Carlisle Longinmouth (
tongueamok) wrote in
hadriel_logs2018-11-25 01:08 pm
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Entry tags:
Dome Sweet Dome
Who: Carlisle Longinmouth (
tongueamok), OPEN
What: It's a log for the folks who expressed interest in Carlisle's latest gardening project! In short, he made a stupid dome of magic to protect the only two gardens he cares about, and is feeling very good about himself. Make him regret his hubris.
Where: Park
When: November 21st - early December
Warnings: Nothing yet! Heads up for anyone who has met him, but hasn't seen him in the past month: he's a lot more colorful now.
As the days without the gods add up and the city grows colder without power, there may be less and less people braving the outdoors. However, any of those who happen to wander in the vicinity of the park -- or what remains of it, as most of the trees have been removed -- might notice something odd: there are two, translucent domes covering a portion of it, their walls illuminated with a magical energy. Upon closer inspection, one can see the vague shapes of archways and leaves behind these glowing, blue barriers; they're connected to the ground via a stone curb, so any visitors might want to watch their step.
But should someone trip and fall into either dome, they'll find the walls won't keep them out -- they'll slip right through with only a tingling sensation, much like the shock of static, to accompany their passage, the magic wall remaining whole behind them. Within one dome is the memorial park, its various markers and tributes to those who have disappeared from Hadriel protected from the elements beyond the barrier; within the other is a garden, its rows of shrubs, vines, and greenery kept at a comfortable temperature within the magical ward.
And on most days, near the cottage at the center of said garden, one may find the man who conjured these domes, Carlisle Longinmouth. Sometimes, he's pruning away at the twitching, ivy-like vines of his coilers, tossing the trimmings to his pet, Rabbit. At other times, he's knelt near the barrier himself, inspecting the integrity of his magical walls. On more than one occasion, he may be over near a patch of dirt walled off with stones, within it the stalks of still-growing barley. Wherever he may be, there is one constant: he's generally not thrilled to find he has company.
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What: It's a log for the folks who expressed interest in Carlisle's latest gardening project! In short, he made a stupid dome of magic to protect the only two gardens he cares about, and is feeling very good about himself. Make him regret his hubris.
Where: Park
When: November 21st - early December
Warnings: Nothing yet! Heads up for anyone who has met him, but hasn't seen him in the past month: he's a lot more colorful now.
As the days without the gods add up and the city grows colder without power, there may be less and less people braving the outdoors. However, any of those who happen to wander in the vicinity of the park -- or what remains of it, as most of the trees have been removed -- might notice something odd: there are two, translucent domes covering a portion of it, their walls illuminated with a magical energy. Upon closer inspection, one can see the vague shapes of archways and leaves behind these glowing, blue barriers; they're connected to the ground via a stone curb, so any visitors might want to watch their step.
But should someone trip and fall into either dome, they'll find the walls won't keep them out -- they'll slip right through with only a tingling sensation, much like the shock of static, to accompany their passage, the magic wall remaining whole behind them. Within one dome is the memorial park, its various markers and tributes to those who have disappeared from Hadriel protected from the elements beyond the barrier; within the other is a garden, its rows of shrubs, vines, and greenery kept at a comfortable temperature within the magical ward.
And on most days, near the cottage at the center of said garden, one may find the man who conjured these domes, Carlisle Longinmouth. Sometimes, he's pruning away at the twitching, ivy-like vines of his coilers, tossing the trimmings to his pet, Rabbit. At other times, he's knelt near the barrier himself, inspecting the integrity of his magical walls. On more than one occasion, he may be over near a patch of dirt walled off with stones, within it the stalks of still-growing barley. Wherever he may be, there is one constant: he's generally not thrilled to find he has company.
no subject
"Fine," he bites back, still trying to hold his temper. Glacius is apparently fond of this elf and his sister, after all, and he can manage some manners if only for that reason. How long he will manage them is the question. "Then those with the orchard are welcome to plead their case to me if they so desire. Until then, perhaps you can transmute some not plants into plants for them."
no subject
"Fine, gosh. I can maybe do that. Loooootta magic though." He raises an eyebrow at Carlisle and thinks about taking his leave, but then absolutely doesn't. "Which you know, I learned how to do. At wizard school. Which is for wizards. Because I am one. A wizard."