Starts: 12/17/25 @ 12:00 AM EST Ends: 12/22/25 @ 11:59 PM EST
For centuries, the cerynei thrived in a land far away from Kawani, the forests and valleys teeming with life of lush vegetation and prosperous herds of deer-like soquili. However, over time, the lands began to dry out and become prone to frequent wildfires. Sixteen years ago, the cerynei came to Kawani after a particularly large wildfire swept across their homelands and rendering it nearly uninhabitable, forcing them to find a new home. Since then, the cerynei breed began to thrive once more, increasing in number and integrating back into the general soquili population. It was a new era of prosperity...
... but not all cerynei had been willing to leave. A few cerynei stayed behind after the Prince led the mass exodus to Kawani, holding on to hope that their ravaged homelands still had a chance to recover. They'd lived there for too long to leave it behind, unable to let go of the legacy they'd built.
In this RP contest, I'd like you to write me a story about a cerynei who stayed behind. Why did they stay? What struggles did they face? Did they regret it or were they able to find some semblance of a normal life?
The cerynei you write about does not have to be based on any of the prizes, but can be if you wish. Your entry is not required to be used in canon RP if you win a prize. If you win a prize elsewhere or wish to withdraw your entry for any reason, please spoiler or cross out your entry instead of deleting it. Please keep your entry limited to 750 words or less. I will choose first, second, and third place winners. The remaining prizes will be raffled off between entrants! Because there is a raffled segment to the contest, staff who are eligible to win event freebies may enter, but cannot win the judged portion. You must still write out an entry even if it will not be judged.
You can only win one freebie soquili and one freebie familiar during the event. You may co-own a Soquili prize, but the prize will count as both your and your co-owner's Soquili freebie for the event. You may gift a specific person your prize, but the prize will count as both your and the other person's Soquili or Familiar freebie for the event. You can only win one prize from this game. You may edit your post up until the game closes. Proxies are not allowed for this game, sorry! Late entries will not be accepted. No exceptions! Deleting posts will result in disqualification from the game. Staff may enter but cannot win in the judged portion of the game. All other usual Soquili rules apply. Feel free to PM me or @ me in #ask-the-staff on Discord if there are any questions!
Posted: Mon Dec 01, 2025 8:27 am
Nefarious Muse (Won a soquili freebie) Cheyriddle4 Nori Ishida Juliette06 Ruriska Ebonrune Mysteriana (Won a soquili freebie) Rita Zyon Mewsings of An Angel (Won a soquili freebie) Lavenadel tefla o-Elixir-o Nyx Queen of Darkness Summer Raaven catmagick Avid_RPer18
Entry: The fires still roared in the Natural Buck Cerynei's Mind, or did it? Heat rushed from every side, alone and separated from everyone else known, It was a maze of flames and it roared and crackled as it consumed the trees. The fire seared at his fir, heated up the tips of his antlers and it felt so real and for a moment he was truly afraid. Then he woke up from his nightmare with a start, his head popping up and his mane laying long the tines of his antlers. He could swear he could still smell the smoke as his eyes cleared into awakening. It was a dream.. A bad one.. Back then, when the fires raged many left, many felts nothing would be the same again. This one however shared the same hope that the Prince did, That through fire, new life would be born. Their land would recover, he just knew it! But if everyone left, who would care for their lands and foster it into a new age? No matter how few there are that stayed, he will never leave his home, it is theirs to care for, his to foster into living. He saw the fire as a tragedy but at the same time, does fire not forge things into a better form if crafted right? All the minerals now in the soil, it is only a matter of time. His plan was to find seeds, find ways to help the place recover, no matter how long it took, no matter if he was alone he would help replant and create a future for all of his kind. This is Home! Life may not be normal for now, and finding food and shelter may be trying, but it was worth it to save his home. Why he stayed, his love of his home keeps him tied to these ashes of memory.
Posted: Thu Dec 18, 2025 8:33 am
Only ash remains... Username: Cheyriddle4 Preference List: 5,9,1,4,8,10,3,6,2
Entry:The day was supposed to be like any other. Nobody could have foreseen the fire breaking out. The panic that tainted the very air as both humans and cernyei tried to flee from the ever-increasing threat that the fire posed. It started small like any fire does. A lantern tipping over near some hay catching alight. The smoke being a signal that something was wrong. Yet by the time someone noticed it was already growing and traveling fast. The mare tried to stop the flames. Taking her cloak and trying to stamp the flames out but glancing around she noticed it was futile. With the breeze picking up embers and keeping the fire traveling. It was dangerous to still be in the middle as the flames grow taller. She grabs the cloak and tries to do the next best thing. Help others try to get out of the immediate area. Get to water.. Something to help out the panic screams.
Running she is about to pass by a aflame home when she hears a shrill cry. A young foal was trying to get out from a fallen beam. The shelter looks like it could fall any moment. Without much thought she makes her way over and tries to move the beam.. With a few determined kicks the foal is able to get out from under the beam and she urges it to run. Flames burst from above as the roof starts to collapse and she barely makes it out without getting caught under the rubble. " That was too close."
Pressing onward she makes sure the foal gets to safety and searches for those that are the ones to lead the people to safety and find out what the next course of action will be.. Something has to be done about the fire. Even though she can tell she has some burns.. Others need their help and she would be damned if she didn't try to answer that call.
The fire raged despite their best efforts for quite some time but eventually with a brush of luck the winds died down and with a lot of water they were able to squash the flames. The devastation that befell the area was soul wretching but with time surely it will come forth with new life.. Yet a pang of sadness fills her heart at the sight. Yet there is much work to be done.
Cheyriddle4
Shameless Kitten
Online
Nori Ishida
Offline
Posted: Thu Dec 18, 2025 3:37 pm
Only ash remains... Username: Nori Ishida Preference List: 1, 8, 2, 4, 5, 6, 3, 9, 10
Entry: Though the trees were now bare, the stallion still had the habit of keeping to the woods at night, or what was left of them. The fires had burned long and hot, but this forest was ancient. Many of the trees were centuries old, thick and solid. The fires had taken all life out of them, but their skeletal remains still stood, tall and looming. He took comfort in the closeness of their carcasses.
At the sound of rustling behind him, The Burned Stallion turned his good eye to look towards a pale mare curled up on the ground. The corners of his mouth turned upwards ever so slightly as his mate stood and turned her glowing eyes towards him, a more obvious smile gracing her soft features. Try as he might to return her smile, it was harder to do as each day passed. Her eyes had not always been full of fire, as they were now. Though she still retained most of her vision, her eyes had been permanently damaged by the long-burning flames of the Great Fire, and he was the one who had convinced her to stay. His own wound and loss of his left eye were nowhere near the payment he felt he owed for endangering the lives of his clan, all of whom had stayed to follow him.
His clan were the Tree Tenders, steeped in knowledge of the forests passed down through generations of arborists. They knew all the secrets and cycles of the Cerynei woods. The Burned Stallion was the leader of the Tree Tenders clan, and when the fires came, they all looked to him for guidance. He recalled stories his great-great grandfather had told him of other Great Fires in the past. Though the wildfires cause catastrophic destruction, wiping out entire grazing fields and razing young forests to the ground, there is always rebirth after the flames subside. Though it was true that the Great Fire sixteen years ago was the worst in Cerynei history, The Burned Stallion knew the fire was necessary. The pines that thrive in the Cerynei lands need fire in order to seed the next generation. The extreme heat causes the seed pods to burst, scattering seeds to sow the next great forest. The seeds lay dormant in the ground as the ashes redeposit vital nutrients back into the soil, creating a rich substrate for new growth. He knew the forests would survive the fire in the end, he promised them it would.
The Burned Stallion knew it could be years of living in survival mode before the forest was mature and lush again, but it had already taken much longer than he expected. New growth had begun in tucked away canyons and valleys, places that were initially more protected from the flames. The fire eventually found every nook and cranny, but some places were burned for shorter periods of time, so had recovered quicker. But it was not enough. The trees that populated the vast forests the Cerynei called home had still not started to grow. He and his mate scoured the lands daily, searching for some sign of recovery, and other scouting parties spread far and wide in search of the same. He hoped that when they reconvened later today, somebody would have good news.
As the fiery-eyed mare approached him, she nudged the side of his neck and sighed. “Don’t frown, my love. Today will be a good day.” All the separate scouting parties were meeting today, at the heart of the Cerynei lands. At the edge of this forest was a sizeable plain that bordered the Home Valley, where his clan would meet today. One last stretch of land left to search, one last chance for hope for his people. His stomach was in knots as they started off through the skeletal trees.
Hours later, the trees began to thin, the sun had risen high in the sky, and The Burned Stallion’s brow was furrowed with anxiety. As the charred trunks of the old forest dwindled and disappeared, the pair of Cerynei suddenly stopped dead in their tracks. The Burned Stallion’s jaw dropped as he gazed open-mouthed upon an infant grove of long-leaf pines. He turned his good eye to look at his mate, who beamed back at him, tears silently falling from her eyes. Their wait was over, the forest was returning. He could bring hope back to his clan, and perhaps the Cerynei who had left could finally come home.
A royal’s duty is to her people. This had been the first lesson Sha’zadi had learned, when she was barely out of her basket. There had been other lessons along the way, of course, but in the end, this was the one that mattered the most; this was the one that would define her life.
When her brother The Prince left the burned lands and took those who wished to leave with him, Sha’zadi…remained. The Cerynei were not a homogenous bloc - not everyone wished to return to a land they had never seen and claim that it was their rightful place. Some were frightened, and convinced that there would be no peace in the ancient lands, either from the fires that had sent them there, or from the current residents of the land who may not be so welcoming.
So The Prince left, and The Princess…remained. Her duty was to her people, and her people - were here, not in some far-off land none of them had ever even seen. She did what she could; if her duty was to her people, then she would do what she could to keep them alive.
The fires…persisted, as much the Cerynei did. They became nomadic, traveling in chaotic zig-zags throughout their homeland. In areas where the fire had come and gone, they found fertile earth, waiting to be tended. So they tended it, as best they could, doing their best to revive the land. They collected seeds whenever they found them, planted and cared for them, sometimes surprised at what came of them - sometimes what they thought would grow a tree instead created pumpkins or flowers.
The point was that things - surprising, strange, sometimes inedible, sometimes toxic things - did grow. Yes, the fires persisted, but so did they. They persevered. They were able to create - maintain - some semblance of normalcy. They were few, but they were proud, and they were battle-tested.
They were forged in the fires that would have destroyed them, and they had grown stronger for it.
Sha’zadi often thinks of her brother, and of the rest of their herd. She hopes they’re well, she hopes they are safe and strong, and she hopes - someday, somehow - to be reunited with them. But in the meantime, she remains as focused and as driven as ever: a royal’s duty is to her people, no matter the personal cost, and Sha’zadi believes that like the forests burned and regrown, their full herd will come back, stronger and more beautiful than ever - if they can just hold on long enough to see that day come.
This had been a lesson learned early on, when she was still young, legs too young and heart too trusting. Fire was the alarm call of ravens in the distance and the sharp scent of smoke. It was moving forward, seeking safety, hoping the ever hungry beast wasn’t faster than you.
And when it was] faster than you, fire was all-consuming. Fire was heat and suffocation, lungs burning and fur crackling; it was confusion and panic. It was pain. The worst kind.
The aftermath was scorched earth, hunger, indistinguishable corpses. It was stumbling across hot, blackened earth, chest too clogged with smoke to even call out the name of the person you were missing. It was family and friends torn away, one after the other.
And yet, she’d stayed.
When they’d left, she’d stayed behind.
Because fire was also growth; it was little green shoots defiantly poking out of the ashes.
And she believed she could also be those shoots. Growing even after what seemed to be complete destruction.
So she stayed and the fire changed her.
She grew to understand what fire was and how it burned. She discovered how to run from it, the best way to escape from the flickering flames. She grew marvel at its intensity, its power. Fire shaped the land she walked and so she walked with it. Fire burned a place in her heart and grew again, over and over, with each blaze she was stronger, harder.
Those who burned? Weak.
Those who had fled? Pathetic.
She was a survivor.
And after each wildfire, she would still be there, walking through the ashes.
Entry: The fires had been a blessing, the stallion had always thought. Purging the land of the weak, sending them away to another land, leaving the strong behind. Less struggle for resources, though struggle there still was. Struggle to find a mate, though the mares that had remained were tough and hardy, worthy all.
Not that he was looking for a mate. If the right mare--or stallion--proved themselves to him in some way, he would consider their merit, but it wasn't his priority. Instead he patrolled his corner of this dried out land, patiently looking for food to eat. It was ever a struggle, but that was the point. He was strong, and so he would endure. In this way he proved his own worth for any mare--or stallion--who should chance to pass his way. He was not the only one passing judgment, after all. He too was under scrutiny, and he was determined to pass muster. But though he presented himself with the possiblity of attracting a partner without directly looking for him, he also wished to appear strong to the spirits he was sure still roamed the land.
They who had stayed. The worthy of the blessings these spirits might provide. He would prove himself in their eyes to recieve from them whatever blessings they might see fit to bestow upon him. For he was one of the fire cleansed. One who had walked among the flames and survived it. He would doubtless walk through many fires yet before the cleansing was complete. If in the end only one could remain, he was determined that it be him.
Entry: It was our homeland. The wildfires destroyed so much. All that we loved was cinder and ash. A great many of us made it out. A great many of those chose to find a new home and build anew. A few of us chose to restore. It was hard, but hard work has its own rewards. That first winter....it was certainly not easy. But we worked hard to keep our small group alive. There were some that did not make it through that winter but those that did, were all the stronger for it. By the next winter, we had established a few homes, some resources. By the winter after that, we had enough food to last until spring. Then that spring brought rains. So much rain that our food source soon became flooded, then rotted. That's when the fighting began. No one could agree on what to do next as the rains just kept coming. It would rain for a day or two, then let up for a few, then the rains felt like they were coming harder. Spring left many hungry bellies that year. Summer brought with it drought, and with it, another wildfire. Yet again, we survived. But the fighting remained. A blessed rain soon came, this time steady and light. Enough to nourish the land, but not soak it. Rejoicing took place and soon we were growing a fresh crop. Winter was not so harsh that year and the next, and the next after that. We had managed a few new crop sources and soon we were doing more than surviving, we were thriving. Not as well as we would like. The seasons were not as harsh, but we worked hard to keep surviving. The years passed and we rebuilt. Not to our former glory, there were too few of us for that. We struggled, but we were thriving. We still are. We are here and this is our home. . We will continue to build and survive because we belong here.
Entry: The wildfire had swept across her home, wiping out much of the vegetation. The birds had provided an initial warning, she could still recall their shrill cries. Much of the cerynei herd that she grew up alongside with for many years had fled, led by their Prince. A few, like her, had stayed behind, too attached or perhaps too foolish - stuck on an idea that their home would recover.
She was too attached to her home. Each day she passed by the remnants of burnt trees, she thought to the past. The trees had been a refuge, a place to hide when she and her friends played hide and seek. The rippling brook that was nestled in between spruce and aspens, the place where she first fell in love.
She thought back to her love - he was a proud stallion and she adored him. It was difficult now to think of him, how broken he was after the last wildlife ravaged their home. He, who had found who found their foal, their darling child. Such a spitfire, and much too young. To this day, she could not find the strength to visit that part of the woods.
Her love had left with the Prince, unable to stay with her. She wanted to be selfish, to demand him to stay with her. No words came to her that day and each day since, she still found it difficult to speak. She lingered here in these woods, remembering the past and yet unable to move on.
Would she ever move on? Perhaps she was the one who was broken.
Only ash remains... Username: Mewsings of An Angel Preference List: 09, 10, 04, 05, 01, 08,
Entry:
Ash fell like snow the night the Prince left.
Caelith watched the glow on the horizon from the ridge above the old riverbed, his antlers etched black against a sky bruised red and violet. Below him, the land smoldered—tree skeletons clawing upward, the scent of burned sap thick in the air. He could still hear the echoes of hooves, the calls of kin urging one another onward toward Kawani, toward green valleys and promise.
He had not followed.
Caelith told himself it was duty that rooted him here. Someone had to remember the old paths, the sacred springs, the stories bound to every stone and hollow. Someone had to guard what little remained. The elders had once said the land remembered those who loved it. If all the cerynei left, who would call it back to life?
At first, survival felt almost righteous. He rationed water from hidden cisterns, foraged among stubborn scrub, and followed migrating soquili herds when they passed through the scorched valleys. He learned to read the wind for smoke and sleep lightly, always ready to flee another fire. Loneliness pressed in, but it felt like penance—an offering to the spirits of the land.
The land did not heal quickly.
Years passed, marked by droughts and sudden infernos. The forests did not return; they retreated. Streams shrank to bitter trickles. Caelith’s antlers, once polished smooth by bark and vine, grew chipped and cracked. His coat dulled, ash-stained no matter how often he waded into what little water remained.
There were moments—long, hollow moments—when regret gnawed at him. He dreamed of Kawani without ever seeing it: soft grasses underhoof, laughter carried on the breeze, foals born without fear of fire. He wondered if the others spoke his name or if he had already become a ghost story, a cautionary tale whispered to the young.
Once, a cerynei scout returned from Kawani, searching for signs of life. She found Caelith thin but standing, eyes still bright with stubborn purpose. She begged him to leave with her. “You don’t have to be alone anymore,” she said.
He almost went.
But when he looked at the land—the scarred hills, the blackened groves—he felt a quiet certainty settle in his chest. If he left now, the last thread binding the cerynei to this place would snap. He told her to go, to tell the Prince the land still breathed, even if it struggled.
After she left, the silence was worse than before.
Normal life, Caelith learned, did not return the way it once was. Instead, it reshaped itself. He befriended creatures that endured: fire-scarred birds that nested in stone, stubborn grasses that bloomed after ashfall. He learned where new shoots emerged after burns and guided wandering herds to safer grazing when he could. He carved old symbols into standing stones so the stories would not fade entirely.
And slowly—so slowly—it changed.
Rain came one spring, hesitant at first, then steady. Green pierced black soil. Not forests, not yet, but life. Caelith laughed aloud the day he saw a sapling take root near the old riverbed. The sound startled him; he hadn’t heard his own laughter in years.
Did he regret staying? Sometimes. On cold nights when the wind carried distant thunder, he wondered what his life might have been among his people. But regret no longer ruled him.
He had chosen to remain, and in doing so, he had become something else—not a relic of the past, but a keeper of possibility.
If the cerynei ever returned, the land would remember them.
And if they did not, Caelith would remain, antlers raised against the sky, a living promise that even after fire, life could endure.
It was such a funny thing, wasn’t it? A sense of obligation that could save lives, be the passion behind heroes of stories, drive entire kingdoms to war, and be the cause of so-called miracles.
And for others, some could argue it was the thing that would ruin their lives.
Duty. Honor. Sacrifice. It was the stuff of legend. People said that you were meant to feel fantastic for making this kind of sacrifice.
So why did she feel like this? Why did she regret her actions? She did good, she saved so many young ones and her own siblings from the flames. But at the cost of her own body and ability to live a normal life.
She had used her body as a shield when the fires raged across the forest, huddling a group of foals - including her siblings - under her as they made their escape through the fires. Even as the fire lapped at her skin, burning her ankles deeply and back, causing irreparable damage in the future that Unicorn healers would say later would never be able to fully heal. She pressed on until they finally reached the safety of the river. Adrenaline, fear, and most of all that damned word duty driving her forward.
She was a hero in everyone’s eyes except her own.
As the rest of the herd began to heal and rebuild, she was stuck in those same fiery moments, both mentally and physically. She endured months of agonizing healings of her burns that she suffered, even after the Unicorns had done all they could; she was left permanently disabled and disfigured. The children that she had once sacrificed herself to save, now shyed away from her when she approached. Her grotesque appearance scared them as she looked more like a monster from fairytales than their heroic savior. It didn’t help that she walked with a limp, one of her back legs that had suffered the most nerve damage from the flames dragged limply behind her.
Duty allowed her to be a hero. But duty ends once the danger is over. Duty doesn’t help one rebuild; duty doesn’t mean that everyone will appreciate your actions.
She was left angry. Hurt. Confused. Unable to move forward from that day. The fire had taken everything except her life, and in many ways, she wished that it had finished its job. Death would have been better than this. What kind of life was she left with as thanks for her actions? Pain every single day. Being ostracized from her herd. No peace even in her dreams, where she was plagued with nightmares night after night of the fire chasing her endlessly with no escape.
The only thing that kept her living was her siblings. The few people who saw her as the hero that she was and treated her with tender care and respect. They took care of her, bathed her, brought her food when she was too weak to be able to graze for herself, and comforted her throughout her nightmares. They reminded her that they were so thankful to her, and would be here for her.
Duty, pah. That word had become tainted and useless to her. Love though? For her dearest siblings who loved her even in her worst? Yes, she would redo her actions over again a thousand times over.
For them, she would do an even harder task; She would live.
Entry: When the fires had come and scoured the once fertile land barren Savara had become intrigued. In all honesty though, the mare had no right to be. In the wrong hooves fire was the deadliest weapon that could be wielded. All Cerynei knew this lesson. And yet Savara could not help but to be drawn to the glow. Like a moth, well, drawn to a flame, so too was the young mare. She could tame the fire. In her heart she knew that it was entirely possible. When the Prince had led the others in the grand exodus Savara had watched as her mother and father turned their backs on the only land they'd ever known. The pain of the separation lingered in the weeks that followed but the emotional pain gave Savara the push she needed to learn how to attempt to control fire for the greater good. Fire was the great destroyer but at the same time it was also the greatest force for renewal. Places that had been charred before always saw life return.
It perhaps came as no surprise that in order to understand the fire that so consumed her waking thoughts she would have to find and maintain her own private collection of embers. One of the first lessons that Savara learned upon finding and stoking up a fading ember was that one needed to build a system of containment so the flames would simply not get away from her test area. It had been a close call but the damage done to her ego would take longer to heal. The actions that she forgot to employ had nearly caused another catastrophe.
Even as she stamped out errant flames that had sprung up as a result of her experiment the mare knew that continuing to learn all that fire could teach her would mean shutting herself away from those that had remained behind. If even one began to suspect what was going on Savara knew that the outcome would never end in her favor. With that realisation the mare carefully packed up her supply of embers and retreated into the darkest and loneliest locations that made up her home.
When Savara finally reemerged from her self-imposed isolation over a year had passed. The land, although no longer charred, still appeared to struggle to thrive in the aftermath of the largest fire that ever had occurred. The mare gave pause, to allow herself a moment of reflection. Times passage had not been kind to her, nor to the others who had chosen to remain. But deep down inside, an ember of hope had been kindled. Savara could, with absolute certainty, say that she had gleaned all the insights into how fire worked. The fire that was inside blazed brighter than it had before. The knowledge she had gained could provide hope for everyone who had remained but the toughest test was yet to come.
For that test would be convincing her comrades that they need not fear the flames. They should embrace them. Only then, once little fires were set and maintained could the land heal in a more organised fashion. Sure it would take time, Savara explained, but if they could harness the flames, why not make it work for them, instead of against them? Why run away in terror at the first sight of smoke on the horizon?
Savara's gaze travelled from one face to another, imploring silently for someone to take up what she was saying, but time, it's a funny thing. The self-isolation that Savara had endured had one unforeseen drawback: she'd lost her grip on sanity. She truly believed everything that she was saying: but those that were listening, they did not. They bristled visibly at her assumption that more fire was the only solution. Moving as one, everyone turned away from Savara, leaving her alone once more. Deep within the mare the fire transformed into an inferno.
'I guess I'll just have to show them with demonstrations,' she thought with sudden glee, 'then they will have to see that I am right.'
