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Post Your Guildhall

ShedrinShedrin
edited May 2017 in Common Grounds
All of Hallifax has their guildhalls now, and I know some of the other guilds have theirs. The admins and builders put a lot of work into the halls and they're really great, so if your guild isn't too secretive, post it here for everyone to enjoy.

edit:
Aerie

Listeners
Wodewoses
Sowers

ADHERENTS GUILD HALL:

Entrance:
You solemnly place a hand on an immaculate tome bound between sheets of crystal and your
surroundings melt away as an image of Cririk Adom arises from the tome. He clasps your hand and
leads you along a soaring skyway from the Spire of the Lawgivers to alight atop the Primary
Generator. As the form of Cririk shimmers away, you realise the ground is solid beneath your feet
standing at the Gateway of Collectivism.

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--- Gateway of Collectivism ------- 1:0:0 ---

Gateway of Collectivism.
Large, looming walls carved from argent grey marble and cold purple amethyst dominate this vast
central chamber, rigidly hexagonal in structure. Above, the vaulted ceiling stretches to the sky
before culminating in a sharp peak, its mirrored, triangular facets reflecting all things below from
various perspectives. As the intimidating gateway to the solemn halls of the Adherents of Adom, the
chamber possesses on each of its six sides a large, looming archway leading to a long corridor. The
marble-hewn keystone of every archway is deeply engraved with the official symbol of the Adherents,
glowing a deep amethyst as individuals pass beneath them. Otherwise bereft of ostentatious adornment,
 the hall possesses a floor of gleaming black onyx, a structured mandala inlaid with the same grey
marble. At the centre stands a tall pillar, engraved with the entirety of the Collectivist Manifesto.
 Indistinct voices and sounds echo throughout the halls, distant and cold, contributing to the heavy,
 austere atmosphere.
You see exits leading north, northeast, southeast, south, southwest, northwest, and out.

Overlooking the Primary Generator.
In a smooth transition from sombre grey marble and cold amethyst into clear, colourless crystal, the
halls of the Adherents of Adom gradually unfold into this airy, hexagonal lookout chamber. Silvered
conduits race through the glassy gemstone, increasing the opacity of the crystal to seal out natural
light and adjust the brightness of the hall. Witnessed through the crystalline floor, the Primary
Generator lies several metres below the chamber, the structure a dazzling conglomeration of
frantically flickering conduits, arcing tubes, and colourful display monitors. An intricate diagram
engraved into the floor and chased with coloured gemstone precisely indicates the different parts of
the Generator, the delineated segments overlaying the true apparatus far below.
You see exits leading north, northeast, south, and northwest.

Formal study hall.
The cold grey stone of this elementary, uncluttered hall allows an abundance of natural light
through its inset panels of translucent crystal to illumine the entire chamber during the day,
although plentiful fluorescent lamps are available for more delicate work or study. Partitioned off
from one another, compact, hexagonal study areas have walls of alternating silver-veined grey marble
and dark, opaque amethyst, allowing scholars to sequester themselves away from the distractions of
the outside world. Neatly organised within each workspace, several tools are at hand for a scholar's
various needs. Cleverly concealed drawers in the walls contain magnifying glasses for examining
smaller print, as well as crystalline pads and styluses for taking notes. Mounted on three of the
six sides of the hexagon, a broad sheet of smooth grey slate provides a larger, more visible writing
surface with the drawers closest containing chalk and blackboard erasers.
You see a single exit leading north.

Chancery of Law.
Affixed to the argent grey walls, steel lanterns panelled with thin sheets of clear and amethyst-
tinged glass incandesce a constant glow, casting both coloured and colourless light throughout this
writing office. Embedded into the walls, shelves upon shelves of official documents and texts burst
with polished leather tomes, aged vellum scrolls, and crystal-encased edicts and laws. With the
shelves filled to excess, a large remainder of leftover, outdated documents pile up neatly on side
tables and within several chests, still arranged in alphabetical and chronological order. The back
wall of the chamber remains unobscured by the veritable mountains of official documents and working
drafts, due to its inlay of crystal-wrought display cases, brightly lit to prominently display the
documents within. Among them are: the original written text of the Collectivist Manifesto, the
official draft of the first iteration of the Laws of Hallifax, and the architectural and engineering
diagrams for the Primary Generator and its lesser fellows.
You see exits leading north, northeast, and southeast.

Annals of the assembly.
With a lofty crystal-inset ceiling and high walls of argent grey marble, this grand hall for
historical records is an impressive sight to behold. Pale amethyst and cloudy grey quartz compose
several hexagonal alcoves of shelves, the sleek honeycomb structure lining the walls of this
symmetrical, six-sided chamber. Neatly sorted and categorised, a wide array of books, holographic
discs, and audio recordings fills each hexagonal alcove, lit by the pale white fluorescence of
visible circuitry. At the centre of the hall, an onyx kiosk stands, housing a complex control panel
within for selecting various items for retrieval. The low-pitched, steady hum of machinery is a
constant, as mechanical claws sort new information into various slots, or retrieve records from the
walls of the library.
You see exits leading north, southwest, and northwest.

Hall of the Senate.
This grand, sombre hall is impressively vast in both height and breadth, the argent-cast walls of
deep grey marble upholding the lofty, hexagonal ceiling. Bright, dodecahedral lanterns of colourless
crystal are suspended above, illumining the immense chamber. Several rows of long tables set with
chairs are lined up parallel to five of the six walls of the room as a series of concentric, open
hexagons. Each seat is fitted with a small, unobtrusive microphone and a slim, gilded name plaque to
identify the one seated. An amethystine note-taking pad lies embedded into the tabletop before each
chair; beside the pad, a shallow incision harbours a matching stylus for writing. One grand table on
an elevated dais provides a place for the higher-ranked members of the legislature to sit, the wall
behind it decorated with faceted inlays of pallid amethyst, creating the austere crest of the
Adherents of Adom. The remaining walls don long purple banners embroidered with dark grey and silver
threads in geometrical knotwork designs, the negative space at their centres echoing the shape of
the dignified crest of the Adherents.
You see exits leading south, southwest, and northwest.

Hall of Justice.
Streaming down in cascades of cold amethyst silk richly patterned with dark grey and silver threads,
numerous banners hang upon the grey marble walls of this prodigious judicial chamber. They alternate
between geometrical knotwork patterns that coalesce into the lustrous crest of the Adherents, and
lines of embroidered text that form the complete Laws of the Collective of Hallifax. At the fore of
the courtroom, the judge's bench stands intimidatingly tall in black onyx and argent grey marble
before the most elaborate and detailed of the crested banners. Flanking this raised focal point is
the witness stand on the left and a desk on the right for the court reporter to stenotype legal
proceedings. To one side is the jury box, and the counsel tables for the plaintiff, the defendant,
and their respective legal teams are at the centre of the chamber, an onyx lectern between them. The
remainder of the space beyond the grey marble bar enclosing the litigation area is lined with long,
stone-sculpted pews to seat curious onlookers.
You see exits leading northeast, southeast, and south.

Generator lookout.
The dignified columns and corridors of austere grey and amethyst abruptly fall away as their
composition shifts to the pellucid, colourless crystal of this extensive lookout chamber. Conduits
running through the gemstone modulate the brightness of the room by adjusting the translucency of
the glass-like material, the ceiling above and the upper halves of the walls darkening as far as to
seamlessly unite with the halls' opaque walls of argent grey marble. The hexagonal floor remains
perfectly clear, allowing an unobstructed view of the Primary Generator and the Transdimensional
Flux Core below. Still within sight despite their comparative distance, the six lesser generators of
Hallifax stand brilliant and scintillating, each a complex structure of semi-translucent gemstone
and flaring conduits.
You see exits leading north, southeast, south, and southwest.

Office of Order.
Dodecahedral steel-and-crystal lanterns are situated at regular intervals across the high ceiling of
the Office of Order, suspended by metallic filaments so fine that they are nearly invisible, but for
the stray gleam of light cast against them. The floor echoes the cool, metallic hues of the lanterns,
 a rigid geometric pattern incised into the stone and chased with pale silver. The argent grey
marble of the walls flows into a stained-glass window, the vividly-hued crystal barely translucent
enough to see the magnificent Hallifaxian vista beyond. Glimmering with fused gemstone inclusions,
cold hues of lavender, amethyst, violet and indigo coalesce into the stern visage of Cririk Adom,
presiding over the old Board of Directors in the midst of a conference. Behind them, the intricate
outline of a many-spired city is delineated in pallid purple hues, fierce gales and currents of
silvered glass streaming across the skies, yet never threatening the stability of the floating
bridges and towers.
You see a single exit leading south.

There's also a secret room that not even the Adherents can access yet, as it requires GR5.

Exit:
Falling past crystalline spires.
Quickly coming into frightening focus, the once distant Primary Generator in its crystalline glory
looms ever larger. The pulsing energy thumps heavily amidst the sound of air rushing past on this
descent. Everything is a blur as the glittering spires sparkle and gleam, tantalising and teasing as
each pierces the sky above in defiance of gravity. Things below in the coruscating city grow in size,
 ready to meet descenders head on, painfully.
There are no obvious exits.
Stepping off the platform, you begin to fall freely from the great heights above the Primary
Generator down to the city below, which is now rushing up to meet you at high speeds. Your stomach
somersaults in a sickening lurch as your plummet accelerates...

Arriving like a comforting breeze on a hot day, a shimmering image of Cririk Adom appears and places
a hand upon your shoulder, approvingly. His words echo into your ear, 'The Collective stands united
and supports each other, always.' In a moment of clarity and wisdom, you fall no more as he escorts
you to the Spire of the Lawgivers.

And a reference from @Arix on what the Hall of Justice might look like:


edit: I don't know why the map suddenly broke. Please, forums.


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Comments

  • ShaddusShaddus , the Leper Messiah Outside your window.
    Those are absolutely astounding entrances and exits. Well done, admin. 
    Everiine said: The reason population is low isn't because there are too many orgs. It's because so many facets of the game are outright broken and protected by those who benefit from it being that way. An overabundance of gimmicks (including game-breaking ones), artifacts that destroy any concept of balance, blatant pay-to-win features, and an obsession with convenience that makes few things actually worthwhile all contribute to the game's sad decline.
  • EritheylEritheyl ** Trigger Warning **
    God, I hope I'm this enthralled by Gaudi's :|
    Crumkane, Lord of Epicurean Delights says, "WAS IT INDEED ON FIRE, ERITHEYL."

    -

    With a deep reverb, Contemptible Sutekh says, "CEASE YOUR INFERNAL ENERGY, ERITHEYL."
  • EritheylEritheyl ** Trigger Warning **
    Yomoigu said:
    (quietly throws a carpet over the muddy pit that leads to the Revelry's guildhall)
    Did it really tie the room together? Is it at least nice mud under there???


    Crumkane, Lord of Epicurean Delights says, "WAS IT INDEED ON FIRE, ERITHEYL."

    -

    With a deep reverb, Contemptible Sutekh says, "CEASE YOUR INFERNAL ENERGY, ERITHEYL."
  • ShaddusShaddus , the Leper Messiah Outside your window.
    Yomoigu said:
    (quietly throws a carpet over the muddy pit that leads to the Revelry's guildhall) 
    I mean, didn't Mysrai mention the Revelry's tutor had a dungeon? 
    Everiine said: The reason population is low isn't because there are too many orgs. It's because so many facets of the game are outright broken and protected by those who benefit from it being that way. An overabundance of gimmicks (including game-breaking ones), artifacts that destroy any concept of balance, blatant pay-to-win features, and an obsession with convenience that makes few things actually worthwhile all contribute to the game's sad decline.
  • OrventaOrventa
    Consortium is [REDACTED], also, simply too many rooms to list. You all will just have to come for a tour. Admission may or may not include a free gasmask.


    I'm a consent-based roleplayer! Kindly ask first, and I will return the favour. Open to developing tinyplots.
    Atlantis is my client of choice! (Guide)
  • SaranSaran
    The Barrowglade (Listeners)


    Mound and tree.

    There is a moderate breeze here. Amid the surrounding oak woods and cairns rises a great burial mound of moss-covered earth. The mound towers above the nearby forest, rounded like a dome and awash with vegetation. It is set here and there with great, ridged stones that protrude haphazardly. The stones are carved with abstract figures of trees, line after line criss-crossing over one another. Moss finds its way into the cracks, making the stones blend into the surrounding soil. An ancient oak tree grows out of the mound, the many-coloured branches in the great crown bearing not only notched oak leaves, but also hints of apple, plum, peach, and elderberry that appear to have been grafted in. A scattered layer of leaves and petals rests upon the mound and at its base, where at times the tracks of animals can be seen pressed into the soft earth. Embedded into the moss-veiled mound, an antique seal of emerald and jade gleams with silver light. Reaching up as high as the eye can see looms the awesome presence of a living totem. Delicate skeins of dusky hues swirl around the spirit of Teharo Stardapple as he impresses his surroundings with a filmy haze.

    You see a single exit leading south.

    ----

    As your fingertips briefly brush against the green stone of the seal, its erupts in a fountain of silvery light that encapsulates you in cold brilliance, causing your body to dissolve into pure spirit. Quickly, you pass through the burial mound into the earthen depths of the Barrowglade, your body reforming on the other side, whole and hale.

    ----

    south of the heart, entrance

    ----

    Through the earthen threshold.

    Great slabs of stone are pressed into the earthen walls here, supporting a short underground alcove. The slabs bear a greenish hue and abstract carvings of trees, which are covered with a soft fuzz of moss. Beneath the trees are a variety of stylised figures of spirits and ancestors of old, lined with gleaming traceries of silver and occasionally gold. Between and around the stone slabs, damp earth is tightly packed, giving off a scent of rich loam and muffling sound. To the north, the alcove widens significantly and the ceiling transitions from large stones to looser soil, which is held together by a web of roots. The southern portion of the alcove ends in an packed earthen wall, into which smaller stone designs have been pressed. The air is cool and moist, and there is a sense of hushed solemnity that encourages attentive silence. Emebedded into the earthen wall, an antique seal of emerald and jade gleams with silver light. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground.

    You see exits leading north, northeast, and northwest.

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    ----

    The heart of the Barrowglade.

    Shifting streams of light filter in through the bough-pierced pinnacle of the ceiling, filling the heart of the barrow with rollicking constellations and capering shadows. Arranged in a sweeping arc, great graven stelai strung with intricately braided ropes loom protectively, drawing focus to the gargantuan tree that commands the centre of this clearing. An apparent blend of different species from both within and without the borders of Serenwilde, the tree boasts an ancient, sturdy grapevine amongst its branches, offering purchase into the heights of its canopy. Below, its vast root system sprawls over the ground like a multitude of unseeing hands, grasping and eager to trip the unwary. In between two greater roots, the mouth of a warren can be seen. With mighty branches rife with leaves and flowers of different colours, textures and shapes, the Speaking Tree has dug its thick roots deep into the earth.

    You see exits leading north, northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, northwest, up, and down.

    l tree

    A spectacular sight to behold, the Speaking Tree has grown in a place few others would: within the depths of the burial mound. Its trunk is as wide as the oldest of oak trees and its branches stretch high above, flaring out of the Barrowglade's skylight in order to greet the air and sun. Unlike other trees, the Speaking Tree bears a canopy of different branches grafted into its own limbs; indeed, the pink-laden branches of apple and plum and the white-flowered elderberry and peach merge with its own verdant arms to create a kaleidoscope of colour.

    ----

    southeast of the heart

    ----

    A devotee's rest.

    Occasional breezes whistling in from the skylight overhead buffet the lush, green grass, exciting ripples through the blades like waves in a jade sea. Humpty-backed boulders loll amidst the greenery, their expansive girths festooned with garlands of moonflowers, prayer flags, and clinking strands of painted bone fetishes. Where the grasses fade and dip into the darkened recesses of the mound, one is offered an unobstructed view of a glorious tree heavy with fruit and flower enthroned at the heart of the barrow.

    You see exits leading north, southwest, west, and northwest.

    ----

    northeast of the heart

    ----

    In the eyes of the Ancestors.

    Cool mist rises from ground, the mossy greensward here teased by primeval forces into forming perfect, concentric circles. Graduated rises of silver cauldrons sigillated with depictions of forestal life in antiquity lie scattered across the elliptical paths in strategic array. Steady water droplets from somewhere above patter melodiously into their depths, the source unseen. A covey of stout, yet fine-featured granite statues dressed in ceremonial raiment rings the innermost circle, keeping watch outward into the shadows.

    You see exits leading south, southwest, and west.

    ----

    northwest of the heart

    ----


    Blanketed by the ages.

    A damp, clinging aroma of spice and dust weighs heavily here. Untold centuries of fallen leaves, branches, and creeping vines have accumulated to form an ever-living, ever-dying, quilt underfoot. Revealed in the wan illumination of the distant light from the southeast, cascading motes of pollen, tufts of down, and varicoloured petals strike the air at the barest trespass of breeze.

    You see exits leading east, southeast, and south.

    ----

    southwest of the heart

    ----

    A vigil of flowers.

    Footing here is somewhat treacherous, the earth sodden and grass slick with dew. The partially collapsed ruin of a hulking, petrified log lies in state in the mire. Besieged by vines and creepers, rootlets and tendrils slowly draw its ancient form further into the earth's embrace. Spears of graceful egret orchids and tiny forget-me-nots have sprouted amidst the glittering rubble of its noble remains, growing steadfast in the light gleaned from the threshold.

    You see exits leading north, northeast, east, and southeast.


    ----

    Up from the heart

    ---- 

    Within a great canopy of light.

    Upon ascending into the great canopy, one emerges into an intoxicating haze of ravishing blooms and ripening fruit. Pink, crimson, and white blossoms scent the air with the spicy, nose-tickling perfume of their nectar. Drawn as if by siren song, hummingbirds, honey bees, and butterflies alike flock for miles around. Fruits too, burden the branches to groaning, even as they rend the vault of the barrow in their quest for light. What light manages to break through into the mound is soft and radiant, sustaining the tranquility that engulfs the entirety of the sacred space. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. In the shape of an open palm, a metallic sigil lies here.

    You see a single exit leading down.

    ----

    east of the heart

    ----

    A chiseled safe-keep.

    Light filters but softly from above, too gentle to cause any harm to the treasures stored in this still and silent chamber. Its rounded walls deeply dug with shelves, alcoves and crannies, this room offers safe hideaways for myriad artefacts and relics from bygone eras, some crumbling under the burden of time. There is no pattern to the networks of shelves, no discernible system; new homes for treasures have clearly been added at need, wherever space might be found to receive them. The packed-earth floor is covered over with a modest rug, intricately woven from strong flaxen threads in blue and grey and muted gold. Offering passage into the room is a low stone-set archway, a faint, dulcet glow glimmering white around its edges. Crafted entirely from the bones of the ancestors, the Drum of the Past stands here. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground.

    You see a single exit leading west.

    l drum


    This ceremonial drum is formed of bones stretched over with stag hide. The taut hide is painted with symbols of the spirits and totem animals in black hue, stark against the time-weathered leather and bleached bones. The drum's massive, wide form looks capable of producing a rich, deep sound when appropriately struck.

    ----

    north of the heart

    ----

    The Chambers of the Waykeeper.

    Soft light glints, argent and azure, off the flagstones of a winding pathway set circuitously into the beaten earth floor. The road leads nowhere in particular, its purpose clearly more symbolic than practical. Each individual tile is unique, making for a series of distinct, embedded footprints striding confidently forth. Some of the peculiar path wanders up the walls and across the ceiling, its stones mapped with old stories meticulously engraved. A smooth, circular hollow dips in a graceful curve at the centre of the room, ringed in cool, clear water. Surging proudly forth from the earth there is a rounded stone table, its surface traced with runic characters filled in with fae-gold. A magnificent fae-gold lantern hangs here upon a fine chain, casting the vicinity in a haunting glow of silver and blue light. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground.

    You see a single exit leading south.

    l lantern

    Generating no heat, this whimsical lantern is clearly of fae craftmanship; from the rosy fae-gold as its choice material to the artful embellishments and crenellations, it is both unusual and beautiful to the eye. From a half-moon handle of wire, the entire lamp hangs by a chain so fine that it looks as if it were floating freely. Behind frosted glass panes, the encased chamber has been divided into two: within one, a black candle burns brightly with silvery moonfire, and in the other, a white candle flickers with the blue flames of Glinshari.

    ----

    west of the heart

    ----

    A hall of remembrance.

    The earthen walls here are packed with deeply embedded stones serving as both reinforcement and decoration. Each stone is distinct in shape, colour or character from the rest, so carefully chosen as to suggest that they might also possess a symbolic or memorial significance. Engraved lines twist and wind their way around the makeshift stonework, roughly outlining the shapes of a network of convoluted trees. Stone shelves jut out from the walls, apparently supported by the spreading branches of this arboreal display; each holds space for a selection of books, artefacts or tokens. Words are scattered at sporadic intervals across the trees, painted or engraved into the stones or the earth. Some are legible, but some are faded beyond recognition - or written in runic characters, strange and ancient and wild. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground.

    You see a single exit leading east.

    ----

    down from the heart

    ----


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    An elaborate root system beneath the mound.

    A network of roots, impossibly complex, cradles the curving walls of this small, hushed chamber in a protective embrace, each snaking down into the earth from the Speaking Tree above. The roots pulse with life and colour, vibrant with health and an irrepressible vitality. The air smells of clean earth and something else: a fresh, bright, hopeful aroma laced with the sweetness of fruit and blossom. The roots have formed tall, narrow apertures in the walls, an array of haphazard archways permitting egress into a series of connecting chambers. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground.
    You see exits leading north, southeast, southwest, and up.

    ----

    north from below the heart

    ----

    A verdant root-chamber of mosaiced leaves.

    A rippling carpet of roots covers the floor here and snakes up the walls, each long, twisting tendril pulsing with life and vitality. Improbably sprouting leaves burst forth from them in a glorious array, unfurling with a joyous disregard for the muted light here at the bottom of the mound. Nor are they content with keeping to a traditional colour palette, for every imaginable hue is represented somewhere herein, the leaves forming shifting mosaic patterns in a vivid display. Roots and leaves join in carefully cradling the cairn at the centre of the room. The smooth, rounded cairn of Shi Thislefur rises here in gentle disarray, covered over with leaves and roots of every possible colour. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground.

    You see a single exit leading south.

    l cairn

    The cairn may have been made of stones and soil at one point, but it's hard to tell. A vibrant sheath of vines, leaves, blossoms, and even small berries cover its surface in a haphazard array, melding the cairn with the surrounding carpet of winding roots. The colours displayed by the foliage do not keep to a traditional palette, bear every imaginable hue in a mosaic of shifting patterns. Occasionally, the leaves shift as if responding to an unfelt breeze.

    ----

    southwest from below the heart

    ----

    A honeycombed root-chamber awash in gold.

    Elaborately honeycombed walls bear a complement of entwining roots which meld seamlessly into the complex design. The chamber is roughly octagonal in shape and of spacious proportions, the ceiling rather high for a space so deeply buried. Muted gold glints and shimmers everywhere, threading through the roots like veins of lambent treasure. Even the stones from which the central cairn is built are gold-tinted and gold-touched, though with a sobriety befitting a monument to lost ancestors. Several shallow alcoves are set into the walls at carefully-spaced intervals, each proudly displaying a waxen effigy of the dead. Decorated with traditional kepheran icons for the death, the cairn of Master Osierti gleams softly from layered applications of gold-tinted wax. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground.

    You see a single exit leading northeast.

    l cairn

    It is no longer clear what stone once composed this cairn, its shape lost to layers upon layers of golden wax that has been carefully applied to the monument. This has given the shrine a smoothness unknown to traditional Serenwilde burial practices, but instead something more akin to the kephera; further, the cairn gleams dimly, as if it possessed a lambency all its own. Upon its surface, riddled objects of kepheran culture honour and revere the body interned, but most significant of all is a wiry, compound-eyed bull that surveys the chamber like a totemic protector.

    ----

    southeast from below the heart

    ----

    A solemn root-chamber.

    This hushed chamber is dominated by the stacked stones of a cairn rising proudly in the centre, a monument to the ancestors. Twisting roots make up the walls, so tightly twined together as to form unbroken expanses of complex knots threaded subtly with colour. The floor, too, is knotted roots, though more sparsely distributed; here and there, patches of bare, packed earth show through, sending the faint aroma of oddly fresh soil into the air. Little adornment interrupts the solemnity of this room, the cairn dominating the space with its modest, ancient gravity. Free of everything, even dust, upon its weathered surface, the bluestone cairn of Aldae Sweetroot stands amongst the knotted rootwork in the chamber. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground.

    You see a single exit leading northwest.

    l cairn

    Though pitted and weathered from the passage of time, foreign bluestone has been heaped into a small pile to create this cairnstone, which is helpfully stablised by the threaded and woven roots upon the floor. What the monument lacks in ornamentation it makes up in conservative elegance: the dark-grain and grey-blue of the rock evoking a minimalism or simplicity that is both beautiful and severe.

    ----

    Tendrils of mist curl about your arm, rising from your hand's connection to the cairn. Soon, the mists envelop you entirely, and you are greeted with a faint scent of rosemary, sage, thyme and other fragrant herbs. There seems to be a current around your ankles, tugging insistently, and yet without moisture. A soft humming song rises at the edge of your hearing. Slowly, the mists recede slightly to reveal the realm of the spirits before you.

    ----

    Fragrant mists.

    It is quite mild. Driven by currents of unknown origin, eddies of mist curl and flow over the ground and rise to obscure vision on all sides as they carry the scents of rosemary, sage, thyme and other fragrant herbs. Bright runes dance in the haze - sometimes close, sometimes far - tinted green, yellow, red and brown like the swirl of leaves across the seasons. At the edge of hearing, soft songs hum with chants of sorrow and chimes of growing hope. Figures too flow in and out of sight among the mists, some detailed enough to recognise while others only give a hint of their presence; nonetheless, there is ever the sense of being watched, of being tested and considered for worthiness. Swirling in curling eddies, herb-scented mist stretches never-endingly in all directions.

    You see exits leading north, northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, and northwest.

    l mist

    Curling and flowing in cool wisps of vapor, the mist of this realm sweeps ceaselessly in all directions; it rises to obscure all things in the distance, leaving only the very present location visible to the naked eye. The pungent scent of herbs - some sweet, others not so much - suffuse its substance, giving it a fragrance that is both otherworldly and familiar.

    You lift your hand to caress the mists in a gentle pattern, ready to return to Serenwilde. The mists respond quickly, swirling about first your arm, and then your entire body, surrounding you with the scent of pungent herbs. When the swirling diminishes, you find yourself in the quiet dark among a network of roots.

    ----

    Not to sure what the deal is there just yet, seems like there's three different rooms based on the weather though.
  • SelenitySelenity My first MC to stay in Serenwilde
    Everiine said:
    Here's Ladrenbenn Camp, the "hall" of the Wodewoses. It's named after the last Rig-Wilde of the Wodewoses before they were obliterated in the Nature Wars.

    To enter, you must IDENTIFY a TRUNK carved with wodesigns, symbols that only Wodewoses know how to follow.

    Reading the carved pine tree, you carefully step through the dense forest brush, discerning a path that very few would be able to find. In short time, you pass another set of trees, then a protruding rock, before finding yourself within the northern home of Ladrennbenn Camp.

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    Crossroads in Ladrennbenn Camp.
    A gentle breeze whistles around you. As the mighty pine and spruce trees give way, a much-frequented path cuts through the forest's underbrush and leads to low and high points within the gully here. Only the occasional flicker of torchlight gives any sense of direction in the gloom of the green, revealing tents, scoops and other temporary dwellings that offer the nomadic Wodewoses a moment's rest at the start of this crossroad. Few bucks, badgers and birds break through the dense woods, only to be greeted with a nod by those few tribespeople who are about, and in the distance, the rush of the Serenwilde River can be heard.
    You see exits leading northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, and northwest.

    The Greenhorns' tent.
    The long tent for unscarred Wodewoses stands flush between a few towering trees, its green canvas a perfect camouflage within the dense brush. Inside, the spacious interior is humbly decorated with animal skins. On the eastern side, parchments of instructive diagrams are pinned to the walls and beside them stand straw testing dummies for practicing skills and attacks; on the western, lutes and drums made by the Green Fens tribe rest upon the dirt floor near Moon River wicker baskets, these filled with food, bandages and other supplies. Candles placed here and there bring the room to focus, pushing back any shadows into the green beyond.
    You see a single exit leading southeast.

    In the shade of a massive spruce tree.
    It is warm and quite pleasant. Breathtaking in its height, one of the tallest trees in Serenwilde grows here, dominating this grove with its infinite branches that stretch out to take in the warmth of the sun; indeed, while there are several pines that cluster together in a dense thicket, none compare to this single spruce tree whose whorled branches are thick with needles and cast long shadows upon the ground. From above, the trilling of birdsong falls like rain, but curiously too, a rope ladder descends, offering access to the canopy overhead.
    You see exits leading east and up.

    A treetop watch-post.
    It is warm and quite pleasant. Built between the mighty arms of the titanic spruce tree known as Old Finepine, this watch-post is nothing more than a fenced landing rather than a proper treehouse. Finely made telescopes stand at each of the four corners of the structure, staring into pockets of visible sky through the dense canopy to offer overhead and distant observation of the Northern Serenwilde. Plush pillows, rugs and blankets gather in a warm pile in the heart of the outpost, used by nocturnal scouts. Thrown over one edge, a rope ladder travels all the way down to the forest floor.
    You see a single exit leading down.

    A sparse coppice of Colbess firs.
    A gentle breeze whistles around you. Here, the trees thin and yield to a grassy vale, populated by six, impossibly tall Colbess firs that reach far beyond even the pinewood canopy in this neck of the forest. These ancient arbours, possessing thin and knotted trunks, grow together as their roots thread into a knotwork of gnarled fingers. Much of the ground is covered in wispy blades of grass, trampled by constant movement; it is clear that this place has become a casual meeting spot of sorts, indicated by the swaying hammocks tied between several of the trees.
    You see a single exit leading north.

    The Proving Grounds.
    A thick cover of clouds obscures the sky in a sheet of dense white. Logs of freshly-cut spruce have been assembled into a makeshift fence around this natural divot in the floor of the gully, creating a perfect space for sparring matches. Underfoot, the rough-hewn earth lacks any grass at all, worn away from the shifting and sliding of feet, and is loose enough to cast about in a thick cloud. Thin needles from the nearby trees flutter down from the canopy above and transform the stage of browns and beige with a drying verdancy. Stretching from the western entrance to the Grounds to the camp, a line of Wodewoses, eager to test their mettle against one another, casually converse, jeer and cheer from the sidelines.
    You see a single exit leading southwest.

    Thinning footpath through the camp.
    A gentle breeze whistles around you. As the ridges of the gully relax here into more even ground, a footpath away from the heart of the camp slopes and thins until it is a bare tread of footsteps. All around, tall pine trees give shelter to all sorts of wildlife: a hoot of owls nesting in their canopy, a rabbit burrow near the base of their trunks and the like. The running waters of Serenwilde River grow louder still, and its glistening surface sparkles through the thicket and shrubs like a vein of quicksilver.
    You see exits leading north, southeast, southwest, and west.

    Gully's edge by the Serenwilde River.
    A gentle breeze whistles around you. Rough-hewn and worn, the lip of the gully stops abruptly in the face of Serenwilde River, a rushing, murky rapids that snakes its way further south. Despite being essentially a cliff-face, the forest does not stop: spruce, birch, pine and oak converge as stalwart watchers of the dark waters, fencing in Ladrennbenn Camp with trunk and branch. Twined around some of the trees are fluttering flags of differing colours and sizes, each denoting their respective clan in the allied tribes as well as their totemic spirit.
    You see a single exit leading south.

    Within a glade of totems.
    A gentle breeze whistles around you. Low-lying branches, thick trunks and wild shrubs part into this open glade of soft grass, which has been left relatively light-treaded. Temporary shrines constructed from wooden poles and dangling charms of bead and bone encircle the space like stalwart guardians; though light and simple, they are able to be broken down and moved at need, each bearing at its heart a small, intricately-carved stone statue of a totemic nature spirit. Bowls of fresh food and piles of animal skins lay before these totems and act as offerings of peace to the spirits by their mortal worshippers. The glade is quiet, solemn even, and those few animals that trespass treat it with reverence, nimbly avoiding the shrines with care.
    You see a single exit leading northeast.

    A slap-dash lorekeeper's tent.
    Stacks of musty tomes lean precariously against the flimsy walls of what was once a spacious tent, threatening to spill out into the campgrounds beyond. Time has cluttered the space with all manner of instruments for the studying of lore: divining rods, ritual staves, headdresses, tapestries, finely-woven rugs, charms and wards all lay strewn about without rhyme or reason. A single, overburdened yet sturdy table stands in the centre, reachable only by a makeshift path through the collected odds and ends that have been gathered over the course of the lorekeeper's work. Candles light the way, most melted down to their wicks and offering only a scant amount of illumination.
    You see a single exit leading northwest.

    Gathering place.
    A thick cover of clouds obscures the sky in a sheet of dense white. Traveling away from the crossroads, the path here widens until it becomes a dirt-raw grove with nary a blade of grass growing underfoot. The trees too relax their grip over this space, and in their place, an assemblage of rocks, log-seats and other mundane objects collect to fill the void of this open, circular clearing. Each of these items gather round a mighty campfire that flickers with hot flames, feeding warmth and light despite the shadow-heavy canopy overhead. More tents are visible, offering respite for weary Wodewoses, and the elaborate tent of the Wyldewald stands nearby amongst them. Kept at bay from the forest by a ring of rune-painted bricks, this campfire of colorful flames roars and burns brightly.
    You see exits leading east, southwest, and northwest.

    In the tent of the Wyldewald.
    Though more elaborate than the other tents of Ladrennbenn Camp, the Wyldewald's tent is nonetheless moveable despite the reinforced latticework of wooden slats upon its walls, floor and roof; easily removable, they show an ingenuity befitting of a nomadic people, and remain mostly covered by brown and green canvas, animal skins and coarse rugs. Torchlight offers ample light in which to see within: the walls bear maps of tribal boundaries, while stacks of tomes lay upon the floor, and in the heart of it all, a long, moonhart wood desk stands ready for deliberations. No door cover keeps the forest or camp from spilling into the tent, and the sounds of both fill the space with their noise. Staring blankly into the empty air, a stag's head hunting trophy hangs overhead.
    You see a single exit leading northeast.

    An open-air forging scoop.
    A thick cover of clouds obscures the sky in a sheet of dense white. Pitched between two trees, a traditional, leather centaur scoop has been erected here with sturdy poles of ironwood holding the roof-structure aloft. Though it lacks any walls, this has been used to the space's advantage, as set within is a simple forge and tools for all sorts of smithery from metallurgy to leather-working. Heat engenders the scoop but it quickly evanesces within the forest's ambient temperature, and the occasional plumes of smoke waft away to mingle into the loamy scent of the woods. Tribespeople spill in every so often, hammering away a quick dent or braiding together bracers before disappearing into the camp once more.
    You see a single exit leading west.

    -----------------------------------------------------------------

    I'm still trying to find out if the campfire and the stag head to anything significant. But the coolest part of the camp?

    It frickin' moves.

    The guildleader (Wyldewald) can decide to move the whole camp from the northern part of the Serenwilde to the southern part and vice versa.. Since we don't have a guildleader yet, I don't know how that changes the layout or look of the camp. But yeah, the whole thing just packs up and moves.
    At least two of us have already experienced "losing the camp" U_U
  • LehkiLehki
    I'll share Sowers when I home later, but I'm now wondering if any other guild halls have pergolas. I had never even heard that word till I looked at one of our rooms that had a bunch of them, and now Aerie lobby has a pergola room too.
  • KerithKerith
    edited May 2017
    Ambervault (Sowers)

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    You enter via a Wheel Gate, which looks like this:
    A perfect circle cut into the Ambervault's curving dome, the Wheel Gate is made from an aged moonhart tree, the heartwood fine-grained and silvery. Whomever crafted it did so with great patience and care, as upon its surface are images not unlike a frieze that tells the story of Ellindel and Glinshari through the year: planting trees in springtime; healing and summoning fae during the summer months; culling and hunting as autumn passes; and finally, enjoined in a warm embrace as winter approaches. The faint presence of some enchantment lingers upon the gate, a charm or spell that suggests that this structure is more than meets the eye.

    Entry room:
    Passing through the Wheel Gate. (road).
    Tendrils of spherical, silver-gold light slowly caress the exit of this circular gate here, the sound of ancient chimes tolling in the air as they pass through the surface of the air around them. Gentle, whispering voices call out in strange tongues, causing the tendrils to warp with colours of light emerald and sapphire, each appearing brighter than before as they fade down to the ground to reveal a white gravel path. A slipstream of warm rippling air pulls one forward through the fresh green undergrowth, as glimpses of amber panes arc high above, glowing like distant lanterns in the comforting dim. Impeding access back into the verdant forest beyond, the Wheel Gate stands resolutely.
    You see a single exit leading northeast.

    Pergolas of moonflower and jasmine.
    Worn white steps lead up to the many small pergolas spread beneath the Ambervault's high panels where foliage and structure are seamlessly dappled with amber-emerald hues. Thin, delicate moonflower buds float across the horizon of the pergolas, unscented as are the slowly awakening jasmine flowers that proliferate around the base of each of the structures. The frosted glass of the pergolas is supported on pillars of honey-stained oak, carved with symbols of the spirits of the First Forest. A moon lantern hangs suspended at each pergola, following the fading white of the gravel path in many directions.
    You see exits leading north, northeast, east, south, southwest, and west.

    A wrinkle of light.
    Leading further toward the center of the Ambervault, a path of white stones travels and branches into a crossroad within the gardens: a central point found to be directly below the apex of the wood-traced dome. Here, the air shimmers with energy, which mounts just ahead into a wrinkle of light - a fissure between the planes. This strange manifestation casts an ethereal luminosity upon the burgeoning life of the garden composed of thin, floral stalks breaking through clusters of slowly melting ice. In the distance, several flora structures of glass and wood rise into the air, they too sloughing off the remnants of a wintry chill. Radiating from the nearby rift, ethereal energy caresses and suffuses the ground with magic and light.
    You see exits leading northeast, southeast, southwest, northwest, and through a dimensional rift.

    stirring ethereal energy:
    Pulsing with a rhythm all its own, like a veritable heartbeat from the wrinkle of light that is the ethereal rift here, a cascade of energy engenders the ground in opalescence. Different shades of colour imbue the soil with magical promise, changing from cool blue, to warm magenta, to rich violet within moments as if it were the passing turn of twilight into coming dawn. Gently, the ethereal energy stirs the grasses much like a fluttering breeze, and the air feels palpable with whatever charge this power gives it.

    Twilit gardens.
    In the shadier part of the dome, the amber wood-traced panels seem to be more subdued to allow plant-life to flourish, but in return, they possess a blue-white bioluminescence that fills this garden. Patches of fae mushrooms next to some copses of willows pop out little spores from one to another in some playful game - sending them to land upon many newly blooming begonias, bleeding hearts, primrose, and forget-me-nots.
    You see exits leading north and in.

    A gardener's gazebo.
    Woven into the shelter of an old cherry blossom tree, this gazebo spurts upwards like one of the tree's many blooms latticed in the roots and boughs. The soft scent of honeysuckle floats upon the breeze from the open glass panes, where natural light gently smoothes across the gazebo. Some of the lower branches are fashioned as places where garden tools are hung, ready for all seasons of work. A square planter's bed is placed in the centre of the gazebo, stacked three layers high - housing many little seedlings just waiting to be planted. Allowing the tools to be easily in reach, some of the boughs around the planter lead up to a low platform where pillows, rugs, and shawls are draped across its bark-like floor.
    You see a single exit leading out.

    Ellindel amongst the bluebells.
    Thin petaled buds of bluebells slowly spread in awakened life, breaking through the melting snow as they absorb as much light possible within the shroud of the shelter of ancient oak trees here. Like little floating willowisps, the newborn growth has left the blossoms to reclaim the gravel path built around them, forming broadly into a trifold-knotwork path ensnared by their young beauty. At the centre of this path, two sacred moonhart trees are entwined in a loving embrace, their boughs fresh with silvery leaves. Nearby, a pool of glimmering water can be found, its surface cracked like a mirror as the ice breaks away and dissolves. A statue of a robed woman stands beneath a veil of moss, holding aloft a crystal dagger of dancing blue flames.
    You see exits leading east, southeast, and south.

    statue of Ellindel:
    Formed of flowing, translucent crystal, the life-size figure of a robed woman stands here upon a pedestal. The hood of the robe is pushed back to reveal a determined expression upon her regal face. She holds aloft a long crystal dagger, glittering amethysts set upon its hilt. Tiny wisps of blue flame lick along sigils incribed upon the dagger.

    Beneath a vaulted, ivy-snared bower.
    The distant sound of chimes invokes a sense of otherworldliness here. Fuzzy honey-bees buzz to themselves as they search for new blooms upon this archway wreathed in fresh ivy tangled with delicate lilies, snapdragons, and roses that bud and blossom to life with each passing moment. Several dangling lengths of ivy trail down to the ground where the white gravel path melds into soft beds of new grown moss that bask beneath the panes above, which thrum with gold pulses through the Ambervault, winking in and out like trails of faerie dust.
    You see exits leading south, southwest, west, and in.

    The Pavilion of the Vates Arboreal.
    This hexagonal three-tiered pavilion is an austere vision of nature reclaimed, inlaid with raw jade tiles on its curved roofs that end in glistening vaults that reflect the amber dome beyond. Four silver-white pillars support the structure above, to the amber mosaic that is embedded within the marble floor. Hovering moon lanterns of gilt silver hover in the open space before the ceiling, casting a stately glow as they move about with the errant breezes that buffer the building. Surrounded by willow and cherry blossom trees, their boughs are always swaying alongside the pavilion casting petals and leaves about the space. Hanging upon a filigreed rafter, silver and amber-glass chimes stir and sway here by the faintest of breezes.
    You see a single exit leading out.

    chimes:
    Relatively minimalistic in design, these chimes are threaded together by a fine silk ribbon that trails between them in textured tendrils. The bulk of the instrument are silver tubes that spiral conically toward the floor. Each are a finger's length a part, providing just enough distant so they do not clamor and clank obnoxiously, but instead produce sweet, different notes and sounds. Within the heart of this silver helix are amber discs engraved with the phases of the moon on one side and a stag's profile on the other; like a suncatcher, they reflect whatever light befalls upon them in iridescent patterns.

    Glinshari beside an apple tree.
    An orchard of harvests yet-to-be, the air is fragranced with young apple blossoms and old wood. One towering apple tree rests in the centre of an overgrown path, where new moss and thin grasses scatter throughout the area. Old, rime-covered trails to the apple tree can be seen upon the ground, reminiscent of white fingers running along the earth. Other downed apple trees reappear as saplings through some of the grasses, searching for light to strengthen their branches. Cornflowers, chicory and sage burst through the icy soil near the tree's roots, awakening from a long winter's rest. A statue of a leaf-cloaked man stands beneath drooping branches, leaning on a great cudgel of glimmering green light.
    You see exits leading north, west, and northwest.

    statue of Glinshari:
    Formed of flowing translucent crystal, the life-size figure of a leaf-cloaked man stands here upon a pedestal. He looks into the distance with an expression of hope, long hair draped down his back. He leans upon a great cudgel of knotted wood that bursts with plant-life: buds, flowers and tender tendrils made of carven emeralds and other bright gems. Tiny motes of green light float off from the cudgel, surrounding it in a buzzing, verdant glow.

    A coppice of tended saplings.
    A white gravel path weaves around many young saplings budding with new leaves in this space here, where dark, rich soil is piled about their eager roots, newly thawed. An amber glow perpetually washes the trees from the panels of the vault above, where specks of faerie dust mix among the sun-like spots on the smallest leaves of the coppice. Stems of living bamboo form an interconnecting water system along the roots of the trees, harvesting what moisture there is in the air to leave the climate here pleasantly warm despite the nip of last frosts. 
    You see exits leading east and in.

    Gleaming and towering seedvaults.
    Tall pillars of shining amber rise to support the curved roof of the interior of this small shelter; gleaming gently, they turn any light that passes through them into a delicious shade of honeyed gold. Small inclusions run through the pillars, which, on closer examination, are revealed to be seeds, perfectly preserved within the resinous substance. Pressed against the latticed, amber-paned walls, a table and several bookshelves find their home too, all heavily weighted with tomes of meticulous records about each and every seed. Underfoot, an enchanted carpet of lush grass welcomes any weary feet interested in investing time here.
    You see a single exit leading out.

    - through the rift to ethereal -

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    The coming of autumn.
    Leaves of many colours swirl here beneath trees slender and tall, eternally blown about by a scented breeze that brings the odour of harvest and dying foliage, collecting on the ground in a plush layer of greens, browns, reds, yellows, and oranges. The air is cool and crisp, with a beginning nip of frost. Great limbs spring from the white-barked trees, some still full of vibrance and colour, others almost bare of their coverings, stark against the clear sky. Smaller saplings and bushes also spring forth in bright oranges and golden yellows, some bearing bright red berries, heavy on the branches and ready for harvest. Hints of small creatures dart about among the white trunks and leaves, continually collecting nuts and sustenance in preparation for colder climes to come. Breaking into mellifluous song, a yellow-breasted song sparrow flits between the ethereal branches.
    You see exits leading northeast, southeast, and through a dimensional rift.

    Winter dreams.
    Unbowed, unbent, and unbroken, colossal trees hewn of blue ice tower overhead as sentinels whose lofty eminence recalls noble Wildewoods clad in frosted verdure. Great limbs spring from the mighty tree trunks, reaching skyward in spirited yearning. Foliage wrought of frozen moonlight adorn the soaring branches and boles stained with caught starlight together bathe the grove in a spectral radiance. No two leaves or flowers are alike for indeed each blade and bloom in sight, though shorn from the same argent lustre, bears singular designs seemingly plucked from the fickle dreams of snowflakes. Frozen fractals float in the air, seemingly arrested mid-fall or perhaps falling infinitely slowly towards the cottony snow drifts blanketing the ground.
    You see exits leading southeast and southwest.

    Springtide's promise.
    Drops of dew and mist rest, glittering, on a field of young, verdant shoots that bend to some unseen breeze. Patches of golden, bell-shaped plants leap up on stems of fresh green, welcoming the buds of treeflowers and tenders leaves that struggle their way out from the bare branches above. An emerald tangle of tendrils wreath the grey-barked sentinels that ring the field, bearing the star-shaped leaves of vines that grow voraciously in the crisp and damp air, which still bears a hint of sharp frost. The smell of rich loam rises from the soft soil, mingling with the everchanging scents of wildflowers that burst into bloom here and there, only to shed their petals and fade, leaving a scatter of brilliant colours on the seeded ground. Borne aloft by phantom winds, a sibylline seed turns and spins freely in mid-air.
    You see exits leading southwest and northwest.

    the seed (yes, "that" seed):
    Roughly oval in shape, this seed would fit nicely within the hollow of a palm if it were not hovering effortlessly in mid-air. The bulk of its seedcoat is generally smooth in texture and takes the colour of raw earth; riddled upon its surface is a complex network of paler markings that merge into enigmatic, ever-shifting lettering. A lick of light suffuses the seed with a gentle, opalescent glow, and save for these more miraculous features, the seed seems relatively ordinary.

    An ethereal summerland.
    All is a blaze of emerald under a heavy, humid heat, the trees filtering the brilliant light from above, so that everything beneath the canopy is splashed with a mottled pattern of verdant and dark, bending with the movement of branches that hold great, wide leaves. Lazy motes of golden brightness, like puffs of seeds or small insects, float almost at a standstill in the thick air, winking in and out of sight without cease in the relative darkness under branches. A distance away, a dark pile of clouds rises in the sky, ever rumbling with the charged hint of thunder and rain that never quite falls. Nearby, a wide meadow of green grass grows tall and thick, dotted with amber tufts of grains and a spread of lavender coloured flowers that take flight at the slightest touch. Breaking into mellifluous song, a yellow-breasted song sparrow flits between the ethereal branches.
    You see exits leading northeast and northwest.

    the sparrow:
    A fragile creature of bone and feather, this tiny sparrow is agile as she flits from place to place, never seeming to settle somewhere long. Her bold plumage is yellow on her underbelly and crest, and it deepens into a dappled brown with streaks of black and white upon her wings. Flaring behind her, the bird's tail is pennon-shaped, boasting the same mottled colours of her wings. When the sparrow opens her beak, she spills forth a series of melodic tweets which converge into a charming song. She is called 'Aurai.'
  • KerithKerith
    edited May 2017
    Lehki said:
    I'll share Sowers when I home later, but I'm now wondering if any other guild halls have pergolas. I had never even heard that word till I looked at one of our rooms that had a bunch of them, and now Aerie lobby has a pergola room too.
    Ours does too. Curious!
  • RancouraRancoura the Last Nightwreathed Queen Canada
    edited May 2017
    Hoaracle said:
    Everiine said:

    The guildleader (Wyldewald) can decide to move the whole camp from the northern part of the Serenwilde to the southern part and vice versa.. Since we don't have a guildleader yet, I don't know how that changes the layout or look of the camp. But yeah, the whole thing just packs up and moves.
    Unfortunately, the layout doesn't change (we don't have a proggable way to do maps, because the map system is kind of a punk); however, yes, both the camp changes descriptions between Northern and Southern Serenwilde. Admittedly, the changes are superficial - they aren't dramatic redesigns of the room, but they signify that the camp is in a different place. In a similar fashion, the Sower's guildhall changes its descriptions (roughly) every season.
     Not going to lie, this is what I immediately pictured after reading that line.

    https://youtu.be/-p0zMJKPs-Y?t=6 

    Tonight amidst the mountaintops
    And endless starless night
    Singing how the wind was lost
    Before an earthly flight

  • KerithKerith
    Hoaracle said:
    Everiine said:

    The guildleader (Wyldewald) can decide to move the whole camp from the northern part of the Serenwilde to the southern part and vice versa.. Since we don't have a guildleader yet, I don't know how that changes the layout or look of the camp. But yeah, the whole thing just packs up and moves.
    Unfortunately, the layout doesn't change (we don't have a proggable way to do maps, because the map system is kind of a punk); however, yes, both the camp changes descriptions between Northern and Southern Serenwilde. Admittedly, the changes are superficial - they aren't dramatic redesigns of the room, but they signify that the camp is in a different place. In a similar fashion, the Sower's guildhall changes its descriptions (roughly) every season.
    SWEET! I was wondering about that. I noticed it was quite wintry when I first saw it, but then I wasn't sure because it was technically Early Spring... Can't wait to see the awesome changes!
  • LehkiLehki
    edited May 2017
    Kerith and Hoaracle beat me to it!  I think the seedvault room is my favorite one, conceptually. It's also the namesake of our guildhall, The Ambervault. And I was also wondering about the season change and so glad to see suspicions were right! Did miss one thing!

    You say, "Fa cilaonen ma'Laes Anas'im."

    As you say aloud the Fae incantation, the Wheel Gate suddenly catches ablaze with colourful 
    faeriefire and allows you passage into the Ambervault. You spare a glance behind you, and 
    miraculously, the Gate reforms anew: its cinders swirling into solid structure once more.

    Passing through the Wheel Gate. (road).
    Impeding access back into the verdant forest beyond, the Wheel Gate stands resolutely.
    You see a single exit leading northeast.

    You say, "Fa tilaoren ma'Laes Anas'im."
    As you say aloud the Fae incantation, the Wheel Gate suddenly catches ablaze with colourful 
    faeriefire and allows you passage back into Serenwilde. You spare a glance behind you, and 
    miraculously, the Gate reforms anew: its cinders swirling into solid structure once more.

    Have to recite a tongue twisting fae phrase to get in/out. 
  • KerithKerith
    Lehki said:
    Kerith and Hoaracle beat me to it!  I think the seedvault room is my favorite one, conceptually. It's also the namesake of our guildhall, The Ambervault. And I was also wondering about the season change and so glad to see suspicions were right! Did miss one thing!

    You say, "Fa cilaonen ma'Laes Anas'im."

    As you say aloud the Fae incantation, the Wheel Gate suddenly catches ablaze with colourful 
    faeriefire and allows you passage into the Ambervault. You spare a glance behind you, and 
    miraculously, the Gate reforms anew: its cinders swirling into solid structure once more.

    Passing through the Wheel Gate. (road).
    Impeding access back into the verdant forest beyond, the Wheel Gate stands resolutely.
    You see a single exit leading northeast.

    You say, "Fa tilaoren ma'Laes Anas'im."
    As you say aloud the Fae incantation, the Wheel Gate suddenly catches ablaze with colourful 
    faeriefire and allows you passage back into Serenwilde. You spare a glance behind you, and 
    miraculously, the Gate reforms anew: its cinders swirling into solid structure once more.

    Have to recite a tongue twisting fae phrase to get in/out. 
    Thanks, Lehki. I wasn't sure if that part was supposed to be included here. :blush:
  • LehkiLehki
    Kerith said:
    Lehki said:
    Kerith and Hoaracle beat me to it!  I think the seedvault room is my favorite one, conceptually. It's also the namesake of our guildhall, The Ambervault. And I was also wondering about the season change and so glad to see suspicions were right! Did miss one thing!

    You say, "Fa cilaonen ma'Laes Anas'im."

    As you say aloud the Fae incantation, the Wheel Gate suddenly catches ablaze with colourful 
    faeriefire and allows you passage into the Ambervault. You spare a glance behind you, and 
    miraculously, the Gate reforms anew: its cinders swirling into solid structure once more.

    Passing through the Wheel Gate. (road).
    Impeding access back into the verdant forest beyond, the Wheel Gate stands resolutely.
    You see a single exit leading northeast.

    You say, "Fa tilaoren ma'Laes Anas'im."
    As you say aloud the Fae incantation, the Wheel Gate suddenly catches ablaze with colourful 
    faeriefire and allows you passage back into Serenwilde. You spare a glance behind you, and 
    miraculously, the Gate reforms anew: its cinders swirling into solid structure once more.

    Have to recite a tongue twisting fae phrase to get in/out. 
    Thanks, Lehki. I wasn't sure if that part was supposed to be included here. :blush:
    Probably still need to be sowers for the phrase to work so no need to keep it secret oocly, I think.
  • StratasStratas
    I mean, I knew it was going to happen, but damn. You so lucky. That's pretty much everything I dreamed of v_v
    The purpose of writing is to inflate weak ideas, obscure pure reasoning, and inhibit clarity. With a little practice, writing can be an intimidating and impenetrable fog!
  • XenthosXenthos Shadow Lord
    A living cavern of thorns and vines.
    Behemoth roots overrun the southern exit, spilling haphazardly into this cavern before plunging deep into the black earth and leaving broken craters in their wake. Fractured stone and upturned soil at every edge of the cavern mark the resurgence of the same roots, now rising skyward to form towering trunks, creating the stifling walls of this chamber. Decayed plant-litter covers the wide expanse of open ground between the titanic roots, muffling the sound of footsteps. Overhead, a dome-shaped canopy of monstrous thorn vines and sturdy branches weave together, creating a living, ever-evolving cavern. The shifting canopy rustles and whispers, the wood rasping and grumbling as it stretches beyond its natural means. With any movement in the cavern however, the vines' crepitations fall expectantly quiet. Thick shadows pervade the area, untouched by even the weak points of light that manage to pierce the dense foliage. The sepulchral darkness brings with it a creeping chill and the aroma of decaying plant-life and roses.

    The centre of a thorn-laden hedge maze.
    Enormous, protruding roots and thick vines spiral outward from the centre of this living cavern, creating a pattern upon which all other elements of this space build - black feathers twist downward from a canopy of ravenwood leaves, waving idly in a breeze all their own, strands of thick webbing stretch across fallen leaves, holding them in a constant state of falling, and what should be a fertile landscape for underbrush to grow is choked by a dense layer of rotting foliage. Flashes of shadowfire erupt in bursts, creating a purple glow to illumine this area, adding thicker darkness to the avenues leading outward, away from this place.

    Knotted branches of ravenwood fronds.
    As if the tree itself wishes to stop travelers here, knotted roots extend upwards from swells of upturned soil, creating an imposing tangle that abruptly ends this section of the maze. At the center of the living wall, several thick roots stand out from the rest, leveling off three feet from the ground to create a natural altar. Evenly spaced around their base rest a steel bardiche, an ebon lute, a set of onyx handled nekai, a wooden cudgel, and a shadowy athame. The roots have begun to grow around and incorporate each of them, their original forms slowly melting away beneath bark and vines. A deep impression in the center of the altar carries a thin, rust-red residue in the bottom that the voracious thornvines have eagerly sunk stem roots into before scaling further up the wall to entangle the peculiar collection that has been tucked carefully into the knots and gaps in the roots of the wall. A leather vest tooled with moonhart leaves drapes over one root, its material already decaying and giving root to more vines that then spread out to wrap their razored thorns around a set of discarded wedding bands and a tiara set with diamond stars before crushing one particularly fragile crystal into glittering shards. As the vines climb higher, their seeking tendrils bind dozens more disparate items to the tree, from the porcelain head of a viscanti doll that has otherwise already been consumed by the vines surrounding it, to an ancient baton of office, to a small glass case covered in circular cracks holding a single red glowing eyeball that swivels to meet any eye that looks at it. Anywhere an offering has not already been placed, the vines draw back, waiting. Settled amongst the treasures both valuable and mundane are the occasional crow feathers, and several of the piles look scattered, as if they have been pecked through for anything of value.

    Low-hanging crow feathers.
    Overhead the vines and branches tangle together tightly once more, creating a living ceiling. Carefully shielded by frosted glass etched with webs, a series of lamps hung delicately from branches around the room provide light bright enough to read by. Enmeshed within thornvines along the eastern wall, several large terrariums proudly display their contents or stand empty and waiting. In one, a small stoat probes through the short Moors grasses filling its cage before peering curiously at those outside, its eyes flashing with an eerie red light. The grass is sickly and yellow except for a few patches marked by dark purple veins. In another, a clearly dead nehvgree has been dissected and arranged to allow examination of the amalgam of wyrden flora and fauna that make up the arachnoid creature. Opposite the terrariums stand several polished worktables, well-used and covered with sundry works-in-progress. Papers and charts stack high on one, with beetle-carved weights holding flat an intricate map of the forest and a drawing of the bones and muscles of a bat's wing. Behind them, a hive-like arrangement of hexagonal shelves holds more papers and tools, from a peg key to tune instruments to a set of fine scalpels. The final wall is taken up by chairs and couches arranged around a series of bookshelves so covered in rustling, dense vines that it appears made entirely up of them.

    A gnarled, exposed root.
    A wooden windchime hangs from a branch here, marking the transition where the ground begins to slope downward, exposing runs of thick, gnarled roots that jut outward, as if they intended to find more soil and met the air instead. Stalks of ravenwood seedlings protrude from the side of this recess in the ground, reaching skyward in perfect health despite the tremendous lack of available light. One long, gnarled root separate from the rest of the maze grows along the ground, the clear progenitor of the seedlings. It moves every so often, its bulk stretching and digging deeper into the earth. An intermittent breeze passes in and out of the area in a steady rhythm, stirring the solid wooden chimes into an unnerving clicking reminiscent of a deathwatch beetle.

    Within Rotbark's canopy.
    Muted flashes of wyrden fire illuminate the dense canopy of this wyrdenwood. Thick ravenwood leaves grow across gnarled, laced-together branches, creating a floor upon which to walk comfortably. Dense vines arch down from the tallest branches above and fall away to the ground below, mirroring the cascading growth of willow trees. Silver webs twist in cunning patterns between them, in which hang cocooned prey that traveled too close to the centre of this maze. Past the vines, the full of Glomdoring can be seen spreading across the land from horizon to horizon. To the north, the thick tree-cover parts for the Black Tower and to the east the sharp rocks of the chasm cut through the forest. Due west, swampland skirts the forest's edge as the Glomdoring River wends towards the Gloriana. Between the swamp and Rotbark, the twin sentinel of the Master Ravenwood rises in imperious majesty to meet and exceed Rotbark's tremendous height.

    Within the heart of the Glomdoring.
    An enormous cavern opens up deep beneath the maze. The walls are natural in origin, tall in height and circular in shape, and have been broadened by mortal hands. Rent through the loamy ground, a jagged crack -- its sharp edges new and raw -- allows a viscous mixture of blood, sap, and shadows to flow upward to form a deep pool. A heavy thudding, felt as much as heard, emanates from within the restless liquid, causing a steady rippling to expand outward from its centre. A thick root plunges downward from the ceiling and grows through the chamber, arching its way around the pool before sliding into its depths. Around it, a riotous array of fauna has grown, thick and treacherous to traverse, thriving off of the power emanating from below instead of trying to rely on the sunlight that is foreign to this place.

    image
  • ElironEliron
    edited June 2018

    Xenthos said:

    AWESOME NEW GUILDHALL DESIGN
    Squee! I'm so excited to see our edits in!

    Also, many thanks to @Kalaneya for her help with polishing these up.
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