The Skies at Dawn [IC|Closed]

[G-Tech Corporation]

Currently closed, but if you want to monitor the IC for openings it's here. Also note that the map for this RP is there.

-The Skies at Dawn-

You showed them.

You showed them all.

For years they mocked your preparations, your paranoia. You preached of the world ending, the magical apocalypse that cast a shadow over both man and beast. You pleaded with those you knew to take you seriously, to listen to the warnings and heed the signs that all the decadence of the Lost Continent had brought upon Cergun, your home. But they did not open their ears, or soften their hearts. Cergun, the mystical land, has fallen, fallen so far you know not if it will ever rise again. Her ashes float upon the breeze, songs and laughter cut short. Consumed in a day by fire, and water, and the void that hungers always for the souls of men. Its beauty and splendor are now no more than a memory you bear aloft, safe from the destruction that overran everyone you've ever known. You few survive, cast adrift on the winds of time and space.

As you sit alone above the emptiness of the vanished dead in your fortress, your redoubt long prepared, the sun rises, bright and clear. A new day is dawning, but what will it bring with it?

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Ada's Island - Day 1 - Dawn

The Earth Witch, Ada Terratraza, seventh one to bear her name, opened her eyes slowly, hoping to see there, in front of her and beyond the window, an endless expanse of fertile soil and verdant grass, smiling faces milling about in their sacred homes as the world continued to be as it had always been.

Needless to say, the desolate eternal skies that greeted her hopeful eyes in stead of her vision of peace was a disappointing sight, to say the least.

Letting out a soft sigh, she stood up and walked closer to the window, gazing outside with eyes the color of rich soil as if to examine the vast, seemingly endless and completely empty skies, her only companions the clouds of dust that swirled across the celestial vault, lazily drifting alongside the wind beneath her humble abode suspended in the nothing, her own little piece of heaven, last remnant of what had once been known as the land of Cergun.

Truth be told, she was not devastated by loss, or any such thing. There was no grief overwhelming her spirit, no unbearable sadness consuming her. Her mental discipline helped her overcome such things, and the prospect of a bright future in this new world which she would help shape gave her something to look forward to. The problem, at the present moment, was that she felt... lost. Not in the literal sense, obviously, for how could one be lost on a floating island of one's own creation, in the middle of the sky? No, she felt lost in a metaphorical sense. She wished to shape a new world, yes, but for the time being, she was aimless. In her hurry to raise her own fortress, she had neglected to establish a series of relevant short term objectives, which led to her current situation. How does one go about shaping a new world? That was a question that had no answer here, as there was no one to ask, and nowhere to consult.

Finally, she pulled herself away from the window, averting her eyes from the sky towards which she felt no connection or admiration. She had always been someone with an affinity for the earth, as befit her title and lineage, and yet, most of the land was now gone, her fortress the sole exception.

Walking outside of the castle that sat atop the island in the sky, Ada decided to simply enjoy the breeze and walk around her hallowed grounds for a bit. Surely, she would get an idea of what to do if she distracted herself a bit first, no? It was with this in mind that she began pacing around the floating landmass, her bastion of soil, as the winds of the sky gently brushed against her, causing her black hair to flutter in the breeze as it trailed behind her. She had always tried to take a positive outlook on her life, and this time was no exception. She smiled as her eyes fell upon her creation, the soil of her temple above the nothingness. Her connection with it was strong, and she walked barefoot over its surface, running her fingers along the stone walls of the castle.

It was in this fashion that, after walking for a bit, she happened upon the vegetable garden she had lovingly and carefully prepared before her departure as a means to ensure that she would have sustenance after... well, after everything turned to ashes. She gazed upon it, and then up at the bright sun that gently shone its rays upon the now empty world, as if it still cared for what little remained inside. Her smile grew wider still, and she looked back at the garden. Sustenance, yes, she would have to make sure to have enough food at all times, and so, she decided to work on her garden for the time being. She could prepare a spell to make the soil richer in nutrients, of course, and then she could also make preparations to expand the vegetable patch in the future if necessary. She could even try casting a spell to make the plants grow faster, if she put her mind to it. Oh, she'd also have to make sure to use her seeds wisely, she thought afterwards. She wasn't entirely sure if there were still seasons to account for, after all, so she made a mental note to devise how to investigate that later. Still smiling to herself, pleasantly surprised of all the work she happened to find in this empty world, Ada, the Earth Witch, began working on her first task, preparing an enchantment to make the soil of the garden more fertile. It would take her a few hours, certainly, but it would pay off in the long run.

[Marzarbul]

Daylight. The filtered rays of that golden orb came through the rose tinted glass mosaic of his rooms balcony bay door windows. With the dawn came the remembrance of what each new sunrise would herald. The death of all he had held dear. What remained of that world could be found in the various pieces of artwork scattered across the rooms of his manor. The mosaics painted onto his walls depicting creatures of legend and acts of valor from ages past. The chirping of birds and other living creatures currently in residence in his grove. Finally his vast study containing hundreds of tomes containing the remaining knowledge he was able to save. He had tried to save a vast array of texts based on all manner of disciplines; from books on history to even cook books. Though he did focus on those texts that he felt were works of genius that would be hard to replace or obtain. Such works by famous architects, engineers, scientists, philosophers, and poets were what he prized most.

Funnily enough he was only able to save a few books of magic since it was hard to obtain such books without belonging to a Magicians Guild. The former magicians of Cergun were a greedy breed and were loath to relinquish their secrets. While he hated them for this he had to admit that he too was cut from that very same cloth. Sitting up from his goose down stuffed bed mattress he blankly stared at his surroundings. His bedroom was a mess of loose papers, haphazardly stacked books, and a plate of unfinished food. Throughout the night he had studied what few books on magic in the vain attempt to find some piece of Cergun. Bowls of water for scrying were set on the ground in various positions as he tried to look upon every geographical corner of Cergun that he could think of. Even the small island chains of the South were missing. All he saw was the void. Void and sky.

Throwing off the thick wool blankets he placed his feet onto the frigid wood floors. Walking towards his balcony doors he put on a ragged green robe and grabbed a hunk of cheese from last nights dinner. He was hungry after his exertions last night and while not a major magical exertion it had taxed him somewhat. Now as he walked onto his stone balcony he gazed over his now much limited domain. The once rolling hills and little farmsteads were long gone along with the people that had inhabited them. All that remained was a small woodland grove and his manor home. Observing the small wooden bridge connecting the two land masses he glimpsed a small rabbit standing attentively at the grove side of the bridge.

“Ah it seems young master Theodosius has something to discuss.” Walking back into the warm confines of his bedroom he put his half finished cheese wheel on the wardrobe. Grabbing a pair of leather boots and a pair of wool pants he set off down his staircase with much grumbling about aching joints. The staircase itself was a thing of beauty and was made from aged cherry wood. Its banister was made from wrought cold iron representing a dragon that curled into a ball at he end of the railing. The dragon depicted was taken from an image he found in an ancient mythical bestiary called, “Beasts and Creatures of Obscure Myth.” He was always fascinated by those creatures and their lust for golden treasures. Dragon sickness it was called and he feared that he too suffered from it. Only instead of gold he sought the pale yellow parchment on which knowledge was poured onto from onyx black ink. Reaching the end of the stair case he walked through the foyer and opened his massive iron reinforced oak door. His predecessor had been obsessed with fortifying his manor to survive even the most aggressive of enraged villagers. Remembering his former employer he was not surprised.

Striding past the garden containing various vegetables ranging from the tuberous potatoes to vines of tomatoes. He noticed that several of his cabbages had been torn into pieces and strewn about the front lawn. “Damn rabbits.” Upon reaching the bridge he watched as the rabbit on the other side began thumping his back paw in giddy anticipation in response to the approach of the Green Wizard. Natan reached the other side and in his most imperious voice he growled, “Which one of your brethren has been eating the cabbage in my garden Theodosius Thumper Tail.” It almost seemed that the rabbit gulped as it responded back to the wizard in a series of clicks, chirps, and thumps with his feet. What it amounted to was “That would be the Rough Tails. They just had a litter of newborns and thought they could use a little ruffage. I will be sure to pass on your displeasure to them.” Looking down at the rabbit he could not help but smile slightly at the thought of rabbits wanting to put more fiber in their diet. “Please do Theo. While you might be able to eat all manner of victuals I am much more constrained in what my diet can handle. Now what is it that the rabbits wish to discuss?”

Flattening his ears against the back of his head young Theo responded in a serious manner, “We wish to ask what has happened to the earth below. The birds have been flying around for hours looking for it and have yet to find anything. We rabbits are worried and are not alone in our concerns. The birds, foxes, badgers, deers, wolves, and even the squirrels are running themselves into an uproar.” At this point Natan finally noticed a variety of unearthly sounds emanating from the grove. While he had warned the animals of the impending doom many had simply refused to believe it. Most disasters could be sensed by animals but this doom was not a natural one so the signs that most creatures listened for where not there. The creatures that lived in his woods were those that he could convince. It was enough to create a viable temperate biome but it would need to be managed carefully so that it would not become unbalanced. Natan had already determined the optimal population sizes of both prey and predator animals. Now would be the time to allay their fears and to determine how many creatures now call this grove home.

Lowering his gaze back to the earth he stated ,”I want you to gather all the animal leaders and have them assemble at the Runestone near the pond.” Marking the rabbits forehead with a rune of haste he watched as the rabbit rocketed into the wood to spread the word amongst the animals. Following the torn grass he slowly walked past the tree limb archway on which was carved a rune of his own devising. Imbued within that rune was a magic that would preserve the wood from all manner of diseases. He had already prepared several more runes but they would have to undergo more tests before being put to the test. Walking along the dirt path he observed this enchanted realm that he had saved from destruction. Planting all manner of trees and vegetation ranging from tiny black berry bushes to mighty yew trees. Reaching upwards with his left hand he twisted off a ripened reddish-yellow apple and took a healthy bite out of it. Savoring the crisp taste of the fruit he was reminded of all the other fruit trees he could not save that he would not be able to taste.

While the plants were varied in species he was limited to only those species from a temperate climate. Oh how he wished to have created a greenhouse but there just wasn't enough time to create one. The glass alone was estimated to take over a month and while he waited the world ended. Picking out the seeds from the apple core he put them in the front right pocket of his robes. He would need to be careful in the conservation of all the plants there and as such he would begin a seed bank. Maybe he could even try to develop new types of plants by combining what he had left. Eventually after several more minutes of meandering down the worn animal path he walked through the large opening onto an open area where lay a crystal clear pond. The pond was something that Natan felt would be needed since water would be a needed commodity in a place where such a resource would be scarce. He had impressed greatly to the woodland community that the water was to be used sparingly and not to be polluted. Whistling a slight tune that the maids hummed as they cleaned the kitchen he slowly approached the pond bank and looked into its depths. He was greeted by the fins of several koi as they waved their tail fins in greeting.

Throwing the eaten core into the lake he watched as the fish began to take various nibbles from the fruit detritus. After watching the fish swarm around the apple for several seconds he moved away towards the runestone. The stone itself was a solitary ten foot pillar of green marble on which was carved several runes. These runes are what allowed Natan to speak to the various animals of the woods and allowed them to communicate with one another. Surrounding the stone was a circle of polished stones of various shades and hues. Arriving at the stone he waited as a slow trickle of animals came and arrayed themselves in a semicircle around the outer layer of stones. It would be some time before everyone arrived and once they all did he would allay their fears and introduce his first of many ideas. An animal census.

[Erhialam]

Lyra Stargazer's mind was clouded with melancholy. She watched one of her inventions, a tiny, whimsical looking telescope whose three magic lenses constantly shifted in and out of place, with misty eyes.

whirrrr-click, whirrrr-click, whirrrr-click...

She'd always been content with her mind, her observatory, her pool, and the heavens above. Only when everything else had shattered like so much prism-glass around her did she realize that her world was wrought of so much more. She had never wanted to be cut off from the world, only a much subtler part of it. The skies could teach it to you: the subtlest things always pushed the grandest things into place. That was the vast, kaleidoscopic machine of what was. Now, her own machines would fall with her into disrepair or continue on indefinitely, there was no difference now.

whirrrr-click, whirrrr-click, whirrrr-click...

It only occurred now to Lyra how happy it would have made her to see them in universities and palaces of learning all across the world, to know that she was teaching the workings of things without teaching them, to swell the minds of the people without knowing them, to whisper voicelessly to them the words, "Look, look, do you see? Do you see what a wonderful world this is?"

But now, that was impossible.

whirrrr-click, whirrrr-click, whirrrr-click...

She'd most of the night sitting here at the desk, weeping occasionally, but mostly just floundering in the profound emptiness she felt, a hole inside her like the ones stars left after they were gone...She had enough food for a little while in the tiny pantry below, and would always have water, thanks to her reflecting pool.

whirrrr-click, whirrrr-click, whirrrr-click...

The sun was coming up.

whirrrr-click, whirrrr-click, whirrrr-click...

Rising, she watched the dawn through the casement and slowly began to braid back her hair with trembling fingers.

whirrrr-click, whirrrr-click, whirrrr-click...

It was time to meet the morning.

It was a matter of the one soft minute, glorifying and exalting the dawn until her face was flushed and her hands cold. This, of course, was followed by the inevitable pang of human fear, muted not by all their sciences, no! Everything was so below, forgive the hashed wording, and she was above, she was up! And gravity knew nothing at all. So then it was the matter of a giddy, tripping stumble across the little footbridge and a tumble by the side of the pool. Stargazer looked, for all the world, like some dizzy schoolgirl on a spring day, heart and veins and mind singing with what the young mind calls love but what the older, and perhaps wiser, mind will call foolish fancy. But what do they know! And hers, in fact, was some strange breed of terror. This of course, gave way to that old, primal awe of the rising sun, that great, unimaginable fire in the east. It was no wonder that some ancient people had called it god. Even now, it was that. The world was at its mercy. The lady lay on her back before the pool and watched it, that beautiful, terrible sun.

The water of the pool was now tinted gold with sunrise. Lyra cupped her hands and sipped, drank of the sun. It was cool, refreshing, tasting faintly of mineral or simply of earth itself, if that was how you wanted it. And then, she simply lay with shuttered eyes. Lyra Stargazer finally met the morning, and was glad to make its acquaintance.

She was closer to her beloved cosmos than ever. But it only made her want to weep. The stars were all so simple. They followed the patterns, the courses set them by the gravities of the greater things, and the machine went on, and on. But feeling did not. Feeling followed no pattern, no law. Neither did man, for that matter. Kingdoms rose and fell and rose, yes, but within their centuries, how did their people carry themselves? What pattern did men follow? On what course was their ship set, besides the frustratingly hazy north star of progress? What great machine were the lantern-shows of their dreams a part of?

Perhaps that was why she had never wanted the noblewoman's life.

Lyra Stargazer's mind came to rest at melancholy once more. And she felt as if it meant to stay there, at rest, as she did, with shuttered eyes that were softly, nay, soundlessly weeping.

[Bunkeranlage]

Night had slowly crept up, swallowing the great Sun within two hours. As the great skies turned dark, and the Green Dancers began their magnificent ballet, a dark ship slowly ploughed its way through the calm, serene waters of the night. It was a fairly large boat, about 23 metres long and complete with two square rigged masts. An old ship, but still seaworthy. The mysterious name "Maakjura" had been painted neatly on the back of the ship, denoting her title.

To most, this name meant nothing much, if anything at all. Maakjura the Wanderer was just one of many wizards who prowled the lands, on agendas not known to anybody other than themselves. This particular wizard, however, meant worlds to the owner of the ship. He was, after all, the trainer of the ship's captain: Xharûn the Ocean Magus.

They had all refused to listen to him. Ever since he found the Seeing Stone, they said, the old geezer's gone completely mad. And nobody could blame them, for one moment, the Magus was giving lectures and demonstrations at the most elite of adept academies, and the next moment, he was rushing about preaching of death and hellfire. No matter how hard he pleaded, nobody listened, not even the people living in the newly rebuilt village of Abhazol, where Xharûn grew up until it was razed to the ground by bandits.

Having given up hope on humanity, a despondent Xharûn had spent the previous 4 years forcefully amassing a library of arcane books, from the greatest of the Ancient Northern Wizards like Illushu the Dark, Tar-Vanjatta the Bronze, Hömuln Iron-Fist, and so on. 183 books was all he could save. Many times, the library owners caught up, seizing the books and bringing them back into the musty, unused cellars where they had always been kept. Other times, angry villagers unaware of the significance of their volumes would attack him, burning the books. One mayor even shredded a book of philosophy and ate it on the spot, just to prevent that old geezer Xharûn from laying his hands on it. And virtually every village he went to eventually promulgated laws restricting entry to non-wizards only.

That was all over now. The Seeing Stone, which Xharûn had kept with him for the four years that he went on his travels, began to quiver disturbingly. Hairline cracks gushed through the once immaculate ball of rock crystal. He knew the time had come. Loading the volumes onto the ship, as well as his horse, the Ocean Magus hastily raised his anchor and set off, as the Seeing Stone's vibrations grew more and more violent. Already, he could feel the slightest tremors of the water changing the alignment of the plates below. As he took routes and turnings never before taken, he stumbled across an amazing discovery.

It was a large island, round, around 62 square kilometres in area. Stepping off and gently keeping the stone in a small leather bag, Xharûn took a walk along the coast, taking long looks at the most prominent features. He noticed that the sand eventually gave way to scenic grassy plains. Standing on top of a boulder, Xharûn looked at the inland of the island. A bubbling spring, its water clear and overflowing with the promise of life, was flowing down from somewhere further inland. Little flowers grew along the banks of the river, as the creek's liquid energy sustained all that grew around it. While nobody told him anything, he knew, deep down inside, that a higher power had, somehow, created this island for him during his four years of absence from the great Ocean. He knew, deep down inside, that it was his key to escaping the hellfire that was to come.

Rushing back to where he had left all his belongings, Xharûn loaded the books onto his cart, dragging it off the Maakjura and piling the cargo in neat stacks on the plains. With that done, he gently coaxed his horse, Alvus, off of the ship. The terrified mare whinnied in fear, but eventually complied, joining Xharûn on the shore. It was a shame the Maakjura could never be dragged onto land by one man and one horse; otherwise, it would have made great material for a home. Digging through the books, Xharûn tried to find a way out of an apocalypse. A strange cracking noise flittered through the air. The dreaded hour was upon him. Taking the Stone out of the ball, Xharûn realised in horror that the hairline cracks on the surface of the Stone were becoming more prominent, signifying something terrible approaching.

Book after book, volume after volume, and he finally found that which he needed. A book that would help with the first step to his survival and escape from death.

Island Levitation and the Art Surrounding It

Celibedai Gudoul-Ishi

Gudoul-Ishi was, as everybody knew, an utter monster. His actions over 300 years ago led to the slaughter of over 2,000 innocent men and women. Despite this, he was a great wielder of the arcane arts, and that was exactly what Xharûn needed now. Leafing through the 1,377 page book and chanting whatever incantations were required, Xharûn desperately issued a silent plea for his plan to work. And indeed it did, for that moment, the roots of the island crumbled as the landmass pulled itself into the air, whooshing into the sky. And a very timely occurrence it was, for at that very moment, Xharûn's Seeing Stone shattered, the fiery visions vanishing. At the same time, from where he was standing, the Ocean Magus could see his beloved vessel, the Maakjura, engulfed by fiery tongues from below. Red lights spread everywhere, consuming everything below Xharûn's island.

For the first time in his life, Xharûn witnessed the spectacular event that was fire putting out water.

Leaning on his staff, his long white hair flowing in the headwinds, Xharûn felt a sharp pang of despondence in his heart as the people, the very people who had so wildly mocked him before, were now desperately running about, attempting to save the last of their personal treasures before being consumed by the dark fires from God knew where.

Never before had Xharûn felt so alone in his life. Everything he once knew was now burning below him. As the island soared high above the dark clouds, revealing a dreadful yellow sky, he dropped his staff, slumping down on the wet sand of the island and clutching his heart in dejection. Despite the hostility of his fellow humans, their laws against him, they were still, in the end, humans. They didn't deserve to go to their death. Yet they did, and alone he sat, on the wet sands of the island, watching the fiery ball of hydrogen sink lower and lower below the horizon.

A single glimmering tear rolled out of Xharûn's electric blue eyes as the dark sky above him covered the canopies of the world like wallpaper. His head propped up against Island Levitation and the Art Surrounding It, the lonely Magus silently closed his eyes, his soul drifting off into the world of Dreams.

One woe was over, the rest were yet to come.

…

…

Xharûn… come over… here… hurk!…

Master Maakjura!

I want you… to take this…

But Master, that's your staff!

I'm… dying. You'll be able to… put it to much better use than I… or my master, its creator… ever did…

But Master…

… Go!…

…

Yes, Master. I won't fail you…

…

The next morning, a groggy Xharûn opened his eyes, only to see a blank blue canopy looking down at him with invisible eyes. It was hard to believe that the events of the previous night were all a reality, but to do so was a necessity for his survival. Many times, he had cheated death before. This time would be different, in the sense that death would not be cheated, but stalled. But ultimately, could death ever be cheated? Was "cheating death" merely just postponing it?

Such philosophical questions could wait till another day. First and foremost was survival. Xharûn noticed, with great relief, that the spring was, in a sense, never ending. Having taken a long morning walk around the (now floating) island, the old wizard noticed that a complex system of condensation ensured that the serene creeks never ran dry. A little exploration of the caves below led him to the collusion that this spring, as far as he was concerned, was everlasting. Even if it was not, his water magic would ensure otherwise. Indeed, hope sprang eternal.

More worrying was the problem of food. There was nothing edible on the cart except for a number of barley loaves and a glass decanter of pomegranate wine. According to Xharûn's calculations, that would last him at most 2 days, before it all ran out. The wine, maybe a little longer, but not the bread. Eating grass and wildflowers was most certainly out of the question, as was eating Alvus or the books. Xharûn decided to explore the island a little more, in the hope of finding something remotely edible. Popping a small rind of bread into his mouth, the wizard took his staff, walking around the island.

A few hours passed, and before he knew it, it was noon. Nothing edible, only grass and wildflowers everywhere. Food… that was something he needed to worry about now. As far as he knew, there was no spell in existence that could produce nourishment of any sort from nothing. Sitting back on a stack of books, the cart and the horse just behind him, Xharûn rested his staff on his lap, looking out into the blue sky, looking for any trace of hope…

[Astrolinium]

"Halloo yon faire ƿee genteel falk on high ƿhat alle þro' þ^e nicht doþ ſlepleſs lie!"

The shout echoed against the stones like pebbles bounced upon the tensed surface of a sylvan pond -- no more of those, he thought with a strange glee. Turning in another direction, he called again.

"Þus ƿolden ſpake þ^e giant o' þ^e man, þo' findeþ hem he'd næ þe poƿer ƿhan y-ronde y-lie þ^e erþe yn fire ſlayne, niver to beſpaken for a-gayne."

He giggled, then, a high-pitched, birdlike chortle. He turned again, and called out once more, taking care to note the way the sound echoed against the stone.

"An' þus ƿhich giant ƿalkeþ per þ^e gronde, a-callen þus at no-þing all y-ronde."

One more turn, one more shout.

"An' ƿolden he to crion ƿhiþer y-ƿende, for everƿiþ'r y-goon y-fonde næ frende."

Seeming quite pleased again, Galbo Sintirelon shut the book not without some passionate force, a cloud of dust floating up into the air, much of it settling in his wizardly beard so long and white. He tutted loudly, and in a high, thin voice, far more refined than the gruff, hearthy one he'd just been using, said, "Indeed, I did say I'd outlive you, my dear Jeffrey. And here I stand, calling your words, three hundred years aged, at nothing. No one again will hear them, no one again will read them, and no one again will understand such fraudulently antiquated speech. An' ƿolden he to crion indeed!"

Throwing the book -- On þ^e Rekonynge of þ^e Endes of Dayes, or Þ^e Giant yn þ^e Darkeneſs* -- at the ground with the same amount of pomp and ceremony he afforded to trips to his chamberpot, he hiked up his shimmering purple robes and ran gleefully outside.

He sighed as the the sight of the rising sun disappointed him, shoulders slumping.

"How horrifically mundane. Hmph. The end of the world as we know it and everything seems to feel fine. That's the thing about reality, though, I suppose. There's no drama to it. Even the apocalypse itself... sure, there was fire, sure, there was screaming, but what about the manifestations of deities and epic battle and where is the love story?"

He sighed again, shoulders slumping somehow further, the sun's warmth and light hitting his face, the wind causing his beard to tremble dramatically.

"Well," he said, "better get to the work of What Comes Next."

He then proceeded to unbutton his robe, walk to the edge, and piss off it, watching the golden stream of urine fall into the roiling mists with a theologician's fascination.

"Perhaps," he said, shaking away the last few drops, "the sun's heat will burn off some of the mist and we shall see where the moon goes in fullness of day. I wonder if it shall ever rain again -- I do hope so. Would be terribly undramatic to die of thirst, if hardly unexpected from reality."

He pulled his robe back on, though he did not bother to button it, and walked to his garden. It was a small plot, fenced in with wooden pickets -- certainly necessary protection against the fearsome maw of the Hon. Suzie Louise, who was currently in the process of subsisting on the nearby grass, utterly unperturbed by the previous night's events. But then, it is known that goats are of Satan. But they're good milk animals, and fine company in a pinch, after a fashion.

Galbo walked over to the goat, scratching behind her ears. "Ah, Suzie Louise," he said, "whatever shall we do now? Just you and me, old gal."

As he did so, he eyes the garden, where cabbages and potatoes were growing in a rather merry manner, considering that they were quite possibly the last of their ilk. Galbo thought that, surely, there must have been others who knew, who foresaw, who built. Better, more powerful wizards. But had they made it? Had he made it? He had no proof that this was not After -- the Vituli, certainly, believed that a virtuous man was afforded his own private island in the Above when they went to what came After. But Galbo -- quite righly, he deemed -- supposed that, were he dead, he would have noticed sooner, and that if this were After, he would have more goats and fewer cabbages.

"Well," he said, "I suppose we can finally finish my treatise on the effects of the woodland mushroom on the mental process in comparison to solitary confinement. Certainly, I can hardly be bothered to bother with keeping up this garden while I do so-so and other sundry wizardly accoutrements of power in the floating lonely. Best work up an enchantment, dontcha think?"

Clearing his throat and rolling up his sleeves, front still bared (a bit floppily) to the wind, he waved his hands mystically over the garden.

"Bibine babine bobine blu, sastra vastra nastra du! Aghin blon var æn talwæn, ghou esiu as galanæn!**" he said, over and over again, purple sparkles floating away from his hands over the cabbages and potatoes.

---

*The text of which, reproduced here, reads roughly: "Hello, small royal people who lie sleepless all night in the distance! So the giant wanted to say to the men, though he found he had not the ability when the earth lay all around him consumed by fire, never to be spoken with again. And thus the giant walked the earth, calling in this manner at the void around him. And as he went, he wanted to cry, for everywhere he went, he found no friend."

**Which, reproduced in Common, reads roughly: "Mumbo jumbo wumbo way, hocus pocus fafty fay! Let them hale and let them grow, those things which sustain me so!"

[Krugmar]

Light slowly creeped into Odilo's room, irritating his crusty old eyelids and causing his head to bob slightly as he began to wake up. With a great effort he tore them open, groaning in a mix of pain and anger as he did. A large yawn erupted from his mouth as he stretched his arms out, his joints clicking and weak muscles threatening to collapse. "Michael, bring me my slippers" he shouted into the empty manor, unaware that his servant Michael had not been fortunate enough to join him on the unexpected journey into the clouds. "Michael! Michael!" he shouted again in desperation, would he have to brave the cold floor and find the slippers on his own? That was not what the Arch-Architect of the Academy should have to go through, it was inhumane.

"Blast, where be that stupid boy?" he asked himself, pressing his feet onto the cold floor with a grimace. He floundered around for a few seconds, dressed only in his briefs, trying to find his nice soft slippers. They were constantly eluding him, he was convinced that one of his fellows had placed a hide-and-seek enchantment on them. They all denied it, but Odilo knew they were lying. He ripped open his closet and shouted "AHA!" only to find his dirty brown robes and not his comfortable old slippers. He arched his back, popping part of his spine back into the correct place with a satisfying pop, and sighed happily in relief. Yet his mission was not over, he began the great tracking of his slippers, he would be like a bloodhound in many regards.

Unfortunately he lacked the sniffing aspect required for a successful bloodhound, so he had to make do with his ailing eyes. He stumbled around his house, still half-asleep despite the numbing coldness of the floor, knocking into every wall. He embarked upon the incredible journey that every old wizard must do, attempting to get down the stairs. Some momentous amount of time later he actually reached the bottom, panting away and dabbing the sweat off of his forehead with his head. There they were, shining like gold in the daylight, his fluffy slippers shaped in the image of a rabbit. He carefully pulled them onto his gnarled feet, squealing with delight as he placed his now warm feet onto the cold surface.

He made his way out of the door, intending to find Michael and give him a damn good beating for making him go through such a traumatizing experience. "Oh that's right, I'm on an Island" he said to himself, chuckling slightly as the memory came back to him. "They are all dead" he said solemnly, before bursting out into laughter for a few moments, "Good riddance, didn't need them anyway". He made his way around his small little island, finding the sad little vegetable patch that he had neglected. He had an idea, he was going to grow his favourite vegetable and nobody could tell him off for it anymore.

"Hocus Pocus Parsnip Nowcus!" he shouted, waving his finger at the patch and expecting a large amount of parsnips to suddenly appear. A few minutes passed as he eagerly awaited his favoured treat, dribbling slightly onto his chest. Perhaps he should have attended more of Professor... whatshisname's lessons? There was far more important work to be doing at the time however, such as building and sculpting. It was then that he realised how chilly it was, why was it so chilly if he was dressed? He looked down and realised that he was only in his briefs, having forgotten to put on his usual sleeping robe. He quickly hurried inside at a brisk pace, intending to grab his robe quickly and perhaps some breakfast if he had the time.

[Traders Union]

Jaqen's island
Jaqen awoke to a confusing sight. Half of his pet, somethingorother, was staring at him straight in the face. The other half was walking around in confused circles. Oddly enough, nothing else seemed odd around his room. No randomly appearing or disappearing objects, no new portals to parts of his tower. Once a portal sent him exactly a third of a foot to his left. Rather useless that one. Focusing back at somethingorother, Jaqen started at his face for a bit.
"Silly dog, did you walk into my new singularity again? I thought the last time would've stopped you." he said in a mock scolding voice. Finally standing up, Jaqen remembered that a package he ordered, containing various magical substances. Essence of drought, a few pigs foot, the usual really. Come to think of it, the package should have arrived by now. Bloody postal service being incompetent as usual, the package boy probably fell asleep, something I would never do Jaqen thought to himself as he was dressing in his usual silver robes. Today he decided to wear a lighter robe. He has projects to finish, long robes would just interfere with his work. A robe in a singularity is a very uncomfortable thing. Jaqen found this out the hard way when he was younger and...rasher.
Walking down the spiral staircase from the top floor, his personal observatory and place of residence. Jaqen thought of how to finish his temporal project. Small scale testing has shown him that smaller objects or crude devices could easily be manipulated. The exact extent that they could be manipulated by Jaqen is still unknown. It would take Jaqen too long to personally test every object. He never trusted others to help him, probably steal anything he gave the "assistants," Jaqen would always say. This problem was only recently solved by Jaqen. One of his greatest ideas he would boast to himself or anyone who could possibly hear him. They don't have to understand really, just now I'm making something no one else can, Jaqen thought to himself while walking down the staircase. His solution is what he deems as "Magical Beings That Do Not Require Food Or Care." M.B.T.D.N.R.F.O.C for short. Most people would call them shades or something. Jaqen has no clue why someone would do such a thing. His name is a lot easier to remember if you think about it. Shades are beings of raw ether magic, capable of interacting with physical objects. They are unstable, meaning that they can malfunction. Jaqen does not know what would happen if this would occur, but he believes it would not be pretty.
Reaching his laboratory, Jaqen noticed, much to his chagrin, that the runes he made earlier appear to not be working. Jaqen sighed, it would take him valuable time to repair them. He would rather spend his time on his shade work. Life will be a lot easier once those are made. Reaching the landing, Jaqen looked over at his thermometer, a device he crafted when he was a young wizard. Still worked, why replace it?
Jaqen noted happily that the weather was fair outside, no need for another robe.
Stepping outside, Jaqen immediately noticed a few things. First, the clouds looked very good today. Second, there seemed to be more clouds than usual. Thirdly, he couldn't see the town spire as usual. Taking a few steps forward, Jaqen looked down. That was a mistake. Jaqen suffers from a fear of heights, and it was very high up now. Stepping abruptly back, Jaqen thought to himself for a few minutes. He then realized that most of the earth, had in fact vanished. Stealing the land itself is pretty genius of robbers, he thought to himself. No, robbers couldn't do that stupid, only a wizard would do this, Jaqen thought to himself. Turning around, Jaqen walked back into his tower to record this new event, study it, fix those blasted runes and research more into his "Shade" project. Food would happen sometime in there.
As he re-entered the tower, Jaqen realized that getting new food might be a tad bit difficult. Stupid land vanishing on him, he thought to himself. If he ever finds out who or what caused this, they are going to get it.


A few hours later, after fixing the stupid runes and setting up for a shade trial, Jaqen finally ate. Instead of his usual spot, his lab, he decided to go up to his roof. Try something new and all that. Yawning, Jaqen sits down to eat his sandwich and soup. Gazing out into the sky, his mind wonders to thoughts of fully operational shades helping him, his pet not walking into temporal fields, and how an event of this could happen. A lot of magic would be required to cause the earth to vanish. Most likely an experienced wizard. Old also. Focusing his attention to the east, Jaqen notices something odd in the clouds. "Almost looks like a tower or something. I don't recall any wizards near me. Maybe someone new became a wizard. I'll have to grab my enhanced sight drought," he thought to himself, setting down his food, and rushing down to his lab and grabbing the drought. After draining the flask (tastes of stale water if you want to know) he ran back up to the roof. Focusing his new found vision towards the spire. Much to his surprise, there is indeed a tower. "Great, a neighbor. How to reach him/her/it is the question. Possibly a temporal passage? Never done one that far before. Need to-," before Jaqen could finish his train of thought, he already ran towards his lab, grabbed as many flasks as possible, and started down to the patch of trees he saved to begin testing.

[Seno Zhou Varada]

The wonderful morning. His small stone and would Vista like home he had made himself at the top of the floating island.The brilliant window shone in a rainbow of colors (thanks to some magical tinkering) dazziling the hardwood floor with a clear white carpet. The bed also of hardwood with large comfortable cream colored pillows and soft blankets. And a small fire surrounded by stone even though the wooden floor would never burn (magical tinkering). The soft smoke drifted up the chimney into the endless sky and ashes drifting upwards with small embers floating out of the fireplace drifting around in the air till they cooled off and dropped down slowly and gently landing on the dark floor and white carpet. The other rooms decorated in a similar fashion to the bedroom. This was certainly better than his old shack.

The outside with a small wooden porch area and the small garden with a small apple tree, some lovely potatoes, and a cricket farm, about the size of a chicken coop. In the town the few times he needed to visit they never served bugs. A shame considering they were actually pretty tasty. Luckily those crickets ate the farm waste so any food he didn't eat didn't need to wait to be compost, it could be food for the crickets! With those crickets also producing waste that could be used for fertilizer. A mad genius if he did say so himself. The forest with many deep greens was also a wonderful place for food. A stone path led down to the forest, many trees alongside the path, birds and animals making noise and berry bushes all around the central piece. The beautiful astral node. A giant diamond shaped object seemed to hover a few feet above the ground with a small amount of water coming from the tip top of it into a small pond which many animals were drinking out of. The magical energy radiated from it in a light greenish-blue which when he stood near it seemed to slowly restore his magical energy faster.

Now onto the work for the week. While there was an abundance of food currently he needed to help keep the ground fertile, diseases from spreading, the animals from overpopulating, and the trees not getting proper pruning... what he has now quite a lot of free time and now he can start pruning those monsters. Anyways Iswald would be getting to work on his small garden and his forest. Manure and waste would be collected and either given to the crickets or used as fertilizer. Any diseased plant areas or if needed entire plants would be cut and what was left of them if it couldn't be used thrown off the edge. The crickets would make a lovely meal with perhaps a small bit of meat from this overly fertile squirrel... oh I'm sorry so yeah some meat maybe, crickets, perhaps summon in something else. So basically garden and forest work.

[Alleniana]

Twisting and turning. Black, and blue, and white and blue and all the colours of the rainbow, shaking and roaring. An island, floating in a blue void, and then cracking, disintegrating, a crack appearing between his feet. He tried to jump, but they were glued there. And then the dirt crumbled, and there was nothing there but vegetables, rabbits, bricks, books, pieces of his life coming away from him.

He looked up, and so was the rest of the world. Spinning around in endless circles, the world, slowly dissipating, crumbling into dust and the dust floating away on the blue, slowly fading as well. Nothing but him, twisting and turning.

Everything turned to that blue, that bluish white, slowly fading away as if his own vision was disappearing. A pot plant flew though the air next to him, as if he was only drifting down like some sack of feathers. He nearly laughed.

And then everything turned to black, a dreadful, life-ending black, not even a pitch black but simply a black that was the absence of anything. He couldn't see, he couldn't feel, all he knew was that he was falling and his stomach was roiling and everything and everyone was dead.

And a shaking. Someone else! Shaking! The first thing he became aware of was the sweat, and then the face of his wife, shaking him from his sleep, his eyes bolting open and his whole body tensing before he realised where he was.

In bed, covered in sweat, next to his wife, having a goddamn nightmare. Or, having had, rather.

Her almond-shaped brown eyes almost struck him in the gloom, a pre-dawn light that wasn't night, wasn't day and wasn't simply in between either. But he looked at her, and didn't see the turquoise gloom. She was there, and the bed was there, and the island was there. His heart rate slowed, his breathing too, and he relaxed. He quickly became aware of how tense he was, and he loosened up. Alright. Just a nightmare, just a dream, he was fine. But the black.

He stared at the roof, and then blinked a few times and wiped his forehead.

She moved aside, knowing he was properly awake, and he in turn sat up as well, pushing the blankets down and cooling himself. For once, they spoke no words, just companionable silence linking the couple. She sat up too, and the two sat there, the broody night dissipating and the cool, calm silence coming in, the calm of dawn. But though it was normally his favourite time, the blue still lingered, a shadow on the edge of his mind, raggedly clinging on. The nothingness, the falling... that was all real.

Pushing his mind from the mists, he decided he should go for a walk, or a stroll, or anything to clear his brain of the dream. Leaning over and giving his wife a quick peck on the cheek, whereupon her own sleepy self smiled and slumped down again slowly, he rolled over and got up. He was a morning person, and this morning of all mornings he needed to get to business. He put on a sort of robe; the sort of simple clothing he had taken to now that society was gone. Gone with its judging and malice, but too, gone with its laughter and smiles and vibrancy. And gone with all its food that he needed to make sure he could keep producing. There it was, the first thought about something concrete that day. He was fine now.

As his young wife closed her eyes again, he left the stone-walled bedroom, already feeling the dread of the nightmare having slipped away into the softer, gentler darkness of his own home, familiar nooks and crannies gently dispersing his dreams. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, it had all been sapped away, the sun rising to burn away the mist just on the horizon for the seconds while it could, and his home as it would be on any day. Yes, things were fine now. Just fine. He resolved to make breakfast, finding his slippers and wearing them around the kitchen as he fetched the vegetable stew from last night.

It didn't look all that appealing, but food was nothing to be wasted these days. He fetched some water from the kitchen's supply, the only source of potable water the island hand, and added it to the stew. The heat had begun to dry it up, and though the lid on it had prevented it going off, it still needed some rejuvenation, so to speak. Reaching to start a fire and then thinking better of it, he replaced two bowls from the shelf next to him onto the bench by the stove, and ladled two bowls full. Then, in his first use of magic that day, he popped some sweet croutons into existence, and dropped them in. A cool, watery, sweet soup with a bit of texture to start the day off. Not bad if he said so himself.

He put it on the table and then turned, fetching two wooden spoons and placing them by the bowls. Remembering, he then put the lid back on the pot of stew, and resolved to eat when his wife did. Time for his walk. Someone had to keep the vegetables company, after all, and someone had to watch the grass grow.

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Ada's Island - Day 1 - Noon

Before she knew it, the sun, which was just beginning its long trip across the sky when she had awakened and begun working on her beautiful little garden, had already reached its zenith on the everdistant sky, casting its life-giving rays directly upon her floating bastion of fertility. Indeed, she had spent quite a while on that particular deed, carving runes and drawing circles in order to properly prepare a powerful enchantment that would greatly increase the fertility of her garden, ensuring that she would always have nutrient-rich soil on which to plant her precious seeds, which in turn meant that she would always have a steady supply of tasty vegetables to feed upon. Her food source was, thus, secured, at least for the short term, and the thought that she wouldn't be starving for the time being pleased her immensely. Of course, she didn't know exactly how strong her enchantment could be, or if it was entirely accurate, but she was confident in her ability as a wizard, the Earth Witch no less, and also certain that all those hours she had diligently poured into such an endeavor had to be worth something, and so, she smiled at her garden, eager to see the results of her labor in the near future.

However, as she did a little dance to celebrate having finished her enchantment, spinning happily on the balls of her feet and outstretching her arms under the warm sunlight while her black hair fluttered merrily behind her, she had another thought. Her previous endeavor was bound to keep her well fed in the future, yes, but what about water? She had some reserves of that, of course, since no one in their sane mind would forget to stock up on water while planning on how to survive the apocalypse, but those reserves would last her a week at most, and so, once they ran out, she wouldn't last very long until succumbing to thirst and dying of dehydration. She would have to think of how to fix this, as well... but as she looked up at the sky and remembered that it was noon already, she decided that she would see to that once she had eaten something. Working on an empty stomach was not a good idea, certainly not for one who was meant to shape a new world, and so, Ada Terratraza, seventh of her name, returned to her castle after enchanting her garden.

Walking inside, she wandered through the castle, which was quite frankly a mess, as the tan-skinned woman had never been any good at housework and there was no one to do it for her anymore. Stumbling onto the kitchen, she began rummaging through her food reserves before finally finding what she had come here looking for: A watermelon. Letting out a triumphant cry, she took the fruit, a knife and a large plate, and ran off towards the dinning area like a thief with her loot. Once there, she cut the watermelon in half, and took one half back to where she had taken the large fruit from, intending to make sure it was fresh for later, also making sure to clean the knife and store it for later use. Quickly heading back, she took the remaining half watermelon into her hands... and ate it just like that, bite by bite, rind, flesh and seeds alike, devouring the thing indiscriminately. She usually didn't do that, but both the seeds and the rind were edible as well, if not quite as tasty as the flesh itself, and during these uncertain times she wasn't going to waste any potential food if she could help it. Thus, she ate the fruit whole, leaving nothing of it. And as she finished, she let out a satisfied sigh and looked happily at the ceiling. Watermelons had always been her favorite, ever since she was a child, and this had stayed consistent, even through the apocalypse. Plus, they were quite the watery fruits, and she was thankful for that, since it meant that she would experience less thirst than expected.

Indeed, perhaps getting a water supply wasn't so important, but even if she was capable of hydrating herself from the juices of her fruits rather than pure water, she still wanted to be able to take a bath now and then. Thus, still sitting on her spacious dinning hall, the Earth Witch propped her feet up on the table and wondered what she could do to fix the situation. As she continued looking at the ceiling, a hint of an answer popped up in her mind. Rain. Rain was certainly going to keep happening, or at least that's what she wanted to believe, because otherwise her garden was just going to wither anyway. So, rain. It would moisturize her island and water the plants, but if she wanted to give it another use, she would need something to gather the rain water on. What could she use in order to fulfill that purpose?

Ada almost smacked herself when she thought of an answer. Of course! She wasn't the Earth Witch for nothing after all, and she was determined to assert that once more. Heading to the storeroom on the first floor of her castle, she retrieved a shovel and walked back out of her fortress, out onto her hallowed grounds in the sky. Spotting a nice, sufficiently wide area on her main island, she began digging, shoveling bit after bit of dirt out of the slowly growing hole in her land, though she made sure not to make it too deep, lest she reach the underside of her island and fall off into oblivion. Instead, she compensated by making it quite wide as well, and arranging the dirt she had dug out of the hole on the edges of it, as if to artificially increase the depth of the depression, thus increasing the volume of water it could hold, for that was the purpose designated for that hole: it was to function as a pond, holding water whenever it rained so that it would be of use to its owner, the Earth Witch.

However, her work there wasn't quite finished yet, as she still had to do one last thing, one that would represent another investment of her magical energy. Slowly but surely, she carried on with the task at hand, preparing a spell for her water container. It took her a while, there was no denying that, but in the end, it paid off nicely. The superficial dirt that delimited the pond was swiftly turned into a collection of rocks firmly set in place. This last measure was taken in order to make sure that the pond's water would be clear instead of muddy, and so, with that, Ada's new endeavor came to a conclusion. Now she would be able to get some water whenever it rained, which was quite satisfying. Her island was already impervious to erosion anyway, so she had nothing to worry about on that end.

Looking up, Ada could no longer see the golden orb of flames on its rightful throne atop the skies, and realized it had long since left the point of its zenith. It astounded her to notice how much she could get concentrated in her work, so much that she had completely ignored the passage of time while preparing her artificial pond. Now the sun was hiding beneath the clouds of dust, dusk falling upon the world. She had spent more than enough magical energy for the day, she decided, feeling a bit mentally drained after all that hard work, and so she figured she could spend some time down in her little empty island of soil before the darkness of the night completely blanketed the sky. Skipping over to the edge of her main island, she climbed down the ladder, finding herself down in her virgin terrain, attached to the shard of skybound earth that housed her castle via powerful binding magic that had taken more than a long while to prepare. She outstretched her arms, and skipped and ran along the length of the island like a child, relaxing her body after the hard work of digging a ditch and transmutating it into rock. Figuring that it wouldn't hurt, she decided to get in some good exercise as well, determined not to let her body grow frail and unreliable in this brave new world. It was the healthy thing to do, after all. It improved her physical condition and helped get those pesky magic circuits up and running at full steam.

Once she was done, she climbed up the ladder and returned to her castle. All that exertion, physical and magical alike, had left her quite hungry, and so she walked back inside and found and devoured the remaining half of her watermelon, before heading outside. By then, the stars were already up and shining with their full splendor, and, enthralled by their glow, Ada decided to simply lie down with her back on the ground and stare up at the stars as she conversed with herself in her mind. Indeed, with stars on her eyes and her beloved earth on her back, with the breeze caressing her and the dirt whispering sweet words and lullabies into her ears, she was in the best position to meditate to replenish her energy and reflect on the events of the day. Only a single day, and she felt that she had already accomplished quite a bit, considering she was only one person. Who knew what else she would come to accomplish in a month, or a year, or more? It was quite a fascinating prospect, and thinking about it made the woman feel warm inside. Determined to keep on living, to keep on creating, she decided that she would make this her routine from now on: She would rise early to meet the radiant dawn and tend to her plants, and then devote the vast majority of the day to whatever endeavor she thought of. After dark, she would devote a couple of hours to exercising to keep herself in good shape and meditating to give her mind some respite as well, and finally, she would rest and recover during the night, all of that while making sure to keep herself well fed and hydrated. It seemed like a solid plan for the time being, so she felt that there was little point in adding to it now. Thus, her thoughts drifted once again towards the future, and as she thought of what it would bring, her sepia eyes fluttered shut and she herself drifted to the land of dreams.


Ada's Island - Days 2-7 - Summary

During the following week, Ada continued working on her little island, eager to make it as comfortable and practical as possible.

On the second day, she worked on expanding the garden and planting a few more of her seeds on it, also making sure to expand the fertilizing enchantment she had placed on the garden the previous day, so that it would apply to the expansion as well.

On the third day, she cast a purifying encantment on the stone pond, to ensure that the water it caught from the rain would always be clean for her.

The fourth day, she spent her hours making watermelon wine on a whim. Who knows when she might decide that she wanted to get drunk and find herself unable to?

On the fifth day, she did some work preparing some earth expansion spells, knowing perfectly that it would take a very, very long time for her to be able to add any substantial ammount of land to her islands but believing that it was a wortwhile endeavor to spend at least one day a week preparing such massive spells for when she needed them.

Day six was mostly spent tinkering around with some tools and giving some order to her castle, cleaning it up a bit. She even found an old spyglass she used during her childhood, which brought her lots of memories. Sadness overtook her for a moment, but the strength of her heart imposed itself over those negative feelings, such was her determination to continue her work.

And on the seventh day, she rested, after a week full of fruitful endeavors.

During the night of the seventh day, sitting on the edge of her bastion toying around with her spyglass as her legs dangled above the void, she saw... something, to the west of her own island. "Is it...? No, it can't be. But what if it is...?" Such were the conflicting thoughts that ran through the mind of the Earth Witch as she studied the object more and more carefully. And as she continued observing it through the lenses of her spyglass, she was able to tell: it was another island, another island in the sky. Ada was completely amazed. Surely Cergun didn't randomly eject a mass of land into the sky before disappearing, so this was undoubtedly the work of someone else... right? She chose to believe so, in hopes of finding that she was not alone by herself after the end of the world, but there was still no way to prove it, and such a realization was almost meaningless when a large chasm of void and sky separated them.

But the clever woman soon had an idea to fix that. Rushing back into her castle, she rummaged through her things, eventually finding an empty bottle, a pencil and a piece of parchment. Eagerly, she wrote a message on it, taking some time to detail how to cast a simple object levitation spell just in case whoever was on the other side didn't know how to despite somehow sending an island into the sky. Afterwards, she placed the piece of paper into the bottle, and, heading back to the western edge of her island, she cast the very same spell she had explained on the back of the parchment upon the bottle, before raising it and sending it off to find its way to the other island. If there was someone on the other side, and they could read and use magic, then surely they would respond to her message, no? She certainly hoped so, her heart now bearing the burden of hope and its evil twin which reared its ugly head whenever she thought that perhaps her expectations were for naught. And so with this hopeful heart she watched the bottle drift away.

Hello? Is anyone there? My name is Ada. I survived Cergun's fall. If you receive this, please at least let me know that I'm not alone. There are instructions on how to cast a levitation spell on this bottle on the back of the message you're reading, in case you can use magic. My island is the one that is floating to the east of yours. If you receive this message, please respond. I would appreciate knowing that someone else survived.

That night, the Earth Witch couldn't sleep until late, for the knowledge that someone else might have survived placed a heavy burden on her heart.

[Bunkeranlage]

Day I

The first day of solitude had passed already. Standing by the spring on his island, the great Ocean Magus rested on his staff, his long, white hair flowing in the headwinds of the high altitude. So far, his days had been rather lonely. After all, Alvus spent his time with himself, munching placidly on grass. His books, he piled into his castle in the middle of the island. Much of the day had been spent arranging the books in alphabetical order. From those by Aavôl the Blue all the way to those by Zyugalzar the Illusionist, every single one of the 183 books he had taken in the last four years was now stacked into his personal library. Xharûn could not help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

The irony was that, despite having written 4 books in his lifetime, Xharûn didn't have a single one of his own in that enormous library. Having memorised all of them, he didn't feel any need to do so. Also, since they were all about the manipulation of water, it would be redundant for him, the foremost authority on water magic, to keep books on the subject lying around in an alcove of limited space. If he had had a library in Cergun, the option to leave them there as a bragging right might have at least scraped the surface of his mind. Now, though, bragging was unnecessary. He wasn't one to brag, anyway.

I don't see any point in showing off. Often, most people can tell how little you really know.

Despite the task being mundane to most other people, the Ocean Magus felt a sense of... comfort... in doing something so meaningless. After all, he had just witnessed the total annihilation of everything he once knew. Meaning, if it even existed anymore, was no more than a faint shadow on the blankness of eternal vacuity. All that was left for him was to simply accept that life would be in vain from now on, and that it would be best to enjoy it while it lasted. While stacking the books, Xharûn took the opportunity to leaf through a few of them and skim their content in the hope of finding something interesting. A few caught his attention for their extraordinary content, such as Sańusvanar the Golden's account on the Great War of Teleovan 7,000 years ago. Others, he noticed because of the sheer horror that permeated their pages, like Huron the Torturer's book on torture spells. A few did not even make any sense at all, an example being Aknadin the Fallen's Millennium Spell Book, which only detailed instructions on how to create some strange golden jewellery. Of course, as Xharûn knew, it would be unwise to throw away a book just because it was gibberish. Often, what one did not understand at some point would later come back to help him when he least expected and most needed.

Having read through the books and packed them into the empty stone alcoves in the little castle at the centre of the island, Xharûn decided to go out to walk about his island. Such a huge island, and the majority of it was comprised of grassy, rolling plains and an intricate network of clear spring water. As he stepped gingerly into the cooling waters, washing himself, Xharûn reflected upon his life, both the old one, and the new, meaningless one. Whether the Creator wished to impart anything into it, to weave him back into the endless tapestry of time, he did not yet know. As Alvus trotted over, whinnying merrily, the old Magus sighed. If only he could live like the horse, unaware of the vanity of life, spending all his days galloping freely in the wind. No, even the horse did not have that freedom to live life as he wished. Life was empty now. And that emptiness was mandatory.

The dying sun quickly sank below the horizon, giving way to the darkness of night. The green dancers flittered across the sky, leaving their numinous trails of light on the black textile of the late night sky. From his bedroom on the second floor of the castle, the Magus watched the magnificent dance of the lights, orchestrated by an unseen conductor. They gave him the hope that, even in the bleak despair of the aimless existence, he could still be free and joyful. Even in his old age, that was not unobtainable...

Day II

A new day brought a new beginning and new opportunities. The little garden that Xharûn found at the back of the castle that morning was a godsend, in that he would be able to grow plants for eating, albeit just tomatoes and potatoes. Digging about the insides of the castle, Xharûn was able to find a number of sprouting potatoes and tomato seeds lying about. Wasting no time, he immediately went to the garden and planted the seeds, whispering a life water spell that sent little drizzles of fresh water sprinkling over the plants, allowing them to sprout faster. Now, food wasn't a problem anymore.

Satisfied with this new achievement, the Ocean Magus decided to take another walk around the sides of the island. The sun had barely reached its peak, sending rays of beautiful light raining upon the old wizard and everything on his island. His staff in one hand, Xharûn strode about the edges of the island, looking out into the blank horizon. He was mercifully unable to look upon the devastation that, no doubt, raged on below. The cloud canopy separated him from the horrors of the apocalypse that was ravaging Cergun from the bottom up.

Somehow, this only made him feel worse. They in the North of Cergun knew, all along, that it was going to happen. As the old Northern saying went, "Eðelnur Veþhaå Cærgúnus Heldaiðúr", literally "The Burst of the Eternal Cergunian Fires". As the millennia went by, what the Northerners knew as a fact soon became challenged by a new generation, who believed themselves to be invincible. Time passed, and the revelation soon became a prophecy, prophecy became premonition, premonition became legend. Eventually, it was regarded as naught but folklore. And he, Xharûn the Ocean Magus, had witnessed that legend swirl into a hideous reality. No amount of fanciful astrology or superstition was going to change that.

Xharûn, having taken two walks already, soon became more familiar with the island that was both his solace and his prison. It was flat, with a few knolls here and there. A spring bubbled out from a peninsula at the northernmost tip of the island, sending the clear spring water gushing down into the creeks of his island. A single scrawny sapling sprouted near the spring. It was unable to bear any fruits or anything useful at all. The thought of cutting it down had crossed the wizard's mind. As he was about to turn back and find an axe, Xharûn realised that he did not have the heart to lay a finger on it. It was another living creature, just like him. It was going through the same ordeal as him, the same problem of meaninglessness. There was no way he could kill the poor thing, even if it would be for his benefit. Walking over to the sapling, Xharûn knelt down, running his fingers lightly along the frail stalk of the young tree.

"Don't worry", he whispered gently to the sapling. "I will make sure you survive, and that you grow into the greatest of trees, no matter how long it takes." From the look of the tree, as well as the fact that it was a Nårguu Tree, which could sometimes take millennia to grow, Xharûn knew that it would probably outlive him ten thousandfold. That was of no concern, however. For as long as he lived, so would the sapling.

Standing up, the wizard looked out at the empty sky, then at the rolling hills of his island and at the idyllic castle perched on the opposite end of the island. Something sparked inside him. If he was capable of focusing on the vast emptiness of the outside life, was he not capable of focusing on the converse, on whatever good that still burned within? The thought struck him hard.

Life wasn't meaningless.

True, there was the vast emptiness of the sky, of the clouds and whatever horrors lay below. Yet, there was also the heavenly sanctuary that was his little island. There was a wealth of knowledge locked away within his fortress of gneiss and marble, and a treasury of biology right there on the hills. There was Alvus the chestnut mare, and the baby giant that sprouted unassumingly from the bubbling mouth of the creeks. Most of all, there was the serene, holy water that coursed through the veins of the island, springing forth from its core. He, Xharûn, the great Ocean Magus, had witnessed the very heart of the island's life force, beating on without fail from inside the Great Cave. It was truly a humbling experience, witnessing such a magnificent and awe inspiring display of the genesis of the island's life. And here he was, supposedly one of the wisest of the entire Order of Wizards, having the gall to call life meaningless???

Turning around, the wizard headed back to his castle, the spring returning to his step. How could he have been so blind in the past, to focus on the emptiness rather than what lay within it? There was no need for that at all. It only served to dampen the spirits and shorten the life expectancy.

Now, with that in mind, hope returned to him. His castle suddenly seemed a lot brighter as he entered, despite the torches not having been lit in the ante-rooms. Going straight through to the garden, the old wizard noticed with great delight that his water of life had, indeed worked. The first shoots of tomato plants were growing heartily from the soft soil. Soon, he would have luscious tomatoes for his meals. Whether in the form of raw slices, or soft, baked chunks, or even as a sauce, the possibilities were endless. Sprinkling more Life Water on the plants, the wizard reentered the castle, taking the last half loaf of barley bread out of his small pouch. It didn't matter if he finished it all now, since he would have juicy tomatoes the next day and, if he was lucky, warm, golden brown potatoes. Tearing off little slices of it and savouring it, Xharûn stood at the edge of the garden, looking at the setting sun. It was the second time he witnessed twilight from so many thousands of kilometres above the ground, and he was beginning to get used to it. In fact, he found it absolutely beautiful.

Not that the sun was boring back on Cergun- it was stunning regardless of the location. Yet, the sheer novelty of seeing a sunset from the top instead of the bottom was just... indescribable. Xharûn could not help but smile a big, cheek-to-cheek smile. The Almighty definitely had a way of revealing himself to him, in the most subtle way possible, with no need for in-your-face vulgarity that they humans were so used to. The fine nuance of it was simply breathtaking, especially with no other human distractions to take his eyes off of the simple beauty of a setting sun.

Soon, the Dancers began their arcane ballet again, and the Magus retreated to the bedroom of his castle after a refreshing bath in the stream directly outside his castle's wooden Yggdrasil doors. It was these streams that made him thankful for his ability to manipulate water. Otherwise, his body would be sticky and odoriferous, contributing less than nicely to the atmosphere. Now, however, he was able to freshen up before every day and every night, something he would be eternally grateful for.

Xharûn's bedroom consisted of a mattress resting on a stone slab in the corner of the room, right next to the French Windows. A small wooden bookcase rested on a long teak desk at the other end, housing the books that the wizard was reading at the moment. A second desk was placed strategically next to the bed, allowing Xharûn to write or read in the bed, which was exactly what he did that night. The first book he was reading was Tatohanúgó the Winemaker's "Enchanted Intoxicants", a most intriguing book, and also lighthearted enough for him to read in the night, when his mind tended to be clouded with the events of the day past.

In his book, Tatohanúgó detailed the different types of wine that existed, and how certain fruits produced wines of different enchantment potentials, meaning that Wine X would have the potential to work a certain magic upon the consumer, while Wine Y would have another effect. The subject interested Xharûn greatly, considering that water and wine were very closely intertwined in Northern Cergunian lore. It was such a shame that Tatohanúgó was most likely among those who perished in the hellfire of that fateful day. Xharûn knew the man very well. He was a gregarious and hyperactive person, always full of energy despite being 78 years old. His bald and shiny head, along with his burgundy robes and long brown beard, allowed everybody to identify him even from a distance. Now, all that was gone.

Yet, Xharûn did not lament. He knew that Tatohanúgó was a kind soul, and that he was probably resting in paradise now. A single tear of joy bubbled on the old wizard's eye as he fell asleep, the book slipping out of his hand and thumping on the ground below, opened to the Pineapple page. The moonlight poured through the French Windows, casting a soothing light upon the wizard's world-weary face.

No longer did he fear the emptiness of eternity. Instead, he chose to embrace the final segment of life, of meaning.

Every day was a new day. Hope sprang eternal.

And every one would surpass the last.

---

Chapter XXVIII
Pineapple Wines

Pineapple wines are, as far as I know, of an exotic flavour. They come mostly from the central Cergunian regions, where the humid temperatures there are perfect for growing fermented versions of this sucker fruit. Throughout my travels, I have sampled numerous pineapples from various Central Cergunain regions, and have come to the conclusion that those from the little valley of Hrūngyppfur are the best tasting, as well as one of the least alcoholic, surpassed only by Teggu wines from the East.

As of now, there are three Pineapple Spells that work. The first, "Guronbadda", allows one to give the consumer the illusion that he is swimming in molasses. This has come in useful when I have had to escape from angry debtors, as well as a pimp who attempted to violate me, mistaking me for a sexually appealing Elvish woman from the South.

The second, "Herumia", gives the consumer a short burst of endurance. This is the oldest of the three spells, and has been, unfortunately, exploited by cruel warlords and feudal masters to make their slaves work more.

The third, "Merdul", is an emetic. I find this one to be the most useless of the three, being a total waste of delicious, fermented pineapple juice. Why anybody would drink a fine beverage only to induce vomiting is beyond my comprehension. As such, I don't ever use this one, though some say that makes a great remedy for when your child has swallowed rat poison, even more so than antimony goblets.

On some occasions, I enchant the wine after it has been mulled. Some people like it that way, and I have nothing against it. The mulling doesn't reduce the enchantment level.

[Seno Zhou Varada]

For the week work had to be done and since no one else could do the hardwork besides him so he had to do it. Getting up Iswald did his daily morning routine grabbing a bowl, roasted some crickets, and put the crickets in the bowl with a side potatoes and an apple with a cool drink of water... refreshing. Anyways work for the week. The second day slow progress was seen with the cricket box getting so full another one would be needed and the plants growing a bit faster today. The forest as well growing a bit more each hour. So Iswald began working on the cricket box extension and again more gardening. Day after day more gardening until the 5th and 6th when he went to work on cleaning up his small vista and on the 7th day of the week just... relaxing near the astral node to try and recover any of his magic stores he used.

[Marzarbul]

“Order! Order! Creatures of the forest!” The dull roar slowly subsided as all denizens of the grove turned their attention from each other to the wizard standing in front of them. He was unlike most wizards the birds had seen during their travels into the city. He lacked anything resembling a beard and his hair was a light chestnut brown with strands of gray. Most of his clothes were slightly misshapen as though they were made for another. His favorite article of clothing was a ratty green wool robe that had all manner of patches and holes as if worn for years on the open road. He also tended to favor an ash staff embedded with small crystals of various colors with runes carved into them. Taken together most creatures of the forest viewed the wizard with curiosity and thus they beheld his visage once again as they ceased their animal bickering. Groaning Natan rubbed his forehead with his hand and tried to massage away the headache he knew was coming. For three hours he had waited at the runestone for all the animals to arrive and for three hours all those who had arrived immediately began to argue. Whether it was about squirrels stealing all the nuts from the birds or outbursts of anger from outraged rabbits towards smug looking foxes about them eating their great, great, great grandfather. All bets seemed to be off as grievances, complaints, and general rife was presented before Natan in ever greater numbers.

The silence that now greeted him was almost a god send as he let out a small sigh of relief and straightened back up again assuming a posture he hoped would exude authority towards the creatures of the wood. Looking out amongst the assembled leadership of the wood he saw the variety of all those he had saved. The squirrel clans had sent forth four of their chiefs along with their High Chief Drugga the Great Stasher whose tail was distinctly lacking in size as if it had been bitten off by some unknown creature. While the badgers had sent forth their eldest member Rupert Stormbrow in attendance though he seemed to be barely awake for most of the time he was there. The deers had sent a small committee consisting of three deer whose names were Jumpy, Spotty, and Big Horns who for the past hour had been secretly conspiring in a small circle throwing dirty glances towards the wolves. The rabbits had sent forth their clans head Matriarch Lucretia Iron Tail whose reputation amongst the rabbits and even foxes was legendary due to her enormous size and leg strength. Many a fox had tried to capture her and many found themselves in the dust. The final leader of the prey animals was that of the birds who had come to form a single political body even though they themselves were made up of different bird types. Their newly selected leader was the Sparrow King who had recently taken up the titles of Lord of the Upper Branches and Keeper of the Tall Tree. Behind him were several of the more prominent bird types that inhabited his kingdom; the ravens, the sparrows, the thrushes, swallows, and finally a scarlet red cardinal. These 'prey' animals had congregated to the left of the runestone in tight clustered bunches as if to shield themselves in numbers against the assembled 'predator' animals who stood to the right.

These animals were far fewer in number and variation of species than the prey animals. Natan had much trouble in trying to convince these creatures of coming to his woods and this lack of numbers proved such. All told the predator species were limited to four different species. The first being the foxes who were to be represented by Den-father of the Sacred Hollow whose true name was only known to other foxes. He was slowly pacing back and forth as if testing some imaginary line as he hurled vitriol and abuses towards the rabbits. Sitting patiently some distance away was a solitary wolf who went by the name Lead Pack Wolf. Wolves naming was all about functionality and once one found their place in the pack their name reflected it. A very practical and taciturn people the wolves were and only four inhabited his wood. Looking out he half expected to see the rest of the pack on the fringes of the wood waiting for a signal from their leader before attacking. Next were the serpents who had decided on bringing two delegates. So that way they could bring back to the snakes two sides of the story and they could then try to make an informed opinion on what occurred. They also did this in order to play devils advocate and thus incite debate on various subjects. At this point they were arguing with the squirrels and birds who were advocating all manner of unpleasant subjects. Finally the last predator of the woods was a magnificent kestrel by the name of One Whose Dive Never Fails. He constantly referred to herself in the third person and she could silence the chattering of the birds with a simple glare. It was to this unruly audience that Natan presented himself.

Taking another breathe he stated in a calm tone, “Friends and foes of the wood. I have come before you today to tell you that the world you once knew below is no more. The once rolling hills and little rivers have been destroyed by the folly of those who lived there. For this I offer my condolences to the families and loved ones you left behind. However, this is a time when new things must sprout in order to prosper. As such we must bring about a new natural order to the wood. One where are limited resources are taken into account. No longer are the rabbits to breed uncontrollably. The squirrels shall be made to share equitably their hidden hordes of food. The badgers are to allow all to traverse and use their land excluding their dens of course. While the birds are to limit the amount of seeds they include in their diet. Finally the deer will not injure any animal without due cause with particular care towards the predators.” At this point the 'prey' animals went into an uproar of indignation as they changed the direction of their earlier shouting towards Natan. Holding up his hands he growled slightly towards them as they slowly quieted themselves though many were twitching in agitation. “The rules for those who hunt shall be as follows. They are to hunt only during certain times of the week. However, if any animal has been deemed to reach a certain age in its lifespan it forfeits this safety and can be hunted at anytime. Also all predators shall be limited in how many pups or children they may have.” Now not only were the 'prey' animals yelling at him but the 'predators' had now joined in. Even the damn badger was awake now hissing and growling at finding these newly laid down rules as unnatural.

In fact Natan agreed inwardly that such orders would be almost nigh impossible to impose upon such wild and stubborn creatures. This imposed order went against all that was once naturally taken for advantage on Cergun and so it was only natural that such creatures would be entirely against such strict rules. It was at this point that he walked up slowly towards the runestone and placed his hands on the top of the monument. Guttering a few strange words in a tongue long forgotten the stone obelisk lit up with an unearthly green energy as the various runes carved into it began to glow. The stones surrounding the pillar began to glow as well with each stone created a pillar of colored light. He then released the stone with unsteady hands and sat down upon the earth upon a patch of cool grass. The animals had ceased their noise at the magical display that had gone on before them and it was One Whose Dive Never Fails noticed a new engraving had been added to the stone. “She who rules the never ending blue demands to know what you have done to the great rock near the wet blue.”

Raising his now heavy head he responded in slurred speech, “What I have done mistress is put a spell upon this wood that compels all who in inhabit it to follow my orders for the next week. In order to survive you must understand that without this enchantment you and all your kin would die off in months. Whether to starvation, over population, or hunted to extinction. We are numerous yet we live in a place that is limited in size. What I do is for the betterment and survival of all. So for one week you shall see how such a system shall work.” Still slightly angered by this the animals did see some reason in his words though they could not tell if this was their own mind telling him this or the spell he had just laid upon the wood. Natan knew the spells of the mind were some of the most insidious and far reaching. Already he could see a difference in the demeanor of the creatures of the wood. No longer did they fidget and pace like wild caged creatures. They seemed to look more, domesticated.

Pulling himself up from the ground using the stone as a support he then wearily said, “In order to determine what guidelines shall be established we first need data. So I want each of you to return to your people and count the amount of your kin, their ages, and whether they are male or female. I will give you the week to do so and once you are finished send the results to my manor. I shall see you at the beginning of the next week. So ends the First Council of the Wood.” It was at this last directive that the animals appeared slightly confused as they slowly filtered back into the woods throwing unsteady glances back towards the runestone. This wizard had brought them up here and saved their lives. That had to count for something. As they brought word back to their people they began to wonder, at what cost had their lives been given. When the last animal disappeared into the underbrush the middle aged wizard gave a great sigh and began the long, slow trek back to his manor. The woods were silent for the first time that day and as he crossed the small wooden bridge his thoughts drifted on all manner of subjects. From predator to prey ratios to the average grazing area needed to feed a family of deer. He would need to research these topics further and while his selection on animal habits and studies was limited he did have a few books that could give him some insight into these matters. But he would read them another day. For now he should rest his strength and prepare for the coming days ahead. Opening the heavy oak doors his hand brushed a nearby supporting stone column. Residual magic sprung from his hand onto the pillar and a small character briefly lit up at his touch and then disappeared just as fast. Reaching his bed chamber he threw off his old robe, took off his mud stained boots, and put on a thick woolen undergarment onsie. Throwing himself under the covers his mind slowly drifted off to sleep till the next day.

[Astrolinium]

Day 1: Evening

Now, verily did Galbo go to work
at fixing up that garden with his spells
so that it might sans tending grow and bring
yet forth unto the earth those things both brown
which sleep until they're pulled from 'neath the soil
and those which find themselves be-colored green
and grow above the ground as bulbous heads
of leaves and roughage sundry here and there.
Now satisfied with that which he had laid:
enchantments strong and not of wont to break:
thus wandered he at last across the bridge
which joined two islands small and varied yet
alike in, 'struth, both grace and dignity,
but still quite diff'rent, one it seemed was bare
save garden and that edifice of stone,
the other, smaller, yet so full of hope,
for woods, yet great yet small, there made their home:
progressed he did on slats across the void,
above, the open sky, below, the mists
where once had stood the wide, green, rolling Earth
and now was naught but smoke and endless clouds.
But soon enough he came to ground once more,
his robe a-flowing, rippling, in the wind,
and feet, his shoes discarded, in the grass,
that felt soft, loamy ground with unshod toes
like dewy cool enveloping his feet:
a brown-green carpet flowing forth, it seemed,
a great king's hall, with trees as soaring beams
which held the verdant roof way up on high
where little birds did sleep in twiggy nests
and squirrels did chatter up and down the bark:
distressed, they seemed, the ones that he could hear,
but was he in a place to give them blame?
Their world had shrunk some sizes over night,
and they had not the power of a soul
to know what 'twas which had occurred beneath
the island on this past preceding night.
So forth he went into that sylvan hall,
his feet still sinking down into the floor,
and noted with his eyes all them who lived
beneath that verdant roof way up on high.

Birds there were, and rabbits too, and
mouse and rat and squirrel and shrew.
And little moles beneath the ground,
and partridges which make their nests
not high in trees like other birds
for fear of falling, precious things,
and bashing out their tiny brains.
And quail there were, and little ants,
and bees and badgers, chipmunks, snakes:
the deer mouse and the dormouse too,
the robin, bluejay, and cuckoo.
A fox he saw, or so he thought,
flaming tale with eyes he caught
fleeing swift into the bushes;
above which, thought he saw an owl,
sleeping 'til the sun went down
and would take wing to hunt those things
which scurry now upon the ground.
A fence, he thought, woulds must be made
'ere rabbits hopping through the glade
go sailing off the island's edge
and from this verdant foliage
into the void, into the depths
to fall forever 'til their deaths.
A hedgehog and a ladybug
he saw conversing merrily,
with starlings, tits, a tortoise too,
while warbler sat up above
did sing its song, and down below,
a weasel slinking through the loam
in hot pursuit of some new food.
And last of all, he saw the wren,
a-sitting in its nest alone.
His heart went out to-wards the bird,
alone forever in its home.

And then at last across the bridge he went,
the sun behind the trees now at his back,
and back into his stony home he came,
alone.
He had not thought to bring a friend
besides the goat which now was sat outside.
And hardly could he bring fair Suzie Lou
to sup with him at table every night.
Ascended he up stony spiral stairs
into the highest tower of his home,
where kept he scope for looking at the stars
repurposed now, he thought, for greater cause:
to look and see if with it he could find
if other wizards had been same of mind
as he when he had made his floating home:
to save themselves from coming certain doom.
And so with joyous glee he climbed those steps
and to the tallest tower bouncing came
and put at last his spyglass to his eye
as up above the wheeling stars came out
and flame-red sky at last turned all to black
as in the west the sun bid him 'good-night'
and settled itself down to this night's nap.
The wizard's stomach growled like mountain-fire
that boiling erupts forth from the peak
of jutting cordilleras when the gods
find the mortals them enough enraged.
But cared he not for hunger as this was,
for looking westward spied he something new:
a vague black shape a-floating on the wind,
not that diff'rent, seemed it, from his own.
And so downstairs he dashed at breakneck speed,
to study, parchment, quill, and ink indeed,
and wrote out he a message to be sent
across the void by magic, on the wind,
to him or her who to the west might lay,
though feared he, 'twould take far more than a day.
Indeed, he thought, as hungry as he was,
and given magic used on garden crops,
not one but six days would this take to reach
that floating island far off to the west:
so reach it would at ending of the week.

And so through this endeavor satisfied,
he placed the parchment in an envelope
and melted wax upon it was his seal:
a sparkling purple tree with leafy boughs.
And put it, he, into a jar of glass,
and waved his hands above it 'til it rose
into the air just like his island had,
and so he and it rushed themselves upstairs.
He said a prayer, the wizard, to his gods,
though knew he not if they yet still survived,
and sent the message west into the void.
He watched it float on wind until it left
his sight and was not even just a speck
but truly, little thing, could not be seen.
At last, he then allowed himself downstairs
and into bed, to dream of twinkling stars.

The Remainder of the Week

As morning of the second day came swift,
the red sun rising, wond'rous to behold,
the wizard Galbo's snores were floating up
into the rafters of his stony home.
But rise, did he, with new spring in his step,
and broke his fast at table still alone
but hopeful that this soon would yet be changed:
and so he tore his bread with newfound zeal,
and dipped it merrily into his milk.

Upon that morn he went outside to check
on goat and crop, and went across the bridge
to walk a while in the cool, green wood
and marvel at the beasts and plants alike.
He'd take the time the next day hence, he thought,
to build a sturdy fence of wooden posts
to keep his woodland friends from running off.
And then he found some mushrooms 'neath a leaf,
which brought he home and tried indeed to eat,
and queer sensations felt he from that food,
and thus the second day came to a close.

When day three came, he went out with the dawn,
hammer, wood, and spellbook 'neath his arm,
and by the time the sun set on that day,
a sturdy fence he'd built around the node
which hosted for him that great sylvan hall,
in order to protect who called it home.

On day four, fed he Suzie-Lou and then
he milked her and he thought of making cheese.
So he went he to his vast array of books,
and found one called 'The Art of Making Cheese'.
And so from one to next book did he go,
and spent the fourth day walking through his tomes.
Perhaps, he thought, his little library
was now unique in all the universe.
His thoughts went out to westward little jar,
a message in a bottle going out.

Then fifth day came, and 'twas his day of prayer.
He spent it in his chapel, praying there
and meditating on the fiery end
of world -- was from his bond he now released?
Had he not only lost his world that day
but also had his gods, too, gone away?
Or were they still there, somewhere up above,
and he alone their loyal, pious flock?

And sun did set and rise and deem it good.
As came day six, he went into the wood
and tried to talk and meet the little beasts
which ran about beneath his unshod feet
and flew above, like stars up in the sky.
But he had not the power, though he tried.
He could not chatter in the way of squirrels,
or twitter, warble, toot toot as a bird,
and squeaking like a mouse he failed right out,
nor could he coo like quail or dove or grouse.
And so he sighed and went back 'cross the bridge,
and hoped to gods his jar would reach someone.

That night, he did not sleep, but rather sat
awake all night, a-looking up at stars.
He lay there, nude, his body in the grass,
and contemplated life after the end.
He fell to sleep there short before the dawn,
and so on seventh day did Galbo rest.

A Letter To That Which Lays West

My dearest Compatriot,

My name is Galbo Sintirelon, and I am a survivor. Assuming this message has reached the place I enchanted it to go to, I live on a floating island some four leagues, or so I judge, to the east of your own: you should, I think, be able to just make it out on a clear day, or perhaps rather better through a spyglass of some construction. I assume that you are a wizard, witch, sorcerer, sorceress, warlock, mage, maga, strix, or other form of high-level magic user, as you appear to have also known of the Coming After and so floated an island as the gods commanded. I also assume, as the Gods commanded me to float an island and as they presumably have given you the same command -- whether you know it or not -- that you are therefore a good and pure wizard, witch, sorcerer, sorceress, warlock, mage, maga, strix, or other form of high-level magic user. To that end, I await your response eagerly -- we may very well be the last two, unless you had the foresight and charisma to save others, and it seems best to me that we work in tandem to make some meaning of life and perhaps see if others have survived.

Yours Eternally in the name of the Gods,
Galbo Sintirelon, Wizard of the Tree

[Constaniana]

Commander Victoria Chaerchul Falrest
Day One, Week One

Victoria stood over her bed already dressed for the day, crisply folding the sheets and neatly arranging them in the pre-dawn light. It might have been considered meaningless putting the effort into such tidiness, but even with the destruction of Cergun and her retirement from the navy beforehand the blueblood kept her proper bed-making habits. Besides, it set a good example for Jack, the wee scoundrel. Commander Falrest stepped out into the corridor to check up on the boy, quietly opening the door to his bedroom and peering in. He was still asleep, thankfully. Victoria loved her son, but there was no denying he could be quite the handful when he was conscious. But he looked so sweet and innocent laying there, not to mention how his mess of brown hair made him look like his father. She headed downstairs and began cooking breakfast, looking out the window as she stoked the fire she intended to warm some smoked bacon with. The vast emptiness was still incredibly disconcerting to her. She had grown accustomed to some degree of isolation, but even at the hidden military base she had been stationed at for years there was at least the existence of the sea to remind one that there was still more out there. Now there remained only silent clouds.

Hasty footsteps thumping down in descent pulled Victoria from her melancholy thoughts, as Jack Falrest ran into the kitchen still wearing his night clothes. The mother smiled down at her son, before giving him a light push away from the fire.

"Good morning, my little truffle. Set the table while I cook, would you? And make sure you get dressed before we sit down to eat," said Victoria, her voice an odd blend of maternal warmth, military firmness and aristocratic crispness.

"Yes, Muma," Jack groaned, setting out the plates and saucers before briefly returning to his bedroom to dress in a blue tunic. The two ate in relative quiet, with the majority of noise coming from the crunch of bacon or the sipping of tea. As the boy came close to finishing his meal he spoke again, "Muma, what are we going to do now with the rest of the world gone? I'm liable to get bored awfully quick," Jack complained.

"Quite an interesting question, dearest son. Whatever shall you do, hm? If only there was something to occupy your time...ooh, I know! Dusting! Washing clothes! Pulling weeds! All sorts of housework!" Victoria replied, grinning mischievously as the younger Falrest groaned. Soon they headed outside and began tending to both the small vegetable garden and large field, tending to the crops to ensure they established themselves in this new world. Victoria used her magic abilities to augment the fertility of the potatoes, raspberries, wheat and other crops around her property.

[The Starlight]

Sarena Havlebor
Day 1, Week One

"It is the end! Listen to me! The end is coming! The animals have already fled, the birds seek high ground, and we must respond to these signs! I have seen terrible things, in my dreams, of our planet, crumbling, burning, dying, but it doesn't have to be! Let us put forth our considerable powers and save this world, before it is too late! shouted a figure ontop of a stone, beseeching the masses.
"She is mad, that young witch," chuckled one sneering onlooker. The other replied, "Aye, brother, let us leave this gloomy, inexperienced girl to the wind, to shout of doom there. Wine's on me!" Laughing, the pair leaned on each other and left. It seemed contagious, she lost her audience, and soon she was there, alone, speaking to the wind. But the wind will not heed the voice of mankind either.

5 Months later

"A figure on the ground was being kicked by a crowd. "The earth still stands, doomsayer! We still live! You were wrong!" Another kick, and then another, and it turns into a football match, with her being the ball. Crying out in grief, pain and anger, she vanishes, using her magic for an invisibility spell.

Sarena woke up, shaking, crying, curled up in her bed. It was just a dream. No, she corrected herself, it was a nightmare, and a memory. Clothing herself and eating a small portion of food, she put on her wizard's robe and stood at the door at her home. A floating island, doomed never to stop sailing, towards that sunset that is oh so far. And she, Sarena Havlebor, the Last Survivor, cursed to float among the clouds for years upon years. None would remember her name, no, none but herself.

Shaking herself from her melancholy thoughts, she crossed the small wooden bridge to her garden. They were the only things that kept her sane, talking, speaking to the ones who had saved her. She placed a finger in the ground and concentrated, focusing her magical abilities on making her plants grow, to help her survive. Crossing the wooden bridge again, she looked at it. It was too flimsy and fragile, and if she fell while on it, it would be her death, and if the bridge fell on its own, she would not be able to cross the divide without magic. Storing this into the back of her mind, she entered her house once again, and walked up to her library, where she had stored the books she had salvaged before their planet was destroyed. She brushed a hand over the cover a musty, old tome and began to read. But she could not keep at it for long, and she placed her hands in her head, and wept.

She was the last human, and on her face was despair and utter hopeless. Upon her face, was the look of one who has given up a long time ago, the look of one who is waiting to die. Just her, alone, alone, alone. Was this her destiny, her legacy? Or perhaps it was it was fated beneath the veiled stars, one cold night, that her doom should be this.

[Alleniana]

It was hard work, but necessary. No decent house had ever been designed with two young adults' refuse and bodily eliminations to be dumped at the base of its wall, even if it was somewhat mixed through. No animals would come to dig it up, indeed, and even the insects were fewer, but the smell was still immense, and he could not possibly spend his time using spells to waft the stench out into the outside. He could not.

After speaking with his wife about it for some time, they finally resolved to move the entire vegetable patch to expanded facilities on their other island, currently fallow and playing host to grasses, flowers, weeds and even a few plants growing higher, though not quite shrubbery. He had chosen a spot that seemed devoid of any plants but grass, to make sure he wasn't uprooting the last of some species or anything like that, and begun to dig it up, a patch all upturned and the grasses taken from it scattered around the islands in the vague hope they might green up the land a bit. He would move the stones last, to prevent grasses from simply growing back into the patch, though he would need to weed it frequently in the time after first replanting them there, as well as keep their health up by use of magic. To be frank, it wasn't as if there was much else to do in terms of work these days.

For now, though, he simply dug at the ground with a hoe, breaking earth, aerating the soil enough that new plants could take root. It, being virgin soil that he had pulled from the ground did not need too much work, which was nice. Even better, it had happened to be a decent loam, which pretty much anything would grow in. All the same, though, digging in the sun was a tiring labour, with many rests interspersed. And then, during one of them, he noticed a bottle pushing past his shoulder, bobbing merrily in the air and slowly making its way further in front of him.

Almost instinctively, he seized the glassy object, and found himself holding what had suddenly appeared to be a mundane, clear, empty glass bottle. Empty, but for a note, ink scribblings on it, inside.

Looking around, and not seeing anything at first glance that could have been the thing's origin, he felt it a bit. Didn't seem much like a bomb, or a genie's bottle...

He opened it, and there the note was. He dropped the hoe to the ground to pull the paper out as gently as possible, and out it came. So he read it.

Hello? Is anyone there? My name is Ada. I survived Cergun's fall. If you receive this, please at least let me know that I'm not alone. There are instructions on how to cast a levitation spell on this bottle on the back of the message you're reading, in case you can use magic. My island is the one that is floating to the east of yours. If you receive this message, please respond. I would appreciate knowing that someone else survived.

And then on the other side, writings about how to cast a levitation spell.

Holy shit. Somebody else had survived.

Leaving a fair patch of soil unturned and the hoe lying on top of it, he ran inside, flinging the heavy wooden door open with no small noise and sprinting up the stairs to his study. His wife called out from one of the bedrooms, where she was reading, asking what it was.

"A letter! A letter just flew in from somewhere! Someone else is alive!"

She dropped the book on the bed, where it fell to the ground, but by the time it did, she had left the room already. She found her husband sitting at the desk, reading over the little note again and again.

"See? There was this bottle... this bottle here, and it just floated in! I was digging the new patch, and it just brushed past my shoulder and kept floating! This... Ada says she lives on an island, just like ours, to the east!"

Though he had intended to write a reply, it now occurred to both of the couple to rush outside, looking towards the east. Could they make anything out? No, no... yes! There, a speck of a shadow, sitting on the horizon. There was someone around! Someone had survived! Another island!

They both rushed back upstairs to draft the reply together. She was rather unskilled at writing, but she could read to a degree, and he grabbed a quill and an inkpot, and began writing rather quickly on a piece of old parchment while conversing rapidly with his wife. It took only a few minutes, scrambling for how to word things and what to say and general frenetic excitement before they wee finished. The letter was soon written, and then, with haste rarely seen, he put it back in the bottle along with the original note and sent it off, drifting on the sky and in the winds to the east.

To Ada,
I, Iolio Iestiabana Vivariono Rialeili Bariona, and my wife, Malilia Amoborei Bariona, have too survived Cergun's fall. We did not think there was anyone else who had survived, but now we know of you; to our east, and to your west. We are only two people, but we have a house and some facilities. I, too, am also capable of magic, and we live on a floating island, we presume similar to yours. Do you need any help? Also, are you capable of producing a crystal ball, to make communication between us more easy? I will include a crystalline fragment with our next letter, that we can use to link. Please reply.

He began to think, standing there; how would he do the fragment? Perhaps just a conjured droplet of jade, split in half, to provide linked crystal ball nuclei? Something more precious? Would this Ada know how to do so? Surely, surely. Would there be others? Yes, would there be others? It was not long before he and his wife ran circles around the island, looking off into the distance to see if some other shadow or cloud might yield the location of another island. Alas, they did not see much at that time, it slowly getting darker, but they resolved to try again tomorrow, the first day of the next week, and perhaps then, they might discover fellow survivors.

[Traders Union]

Day 1..i think
Jaqen stopped to catch his breath. Turns out creating and using temporal fissures constantly drains ones energy. Who knew? Not Jaqen. "Come on man, it's just one or two more portals. Then you can start the actual research of creating..oh crap..more portals. Why am I doing this again?" Jaqen thought to himself as he finally arrived at his personal..forest I guess. Although a cluster of trees would be more accurate.
After siting down on a log to regain his energy, Jaqen stood up.

He set up two rows of poles, various containers, a transmutation table, and to others what appear like a very large empty container. In reality, Jaqen's most promising Shade resided in that box. His oldest and most stable Shade, Jaqen hopes it will be the ideal test subject. Slowly opening the jar, Jaqen watched as a small human-esque mass of etheral energy appeared in front of him. "Hello again Slim. Ready for some more tests? After this is over you can go back to the Either (different plane for magical beings that Jaqen studies). Maybe even get some food. Wait, that wouldn't work. Maybe a drink? That's not any better is it? Umm maybe a-" before Jaqen could finish, Slim interrupted him. "Enough Jaqen. Yes I'll help. You know I always do," he said, swirling around Jaqen ( his version of a hug). "Right, right. Testing," Jaqen said, moving the poles around a bit.

"Alright Slim, I want you to try and go as far as you can between the poles in one jump. I'll record how far you go. If you start to get unstable back into the jar. Understood?" Jaqen asked Slim, while opening small rifts to move some scrolls around. "Of course I do Jaqen. Yeash this is the hundredth time at least we've done this," Slim said, moving over to the marked starting spot. For the next few hours, he worked on his range while Jaqen practiced some new spells he read about. He already is a near master of manipulating matter and transmutation, time to study some more branches of magic.
Charms had always interested Jaqen from his younger years. Before he didn't have the time to focus on that field. Now he did. After getting the basics of a illusion charm down, Jaqen decided to mess with Slim a bit. When Slim wasn't watching, half of the poles were hit with an illusion charm, making them appear to have vanished to Slim. Needless to say, Slim was not happy when this happened. Suspecting Jaqen, he decided to get his revenge by sending some of Jaqen's things to the Either.

Once his work was done, Jaqen summarized his findings in his favorite notebook. Slim showed no signs of becoming unstable, even after hours of moving through the Either. Perhaps now is the time to unleash all of the shades.
1.) Messing with beings magically is fun
2.) Slim is a very stable Shade
3.) No correlation appears to exist between time spent in the Either and becoming unstable
4.) Slim could go pretty far in one jump. Possibly enough to get to that tower he saw earlier with some help from Jaqen
5.) Charms might be more useful then I originally thought
Closing the notebook, Slim was returned to the jar. As Jaqen the forest to go back to his tower for some more research and spell-testing and sleep, he planted a few modified seeds ( corn and potato for now) into the ground. Might as well become self-sufficient early Jaqen thought as he left the ground and stepped into the first of many portals.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Week One Passes

Ada

The garden next to her humble abode blooms happily beneath the sun and the gentle fall of rain that a storm had borne through the night to the humble abode of the Earth Witch. At dawn, her day of rest concluded happily, Ada noted a small pool of clear water at the bottom of her large cistern. Her pantry was beginning to fill instead of empty with the first few fast-growing crops having been harvested under the touch of her enchantment, though her room upon the face of her island is starting to feel a touch crowded. Her body still veritably bursts with magical energy, invigorated by the comforting soft blue glow of the floating light that resides above her abode, though the flame of power within her is somewhat lessened by the siphoning she has been doing recently.

Natan

In the dominion of Natan all was, perchance, as he had anticipated it being. The survey was at last completed, and the results were to his liking; though the numbers of prey animals were lower than he expected, and the enchantment appeared to be holding, it was conceivable that his plan might succeed. Some effects of the removal from the continent were still being felt; families of creatures that had lost many denizens in the apocalypse were faring poorly, and the predators were still eating far too much meat to be sustainable. The wolves alone were having to hunt many small creatures just to sustain their minute pack, and the other woodland residents had blamed them for accounting for nearly a quarter of the rabbit population being consumed. Despite the breeding proclivities of their prey, the predators, even the snakes, simply needed more to eat. Without the restriction of his spell, the island would be depopulated of prey rapidly, and then who knew what desperate ravenous beasts would do? Natan's personal supplies of food were ample, but predominantly vegetable based, and his reserves of water would need to be augmented soon.

Lyra

The solitude of the Stargazer was absolute, untouched, untrammeled. For a week she wandered somewhat aimlessly about the island, devouring every scrap of information presented to the senses. She learned the dance of the stars as she had not before, and every whorl of the earth beneath her feet, the feel of the blades of grass and the swirling chaotic melody of the burbling spring. The island where it welled up was deep and vast, but even it had had a source ere the coming of the darkness, and in time it too would subside. Upon this and other melancholy thoughts the Nightwatcher's mind returned again and again, barely remembering to eat. Only as the eight day dawned bright and clear, her isle touched by a faint drizzle of rain, did Lyra see something interesting. To the east, barely within sight, a figure danced in the rising sun's light. It was remote and beyond the ken of the eye to resolve, but now and again it seemed to twirl upwards in the buffeting breeze of the southern storm, and silvery light flashed from its train.

Xharun

A grim rumbling greeted the dawn of day upon Xharun's skybound abode. It was the grinding of earth, the sighing of stone, and within it were the unhearable tones of destruction laced like a poison touching the headiest vintage. The Ocean Magus was awakened by the groaning of the island, and even as he leapt up to look out upon the sunlit pastures prepared by some divine force, they abandoned him. Plain and hillock, bier and windswept moor, they crumbled; at the edges of his awareness Xkarun could feel his enchantment and spell tearing. A folly of even the wise, haste and overreaching ambition were unwinding his poetic magick; where invisible lines of levitation creaked under the strain of the earth, they fell back one by one, loosing their cargo into the void and winding in on themselves to embrace that little which remained firmly entrenched in the spell-net. In the time it took a man to blink, cracks appeared upon the idyllic landscape, and then with a rush land tumbled to meet sky. By the time Xharun had gathered his breath, the only traces of his once-great island were his castle, preserved by dint of his personal power being centered about his person, and a small hillock where a sundered outlet of the stream coursed down into a still pool. Perhaps some agent had watched over it, or a magic old than that of man lay upon it.

A second apocalypse, but this unlooked for. He lived, and his garden teemed with growing life and ripe crop. But the earth had abandoned him. Not just that earth, however, was strange upon his daily rising. A bottle, blown of glass made by the hands of man, bore words coming out of the sunrise. Words penned by man. Thoughts, sprung from the mind of another soul like his own. How curious, and yet happy.

Galbo

It did ever rain again. In fact, to call the gale that assailed the small island rain would be too disingenuous towards it; it battered, it squalled, it stormed. But its violence at the end of the night left the suspended heap of dirt much the same as it always had been. The crops were happy of his spell and the rain, and 'neath budding leaves the wizard found the first fruits of his labor ere dawn; his fence too had weathered the storm. 'Twas crude and the work of one not skilled at building, but the woodland creatures seemed disinclined to approach it; indeed, their black eyes seemed many and some of the low bushes were bare of leaf, eaten by hungry mouths of tiny beasts. His stores of useful wood had been some depleted, but the mage's mind was at rest from the speech with his gods. It seemed, from his study of the books within his storied halls, that he needed some form of invisible spirit to add to his milk to create the more storeagable cheese he so desired; Galbo read of the use of a ruminant's stomach, perhaps a circumstance that could be reproduced by his intimate knowledge of the goatish kindred.

Odilo

His pantry was simply stuffed with parsnips. Many febrile casting throughout the week had become backlogged in some cosmic buffer in the sky, and thus Odilo had the distinctive pleasure of awakening to the new week to find a veritable heap of his favorite vegetable manifested upon the table, spiling over itself. After a frenzied ravenous feast, he had sat back happily to enjoy the rewards of good wizardry. Starvation was not a threat to the old man, at any rate.

Jaqen

Testing was inconclusive on the new shades, despite several nights and days spent pouring over the answers. Functional enough, from a manifestation standpoint, but really quite useless when it came to doing anything. Even their physical appearance seemed to sputter out after a few hours, and getting them to interact with something solid, well, those trials were best neglected. Jaqen had also had a devilish time trying to make any new portals. He couldn't quite pin it down, but a late-night examination of their theoretical underpinnings seemed to indicate that they relied on the fundamental shape of the world... and, well, there wasn't a world to be shaped by. At least not anymore. To modify his equations to this new cosmology would take a lot of midnight oil, and in the meantime, his stocks of water were beginning to get somewhat low.

Iswald

Iswald's body was, truth be told, a wonderment. How the gods had made man able to survive such a curious diet was beyond the ken of philosophers, but they would have had a wealth of new data upon observing the stalwart Iswald begin cultivating crickets as a food source. A small pen he had made for them, ensorcelled to prevent his tiny captives from escaping, and with his singing over the plants they had yielded him much new organic matter to be fed into the -apparently- expeditious machine that was his form. Time would tell how this diet fared him, but for now the water and crickets were sustenance (according to some definitions). He was feeling somewhat drained, truth be told; trying to do the manual labor required climbing into the bower of forest giants, a task he had never anticipated in all his years. Once or twice he had fallen, requiring a hastily chanted cantrip to avoid serious injury. Even the crops were a lot of work to magic, each different one requiring a separate spell to deal with their own ailments. But his larder was full, and growing fuller, though the trees and animals seemed to be in some sort of war for dominance upon his floating island's counterpart.

Iolio

A tiny cough had taken the wife of the wizard as the day dawned new, perhaps an effect of the damp that had visited their island. Their food was still enough to live upon, though they were wise to ration it sparingly; it would be some time ere their new garden upon the upturned earth gave much in the way of produce, but expanding it further would be simple child's play. And the ground of the land they had brought aloft was fertile, febrile positively. Their souls were glad of the knowledge that another had survived the death of Cergun by fire and shadow, and the new week promised great things to the sojourners of the air.

Victoria

The former naval officer had found concentrating her efforts most assuredly for the best, and even the labor of her goodly son had been naught for not. At the end of the week she was drained, and spent, feeling like a rag that had had the water rung out of it. Her constant labor had not been for naught though; the grounds of her humble garden were so bestrewn with spells that to those with the learning or Gift it felt almost like walking through water nearby, magically speaking. One could, if patient, observe the little sprouts clawing for altitude under the light of the sun. Her larder had been throughly stocked by her singing and her son's harvesting of the grown crops, enough to feed them for many weeks, nearly double the supply of food she had brought aloft with them in the first place. The gentle rain squall of the last night had been just one more happy addition to her agricultural harmony, though it highlighted her island's unfortunate lack of a permanent water supply. Jack seemed tired, but happy, despite a bit of weakness in his hands.

Sarena

How did her garden grow? Well, and her own understanding of the cosmos was blooming from the knowledge within her saved manuscripts. Even those she had read before could be delved into for a deeper understanding, and though she was alone, that did not mean she was despondent.

[Erhialam]

The solitude of the Stargazer was absolute, untouched, untrammeled. For a week she wandered somewhat aimlessly about the island, devouring every scrap of information presented to the senses. She learned the dance of the stars as she had not before, and every whorl of the earth beneath her feet, the feel of the blades of grass and the swirling chaotic melody of the burbling spring. The island where it welled up was deep and vast, but even it had had a source ere the coming of the darkness, and in time it too would subside. Upon this and other melancholy thoughts the Nightwatcher's mind returned again and again, barely remembering to eat. Only as the eight day dawned bright and clear, her isle touched by a faint drizzle of rain, did Lyra see something interesting. To the east, barely within sight, a figure danced in the rising sun's light. It was remote and beyond the ken of the eye to resolve, but now and again it seemed to twirl upwards in the buffeting breeze of the southern storm, and silvery light flashed from its train.

Lyra frowned, tapped her chin thoughtfully. Her tiny telescope, lenses in the eternal refrain of whirrr-click...whirrr-click...whirrr-click... wasn't strong enough, optically or magically, to see the thing as it truly was, to lay the veil of distance bare andsee it in the purest sense of the word. Something similar but stronger would, perhaps, serve the purpose better.

She climbed her wheeled ladder contraption, a whimsical version of the kind seen in the grandest libraries, and dragged a larger, more elaborate telescope onto the second platform at the top, just barely keeping her balance. Then, flicking a fingertip over the activation crystal, a flower-bud in the blossom garden inlays in the mahogany, she made the second platform lower itself, and clambered again down to the first.

Stargazer was proud of each of her inventions, but this telescope was one of her prodigal children. It had four lenses, and they weren't just for seeing in the traditional sense. She could see magical energy through two of them, and they could adjust for the kind that they saw with a turn of the petal-inlaid knob. One allowed her to watch the dances of the heavens at a speed the human mind could understand, watch the every shard of shimmering cosmos in a meteor shower hurtling in slow motion. And the largest lens was simply for looking through, but its gaze made all sharp. The arcing metal slide-rule let her measure and calculate without taking her eyes from the things she studied.

There was another feature that made it all the more impressive. Lyra had slipped the longest roll of paper she could find inside the body of the telescope and made certain there was a little window in the metal, just large enough for a quill. Written in rows on the parchment, through the little window, were descriptions in her meticulous handwriting of every sort of magic Lyra and her telescope had identified. If it picked up the same kind twice, the parchment would roll until the description of that magic showed through the window. It was like a massive book with all the hundreds of kinds of cosmic magic logged within, and it was at her fingertips. It had taken years to perfect the idea, and years more to perfect it, and years more to amass the knowledge it stored. It was truly a beautiful thing. Hefting it to the table beside her work-desk, she trained the lenses at the silvery phenomenon.

The lens's view was unhindered by the rain. Stargazer gave a sharp gasp. It was an animal of some sort, a living organism, no caprice of magic and the air!

It was even more fascinating through the slowing-lens. A magic life-form...Lyra had only had the pleasure of two documented encounters before this one, and neither were as strange and wonderful as the bat. Having studied all that was to be seen by looking up, the lady knew of the flights of birds and butterflies. That was the principle upon which she lived; it was best to know all that one could about all that one saw. This...bat-thing, as she could best describe it, looked disproportionally light in regards to the motions of its wings, which she could see quite closely, thanks to that magically-blessed lens. She jotted notes furiously in her notebook between glances, frenetically thumbing the hefty, leather-bound volume for her sketches of the wings of birds and bats.

crrrrrrrrr...

The paper was rolling furiously, trying to find the match to that strange magic that the 'bat' seemed to emanate.

And when it finally stopped, Lyra's azure eyes widened.

The parchment beyond the window was blank.

[Bunkeranlage]

Day III

The island was crumbling.

The old wizard was jolted from his blissful sleep just as the sun's rays penetrated the sides of his island. The sides of the island were rumbling ominously, sizeable chunks of it cracking and falling into the burning abyss below. Gasping in horror, Xharûn seized his staff, running down into the fields to see what was going on. His island was disintegrating at the sides, and he, as far as he could tell, was to follow if he didn't act soon.

Heading back into his castle, Xharûn dug through his enormous archives, pulling out Celibedai Gudoul-Ishi's book and thumping it hard on the table, which was vibrating from the tremors that ran through the island. Apparently, the island he had attempted to raise into the air was too large, and even the most powerful spells in the book were insufficient to hold it any longer than a couple of days. As he glanced outside in his frenzy, he saw the island crumbling further, chunks of coagulated soil breaking off and tumbling below.

There was no time to lose. The wizard dashed outside with his staff and the book, flipping furiously to the page that he needed. The horse charged towards him in fear, and he barely managed to step aside and avoid a head on collision. Unfortunately, the book slipped out of his hands, landing near the edge of the island. "No!" he cried, throwing himself over and seizing the book just as the soil beneath it granulated and plummeted into the probably ongoing apocalypse below. This time, it was either life or oblivion. Pulling the red leather covers of the book open, the wizard slammed it onto the ground just a little further up, chanting the ancient language hastily.

Gúþsârdolnû meliurið Þomåakuað Æturna ariôus hêu Vallikaiðmuun Cærgunia Enternu veggra demegnlews!

As the words left his mouth, Xharûn could feel the energy draining from his body, his hands trembling from the strain and the veins on his neck throbbing. As he uttered the final syllable, the strength left him, and he collapsed backwards onto his hind, gasping heavily. At the same time, the tremors in the island began to weaken, before stopping entirely with one final groan. The streams trickling behind from the still-intact spring source, Xharûn lay flat on the ground, his breathing and panting becoming less laboured from the relief and adrenaline rush from saving himself and his horse. Eventually, after some time, he was able to stand up again, albeit relying very heavily on his staff. Taking a look around, Xharûn let off a weary sigh. Only a little more than a third of his island remained intact, and that was supposedly reaching the maximum, according to Gudoul-Ishi's book.

Still, though, it's definitely better than falling to certain death or remaining below."

It was then that Xharûn realised how hungry he was. It was already rather late in the morning, and he still hadn't had breakfast. Hobbling back to his garden, the wizard noticed, with much delight, that the tomatoes were fully grown, as were the potatoes. Plucking one of each, he entered the kitchen, cooking himself a meal. As the smell of a delicious breakfast wafted through the air, the wizard noted with a grim satisfaction that he had survived another apocalypse. Perhaps he really wasn't meant to die? Only time would tell.

Pouring what remained of the pomegranate wine into a goblet, the wizard went into the balcony, flumping down into his wooden chair and enjoying a slow, leisurely breakfast, contented with whatever was left of the island. Sure, it was a lot smaller than before, but it was still more than enough for him to get by on. After all, the only other option was the hellfire below, and it definitely seemed much less comfortable than the cooling, scenic balcony in which he sat, with some scattered patches of grass that survived the crumbling, as well as the gentle, lilting streams that radiated from their source.

Day IV - Day VII

The wizard's subsequent days were spent rather leisurely. Surviving on his meagre diet of potatoes and tomatoes, Xharûn would either take walks around the severely diminished island, or spend his time reading inside the castle. Often, it was the latter. With 183 books, there weren't really any dull moments for the wizard. Often, he was able to practise some of his magic when he read.

Days passed quickly, the sun making full cycles around his island over and over again. Xharûn sometimes sat down right at the edge, pondering the existence of that which existed. Philosophy was, to him, a refuge from the hard and terrible force of despair.

It was, interestingly, during one of his philosophical moments when the bottle arrived. It was a green, frosty bottle, rather like a champagne bottle, but smaller. Grabbing the bottle in one hand and shaking out the contents, Xharûn was extremely surprised to see a message from one Galbo Sintirelon, inquiring on the status of humanity and if there were any survivors. Of course, this was everything he had hoped for; that there was someone else out there who had survived Armageddon.

Rushing back into the castle, the Ocean Magus hastily penned a letter, sealing it back into the bottle and using a levitation spell to send it back in the direction from whence it came.

To the other survivor known as Galbo Sintirelon.

Galbo,

It is a pleasure knowing that someone else has survived the terrible hellfire that has so ruthlessly erased Cergun from existence.

Allow me to introduce myself; I am Xharûn, also known as the Ocean Magus. I spent the majority of my days sailing the high seas, though my home is in the North of Cergun. I have amassed a treasury of books and tomes in my castle.

Perhaps we could work out a way to make face-to-face contact? I believe we would be able to work out a plan easier like that.

Regards,

Xharûn

[Zarkenis Ultima]

Ada's Island - Day 8 - After Dawn

After having awakened that morning after her restful day of leisure, Ada felt ready to continue her work, and so, she tended to her plants just like she had in previous days, treating her garden with love and care as she checked that the enchantment was working adequately and harvested the garen's yield.

That had happened a couple of hours earlier.

Presently, the Earth Witch was relaxing within her artificial stone pond and munching on a carrott, her skin cleansed by the pristine waters caught within. Truly, having some rainfall at last had been a godsend. To taste pure rain water after subsisting solely on the liquid of her juicy watermelon harvest was a refreshing change from the constant sweetness, and she was truly glad to be able to finally take a bath after six days of hard work. She had done a fair bit of exercise and other demanding physical activity, after all, such as digging and working on the garden, and with that came along much sweat and dirt.

It was at that moment, while she was basking in the fresh water and the warm sunlight with her eyes closed, that the floating bottle reached her island.

Of course, she didn't notice it at first. Her eyes were closed, after all, and she wasn't being particularly mindful of her surroundings at the moment, and so, the bottle drifted on, undetected, unchained, free. Yet, as it passed above Ada's pond, the Earth Witch could not avoid noticing, even through her closed eyelids, that something above her was interrupting the flow of sunlight. Opening her eyes, she looked up, and her surprise was great as she saw it, the floating bottle, the very same she had sent to that speck of land in the west, returning to her bearing not one, but two pieces of parchment within.

Moving swiftly, she stood up from her place within the pond and seized the bottle. Her own nudity hardly bothered her, as there was no one there that might have warranted some display of modesty, and so, she stood there with the bottle in her hands, shivering slightly because of the cold she felt as the water on her skin evaporated and the morning breeze whistled through the air. Figuring that she might as well, she left the bottle near the pond and went to get dressed first, making sure to keep her hands dry as well, remembering the fragile nature of the paper in which the messages in the bottle were written. After all that, she returned to the pond, now clad in her wizardly robes once again and without a half-eaten carrot in her hand, and retrieved both messages from within the bottle, reading them. One was the note she'd written herself, which she put aside in order to read the other one, which was clearly not her own.

After she was done reading the message, the Earth Witch was overjoyed. There was one, no, two other people still alive after all! Iolio, most likely another wizard judging by the message, and his wife, Malilia. The confirmation that she was not alone in all of this caused a truly wonderful sensation to well up inside of her heart, and, crumpling the message inside her hand, she raised her fists into the air and let out a joyful cry.

However, she felt that it was best to send back the message as soon as possible, and so, she quickly went to find her writing implements once more, crafting another message to put within the bottle that acted as her personal carrier pigeon.

To Iolio
Thank you for responding to my message. I would not say I require any help, as my own island is relatively well furnished, though perhaps we could exchange supplies with each other in the future if necessary. I am certainly able of crafting a crystal ball, and will begin preparations immediately as I await your next letter so that we may begin communicating directly as soon as possible. I would also like to ask if you have seen any other islands in the sky. I myself will search the skies and see if I can see any others, and inform you of any such findings. In the mean time, I wish you good luck. Give my regards to your lovely wife.

P.S. Keep my messages and I will keep yours for reference. Otherwise the bottle will fill up quite quickly.

Ada

After the message was written, she quickly put it in the bottle, along with her previous one, while placing aside the note she had received from Iolio, using a book that happened to be lying around as a paperweight. After that, she walked back to the western edge of her island and cast the bottle out into the skies, sending it westward, towards Iolio's island, smiling as she watched it drift away, now aware that there was someone else in that direction. Hope, not despair, had triumphed, and so, content, the Earth Witch wandered back to her castle, searching for ingredients and utensils to utilize in the crafting of a crystal ball, making sure to have everything in position and ready so that its creation would be a simpler matter once she acquired the promised crystal fragment.

The rest of the day, while not busy with her routine, Ada used her handheld spyglass to look for any other floating bastions, hoping to find more survivors.

[Constaniana]

Victoria Falrest
Day 8, Week 2

Today was the first time in years that Victoria had not risen from her bed before sunrise. All the work of the past week had finally caught up to her, and even a good night's sleep wasn't enough rest for her. Jack had already been in and out of her room wondering why breakfast wasn't ready at all, to which she grumpily told her son to eat some fruit and amuse himself on his own. She could hear some sploshing through her window.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that Jack is playing in the mud. Ugh, I'm going to have to spend even more time on washing now...hm, getting water might be more difficult than I thought. I don't fancy drinking out of mud puddles for the rest of my life.

At last the ex-research witch crawled out of bed. She put little effort in dressing herself, merely throwing a crumpled cloak on over her nightdress as she walked through the halls of her home down to the larder. She began peering into the barrels, searching for the one with the least amount of food in it. After a few moments she settled on a smallish barrel of potatoes, which she tipped out onto the floor nonchalantly. The things grew in dirt and had that layer of skin around them anyway, so she wasn't as concerned with their cleanliness. Victoria had built a wide door outside in the larder for easily putting the crops inside, so it was a simple matter to roll the barrel outside and prop it right side up. It wasn't the most permanent solution, but it would be a decent temporary measure to secure precious water until she had a well or pond or something established. The thought of rigging up an enchantment to catch clouds directly occurred to her, but Commander Falrest wanted a solution less vulnerable to magic accidents.

With the water barrel in place Victoria began wandering her land looking for her son. It didn't take long, for she soon found the lad scoffing raspberries right off the bush.

"That's enough of that," Victoria said sternly, pulling out a trowel she had picked up beforehand, "Mummy's tired. Find a good empty patch of land here and start digging a hole in it. Don't go too deep, mind you. And make sure it's about a yard wide."

"Yes Muma," Jack replied, letting out a sullen sigh as he began to trudge away.

"Wait, Jack. We've both been working hard the past week. Just go dig for about twenty minutes and then we'll play Behelnaught and eat some toffee," Victoria offered, her urge to indulge her boy winning out against concerns of getting a well as soon as they could. She went inside to fetch some of the sweets she had hidden in the larder, before finding the Behelnaught set. It was Esenglia's most popular board game; a naval strategy game akin to chess, but on a clockwork board with hundreds of possible random events over the course of the game determined by which buttons on the side of the board were pushed before the start. It could be rather difficult for beginners, and the ticking alone distracted many a novice, but dedicated fans of it declared it the greatest entertainment mankind had ever devised.

[Traders Union]

Jaqen's island- day or night 8, he can't tell which
Groaning, Jaqen woke up. Again the stupid pet got itself spliced. "Maybe if I let him stay like that for awhile he'll stop doing this," he thought as he woke up and got dressed. As soon as his mind fully awoke he wished he hadn't. Remembering the failures on shade research Jaqen nearly broke something. "Calm down man, breaking something won't help this. Strengthening my temporal powers will help," he thought, descending from his room to his library.

Picking up a large, slightly damaged spiral bound book from his personal stash. One of his personal favorites called "The Either and You: How to loose yourself in time and not," given to him by a old friend. He learned the basics of temporal magic. It depends mostly on the relative stability of the area you're traveling from and the area you're traveling to. Higher levels of instability increases the risk of being stuck literately between time zones. No one in recorded history had escaped from a time rift. Theoretically it should be impossible.
Reading further on in the book, Jaqen reached a point he hadn't tried yet. According to the book if a person had made a temporal visit to a destination a lasting bridge could be created between the destination and point of entrance. Only a few people had created these "bridges" in history. Surprisingly to Jaqen they had held. Thinking back to the tower Jaqen saw a few days ago, his mind began to formulate a plan to get Jaqen over to the landmass the tower is on.
Becoming thirsty, Jaqen got up and went into his kitchen. What he saw in the kitchen was not very good. He had less water left than he thought. "Curses, I thought I gathered more than that before the blasted ground vanished underneath me. Guess transmuting will sustain me until I figure out a way to get some water. Maybe whoever lives in that tower might be able to help. If he/she/it isn't a prick they will,"Jaqen thought as he descended the stairs out of the tower to collect the seeds he accelerated a few days ago.

After collecting the seeds Jaqen was about to leave when he realized something. "Maybe a self-sustaining pool is possible? The only hard-part is self-sustaining part. Perhaps a constant transmutation spell fixed on the surface could work? Perhaps, perhaps," he thought as he transported himself back to the tower. Deciding to take a break from work to relax for a bit and think.

The hot water worked wonders for Jaqen. While basking in its warmth, Jaqen's mind wandered back to his book and the theory of temporal magic. "Now that I think about it, no mention was made of a distance limit on transporting myself. All I need is a clear view of where I'm going. What if my neighbor is hostile? Guess I'll have to actually learn some offensive and defensive spells. Hahahaha never thought me, the cunning old wizard, might have to learn how to harm someone. What a burden and waste of time, necessary, but an annoying waste of valuable time I could use on prepping for my little vacation," he thought, as he fell asleep in the tub.

Waking up a few hours later, Jaqen was greeted by the sight of half of his pet. "Bloody dog, this is the last time I fix this," he yelled while quickly fixing his pet. Walking back towards his library, Jaqen settled down with his book. After reading it for what seemed like a few hours to Jaqen he found what appeared to be the steps necessary to transport himself over to his neighbor
1.) Obtain a clear view of target location
2.) Decide on what direction to arrive facing on arrival
3.) Decide on a spot to depart from
4.) Establish a temporal anchor, allowing himself to freely travel back if something goes wrong
5.) Make the jump
After creating this list, Jaqen began his preparations.