[Furrydogs12]

username + number: Furrydogs12 992378
kalon name: Vulcan
prompt: A large crimson land floats high above the sky, above the clouds, with matching colored vines hanging down from the island. Rivers of lava flow through the floating land, from tall volcanoes into small rivers and lakes. Large volcanoes replace mountains, the threat of eruption eminent at any moment. Trees are a crimson rather then their natural green hue most would find on earth. The creatures are made of lava and rock.
extra: (optional)

[elf_of_the_hollow]

username + number: elf_of_the_hollow / 352032
kalon name: veritas
prompt: [ 776 / 1000 ]


the sky here is lovely. it always is.

certainly, it rains. it's not unmarred of clouds. it is, by no means, perfect. but everyone who comes here can agree that it's never less than pleasant. it's a welcoming place, and indeed, it has to be. there aren't many other places out there.

the island is the largest landmass in the world, surrounded on all sides by endless sea. at the center of it, a monument of shining steel, reflective silver in blinding sunlight. nothing around quite resembles it, both in magnitude and in form. hundreds of spires stretch endlessly upwards into open sky, winding and circling and interlocking. brilliant blue flags unfurl in the wind, stationed across balconies and towers. this view makes it feel so significant, so tremendous. it seems to carry itself with such weight. or, it would, if it weren't just a building.

it almost feels strange to acknowledge it. for all the fanfare it makes about itself, it's still just a house. a family lives there. your family, depending on whether or not you're feeling like acknowledging that connection. you are, today, you suppose. most days the concept is foreign to you. really, most days, they're less than roommates. that's something easy to be when there's so much space between you.

you're walking through what you might tentatively call the courtyard, though really what it is is a root system. giant stalks of steel pierce the ground, plastered in large archways that open up to stairways and rooms that you've never bothered to explore. you're near the center root, a giant blub of brilliant light that shines throughout the courtyard. someone has stopped you to talk, but you're not paying much attention.

the palace's roots are open to the kingdom's citizens. it's practically a commons, more marketplace than palatial estate. the royal family loves for everyone to feel a part of it. at this late hour not many come here, which you know well since it's become your ritual. you like to avoid the crowds.

the person in front of you is excitedly jabbering on about meeting a member of the royal family, which you assume must be an uncommon experience. certainly it has been in yours. they're asking you questions you'd prefer not to answer. really, you would much rather they just left you to your business. if your discomfort is as obvious as you feel it is, they don't seem to have noticed.

salvation comes from behind as you hear an all too familiar voice. there's an audible sizzle as you feel her hand meet your shoulder. she doesn't recoil from the touch. you meet her eyes, and for a second they almost resemble a frog's. an apt comparison, you suppose.

the touch hurts you too, a little bit. you don't love to feel the heat. but it's only a minor unpleasantness. you can bear it.

she wears a genuine smile as she starts to entertain your guest, who's enthusiasm shoots the moon the moment she appears. it only makes sense that you've been dropped completely now that she's here. she shoots you a smile that lets you know you're free to go, she's got this now. she doesn't have quite the same talent for discomfort that you do.

it's part of her unending determination to be nice to you, despite the fact that you don't deserve it. despite the fact that you're cruel more than you've ever been kind. it's as though one day she just set her mind on being a good sister, and it simply hasn't occurred that you've never returned that favor. she tries her best to prove it in the brief moments you're actually together.

you make away from the scene quickly. you're headed out to the nearest shore, to the west. the roads you take are completely deserted, due in part to the annual flooding that's left the west shore largely abandoned. it can get dangerous if you're not careful, but you don't concern yourself much with that.

your feet hit coarse sand, marking your arrival. wind hits you as a wall of force that signals a storm building on the horizon. you wonder if it will ever reach land.

you stare into the setting sun. you wonder if she ever used to come here, before you were around. if they all used to come here together. you figure they must have, since this is where they found you. it would be a hard truth to swallow if they did.

you stand in the tide as it rolls in and out. the water boils around your feet.

it's a lovely sunset. always so lovely.

[rabbit...]

username + number: rabbit... 45716
kalon name: Etrian
prompt: 954 words

It is a strange and dangerous existence for many outsiders when they hear that our ancestors grew their community, Voldives, next to a boiling river. Outlanders are unconvinced but realize their mortality when the heat threatens to melt them to the spot. The molten river flows from one yawning mouth from the mountain and slowly winds down the foothills to descend back into the earth once again. Lava is not the only thing that surfaces. Sometimes a grand procession of creatures accompanies the river. They are more compelled to move due to gravity than any voluntary movement of the creatures themselves.

Many of the creatures seem like distorted mirror versions of other sea creatures, fish with iron scales, lobsters with steel claws, and mollusks with iridescent glass shells. The head of the procession is a grand snail that has many more feet than the common ones found on land. The shell, such an abyssal black, it must be what the gaps in between the stars in the night sky are made up of. Yet the lining between the snail and the shell is the colour of life—the red, starkly vibrant, as the river of life that flows through our veins. The snail and the rest of the procession are inert. They do not turn when people try to draw their attention with shouts, nor do they react when people approach them. It is also rather uncertain if the procession really were alive, or if they were simply Like the change of the winds, it is inevitable that the procession disappears, but it is uncertain when they may reappear again.

The legends passed down through the bonfire stories tell of Etrian’s ancestors, who were once favoured by these grand snails. On the backs of their shells, the kalons traveled endless seas to finally land on the hotbed of Voldives.

The kalons now wait for the volcanic surges to time their volcanic harvests. Once the river beds have hardened, villagers approach with sleds pulled by large iguanas whose underbellies have hardened against the magma. Metallurgists carefully mine through the tough stone with tools that have been forged by the volcano’s heat. It is said that the snails that brought them to Voldives taught the first kalons how to break and refine the stone traces left by the lava to form their first tools, as those snails were the first to learn how to incorporate the metals into their very being.

They must take care not to overmine any regions lest the natural walls made by the lava’s steady build-up. Any breaks mean the path may get diverted the next time it erupts and lead to an unpredictable path that may goad the surrounding forests into a wildfire. There is no way to ward off disaster if you were the one that caused it.

The volcanic harvesters are diligent and protective of their lives. Negligence is only a quick fall away, but fortune from the venturing where few dare is undeniably persuasive.

When the harvesters bring their haul to the village, it gets separated. Farmers get the pulverized remnants to encourage their crops to grow plentifully. Homes can get rocks with residual heat to boil water or warm their hearths. Yet artisans are the ones who get the prized ore. They place their workshops on active heat vents where the earth acts as bellows to feed their fires and release the spirit stuck in the ore. Artisans give life and time so the spirit so they may take physical form again.

When Etrian came of age, he apprenticed at the artisan's shops in rotation. It was a strenuous existence, but it was thrilling. He was watching Masters etch their souls into permanency for the mere price of sleeping in the same stables as the iguanas and rising early to clean the slag from the previous day's work. The work is quick only in the eyes of the uninitiated. How can an apprentice learn all there is to learn from a Master in a matter of months? Simply put, they cannot. The students rotate in a large spiral between Masters to get a glimpse into their lives before the students need to dedicate their entire beings to it. Apprenticeships are focused on learning traditional techniques to push the craft forward. Rather, the crafts should evolve with the refinement of tools and also be dictated by the apprentice's interests. Etrian has seen peers fall to passing waves, where they hone their skills only to sell to outlanders who simply become disinterested in the overwhelming copies. It is a waste of time and skill when the process is dedicated to the refinement of individuality when Etrian will eventually offer his time to the ore.

The practice of carving is simple and rote. Etrian's simple act of practicing control by carving magma rocks spurred a collection of creatures, yet each passing creature looked more polished than the last. His prized collection was carved out of pure black obsidian that shattered countless times before he got it right.

Etrian didn't know what possessed him when he was clearing slag off the ground, but a feeling splintered in his heart that the next procession was coming, and he had to be there to see it. He wore his heat protective gear and decided to pack the obsidian snail at the last minute. Even if he didn’t see the procession today, at least he had a snail to still cheer him up.

Yet sure enough, when the entrance bellowed white smoke, the lava flooded into the banks and creatures steadily emerged, with the grand snail taking the lead as normal. As it passed Etrian though, a peculiar thing happened.

The snail turned its head.

[captain dude]

username + number: captain dude 1003555
kalon name: Brazaen
prompt:

The sweat began to pool around Brazaen’s pawpads as the hammer swung, clanging again and again and again like a deep, harmonic bell at the veins of earth, the hot molten beads of the earth’s blood dripping around him.

It was like fighting, he thought. War with Kuna, the earth god. A fight I have to struggle and win.

Using the specially-made bucket, he gathered up Kuna’s Blood quickly, heaving it all in its great weight before it turned to glass. His entire family had done this for years, lucrative, yes, but it was a delicate task. The sweltering cave sweat liquid metal, the screech of gases escaping screaming like banshees as he made his way up the steps, the yoke with the two buckets of lava perched on his shoulders. It wasn’t the heat so much as the weight that caused him to nearly stagger as he carried the buckets up. With his joints being as old as they were and the heftiness of the molten stone, the toll on Brazaen was much greater than his children or even his grandkits. He lugged the yoke and its contents back to his cavernous den, removing the buckets and placing them in the hearth’s coals. He sat back for a moment to catch his breath on a carved wooden chair that his mother had made for him back in his younger years. Ah. Home. It wasn't much, being below-ground, but then again, considering that the rich Kals that lived aboveground worked twice as much as he did, modest accommodations were nothing to shake a stick at. There was the old hearth, which had been there since his family had started up the weapons crafting business a few centuries ago, good for keeping the freshly harvested magma warm, cooking stews, sweet breads, and roasts, and keeping things warm enough for Brazaen and his kin's liking. And did they like it warm! The hearth was the centerpiece of their home for good reason, the place where everyone socialized, worked, and lived. The family's heart itself, connected to Kuna's once more. He dipped into their barrel of fresh water from the springs within different parts of the cave for a drink, taking a deep swig before setting the mug down on the table his partner had carved for them back when they had married.

"Papa!" Little voices echoed from the room where his grandkits all grew up together. "Can we come to harvest the snow? We wanna see snow! And the sun! Please?"

Brazaen laughed lightly. The journey between the depths where they lived and the surface could be dangerous, with blood-sucking mites, carnivorous plants, and beasts that roamed in some parts of the caverns.

"Okay, you win! You can come, little ones. But we're taking the long way," he said, throwing his paws up in mock surrender. "And you're both helping Papa carry a bucket of snow home with us, alright?"

They both nodded in excitement, grabbing the snow-buckets to bring up to the surface.

It was a long trek, but with the gentle voice of the babbling brook to keep them company, the occasional bat, and the gentle glow of the multicolored glowworms that inhabited the caverns, it seemed wondrous. Brazaen could never get tired of his home. It was like his own personal natural wonderland.

"Look, kids!" This was his favorite part of the journey. Above them and all around their feet towered enormous quartz pillars, catching the light of the glowworms and reflecting it in every hue imaginable. He couldn't see it without tearing up every time. The whistle of the wind, the dripping of the water, the trickle of the creek. There wasn't anything more incredible than this. It demanded a few minutes just to admire and take in. He could stay there forever.

"Okay, we'd better move on now. Don't want the snow to melt before we get there," he said, chuckling lightly.

"But Papa! The snow never melts!" one of the kits chimed in.

"Ah, right," he said with a wink.

It didn't take them too long to get to the great doors that guarded the cave from the great, snowy expanse of the planet's surface. He shivered, feeling a small draft from the wooden door. He put on a thick woolen cloak from the basket he kept by the door just for this occasion before buttoning the kits into smaller coats. With a significant effort, he was able to swing open the great doors. The kits raced outside, admiring the beauty of the sunlight on their fur, mountains towering above him, the puffy snowbanks, and the pines that swayed gently in the icy breeze.

It wouldn't be long before their paws got cold, but for now, they were having a good time. Squinting in the bright light, he gathered some snow. It would cool the molten rock quicker and stronger, making it easier for his family members to chistle blades and tools out of, who were far better than him at his old age, letting them make use of the magma collected earlier. Eventually, the grandkits came tripping back to him, shaking off their wet paws.

The way back was far quieter, all thoroughly worn out from work and play. The kits trotted ahead of their grandfather once the den was in sight, relieved to be home after the arduous trek. At the doorway back to his den, Brazaen stopped for a quick blessing to Kuna, as always, clutching the stone beads in his hair carved from the doorframe's stonework.

"I thank you, Lady of Stone and Metal,
For permitting us to struggle with you to survive,
For your Blood, which you give with much effort for our tools and livelihood,
For your protection, as we travel through your depths,
For your warmth as you warm our hearts and lives,
May you smile on us always."

And with that, he walked back into his home, heart warmed by the family and honest work that laid within.

(1000/1000)

Extra:

Ambience within the Caverns!
(Best enjoyed with headphones while reading this!)

[Grey_Hoodie]

closed!

i'll get results up as soon as i'm able!

[Grey_Hoodie]

Alrighty! Sorry for the wait, everyone! This was a tough comp
to judge!! Everyone was so creative, and I enjoyed every single entry!!
That said, I'm going to start off by awarding hms to the following users:
justamindset [695530]
Calibri [927415]
Ucanthandleme [809102]
rabbit... [45716]
captain dude [1003555]

I would also like to award RUs to both
Cyrano [887402] and baz [807452]!!
I fell in love with both of your concepts and didn't think it would be fair
to limit the prize to just an honorable mention ^^

Finally, I would like to congratulate jo-hann [412507] on winning Mikael!!
Your entry made me the most curious -- I really enjoyed the spookier, dark vibes
to your kal's home, and I look forward to seeing what you do with them c:
Congrats!

[gojo]

holy woah! thank for letting me win this beautiful baby! i've got a lot of plans for his story so hopefully you'll see him around! congrats the ru and hm winners, i rlly loved everyone's forms!

[LokisTrick]

Congratulations everyone!!

[black water]

thank you so much for the ru, and congrats to jo-hann, cyrano, and all the hm winners! i rlly liked looking through all the entries and i hope to see the others around <3

[rabbit...]

Congrats jo-hann, Cyrano and baz on your new kalons!!

I think the concepts for everyone's entries were terrific, congrats everyone! Thank you for my HM too!