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The Mycenaissance Ever have a fantastic idea for a story or piece of art that you just never got around to writing or making? Have you ever started a sketch or scratched out a few sentences only to slap that WIP sign on it and never look at it again? It’s all too easy to let projects and ideas fall to the wayside when we get distracted or busy. The objective of this activity is to continue to foster your creative productivity by providing monthly prompts that will help you create profiles, design art, and develop your characters. We offer an incentive system to provide you that little extra boost of motivation you may need to get things going. Sometimes all you need to finish a project is the drive to sit down and start it! Each month, we will do our best to respond in some way to every submission. While we are unable to provide in-depth critiques for all of your work, we hope that our comments will assure you that your entries are both read and appreciated. There are so many players on Mycena Cave interested in character development and creativity—we love to see all the interesting things you come up with! With the revitalization of the Mycenaissance, we will be introducing a different staff guest judge with each new prompt to help us go over entries and select a monthly spotlight winner. You will also notice some fun changes to the prize system! Monthly Spotlight With our goal of encouraging creativity, we wanted an opportunity to share your accomplishments with the community — to show you off a little! Every month, our guest judge will be helping us select one submission that we feel really shines. The spotlight itself is fairly informal — there are no specific criteria that we are looking for beyond creativity and effort. In addition, being awarded the spotlight does not remove you from the monthly raffle drawing. Prizes The Mycenaissance will have three different types of prizes associated with it. These prizes will be given out on the first of every month, when the new month’s prompt is released.
The raffle will be pulled, the spotlight will be posted, and the prizes will be distributed for the previous month on the 1st of each new month. The new monthly prompt will also go up at this time. Rules & Requirements 1. In order to have your entry counted toward the raffle and the spotlight, you must ensure that it is complete. Remember to read the prompt carefully and double check your work! 2. To be eligible for the raffle and participation prize, we do expect to see a reasonable amount of effort displayed. Ideally, we would like you to spend about 30 minutes on your entries. You do not need to be skilled at art, drawing, or crafting in order for your entry to be eligible.
3. Only one submission per player will be counted for entry into the raffle. 4. Submissions must be entirely new work. We will not be accepting old writing or art. If we find that you are circumventing this rule, you may be barred from entering the Mycenaissance again in the future. 5. Submissions (or links to them) must be posted in this thread. Your entry must be visible somewhere; whether plainly posted in this thread, tucked away in a musings thread, or displayed on a pet profile. 6. All submissions must have an on-site representation of the character used. It’s okay to write about a custom that you don’t have quite yet (as long as it is coming relatively soon), but you may not write about strictly off-site characters. Your characters do not have to fit into the Mycena Cave canon. Please be sure to clearly indicate which character it is you’re using to respond to the prompt. 7. Submissions must be received by 23:59 ST on 28th day of the month. Current Prompt
Posted 01/06/16, edited 08/01/17
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May Spotlight This month’s spotlight is awarded to FlyingSquirrely! The full submission is quoted below, but you may also read it in its original post here.
Previous Prompts & Spotlights Prompt:
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Spotlight: January’s Spotlight champion is Robin! The full submission is quoted below, but you may also read it in its original post here.
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Submissions: 1. Loon Spotlight: This month’s spotlight goes to Nephele for Ryan’s letter to Gabriel! The full submission is quoted below, but you may also read it in its original post here.
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Spotlight: This month’s spotlight goes to esque’s submission! :) Esque, please let us know which of the March OotS items (Immortal Mask or Shining Glaive) you would like as your prize and we’ll have it sent over ASAP! The full submission is quoted below, but you may also read it in its original post here.
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Spotlight: This month’s spotlight is awarded to DelightfulDragon‘s submission! :D The full submission is quoted below, but you may also read it in its original post here.
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Spotlight: This month’s spotlight is awarded to Cien‘s submission! The full submission is quoted below, but you may also read it in its original post here.
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Spotlight: This month’s spotlight is awarded to Schefflera‘s submission! Schefflera, please let us know which of June’s OotS items (Aphid Friends or Diaphanous Wings) you would like for your prize! The full submission is quoted below, but you may also read it in its original post here.
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Spotlight: This month’s spotlight is awarded to Miremel‘s submisson! The full submission is quoted below, but you may also read it in its original post here.
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Spotlight: This month’s spotlight is awarded to raus’s submission! The full submission is quoted below, but you can also read it in its original post here.
WHOOPS we lost the prompt - pending!
The Spotlight: This month’s spotlight is awarded to Jacq’s submission! The full submission is quoted below, but you can also read it in its original post here.
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1. jenny151618 Spotlight: This month’s spotlight is awarded to azurrys’ submission. The full submission is quoted below, but you may also read it in its original post here.
Was a contest, no spotlight!
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1. Hyasynthetic Spotlight: This month’s spotlight is awarded to Losty‘s submission! The full submission is quoted below, but you may also read it in its original post here.  The porch swing creaked quietly as Delilah stood up. She’d been meaning to ask her grandmother about the brewing of one particular charm and she could hear her slow, shuffling footsteps moving about the kitchen. Leaving the heavy spellbook outside on the swing— it would always come home unharmed— she headed indoors. The wind was starting to blow over the cornfields anyway, and she was beginning to get a little chilled. On her way back, she picked up the little bowl near the bottom of the porch steps; it was running low on milk and she wanted to refill it. The field mice always brought her news and occasionally supplies when they were bribed. The kitchen fan whirred quietly overhead as Delilah walked into the kitchen. Outside the window, in the gathering dusk, she could see the very edges of the fields and the arrow-straight stretch of road that bordered them. Just at the corner of the window, almost completely hidden behind the rather gnarled oak tree, was one of the signs ubiquitous to this part of the country, reminding them all that “Hell is Real.” Having seen it all her life, learning to spell out the words from her great-aunt Eulalie’s lap, there was something strangely comforting in it. The women of her family had lived in this sprawling, somewhat ramshackle old house for longer than anyone cared to remember, their wards buried in the earth surrounding the four points of its foundation. Of course boy-children are sometimes born to them, and they’re loved just as much as the girls, but they never seem to stay past adulthood, heading off to the coasts and the cities as though the wind has blown them away like chaff. They send postcards and rare ingredients and they’ve all inherited the gift in their own way just as much as the girls have, but they’re not tied to the land. Delilah doesn’t envy them their rootlessness, especially not with the safety and sense of community that was to be found at home. Here, she knew, there was always someone to turn to. The room was warm and richly scented. Pork roasting, probably pork that had been bartered to the family from one of the surrounding neighbors. The kitchen was very often a focal point in the house, where people tended to converge. The proverbial heart of the home was indeed their modern version of the hearth; there were reasons for some of what was said of witches, Delilah supposed. Taking in a deep breath, she stepped around the heavy carved table. Her grandmother was enscounced in the big armchair tucked into one corner of the kitchen, out of the way but well-positioned to see everything that was happening in the big room, doing something complicated with lace-weight yarn. Delilah watches for a moment or two, curious and eager, always, to learn. But she knows that the potion in question needs to be brewed during the waning moon, so it needed to get done. Still, it takes time to coax her grandmother into heaving herself out of the chair. Grandma, who moves with the speed of a rattlesnake strike when riled, frets and grumbles about her old bones and refuses to be budged until Delilah starts making noises about asking Great-Aunt Eulalie to help her instead. At that point, Grandma’s out of the chair like a shot. She stomps to the stove, still muttering under her breath, then stops beside it, one ham-hock-sized hand resting on her hip. “You have the makings?” “Yes, Gran,” Delilah says, and goes to get them. Bringing them back quickly, she laid them out, along with everything she’d need to combine them. This particular potion was particularly tricky in that it needed to be put together cold, and heated up after. Quickly grinding together the dry ingredients in her mortar and pestle, pouring them into the black bowl she’d laid out to hold it all, she held her breath as she poured in the liquid to distill it all and just as carefully stirred, her grandmother’s work-roughened fingers at her elbow. Leaning back a little, she watched it carefully it a second or two. If it was gonna explode, she didn’t want to get a face-full. When it seemed to stay inert and safe, she carefully transfered it into the little pot, putting it on the stove to heat. There was a pot of dumplings on another burner, cheerfully bubbling away, but she ignored that. She needed to focus. The charm was kind of an ominous color, a deep dark red. She turned the heat up a little, needing it to reduce for it to be effective. But she was still worried that it would all somehow go sideways. Her grandmother nudged her gently, reminding her that sometimes, in moments like these, potions-work was almost indestinguishable from cooking and Delilah was proficient enough at that, stop fretting. For all that her words were harsh, her hands as they made minute adjustments, remained gentle. The potion remained stubborn and unchanging for a while, but she knew sometimes it just took patience. As they both stood over the stove, waiting for the potion to start to cook down, occasionally giving it a gentle stir, they chatted idly. Other family members drifted in and out of the room, some pausing to look over their shoulder, her aunt coming by specifically to check on the dumplings and announcing they’d soon be done. It was nice, Delilah thought, to be surrounded by so much family, and most of the time they even got along. There was so much magical talent in this family, nurtured and cultivated and passed back and forth like recipes and hand-me-down clothes. She was almost never at a loss for any length of time, since there was always someone willing to help. And being able to get a hug any time she wanted was pretty great, she wasn’t gonna lie. The next time she stirred her charm, making sure nothing stuck to the bottom, it suddenly and visibly reacted. A little puff of smoke rose like a miniature mushroom cloud, and it began to get darker and thicker, coagulating a little like blood. Delilah grinned and continued to stir it gently, though she switched her movements to stir it widdershins. It had reduced considerably in a short amount of time. Even the foam looked different, changing then melting into the body of the liquid. When Grandmother touched her shoulder, she pulled it quickly off the heat and poured it into the little vial she’d had standing by. It was a little bit of a struggle to stopper it and seal it up without burning her fingers, but it had to be done while it was hot or the charm would lose all effectiveness. Still, when it was all finished, she fished an oven mit out of the drawer and held it up to the light. It was perfect. Now she had everything she needed for her ritual. She leaned down, pressing a heartfelt kiss to her grandmother’s cheek. “Thank you, Gran.” Prompt:
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1. Loon Spotlight: This month’s spotlight is awarded to Jacq‘s submission! The full submission is quoted below, but you may also read it in its original post here.  “There are things in the dark,” Mrgl said, waving her spiderlegs at the sprouts gathered around her. Their eyes were wide with attention and a little bit of fear. “More things than you can even imagine. Some are dangerous and some are fearsome, but some are small and timid and as afraid of the light as you are of the night. But if you listen carefully,” She put a paw to her lips, making the universal “shh” gesture, “If you learn to listen, to hear their mind and heart and allow your own to be heard in turn, you might find a friend!” Shifting from foot to foot to foot to foot to foot to foot, Mrgl danced lightly around the sprouts, leading them through the village and singing her teaching songs of darkness and night. The songs named the mushrooms and creatures and smells of the darkness, full of clever mnemonics for wayfinding and reminders of which things were dangerous and which were good to eat or talk to. A huge, grand old kelph covered in foliage and glittering forest magic slithered from the village pond to watch the procession. With a laugh of greeting, Mrgl skittered up their branches, using her webbing to swing from ivy to antler to branch and back again, before sliding down the old kelph’s tail, followed by the very bravest sprouts while the others watched in awe. “Thank you, esteemed forest spirit,” Mrgl began solemnly, her eyes glittering with laughter even if her words rung with serious ceremony, “I am indebted to your eternal wisdom, and am ever grateful for your invitation to orate. What songs of wisdom I may deliver unto our youth are paltry, but they are given with a happy heart.”  “Indeed.” The kelph nodded to Mrgl, voice equally formal and eyes equally glad, “We are thankful for your unique teachings and gift of eloquence, for no formal education can be complete without knowledge of the night. Go well, princess of spiders.” Mrgl bowed once more to the ancient kelph, then continued her dance through the village. Her tail held high, the red hourglass on its underside glittering in the torchlight like a beacon, she hopped and skipped from house to house. She was greeted everywhere with warm smiles and laughter. Many parents and other ineki and drasilis came out and clapped in time to her songs, singing along at the choruses. She greeted and bowed to each one in turn, delivering the children home from their lessons, accepting small gifts and packages of food from the grateful parents. Something in the caves high above shifted with a distant rumble, diverting an underground stream and causing the slow water to find a new path of least resistance. That path happened to culminate in a tiny crack on the ceiling of a cavern. The water beaded, growing slowly until it became a big fat droplet, its own weight finally causing it to drop onto a small furry head with a splat.  Mrgl startled awake, blinking blearily into the darkness. She was still trying to find the thing that woke her when another fat drop landed wetly on her muzzle. She shook her head and danced away, pawing at her face. “Oh bother this damp,” she said, “it’s ruined a perfectly good dream!” At least, that’s what she said in her mind. What came out was a grumbling moan that sounded a bit like “grrrrshhh drrrmp” and a low hiss. She ran her too-big tongue over her too-big fangs. She opened her mouth to yawn, the pedipalps nesting inside her cheeks uncurling to wave and taste the air. She sighed, and the cavern echoed emptily with even that small noise. A damp draft blew through, ruffling her fur and making her shiver all over. With the ghost of the dream’s thrall in her still, she took a few small steps towards a corridor, almost invisible at the edge of the cavern. Unused since she came through it years ago, it was the tunnel that led back to the village where she was born. She could almost see herself returning, almost see the warm smiles and hear the laughter… But the sound of one wet drop hitting the floor behind her brought reality flooding back. Torches, flickering and bright, hurting all six of her eyes and casting too many shadows for her to make any sense of the world of light. The voices, talking as if she couldn’t understand them, as if she were deaf instead of mute, saying horrible things to her parents in the house kept dark just for her, nasty threats and lies that they wouldn’t dare whisper in the light of day. And, worst of all, the looks of pity, of resignation, like she couldn’t help but be the monster they assumed she was.  Prompt:
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Spotlight: This month’s spotlight is awarded to Chicken‘s submission! The full submission is quoted below, but you may also read it in its original post here.
Prompt: Current Prompt
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Spotlight: This month’s spotlight is awarded to DelightfulDragon‘s submission! The full submission is quoted below, but you may also read it in its original post here.
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 Congratulations to Vysal, Losty, Ersatz, and SocialBookWorm! Each of you will be receiving a random Cave Capsule shortly, and all participants will receive their 1 gem participation prize. :D The Spotlight: This month’s spotlight is awarded to Azurrys‘s submission! The full submission is quoted below, but you may also read it in its original post here.
After damn near two hours without a customer so much as peeping in, Jonas was this close to giving in to the need for a smoke break. Sure, his boss hated it—or as she put it, “I don’t hire you so you can kill my customers with second-hand smoke!” But the street was empty and Mellie wasn’t around to yell his ear off anyway. One cigarette wouldn’t hurt. Jonas was literal seconds away from lighting up when the sudden chime made him jump, and he dropped his lighter with a clatter and a bitten-off curse. Damn it, he could have sworn the street had been empty! Why were there suddenly customers? Shoving the cigarettes back into his pocket, Jonas straightened up and pasted on his working smile. Just as well that he did, since it managed to keep his jaw from dropping. After two summers working here, Jonas was pretty much used to the same crowd. A small town was a small town was a small town. New residents were big news and tourists never stopped here. So sue him for being surprised when a white-haired dude wearing what looked like whacked out samurai era shit walked in. Because what the fuck? (Sure, the guy next to said white-haired dude was dressed in a jeans and T-shirt, but that wasn’t the point.) As if sensing his shock through his stage smile, the man turned to face him, distracting Jonas briefly when he noticed that the man’s hair practically reached his ass. It was that long. “Hello,” the man greeted, voice smooth and with an accent that Jonas couldn’t quite place. It sounded like textbook nothing. “Do you have Doritos?” Wait, what? Some dude in ancient Japanese clothes walked in and he was asking for Doritos? Jonas was frozen for a moment until a muffled cough broke the silence, and he was suddenly reminded of the presence of Regular McNormal next to weirdo over there. “Um. Second shelf from the left,” he finally answered, pointing towards the shelf. The man nodded to him, leaning down to murmur something in his companion’s ear as they drifted over to the snack shelf. Jonas’s eyes were drawn to the man’s shoes when they clacked on the tiled floor—no, not shoes, sandals. Even his footwear was weird. Or should Jonas call it authentic? Sandals with socks. Jonas was sure there was some Japanese name for it, but for the life of god he couldn’t remember this shit. Jonas tried his best not to stare. He really did. But it wasn’t every day that he got customers dressed in… whatever the hell this guy was wearing. Why was he wearing it, anyway? Oh, wait! Maybe there was some kind of… event? A convention or something? Yeah, that had to be it. Jonas hadn’t heard of anything going on (which he supposed just meant the event wasn’t local, and local events were pipe dreams anyway) but that had to be the reason. “Excuse me.” Blinking, Jonas started slightly when he looked up and inadvertently met the man’s eyes. Oh, shit, when had they walked over? Had he zoned out that badly? “Uh, sorry.” Shaking his head, Jonas started scanning the Doritos, focusing much more on the task than he usually would. “So, uh. Nice costume. Are you cosplaying or something?” There was a beat of silence, and Jonas wondered for a split second if he had to explain how he knew the word ‘cosplaying’ (ex-girlfriend, cross-dressing, memories he didn’t really want to bring up) before the man broke the silence. “Cosplaying?” The reply sounded horrified. Jonas blinked, wondering what he’d said wrong, just before the man leaned over the counter—so close that Jonas went cross-eyed for a moment before he reoriented himself. “This isn’t just a costume. It’s my job. It’s my life! It’s very important to me. You can’t just call it a costume!” “W-what?” Jonas stammered. The man looked dead serious. What the fuck? The hell was wrong with him? Thankfully, the man drew back a little at that, making a sweeping gesture across his clothes before crossing his arms. “My clothes are important,” the man repeated. “This outfit is completely authentic. It’s been blessed by five different Shinto priests, all heads of their temples. I flew around Japan just so I could visit all of them in the correct order, and I had to do it in a day. It’s very important that the blessings are granted on the fifteenth day of the month, you know.” ….What? Jonas’s hand was frozen mid-scan. He couldn’t help it. What exactly was the guy even going on about? “It’s the full moon,” the man continued, nodding sagely. “The balance of the elements is very sensitive to the lunar cycle. Full moons are excellent nights for blessings.” While the man spoke, Jonas couldn’t help but the notice that behind him, his friend’s smile was getting steadily more strained. “Anyway, the point is that you can’t find clothes like mine anywhere else. They’re one of a kind. Wholly unique. An excellent safeguard against nastier spells. You should try to get your clothes blessed sometime.” O… kay. Jonas stared down at the six packs of Doritos on the counter, then to his ratty T-shirt and cargo pants, and then back up at the man. The dude nattering on about full moons and Shinto blessings was buying six packs of Doritos and telling him to bless his I-didn’t-do-laundry clothes. “Uh… I’m sorry,” he tried. “It’s just, you know. We don’t really see clothes like yours around these parts, and then there’s your hair too, and—” “And now my hair as well?” the man cut in, sounding offended. “Is there no end to your rudeness? I’m very old. My hair is white. It’s quite easy to understand, isn’t it? And certainly you don’t have to point it out like that.” Jonas opened his mouth again at that, but no words came out. He snapped it shut, opened it again, then took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry, sir. That’ll be seventeen-twenty, please.” The man let out an almighty huff that could probably be heard all the way in China, but to Jonas’s relief he forked over the money without complaint. He’d been half-expecting the guy to start ranting about the evils of the money system and offer him a chicken or something. Jonas was starting to suspect that his head wasn’t screwed on quite right. “Your change, sir. Thank you for shopping with Mellie’s, have a nice day.” “It’s the new moon tonight,” the man began ominously, but before he could say anything else his companion cut him off. “Thank you, have a nice day too,” he said hastily, snatching up the bags. “Sen, come on, let’s go.” The man—Sen?—gave Jonas a last, grave nod before turning around to follow his companion. Jonas was just about to let out a sigh of relief when Sen spun around, making him jerk back in shock. “Don’t underestimate the power of the blessings! And if you would like to have your clothes blessed, remember that you must start from Kyoto, even though some recommend going from north to south. But the potency—” “Sen!” the sane one hissed, hooking Sen’s arm. This time, Sen was forcibly dragged out of the shop and Jonas couldn’t really say that he felt particularly sorry. The door swung shut behind them with another merry chime, leaving Jonas to stare as they started down the street, six packs of Doritos between them. “God, what a weirdo,” he said aloud. Leaning down, he finally picked up his poor, abandoned lighter, wiping it off on his shirt. He glanced out at the street, wondering if he could catch a last glimpse of the couple, but they’d totally disappeared. Huh. They walked fast. Shaking his head, Jonas flicked his lighter open, digging in his pocket for his cigarettes. He’d deal with Mellie when or if she caught him. Because after that encounter, now he really needed a smoke. “Sen, why do you always have to mess with the shop clerks?” “The looks on their faces whenever I walk in are too priceless. And he practically invited me to with that line of his about cosplaying! You can’t say he wasn’t asking for it.” “No, he really wasn’t. Sen, we’ve gone over this. You shouldn’t do it.” “Why not?” “Well… I don’t know…” “There. I knew you wouldn’t have a reason. Amatsuki, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t mess with the shop clerks and I’ll stop. I swear it.” “How about it’s a waste of your time?” “It most certainly is not. His face when I told him to bless his clothes? I live for moments like that, dear. Have a chip?” “…I give up. Give me that bag and open one of your nacho cheese. The taco is mine.” “I knew you would see it my way.” Prompt:
Submissions:
Spotlight: This month’s spotlight is awarded to FlyingSquirrely! The full submission is quoted below, but you may also read it in its original post here. When you are a being of immense power and measure your lifespan in cosmic decades, rather than solar decades, you have the time to do a great many mortal things. Faye has done a lot. She was a microbe, once. It was incredibly boring, but at least it was over with quickly. A blip in the life of an ineki, not even a measurable quantity in the life of a fae. Being what would later be called dinosaurs was much more fun. She got to stomp around, and when she grinned little things fled from her fanged maw. She played dinosaur many, many times. And then that world exploded. (But not Faye. Made of magic and steeped in void, she watched the sky burn and dissipated to elsewhere, thinking that was that.) She didn’t return until the age of sentients, on a whim, a slither of nostalgia sliding through a rare crack in the nothingness of otherwhere. And these ones, they asked questions, and suddenly living life after life wasn’t so simple anymore. There were names, and family trees keeping careful track of bloodlines, and paperwork. Ugh. Paperwork. Too many oddities and you attracted the wrong kind of attention, from cops to criminals, as Faye discovered (as Maurelle, as Oren, as Shayla). So for every birth and death, she went through the motions. (What’s another child lost to the system? And after the age of stone, another carved free of stasis without record? The cave is kind, but here, too, there is a darkness lurking – another aside from Faye, of course.) And here she is again. Faye Verity is beginning to age. Soon she’ll be unable to perform up to the fitness standards required to keep her qualification as a detective. Her joints are beginning to stiffen and she’s lost much of the flexibility that made her a force to be reckoned with in hand-to-hand. Her mind is as sharp as ever, but she has to squint to keep the letters on her requisition forms from going out of focus. (Glasses are for other people.) It sucks. This has been her favorite life to date. There was so much to it! She was a detective by day, the law in fur and fangs. She was a hero by night, the Dark Fae who ate away at the shadows until dawn poked through. And, oh, how she loved it, no breaks, always on, all the time. In all its vastness, the void could never compare. And now Faye will have to die, because she can’t imagine going out in any way but with a fight. She’s not going to wait for old age (as Tania did – and that had been boring, once was enough). It’s fighting the good fight or nothing. Oh, she’s not going down easy. Faye wants to live as much as anyone, to eke out every scrap of existence that she can from this life, but she refuses to quit. Faye Verity will leave her mark as she lives: an anonymous police officer, meting out justice. But she has something new, this time. The Dark Fae will not die. She has created something, this life. She created things in past lives, too. Books of magic with an otherwhere flair. Little trinkets, with nothing more than a trickle of power, for luck. A myth of twin violet eyes in the dark, scaring monsters out from under children’s beds. But the Dark Fae, that is something that can last. The Dark Fae has no worldly bonds like Faye. She does not need to age, she does not need to pause and resume her existence every half a century. She will not die until heat death, until the universe is ripping itself apart at the seams and there’s too much space between her sparks to hold herself separate from the imperturbable ocean of energy at the end of time. The Dark Fae can last where the myths faded into obscurity; the twin violet eyes reborn, a warning that the dark is full of dangerous things, but not necessarily bad ones. She will continue to protect, where Faye cannot. She can be more than mortal, where Faye cannot. And the life after Faye Verity (Nyx, perhaps) will slip into the role as though she has never been anyone else. So Faye Verity, in her house lit by candlelight, scribbles the last details into her will (…my collection of books to Sheen, my property to Riverstone Park…). She dips her paw into a trough of ink and gathers every last scrap of magic she can touch in her mortal form. With an exhale, she slams her paw onto the paper. Something cold whispers under her paw, so she lifts it away with care, staring at the ink with a critical eye. Aha. Faye warms her paw over a candle and snickers to herself: she hopes no one examines her print too closely, she thinks she can see the emptiness of the void between the ridges of her pawprint, and the void is none-too-kind to the sanity of mortals. Well, no one has ever accused her of being subtle.
Posted 01/06/16, edited 06/01/17
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When specifically will the entries need to be in to be counted- exactly on the last day of the month? Or is there a concrete deadline that doesn’t change? Edit: And do we post them here, or will there be a special forum like other events that need player threads/posts?
Posted 01/09/16, edited 01/09/16
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Roan And yes, you can post your submissions (or a link to them) in this thread. If we end up needing a submission thread or anything down the line, we’ll be sure to let everyone know.
Posted 01/09/16
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Kol had never, if he was honest with himself, expected to live this long. His kind rarely did, with the hunters becoming far more aggressive, stronger and intelligent. Well, as intelligent as a human could be, Kol snickered. Even his Hunter girl, now older and wiser, though still wonderfully cruel and wicked. Not that she would ever admit to it; no one wanted to be a demon, perish the thought. As if mortals didn’t have their own lovely darkness. But, ah, he’d gotten off point, hadn’t he? Shaking his huge head, Kol yawned, exposing large, sharp teeth. Spending time as a canine; well, he’d missed it. And it gave him time to think, like ponder that strange question Hunter had asked him. A stupid, silly little tradition, humans wanting to ‘better themselves’ at the start of a year. A new beginning, and Kol sneered. What did he have to change? He was perfect, superior. Stronger, better and smarter. Powerful. But the question wouldn’t leave him alone, Hunter badgering him with it (and when did she get so bold, and she ignored his insults occasionally. No longer getting as upset so quickly. Pity. Time had changed her so, Kol didn’t know whether he liked it or not just yet) until he, in a fit of annoyance, changed so she no longer could. Rather hard to get answers out of a dog, after all. But now he was bored, and the only thing to entertain him a silly human question. What would he like to do at the start of a year, change himself? Well, no. Kol rather liked himself, thank you. Perhaps get rid of the incessant pain; it would be nice to have a day of not being held back. But, ah, he would never let on to that little bit of information. He would never hear the end of it. Now what else? Happiness, health. Bah, human concerns. He was in peak physical condition, in his prime. Perfect. Happiness, Kol grinned. Well, Hunter was kind enough to give him so many reasons to smile and laugh, such an entertaining human and so very easy to rile if you knew just what to say. Even with her, Kol snorted, attempts at being mature and a role-model to those brats she teaches. Kol hummed, closing his eyes. He would sleep soon enough, after he answered this annoying query of hers. What would he wish for, what would he like to happen, on a new year? Well, he would like to go on more hunts, Kol supposed. Hunter was growing lax in that regard, teaching her priority. Or, maybe, another mystery. Yes, that was it, Kol thought. He just wanted something more, something less boring. He wanted to see and know; he wanted this boredom to leave. He wanted—Kol got up—another of her pathetic adventures where she got into so many hilarious and oh-so tragic dangers and messes. And, even if he had to drag Hunter off kicking and screaming, he’d have one.
Posted 01/12/16
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I actually wrote a thing this time! :D Alice Telire scribbled a list on her tent wall. Her Dad had told her that if she wanted to grow this year, she’d need to write a list of goals for herself to get done. At the end of the year, Newton Yearty would check her list, and depending on whether she’d completed it, he would allow her to grow or not. Alice’s Goals For Newton Yearty:
She nodded to herself. A good list. Things she felt sure could accomplish in a year. She tucked her wand behind her ear and ran out to go find her dad and tell him about her list. He would be so proud of her, and then he’d tell Mr. Yearty every time she accomplished something off the list. (Quick Background for those who don’t know: Alice is a sprout who uses doodle magic. Her mom uses illusion magic, and her dad uses speed magic. They’re a traveling act together.)
Posted 01/13/16, edited 01/13/16
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My entry is on Lily’s page. Combined writing + art. Lily’s dreams of returning to the world outside of the cave were dashed all too soon, leaving her lost, worried, and depressed. After all, caves are limited, aren’t they? Finite. There is always an end somewhere. Others that she met all seemed to have the same slump, but they would always find something. They would start baking, teach children, or even go exploring, the last of which made her wonder; after all, why do something that will inevitably end? What would they do next, when they found that their passion could not last forever? For many more months than her friends she stayed like this. Eventually her thoughts turned productive: Find a way out of the cave. That didn’t work out as well as she’d hoped. Fur limp and unkempt, Lily retreated into herself and away from society. She slunk further into the cave, seeking something—anything—to give her a purpose. It may have been the cave itself. It may have been something in the cave, something mysterious and unknown. It may have been Lily’s own self. Sitting in the dark and looking about in frustration, she flicked her tails—and on flickered a light. More tail flicking—more light flickering. If there was one thing down here without limits, it was magic, and she was ready to explore it.  I started drawing May 2015 and somehow I’ve kept with it. One of my goals for this year is to just keep on improving and not giving up no matter how hard it gets. I’m still at a point where just drawing whatever ends up with me learning new things and improving at a fair pace.
Posted 01/25/16, edited 01/30/16
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It had been so long ago, though I will never forget that retched day for as long as I live. It was the end of my normal life. But…it was the beginning of..of my story. For that, is my purpose for living. A young boy sits, curled up in the corner of a beautiful garden, tears streaming down his face. A woman, his mother, stands at the huge window, curtains pulled back. She is quite beautiful and unmarred by old age. A lone tear trickles down her face. She wipes it away with a corner of the crips white dress she is wearing. She calls a servant over. The servant, mute in tounge, bows and waits for his commands. “Bring me my son.” The woman orders, composing herself. The servant nods, and goes out into the garden, to retrieve the boy. The servant taps the boy on the shoulder. The boy sobs harder. “G-g-go a-aw-away!!” The servant looks back at his mistress, who motions for him to pick up the boy. The servant complies, lifting the boy into his strong arms. Ebony muscles ripple across the servant’s arms and shoulders. He places the boy in front of his mother. “Thank you.” The woman dismisses the servant. “Look at me, my son.” The boy’s mother lifts her son’s face with two polished fingers. The boy looks at his mother with distressed eyes the color of the ocean. A mix of blood and tears streams across his face. “...oh, Cosmos…” The boy’s mother’s eyes fill with tears. She lets them fall. The boy-Cosmos’- face is marred by a trio of jagged wounds, which are streaming blood to no end. “H-he d-did this to m-me.” Cosmos sobs, white shirt stained a bright red. “F-father said I must learn, one way or another.” “We must all obey your father, Cosmos.” The woman hugs her son’s face to her bosom. “He owns us all.” Cosmos pushes away from his mother, blood in his white-blonde hair. “I-I don’t want to b-be ruled by F-father anymore.” Cosmos’ eyes now hold a steely look, like broken seaglass. “Hush, child!” Mother scolds Cosmos, fear present in her voice. “He might hear you!” A menacing laugh fills the large room. “I already have.” A voice as old and rich as time itself comes from nowhere. “Do you really feel that way, boy?” Cosmos stands shakily to his feet. “Y-yes, I do.” Cosmos wipes his face with his sleeve, staining it with even more blood. “I-I vow to kill you, demon or not!” *Caution-slight gore!
Posted 01/25/16
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ha.. ha….... I apologize in advance for the length of this. I got… carried away. A lot. I also wrote a legend version of these characters’ backstory as well as the actual backstory, all during and for this event. I would recommend reading the legend version before the actual entry (the one titled The Legend of Blood and Bloom), but reading the full backstory probably isn’t necessary.
The distant clink of metal on stone prickled around the edge of Alannah’s consciousness. She was drifting through a fog, struggling to remember how she had gotten here. The clink paused and a voice filtered through, as if from a great distance away. “They look ... scared. Am I doing this right?” The voices faded and the clinking resumed - and there was a warmth now too, starting at her center and growing outward. As it reached the tips of her tails the clinking abruptly stopped. “Oh! It’s happening!” the first voice was back, but much louder now, much closer. Alannah struggled to open her eyes as feeling returned to her limbs. She was in a crouched position, leaning forward as if looking at something … Lilura! The memories flooded back and panic swelled in her chest, but her mind raced with confusion. What had happened? The mage must have done something, the charm had failed in the end. She struggled against what she perceived to be magical bonds, finally forcing her eyes open and taking a few wobbling steps. Everything was so blurry, and her legs felt so heavy. She stumbled and fell to her belly, panting and staring wide-eyed. “Easy, easy …” one of the voices she’d heard came from her side and she looked, blinking rapidly while things shifted back into focus. Before her was a slight ineki with large glasses perched on his nose. He was holding a hammer and a chisel, and Alannah recalled the clinking noise. She looked down and around her and saw bits of stone scattered across the floor. Her head spun. She met the ineki’s eyes again. “It’s alright - here, eat, you must be hungry,” he said, setting down his tools and passing her a wooden bowl and spoon. She sat up on her haunches and accepted the bowl, staring into it in disbelief. It was full near to the brim with soup, a thick hearty soup with big chunks of vegetables. It was more food than she’d seen in one place for a long time, and it smelled like a thousand distant memories of better times. Her reverie was broken by a violent growl from her stomach and she started eating - the soup was so good and so warm, she almost missed the other ineki start talking. But what he had to say captured her attention. He began to explain. He started gently, saying she’d been unconscious for a while, that things had changed - the Winter was over. And then he explained the Freeze - the sorceress that turned them all to stone, the caves, the bone monster. He explained the carving. “You’re my first,” he said with a laugh as an older ineki entered the room. “Look, master! This is … uh…” he trailed off, realizing he hadn’t asked. “Alannah.” she said. It was the first thing she’d said since awakening. The elder nodded, smiling. “Well, welcome, Alannah. You were an odd find! sitting at the edge of some pit … “ Alannah’s stomach lurched. Lilura. “Did you find anyone else there?” she asked, voice shaking, “in the pit? The ineki shook their heads, looking concerned. “No, but we didn’t look,” the younger said, “was there someone there?” Alannah nodded, putting the now-empty bowl down and getting to her feet. “I’m sorry - thank you for uh, carving me. But I have to go. Where’s the pit from here?” It would take a day, maybe more, to reach that end of the caves and they were concerned she wasn’t strong enough yet - but she insisted. The directions were complicated and they drew her a map and tucked it in a bag full of supplies. And then she was off, their smiling faces fading into the darkness behind her. Alannah’s head spun. So many years had passed, everyone was gone. Her village was gone, she would never return. Even exile hadn’t hurt like this, she could still see the grey smudge of the settlement in the distance in her mind’s eye - dreaming of returning some day a hero. And where were the villagers now? Had they been carved yet, or were they waiting somewhere in the dark and deep places of the caves? She put those thoughts away for now. She had a long way to go. —- In the end it took her three days to find the pit again, but the journey was not hard. She came across a few little settlements, full of very kind denizens who were only to happy to refill her supplies and waved off her promises to repay them when she was settled. “Things are different now, dearie,” an old woman told her with a smile. “We have more than enough, take what you need and go find your friend.” “She’s not really … my friend,” Alannah stammered and the ineki’s face crinkled into a grin. Alannah was confused by the reaction, but she didn’t realize until she was back on the trail what she must have assumed. Alannah’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment - to think! Someone thought Lilura was, what, her girlfirend? Her mate? No. They were bitter enemies and nothing would change that. She just … needed to find her. The obvious question of why still hung unanswered, but she ignored it and pressed on. The pit was far different than she’d left it. Mushrooms and moss grew thick in patches along the cavern walls and the branches she’d brought in so long ago were crumbling in decay. She crept to the edge and peered over. Wood and stone debris carpeted the pit floor and mushrooms grew thickly. The sheer dirt walls she had dug so carefully were crumbled now and climbing into the pit was simple. She began nosing through the mess, searching for a stone like the one the carvers had described - smooth, and warm. It didn’t take long - it was still relatively where she’d last seen Lilura, but it had fallen over and was coated in moss and dirt. She pawed the moss off it carefully and righted it - feeling an intense wash of emotions. Relief was there, certainly. And trepidation, fear, nervousness. Delight. She let each sensation wash over her, tasting each feeling, chewing it over. Now that she had found her, what was there to be done? She could bury the stone, and let Lilura remain frozen forever. That was her first instinct, and the most enticing option. The blood mage was dangerous, and she didn’t want to let her loose on the cave … but it wasn’t right. Things were different now. Maybe she could change. Alannah sighed and dropped the pack from her shoulder, bending down to root through it. The apprentice stonecarver had given her a hammer and chisel and she picked these up now, eyeing them warily. The stone will speak to you, he’d said. And it did. As she put the chisel to the stone, she heard it sing. It took a further two days to carve the stone, and Alannah was grateful all over again to the generous Mycenians she’d met already, who had filled her bag with supplies. The food was simple, and much of it was mushrooms, but it was food, and it kept her going all through the hard work of carving. It was slow going at first, and Alannah was terrified she would mess something up. But the glowing warmth of the stone guided her hands, and soon she could see Lilura’s form taking shape. Vaguely at first, then the details emerged, and then Alannah suddenly found that what was beneath her paws was no longer stone at all. She gasped and stepped back, watching a ripple pass over the figure, bringing color and life back to the ineki. Lilura took a sharp breath and coughed, took a step and collapsed, panting, blinking rapidly, looking utterly terrified. Alannah wondered if that was how she looked in the stonecarvers’ workshop, and she remembered their gentle words an steadying paws. “Shh, it’s okay,” she whispered and reached forward, placing her paw on her shoulder tentatively. Lilura recoiled from the touch, hissing at the sound of Alannah’s voice, staring with pure aggression as her sight returned to her. “You!” she shrilled, stepping backward with an awkward hop, “what did you do to me?!” Her head swung back and forth as she tried to get her bearings, looking at all the debris and the moss and fungus - how different his world must look, Alannah thought, than where she’d been what felt like only moments ago. “It’s complicated,” Alannah said, reaching behind her for her bag and rummaging for a moment. She found what she was looking for - a strip of dried meat and a handful of mushrooms - and offered these to Lilura. “I swear I’ll explain everything, but you need to calm down.” Lilura snarled and hopped back again, and Alannah realized she was hurt. Her left foot was twisted at an odd angle, and Alannah felt a pang of guilt. It must have been broken when she fell into the pit. “I’m sorry,” she said, “Lilura, I’m so sorry for everything.” She set the food down and took a few steps back, “I won’t come any closer - you can eat the food. There’s tons now. Just please listen to me.” Lilura still looked like she’d rather tear Alannah’s throat out than spend another moment looking at her, but the food had her attention. She limped forward carefully and sniffed it suspiciously. “Fine,” she said, “tell your story.” And so Alannah did, as well as she could remember. She told the story of the sorceress, of the freeze, and the carving. She told her about the stonecutters she’d met, and the settlements she’d been to. The story continued long after Lilura had finished eating, but the blood mage listened raptly. “I know it’s hard to believe …” Alannah said, coming to the end of her story, but Lilura snorted. Alannah’s heart lurched. There it was. The question that had been hanging over her since leaving the stonecutters. Why? “I-I don’t know,” she stammered, “it’s not important, look, things are different now and if you’re going to behave then come with me - we’ll get that foot looked at.” “And what if I don’t behave?” Lilura asked derisively. “Are you going to drop me down another hole? Why should I come with someone who tried to kill me?” “I didn’t try to kill you!” Alannah protested. “You were the one killing people, I just … tried to stop you is all. But they’re all gone now so it doesn’t matter, come on.” “Ooooh, is that what this is?” Lilural smirked - getting to her feet and limping forward, “you’re just lonely?” “That’s ridiculous,” Alannah said but Lilura answered only with a laugh and Alannah had no choice but to follow - watching the enchanted charm swinging from the mage’s tail. They traveled slowly and had to take breaks often for Lilura’s foot, but at last they reached the closest settlement. The old woman Alannah had seen before bustled out to meet them and Alannah blushed deeply. “Oh, you found her!” the woman clapped, then tutted as she looked Lilura over. “Is there a healer here?” Alannah asked and the woman nodded, turning to lead them into the settlement - which was alive with music and voices. Alannah and Lilura both looked about carefully as they walked and the old woman called over her shoulder, “It’s New Year’s Eve! You will stay for the celebrations, won’t you?” —- Hours later found Alannah and Lilura seated together at the edge of a courtyard, watching the villagers dance. Lilura’s foot was set and bound in thick bandages and their bellies were full of warm food and drink. They were leaning on each other, laughing like friends. It was so surreal. The old woman came over late in the evening and sat with them a bit. “So, what are you two lassies’ New Year’s Resolutions?” she asked. Alannah and Lilura looked at each other, confused. “Resolutions?” Alannah asked. The woman laughed. They sat in comfortable silence for a bit while the pair pondered the question. Lilura spoke first, startling Alannah. “I want … I want to be kind.” The woman chuckled, and Lilura’s face flushed with embarrassment. “That’s a good resolution,” she said, “are you not usually very kind?” Lilura shook her head, and it actually looked like she might cry. “I’ve … done some bad things. But this is a chance to start over, right? A new year, a new life.” The woman nodded, her old eyes full of understanding. Alannah was speechless. Was she hearing right, or was the drink going to her head? Lilura could be lying of course, she’d done worse - but she sounded so sincere. “And what about you, Alannah?” the woman asked, and Alannah frowned. “I don’t know,” she thought a bit longer, and the feeling of carving the warm glowing stone came unbidden to her mind. It had felt so right. “I think, I want to help people. I want to find those that haven’t been carved yet. I want to help … make things right.” She met Lilura’s eyes at the end, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. The old woman nodded, satisfied. She stood then and moved away to rejoin the celebrations, leaving them to their thoughts. And as the bells tolled midnight they leaned toward each other. Their eyes drifted closed and their lips met - softly, hesitantly at first, and then passionately. Stars exploded in Alannah’s belly and she smiled into the kiss. Maybe things were going to be okay after all.
Posted 01/30/16
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Aaahh well that was a doozy. I had it in mind to do something simple and it just…. grew. I am so, so sorry. It was amazingly fun though. I wrote a one-shot for Naos explaining her realization that got her to want to open up and just have contact with more people instead of staying secluded with only the Professor for company. It’s actually the first real writing I’ve done for Naos and it’s really gotten me thinking about her characterization. *u* are to write more on all my characters, more often, because this was a wild ride as the words typed themselves for me and I am so in love with who my lady-under-the-stars has become. I want to write more. That’s it.
Posted 01/30/16
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Mixed media! OUO I drew and wrote something! Big step for me hahhnnn… Anywhoodles, here it is in all its sappy splendor. Dedication for these two beach bunnies.
Posted 01/31/16
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I’ve once again managed to procrastinate until just before the deadline, but I’ve finished my entry :D Clicky link!
Posted 01/31/16
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I found enough time/energy to do one this month! Here it is! I hope to improve on the depth of all of my characters this year. Especially in my bios :|
Posted 01/31/16
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Almost late oops! I finished my entry for the month though, so huzzah! Shall hopefully finish next month’s in a more timely manner. xD https://www.mycenacave.com/forums/musings/7504/make-me-feel-alive
Posted 01/31/16, edited 01/31/16
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I started on this probably a week ago, and finally got around to finishing. I forgot I hadn’t posted yet, so here it is about half an hour before the deadline. Go me! As another year passes, so do the rejection letters that came with it. For Delilah, 2015 was filled with rejection letter after rejection letter for all of her writing submissions. Her goal was to slowly get her pieces out there and eventually make a living off her writing. However, in this respect 2015 turned out to be a complete disappointment. Delilah was determined to change this for 2016; she did not want this to be a repeat of her terrible year. So she sat down and brainstormed how she could improve her writings. Sifting through her current pieces and her rejection letters, she noted down critiques others have given her, and critiques of her own. By the end of the night, there was one glaring critique that repeated itself; Delilah had been unable to connect to her readers. Though her pieces were interesting, her inability to connect to the reader made it hard to get anything published. This inability stemmed from her lack of understanding of people; something she had never wanted, but now desperately needed. The next day she had off work, Delilah set out into the city to improve her people skills, and her ability to make her characters realistic. First she started off at the library. Surely people there would have an insight into what readers like. After all, they are the people that Delilah aims her stories at. Unfortunately, she didn’t think the plan through fully. Libraries are not a good place for talking. Still not defeated, she set out to the coffee shop she works at. She had often seen people sit down with a book and a coffee, and most seemed like they would be interesting to talk to. She grabbed a coffee, and sat down next to another lone person in the coffee shop. They had a book face down on the table and appeared to be staring out the window. Delilah started off making small talk. She was nervous and she just hoped it didn’t show. As the conversation went on, they delved into deeper topics and she really got to know the person. Her name was Noelle, and she had plenty of interesting things to say about herself and how she viewed the world. When Delilah returned home that night, she documented everything she could remember in her diary. She also vowed to continue this practice in her spare time. She could already feel herself developing characters in her head, so it was definitely helping. This is her new years resolution to herself, and this is how she plans to break her stream of rejection letters, and eventually become a published artist. And my resolution is to not leave things until last minute with my writing and reading. I always leave things until last minute, as can be seen. As can also be seen is that I am not doing so well at not leaving things until last minute so far, woops. Hopefully I can finish earlier on the next prompt and go more in depth with my characters.
Posted 01/31/16, edited 01/31/16
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January’s prompt is now closed! Thank you to everyone who entered! We had an awesome time reading through all of your submissions. :D We really enjoyed learning more about your characters and their motivations! Myla’s comments: Dove’s comments: Crow’s comments: The raffle: We had 20 entries this month, which means that we will be drawing our standard number of four winners. :) Each winner will receive a random Cave Capsule.
Congratulations, Arintol, Adrian, Azurrys, and Jordii! A random Cave Capsule will be coming your way soon. :D In addition, everyone will soon be receiving their 1 gem participation prize. The spotlight: This month’s spotlight goes to Robin! We really enjoyed reading your entry! :) Please let us know which of the current month’s Out of the Shadows items you would like as your prize and we’ll get that out to you ASAP. The full submission is quoted below, but you may also read it in its original post here.
And now, for February!
Posted 02/01/16, edited 02/02/16
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Thank you all for going to such lengths to read and comment on everyone’s entries, it’s really very encouraging! And Dove wow you made me so emotional seeing your comment on my piece like… wow. I’m so happy omg. Just.. thank you so much. T.T so many people entered, it’s so cool seeing this many entries!!
Posted 02/01/16
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