Horizon

Dawnbreak RP
Worldbuilding Wednesday #5

The Luneri are a humanoid people whose bodies and magical abilities are subtly influenced by the moon. They aren't undead, immortal vampires, or anything comparable, they are simply a people - akin to human and yet much different - whose biology and magic evolved, or was created, to exist in rhythm with the lunar cycle.

Their apperance has certain aspects about it which appears almost otherworldly.

- Their skin is exceptionally pale - often seems silvery - and has faint patterns beneath it that become visible in moonlight;
- Hair colors ranging from black, silver, and white to deep violet, midnight blue, or lavender;
- Eyes appear to reflect light strongly in darkness;
- Pupils subtly change shape during different lunar phases

Depending on the moon phase they were born under, the Luneri are said to be exceptionally gifted in certain aspects.

New Moon: illusion magic, stealth, espionage
Waxing Moon: transformative magic, conjuration quick development
Full Moon: powerful overall magic, heightened senses, exceptional charisma, strong presence
Waning Moon: healing, spiritual magic, necromancy

In general, almost all Luneri are able to cast magic. They draw power from the moon itself, but also dreams, emotions, and memories.

Most particularly, Luneri do not cast ordinary shadows under moonlight; instead, they can sometimes act independently, especially during intense emotion, when performing magic, or when near death, revealing aspects of their true respective nature.

Luneri are a very longevous people; however, their lifespans differ greatly. In any case, they are expected to live for at least 700 years, but some individuals have been known to have been alive for thousands of years. The reasons for this are still not entirely disclosed.

Montandi-Cisalpina wrote:

✧ Light of the Stars September 21st, 2026: Below is our question of the day - feel free to share your answer with us!

Who is the smallest artist you regularly listen to?

This question was brought to you by the Ministry of Gameside!

Me. I am an artist.

Freemer wrote:

Dawnbreak RP - Yora’s Mandate #14

Click to show...

The next day was spent bringing off a small about of jewels. The diamonds were gone, as were the emeralds and amethysts and lolmany other things, but there were rubies, sapphires, peridot, crystals, topaz, and bronze. There were only little amounts of each; Hallow wished to save some for this land called Stevist Guam, and maybe even Imantica. Yora was also gifted with baskets of flowers, a sampler of the types of wood, a necklace made of pearls, a golden brooch, and an intricately made Farrish dagger. She was also gifted with a map of Farrine, as well as a paper. It looked blank at first, but when she saw it, she saw figures moving. Without words, it explains a brief history of Farrine and the types of magic, using ink as animation; this was certainly the work of a skilled Spellcaster.

Hallow and Joy promised they’d be gone a week. But one week soon turned into two. The crew begged to stay longer and have more food and see more sight and visit other people. Many were curious about what Liora, the “true queen”, was like. Other times they were stalled by people getting lost, or Spellcasters trying and failing to learn the same translation spell, or Hallow struggling to explain to Yora the desire to put an embassy in both their nations. The words “embassy” and “diplomat” didn’t exist in the Farrish language, so he had to use a roundabout way to explain it.

Fifteen days later, Joy put her foot down one day and said they were leaving.

Hallow: “Now hold on there, Joy. I have a few questions for Yora.”

Joy: “Go ask her quickly.”

Hallow: “Remember who is the king and who is the princess.”

Joy: “Sorry.”

Hallow: “My questions concern navigation you know. Something that’ll assist you as well.”

Joy couldn’t help but agree that this was a good idea, so she sent Francis to prepare the ship and the sailors to go home. Meanwhile, she accompanied Hallow to see Yora.

Hallow had a bunch of questions, right off the bat. Joy, despite herself, joined in. With the two of them speaking, it was impossible to chime in, and difficult to make out what they’re saying. But Yora could pick out the following:
“What is Stevist Guam like?”
“Are there any dangers in the sea?”
“What about the currents?
“Where is Farrine?”
“What is Hvaremas?”
“Do you know anything of us?”
“Do the other places have the machines and technology that we do?”

Adeline, on the other hand, had gotten quite chummy with a group of songbirds. She asked some to come with her, but they begged her to stay. She looked at the shining city of Silvarin and realized no one was looking back at her. She wasn’t odd in this city. She felt she was going to miss this place more than the others, but she made the least amount of fuss and heeded to Francis’ orders.

DAWNBREAK - Elarithil - Yora's Mandate #15 ~ Freemer

I listened to the questions in silence while carefully observing everything and the surroundings. I was purposefully allowing Hallow and Joy to finish before raising a hand, I know that I hated being interrupted at least and I would extend the same courteous to foreigners in this case at least. “One at a time.” My eyes briefly turned towards Joy in particular. She had a rather marquee ability to produce several questions before the previous one had even been answered. A trait not uncommon of many in Elarithil as well, but not a trait I was that fond of personally. She had made quite the impression so far, and some things were rather obvious when reading between the lines. I suspected more that I do not particlarly feel like going into detail about, ultimately though, the questions themselves were useful. “Stevist Guam is a close ally of Elarithil and historical trading partner for many hundreds of years. You should certainly visit them, and their capital of Liberty is quite nice. They will certainly give you another useful point of comparison as to what the outside world is like.” I looked down at the map. “The sea is more complicated. To that end there is much that should be avoided, as I am sure you found out on your journey here. We will mark what we know, though I would not mistake our markings as exhaustive of all possibilities that could occur. ” I paused briefly. “Farrine was relatively unknown to us before your arrival, at least in the sense of what your nation and people were like. As for your technology question, it stands to reason that a long period of isolation would lead to separate technological development than the outside world. Of course, to offer an in-depth analysis I would need examples of said technology, but that is neither here nor there right now.

I pulled the map closer and began marking several routes with a quill, carefully distinguishing the major currents from the safer passages. “These routes should make the return journey more efficient. I trust your navigators can figure out what to do from there.” I then looked back toward Hallow. “Your embassy is straightforward enough. A permanent place for Farrine to maintain contact with Elarithil will be established here in the shining silver port of Silvarin. Liora can determine any formal arrangements beyond that.” I set the quill down, only for the doors behind them to open. There was absolutely zero question who it was, as I turned my head as familiar footsteps approached, that unmistakable confident, that aura... and the long green traditional dress of the Elarithae Queen. “Speaking of Liora,” I said with a faint smirk appearing across my face. “It seems you will not have to wait much longer to discuss with her.”

shponkleborg

Helena Post Apotheosis Global Order wrote:

DAWNBREAK : Alliance of Rebirth / Into Dawnbreak VII. - “Lamiaworms”
[b]Lamiaworms - The New Dark Mess

worm

The citizens of OrangeFever focused highly on taking out the Dark Mess. Their efforts were to no avail, as using fire just made it more upset and spread further.

In the meanwhile, a different kind of problem was brewing…

Inside a Lamiaworms’ burrow…

Sniff, sniff, sniff.
A pleasant scent.
Located in OrangeFever.
We must eat.

They started wiggling and digging through the underground, quickly arriving to OrangeFever.
They dug and created many burrows.
Then, when an unsuspecting piece of biomass (person) turned their back…

Screech!
The Lamiaworms made it out of the burrow, decapitated the unsuspecting OrangeFeveran.
Then they ate the rest of his body alive.

Many parties died due to lamiaworm attacks. It distressed those who knew, and the information would reach the Village Center.

For now, the worms are ravaging the rest of the unsuspecting crowds…

ORANGE FEVER II - THE VERMIN
The Dark mess broods just beyond OrangeFever. The forests groan as fire and darkness fight over the wilds; the body of the world is deeply infected, and someone thinks a rising flame will help.

The fields of OrangeFever grow reams of grain. Yet prospective harvest hides a much more silent threat, and a different kind of harvest. Not for the people of OrangeFever, but of the people. Little holes dot the fields, the wilds no matter how scorched, and through the floorboards of colonial homes. Little burrows, a network of many, yet only one mind. Like a virus they multiply underneath the surface.

People start disappearing. The fever becomes more anxious and...

The New Pathogen is Seen.
Just beyond OrangeFever: The Wilds

The loggers throw their axes against trees in wide swings, bark falls asunder to a field populated with stumps and ash. Flares watch with weapons drawn, they look to the crowded confines of the forest, and back to the nearby town. Unbeknownst to them, however, the field is populated with something else just below.

The Lamia Worms are hungry.

The dirt trembles and breaks apart below the feet of one logger, then another, then another. As they are systematically ripped apart by surfacing Lamia Worms. A torrent of swirling shouts are heard as the flares prepare to combat the foes, Flarestruck, the blaze of the group, hurls a fireball unto the closest swarm of hungry masses, but a volley of embers burns indiscriminately and thus destroys both predator and prey. Meanwhile, the flares rush with vigor and long pyre to dispatch the vermin by sparking their own dazzling blaze.

Unfortunately for them, however, the now engorged worms are quick to scurry back into their burrows by the fear of the mere sight of embers. And so, with pleading effort, the flares jam their pikes down the burrows to nothing. "The shame, the shame, the shame!" Flarestruck bellows, "What sly creatures, despicable, GNASHING, but nothing is ever too quick." He turns to one of the new recruits who like many did not jam their pyre into the open ground quick enough to skewer blood and make ash. "Seara, what doth thee think of this...? Four good workers just died, because we failed. Because we weren't quick enough... collectively. And part of that is because thou wasn't good enough. So what doth thee reckon, eh?"

Seara comes to her feet and stands stalwart before the Blaze, "W-well it was so awful and we... musn't, never, musn't fail again. Methinks we must verily stand and seek... Revenge." The Blaze smiles. "Revenge is a beautiful word, and what shall we revenge with Flagrana?" Flagrana unlike many others had scorched the worms to ash. She traced the early-spoken word of beautiful to her deeds and traced her deeds to one flagrant word.

"Fire."

"Correct."

Extermination Address
Central OrangeFever: The Village Center

The 'meeting home' had since been rebuilt from the final vestiges of infection that had last plagued the town. It was not quite as firm as the original building, yet its protections were much firmer, indeed. Flares practically circled the building as they patrolled the town like a fervent immune response looking for enigmatic viruses.

Many of these flares were new recruits, they did not have the enchanted weapons of the well trained military men, instead, they wielded pyres fashioned from the wild remains of the forest gone sawdust and ever-expanding ash. Ever-expanding, for a fever is a violent process upon the body of the world.

Flares come forth from the wilds and convene with their kin, it is a short and erratic explanation and within little time the torch-wielder comes forth to the stand, the masses pile in, and a meeting commences.

"People of our great town of OrangeFever. Earlier today it hath been discovered that a new pathogen lies in our midst. Heed these words, for below the ground lay awful things... gnashing, biting, and tearing. For our OrangeFever, we must act! All of thee must take upon torch or pyre at all times, for now it becomes increasingly clear that at all times the cracking ichor of viruses come for us all. As for these beasts below, the flares will cleanse this problem, they shall burn these beasts asunder till they hath not the capacity to plague us. Off with all of thou, for the time of dedication is now."

The Nest
Just beyond OrangeFever: The Wilds

A wagon full of Pulverized Ashwing is wheeled into the wilds, its wheels clink as it is dragged through dirt and bits of ash. The cart stops and Blaze Flarestruck looks upon his soldiers: "Halt! Fill thy pockets with ashwing, and stuff them unto and beside these sickening burrows, stand stalwart with distance besides thine explosives and on three we shalt blow the vile asunder."

The flares nod, shovel handfuls of the ashen grain into their midst, and set out around a perimeter. Just as they had been ordered they drop grain into the burrows and drop grain besides, transforming the landscape into a powder keg. They step back with steady breathe. Perfectly ready, perfectly planned. They take upon themselves their weapons, their crossbows of flaming bolts, their steely blades and their long-shafted pyres.

"One."

They train their aim unto the volatile grain.

"Two."

Their aim steadies... and.

"T—"

Within seconds the ground breaks apart as the infection fights back against the fever. Lamia worms lunge against the flares to protect their hives. But before even a single bite pierced the flesh of the flares the entire field was gone.

A single flaming bolt landed on a grain of Volatile Ashwing and the chain reaction, oh it was simply, beautiful. One explosion ignited another, and another, and another... and before long—no, short; the field was meters deeper and caught in a raging conflagration that ravaged the nest that once sat below.

From the blazing nest an incredible sound is heard as a thick-shelled, gigantic lamia worm rears its ugly face to the flares which battle their savage kin. Flares shoot at it with a volley flaming bolts yet the protection of its shell guarantees its ultimate resistance to the blows, to which it swiftly retaliates by spitting wretched acid at its attackers which burns their skin in a way even they greatly abhor.

Within the field of chaos Seara staggers to rush behind some sort of cover. She could not hide herself behind a towering tree; the forest in which they conducted the operation was now a field after all. And so, with quick thinking, Seara leaps without grace and falls flat behind a mound of dirt. Her head hammers but at least she isn't dead, she looks up bleary-eyed as she sees a hand. Someone was with her. She grips her newfound savior's hand and jolts up to see the blaze that had brought her here, Flarestruck, standing before her.

"Revenge was a good answer. Peer beyond and see the carnage, my flares need something more, to enact such a sweet principle as revenge." Seara leans to the side of the dirt mound and sees the soldiers standing atop a steep hill created by the catastrophic blast. Below them the savage beasts clammer up in a vicious swarm, she watches in horror as a lamia worm launches itself at a fellow flare... a face she recognized for mere seconds before it transformed into more blood than face. She gazes for what seems forever till she is snapped out of her frozen stare by a shout from a crossbowman on the hill, "THE TITAN IS TURNING".

Seara immediately throws herself back behind the frail wall... "It's an awful chaos out there." The blaze nods. "We must be victorious. So know this is necessary; sacrifice is necessary." He pulls a dagger out of his belt, it gleams orange. "For the Inferno, for thus it shall provide our power upon this fuel of sacrifice." Seara suddenly realizes what he is doing... "Ah! You can't, y-your our ace; the powerful blaze. We'll die without you, is—is this not a horrible thing to do?"

"I am the ace. When thou burns a card, thou hath it no more." In a single motion Flarestruck strikes the dagger deep into his neck, but blood does not spill. Instead, embers bursts through the fatal wound as his body crumples to the ashen ground.

For a moment Seara believes all is lost, that burning the ace is not the way to play it... had she forgotten the game? Then, suddenly, upon the ashes of Flarestruck she feels an immense amount of power. ". . . The Inferno." The battling flares were duly imbued to make use of the magics. The sacrifice proves their worth in spreading the flames after all, and it was good fuel for their fires. Seara strides to the side of the mound and looks at the battle. The titan is cemented in the bare dirt and stones, it streaks acid unto her companions in arms. She looks at the flares, she looks and sees them act with renewed vigor. Waves of flames crash like ocean tides unto the beasts below, and ash follows the waves.

Yet that titan, she knew what she had to do. With a precise stride in her steps the warrior staggers with stealth towards the grand beast... the shell seemed all encompassing, but there was always a weakness to things. Nothing was invincible. Not to flames. She reasoned that the vulnerability had to be an underside, the worm had cemented itself so deeply into the ground after all.

Above the ravaged earth the other flares watch her movements with worried eyes, "Doth thou see that! Seara, so new, a noble endeavor." A glare begets the speaker, "is it not reckless? Are we not to watch her die before our very eyes?" Seara hears the crowd yet no second thoughts grace her mind, how else would it perish? All the Ashwing was already used after all. She strides close to the titan and looks upon the grand beast and... a slope downwards. She spots her theory fulfilled, beneath the shell is indeed a soft skin.

The rest of the lamia worms were either a part of the thick ash that coated the landscape or had left, better pastures perhaps? A giant could not move away so easily, yet it was always so frustratingly stalwart. Perhaps its nature would not do it any good, though, a heavy downpour of fire rains down upon its shell. It focuses on the attacks that may very well graze its innards. But it should have worried about the underside, Seara points her pyre downwards and throws it unto the belly of the beast. It draws blood, but the blood is never seen... for flames follow soon after.

The Titan is engulfed in flames.
There is enough oxygen, there is enough heat, and it is the fuel.