[Baylin]

Hello Hello! Im super excited to be a Guest Artist for y'all again!
Thought i'd start off something fun and funky! This contest is gonna have two parts !
____________________________

For the first part i'd like you to design them a mask! Be as creative as you want! Just make sure they're CS appropriate :D
(this can be drawn by you or someone else for you but you must give credit if you are not the artist)


For part two i'd like you to write them a backstory of some sort! Theres a limit of 500 words.


One optional extra for y'all as well!
- 1 piece of art (no animations or comics, sorry!)
-an additional 500 words

Code: Select all

Username + ID #:
Name:
Gender:
Mask:
Backstory:
Extra:

You may pretty up your forums!

No lantern ref:

[nr] Sclera, Whiskers
[s] Hair, Shine, Teeth
[c] Fur, Tail, Backmane

This'll end June 6th at rollover (No more extensions will be granted after this so please try to finish up!)
If you have any questions feel free to message me here or in the kalon discord :)
Good luck!

[sobble]

they are stinky (affectionate)

baylin you madlad

[redhorizon]

Mark!! That fur is absolutely stunning

[Mnemosyne]

they are so gorgeous,, mark

[Sullivan Maurus]

.

[Safe_Haven]

Best viewed on PC!

Username + ID #:

Safe_Haven (#520125)

Name:

Sylph "Wraith" Lumine

Gender:

Masculine nonbinary (Any pronouns; he/they preferred)

Mask:


Designed by me!

Backstory:

The wind whistled through the trees with a sharp, sinister hum. Fog riddled the forest floor beneath Sylph’s feet. There was an eerie blue glow emitting from various twigs that were detached from decaying logs. The glow implied there were spectral berries nearby--exquisite berries utilized in countless healing brews, of which his mentor, Kali, needed for one of her patients. He didn’t understand why she couldn’t do it herself, though.

Sylph grumpily trailed the glow to a nearly-perfect row of wilting black bushes. Upon them were dozens of white-and-blue berries. It was a good thing he’d brought his mentor’s mask; it allowed the wearer to transcend realms. With it, Sylph was capable of seeing these berries--which were of another realm entirely--and bringing them into his own realm for usage.

Sylph carelessly plucked branches from the bush and stuffed them into a basket. With every branch plucked, the wind grew stronger and the fog denser. Once he’d finished plucking, he stood, only to find that he could no longer see the glow he’d trailed to find the bushes.

Confident he could get home in the fog regardless, Sylph turned and began to walk in the direction he believed he’d come from. As he stepped, he spotted a silhouette. “Kali, is that you?” he called out into the vast unknown ahead. He received no response, but the silhouette got closer and closer.

“Were you the one who stole my berries?” an old, raspy feminine voice echoed. “My bushes have been plucked clean.” The voice surrounded Sylph. He had no idea where it was coming from, only that the silhouette ahead of him grew larger as he stepped closer.

“I didn’t steal anything,” he howled back at the voice. What was she talking about? It took him a minute to realize, but Sylph finally understood that she was talking about the berries. Of course they belonged to some nut job. His day couldn’t get any better.

“Then who tore my babies up?” She spoke as if the bushes were her children.

“I don’t know, you old crone!” He shouted at her. A lie, of course, but what was he supposed to say? His mentor said she needed these so he was just following orders, even if the orders were dumb.

“I know you’re lying! You’ve busted up my bushes, you petty soul.” The silhouette faded back into the fog and Sylph was left in a shroud of grey nothingness.

The fog was so thick it was suffocating. He couldn’t even see his feet or the ground below him. For a while, it was silent--deafeningly silent: no birds chirped about the canopy, no mice scuttled along the forest floor, and no footsteps were audible among the fallen leaves. It was almost as if, in that instant, the forest had completely died.

It was suspicious--there was no sound even when the stranger had shifted. Dread began to prickle along Sylph’s back, but he shoved it down. This was eerie--that was certain--but Sylph couldn’t be creeped out. “You think this will phase me!?” he called into the nothingness. “Your little stage tricks aren’t fooling anyone! You couldn’t do anything even if you wanted!”

The fog faded just enough for Sylph to see that the silhouette had reappeared--or perhaps it had never left to begin with. “You can’t scare me!” He shouted as he marched confidently toward the strange silhouette.

He reached out and managed to get a hold on it, only to see an ugly grey creature with greasy white hair clumped about its mostly bald skull, draped in torn black robes, turn back at him with a blood-curdling scream. It vanished back into the fog with a thundering howl that caused Sylph’s head to spin until he blacked out.

___________________________________________________________________________________________


The world around him went dark. A haze fell over his vision as he stood in an unknown foggy clearing. Tied to his tail was a lantern, and the moment he beheld it, the fog practically whispered to him: “Remember to keep the lantern lit--should the flame die, you will cease to exist. Yet never forget one thing, young king or queen: the curse will only be broken should you burn the haze thin, much like the fog that you surround yourself in.”


___________________________________________________________________________________________


Sylph woke with a start at the front of his cottage, a lantern tied firmly to his tail. The berries were gone from the basket. He had a deep, inexplicable feeling that his dream was truth--he could not let the light of the lantern die out, or he would surely perish. And so, he wouldn’t.

Still, he was bitter. All he did was take some berries, he didn’t deserve this. As such, he had a different task in mind: to find the witch who cursed him and force her to undo it. She didn’t seem to be of his world. As such, he would need his mentor’s mask to find her and take her down. And he was confident he had the power to do it.


___________________________________________________________________________________________


The Story: The lantern on his tail holds his life force. If the light goes out, he slowly begins to fade away. He wears his mask to glimpse into another realm in order to find the monster who cursed him. His story begins on his search for it, but his personality is sassy and confident to begin with. He must learn trust and humility before finding the cure.
[904/1000]


Extra:

Extra Included above

[honeycreeper]

Username + ID #: honeycreeper | 945117
Name: Kiiro
Gender: nonbinary, but masculine presenting
Mask: whole | broken
Backstory: [1000/1000 - extra included]

I remember bursting into existence. The burning of my dark fur, the feeling of falling. The impact broke my gifted mask. The Earth was destroyed around me; caves crumbled to nothing and trees burned away. My existence was painful, but I remember being told it was for a good cause.

I remember their voices, cold and calculating. The Elder Gods telling me that the Earth they made was falling into darkness – and soon would ice over. I was given the knowledge and gift to fix it. A singular lantern, with a drop of sun for light was gifted to me. I was taught how to make more. I was taught selflessness – to give myself so that others could be saved. My purpose was nothing, but to save the earth. That’s what I was made for.

When I awoke in that crater, they had found me. They were ecstatic. They rejoiced – screams fell from their lips. They gave me gifts - swords made from rare ore and armor made from dragon scales. Gifts that a protector would cherish. But I was a mere messenger. I couldn’t allow them to believe a false truth.

So, I did what I was made to do. I created a lantern from that armor of dragon scales. I reached out, and pulled a drop of sun out of the sky. The sun made itself home in the lantern.

I remember holding out the lantern to the people. I had explained that I wasn’t here to fight no enemy of theirs; I was here to save them.

I remember their confusion, their bewilderment . . their anger. They lashed out at me, screaming that I was a false God. That I was only there to watch them freeze to death. They screamed that, if I really was a God, that I would protect them from their enemy. I tried to explain, I really did. I must have repeated myself a hundred times, but my words fell onto deaf ears.

They hurt me. I remember my voice wavering, asking for forgiveness. Their sharp stones pierced more than my skin. My lantern was shattered and my little drop of sun hid. I was ran out of the little village I landed in. The people chased me to the edge of their territory, a never-ending forest of darkness.

I felt emotions I wasn’t supposed to feel – that I wasn’t made to feel. Misery had wrapped itself around my soul.

Decades passed, and while I didn’t save the earth as I was made to do, the people survived. They survived in a world of ice and snow.
But my forest remained. The trees remained green and the air was hot. My little drop of sun survived and kept me away from them. Stories told by those villagers portrayed me as the villain. A false God. And eventually, I was tempted to believe them.

Wouldn’t you believe the words as well, if they were the only thing being said?


Now then, it has been years since I’ve thought of my existence. The flames licking at my fur is just a distant memory, a phantom pain. I don’t remember the feeling of falling, only the fear that it brought. I’ve grown so much, learned more than I ever thought I would have been allowed to.

That old village has now been abandoned and I’ve since gathered all of the creations from that silent and painful place. The bowls and recipes from all different dens were stuffed into a leather bag of mine. Soft pillows and blankets were stolen away and made into a nest, making it cozy and warm. Wood and tools from outside a stone den were carefully tucked away.

I learned the beauty of architecture. I learned how to make myself a home. The bowls made from clay sit on my shelves – used and loved. The recipes for rich soups and tasty breads sit on-top of my table in the middle of the floor. My broken mask hangs above my den, reminding me of my home. Of the Elder Gods. Of their gifts.

Of course, I haven’t forgotten how or why I was created. I remember vividly everything from that time. The Elder Gods voices, how cold and calculating they were. Their lessons, on how to create the lanterns that were supposed to save their creations.

The drop of sun’s warmth. It’s comforting presence.

I was lost that time I spent in the dark – crying out in pain. Until the little flame took refuge in my original lantern. The little golden creature had lit up my soul, and in return I carried them everywhere I went.

The tales of me held strong over the years – for every time that I ventured too close to the abandoned village I would hear voices. For them, I was a fraud of a God, who now rotted in the forest.

The forest that was once as dark as night was now lit up. Lanterns were made from anything I could get my hands on – from old ore to bone. They decorated my forest. My home. I made sure to make a path to my little den in the middle – for those who wander in, aren’t likely to get out without some help.

And even then, they definitely didn’t wander in on their own accord.

If you were to disobey the King, you would be banished. Because of this, I have helped countless of villagers across my forest into sanctuary. Sanctuary that I made. You see, on the other side of my forest was a village I created all my own. Dens, full of supplies, were built. Just for others.

I make sure to always carry an extra unlit lantern in my leather bag, for I know if I have a visitor they will need the warmth and protection of a flame.

I failed once – and even though I know it wasn’t my fault, I still blame myself. I refuse to let it happen once again.

[kolyakun]

Big mark!

[OpheliasLighthouse]

Username + ID #: branded + 969115

Name: juno

Gender: female

Mask:


art made for me by russiannlucifer <33

Backstory:

"I can't breathe! I... I can't breathe! Please! H-help me..."

Shooting awake, Juno covered her mouth to force back a scream of sheer terror. Panting, eyes peeled wide open, on her bed at four o'clock in the morning.

'I'm having the dream? Finally? After all this time? It can't be... I wasn't chosen... I can't be chosen!'

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, racing heart preventing her from standing just yet.

She had to find and tell Gabriel about this. Had to.

-

This was unprecedented, truly a new and strange occurrence for the town of Hartmire. See, plague doctors are handpicked by Saint Saleos, the guardian angel of their town. They are sent dreams, often nightmares, telling them who their first patient will be.

Usually this dream is sent in childhood, long before reaching adulthood, supposedly so the kit can receive the training they need to be a plague doctor.

But never has a woman been chosen thus far. At least not any women in this town.

-

'Have I lost my mind? Maybe this was just a dream. I should go back to bed and forget it.'

As she walked across the street, she wondered if it was worth it to wake Gabriel for what could have been a regular nightmare. After all, women can't be plague doctors! Right? She's simply never heard of such a thing.

'Please be home, please be home. Oh, Gabriel...'

She pounded on the door, waiting for a response she knew wasn't coming now.

She tried the doorknob, and luck was on her side tonight; the knob clicked and she rushed herself in.

"GABRIEL!"

"HUH? WAAAAGH! WHOMST ART THOU? A SPECTOR OF THE NIGHT? AWAY WITH THEE!"

"Gabriel, it's me, it's ME! Knock it off, you dork. It's not the dark ages."

"Aw, you always ruin my fun."

"Listen, Gabriel, right to the point. I think... I had the dream. You know, THE dream?"

"Oh, cool! So what, are you a doc now? Will you listen to my heart? I think it's beating faster. You know, 'cause you jacked up my blood pressure with that screaming of yours earlier."

"I yelled your name onc- Hey! Don't distract me. Gabe, it was the dream. I know it!"

"And? I said 'cool'. What more do you want from me! Tch."

"Please! Stop being so dramatic. A woman can't be a plague doctor."

"Um... Says who?"

"Well... Nobody? But I've never seen one!

"Just because you haven't seen it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Juno, the next town over, there's plenty of women plague doctors."

"Oh. Oh.

"Like you said, were not in the dark ages! Haha! Women can do anything, you know?"

-

And so, after a long conversation about not rushing to assumptions, and with fears settled, Juno slept over at Gabriel's.

All was well.

-

Later, down the line, Gabriel gifted her the mask she uses today. Gold etching, black leather.

She loved Gabriel, that dork. He was a good friend and kalon.
500/500



WIP

Extra: Two years later, medical training completed, Juno"s first patient was a kit with a runny nose. A simple cold.

Her nightmare from years before came to mind, and she shook her head.

Both her best friend and the guardian saint of this town were so dramatic.
47/500

[doge fruit]

res maybe!