, or until the world splits at the seams and tosses them all into the cosmos. Forever is a long time, but he would give forever and a day if his kingdom asked it of him.

The storm reaches its pinnacle before he begins his descent. Though he can feel the immortality under his skin, he has no desire to test its limits by falling off a cliff. It would be a cool story he supposes, but Warship is not the story telling type. While the last of the thunder grumbles, he picks his way down the mountain. The cuts to his knees have healed, and the silvery scars he once wore so proudly are replaced by unmarked hair. He doesn't mind though. He doesn't need scars to prove his mettle. He has proven it time and time again through deed and duty. As his hooves meet the grass once more, he turns his head back towards the Chamber. Death has been his greatest enemy and now, he has defeated her. There is nothing to stand between him and life well served anymore.




warship




Warship is auto-questing for immortality
Word count - 1052

Return to Chamber, answering Shadowmeres call
Word count - 487

ooc- If I did anything wrong, please lmk! This is my first time doing an auto quest Smile]]> <![CDATA[the only way to begin is by beginning;]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=31932 Sun, 21 Sep 2025 19:06:29 -0400 Carnage]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=31932


lord, I fashion dark gods too;


He tires of the quiet.
He is used to existing in lulls, of course – he has transgressed strange vacuums of space, where time seemed to move in ways his mind could hardly comprehend – but like he does with all things, he grows bored. And a bored god mustn’t stay bored long, lest he become terrible.
And so, he creates.
He builds, in one of these pocket universes, where madness becomes lucidity and vice versa, a playground.
Not for him, of course. No, he needs playthings.

And so he comes back to Beqanna, back on her quiet shores. He is bright and terrible, wine-dark eyes shining, for he can feel boredom receding.
Usually, he calls. He likes the formality of it, the summoning, their idiocy as they obey him – so bored or willing to die for him. But he feels more wicked, today. More ready to take than to offer anything.

There is a fungus, in the tropics. It infects ants, drives them from the safety of their nests out to the forest floor. The fungus drives the ants to bite down on the vein of a leaf, where they stay until, and even after, death.
He is the fungus, today, infecting them and driving their bodies from their nests of trees and meadows, up to the mountain. They will march, without knowing why – only knowing they are driven, driven, driven – to the top of the mountain.
And there, they will play.

OOC:
GOOD OL’ FASHIONED CARNAGE TORTURE QUEST LET’S GO
- Carnage is basically forcing you to the top of the mountain. How you interpret that is up to you. The compulsion to reach the top of the mountain will cease once you’re there, but you’re essentially rooted to the spot (read up on Ophiocordyceps unilateralis. It’s fucked up. Unrelated, I’m reading a cool mushroom book right now.)
- You’re aware of the others, but interaction is up to you.
- This isn’t an elimination quest, but you may withdraw at any time, just let me know. Failure to respond without notifying me may result in a defect.
- Per Carnage quest rules, defects/emotional and physical scarring/trait scrambling may occur.
- I plan to post round two no earlier than 6pm CST Sunday September 28. All entries are accepted until round two goes up.
- If you have any other questions, message me here or on Discord!

c a r n a g e

]]>


lord, I fashion dark gods too;


He tires of the quiet.
He is used to existing in lulls, of course – he has transgressed strange vacuums of space, where time seemed to move in ways his mind could hardly comprehend – but like he does with all things, he grows bored. And a bored god mustn’t stay bored long, lest he become terrible.
And so, he creates.
He builds, in one of these pocket universes, where madness becomes lucidity and vice versa, a playground.
Not for him, of course. No, he needs playthings.

And so he comes back to Beqanna, back on her quiet shores. He is bright and terrible, wine-dark eyes shining, for he can feel boredom receding.
Usually, he calls. He likes the formality of it, the summoning, their idiocy as they obey him – so bored or willing to die for him. But he feels more wicked, today. More ready to take than to offer anything.

There is a fungus, in the tropics. It infects ants, drives them from the safety of their nests out to the forest floor. The fungus drives the ants to bite down on the vein of a leaf, where they stay until, and even after, death.
He is the fungus, today, infecting them and driving their bodies from their nests of trees and meadows, up to the mountain. They will march, without knowing why – only knowing they are driven, driven, driven – to the top of the mountain.
And there, they will play.

OOC:
GOOD OL’ FASHIONED CARNAGE TORTURE QUEST LET’S GO
- Carnage is basically forcing you to the top of the mountain. How you interpret that is up to you. The compulsion to reach the top of the mountain will cease once you’re there, but you’re essentially rooted to the spot (read up on Ophiocordyceps unilateralis. It’s fucked up. Unrelated, I’m reading a cool mushroom book right now.)
- You’re aware of the others, but interaction is up to you.
- This isn’t an elimination quest, but you may withdraw at any time, just let me know. Failure to respond without notifying me may result in a defect.
- Per Carnage quest rules, defects/emotional and physical scarring/trait scrambling may occur.
- I plan to post round two no earlier than 6pm CST Sunday September 28. All entries are accepted until round two goes up.
- If you have any other questions, message me here or on Discord!

c a r n a g e

]]> <![CDATA[all I ever wanted was the world; wynters and luvi]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=31931 Fri, 19 Sep 2025 22:42:50 -0400 Ravin]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=31931
“I’m sure we’ll be out of the trees soon,” he says to his companions, 
“The ground’s definitely getting steeper too.”

The young stallion has never climbed the Mountain before, but this seems like a good start. As the three of them stole farther and farther away from the Gates, the type of tree had changed, shifting from bare branched deciduous woods to evergreen conifers. As the ground grows steepier and rockier, the trees become smaller, revealing a view of the looming Mountain.

“Do you think we have to get to like…the actual top? Or is like being close enough to feel a mountain-y vibe enough?” Ravin isn’t feeling especially mountainous yet, but he glances between his friend   and then his sister, brows raised.

ooh: sorry this took so long! I kept it kinda vague so if you wanted them to be a little older we can, or we can keep hem the same age - I'm good either way Smile]]>
“I’m sure we’ll be out of the trees soon,” he says to his companions, 
“The ground’s definitely getting steeper too.”

The young stallion has never climbed the Mountain before, but this seems like a good start. As the three of them stole farther and farther away from the Gates, the type of tree had changed, shifting from bare branched deciduous woods to evergreen conifers. As the ground grows steepier and rockier, the trees become smaller, revealing a view of the looming Mountain.

“Do you think we have to get to like…the actual top? Or is like being close enough to feel a mountain-y vibe enough?” Ravin isn’t feeling especially mountainous yet, but he glances between his friend   and then his sister, brows raised.

ooh: sorry this took so long! I kept it kinda vague so if you wanted them to be a little older we can, or we can keep hem the same age - I'm good either way Smile]]> <![CDATA[I'm the one the devil is afraid of.]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=31883 Sun, 16 Mar 2025 04:08:38 -0400 Devil's Curse]]> https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=31883
She was starting to get worried she wasn't going to make it to the peak of the mountain, if she would run out of usable path before hand when she spotted the small clearing she was aiming for. She grinned, as she all but jumped the last part of the rocky path and now she was in the clearing.

Up so high it was cold, she shivered slightly as her breath came out as white mist. The few rays of sunlight hitting her coat revealed the hint of red that tinted the black shades and touching the crimson colour of her horn.
She wasn't sure what she was suppose to do now, other than shouting out hello, i'm come for a quest which to be honest sounded silly in her own head.

Realising she probably needed to say something though she took a deep breath before speaking I apologies if i say the wrong thing, but i'm seeking a quest that may grant me the power of my grandmother, Fire Manipulation. Yer coz saying that out loud at her normal voice volume didn't sound crazy in her mind. As she waited, hoping and praying something would answer her.

(Seeking fire manipulation which is a 4 space trait, she currently doesn't have any traits.)]]>
She was starting to get worried she wasn't going to make it to the peak of the mountain, if she would run out of usable path before hand when she spotted the small clearing she was aiming for. She grinned, as she all but jumped the last part of the rocky path and now she was in the clearing.

Up so high it was cold, she shivered slightly as her breath came out as white mist. The few rays of sunlight hitting her coat revealed the hint of red that tinted the black shades and touching the crimson colour of her horn.
She wasn't sure what she was suppose to do now, other than shouting out hello, i'm come for a quest which to be honest sounded silly in her own head.

Realising she probably needed to say something though she took a deep breath before speaking I apologies if i say the wrong thing, but i'm seeking a quest that may grant me the power of my grandmother, Fire Manipulation. Yer coz saying that out loud at her normal voice volume didn't sound crazy in her mind. As she waited, hoping and praying something would answer her.

(Seeking fire manipulation which is a 4 space trait, she currently doesn't have any traits.)]]>