iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 30/09/2026

Oh boy this one got away from me, thank you to everyone who has stuck with me this month, and I hope this is sufficient reward for doing so! Special thanks again to the wonderful @regalbones.bsky.social who suggested I join in this year, and for the prompt list that these all came from.

Graphic reading:
“REGAL BONES SWORDTEMBER 2026
1: Fanart
2: Gamble
3: Primal
4: Flock
5: Decay
6: Noir
7: Wings
8: Oblivion
9: Fractal
10: Fae
11: Hunger
12: Inversion
13: Flesh
14: Werewolf
15: Lost
16: Leviathan
17: Bramble
18: Tempest
19: Atom
20: Junk
21: Cocoon
22: Crystalline
23: Fool
24: Sticky
25: Generation
26: Moon
27: Grave
28: Mystery
29 + 30: Deadly + Sins
Prompts brought to you by my amazing patrons at patreon.com/regal_bones !"

000

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 30/09/2026

Swordtember Day 30! 29 + 30 - Deadly Sins Must we stand trial for the sins of those who stood before us? #rbswordtember

283

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 28/09/2026

Swordtember Day 28! 28 - Mystery Ness raises some concerns. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry NS-349-403

I am concerned about Artemis again.

He's been much recovered as of late, even of the melancholy that had gripped him for a while. He's been keeping a better work schedule, and I've even been able to convince him to come out for the odd evening for recreational time. It's been nice, I've had opportunities for socialisation again, which I thought I might have left behind me when I agreed to my new role as Artemis's guard. I've honestly come to care for him as I might a friend, rather than a colleague, and the professional relationship has been such that he's made me feel an equal rather than a subordinate as I felt when I first joined the Order.

However, in the last few days, he's been staying up working 'til all hours, muttering to himself. I can tell he's stressed because he's been chewing at his fingernails again, and the dark circles under his eyes tell me what sleep he's been getting has not been sufficient. Since I've known him, he's been single-minded in his ambitions, he's never to my knowledge sought companionship or taken time to consider what else he might do if his goals are unattainable. I know he's desperate to figure out ways of regaining the magic our predecessors had access to, but I don't think he's prepared for the possibility that day may never come. I think he and the rest of the Order have put a great deal of faith in finding answers in me, their Voidkissed miracle child, but I do worry I am nowhere near as learned as some of the researchers here, and I doubt without me making breakthroughs of my own there's a limit to the amount of knowledge they'll be able to glean from me second hand.

I did ask Artemis once, about the fact he shared a voyage with my mother, and so could be similarly affected in that were he to sire a child, that child might possess the same abilities as me. I thought that an odd avenue to go unexplored, given his singular focus on the answers such a child might provide. A child of the prodigious Kaumera line might be much more suited than I to take up the mantle, after all. But Artemis brushed it off, saying that he couldn't in good conscience raise a child as a test subject, nor seek out the company of someone for their sole quality as a mother to such a child; only feeling comfortable asking for my cooperation as a test subject because he'd only known me as an adult who was making her own choices. And so I fear the responsibility will lie with me, after all.

One thing that has been notably unusual is Artemis's new habit of taking in the air after nightfall, going up to the observation post. I get the sense he wants his space while he's up there, and so I have generally left him to it. However, I have made a point of checking in on him from time to time, stopping on the stairs up where I can see him but not disturb him. Each time I've done so, he's been facing southward, face illuminated in that weird greenish purple the black sun gives out, just staring back at it. He'll regularly stop to look at it for a while whenever we're down in the anteheliocal hemisphere on expeditions, and I figured it was a passing curiosity, but I worry it is becoming more of a fixation for him.

He's never really discussed his theories about the black sun with me, other than his fears that the sun's light is the reason we still struggle so much to venture in to the swamps at the pole, something about the proximity and the intensity of the light, especially as the poles see no nightfall during the lunar cycle. I figure he considers the light not to be a risk at this distance, but maybe I should gently discourage the habit at some point soon. But still, I do wonder what he's so captivated by.

Ness Shepherd
Sworn Covenant Guardian of the August Order
Chosen Companion to Artemis Kaumera
53rd Light of the Season of Snow, Cycle 349.

000

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 27/09/2026

Swordtember Day 27! 27 - Grave Ness accompanies Artemis on a personal errand. Winter discovers the image carousel feature after getting carried away on word count. #rbswordtember

021

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 26/09/2026

Swordtember Day 26! 26 - Moon The August Order celebrates a holiday. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry 338-560.

I have been dragged away from my work at the insistence of Chalia and Ness in order to participate in some “downtime". I have been attempting to return to my previous level of efficiency with regard to archival and research, but neither of them have let me be since my bathysphere accident. I have assured them that I am fine, but they maintain that I have been “overworking" myself and that I need to rest.

With that in mind, we have taken a rare journey north, and are taking in the festivities for the Melan eclipse and the ringing in of the new lunar cycle in Latramere, a town built on one of the islands in the western coral shallows. I must admit, it is a refreshing change of pace compared to my normal festive traditions of continuing my work unabated, maybe catching a glance of the eclipse on my way to my quarters. I find it perplexing why the eclipses are celebrated with such enthusiasm across the entire population. I myself have bore witness to two thousand, seven hundred and three of them, with another poised to darken the heliocal hemisphere tonight as Mela reaches its apoapsis.

Latramere would not have been my first choice of location for three scientists to celebrate this occasion, as it makes its reputation mainly on the repeat custom of those that tend to steer clear of the more official shipping channels that operate through Sailskeep. However, at Ness's suggestion, we have chosen the Kraken's Beak- a particularly busy tavern- as our venue for the evening. I confess I feel a mite out of place, not being used to keeping the company of such a boisterous crowd. Ness clearly has no such concerns, having done the majority of her preliminary research expeditions in this area. She seems to be close friends with the two hostesses here, who I understand to be the daughters of the proprietor here. I have never seen her make quite so much eye contact with someone before.

As the light of the yellow sun gets dimmer, it makes me realise I have not watched a Melan eclipse from anywhere besides the Black Peaks since I was a young man. The waters of the Sea of Harmony, already nigh unnaturally calm during the rest of the lunar cycle, become as still as a mill-pond; the surface of the ocean seeming to take on the same strange stasis as the moon that governs their season. As the sky to the north turns dark and still, the sky to the south begins to brighten in comparison, and those odd greens and violets of the black sun start to curl over the tips of the Black Peaks like tendrils. It's a beautiful sight, and one that takes me back to my childhood. I can remember watching the first one our people ever saw with my parents, before any of us even knew what lay beyond the southern horizon.

Before I get too entrenched in sentimentality, Ness and Chalia are motioning for me to stop writing. I think I would perhaps be well served to listen to them, and try and enjoy the festivities for once. Maybe I'll even buy the next round.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
Last Light of the Season of Growth, Cycle 338.

1142

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 25/09/2026

Swordtember Day 25! 25 - Generation Artemis returns to work. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry 338-419.

This will be my first attempt at taking back archival duties from Ness after she has stewarded the role during my illness. It has been almost two hundred days since last I wrote an entry, and I simply cannot let that date pass, lest I admit failure on the whole undertaking. Ness assures me she's been thorough in my absence, and I look forward to catching up on current events at the Order.

I have very little memory of the incident. I recall sending the staff at the laboratory away, with the intention to ready myself for a solo journey in the bathysphere, and then to call back Ness and a small team of the most knowledgeable researchers available at the station. I wanted to petition them for their opinion on the best route forward, as I felt my own judgement was compromised after my loss of nerve regarding the sphere. Ness tells me that I never called her or anyone else back, and instead got into the bathysphere alone, somehow fastened the hatch from the inside, and deployed it without any supervision.

I must not have been in my right mind. I cannot conjure up a single conceivable explanation as to why I would have made such an irrational decision. If that is indeed what transpired, I owe Ness and the two concords who offered her aid during the incident a tremendous debt of gratitude, as well as an apology. This is to say nothing of Chalia, without whose care I don't believe I would have survived.

She tells me Ness carried my unconscious body all the way from Espial Rock back to the Black Peaks. Even in favourable conditions, that would take almost an entire day's light. I know she has dedicated herself to my protection as part of her pursuit of deeper connection to her magics, but I was not prepared for the lengths she would go to to ensure my safety; forgoing rest and food to drag me across a sea, spending the entire night watching over me as the hydraulic lift carried us back up the cliffs, and still having enough energy to then carry me halfway up a mountain to get back to the facility here. Chalia then spent all of thirty nights nursing me back to health before I even regained consciousness, and she tells me only then did Ness take her leave to catch up on rest.

What Chalia has told me in her absence, though, is that whatever charms Ness attempted to rouse me with on the way up the cliffs may have been the thing that saved my life. She seems to not remember the specific magics she used, likely as a result of the sleep deprivation she was also subjecting herself to at the same time, but Chalia did not recognise any of the traces they'd left on my body. It seems Ness can cast spells purely on instinct, rather than relying on our still limited array of defined magics. It also seems, or so Chalia thinks, that those magics bear the signs of being in the third degree. If that is so, Ness may be the most powerful magic user currently alive on the planet, and she has become so without the need for study, or divine intervention, or an external energy source of any kind. It is as if she has a natural affinity with it.

173

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 24/09/2026

Swordtember Day 24! 24 - Sticky Ness deals with an accident. (Prompt list in comments) #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry NS-338-230

Looks like the records will be my responsibility for the foreseeable future.

I just left Artemis with Chalia. I don't know what happened. He'd dismissed everybody yesterday morning just before we were due to begin preparations for the first manned bathysphere descent. I assumed he'd had a fit of nerves, and I planned on giving him some space before returning later in the day to perhaps raise his spirits over a drink so that he might feel better about trying again come the morrow. When I came back through for the evening, I expected to find him as I so often do, brooding at his desk with his head in his hand. Instead, he was nowhere to be found, and the bathysphere had been deployed.

I didn't come to the obvious conclusion immediately, purely because I couldn't imagine a reality in which he'd make such a genuinely irresponsible decision. I thought he'd just sent it down for another test descent and stepped away from the console. He's been increasingly prone to taking little risks here and there lately, nothing serious that I wouldn't have been able to talk him out of- but this? He's made it abundantly clear how much that thing spooks him, he seems afraid to be in the same room as it some days, I couldn't possibly conceive of what possessed him to seal himself in there and lower himself into the depths, not only alone in there, but without a soul up top to keep an eye on the systems.

As soon as I realised I couldn't locate him in the lab, I knew there was only one place he could be. I tried hailing him through the bipartite array he'd installed, and he seemed to respond. The array worked, but it seems like the sheer amount of water between the synchronous parts of the charm does appear to result in some fidelity loss after all. I heard his voice, and tried asking him to confirm his depth and pressure readings- the consoles had him at about three thousand feet and descending at the maximum speed.

It was only after I tried to engage him further in communication that I realised he wasn't responding to me. It was as if there were someone else down there with him, but as I called everyone to station, no name was left unaccounted for. I couldn't make out many words at all, it seemed like only some of it was in the common tongue? I'm not aware of Artemis speaking any language beside that of the southern Raonian mountain folk, which he seems to reserve for when he wishes to converse with Chalia in private, or the odd expletive when his research isn't going well. I speak precious little of that tongue myself, that ended with my grandfather- who insisted my mother learn the common tongue the Progress Initiative established before they left Raonia behind, so that she might better integrate with the other children on the learning deck on the Ark. In spite of that, I understand enough to know Artemis was not speaking a language I recognised at all.

Upon listening further I realised the second voice was Artemis too, though it sounded strained, as if he were affecting an accent of some kind. He'd sound like he was mumbling something in this strange tongue, almost slurring his words, but then it seemed his diction would clear up and his voice would become harsh and guttural. This new voice was in the same tongue, but sometimes it felt like I could pick out occasional snippets of common language. I think I heard the words “seal", “despair", and “flood". Then, very clearly, much much more clearly- as if the voice were from right next to my ear, the phrase “Open the way, and drown like those before you".

Needless to say, I all but jumped out of my skin, rolling away from the source of the voice, but there was nothing there. Everyone else in the room looked at me like I'd taken leave of my senses, and they all claim to have heard nothing but fuzz coming through the array. I made an executive decision at that point to abort whatever it was Artemis was trying to do. The systems all looked fine, but the lack of response and the voices I heard scared me. I hit the retraction trigger, which kicked in the reversal of the cable coil. I sent away most of the research staff, asking the two concords we have posted here to stay with me. We waited those eight agonising minutes for the sphere to surface in silence, the array having fallen quiet the instant I activated the emergency system.

When the bathysphere finally emerged and hit the top of the winch, we rushed over and pulled the winch around away from the hole, and dropped the sphere on the lab floor. I all but broke my wrist in my rush to lever the hatch open, but managed to loosen the mechanism enough to pull the door away. I didn't get the chance. The door burst open as soon as I did so, and a torrent of black fluid burst from the inside of the sphere, knocking me to the ground and coating the entirety of the floor. It stank, the scent somewhere between seaweed and the cloying tang of iron that fills your senses when you get a nosebleed. I pulled myself to my feet and rushed over to see if Artemis was still inside. I was met instead by Artemis pulling himself out of the sphere, the fluid dripping off of him in thick, viscous rivulets, pouring out of his mouth and nose, leaking from his eyes.

I only realised I'd frozen to the spot when he spluttered a great amount more of the fluid from his mouth, almost as if his lungs were full of it. He stumbled as he did, and I rushed forward to catch him. His eyes were entirely vacant, but he seemed to recognise me, and I think he whispered my name before losing consciousness.

Neither of the concords knew what to do with him. None of the incantations or remedies they had prepared seemed to have any effect at all, other than causing the fluid to bubble as it continued to pour out of him. I had no choice, I ended up dragging him onto our supply ship and made a beeline for the hydraulic lift. He didn't stir the entire time, I have no idea if all that time unconscious has done him any harm, but it took over a full day's light from finding him to getting him to Chalia's clinic. I hope none of the charms I tried on the way up made anything worse. Void take me, what a miserable day.

I don't know what he was thinking. I hope Chalia can help him. I don't know what I'll do if I lose him. I've dedicated the last eight cycles to being there for him, and I've barely left his side since swearing myself to his protection. I don't know if I'll be able to live with myself if my lapsed supervision leads to the loss of our founder. I doubt I'd have much of a place here going forwards. If he's okay, I don't know, I guess I'll never let him out of my sight again. Why in the name of any or all the empyreans in the heavens he thought doing an unmonitored solo dive was the right call, I just cannot fathom. I'm sorry if you end up reading this, Artemis, and if so I'm so very glad you've recovered enough to be reading again, but you're a fucking idiot.

Ness Shepherd
Sworn Covenant Guardian of the August Order
Chosen Companion to Artemis Kaumera
20th Light of the Season of Shadow, Cycle 338.

242

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 23/09/2026

Swordtember Day 23! 23 - Fool Artemis has a crisis of conscience. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry 338-229.

I have dismissed the staff for today.

The first manned dive test of the bathysphere was scheduled for first light, on which I and another researcher were intended to travel down to a depth of a thousand feet, and linger for a half turn of the sand before surfacing. However, during the night, I was gripped by a terror that froze my heart dead in my chest. As I slept, I saw the man's eyes bleed as he reached out a hand to me, screaming, not making a sound. I will not name the researcher I had selected for the task; lest he read these pages at some point in the future and know the fate he was nearly damned to. I have not become any more at ease in the presence of that accursed thing in the many seasons we have been working on it, and I cannot shake the feeling that something may go terribly wrong when first we attempt to deploy it properly.

After sitting inside during the pressurisation process last cycle, I was overtaken by a crushing paranoia and, in a moment of weakness, decreed that it should not be piloted as a solo operation. I now see that this was an act of exceptionally indulgent self-service. Might I doom another to a cold metal tomb in the depths so that I might not face that end alone? I must make efforts to ward this journal's contents against my own prejudice and emotional experience such that I do not irrevocably mar their intended pragmatism, but I must mark on this occasion my utter dissatisfaction in the strength of mine own character.

This vessel was installed at my insistence, it was I who oversaw its construction, it was I who proselytised pursuit of the knowledge we might acquire in sounding the Boiling Sea in such a fashion. It follows then, that it is I who should make that first voyage, and I alone.

Making preparations then, it seems as though everything is in order for a preliminary dive. The ventilation system has been exhibiting good airflow throughout, and the design we came up with for a suspension cable that will not kink or tangle around the ventilation system has held up to every stress test we could conceive of. Communication will be achieved through a resonance charm, which will tie the vibration of a series of alloyed rods within the central support pillar of the sphere to an identical set of rods installed in the observation room. This should allow for the transmission of audible speech from one location to the other. However, until we attempt this on a manned dive, we cannot know for sure how the waters will interfere with synchronous bipartite charms such as these. With luck, even if vocal transmissions become distorted, the system will still successfully communicate raised voices or any unusual commotion within the sphere.

The safety system also appears to be satisfactorily responsive. The emergency retraction mechanism has been functioning correctly, and triggering the mechanism from within the sphere itself sounds the appropriate alarms in the laboratory and initialises the spring loaded reversal spool on the suspension coil virtually instantly. The cable itself will, at its maximum lowered length, allow for the bathysphere to be suspended approximately ten thousand feet below the water's surface; full retraction will be far from instantaneous. I anticipate with the limitations of spool speed, amplified by the drag factor of the water, the bathysphere would take somewhere in the region of a half turn of the sand, which equals our initial proposed test duration. At six feet per second, I don't believe we have the technology to expedite the emergency ascent without significant progress in the strength of our available materials.

I will admit to a great deal of trepidation concerning this venture. Would that I have an empyrean to offer my prayers to, a pragmatist though I am. They'd likely laugh. They may already be laughing now, as I prepare to lower myself into the black. May they take pity on this ambitious fool, and pluck him from the deep if only to prolong their amusement.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
19th Light of the Season of Shadow, Cycle 338.

0143

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 22/09/2026

Swordtember Day 22! 22 - Crystalline Something about moths and flames. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry 337-524.

Today, we finally switch operations back from the temporary lighthouse structure we deployed after the collapse of Espial Rock's original lighthouse. It has served its purpose these past two cycles, and we have observed minimal disruption to shipping operations around the rocks along the coastline here. However, the lighthouse we have incorporated into the structure of this new research facility will surely provide every ship in the area with safer passage for many, many cycles to come.

The tower is twice as tall as the original, a feat owed to developments we have made in material sciences allowing for stronger and more durable structures to stand proud in the face of the gale winds we often see in this hemisphere. The beacon itself is a triumph, the crowning achievement of our advances in science and arcana both. Able to intensify the strength of a candle flame many thousand fold, the light it produces can sweep a diameter easily fifteen times wider than the previous designs. This will significantly improve visibility during even the worst storms, and I anticipate we will see groundings drop into the single digits for even a full lunar cycle. I cannot help but feel an immense sense of pride in knowing that the work we have dedicated ourselves to can have such a profound beneficial effect for the communities here.

$I have spent a great deal of time working on this lens technology, and so to see it harnessed in such an effective manner is wonderful to see realised. The beacon uses a mathematically defined spiral of individual lenses that redirect the flame's light into a prism, which refracts the light and focuses it ahead of the next lens, and so on. What results is an incredibly intense needle of white-hot light that can catch paper or fabric aflame if it is allowed to drift into the light's path. Next, this is directed into a large refined crystal that splits the light into its constituent colours, which lose their immolating nature whilst retaining their intensity. These scattered colours hit a curved mirror that encircles the crystal, and are finally projected through a large fractal lens, which throws the light out in a wide beam that is undeterred by rain and fog. However, while the success of this project may massage my ego somewhat, I am reminded of a failed experiment I attempted some seven cycles back. It pains me to recall such instances of failure, such that an experiment did not even go wrong so much as eschew results of any kind. An undesirable reaction is still a reaction, and yields information with which one might achieve the desired one; a lack of response to stimulus at all suggests a void in one's understanding of the topic to begin with. Mayhap a return to my efforts to puzzle out the nature of the black sun's light would be better served with such a focus (if one would forgive the unintentional wordplay) on directing the light into a more concentrated form through a series of prisms, with an improved fractal lens serving as the last in a series of light treatments, rather than the sole medium? With luck, I could produce far more meaningful results than simply illuminating my laboratory again. Ex Arcana Scientia. Artemis Kaumera Head of Arcane Research for the August Order 34th Light of the Season of Growth, Cycle 337.$

092

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 21/09/2026

Swordtember Day 21! 21 - Cocoon You successfully craft one (1) experimental pressure vessel. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry 337-486.

It's finished.

It took significantly more effort and innovation than I might have expected, and required assistance from several of my colleagues, who appear to share my enthusiasm for venturing into the depths; a boon I had not anticipated. The testing phase took a surprisingly long time, something about the waters of the Boiling Sea being almost eager to destroy things that venture down into its depths. Our first several prototypes failed as soon as they emerged from the overhang and entered the waters proper- we have Ness to thank for dissuading our more naïve attendants from volunteering to man the first test dive.

I am quite satisfied with my proposed construction method, however - a net of wire alloy that was enchanted with extremely high tensile strength and fused to the bathysphere's outer diameter allowed for the main pieces of the prototypes to be retrieved after each failure, preventing the waste of valuable material. The secret appeared to be doubling down on this methodology; constructing both an endoskeleton and exoskeleton of the alloy that would take the transverse forces. This enabled the recycled sections of starship bulkhead to compress against one another as one might construct a stone archway, with a flexible membrane sandwiched between them to ensure the vessel holds tight. A final abjurative enchantment from Ness has ensured that this final version of the bathysphere will retain its integrity to even the most extreme conditions we can subject it to.

I have now personally sat inside while we have put the vessel through its pressurisation procedure. I must confess to feeling extremely unnerved during the process, as sitting alone cocooned by cold unyielding metal as it groans under load does not offer much in the way of comfort. I could not shake the feeling that something terrible lurked beyond its walls, just out of sight through the one porthole we installed on the vessel's side. I cannot image how amplified that feeling will be once the bathysphere is hundreds of feet below the surface of the ocean, beyond where the already limited light of the black sun can reach. I feel a mandatory crew minimum of two is something I should enforce on any dives once we commence fully manned testing.

I am considering additional failsafes we might add to the vessel before I will regard it as complete. I believe some manner of communication between the bathysphere and the station should be established, as well as some form of emergency retrieval system that can be activated from within the sphere in the event that the communication solution becomes compromised.

Apparently, both Ness and myself have garnered some amount of reputation regarding perhaps proceeding in situations where others might take pause. I feel that this is unjustified, considering we are both fairly accomplished wielders of magic, and that to my memory neither of us have acted rashly in any situation where we might have brought harm upon ourselves. However, I will not argue my point in this case, as it appears that our caution in this matter has at least communicated effectively the importance of safe operation of this piece of equipment. What we have created here is an incredibly dangerous piece of technology, and while it is intended to provide a safe haven in an inhospitable environment, it can so easily become a pressurised casket, or even a bomb.

I will insist on at least several seasons of unmanned testing with this final design before I allow a soul inside as it is lowered into the depths. Even as it sits in the room with its hatch open, completely inert, I cannot help but keep it in the corner of my eye, lest it pressurise itself and explode, taking the room and everything inside with it. I will be much happier once I am no longer required to be working full time from this room.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
66th Light of the Season of Winds, Cycle 337.

163

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 20/09/2026

Swordtember Day 19! 20 - Junk Artemis recycles. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry 337-475.

The work on our new research facility is nearing completion. I am pleased to report the channel I requested has been drilled successfully, and we now have a direct pathway down through the foundation of Espial Rock into the depths of the Boiling Sea. We were certainly fortunate to find that the old lighthouse had been positioned such that it sat atop an overhang, rather than a solid bed of stone that would run all the way down to the ocean floor.

Here, I intend to install a bathysphere with which to sound the depths and conduct novel research of this body of water from the relative safety of an enclosed vessel. This gives the added benefit of allowing us access from the facility to ocean water isolated from the storms and winds so typical of this region. However, bathyspheres were new technology in the old world and as such, I will be attempting this development with little expertise in the matter. We have sufficient reserves of pressure-hardened materials salvaged from the Ark for such purposes, and some of the preliminary work on pressure vessels was documented in the old Progress Initiative's archive, which will surely grant a supplementary level of knowledge on the matter.

The ability to go into the depths from a controlled location is one that should grant us wide freedoms with regard to the variety of research we can perform. Geological analysis of the sea bed, observation of wildlife that does not present itself on the surface, perhaps even of tectonic movement during the Season of Tremors. The hole now dug through the rock makes its way about two hundred feet down before it clears the overhang and descends into the ocean proper, which will prevent the bathysphere from being buffeted by the most violent of the currents toward the waters' surface.

From initial testing, I have deduced that the hole seems to be in an ideal position, as any of my beacon charms seem to disappear into nothingness once they hit the waters of the wider ocean. I can feel them move down so, so far away from me- although I could not speculate as to a mathematical distance. With luck, this may mean that we find ourselves positioned over a chasm or trench of some description. I will admit to a great deal of anticipation in this matter, as I find myself more and more pondering those places we cannot yet reach. This could be a significant step forward in achieving the knowledge we've yet been denied.

At least, that spoke to a level of confidence I was possessed of at the day's beginning. I now sit on the sterile stone of the marine laboratory floor, surrounded by research papers and pieces of void-scarred scrap alloy from a centuries old starship that will never fly again, watching the captive waters of the Boiling Sea lap impotently at the rim of a fifteen foot hole in the floor. Damn it all. I shall attempt to rally, and likely enlist some assistance in the matter.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
55th Light of the Season of Winds, Cycle 337.

194

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 19/09/2026

Swordtember Day 19! 19 - Atom Artemis makes a discovery. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Article 336-0234.

I took some respite away from the ardour of work on the research station to venture down into the caves. Ever since the fallen star last cycle, the Season of Tremors has served to expose more and more hidden antechambers in areas we had previously considered fully explored.

Work during this season is important, as we are working to ensure that the laboratory rooms in the facility are sufficiently isolated from any seismic movement that might disrupt the measuring equipment we are installing. We are learning new things with every task we complete, and I am sure that these lessons can be taken and applied in making updates to our primary location.

The antechamber I encountered on today's perambulation must have been revealed overnight. Under normal circumstances, I would be best served to wait until we could make time for a survey team to get down there and ensure the new cave structure was stable. However, I could not wait for procedure today.

The walls inside the new chamber looked to have markings on them- something that made me abandon all caution and rush in to observe up close. Unlike the fossil materials we have seen exposed on some of the walls, these appeared to have been made deliberately. Such a finding would be unprecedented, as to my knowledge we have found no evidence to suggest the existence of any creature sufficiently advanced to produce cave drawings at any point before our arrival to this world. But yet, here it apparently was, inches away from my face as I examined it.

The markings appear to have been made using some kind of sharp stone, and the rough nature of the scratches seems to imply haste, rather than the absence of any artistic skill. It depicts some sort of diagram, a central circle contained by a ring of eight more. Those eight
outer circles were joined by faint ellipses that seemed to encage the central circle. Beyond that, the entire diagram was encircled by some kind of ribbon, which appeared to feed out of the smaller of two additional circles that had been drawn outside the rest. These two had no ellipses connecting them, and sat diametrically opposed at either side of the wall, forming a straight line of three with the central circle.

Abandoning protocol for a second time, I felt the compulsion to trace my fingers along the lines in the stone. The ellipses seemed to favour one side, stretching out further toward the larger of the two outer circles. It was somewhat difficult to parse at first, but there appeared to be four discrete ellipses, with each appearing to possess two of the eight circles on the middle ring. The circles were all simple shapes with no detail, with the exception of the smaller of the two outer circles. This had been carved out with what seemed like more intent, the outer diameter of the circle being more deliberately rounded than the others, with the interior of the circle having been carved out completely, rather than being left as a simple outline. Running my fingers along the ribbon that stretched from the inside of that carved circle revealed a detailed texture that felt strange to the touch. It was a repetitive pattern, almost akin to the scales of a serpent.

Alas, I cannot bring this article back to archive it correctly for further study. I will have to ensure some kind of pressing is taken of the diagram as a substitute.

In the meantime, I am left to ponder a now greatly prominent question in my mind. Could it be possible that there had been people here before we arrived? We have found absolutely nothing to suggest their presence on the entire planet in the centuries we have been here, and it is not as if Felicity was barren or damaged upon our arrival. It is, by all account, a rich and verdant ecosystem with a wide variety of flora and fauna, and there is a diverse plethora of differing biospheres that support all manner of biological existence to be found across the globe. If there were once people here, where did they and all evidence of their lives here go? Did they leave? Did their species go extinct? Could there possibly be other evidence of their presence beside this one isolated instance of apparent proof? The mind reels.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
61st Light of the Season of Tremors, Cycle 336.

121

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 18/09/2026

Swordtember Day 18! 18 - Tempest Artemis has some complaints. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry 336-021

Today, I began the arduous process of relocating my main laboratory from its place in the Black Peaks to the new research facility on Espial Rock, now preparations have been mostly completed. I tried as I might to conjure up some excuse to delay the journey until next season, but I could not justify delaying the project by another fifty lights.

I must confess to despising the descent from the peaks down to the Boiling Sea. The journey was already sufficiently unpleasant when it required the series of primitive rope elevators we had in place initially, but every attempt to speed up the descent increases my disdain by an order of magnitude. I am all for progress, but one remains possessed of the opinion that we might have considered the matter settled; once we had developed the materials required to produce longer pulleys that would not break under their own weight, at least. Only requiring three transfers of equipment while dangling against the face of the Glass Cliffs was a blessing compared to the fifteen it took with traditional lifts.

The weavers tasked with further improving the descent were very proud of their first iteration following our reclamation of magics in the second degree. I was somewhat less swayed. Yes, it *is* impressive that they devised a charm that allowed them to slow an object's rate of descent. No, it is *not* impressive that they could not adjust the charm beyond this, and the velocity it reduced an object to was, for some reason, inversely proportionate to the mass of that object. Fine for a single person to freefall for thirteen minutes if they so wished to drown in the swell or be dashed upon the rocks, eaten by a casque shark etcetera etcetera upon completing their descent, but to lower a ship from that height would have the vessel falling for the best part of two excruciating days.

However, I would eagerly, nay, rhapsodically take those two days over our current solution, which is to deploy the char…

However, I would eagerly, nay, rhapsodically take those two days over our current solution, which is to deploy the charm in the final moments of the descent. That is to say, simply letting the ship plummet over a four thousand foot sheer wall of unyielding glass, and just as the waters poise to greedily swallow the horizon, imploring one of the local empyreans to deliver the ship from its assured destruction and permit enough time for the charm to slow its plunge to something approaching survivable. To do this on a pleasant day is already sufficient to compete for the lowest part of one's entire lunar cycle. To do it during the Season of Rains, as a howling squall whips around the ship and threatens to capsize it in mid-air? I curse the day I encouraged this venture.

I cannot write any more today, I fear. The weakness of my flesh shall win out over scientific rigour today. I intend to spend the rest of the voyage voiding my stomach into the waters of the Boiling Sea.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
21<sup>st</sup> Light of the Season of Rains, Cycle 336

162

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 17/09/2026

Swordtember Day 17! 17 - Bramble Ness has come a long way. (Prompt list in comments) #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry NS-335-239

A lot has changed since I last made entries to the journal of record, and this will be the first of my official entries. Artemis has requested that I begin making these entries regularly, and has insisted that I speak freely when doing so.

Since last I wrote here, I have made my studies of the arcane a priority, my diligence in which seemed to catch Artemis's attention. I have found the traditional forms of weaving to be somewhat vexing to me, though I have discovered I have an apparent natural aptitude toward magics that allows for some flexibility in my methodology. Artemis strongly discouraged shortcuts, but admitted that he couldn't argue with results once he saw the progress I made upon deviating from traditional written techniques. I believe it has also spurred some curiosity in him, and may have influenced his decision to take me on as his apprentice several cycles back.

Taking this as a vote of confidence, I focused my efforts mainly into the abjurative magics I found the easiest of affinity with, and worked closely with Artemis to formalise my approach. As such, we have now defined an entirely new school of thought on the subject of weaving, and while Artemis belongs to the group of traditional weavers known as ætherweavers, I apparently find myself as the first "Covenant Weaver" our people have produced. To note, this differs from traditional weaving (ætherweavers and lyreweavers primarily) in the key points of not needing the traditional external energy source to power my magics. Artemis requires specific ingredients on hand to cast his various charms and spells, much as a lyreweaver requires an audience whose attention and admiration they channel through their performance to be able to cast those same magics. I, however, seem to be able to produce my magics purely through dedication and strength of will.

Following Artemis's suggestion, I formed a sort of pact with myself that I would dedicate my magics toward protecting those I cared about. This “covenant" as he referred to it served, as he suspected, to increase the power and refinement of the magics I was capable of performing, as though the fact that I had dedicated myself to something that mattered to me so deeply was sufficient to grant me access to a deeper connection to the cosmos. As such, I have chosen the title of “Covenant Guardian" at the Order, as I felt a distinction as to what purpose my magic and I served was necessary. Artemis almost immediately requested that I take up a formal role as his personal protector, a purpose I was more than happy to fulfil.

It was with this magic I protected myself and my charge today.

In light of the usual expansion of the polar mists during this season, and the fact that we now have more of a presence in the anteheliocal hemisphere while the research station on Espial Rock is being established, Artemis has been encouraging more research expeditions toward the swamps at the pole. Our most recent experiments with my abjurative charms have finally allowed us to treat our materials such that they do not decompose as they are exposed to the mists, and as a result we are now able to venture in for short periods without succumbing to their effects.

An article we brought out early this morning appeared at first glance to be a discarded sword, one that Artemis was keen to analyse, given that most handcrafted equipment would've degraded beyond recognition given sufficient time in the mists. However, upon grasping the handle and pulling the weapon free of the stump in which it was embedded, the blade split into a writhing mass of thorned vines. They moved as if with a mind of their own, and the hooked barbs along their length tore rapidly through my armguard, and embedded themselves deep into the flesh of my forearm. The pain was immediate, and the others came running at the sound of my screams, but couldn't help me for fear of the brambles spreading.

Artemis, bless his soul, was the only one foolhardy enough to try to help. He saw the strange plant climbing further up my arm, and tried to intervene before the vines reached my neck. He tried to cast some kind of blighting charm on the plant, but all it seemed do was draw its attention, as though he had somehow invoked its ire. As two of the brambles ripped themselves from my flesh and lashed in his direction, something inside of me triggered. The thought of letting my mentor come to harm overcame the fear and the pain, and a translucent bubble appeared around the abomination, severing the tips of the attacking vines as if it were made of searing hot flame. It seems I still have much to learn about this new form of magic, but it was by no means an unwelcome surprise.

With some concentration, I was able to manipulate the bubble's shape, which allowed me to immolate the thorns inside my arm and suspend the rest of the sword and its vines until we could transfer it to one of our more stable containment vessels. It appears that while the magic itself had no effect on my body, the heat produced by the burning thorns cauterised my wounds, and so I will bear the marks of this encounter as a reminder. Saves me gold on a forearm tattoo, I suppose.

'til next time.

Ness Shepherd
Sworn Covenant Guardian of the August Order
Chosen Companion to Artemis Kaumera
29th Light of the Season of Shadow, Cycle 335

263

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 16/09/2026

Day 16 of Swordtember! 16 - Leviathan The Season of Starfall lives up to its name. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Article 335-0067.

It appears I will be making arrangements for that research station on Espial Rock after all. It has been several cycles since we opted for the less intensive stabilisation repairs on the lighthouse there, and it had proven successful as of two days ago. Alas, the Season of Starfall brings surprises, as it always does, and in a rare instance of a falling star striking land rather than the ocean, one has wiped out the upper third of the lighthouse and buried itself in the rocks below.

Thankfully, the strike occurred before nightfall, and the current lighthouse keeper was in the adjacent building, sleeping. Had it been past nightfall, it would most certainly have killed them. However, it leaves a significant issue regarding the safety of any vessels wishing to cross the Boiling Sea. For the time being, we have issued a notice advising a considerably wide berth around the islands here. It will cause disruptions to the fisheries delivering food to the various settlements, but it is not worth risking the safety of those vessels for. The Order can arrange for additional provision deliveries in the event of any shortages.

$Inspecting the impact site, it is apparent the entire building will need to be rebuilt. The tower itself has sustained massive damage, the upper third completely obliterated- including most notably the lamp and lens- and the rest of the structure has been torn through by a cobweb of cracks and fractures which have rendered it entirely uninhabitable. The falling star did not appear to be at all dissuaded in its momentum by the tower, and has buried itself thoroughly in the stone bed that the island sits upon. I have been referring to it as a falling star despite the obvious taxonomical failings of the term, but for all intent and purpose it may as well be a fallen star, given that sparing the eight moons maintaining their silent patrol between the two ever-present suns, we do appear to be entirely alone in this part of the cosmos- the night sky is a void of tar and pitch, such that the stars do appear to have fallen from sight. The hole it has left is far too wide and jagged to descend safely, however, in something of a stroke of luck, the star breached an existing cave system in the rock bed- one reasonably accessible from the beach on the western flank of the lighthouse's outcropping. Having made a brief expedition down there, I can finally get to the actual meat of this entry- the article in question. It is a fossil, of exceptional detail and level of preservation, which appears to have been exposed as the falling star tore through the rock. The star itself appears to travel still further down into the rock bed, and I may insist a return and attempted retrieval of it once we have the research station fully established.$

The creature to which the fossil in question belongs to is difficult to identify, but it appears to be the remains of something truly colossal. It is a single scale, seemingly of something draconic in nature, rather than the piscine source one might have assumed given its location. The single scale is maybe sixteen and eleven inches at its longest and widest points respectively, and appears to have been somewhere in the region of two inches thick. The creature this belonged to must have been nigh invulnerable, as a lattice of these scales would surely repel even the most refined spearpoints. The rock the fossil pulled away from has preserved the pattern of the scale, a rippled effect that seems to have retained an iridescent colour gradient, which implies the presence of some trace crystalline elements in the scale prior to its fossilisation.

The blood runs cold at the image of a creature of this magnitude, one clad in resplendent pearlescent armour that might once have swum in the depths that end not twenty yards away, back at the cave's entrance. Though at this size, it may not have swam the depths so much as it would simply have filled them. It is difficult to imagine an ocean vast enough to accommodate such a titanic animal. One would hope that, were we to share a planet with such an entity, it would have made its presence readily known by now.

It's strange, but it seems warm to the touch. Resting my palm on its surface and observing the way the surface almost undulates against the skin feels... right.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
45th Light of the Season of Starfall, Cycle 335.

1226

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 15/09/2026

Day 15 of Swordtember! 15 - Lost Artemis takes some alone time. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry 330-367.

I find myself sat on the shore of the Silent Lake. The trees fall away here, opening onto to the forest's best kept secret. The Ark came down so close to here, yet the trees do not remember. Most of us here do not remember. The lake is aptly named, existence seems to fall away when one walks within the clearing's perimeter. The forest forms an unbroken boundary, a seal for the noise of the outside world. I ventured in at first looking for the farm's so called “werewolf", but as I cannot bring myself to dishonesty at this juncture, I admit to becoming disinterested not long after entering the treeline. I desired solitude for a time, and so came here, watching the night fall and then be broken again by the first soft fingers of sunlight caress the treetops around me.

A bird that looks so like a kingfisher is flitting across the surface of the water, pre-empting the dawn, hunting one of the many small silvery fish that permeate the lake's depths. Curious that this planet's biology so closely mirrors home, that we so readily fall back on taxonomy from a world that is entirely lost to us. Try as I might to not think so long on the matter, I falter. What are we doing here? Cut off from the cosmos as thoroughly as the treeline does this lake, isolated and suffocatingly quiet. We have lost everything, and yet we continue on, almost to pretend as if this world is still ours. We are but visitors to this place and might as well have passed to the Beyond when we left Raonia behind. My only proof remaining that I do not yet breathe the air of the chthonic veil is that my family does not sit beside me.

$Our customs, our communities- I remember them while I can and do my utmost to preserve that memory; but our magic, void take me- even our deities- I mourn them. I grieve in their absence. The younger among us make new tradition, we build community around what we have not lost, certainly- but we struggle in vain to regain a fraction of the power we once had, the bonds we formed to the wider cosmos severed with such miserable and sonorous finality. The chordalists tell us we have found new bonds here, to new patrons willing to bestow their gifts, but why are they so quiet, and so few in number? They once had names for the caretakers of every aspect of existence, and now I am told they speak to fewer than ten. Where is Laserie, where is Ryne, where are Imperi, Kaust, Aldir, Salysus, Osses, Vyr, Tai, Nyth, Uara, Ytdes and Yvtres, Fyke, Hytra, Elos, Ittos, Ozris, Akaen, Gilan, Axtia, Idall, Totsyn, Aesis, Sephrim, Usin, Rorlan, Qhedais... even more I cannot remember, do any of us remember them now? Where are they? Does my home yet exist past that invisible boundary, or is it forever lost to me? Am I doomed to wander the void as a disoriented child wanders the forest? Our concords once bent the world to their whim, raising the dead, empowering the weak, building cathedrals that threatened to pierce the sky in reverence of the ones they believed gave them their magics. If one were to believe them, the heavens were filled with those empyrean gift givers, those stewards of the natural world and all its workings. Here, the chordalists lead small congregations in like-minded community, building their chapels and temples by hand to perform feats barely outside the reach of our understanding of medicine based in scientific rigour, and the chiralists long since disappeared into the wilds in search of a single seed of power in barren fields that stretch beyond the horizon.$

I see Tohi reflected in the water, pulling away from that unnatural apoapsis still, with Wæra close on its heels ready for its season in the spotlight. The lake should lose its purpose as a mirror to the cosmos as the day breaks, and yet, I still see with perfect clarity the movement of the heavens, the surface of the water of the Cosmic Lake sitting untouched by the yellow sun's light, somewhere beyond my eyes.

Eight moons, eight veils, eight empyreans, bound in stasis here where no other will see them.

I close my eyes, and somewhere in the forest, I see two people. Two young women. They disturb the snow and mark the ground in the shape of a beast. One raises a cylinder carved from wood to her mouth, and issues a cry that stills the woods around them, carrying over the treetops and startling the farmhands from their slumber. They pack up their gear, and head west, leaving their home behind. I see no value in betraying their secret. Their flight can stay confined to records of whose pages few souls will ever peruse.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
17th Light of the Season of Snow, Cycle 330.

Image Description Graphic reading:
"REGAL BONES SWORDTEMBER 2026
1: Fanart
2: Gamble
3: Primal
4: Flock
5: Decay
6: Noir
7: Wings
8: Oblivion
9: Fractal
10: Fae
11: Hunger
12: Inversion
13: Flesh
14: Werewolf
15: Lost
16: Leviathan
17: Bramble
18: Tempest
19: Atom
20: Junk
21: Cocoon
22: Crystalline
23: Fool
24: Sticky
25: Generation
26: Moon
27: Grave
28: Mystery
29 + 30: Deadly + Sins
Prompts brought to you by my amazing patrons at patreon.com/regal_bones !"

132

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 14/09/2026

Day 14 of Swordtember! 14 - Werewolf Artemis does some community work. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry 330-366.

The situation on Espial Rock does appear to be well in hand, however, the hamlet at its northernmost point has expressed difficulties in keeping the lighthouse staffed and operational. I cannot fault them for this, especially considering the increase in seismic activity off the coast, the night's watch during the Season of Magma must surely be a deeply unpleasant ordeal. Our options are either: to reinforce both the lighthouse and the cliff's edge below, which would temporarily stabilise the building and hopefully reassure the people there that it is safe to operate at least for the next few cycles, or, we invest more heavily in the area and convert the lighthouse to a research outpost. The latter option gives us a more stable long term outlook for a critical piece of infrastructure, as the coastline there poses a growing threat to the increasing number of vessels traversing the Boiling Sea in recent cycles.

I for one would be very keen to see a research station established in the anteheliocal hemisphere, and the location for it seems excellent. Espial Rock is sufficiently northward to remain untouched by the expansion of the polar mists during the Seasons of Growth and Shadow, and will also avoid overly intense exposure to the light of the Black Sun, which we are fast coming to suspect may not be entirely benign. The seismic activity off the coast is something I would like to study further, and having an outpost so close would allow for some bespoke equipment to be developed and stored on-site.

In the meantime, however, I have been called away from the survey expedition. There has been a community distress order issued for one of the small farm villages to the west of Sailskeep, near the old landing site. I'm aware they've been having some issues with predators living in the woods surrounding the northern lakes, but we've now received two notices of missing persons in as many weeks. In some selfish way, I am glad to be leaving the bitter southern colds and winds of the season there for the gentler, softer snows of the heliocal hemisphere.

Having talked with some of the farmhands here, several of the villages have reported hearing howling during the night- not unusual for the area, especially so during the Season of Snow, but they have said it is not the typical cry of a wolf. One described it as “hitting a pitch that almost felt designed to put a person on edge", and the rest concur that the volume is also in excess of what their experience of the white wolves in this area has informed to date.

At the farm's far boundary, the wooden fencing has suffered a significant level of damage, which would appear to be consistent with a large animal of some kind throwing its weight against it. The ground around the damaged section has also been disturbed, something breaking through the snow digging into the frozen ground. The soil does appear to bear the marks made by some exceptionally large pawprints, which terminate in deep grooves that would be congruous with a vicious set of claws.

These prints lead away from the farmland into the forest to the northwest. Judging from the distance between the prints, the stride whatever creature left them possesses would suggest one capable of moving at genuinely terrifying speed. However, they are curiously uniform. I will follow them, as I am sure I will come across their maker ere the yellow sun takes it leave for the night.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
16th Light of the Season of Snow, Cycle 330.

031

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 13/09/2026

Day 13 of Swordtember! 13 - Flesh Definitely fine. (TW for some injury descriptions) #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry 330-289.

My attendant weaver Miss Shepherd informs me she has filed a small update for each of the days I have been incapacitated. Whilst I worry about the integrity of this journal, and do at times take issue with the rather informal tone of her professional writing, I concede I am appreciative of her intent and will allow those entries to stand. Her work is excellent in spite of her tendency for overfamiliarity, and I will ensure she is afforded a place on the survey team she correctly predicted we'll need to send to Espial Rock next season. I intend to accompany them, as the seismic readings coming from there have indeed piqued my interest; as Miss Shepherd was so astute in pointing out.

As for my absence, our Head of Medicine and my erstwhile mentor Chalia Faren informs me that she found me wandering the halls outside my office in a dazed state, my face and hands covered in a black fluid. I cannot claim to remember the events of that evening, but judging from the state of my laboratory floor and the discarded clothes I found upon my return, it seems an experiment I was working on caused one of my sample vials to burst in my face. I must confess, I seem to have finally reached an inflection point in my archival and can no longer remember every article I have stored. When I have a free moment I will search the records, the void black ichorous substance it appeared to contain cannot be particularly complex to identify among the samples.

Chalia has kindly advised me against any strenuous activities for the present moment, as she has been unable to determine whether my condition at second light was one of shock or one of pressure trauma to my skull. Our grasp of healing magics has improved, certainly, but is still apparently insufficient to dispel the ongoing risk of a concussive injury.

What I am struggling to explain, however, is the injuries I sustained beneath my clothing; something I have not shared with Chalia. I inspected my discarded clothes for corresponding damage, but found none. There are lacerations across my entire torso, which would be consistent with a glass vial being shattered under high pressure, if it were not for the fact they also cover my back. Looking at my legs, I am finding it hard to reconcile the evidence of my flesh with my earlier hypothesis. These lacerations are much less neat, not indicative of glass wounds at all. These are large, wavering as I trace their length along my thighs, and the skin at the wound is jagged and torn. It is almost as if a beast were to have put its claws to me, but had then been deliberate in drawing out the action of carving the wounds into my flesh for as long as possible.

While it may be accurate to state I have not taken particular interest in keeping myself well manicured in recent cycles, it is becoming difficult to ignore the fact that my fingernails have been shredded down to the cuticle.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
9th Light of the Season of Magma, Cycle 330.

P.S. I am realising that as Miss Shepherd has so rightly pointed out, I have not defined record numbers corresponding to a date or just a sequential order. As I have to this point always produced one record entry per day, I had never considered it an issue. I believe in light of her choosing to define her entries by date order, that is what I shall do, today being the two hundredth and eighty-ninth light of our three hundred and thirtieth lunar cycle.

2113

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 12/09/2026

Day 12 of Swordtember! 12 - Inversion Someone fills in for Artemis in his absence. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry 330-284.

I noticed that Artemis hasn't submitted a record entry to the archive since last light of the Season of Shadow, which I'm told is because he's been ill! It seemed a shame to let his records fall behind, he's not missed a day for over six cycles. That's what, over 3500 entries now?

Not much has happened since the eclipse, we haven't had any new articles because we're still waiting for two different research expeditions to get back. I know Artemis has been really interested to get his hands on anything new coming out of the anteheliocal hemisphere, he always seems to take his time to enjoy cataloguing an article when it comes from around the Boiling Sea or the Mists especially. Or maybe they're just harder to catalogue, I don't know!

Personally, I'm much more interested to see anything that comes from Raonia. Artemis always seems a little moody whenever something from the old world shows up, I guess it's hard for him knowing he can't ever go back there. I can't help but be fascinated, it's so weird knowing some of us came from another planet!

I guess I can't really relate to a lot of the stuff about the old world that bothers all the older folks, they always talk about how much they miss their magic and how much easier it made everything? I can't help feeling like they exaggerate sometimes, some of the stories they've told me just sound completely impossible. I suppose they did make a magic ship that got us here, so that must count for something, but some days I start to doubt the ship was even real either. It's really hard to imagine how some of the buildings and tools we have here ever fit together to make a ship.

Anyway, getting off topic, sorry! This season has been a pretty standard one, the heat in the heliocal hemisphere has been pleasant enough, I know there's been a little extra seismic activity off of Espial Rock in the Boiling Sea though, and I'm sure once Artemis is better it'll draw his focus there. In the meantime, I think we're sending some of the medical team down the cliffs to make sure the folk there are okay. I know they've been worried about the lighthouse there getting damaged for a few cycles now, maybe I can apply for the survey expedition I reckon they'll have to send after the next eclipse? I'd like to make at least one trip down there at some point, and it'd beat spending another season not going above ground.

Ness Shepherd
Weaver in Attendance, Arcane Research for the August Order
4th Light of the Season of Magma, Cycle 330.

P.S. I hope you don't mind me filling in for you Artemis, I just didn't want you to worry about leaving gaps!

P.P.S I'm sorry if I got the entry numbers mixed up- I wasn't sure if they were sequential or matched the date, I just went with the date because I couldn't find any records from this season in your office! Sorry again, hope you feel better!

052

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 11/09/2026

Day 11 of Swordtember! 11 - Hunger What lies in the deep? #rbswordtember

None have disturbed the peace beneath the waters of the Lake for an aeon. In the depths where none can tread, though some may walk upon its surface, this one alone has moved the stars and held back the cosmos.

But now they come here. Their reach exceeding their grasp, they rend the heavens in search of power. The sheer, unfettered temerity of a species that has not yet come to understand its own petty insignificance. They see not the folly of their avarice, that insidious hunger which so tightly weaves doom through the tapestry of all living things.

The scales have been tipped, and this one will right them, as ordained before existence began.

They will feel the true, crushing weight of existence brought to bear. They will be shown their fatuous vacuity as eternity stretches before them. This one will bring the grief of the cosmos down upon their heads and feast on their demise. They will behold the form of one untouched by infinity and they will know despair.

They will walk into the water.

They.

Will.

Drown.

063

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 10/09/2026

Day 10 of Swordtember! 10 - Fae And now for something completely different- (prompt list in comments) #rbswordtember

High in the sky above Felicity hangs Rakau, or what we eventually came to refer to as the Wild Moon. Blanketed in forest, those of us on Felicity's surface could only see the verdant greens of dense but nondescript growth, and make guesses as to the moon's true nature. Those greens told little of the story, a gradient from pole to pole that ran from the gentle soft colours of spring growth down to a dense, almost black spot at the opposite side.

How strange to be walking on her surface. The woods are ancient here, unspoiled by any who might have raised the blade of an axe in industrial ambition. The spacious meadows on what I suppose I'd call the moon's ‘upper' side are a rich and diverse ecosystem, home to myriad species that exist only on Rakau. Rodents that build with tools, folk half a foot tall that flit amid the treetops on insectoid wings, reptilian creatures with scales of bark and iridescent petals. I made fast friends with a little dragon with butterfly wings and foxglove scales after falling rather dramatically into a small hole. It had obscured the hole with an illusory floor, presumably hoping for some small mammal to stumble in for it to make a supper of. Reacting with good-natured laughter at a creature's tricks will get you far here, it seems, especially if you mask your surprise when said creature addresses you in the common tongue.

As you venture away from those meadows, the forest gets taller and denser. I might have assumed that the burrows and small settlements that pepper the meadows would have been the most populous region of this place, but I was not prepared for the scale of those communities that made their homes in the sprawling branches of the forest. Colossal treetop buildings, entire towns, suspended a hundred feet in the air and linked by a spiderweb of rope bridges.

It is by these linked communities that I made my way further into the depths of the trees, glad for the distance from the forest floor, which was becoming increasingly tangled in root networks interwoven with mycelium colonies I had never seen the size nor vibrancy of before. The cries of predators echo between the trees at nightfall, and I can only imagine the type of beasts that prowled below me as I took each day's rest. The settlements I visited were a bustling hive of barter and trade during the day, with creatures of all sorts exchanging food, crafted sundries, stories, enchantments.

At last, I came to the final settlement before the trees became too densely packed to build between. They'd been getting steadily taller as I made my way deeper, but the ones ahead of me were truly awe-inspiring. Even as the trunks became increasingly gnarled and twisted, they still towered above those trees behind me whose trunks reached perfectly skyward. Beyond this point, less and less of the sun's light was able to make its way through the canopy, and the roots below were obscured in a tight mist that blanketed the forest floor.

I cast my standard array of obfuscation charms, and began my climb down the rope ladder that would be my last contact with settled community for the near future. The temperature dropped as I descended into the mist, droplets of it beginning to appear like little beads of ice on my skin. Arriving unseen on the forest floor, I found that those mists hung about ten feet from the ground, giving a surprisingly clear view of the way forward. The air was deathly still in this place, almost as if the mists were keeping something below sealed from the wider world. The roots grew ever thicker, carpeting the vast majority of the forest floor, growing multiple feet thick in some instances, the thinner ones covered in vicious looking thorns. The mycelium remained just as prolific, albeit leaving its vibrancy back in the lesser forests. The mushroom caps there are tall and sickly white, and seem to ooze a viscous reddish black substance from their gills.

Clambering my way carefully over the mess of roots, I made my way further in. Insect life seems abundant here, which appears to be providing ample food for the arachnid population, as I am finding myself needing to reroute more and more often to avoid the tripwires of webs suspended between the trees. Triggering one of these wires would spell my immediate end, I fear, even with my physical presence magically obscured. The wires are half an inch thick, and the volume of the odd clicking I hear from the shadows would suggest the creatures that made them are significantly larger than me. Other than the odd rodent darting under the roots, I see little evidence of mammalian life, nor do I hear birds overhead.

I can also see several coloured lights, which each hang a few feet off the ground, glowing tantalisingly; conveniently past a tree trunk that is especially mired in shadow. There are multiple in eyesight, all glowing different colours. This would indicate several individual ambush hunters with at least some magical ability. The dead can return from the Chthonic Veil before I follow a wisp in the forest.

I believe I will not be able to penetrate much deeper from here, as the forest grows so thick and gnarled that I am beginning to lose my bearings. The trees I have been mentally marking as waypoints do not appear to be the same shape when I look back at them, and the creaks and crashes I can hear are clearly only low in volume as a result of their distance. The thought occurs that these trees may be capable of movement, and if that is truly the case, I may already be more lost than I realise. I think I should head back.

Last entry, recovered leather-bound journal, signed only as “Elera".
Cycle 649, New Era, estimate 30 cycles since last entry.

3112

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 09/09/2026

Day 9 of Swordtember! 9 - Fractal I'm... sure he's fine. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry 330-282.

I have not slept.

Since last light's entry, I have been working on something, a question that has been clawing at the back of my mind, trying to pull itself to the fore.

I stood staring at the black sun for what felt like an eternity, and when I finally tore my gaze away, I found it had only been a matter of a few minutes. Something compelled my attention, some *thing* sat squat upon my psyche and refused to leave nor let itself be perceived.

I cannot shake the thought that I am missing something crucial, some piece of knowledge hiding in plain sight, something that might yet grant me access to higher understanding of this planet and its strange, isolated place in the cosmos. I found myself working on a new lens, through which I decided to channel a burst of lightning magic. For what reason, I cannot say, only that it felt correct to do so. The resultant lens appears clouded, yet it clarifies in the presence of strong light, the cascading forks the lightning traversed seeming to multiply as they illuminate.

When I lift it up to the candle on my desk, it scatters the dancing flame into colours and shapes a thousand fold more vibrant than their source. This feels significant. Perhaps with this I could magnify the light of the black sun sufficiently to understand its nature, decipher the energies it creates? Maybe that wou [text is cut off]

Addendum - It appears I neglected to finish this entry correctly after that thought. I was diverted by the commencement of a minor haemorrhage of the sinus, which required more immediate attention. While I attended to that, I devised a display onto which I will project the magnified light. I have a direct channel to open air via the ventilation shaft above my laboratory, to the hatch of which I have now attached a mirror. This will allow me to direct the black sun's light down toward the lens, which I have mounted below the shaft's aperture, positioned above a large white square of canvas I have placed in the centre of the room.

As the light of the yellow sun fades for the night, leaving only the black sun in ever steady vigil, I will shortly receive my answer. I will write my observations as they take place, lest I miss some important detail.

The yellows of daylight are nearly gone, the strange muted greens and violets the black sun emits over the anteheliocal hemisphere becoming dominant across the canvas. No shapes yet.

I still see no shapes, though there does appear to be a line that splits the canvas in two. The greens and purples are mixing to glow a brilliant white, far more vibrant than the white of the canvas they are projected on to.

A shape is forming. On the side of the line furthest from me. A black circle. Its shape is perfect, as if the canvas had simply had a section of it removed, leaving a flawless cylinder of nothing carved through existence below it. I have never seen a black so dark. I can't look away. It's- looking at me.

I hear something. The water is boiling beneath my feet. The water is boiling in my head. The ripples- I feel them, I see the surface of the lake move behind my eyes. I know not your voice, who is that? What are you- deep cathedral murmur suffer lighthouse eyes seal veil despair despair despair despair despair despair WALK INTO THE WATER DROWN DROWN DROWN DROWN.

Alas, it appears another mild haemorrhage will disturb my work for today, but it would appear that it only serves as a final nail in the coffin of an experiment that simply will not yield results. I will take that as a sign to get more rest and think of further avenues to pursue come the morrow. I must gather my spare garments afore I head upstairs, as my colleagues may become concerned if I were to walk past with a shirt stained so thoroughly black as this.

Ex Scientia Nihil [text is glitched]

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
2nd Light of the Season of Magma, Cycle 330.

1114

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 08/09/2026

i only try reporting accounts anywhere when i think i've found a more blatant case than my last attempt that *surely* would trigger some sort of suspension and just, yeah thanks guys you really are keeping the internet safer smfh

2111

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 08/09/2026

Day 8 of Swordtember! 8 - Oblivion Artemis waxes philosophical on magics and the nature of the cosmos. (prompt list in comments) #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry 330-281.

I have been taking the time between my other duties to resume investigation of our loss of the magics of the old world, in the hope that I may uncover some missing link which would grant some insight regarding this planet's considerable lack of arcane energy.

Initially, consider the following facts: first, our concords lost all access to their magics upon entering this planet's system, and second, our weavers retained their magics but only those in the first degree. From this one can infer that the source of arcane energy in this world is disrupted. For our concords- namely the chordalists and chiralists- the entities from which they received their powers must therefore no longer be present, meaning that Felicity is in some fashion severed from the rest of the cosmos. For our weavers, the magics that relied on their own biological processes remained, but those magics that draw on the physical world, or the bonds that tie the world to itself or to the cosmic veils, were lost. However, those magics which were accessible proved to be dangerously unstable, with even our most advanced users being rendered unable to control the intensity or elemental affinity of their spells.

From this, I see the conditions that bring us to our current predicament. We have regained control of magics up to the second degree, and we can therefore assume that the rules that govern our magics remain in place, only the fundamental building blocks must take a different form. Of these, we have: first, the magic user themselves. Second, the bonds that dictate the physical world, and the entropy that drives it forward. Third, the cosmos, and our attachment to the veils that govern existence and define the foundations from which the laws of existence are derived.

As we have shown that the magic user remains unchanged, we focus on the world and the wider cosmos.
Magic in the second degree would rely on the user's link to their physical environment, and the laws and bonds that govern the world as a whole. As we have mastered this once more, one can conclude that the laws of entropy and physical interactions must also stand, for the most part, unchanged; simply in an unfamiliar configuration.

Magic in the third degree or higher would rely on the user's ability to interact with the world's bonds to the cosmic veils. At this point, we have come to a halt. As such, I surmise that the cosmic veils either do not exist, or have changed one or both of their form and location relative to our material sphere. As our concords have, ostensibly, established connections to new entities which would grant them magics, I presume that at least *some* form of empyrean veil exists here, albeit with our connection to it weakened considerably. If one exists, then therefore must the others, in order for the material sphere to not be influenced in favour of one veil's affinities, even when those affinities are filtered through the cosmic lake.

The empyrean veil is known for its nature to call out to its concords, drawing some power from the devotion they offer, which is presumably the mechanism our chordalists have touched upon again. The other veils do not function in such a way, perhaps explaining their lack of connection to us, but where is the empyrean call coming from if that is truly the case? If the veils are not in parallel with the material sphere, where have they gone?

It is with that thought in mind I find myself this morning, laid alone in the observation post, atop the peak the Order has called home since its founding in the fifty first solar cycle. Watching the first rays of light from the yellow sun creep out from behind the Kirien eclipse, as Kiriel is pulled finally from that strange stasis that each of the eight moons appear to suffer as they reach the apogee of their orbits in turn above the heliocal pole. It strikes me that our planet is so defined by the movements of our moons, and yet we know so little of them. Even our best lenses are only so capable, and we can but observe the faintest hints of their geographic makeup.

We quickly made the connection that the orbits of the moons dictated the seasons here, each eclipse signalling the beginning of the next, but only with these new lenses has the theory arisen that the conditions on the moons themselves dictate those seasonal conditions. Kiriel is perhaps the strongest claim to that hypothesis, its volcanic activity only just visible now as I look at it through the observation post's spyglass, about to ring in the Season of Magma. Might the moons dictate the rest of our laws as well, our own little cosmic system in miniature? There is a moon for each veil, after all. What a comical thought.

As convenient a solution that would be, it ignores the very principles of cosmology, the very functions of the veils that cloak our material sphere, occupying the same space whilst being somewhere else. The four veils that govern the elemental forces of the world, and the four that govern the intangible beyond it. The dead hardly rise from their graves once a year, nor do the empyreans walk among us when the weather takes their fancy. To mention not the absence of the cosmic lake, without which I fear the unfiltered influence of the veils would doom the material sphere to oblivion.

And yet, I am roused from my thoughts by the rasping clamour of a raven; announcing the new dawn from its perch behind me, drawing my gaze southward. The black sun hangs as still as ever in the sky above the anteheliocal pole. A ninth entity for which I have little explanation.

It almost seems closer. Louder.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
1st Light of the Season of Magma, Cycle 330.

272

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 07/09/2026

Day 7 of Swordtember! 7 - Wings I promised there'd be a sword eventually! #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Article 329-0220.

I am presented with an unusual article today, one that marries the handmade artefacts I have expressed appreciation for, given their ease of categorisation, with the natural specimens I am reluctant to receive when they eschew that same categorisation.

A bladed tool, somewhere between a long knife and a cutlass, with a blade length of twenty five inches and a handle wrapped in what appears to be rayskin that extends an additional six. No crossguard to speak of, save for a notch before the blade to prevent a slip of the hand onto the edge. The blade itself has a gentle curve away from its spine, and twists to the counter-clockwise as one holds it in their hand.

One might consider the odd shape a lapse on the part of the smith were this to be forged of a metal alloy. However, this entire blade is fabricated from a single piece of thick, deep green chitin. While I have never set eyes on one myself, I am well informed of the large semi-aquatic insectoid species that makes the shallows of the Boiling Sea its home. The fisheries along the Obsidian Causeway are intimately familiar with them, the catch nets they pull in being irresistible bait to these creatures.

By all accounts, however, the fishers have become quite fond of them. They will throw a portion of their catch to them before dousing the rest in fresh water, which, for some reason, makes the fish immediately unpalatable to the creatures. I am told they make noises which are quite pleasing to the ear, presumably through some form of stridulation, with the word I have heard most frequently in description of them being “cute", if one would forgive the juvenile parlance.

In return, these creatures have become quite comfortable basking in the shallows, their sharp mandibles and large horn a deterrent to other would-be scavengers in the water, providing a mutually beneficial arrangement. In some instances I am told they have been observed taking to the air on surprisingly agile wings, aggressively engaging a seabird that expressed too close an interest in the day's catch. The fishers refer to them as “guardian beetles", which, in the absence of any attempted official taxonomy I am aware of, seems an appropriate name.

The creatures appear to be at ease enough to display vulnerability, having been observed to cycle their exoskeleton in close proximity to the fishers. The creatures walk onto the shore to shed their exuviae before climbing the columns of the causeway. Once there, they spread their four wings, which will dry and thicken along with their horn and outer shell over the course of several hours. This presumably makes use of the light of the black sun to aid some biological process- causing a rapid sclerotization of their soft underlayer of chitin.

I am glad to hear that the fisheries have found a solution which has allowed the continuation of our regulated fishing practices *without* destruction of the surrounding ecosystem. Of all the lessons we could take from the old world, responsible management of the biosphere may be the most prudent. The Progress Initiative's education program was comprehensive enough to ensure all who fled Raonia were well versed in the theory of natural stewardship, but it is heartening to see the knowledge and general ethos has persevered.

Observing this blade then, it would appear that it has been crafted from the elytra of a guardian beetle; taken from the discarded exuviae. The chitin which safeguards the creature's wings provides a shape which is most beneficial to fishers who value the additional curvature when cutting snagged nets, or for matching the bodies of the larger fish they process. The concave side of the blade carries a faint image of the wing itself, presumably due to a reaction between the salt water and the chitin fibres, strongest in proximity to the heat given off by the venous structures that hold the wing together. The effect is rather aesthetically pleasing, not unlike the waves that appear on a metal blade when its alloy is differentially hardened. The edge appears to have held exceptionally despite obvious use.

This is a fascinating article, and I mean to make time during my next stint in the anteheliocal hemisphere to observe these creatures for myself.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
62<sup>nd</sup> Light of the Season of Winds, Cycle 329.

293

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 06/09/2026

prompts here seeing as my entries have ballooned in size 😅

010

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 06/09/2026

Day 6 of Swordtember! 6 - Noir I don't know what happened here honestly, i blacked out and came to in front of 1000 words about blorbos i didn't know i had yet. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Article 329-0140.

Today, I received an unexpected reminder of a friend no longer with us. Irene Gold, close compatriot to my late parents, the most resourceful seeker of information in the Raonian Progress Initiative's quiver.

Another soul lost to us in the years following the landing, before our healers regained their control of magics in the first degree. It was just a cough one day, and before we knew it, we were laying her to rest beside my Mother. So cherished was she by my parents that, when my Father followed them to the Beyond a century later, it was considered that he be buried next to her so that she might be comforted by having both of them by her side. I think, in the end, just being close to one another will have been enough for them. After all, it was the same arrangement I used to find them in on my way to retrieve a cup of water in the early hours of the morning, whenever Irene had returned from one of her investigations. They would be reclined on the couch in the parlour having talked each other to sleep, lit by the fading embers in the hearth; Irene's head on my Mother's shoulder, hers on my Father's shoulder, his arm around them both.

Marcus, Felicity, and Irene. A truer friendship there may never be.

But! Ere I become too deeply entrenched in sentimentality, the matter of cataloguing must be attended to.

Her old cigarette case is placed on the desk in front of me, absolutely unmistakable even after all these years. The black metal inlaid in ornate silver with the sigil of Ryne, the Lost Goddess of Life. She held as much faith in religion as the rest of the Initiative (insofar as a pious soul may never once have darkened its doors), but always talked about it as her good luck charm. As she told it, she purchased it from a jeweller in the old dock town and placed it in the chest pocket of that grey suit she always insisted on wearing, only for it to take a direct hit from a crossbow bolt that same evening. A fair price for sticking her nose where it didn't belong, she'd said. It had never left the pocket over her heart after that, only being briefly removed as she was actively retrieving another cigarette to smoke.

Ironic that her good luck charm is what took her, in the end. It is strange to think how many of the minor ailments we treated might have been fatal were it not for something taken entirely for granted before coming here. Coming to realise that the leaf so many were smoking was causing unseen damage, only when that damage was not being regularly repaired as a secondary effect of the healing magics we were so used to receiving. A lesson worth remembering, that comfort breeds complacency, and complacency breeds death.

$My Father's heart never healed after losing both his love and his best friend in such quick succession, I think. He poured his soul into the communal effort of improving our understanding of magic in this new world, and was one of the first people to successfully tap into whatever empyrean well this planet has, one of the first chordal mages to successfully bring healing magics in the first degree to heel. He had never been a pious man, so dismissive of those chordalists in the old world who devoted themselves to a higher power, but the grief humbled him beyond recognition. The First Temple of Irien will preserve his name and legacy as its founder, as steadfastly as this world preserves those of my Mother as the architect of our new life here. I can only hope to be remembered in a fraction as fond a reverence. Alas, objectivity yet eludes me. The work done to repair the front of the case looks like she may have done it herself, not quite lining up the inlay before tinning over the fracture the bolt left. Curiously, upon opening the case, the inner face did not appear to reflect that repair at all. It seemed there was a thin plate placed there, which I at first assumed had been inserted to conceal the cosmetic damage. However, sliding a thin blade into the seam to pry out the plate, I discovered its actual purpose. Behind the plate, nestled against the dent that she never quite buffed out, was a card of paper.$

I had heard talk about images like this, transitive magic being applied to light to scorch an image into paper so that it might produce a true reflection of a subject in question. Not a drawing, nor portrait, no artistic license taken by a subjective observer. A genuine, true representation of a scene. I had never seen one in person, and as far as I was aware it was a speculative science. The only images I have to remember my parents by to this point have been their portraits, both of which are installed in my office on the upper floor. But there they were, as if I were looking at them through a window.

My Mother and Father, sat on the steps in front of the Initiative's building in the old capital, dressed in their formal academic robes, heads touching. They were both smiling, looking down at Irene who, dressed as always in her grey suit, sat a few steps lower than them between their feet, smiling back up at them. One hand holding one of those awful cigarettes, the other resting in the hands of my Mother, and her head rested against the open palm of my Father. It escaped my notice in my childhood, but there is no mistaking the way they looked at each other.

I am glad they found rest together.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
54ᵗʰ Light of the Season of Shadow, Cycle 329.

4173

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 05/09/2026

Day 5 of Swordtember! 5 - Decay In which Artemis catalogues some very normal, very healthy specimens, and Winter has to split its post across three images. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Articles 326-0001 through 0003.

Following last cycle's unusual Season of Growth, I sent a small research team to the mists in the anteheliocal hemisphere as soon as the Melan eclipse subsided. I was uncomfortable having asked them to cross the Boiling Sea during the Season of Rains, but they insist the new grounding cages we have installed on our ships now mitigate the worst of the dangers.

It seems their expedition was successful, and I now have three several excellent samples of flora from the swamps around the pole to catalogue. The first two samples were taken a few hundred metres past the current outer boundary of the mists, an effort I am assured was completed with our most current safety protocols. It seems we still have yet to solve the issue of the leather suits and respirator harnesses blistering, and venturing any further in will have to wait until such a time as we have developed a material resilient to whatever contaminant is present in the vapours. In the meantime, I have expressly forbidden any attempt to collect any of said vapour for analysis. We cannot risk any contamination of our facilities here.

Article 326-0001 is an intact sapling, comparable to the creeping willow. Thanks to the new lenses we began fabrication of last cycle, my observation equipment now allows a level of scrutiny we have been unable to attain up to this point. Looking at the wood and leaf tissue under my magnifying lens reveals an unusual quality. The plant appears to be almost out of focus, something that I could not remedy with repositioning, nor by adjusting the light level in my laboratory. Looking at other natural specimens I have stored, it does appear to be a genuine phenomenon rather than a fault of the lens.

Upon extremely careful observation, I can only describe the wood as vibrating, as if each individual splinter of the tree is oscillating in place. Observing the leaves also yields a similar result, the fine hairs that cover their surface forming a soft white haze around each leaf. This effect is reproduced again in the root ball, to such a level of intensity that the very ends of the roots twitch, almost as if searching for something. Every living fibre of the tree is quivering with what could only be described as anticipation, as un-scientific as that word feels to write. Recommend tree be placed in moist soil under observation, and kept isolated from any other natural samples.

Moving on, Article 326-0002 is a petrified branch of a softwood tree, something not unlike Althic pine. Subjecting this to the same observation process applied to Article 326-0001, one would expect biologically inert tissue to display no such activity. However, the tissue appears to be shifting in hue. The closest approximation I can give in writing is that small parts appear to be cycling between petrification and decay. The dull gray slowly turns to a sickly mix of green and brown, accompanied by the barely detectable but unmistakeable sweet scent of rotting wood. This lasts only for a period of roughly three seconds, after which that section of wood will remain inert for several minutes. There are scores of small sections like this all over the branch, which appear to be exhibiting a similar cyclic frequency. Will sterilise the surfaces the article has touched and seal in a glass observation vessel before proceeding.

Finally, Article 326-0003 is a flowering aquatic rhizomatous plant, very close analogue to the Raonian common water lily. I'm told this was taken from further north, outside of the current boundary of the mists, but within the area the mists expanded to cover during the last season. Upon close inspection, the plant appears to exhibit the usual visual characteristics of the nymphaea genus, and is at my approximation indistinguishable from specimens found both in the heliocal hemisphere and the old world.

The odour, however, is an entirely different matter. Upon being placed in a container of water, the flower was observed to open its petals. While the scent of decay from Article 326-0002 was faint, and not entirely unpleasant, this is an odour borne only of the grave. I find myself transported back to the last few moons before the Ark's departure, when I was tasked with salvaging supplies from a nearby abandoned settlement. I visited the windmill there first, hoping to find stocks of grain, or even processed flour. Instead, I found only the congealing visceral remnants of the townsfolk, where, judging by the symbols dashed haphazardly in their blood over the rounded interior walls, they had been fed through the millstone by a necromantic cult. I told no one of this at the time, and only put this in writing now to convey my sincerity. The stench is identical.

I am dutybound to preserve all specimens, but I feel myself overcome with an urge to put this one to the flame. I will remove it from the water and instruct that it is to be dried before storage. I know not what to make of these findings. I have my theories as to the effect of the light of the black sun, especially as one approaches the pole, but without appropriate protective equipment I cannot, and will not, in good conscience send any more research expeditions so close again.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
4ᵗʰ Light of the Season of Rains, Cycle 326.

131

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 04/09/2026

Day 4 of Swordtember! 4 - Flock Hey, this is normal, right? Surely not a bad omen or anything. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry 325-298

This cycle's Season of Growth has been mostly a typical one, and yet, decidedly atypical in some regard.

In the positive, agriculture in the heliocal hemisphere has been in a boom since our new methodology for water magics in the lesser degrees were passed down to the community, and, especially in those settlements that have a concord stationed nearby, record crop yields have been reported this cycle. It is no small comfort to regard a visible increase in the number of the younger generations picking up that mantle and devoting themselves to the benefit of their community.

It gladdens me to see the fruits of our labour realised. Would that it not have taken over three centuries to achieve, but in some ways we must be thankful that we made such marked advancement in scientific theory whilst our preferred avenues of progress were denied us. Knowledge heeds not a locked door.

Otherwise, in the less positive, or what would appear to be negative with no other explanation; we have the disturbed behaviour of the fauna in the anteheliocal hemisphere. The Season of Growth has always produced unusual effects there, the expansion of the mists and the unsustainable growth experienced by the flora in the swamps at the pole not the least of them, but this cycle has been more unusual still.

For the past several days, as the sky yet holds the last wisps of warm light from the yellow sun, a great flock of what appears to be carrion birds has flown up over the Glass Cliffs, proceeding to circle above the Black Peaks, not departing until first light. The flock, or perhaps it would be more apt to name it a swarm, moves in a great undulating mass that robs the sky of its sunset so effectively one might expect it to leave a swath of sky forever blackened in its wake.

As they have yet to show any inclination to leave the skies above the mountains and venture any further northward, I believe it will not have alerted the majority of the population; at least no more than a slight darkening in the sky on the southern horizon. However, amongst the smaller communities that make their home along the coast at the foot of the Peaks, and even amongst my learned colleagues here at the Order, it has spread no small measure of unease. The sight of the heavens being so thoroughly overtaken, accompanied by the sound of wings surely exceeding tens of thousands in number, is truly terrible to behold- unlike anything I have ever seen or heard.

Whether this is due to the recent unusual fluctuations we have measured in the intensity of the black sun over the anteheliocal pole, I cannot say. I will be stationing a watch team up on the southernmost peak at tomorrow's light. With any luck, our newly manufactured spyglasses will grant them sufficient vision to determine from where in the south these birds are roosting, and what may be causing this break from their usual flight habits.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
18ᵗʰ Light of the Season of Growth, Cycle 325.

2205

dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 03/09/2026

Day 3 of Swordtember! 3 - Primal Artemis regrets learning about marine biology. #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Article 325-0122.

I must confess, I often find myself at somewhat of a loss where unusual natural specimens are concerned. Once one is accustomed to archival of fabricated items, instantly measurable and often simple to place within a historic or cultural context, being confronted with something that defies neat categorisation can be rather vexing.

The item on the desk before me appears to be an extremely large tooth. Curiously, it appears to closely mirror the fossil records I remember seeing placed, alongside many others, inside a glass display case at the maritime museum in the capital back home. This, however, is decidedly not a fossil. The stained yet intact enamel and the pliable fibres at its root would indicate that this was torn from a living specimen not more than a season ago. The serrated edges along the front edge suggest its owner was a very effective carnivore.

To think such a beast is alive and well today. I am told this was picked up in one of the fisheries in the anteheliocal hemisphere, snagged in a net that had been torn to shreds. I am admittedly far more familiar with the fish in the heliocal hemisphere, those that match the carcharodon of the old world quite closely, and so without the whole specimen to study, I must make some assumptions.

If we apply the ratios we have observed in what we now refer to as sharks in the Sea of Harmony, a tooth of this size with limited interdental spacing (of which I have made a conservative estimate, only having the single tooth to work with) would yield a resultant body length of approximately forty feet. It would be dishonest if I were not to note that upon calculating this number, a small chill ran up my spine. Unless we assume this tooth came from the single largest specimen currently swimming in the ocean, the mind reels at the potential size this species might reach.

By all accounts from the rare sightings made during this organisation's research voyages across the Boiling Sea, these creatures resist capture and taxonomy in equal measure. Larger than the species we have been able to catalogue thus far, and displaying varying degrees of what would appear to be keratinous growth around the head that some have compared to armour. Anecdotal evidence suggests they are much more aggressive than their smaller counterparts in this hemisphere, and have displayed behaviour which carries the mark of a pack hunter. The thought of being set upon by several huge, intelligent, and crudely armoured creatures is not a pleasant one. I may find reasons yet to delay my scheduled trip there for a few cycles.

For now, this specimen will be archived and preserved along our other natural specimens.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
3ʳᵈ Light of the Season of Snow, Cycle 325.

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dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 02/09/2026

Day 2 of Swordtember! 2 - Gamble Artemis is presented with a relic from the old world. (Going to start splitting these up into smaller images so that the alt text doesn't get truncated) #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Article 324-0012.

A piece of the old world arrived on my desk today.

It is evident that the whoever had sold it to the curio shop in Sailskeep had not the faintest idea of its significance. How sad it is to think that those afflicted with such a brief time on this mortal coil could so easily lose touch with the things sacred to their predecessors. To think that I shared the same voyage with one already so thoroughly lost to the passage of time, generations and bonds forgotten - it compels one to interrogate their own bones in fear that they too have decayed to sand.

But here it sits. A ritual coin from the old Church of Laserie, the Lost Goddess of Chance.

I wonder if some of those that made the voyage would have still done so, knowing that they would lose touch with their deities so abruptly upon entering this new system. Was fleeing the war worth that? I would like to think whoever this coin belonged to found peace here.

Alas, I am neglecting the task at hand. The coin is two inches in diameter and about an eighth thick. Appears to be solid gold, intricate detailing along the outer edge. The reverse face bears the Church's seal- an ornate spinning wheel with a pocket watch hanging down from its axle as a pendulum. The obverse face bears the portrait of Laserie herself, a soft faced woman with dimpled cheeks, curly hair, and the faintest hint of a knowing smirk.

There is something compelling in her expression, and for some reason I am reminded of whispers I once heard in a tavern in Latramere, talking about the "Daughters of Laserie". I wonder if she knows she has retained a cult following in her absence. It might explain that smirk of hers.

If memory serves me correctly, the coins were used in offerings to Laserie, with a spin of the coin on the altar determining whether she had heeded the gift or not, landing with her face up being the preferred result. Would that there were more folk from the old world still with us to help keep these cultural intricacies alive.

It disappoints me greatly to say that my colleagues find this to be one of the more tedious parts of the work that we do here. What could be more important than to document and preserve such things that gave comfort and meaning in life?

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis KaumeraHead of Arcane Research for the August Order23ʳᵈ Light of the Season of Tremors, Cycle 324.

P.S. Having placed the coin near my measurement equipment while I wrote this entry, I returned to find some erroneous readings on the more sensitive devices. Frustratingly, I was unable to replicate this phenomena under observation. For a brief moment, I believed the coin might still possess some trace arcane signature from the old world. However, I can detect nothing of the sort, and am not ashamed to admit my disappointment. It is surely a trick of the light, but I could swear that smirk seems ever so slightly wider.

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dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 01/09/2026

hmm the way this site truncates alt text is not ideal, do i just post the image again to fit the stuff it cut off? that'll have to do until i think of a better way of doing it.

*Continued alt text from previous post*

"And to those that may read this journal of record in some time I have long passed from, I would chance that you see the proof of my toils preserved before you. I can pray only to an empty sky that I was successful.

Ex Arcana Scientia.

Artemis Kaumera
Head of Arcane Research for the August Order
7ᵗʰ Light of the Season of Starfall, Cycle 324."

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dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 01/09/2026

Day 1 of Swordtember! 1 - Fanart The first entry in the Journal of Record for the August Order, penned by Artemis Kaumera, Head of Arcane Research. Many thanks to the lovely @regalbones.bsky.social for the prompt list and the encouragement to start writing again✨ #swordtember #rbswordtember

Journal of Record - Entry 324-001

At long, long last, we are making our way. We've done it. Magic in the second degree, here! Might that we no longer be bound by this world, limited to the most simple arcane principles. Our confounded reliance on the solely neutered half of Arcana Scientia could finally be coming to an end.

Inspired by my readings of the detailed records of the most esteemed and learned scholars of my Mother's institute, I feel compelled now, if not dutybound, to put quill to parchment and establish my own journal of record. That more work was not preserved in the Ark's archive fills me with regret, and shames me to think that I did not endeavour to further that effort myself, a child though I was.

With no small fear that my efforts may be seen merely to ape those of my forebears, my superiors for the time being in the fields of academic and arcane excellence, I must yet persist. Much as I strove to honour my Mother by founding this organisation, I will likewise do my utmost to honour those who worked under her in continuing their great traditions of written works.

I do so hope that she can see the progress I have made, from whatever form she has taken in the Beyond. Gods, for her to have fallen ill so soon after our arrival. Cursed heavens that abandoned their concords and twisted and tore our magic away from us. Cursed fate in being stranded here, surrounded by those who would taint her name in such cloying mockery, to name this place Felicity!

It is my hope that these centuries succeeding her might, at the least, give me the opportunity to live up to her achievements. I will break this planet's laws to my will as she did our own. Perhaps it will allow me some small presence in the annals of scientific progress, so that I might one day meet her again and hold my head aloft.

And to those that may read this journal of record in some time I have long passed from, I would chance that you see the proof of my toils preserved before you. I can pray…

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dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 28/08/2026

girl with sooo many particles orbiting it

screenshot from Warframe of Nova, a semi-robotic doll looking thing decorated in white, blue and gold, with several traces of blue light circling her. she's standing in an ostentatious laboratory lined with black and gold and lit by several bright white lights.

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dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 01/08/2026

love how being on diy means every health appointment where they ask me if i "know who my primary care provider is" i have to hit em with the

screenshot from star wars of obi wan kenobi standing in the desert pointing to his own chest saying "Well, of course I know him. He's me."

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dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 14/06/2026

played sledding game with @phobia.bsky.social and it took a herculean effort to not wake the rest of the house up with how hard i was laughing at looking up just as she sailed clean off the hill

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dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 01/06/2026

meeting about ai first thing on a monday morning

foreground picture of a cat captioned "i hope i don't get pissed off" in front of a background picture of an industrial factory captioned "pissing me off factory"

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dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 31/05/2026

back on my bullshit i fear

Screenshot of a music player playing Vampire Heart by HIM. The album artwork depicts a dark multi-storey building rising from a stormy ocean. An image of an inverted five pointed star with the upper two points rounded off to make a heart shape is projected on the building.

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dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 21/05/2026

"antis dni" - Mary Shelley, 1818

excerpt from the foreword of Frankenstein reading:

"The opinions which naturally spring from the character and situation of the hero are by no means to be conceived as existing always in my own conviction; nor is any inference justly to be drawn from the following pages as prejudicing any philosophical doctrine of whatever kind."

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dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 19/05/2026

Feel conflicted about that Saryn pick but idk i just never really vibe with her when i play her

Grid list showing pictures of different frames from warframe reading:

First frame - Mag
First prime - Wisp
Main - Xaku
Second Main - Wisp
The best weapon frame - Oraxia
The best caster frame - Xaku
The most underrated- Inaros
The most overrated - Saryn
Critically needs rework - Banshee
Wish they were better - Zephyr
The best kit - Garuda
The most fun frame - Follie
The best design - Oraxia
The best fashion - Gyre
Favourite protoframe - Wisp

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dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 16/05/2026

did my makeup properly for once 🖤💙

selfie of a white girl with grey and blue hair and spikey eyeliner wearing a black cloak

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dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 12/05/2026

there's something viscerally unpleasant about mythbusters getting modern youtube thumbnail treatment. why did you give adam savage youtuber face. stop that

thumbnail from youtube of a video titled "What really brought down the hindenburg?" showing a picture of an elongated cylindrical model blimp catching on fire, behind a superimposed image of Adam Savage (a redheaded white man with a goatee beard wearing sunglasses) pulling a shocked expression in classic modern youtuber fashion

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dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 28/04/2026

Winter milf arc (dyed her hair grey by accident)

selfie of a brown eyed girl with grey hair and blue highlights

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dollpaws ❆⚢ @snowfall.gay · 26/04/2026

did you stand in the big flashing circle on the floor *again*?

screenshot of a portrait from ffxiv showing a miqo'te (catgirl) woman with gray hair holding out a magical astrologian's weapon as she looks down with a disappointed expression at the camera

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