HELOVIA || The Way to the Sun
not going back [open] - Printable Version

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not going back [open] - warboy - 04-03-2017

WAR BOY

i went down like a rag doll rat of a child

The forest was still, quiet and heavy with nary a bird or breeze to be heard. A morning fog rolled through the thick, dew laden underbrush, crisp and clean. Long shadows were cast through the canopy as the sun began to rise in a pink sky, and for a moment everything was pristine.

Of course nothing good lasts.

A faint echo of snapping wood and kicked up ground grew in a crescendo through the woods, and through the fog a phantom appeared. Silvery and pale faced the creature clumsily sprung through a wall of brambles and ferns. The stallion fumbled and faltered on the soft ground from the sudden impact, nearly brought to his knees as he slid with debris trailing him. Damn this fog. What was once a pleasant romp turned into a nightmare of biting thorns and slapping branches when he lunged head first into the fog. The boy thought it no different than a sand storm, but what he forgot was that there was nothing to run into in a desert.

The boy snorted as he regained his footing, slowing down to a brisk trot as he wised up to his situation. It always took him awhile to catch on, thickheaded as he was told. He paid no mind though, and continued on his way. He had heard of this land from an old crone. Any who crossed into its borders were given a fresh start on life, and it was what he needed. Looking around he could finally take in the sights.

The world seemed so alien to the boy who was used to the shifting dunes of the desert. Everything seemed too stable, so rooted to the earth where it stood that it made him feel strange. He came from a world of movement, never settling in one place and always on the move. He jumped from one band to the next, but never stayed for long. As he aimlessly wandered through the forest the boy thought to himself, would he find a home in this new land?

OOC;; crappy post is crappy, I always suck at opening posts.




RE: not going back [open] - Pippigrin - 04-03-2017

PIPPIGRIN
FALLEN OUT OF BED FROM A LONG & WEARY DREAM

The threshold! It was one of the most exciting places in helovia besides his own mighty home of the Throat, at least in Pip's opinion it was. Wing's spread far and wide across the current, the guardian craned his head downwards in an attempt to peak past the canopy in search of any wanderers... or even that nasty old bear who had stolen his saucepan a number of weeks prior.
Upon his last visit to the threshold, Pippin had encountered a rather unlikely bunch of fellows; a great big brute with a girl's name, a bearded warlock, a herd-brother, and then that horrible, pretty, what's-her-face from the Edge. No one like's the Edge. No one likes what's-her-face. (Or so Pip told himself.)
Soon his steely eyes had trained upon a lone soldier, scarred and beaten, tripping upon some thorns!

Donned in his modified leg guard, one that was strapped to his right leg and proudly harnessing his slingshot, Pippigrin aimed for a gap through the trees and began to descend. By angling his wings with all the precision a hobbit could muster, the halfling could only hope that he wouldn't cruise right into an awaiting fir or oak, so perhaps it was simply a combination of luck and precision that he made it to the forest floor in one piece.

Looking up from his landing amongst the trees, Pippigrin found himself much further away from the gentleman than he had hoped; perhaps even five-hundred feet away. Damn. At least his presence would still remain a suprise.
Launching off os hi hocks, the halfling pressed into a gallop (though, still would assume the normal speed of most horses in a fast canter), leaping over the logs that he could and stopping to tip toe around those he could not (or rather, the ones he thought he could not).
In no time at all the pale stag was in his sights once again.
Kneeling in the tall grasses near-by, Pippin loaded his trusty slingshot with a clup of soft mud collected from under a shrubbery. Pulling back upon it's lengthy, stretchy trigger, Pip aimed the instrument on his knee for the stranger's shoulder and neck area, the giggles beginning to erupt within his stomach already.
PING!
Watching the mud fly from the slingshot gave the halfling all the more reason to giggle, and still he didnt even know if he had got the man on-target.
"Got ya!" Pip cooed, stepping from behind the bushes and flaring his wings.  "My name's Pip!"


HI THERE! Welcome to Helovia, so excited to meet you! I'm Neve, this is my character Pippin!
If you're interested in having Boy join the Dragon's Throat, here's some info about our herd land!
Land Guide - Dragon's Throat - This will explain all the flora and fauna found on the island! We have some mythical plants and creatures that you can learn a bit about in this short guide too!
Dragon's Throat Information - This one has a small mindmap of the tiers and ranks, plus a list of the herd's companions. Below that you'll find a list of rules, then all of the ranks explained in detail, and then below that you can find history of the DT as well as information about the culture of the Throat! Ps. you absolutely do not have to read all of this but it's a helpful document to refer to when you have questions!
And finally;
New Player Tables - This is a thread i set up where new players can request a table! You don't look like you need any help with coding, your table is beautiful! but if you'd like just hmu on that post and I can fix you up with another one if you'd like one!
Also something to note; your character is entitled to one small joining item, so think of something cool you can add to his accessories! (note; something small means it should be able to fit in the palm of your hand. eg. a nose ring, an anklet, or even a really small knife - that's what Pippin got!)
If you think of any questions hit me up!




RE: not going back [open] - Weaver - 04-04-2017

ask no questions

He looks like Beloved. That’s the first thing she thinks when she sees the pale boy come jumping and skidding through the Threshold. How does she know this, or see it? Because she’s loitering in the trees today, looking for someone interesting to talk to. She’s taken to spend almost as much time in raven form as she does in horse form. It suits her, this power to be either species. Raven is with her, as he always is, and they move from tree to tree trying to see who might be around.

It’s much easier to spy as a raven. No one pays any mind to the birds in the trees. They are just birds, after all. But it makes it easier for her to watch those that come. Some just don’t seem like the right fit, and maybe her guesses on that are wrong, but she doesn’t tend to approach those. But this boy is interesting. Pale like Beloved, eye marked like Beloved, body of a warrior, and some thing that just seems feisty and strong about him.

The boy trots off, and then she comes down from her perch in the trees, shifting back to a horse before setting off in the misty forest after him. Raven comes to perch on her back, enjoying the ride. She’s just in time to see some mud come flinging its way in the general direction of the pale stallion, though through the mist, she can’t really tell if it’s going to hit him or not.

“Hell of a way to invite someone to your home,” she says toward the bushes where the tiny little stallion is, though she says it plenty loud enough for the pale stallion to hear too. “I’m Weaver,” she offers for the pale stallion’s benefit, not caring super much about the prankster in the bushes. “From the Aurora Basin. You new around here?”

- weaver -

and you'll be told no lies

Image | Quote by Charles Dickens


@WarBoy


RE: not going back [open] - warboy - 04-05-2017

WAR BOY

i went down like a rag doll rat of a child

He wasn’t expecting to meet anyone here in this forest of fog, especially a visitor from the sky. A sudden and thunderous crash from a few meters away drew his attention. His steel eyes tried to fix on a figure, but he could see nothing but trees and bushes. When the ball of mud came flying towards him it was too late, and he was struck on the side of the face by the sludge. Instincts kicked in and the boy went on the defensive, ears flat and looking towards where the mud was flung from.

Now the boy couldn’t tell little Pip had wings with all the fog and mud, all he saw was a tall and rather imposing shadow in the mist. The voice didn’t seem to match the figure, but he could care less. With ears pinned back he charged towards the body in the mist, ready to engage. His opponent had struck the first blow, and now he needed to retaliate! But when he got close enough the boy saw his opponents’ stature shrink dramatically, and he skidded to a halt. Loose soil and foliage was flung about as his hooves dug into the earth. Now he rested his haunches on the forest floor, a dumbstruck look on his muddied face. It took him awhile to process the sudden change before he blurted out a response.

“…You have wings!” He shouted, never one for subtly.

The only horses he had ever seen had their feet firmly planted to the ground. Now here was a winged horse, the smallest one he had seen at that. It was an odd sight to say the least. Before he could utter another word another horse came upon them, seemingly out of nowhere. Where were they all coming from!

The boy turned to face this new horse, minding to keep the small bugger in his sights as well. This one seemed to know the mud slinger called Pip. The black and white horse with the raven asked if he was knew, as if his expression to all this didn’t explain it enough. “Yeah I’m new ‘round here. Just came in from the Dunelands…You two in cahoots with each other?” He questioned with narrowed eyes. While the two seemed calm enough, the boy could not make hide nor hair of this situation.

OOC;; yay replies : ) thanks for the welcome! sorry this took so long tuesdays and wednesdays are like my busiest days.




RE: not going back [open] - Pippigrin - 04-06-2017

[quote='Pippigrin' pid='202705' dateline='1491271570']

PIPPIGRIN
FALLEN OUT OF BED FROM A LONG & WEARY DREAM

The menace from the treeline gave a great hoot, his eyes finding their gaze upon his victim's mud-speared face. A successful, smearing hit! Though it was when that victim turned upon his haunches, hooves demanding the ground to his aid as he boomed toward him, that Pippins ears flopped downwards in worry. This gentleman surely did not think he meant to hurt him did he? It was jsut a bit of mud!
With the great, scarred beast screeching to a halt before him, loose soil annd moss flew onto the hobbit's own face and soon he had a brilliant mask of mud to match. 'You have wings!?' the blokey stag had observed, though by now Pippigrin was already blabbering out any kind of consolation he could think of for dirtying the much-taller opponent's hide "I-I-I can wash it off your face if you like!"
Though soon upon registering the gentleman's remark, the halfling's worried frown began to twist into a smile. "yes!" He spoke in reply to the pale one's observations "do you like them?" Pippin asked, tilting his head to look toward one of his great, fan-like wings, stretching it out to give their admirer a closer look.

"Do you still need me to wipe that off your face?" the mud-spattered menace asked, chewing his bottom lip with a strange kind of nervousness; he did not want the stag to say no, though he didn't want him to say yes either. Not intent on waiting for a reply, the halfling strode out from his place in the bushes and into the glade, making his stature and presence known. It was only a number of seconds that passed before another made themselves know.
'hell of a way to invite someone to your home'

The witchy woman seemed to scold him, or patronise him - either way, she triggered the wariest of gazes to shoot from the hobbit's eyes. "I... wasn't?" The hobbit muttered. He couldn't recall asking the man to his nest? That would be strange, he wouldn't fit. Now that she mentioned it though, this stark white stag might enjoy the company of other warriors. With the witchy woman's introduction made known, a Mrs. Weaver from the Basin, Pippin added his own on.
"And I'm Pippigrin Littlefoot, Guardian of the mighty Dragon's Throat!" he declared, chest puffing with pride "We are a land of only the mightiest warriors, and you sir look like you know how to pack a punch!"

The gnetleman spoke in reply to the woman first, though his words were somewhat untranslatable. what was this strange language? Dunelands? Cahoots? Pippigrin remained silent and observed, eyes blinking like a cautious bird.


No worries at all! ☀︎ Would you like to be tagged?
@Warboy




RE: not going back [open] - Weaver - 04-07-2017

ask no questions

She doesn’t know Pip, actually. She just has a habit of walking around like she owns the place, giving an air of confidence that she has no business actually having. But if you act like you own the place, people tend to think you do, and that almost always works out in your favor. If you act confident, you feel confident, and truthfully, she is always confident. It’s hard not to be when you literally can’t die. Even when she’s shitting bricks in a fight and doubting her ability to win (she’s actually pretty great at losing) she can at least make her opponents think that she’s totally a-okay and she’s got it all under control.

The little pipsqueak answers her a dumb way, and she can’t help but roll her eyes slightly. “Then what are you doing here? That’s generally what everyone is doing in the Threshold. Either offering a home or looking for one. And if you are looking for one, then that’s a terrible way to get invited.” She can be nice, really, but generally she has little tolerance for ridiculousness that isn’t fun. And this doesn’t seem fun. Fun is blood, sex or drugs. Or all three.

Then he introduces himself as part of the Dragon’s Throat, and she can’t really see a way in which he’s not trying to recruit right now and she’d really just like to say I told you so. But she keeps her mouth shut, because, yes, she can be nice. Or nice-ish. When it suits her. “No, we are definitely not in cahoots. This just happens to be Helovia’s Threshold, were new horses end up when they get here. Usually you get attacked less literally by recruiters from herds.” She rolls her shoulders in something of a shrug, biting her tongue on many of the sassy remarks that come to mind, keeping her focus on the pale stallion instead.

Raven, for his part, keeps his beady black eyes on the little stallion, wary of more possibly mud bombs and waiting to alert Weaver should they need to stop another attack. Raven does not like to get dirty, because he does not like being forced into taking a bath. The hot springs in the Basin were easily one of his least favorite places, and he hated just how much Weaver enjoyed them. “Weaver, from the Aurora Basin in the north. We have some pretty solid warriors too, if that’s your thing, but there’s plenty of other stuff to do too.”

- weaver -

and you'll be told no lies

Image | Quote by Charles Dickens


@Warboy