#lodas

[crimsondestroyer]

Did a little pixel art of LODAS.

[crimsondestroyer]

My Land, the Land of Dragons and Stone

Wrote a desc of my land BTW

Your land is the Land of Dragons and Stone. The landscape is barren, merely piles upon piles of boulders. Your consorts are the Dragons; tiny blue winged beasts with a penchant for trickery that look oddly similar to Blue Fire Dragons from Dragonvale. Most towns are rather hard to traverse; as a flying species, the consorts have no need to refine the jumbled stone ground, so the buildings are just walls and ceilings and paths are basically nonexistent. Your Denizen is the Denizen Anansi, a large spider-like being. It can grow smaller in order to move around the land in between the large stones, and can extend its legs in various directions. It moves constantly, randomly punching holes through the ground to create sinkholes, causing rocks to fall to the center of the planet where it hoards them in its lair. The Denizen itself doesn't actually stay in its lair due to it being full of rocks, and instead roams the land.The consorts don’t seem to notice the sinkholes, since they spend most of their time in the air. To them, nothing of value is being lost. However, this will inevitably leave no land for the consorts to build their homes on. The only way to catch the Denizen is with a great number of people. You need to convince the consorts that they must rise up and retrieve what has been stolen from them. Due to their lax nature and tricky disposition, this will be quite a task, and every consort across the land must join, or it won't work.. Once they have finally been convinced, they will fan out and cover the land, leaving nowhere for the Denizen to run to. Finally cornered, you confront the Denizen head-on. It delivers its final speech, and the player slays it. With this, the walls of the Denizen's lair crumble apart, and the missing chunks of the planet are returned.

[space-ace-place]

So Homestuck.

I am the Heir of Void.

My land is the Land of Darkness and Shifts.

I am a Derse Dreamer.

[sadgaywerewolf]

Knight of Blood in the land of Death and Sand poem, please?~

Do you fear this timid peace

now that it is shed upon the ground?

What sacrifice, what mistake

what regret burdens you now,

that threatens to bury you

a dune, alone 

a tomb of a god that becomes a temple.

And your friends now do weep? Or do they rejoice?

Your loss is their gain and your gain their gain and your surrender their victory...

another pawn in a game of Gods,

but a knight moves in strange ways, and you will not falter so easily

so fight on

and let not the life blood drain so swift.

[princekarkat]

haha i bet the name Land of Death and Sound seems like something a fourteen year old emo band fan made up

but nope, it's pink as fuck

[the-magical-crawdad]

Maestro: Conduct.

Okay so this was written on google docs. It was a fun experience, and I'll probably be doing it again. It was super neat! This will also go up on AO3 eventually with awesome colour.

You have to take a rest. It’s been a long, long four hours, and you are tired and sore. You’ve never had to swing a hammer so much in your life, and boy is it showing. You take a seat on a huge gnarled root that juts up out of the ground, wrapped around one of the huge white stone tuning forks that dominate the very upper reaches of the canopy on each and every little plateau. You pull your glovetop out of your sylladex and slip it on. There’s a brief flash of static as the screen shows up. You tap the display with the gloved hand, and your pesterchum opens. You start a multi-chum conversation, and breath a sigh of relief when colours start flashing across the semitransparent ‘screen’. Everyone made it in. The tension you’ve been carrying for the last four hours releases from between your shoulder blades and you suck in a huge lungful of air. It has never tasted sweeter. You spend half an hour catching your breath and making plans. You don’t think about what you left behind, not because of the apocalypse that was falling but because everything you could have wanted came with you. Terra contacts you nearly in tears and you spend much of your short break calming him down. He never was one for high-strung emotions but you guess the end of the world takes everyone in different ways. You’re ready to get back to exploring this new cave system by the time plans are formalised. Pluto’s quiet assurance that everything is going to work out fine instills a measure of confidence in you. You’re still not entirely over the fact that Pluto is alive again, still have to keep reminding yourself it’s real. Four hours is definitely not enough time to come to grips with resurrection. You shake these thoughts from your head and heft the long sledgehammer with ease. Black eyes stare at you from the overhangs and the tree branches and the cave, but you’re ready for them. You hope you never get used to the way bleeding feels in this game. It’s wrong and horrible, less the slow pulse of heat and pain and more static at the edge of the wound and blood that dissipates into the air like smoke. You suppose one of the benefits of a health vial is that otherwise lethal attacks don’t quite kill. Sure, the head wound hurts like a fucker and the smoky blood that clouds your vision stings, but at least your head isn’t just one long smear on the rocky floor of the forest. You find time in the melee to eat one of those disgusting orange soft lollies Uri had told you to alchemize. They taste like one hundred percent reconstituted ass but they clear the ringing from your head and the leaden feeling in your arms, so you suppose you shouldn’t complain. After that, the rest of the fight is easy.  You reap the grist whirlwind afterwards, and Mars informs you that you’ve finally got enough of the small grey grist to make that mace you had wanted. You take your time considering if the journey back to your transplanted apartment is worth the extra weapon, but eventually discard the idea. What you’ve been fighting has been easy enough, truth be told, and you’d rather not waste time. You chat idly with him as you explore the mouth of the cave, and you almost miss the small, wind-worn carvings along a rather smooth stretch of cave, and simply break off chatting. You fumble with your sylladex in the dark until you manage to haul out the Phoslamp. The thin, shimmering wings flicker into life as you toss it over your head, and then bright golden light floods the area. You take a good look at the carvings, some of which you have to trace to even get an idea of what they may have been. You have no goddamn clue. They look familiar, all long lines and curves and whorls, but it’s all unintelligible to you. -- magicalCrawdad [MC] began pestering calamityBecalmed [CB] at 9:58 -- [9:58] MC: Okay so I’m standing here right. [9:58] MC: Just minding my own business y’know the whole adventurer thing. [9:58] MC: Bust in and steal everything that’s not nailed down, you know how it is. [9:59] MC: But some asshole has written all the instructions to my neat little dungeon adventure. [9:59] MC: In fucking lines and pictures. [9:59] MC: Help? [9:59] CB: You mean the glyphs? [10:00] CB: They’re directions, yeah. Do you know how to read them yet? [10:00] MC: Seeing as I’m not traipsing down Grist Avenue or riding the Sweet Treasure Express, no. [10:00] CB: Oh. [10:01] CB: Yes this is the right conversation. [10:01] CB: Sorry I guess I’m not really used to how... [10:01] CB: Well how everything works I guess. [10:02] CB: Anyway you’ll need a guide or a translator. [10:02] CB: Lucky for you there’s one back in the village. [10:03] CB: But you’re not going to be able to talk to him yet. [10:03] MC: Why? [10:03] CB: You’ve got the Vittles on you anyway so you’ll be fine. [10:04] MC: Man that is the worst name. Who even comes up wi- The last thing you see as your vision blurs and distorts is one word, one word in that periwinkle blue you’d almost forgotten once. [10:04] CB: Sorry. You snap back into the world of the waking some time later. Maybe you dreamt. You can’t remember. You never do, but that’s okay. You’re much more interested in your immediate surroundings anyway. You stands, slowly, reach out to touch cool stone. Almost cold, really. Smooth, too. Worked. Fine lines run horizontally as far as you can reach from your spot, uniform and regular. Not tool marks, though. You frown, and cycle your sylladex until the Phoslamp shows u- Where’s the Phoslamp. Actually where is everything else, too. Your ‘dex is empty. Your strife specibus is bare. You’re stuck in a dark hole with no clue how to get out and you are defenseless. You fight off the wave of panic, bite down of the acid taste of fear. Your hand is still encased in the Glovetop. One of the seemingly useless blue gems blinks on and off rapidly. You take a look around, a purely ingrained habit - you can’t see shit, of course. The comforting orange and white blaze of your pesterchum flickers into life and sheds pale light to the walls. You’re in a corridor, and the roof is easily another five or six feet out of reach. It’s huge. You flick the display down to the small, hand-sized option, and the light is reduced. So is the chance something nasty will find you, you think. You sit, and open your last conversation. [10:04] CB: Sorry. [11:34] MC: What the fuck was that. [11:34] MC: No seriously it’s a goddamn mystery. [11:35] MC: Pluto WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED [11:36] CB: Sorry, Venus. [11:36] CB: I should have been more specific I think. [11:37] CB: But I couldn’t have been so we’re kind of stuck. [11:37] CB: Anyway it’s good to see you’re back. [11:37] CB: Saturn was having a fit. [11:38] MC: When is he not? [11:38] CB: I suppose. [11:39] CB: Anyway, you’re in the right spot now. -- calamityBecalmed [CB] sent ‘So youre an adventurer.txt’ to magicalCrawdad [MC] -- [11:39] CB: This is what you need to do. You read the map. You re-read Pluto’s instructions. You turn the map up the other way for another try. [11:44] MC: I can’t make heads or tails of this. [11:44] CB: You’re just not trying hard enough. [11:45] CB: Think of it like sheet music. And suddenly it makes sense. You fold the map carefully and slide it into the pocket of your Ace of Duds (the name could use some work, though the suit itself is actually quite nice), then enlarge your Glovetop display for light. You take a closer look at the lines on the wall, run your fingers over them slowly and carefully. You feel indentations, bumps, raised lines and there, right at the end, a treble clef. So maybe the dungeon designers got the memo that you’re really into music. Okay, you can deal with that. The map leads you through many, many rooms, each exactly the same as the last bar the notes on the walls, and you begin relying less on your sight and more on your hearing. The walls make different sounds as you pass near them, and your footsteps echo differently depending on your location. You reach sunlight, and it burns your eyes for a moment until you adjust. You’re in a huge chamber. Engraved pillars extend to a roof you can’t see, in various states of ruin and decay. You can see a glittering gold light, and by its glow you can make out a raised dias and what looks like a small stone altar. [11:50] MC: I think I found the room. [11:50] CB: You can see the golden light? [11:50] MC: Yeah, but I’m not sure how far out it is. This place is massive. [11:51] MC: I’ll see what I can do. [11:51] MC: Are you sure this is the right one. [11:51] CB: Yes. We’re going to need that for later. [11:52] MC: I guess that’s my cue then. You need all the light you can get, but your Glovetop doesn’t get any bigger and the brightness setting is at max. Still the light barely gets further than five feet. You take your time, despite the apparent firmness of the huge stone tiles. The closer you get to the altar the more you can make out the carvings on the nine thin spires that crown the raised platform. Snakes, all long and flowing and curled back against themselves. Each snake holds a great orb in its mouth, each of which begins to glow with the same golden light as the altar. You crest the final step, dazed by the strengthening glow around you. Like a mist it lifts, blows away into the darkness by some unfelt wind. The altar is plain, but then again, it could never have competed with the object laying atop it even if it was made of a solid diamond and inlaid with every other precious stone in the universe. [11:55] MC: This isn’t a key. [11:55] MC: It’s a goddamn flanged mace. [11:55] CB: You’ll figure something out I’m sure. [11:56] CB: Oh, and hey. [11:56] CB: Run. You don’t have to be told twice. You take off like a shot back the way you come in, new weapon held firmly in your right hand. It’s perfect. Golden and pure, lacking any embellishment. It is plain. Beautifully weighted. Perfectly designed to fit your hand. You’d be worried about that last part if it didn’t feel so very right. You’d worry about that last part if you didn’t have some hellbeast snapping at your heels. [11:57] MC:  FUCK FUCK GODDAMNIT. [11:57] CB: Take your next left turn. So you do. You don’t even question, just leap sideways and hit the ground running again. Your lungs burn. You’re sick and tired of running. Always with the running. [11:59] CB: Third right, okay? [11:59] MC: LITTLE BUSY RIGHT NOW. [11:59] MC: SHIT IT JUST GOES THROUGH THE WALLS. You hear the crunch of rock and then the shrill scream of whatever it is that’s chasing you. You swear you can feel hot breath on your back. You push yourself faster, and fly through the wide doorway. You only realize that this room is a dead end when the huge beast that’s been trying to mince you breaks open the doorway you’re just come through. [11:42] MC: Pluto. [11:42] MC: … fuck. [11:42] CB: It’s okay, Venus. The beast (harpy, it has to be a harpy, but why when there’s no room to fly here) tears into you with long, cruel talons. You feel the wounds as lines of ice, incredible cold that shocks you to your core. You stumble, backwards, try to get away. It simply advances on you, jagged beak open as if ready to take your head from your shoulders right now. The incredible golden mace in your hands is worthless. You can’t swing it. Can’t move anything. Your legs hit something hard, stone, and you fall backwards on it. You try to breath as you stare up into the darkness. Suddenly the beast doesn’t seem so much of an issue. You’re just very tired. So very tired and cold. The huge stone slab feels like the altar you just robbed. It’s even ringed by nine spires, though these lack the snake motif of the last ones. You don’t know why that’s interesting. It just is. You think the ceiling explodes into brilliant golden light, but then your breath is stolen by the Harpy’s beak. Your life goes with it. [11:43] CB: It really is okay. ===> Maestro: Step Forward Gold light funnels down from the sky, down from the purple and peach haze in streams and wisps and tiny motes. The wild winds of the planet begin whipping into a frenzy, coaxing hard and sharp sounds from the huge tuning forks that grow from each and every plateau on the Land of Desert and Symphony. Tiny bats begin gathering on the largest of these plateaus, suffused with golden light and chattering excitedly in the chill dusk air. The Plateau beings to rumble and groan, and then a large clearing collapses inwards. Out rises a spire of stone, brilliantly white and topped with obsidian. Nine white spires follow, and the golden mist and the golden bats swarm around them. The bleeding body does not stir, even as the wind whistles around it and the desert begins rising into a crescendo of sound so huge it couldn’t be heard. The Symbol of Strife, a stylized set of scales with the balancing point a sword, rises into the air, brilliant copper and glowing. As the sun crests the horizon the desert symphony reaches the climax and then goes dead silent. ===> Maestro: Raise Baton He awakes on the black and white checkerboard of Skaia. The great Quest Bed that is the exact twin of the one on LODAS slowly loses the golden glow, the black stone cools rapidly. He can feel the push and pull of conflict on the horizon. It is large and almost overwhelming, but he is a god now. He turns his attention away from the battles that surround him, turns it upon himself. He is reborn, yes. His aches have gone, his mind has cleared. He doesn’t mind the outfit, either. The black cloak that falls across his shoulders trails down into an impressive swallow-tail, and the cowl is deep and comfortable in a way he may have once found strange. It is natural for him, now. He flies away from the black and white battlefield, and it is hard, because that Strife is so huge it’s almost a physical entity. It wants him to stay, but he cannot. He has to conduct the grandest symphony, and his orchestra needs him. He can feel it, can hear its call across the space between the Planets. As an afterthought, he summons the legacy of the forgotten tomb he found his rebirth in. The golden mace feels right in his hands, and he can feel the power inside it stir at his touch. He is ready. Victory will be his Opus. ⇒ Maestro: Conduct.

[the-magical-crawdad]

Visit Original Link

Jupiter Lighthouse, Golden Sun: The Lost Age, Motoi Sakaruba (this man is amazing).

Also the music that plays around the Land of Desert and Symphonies, i've decided.