Unique Colors Contest
Contest Details
Our next contest! Unique colors. What do we mean by unique colors? A great example comes from the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Hooloovoo, the super-intelligent shade of blue. Or, as we saw in a recent flower entry…blorple. We’re looking to see what sort of unique colors that we can come up with for Hollow.
You will be allowed 3 entries max and will earn 1,500 gold per entry. Winners will get 10,000 gold for winning entries. And of course, we will make a wiki page so that we can add it into our lore mix. Some of the details we are looking for include where the color comes from/how the color is made.
Deadline
Hmails must be submitted to Meri, Kasyr and Valrae by Friday at midnight, 03/31/2023.
Winners
See The Artist's Palette for a list of the winners.
Blaire
An excerpt from Blaire's notebook:
Reflective Colors (A.k.a lying to your eyes and heart)
This one's “Fools Blue” or as I call it; Flurple (No, Master lanlan Burple is not a better name.) and it's a little hard to explain.
Oh who am I kidding, it's hard to explain while sounding like a frumpy old wizard with more beard than charisma. I can explain this very easily!
You know that friend you had in your teens who wasn't just a social chameleon but actually just changed? Everyone adjusts their behaviour and values depending on who you're with, maybe you don't emphasize the whole necromancy thing when you're around someone who grieves or you dress a little more traditional around a bunch of prudes (I do the opposite personally. Low. Cut). But Cynthia just becomes a completely different person. There's nothing inside her, really, she just absorbs undertones and dogwhistles and drunkenly slurrs catchphrases and supportive in-the-know phrases.
Cynthia is fake as all seven hells.
Cynthia is Fools Blue. She's flurple.
Colors generally mean something. We're drawn to colors that reflect us and nature often displays colors that tell you about it's.. uh... nature. Reflective colors aren't like that. They reflect you instead. They're a shopkeep that'll love beer when a dwarf walks in and hate elves when a drow does.
Flurple, that stank wench, is a spectrum from blue to purple to black. And if you've ever had an argument about whether something is blue or not, you know exactly what I'm talking about suddenly. Turns out you and your friend are different people. Who knew. Normally what you see might be a commentary on you on a deeper level but... were you expecting something profound from Cynthia? Sorry. It's largely just about your mental state at current and a few cosmic factors. Which is why that dress you swore was black yesterday is blue today.
Flurple can't even stay consistent. Teenagers.
Factors are:
Focus, time and presence for Blue.
Distraction, introspection and space for Purple.
And emotion, desires and bodily states for Black.
Yeah it'll change when you're hungry. Just to be extra weird.
Fortunately for us Fools Blue and other reflective colors aren't actually extradimensional. They're safe, magically speaking, if you can survive dissagreeing on what color something is with your BFF and all that. It's not going to lead you down a path of extrasensory perception outside of the liminal field of your spectrum of reality.
It's just fake.
P.S: Hello future B. I wrote this page using Fools Blue, for the record. What color is the text? You hungry? Thought it might be a fun experimental thing but really, it's just kind of annoying. Sorry not sorry. Don't do that when you translate this into an actual paper for the guild.
Callamyyre
Memoriaura
Envision a shade that transcends definition, defying fixed hues and instead fluctuates with each beholder. This exquisite magnificence resonates deep within the viewer's soul, inspiring an instant sense of "home" unique to each person. Initially a delicate veil of lustrous pearl, akin to the shimmering of a newly formed dewdrop, it dynamically transforms into a tapestry of light and color, weaving in the chromatic palette of the observer's memories and experiences, creating a breathtaking and intimate masterpiece.
To some, a warm aureate radiance reminiscent of the safety and comfort of childhood homes, the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread. To others, the cool aquamarine hues of the ocean, carrying the briny tang and rhythmic tumult of waves on the shore. Regardless of the onlooker, this "color" always imparts a tender embrace, evoking the people and places that make us feel cherished and protected. It speaks to the very essence of our being, invoking memories of our origins and all we hold dear.
As this iridescent spectrum shimmers and glows, it instills a serene aura, drawing us closer to ourselves and to the world that surrounds us. It reminds us of the infinite beauty and intricacy of the cosmos and the boundless opportunities that await us in our "home."
To awaken one's ability to perceive this color in the world, one must first embark on a journey to the depths of the subconscious, where memories and emotions reside. Only by merging the energies of the mind and the heart can one hope to capture the essence of this quintessential chroma. But for those who succeed, the Memoriaura will forever be imprinted in their souls.
Kang
The Grelken Spectrum
While not a single color, but an entirely different spectrum, it deserves mention. This spectrum runs perpendicular to green on the visible spectrum. It appears within the bounds of a town many leagues south of Gualon, just past the Bogs of Triga. At first it was believed to be a town of monochromatic anomalies. It is actually an alternate spectrum, rather than a curious collection of shades of green. It runs from rokan, through yngrn, all the way to some rather unpleasant v'gkkyn hues. I suppose the best way to describe the spectrum is very green, but not really. Legend tells of a bad decision by a chromatic vampire attacking a pixie, causing the photoparambulation which altered the town's visible spectrum. Theoretically, other spectrums running parallel could be discovered should one stab another chromatic vampire through the heart with a stake made from the collarbone of still-living druid, but that is a matter of speculation and has not been verified for various reasons.
Ingnysin
A mythically rare hue, slightly past the infrared, far away from the commonly visible spectrum. It gives off an curiously addictive warmth and sense of well-being, and is found when two beings sharing the same soul enter into close proximity. Make no mistake, this shared soul does not refer to the transient emotions of love or affection. It is a literal star-crossed quantum entanglement on the ætheric level. As mentioned, the color causes addiction of a curious sort. Once the color disperses, due to fluctuations in light due to the natural course of the day/night cycles, those who have been in contact with the color will feel an overwhelming sense of fear and cold, as if their sense of self is recovering from hypothermia. No physical damage occurs, but those affected will never feel warm again other than under the effects of this hue. Sidenote, despite not being a visible hue, it can sometimes be detected nonetheless by those without augmented vision. Many have noticed the strong smell of sugared blueberries when they draw near. There currently is no explanation for the olfactory phenomenon, but it is worth noting.
Kanna
Moonclipse
There has been debate about whether a color that cannot be replicated using the known colors of the spectrum visible to the naked eye has any function in the world, or can even be called a color versus an optical illusion. Bards will tell you that this argument by purists is about as valuable as an argument for pixies not having wings because it is unfair to humans who have no wings. After all, can a perfect theatrical performance not be replicated by ordinary people? Can the way a musician tugs at your heartstrings with their ability not be replicated by a beginner immediately? The same concept applies to the concept of the color of a moonclipse.
This color (or parlor trick, depending on who you are speaking to) is a phenomenon that only a skilled musician with bardic magic can replicate with the proper components, none of which are easy or cheap to come by. The specifics of how this blend and the exact ratios required are a mystery, as it has been passed down through legend and word of mouth as far back as even the elder races are concerned, and speculate that these instructions were provided straight from the lips of Hind.
The base paint is made by crushing opal and natural nacre into a fine powder, and blending it with bottled tears of a black dragon and the nectar of a flower grown by a dryad. The sweetness of the nectar counteracts the acidity of the tears enough to allow this blend to dissolve the crushed ingredients without causing their properties to vanish completely. This results in a color that, when viewed with the naked eye, appears to be a copper shade with iridescence mixed throughout. While beautiful in and of itself, this is not the color of the moonclipse, though, it is only the beginning.
The cacophony of magic of a dryad and a black dragon combined produces then has to be tamed by a bard with musical affinity. The paint mixture must be applied and quelled before the rise of the next morning sun. Only with the right song can the beauty of this color be witnessed. It has been said that this is because the sonic vibrations of the song and the heart of its listeners must harmonize in order to see the true ethereal glow of this color said to be a glimpse of true bardic magic. Some who have seen it describe it as the iridescence or otherworldly color that can only be seen in the rare astronomical event when Ahr’Nuk eclipses Vaalane while Valaane eclipses the setting sun.
Because the effect of the harmonization will remain as long as the listener remembers the song, the most powerful bards have used the ability to see this color as a way of secretly communicating amongst their kind when separated for war or other turmoil that prevents them from communicating in other ways. It is also rumored in legend that arrows painted of the moonclipse will lead the way to artifacts Daedria herself was never able to gaze upon…
Khitti
Doluigri (pronounced dole-you-gree)
Translation: Mourning Grey A somber, muted color, doluigri is a blend of charcoal grey and brown. Made from sorrowbloom blighted soil (represents grief) and snowdrops (represents hope), the two are crushed in a mortar and pestle and mixed with the proper reagents to make ink, watercolors, or paints. The word doluigri is Vhysian, a dialect of Elvish, and the apothecary in Elimdor specializes in making the mediums used by those that suffered traumatic events resulting in bereavement. Typically used in art as therapy to help the grieving person(s) process their trauma, it may also be used to write letters in thanks, to those that provided aid during the time of mourning.
Umbra Spectra (pronounced um-brah speck-trah)
Translation: Shadow Spectrum Coined by the Mistress of Shadows herself, using the ancient Vailkrinian tongue, the term “umbra spectra” describes the colors the Black Tides takes on for each individual wielder, or in some cases, a complete lack thereof. Those with a direct connection to the Shadow Plane typically wield the Black Tides in much more vivid colors, usually in cool hues (blues, greens, and purples), though in rare instances they may also manifest in darker shades of red as well. For everyone else whose link to shadow magic is by way of things like Vailkrin’s latent magic and the Xalious tree, their magic manifests in much more muted shades, compared to their pure counterparts.
Names for each color in the spectrum:
- Umbra Spectra Caeruleus - Blue
- Umbra Spectra Purpurae - Purple
- Umbra Spectra Viridi - Green
- Umbra Spectra Rubeus - Red
- Umbra Spectra Aterrimus - Black
- Umbra Spectra Niveus - White
- Umbra Spectra Cinereus - Grey
Lueur Morte (pronounced lee-urr more-te)
Translation: Dead Glow Lueur Morte is a color only perceived by those that are able to see and interact with incorporeal spirits, like the Umbrawisps from the Shadow Plane, a community of spirit herders, or any of the other various types of necromancers, witches, or other folk born with the ability. The base of the color is a shimmery, iridescent silver--this is the pure soul of the ghost. If said spirit is somehow contaminated or twisted, the shimmer disappears, leaving it as a dull, mottled grey. Blended into this base is an outer glow, which stems from the ectoplasm that clings to the spirit. Typically, this is a pale green, like that of Valaane’s glow, and associated with newly formed spirits right after death. However, over time (ranging anywhere from months to years), the spirit can become malevolent and its whitish-green glow shifts to red, matching Arh’Nuk’s light. Both the base and the outer glow of lueur morte are also dependent on things like how the spirit was in the world of the living: Were they happy? Depressed? Was it a fulfilling life or one filled with constant woe? It also depends on the manner in which they died: Did they die peacefully and from natural causes? Was it an accident or a murder? Did they have unfinished business? And what sort of unfinished business was it? Regardless of what form the color takes, it is a needed aid for those that work with spirits, to know what they're dealing with.
Lanlan
Camanaicht
A burning field of diamonds, the sun's secret shades. Rustbloom is the color of finally letting go, the hue of warm goodbyes. Nothing left unsaid. Mithril, once thought to be immune to the effects of corrosion and blemish, is hypothesized by some to have mastered it.
On the fossilized fields of battle, shimmering untarnished, unseen, under a sediment of the ages, mithril can occasionally rust. Nothing is permanent, not even myth. It crumbles in mesmerizing fractals that spiral up and away from the lost souls who's armor became their funeral shroud, until it again tastes the air and the light of day. Then it shines once more, one final time in the light of Kavash. The metal of myth, oxidized into a dusty crystal, sublimes into a million brilliant sunsets, just dim enough to be witnessed by a mortals eye, just brief enough to be longed for, lingering just long enough to be remembered.
Dormiveglia (aka Blorple)
Truth is quartz-crystal. Clear as day, as fresh water from a sacred spring. Lie can be anything it wants, dressing itself in new ways each time it shows itself. It's as white as the snow that falls only on the farm reserved for most beloved pets to play, gone too soon. It's as black as the heart of a killer who claims innocence with the steadiness of a beating drum and as red as the severed hand of a thief caught in the act. Its guise is infinite. But if you would strip bare those adornments to reveal the naked truth shrouded underneath, you could see the wispy plasma of the illusion.
When the third eye is finally opened wide, through practice or even herbology, one can see the ghostly fire, the cloak of lies hiding candor. It flickers like lavender flame without heat nor shadow. It flows chartreuse without substance through space while taking none, and its a jaunty yellow veil that fails to hide anything once its been lifted. Impossibly, its all of these. A color that's been described as blorple, strictly as an analogy, blending colors that don't mix to create this.
It's the color you see while closing your eyes so tight while staring into the moon's glow, so tight that you can just make it out, only to forget what it looks like when the eyes are open again, or when you fall once again back under the trickster's spell.
Cthonarch
If there was a way to illuminate the abyss without diminishing its majesty with something so callous and profane as a lightsource, you could see a glimpse of this shade of purple. Darker than black, shadows reflect from it, and seem pale. Once it existed only in dreams, or in a trick of the eyes, it's never truly been seen until recently.
This is the abyss given sight and a mirror. When it stared infinitely back into itself, it grew infinitely darker, and when it could eclipse itself no more, this is what it became.
Quintessa
Rū
Its name means Red Desire, a shade of red so red that it ought not ever survive the death of the body. The color of hunger, lust, birth, and passion. It burns hot on the eyes of those who look at it and it is rumored that only those loyal to Delisha can do so long before suffering blindness. Indeed, the depraved rituals involved in summoning such a color would likely only be known to some of the more fervent members of Delisha’s Cult, and though many methods exist all of them require one specific thing in common; Something vital. It does not matter what it is but it must be vital to the one performing the ritual, and many do not survive the process. Some have even cut out their own still beating hearts chasing this Red Desire, searching for pleasures intense enough to corrupt the laws of the physical world. With something vital in your hands you must drape a blood-stained cowl over your head as you anoint the object in amaranthine nectar, which must be gifted freely by a flowerkeeper. Then, with something vital anointed, it must be destroyed by the end of the hour by the summoner’s bare hands. It will be a struggle- it has to be for the ritual to work. Desperation and obsession have to be poured into the act before the color will appear. After the ritual is complete and the vital pigment created, it is said that gazing upon it bestows pleasure and satisfaction- but the color cannot sustain you. Gaze too long and you will lose yourself to it, withering away as it takes up more and more priority in your mind. Once this happens and it claims a life, the pigment will fade, transforming it into an ordinary color that bestows nothing but the temptation to begin the chase anew.
Grimör
The direct translation and origin of this word has been lost to time, but many seem to agree that the word means many things; Bleak, empty, secret, hopelessness, but most of all it describes a color. The precise color of the hours when one cannot sleep, when the chill of winter creeps like death, of rats in the cradle, and a widow’s moanful cry. This color has been described as the gray that comes before the dawn, but that is only part of its composition. Indeed, the essence of the moment before dawn is needed to make this color, trapped in an emulsion called greydawn oil. Though the rituals known to collect such an ingredient remain closely guarded secrets, if one can acquire this all that they need is a consensual kiss from a crow and a forelock stolen from a dead human. With these three ingredients one can summon this color, but looking upon it too long is to flirt with insanity. The indescribable emptiness one sees in these gray wastes will not soon go away. It haunts those who gaze upon it, inflicting a sleeplessness and a restlessness that can last for days. This restlessness soon gives way to despair and this despair is what always makes sure that the Secrets of the Grey never spread too far.