Cerynei Event: RP contest Entry.
Results: HONORABLE MENTION! x3
- Won a semi-custom Cerynei! (My first Soquili)
My Entry:
Prompt
You are the Prince of the Cerynei, and the others look to you for guidance and leadership, as they did for your father and grandfather, dating back to the beginning of recorded history. It has become more than evident that the land in which the Cerynei have resided in for decades is decaying, becoming unlivable. The does and bucks are starving and growing weaker with sickness, and they all look to you for the answer. How does this make you feel, being the one in charge? What are your intentions? We know that the Cerynei eventually make their way back into the world of their cousins, the regular Soquili, but how did you come to that conclusion?
-PR0X1MA-C3NTAUR1-
Ash.
The Elder tree was ash.
The Prince knelt beneath the twisted form of the revered willow, head bowed in deference. He was unable to look at the tree's gnarled limbs, reaching towards its partner even in death. Charred by the raging fires that swept the land like a ceaseless plague, it was one of many casualties in this war of Nature's pride.
Forsaken eyes the color of pale honey flashed towards the lifeless Forest giant. Did sap still run through its sooty bark, or had it been crystallized by the inferno's wrath?
So much pain. So much sorrow.
He suppressed a violent shudder as he pictured the fawn's broken form, still cradled in it's mothers protective embrace. The pair had taken a wrong turn, and been trapped within the turbulent wildfire's cruel talons. He had known the mother since childhood; her name was Amadahy- Forest Water. He had been there the day her fawn, Awinita, was born.
Too much death; too much sorrow.
He gathered all his strength, drawing from the deepest reserves in the farthest reaches of his cavernous soul. He rose in one single, fluid movement, and turned to face what was to come.
He watched as the herd, hesitant, emerged from the shadows of their former life. He watched their eyes- blue, green, earthen tones- he watched their fear, their timid despair, their halting expectation as they met his stoic gaze. He watched as they fell into the familiar half-circle about the Elder tree, ready for their Leader's instructions.
"My friends..." The land was barren. The land was parched, sterile- it could no longer support life. To stay would be suicide; To leave...? "This land served us well." Now was not the time for eloquent phrases and courtly prose. All must understand, all must know. "There comes a time when we must move on. When the past gives way to future deeds, yet lingers on, remembered and cherished but never forgotten." From the most addle-brained doe to the most ignorant of fawns, all would be safe in the knowledge that this was the right choice. That this was the only choice. "The Elder tree is not earthly bark and homely roots- it is an ethereal concept that will withstand the passage of time. There will be other old-growth forests, other Mother Giants that we gather around in daily passage, other streams and rivers and valleys." He met each wavering gaze, infusing each and every one with hope and faith as his powerful voice rang out in the clearing. ""We are forest dwellers. We live in the forest- we eat, sleep, rejoice, and pass on within the forest's gentle bows. But we are not tied down to one place, one time. We will live on. We will leave, but it will not be a desertion, for the Good Spirits of this land have deserted us. They have moved on, and so shall we."
His gaze flickered to the form of his resolute companion, Faline, who had stood by him so faithfully throughout these tough times. To Awita, his mother's old friend. To Tooantu, a rambunctious fawn who had carried water for the sick and dying. To Adsila and Galilahi, Salali and Sidine, Teque and Tiadowi. Elini, Quaquaa, Kamili, Dowa, Liliyani. This was his herd. These were the Cerynei- not the land, not the sky nor the air nor even the ideals, but the ardent souls who stood before him now.
This was what he was born to defend. This was what he must protect- at all costs.
He must guide them to new, fertile pastures where they could rebuild and rejoice. "The Good Spirits wait for us in the Kawani lands." Lands of such promise, of such earnest potential.
The Cerynei would live on.
They would survive.
"We leave at first light."
The Herd would rise from the ashes of their desolate past, rising to meet whatever the future held like a phoenix from the flame.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Be not afraid; flee we must.
The Elder tree was ash.
The Prince knelt beneath the twisted form of the revered willow, head bowed in deference. He was unable to look at the tree's gnarled limbs, reaching towards its partner even in death. Charred by the raging fires that swept the land like a ceaseless plague, it was one of many casualties in this war of Nature's pride.
Forsaken eyes the color of pale honey flashed towards the lifeless Forest giant. Did sap still run through its sooty bark, or had it been crystallized by the inferno's wrath?
So much pain. So much sorrow.
He suppressed a violent shudder as he pictured the fawn's broken form, still cradled in it's mothers protective embrace. The pair had taken a wrong turn, and been trapped within the turbulent wildfire's cruel talons. He had known the mother since childhood; her name was Amadahy- Forest Water. He had been there the day her fawn, Awinita, was born.
Too much death; too much sorrow.
He gathered all his strength, drawing from the deepest reserves in the farthest reaches of his cavernous soul. He rose in one single, fluid movement, and turned to face what was to come.
He watched as the herd, hesitant, emerged from the shadows of their former life. He watched their eyes- blue, green, earthen tones- he watched their fear, their timid despair, their halting expectation as they met his stoic gaze. He watched as they fell into the familiar half-circle about the Elder tree, ready for their Leader's instructions.
"My friends..." The land was barren. The land was parched, sterile- it could no longer support life. To stay would be suicide; To leave...? "This land served us well." Now was not the time for eloquent phrases and courtly prose. All must understand, all must know. "There comes a time when we must move on. When the past gives way to future deeds, yet lingers on, remembered and cherished but never forgotten." From the most addle-brained doe to the most ignorant of fawns, all would be safe in the knowledge that this was the right choice. That this was the only choice. "The Elder tree is not earthly bark and homely roots- it is an ethereal concept that will withstand the passage of time. There will be other old-growth forests, other Mother Giants that we gather around in daily passage, other streams and rivers and valleys." He met each wavering gaze, infusing each and every one with hope and faith as his powerful voice rang out in the clearing. ""We are forest dwellers. We live in the forest- we eat, sleep, rejoice, and pass on within the forest's gentle bows. But we are not tied down to one place, one time. We will live on. We will leave, but it will not be a desertion, for the Good Spirits of this land have deserted us. They have moved on, and so shall we."
His gaze flickered to the form of his resolute companion, Faline, who had stood by him so faithfully throughout these tough times. To Awita, his mother's old friend. To Tooantu, a rambunctious fawn who had carried water for the sick and dying. To Adsila and Galilahi, Salali and Sidine, Teque and Tiadowi. Elini, Quaquaa, Kamili, Dowa, Liliyani. This was his herd. These were the Cerynei- not the land, not the sky nor the air nor even the ideals, but the ardent souls who stood before him now.
This was what he was born to defend. This was what he must protect- at all costs.
He must guide them to new, fertile pastures where they could rebuild and rejoice. "The Good Spirits wait for us in the Kawani lands." Lands of such promise, of such earnest potential.
The Cerynei would live on.
They would survive.
"We leave at first light."
The Herd would rise from the ashes of their desolate past, rising to meet whatever the future held like a phoenix from the flame.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Be not afraid; flee we must.
