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[DROP] Death Rattle [DARK/WIND DROP]
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06-08-2016, 12:27 PM
06-08-2016, 05:26 PM
kid
An eerie call summons me from the shadows that I have so hastily gathered around myself, the gloom of early onset depression lingering in wisps along my skin as I move quietly to the origin of my summons. It's nowhere near the territory I linger, a hidden corner where I begin to lose track of time— feeling like I've spent days trekking through the ever so tight quarters beneath the thick canopy of trees. Where had the sun been when I left? Where was it now? Curious bubblegum eyes are drawn up, squinting at the shreds of light filtered through layers of green leaves and pine. There's so little of it, I can't tell whether it's noon or later in the evening— maybe it's already morning and I've simply been wandering towards my demise for all these hours (I wonder if Mother is worried? Probably not). Blasts of cold winds and various (and particularly timed) intervals give me reason to believe perhaps there is reason for me to have wandered so deep into the hopeless forest, a harmony of bones encouraging me ever closer. I find it finally, eyes widening at the tree that looms before me, oblivious to its existence until now (seriously, where had it come from?). Bones hang like decoration from the branches, rattling and swaying as the frigid breeze blows past again. Something ominous and macabre enters, chills traveling down my spine as I come to face a chaotic mongrel with dark hide and red eyes. It's rooted to a disgustingly unkempt (is it rotting?) equine body, donning an antlered skull and scarred torso that lacks extremities. It speaks through clattering teeth and rickety joints, eyes pulsating gently as it asks a simple question. Would you like to play a game? In a burst of confidence my lips open, smirk stretching the corners of my mouth as I respond (almost eagerly) to the question at hand. "I'm always up for a good game." What sort of game it is, we'll wait and see. "Talk." wishlist, seeking: darkxwater | his blood causes a heightened sex drive to those who come in contact with it, the potency depends on how much they come in contact with » effects last only 1 post in battle or 3 posts in a normal thread the boy king
06-08-2016, 07:47 PM
06-08-2016, 08:27 PM
tiamat
Cloven hooves step daintily between the trees, mindful of the gnarled roots and messy underbrush, careful not to scuff the dry, black bark. Her ears stand erect on her crown, twisting occasionally in search of a sound—anything other than her own hoof beats and soft breaths—though the Dark Forest continues in its heavy silence. Perhaps surprisingly so, this shadowy atmosphere does not frighten the ocean mare. Maybe her heart is too sheltered to imagine the monsters that might lurk in a darkness such as this, but being surrounded by the presence of nature (her family) gives her a (foolish?) sense of security, of togetherness. Sapphire nostrils curl as she releases a slow exhale, pausing in her step to press her velvet muzzle against the rough trunk of a tree. Somehow, she sees beauty in this. In the way the shadows dance, in the way the scarce few shafts of light fall, in the way that the forest seems to go on forever—ever twisting, winding, and changing. Drawing away, she saunters forward again, the long hair of her lion tail brushing against the thicket of leaves and moss. Nature falls quietly behind her, settling back into shadowy cocoons and hiding any evidence of her path. From around the mare’s neck, the glowing charm of her necklace illuminates her features, highlighting the delicate lines in a soft halo of green. Absentmindedly, her neck arches to occasionally brush the small light with her muzzle. Gifted to her from that kind, reverent turtle, Tiamat calls upon the charm for good thoughts and surety, allowing it to remind her that there is always kindness in the world. There is always hope, always goodness— —always goodness— —even in the face of death. Stumbling suddenly upon the gnarled, bone-bleached oak tree, the blue mare is frozen to a halt. For the first time tonight, she feels the cold prickle of fear along her spine. Doe-eyes are wide, cloven hooves seemingly rooted where she stands, taking in the ghoulish beast that stands before her (and the longer she stares, the colder she feels). “A game?” Tiamat whispers with a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Though every instinct screams at her to run, the ocean mare stays (why, exactly? Perhaps because she wants to believe in the goodness, or perhaps there is something—something—about this rotting beast that bids her to stay). Shifting her weight, the blue mare draws her legs in closer to her body, standing more comfortably at the fringe of the knotted, bleached roots. Vaguely she notices the two macabre-marked colts not far from her side, even manages a gentle grin of greeting, but she finds that her attention is swallowed by the monstrosity of a man. Looking into his pitted, red eyes, she cannot fight the shiver of her spine—and flicking her leonine tail behind her, she reminds herself of the kindness, the goodness, the hope— - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - “Speech.” Seeking: [Magic: EarthxWind (U) | Pockets of water may be used to heal/soothe minor injuries.] (An upgrade for :: [ Magic: EarthxWind | The ability to draw moisture from the clouds, water, and sky to create floating pockets of water that she can move at will. ] :: [ Restrictions | Can create up to three small, or one large, floating pockets of water and exist in 5m radius from body. ]) Wishlist First Refusal | Second Refusal dreaming the day away! please tag Tia in all replies! magic & force are permitted.
Seeking: [ Magic: Dark x Spark | Can create lightning creatures that shock when they touch skin. ] [ Restrictions | Creatures cannot be larger than Oizys herself; can create 1 large or 2 small per battle? ] wishlist I'm not sure if this is a refusal, because it was for exactly the same magic but was Spark rather than Dark. I'll throw it here anyway, please discount it if it isn't viable ^_^ [ the gargoyle queen ] OIZYS IS ALWAYS RATED M FOR STRONG LANGAUGE IN HER POSTS
06-09-2016, 01:51 PM
No priors. Seeking: [WaterxDark :: Can use moisture from the surroundings to summon waves] [Restrictions :: Extends 5m radius from body; can create up to three small or one large wave.]
The forest of shadows and bones had much to whisper about today. It was not often that the pale maiden felt drawn to the Bone Shrine, but on days like this, with the Dark Mother's beckoning song drifting through the boughs, Orithia had no choice. It was dim beneath the vast canopy and the lass was loath to admit that the silence brought on by her proximity to the Dark Mother's Tree was unnerving. As the trees thinned in place of ivory roots and hanging bones, Orithia found that she was not the only creature to have responded to the tuneless summons. Pale eyes roving those gathered, the pastel mare allowed a small grin to slide over her lips... Nights in the Uumalahn deserts were just as merciless as the days, though the moon breathed ice as the sun bellowed fire. They were nestled up together, the child and the nursemaid, the rickety mare whispering tales of old to the babe pressed at her side. Tales of the Dark Mother and her shrines to the Restless Dead - the gates between worlds decorated with bones and teeth. "On certain days, on cruel days," whispered the ancient mare through the dark, "The Dark Mother's lullaby is heard and one of her children can slip through the cracks in reality. Fear the children of the Lady Death, my child, they know twists and tricks to trap you beneath the weight of this world - to trade you as a means to their ends." A gasp and a giggle, dull teeth pulling gently at a child's forelock, shushes and coos. "Don't worry, my sweet, the Dark Mother only calls to those who have known death..." If only that lovely old nursemaid had known that the Dark Mother had been calling to Orithia since the night she fled her desert home caked in the blood of others. And now here she stood, a fool amidst fools. The creature stood lengths above their heads, eyes aglow with the flush of dried blood and the stink of gravedust. It's voice was the creak of a crypt door, the distorted buzz of a thousand flies, the sifting of dirt upon a casket. "Come, come, would you like to play a game?" The inquiries of others were drowned out as she gazed into the depthless glowing eyes of that bleached skull, grin curling at the edges like smoldering parchment. Oh, to feel the breath of the dead scraping against her skin, to know the blessings of the Dark Mother rested upon those heavy, rotted shoulders. What game would she not play for that same blessing? She eyed the smooth trunk and swaying bones, the rotting dead and the smoking fissure in it's wake. A step, two, three, she was beside other equines and before the towering beast, the air growing colder the closer she came to the Restless Dead. "What better stakes for a game than one's own blood?" [Magic: DarkxEarth (P) | Blood turns to garnets when it leaves body.] NO PRIOR REFUSALS um ok ori Honestly, kick her ass at any time. Seriously.
Any and all aggressive and non-aggressive contact permitted.
Please no permanent injury or death. We'll get to that part at some point.
xoxo
06-10-2016, 04:58 AM
Astarot
He had wondered west today wondering what Helovia held this way. he pranced proudly as he moved through the thickening trees. He felt no fear, stupid not to feel that, as he moved into the darker shadows. He felt at him in the dark, even if his light dun coat and white bone markings made him stand out. Lost in his thoughts about what they day might hold he missed the cold breeze and the starting of the bone sounds. "What the?" He whispered confused as the sound grew loud enough to catch his absent mind. Ears prick up curiously as the scent of others drifts on the wind. 'Why is Tyrath and Kid here?' he wondered silently as he picked up the pace cantering carefully around the trees. The trees open up to a small clearing where the fucking tree roots are moving. Fear grips his young heart and he freezes to scared to move. Something, something evil, starts to rise form the ground. His hide quivers and sweat slowly rises as his throat goes dry. He wants to turn and run, get back to the safety of his mother, but he can see Ty and Kid standing in a small group and they aren't running for home. He slides his tongue between his teeth and bites down using the pain to get his body moving. The taste of cooper and iron is new and... satisfying. He almost losses his track of thought so caught up in the thick taste. Until he sees the antlers covered in feathers and teeth rising form the ground. He moves into over time shoving his way through the crowd to his brother. He pulls up next to Ty and tries to press his slightly damp hide against his finally realizing the thing is all the way out of the ground. He gulps as bi colored eyes look up at the horrible creature. Repulsed and fascinated he watches the beast as he speaks of a game. He wants to know what the game is before he agrees to play, but he has a feeling the creature would not give away that information so easily. Instead he stands beside his winged and horned brother feeding off of his strength. ------------------------------- Talk Words;; 374 OOC/Tags;; @Tyrath Seeking an upgrade to his magic: :: [ Magic: DarkxEarth ]:: Can shift into a blue dragon or a Blue Jay always keeps his eye color -- Restrictions :: Can only transform once in battle Wishlist - table by Niki -
06-10-2016, 10:57 AM
Syrena
let the water take me
It is only by sheer luck that Syrena is here today. Not fate. She doesn’t believe in that nonsense. It wasn’t fate that brought her to Helovia, only misfortune, one wrong step. There wasn’t some greater purpose to stripping her powers and making her start over again, miserable and furious. Fate’s just a word parents tell their children; a word they use to make little ones feel better when it all goes to hell. “It was meant to be, honey.” Bull. It just happened. Why? Because shit happens. Today, she happens to be in the Deep Forest, too damn far away from the sea for any level of comfort and trying to get out, when the rattling catches her attention. She follows the sound until she finds the tree, the trunk wearing bone instead of bark (or perhaps simply on top of the bark, but in the pitch of night, it looks rather like bones growing from the ground). She knows that the ominous and the strange in Helovia often comes with gifts, and she needs gifts. Powers, particularly, but she’ll take just about anything. It is better than nothing, and better than the small source of power she’s managed to obtain so far. She’d been everything once, and now she fought just to be a tiny scrap of something. So she goes to the tree, her feet unpracticed and ungraceful on the treacherous, rooted earth. It’s dark enough she hopes no one notices, and she keeps tripping along until the bones in the braches – ah, the rattling makes sense now – come into view above her head. And then it all changes. Hell. Of course it does. The winds bites at her seal-like flesh, the rattling drowns out any hope of other sounds, and the earth moves her feet. Syrena scrambles, trying to keep her footing as the roots twist around her, though her eyes stay on the base of the tree. The roots part here, letting something through, and she almost wonders if it’s worth staying to find out. Almost. It’s worth it. She will not be nothing. And she will not cower in fear. There’s no word that comes to mind for the creature before her. It’s simply is - a creature pieced together from the chopped bits of a variety of different animals. Both grotesque and fascinating (a slight pang of jealousy, because though it is not beautiful, it is memorable, and that is something). She comes, like a puppy dog, that realization grinding her to a halt. But she’s already there, anyway, already answering his question. “Sure.” And like always, her voice betrays nothing. Deadpan and uninterested. But the creature probably sees through that voice. She wants whatever is on the side of this game. "words" darya87 | larfsalot on deviantart No prior refusals Wishlist Seeking :: [Magic: dark x water | Can create water illusions that create the sensation of dehydration or drowning] :: [Restrictions | Causes shortness of breath, dizziness, and confusion in battle, and lasts 10 seconds] Please tag in all posts Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death Image by Reli
06-10-2016, 03:27 PM
No prior refusals Wishlist Seeking [Magic: WindxLight | Able to control wind currents to move objects. ] Restrictions: Limited to moving small objects, winds extend 10m from body. Please tag in all posts Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death Image by Kiki
06-11-2016, 10:53 AM
the tempest of an unrelenting sea
Ears perk— her healed body had wandered away from the fresh water pools of the Hidden Falls. Instead, she found herself once again between the thick, dark trees of the forest. Why had she chosen to return to the very place Cem had nearly bested her with his blinding magic? Likely to test herself against the forest once again— to prove that she would not be so vulnerable a second time. That she could protect herself as well above the sea in these solid trees as in the kelp forests of the ocean floor. So when the ominous buzzing rattle struck through the trunks and into her scaled ears, her teeth points bare as her lips peel back slightly. The woman is more tense and more on guard than usual. Webbed hooves fall in cautious, rigid steps as her ridges undulate with unease. Though her newly healed face fins are tucked flush against her throat— it would not do to have then partially ripped from her face once again. Unblinking, wide eyes arrest on the moving bones suspending in the ivory-trunk tree. The clattering is sinister, but only interest sparks in her too-large eyes. Were these bones won in battle, souvenirs of great winds? Or were they mere collected by one who sought death? At the thought of the first, then the militant mare thrums with thrill. The latter held much less interest for her. Her scaled legs arrest, eyes sweeping the sudden appearance of a beast from the roots of the bone-tree. But the woman does not flinch, does not falter. In comparison to the monsters faced in the Rift, such a ghastly creature is almost commonplace to the seahorse. And, instead of attacking and trying to eat her flesh, it asks to play a game. A sharp snort pushes out her ridged nostrils, unblinking eyes sweeping those already present as she awaits to see what the “game” would be before committing to it. The creature could still turn on them; could suddenly seek their lifeblood rather than their participation in childish antics. Her sweeping gaze found two colts marked by bones, and two mares who smelled of the sea— but all others were swept aside when her bright eyes found a familiar, grey form. Sweeping strides bring her near the growing, silent colt, “Stay by me, Kahelo,” her low growl was not patronizing or protective, merely commanding. Seeking [Magic: WaterxDark | Neurotoxin in tail barbs that injects when barbed into tissue.] Wishlist Refusal 1 @Milo mentioned
06-11-2016, 11:53 AM
K itty You despise these woods. The canopy's too thick to look down on Kitty and trace the beauty of his faint dorsal stripe; the roots are too much of a tangle mess to follow him on fast feet. Despite the impinging dark he makes it through these woods easily. He's graceful, he has a sense of direction that's attuned to every distinct facet of the wilderness. You're more blind than a bat in broad daylight and more desperate than one in the snow. Every breath is labored as you fight to keep up with him and keep him in your line of sight. You won't let him get lost in these woods. And it's frightening here, too, but Kitty of course isn't scared. Is it that he's seen worse than this or that he just doesn't care enough to fear for his safety? You know he doesn't have a death wish, you know that his life hasn't been particularly haunted up to this point, so why doesn't he tremble when the rattling of bones is the only sound that can be heard? Why doesn't his coat wick with sweat, why don't his strong legs begin to quake? Some sort of monster is rising from the womb of a tree and he stands stoic, dark and blending with the surrounding woods rather than cutting through the crowd. You really wish, if only to make yourself less of a coward by contrast, that he'd be a little bit scared. But it's Kitty's love of gambling that lets him step forward on powerful limbs to face death incarnate. A game? Of course, you should have known. Kitty loves playing games. "Count me in," he says, his voice silky and loud, louder than the others'. He doesn't even give them a second glance, doesn't seem concerned that his competition appears to mainly be children, a sea-fish, and a freshly harvested drop of ocean water. He and the gambler, the host of the game, are all that matter. He tilts his precious head back and his long, silken mane falls over his neck like beauty in previous waves. You want to comb through those dark locks and whisper luck into his ears. But Kitty doesn't need luck. No priors. Seeking: :: [Magic: Dark x Light | Ability to influence another's actions by prompting them with a specific verbal command.] [Restrictions up to admin.]
06-13-2016, 12:19 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-13-2016, 12:19 PM by Random Event.)
06-13-2016, 08:35 PM
As the last of the equines filtered in through the trees, their murmurings vague and unheard by the dove, the monstrous creature before them began to speak once more. A breeze punctuated his words, wrapping her in the scent of rot and ruin. She shivered despite herself, a small, primitive part of her brain screaming in protest, screaming for her to flee. The pale mare gritted her teeth and steeled herself against that voice, tensing the muscles in her haunches as if she couldn't trust her own instinct not to take over. This is what she wanted. She must remain steadfast, this is what she wanted. As the vines uncoiled and snaked their way across the packed earth, bleached remains held aloft like offerings to some long-forgotten god, Orithia stepped forward, further lessening the distance between her and the Ravenous Dead. The vines undulated, hanging the ivory remains of a spine before her, etched with runes and glowing with moondust. So enthralled was she by the hypnotic swaying of the vertebrae before her, the mare almost missed the creature's words. What can you tell me of my friends? With a swallow and a staunch nod, the mare directed her gaze again to the undulating spine before her. Leaning forward, she sniffed at the interconnected bones, the faint rattle of their movement sounding like the swaying of grasses and the scent of savannah was near overwhelming. Taking half a step closer to the vines, part of her terrified of her proximity to the monster while the rest trilled with excitement - she stood here before death, would she be the one to walk away? Her movement had brought her as close as she could be to the spine without touching it, pale eyes roving the glowing surface for any hint of it's previous owner. With deep breath and a shuddering exhale, the mare closed her eyes and reached her nose out to touch the bones. As the soft pink of her flesh pressed against the cracked and glowing surface, a scream pierced the silence - but it wasn't hers, was it? She was already so far away... The wind was biting this day and the Kholenii, High Priestess to the Golden Sea and her children, looked out from atop a swell in the earth at the terror that was being wrought below. The screams, she was sure, were horrid. The stench, she knew, would be of blood and gore and death. The beautiful Golden Sea with it's horizons of Aurelian grasses and fertile soil, would be burned away. All this the Kholenii knew to be true, and yet the wind whisked away the screams and the scents and the smoke; saving it for the day she would meet the Gods before the Fourteen Gates of the Hells and receive the judgment she deserved. And she would deserve a cruel judgment, this she knew as well. For she had traded the lives of her clan, scores of beautiful, innocent souls to save but two; her own and that of the child within her womb. The Plainswalker warriors had come to her in weeks past in the night - always the night for them. She imagined it was because the sun could not bear to look upon the cruelty of their crimes. They had promised the immunity of her and her unborn child if she gave them the information they sought, if she betrayed the very kingdom she had helped create. Her eyes slid closed, silent tears painting tracks down ivory cheeks as she imagined the dying screams of those she had served, those she had loved. She imagined the light fleeing their eyes, last words uttered upon bloodied lips. The Kholenii knew it would not be the names of their loved ones whispered to that immortal night, she knew it would be hers, the name she would wear until the end of time, one borne upon a tide of lies and death. She whispered it once into that vicious wind, prayed it to be whisked away and into the arms of the Dark Mother; Her final confession. Her condemnation. Betrayer. ~*~*~ The pain was blinding and the heat was near suffocating as the Kholenii of a dead tribe heaved and pushed, forcing the child from her loins in a spray of agony and the tearing of flesh. A guttural moan slipped from her lips as her sweat-soaked sides heaved with effort and pain. She snapped at a passing nursemare, eyes wild as the elderly mare scurried past the lone figure in the doorway in search of water and rags. He stood proud and cruel, the stallion, his eyes alight with a sickening victory and his lips painted with the blood of her womb. She had thought he loved her once, but now, as the truth lay bare before her eyes and before the screaming release that was birth, she knew it was all for sport and a twisted sense of pride. She bared her teeth at him, the enamel cracked and chipped from grinding at the garnets he had forced her to eat. "This child," the memory of his voice slithered into her mind, as slippery and serpentine as ever, "My child, she will be the thing of legends. Formed from jewels and blood, hundreds of souls sacrificed for her existence, she will reign eternal before me. You shall birth for me the child of betrayal and rage, the perfect creature to rear and break beneath my rule. You shall birth for me the Endsinger." A violent spasm seized her then, ripping her from memory as a final shove forced the child from her womb and into the cruel, cruel world. Twisting, the Kholenii stared at the feeble babe upon the marbled floor, her wings tiny and useless, ivory coat stained pink with blood. Nursemares rushed to the child, still lying unmoving upon that polished floor, and for a moment, the mare felt a thrill of victory thrumming through her veins. She turned her gaze to the stallion, to the creature woven of demons and spite, greed and hellfire, she grinned her supremacy as if to say "See? You do not get everything you want. You do not win here. You do not win me." But the victory was a false one as she felt a stirring near her quarters and the faint mewling of a child, newly born and yet innocent in this land where monsters played god and gods turned a blind eye. A hoarse cry sprang from the Kholenii's lips, building to a wretched scream, her throat ripping upon the razors in her voice, tearing beneath the weight of her failure. Nonononono. Not her, not her too. Please no. Her screams and prayers fell upon the thrones of deaf gods and taunting devils alike - everything she had been promised, everything she had sacrificed had been for naught. She had failed. She had failed she had failed she had failedfailedfailed. The disgraced woman, Kholenii of the Golden Sea now turned to rot and ruin, the mother of a child now given to hell, given to Uumalah, laid her head upon the cursed marble floor, despair her one true companion as the laughter of her torturer rang out victory. Sharp hoof falls upon the floor announced his approach, a pressure upon her heaving chest, the feel of a deadly promise behind the weight of his hooves. His voice was but a whisper in her ear, but for all the world, she could swear he was screaming into her very bones, "Your last words must be her name, little Kholenii of the Rotted Sea. Choose wisely for she is to be my greatest asset in the years to come. Our little Queen of her own little Hell." She could feel his lips against her cheek, pulling into a slow grin - the selfsame grin that used to stir butterflies in her stomach, the grin that reddened her cheeks and haunted her dreams. Tears slipped down her cheeks, tracing tracks in the dirt and blood, the defeat in her heart as heavy as the day she orchestrated the slaughter of her people. All of it, for what? A broken promise and a daughter sentenced to a life of agony. Swallowing the taste of bitter sorrow upon her tongue, the mare whispered four syllables into the stifling heat of the room before a blinding flash of pain struck behind her eyelids and sucked her into the endless halls of death. "Orithia..." Orithia was shoved back into her body with a choking gasp and a terrified sob fighting for release from her lips. Her legs shook, her very core shook beneath the truth she had witnessed; the truth of her origin. Suddenly, everything seemed to be too much, the dim light filtering through the canopy, the presence of the other equines, the very air too close for her to breathe. Her chest heaved as she fought for breath, whites of her eyes showing as she struggled with the reality of her existence; the truth behind her legacy. Ragged breaths were sucked in as she looked up to find the pulsating gaze of the Restless Dead staring back at her. At first she could not find her voice, lips moving without sound as if in prayer. At last, after a seemingly endless stretch of time, the mare's words could be heard. "My... Mother. This is the spine of my mother." Outrage flashed within those pastel eyes before dimming into a shocked sort of acceptance, "I was.... She was a High Priestess of a clan. She - she thought she had fallen in love and when she had gotten pregnant, she betrayed the entire clan. She..." Orithia's jaw clenched with the agony of confession, but she allowed truth to pry her mouth apart, "They were slaughtered. All of them. She gave them for me, for the future she thought she would have with my father and I. But he betrayed her, forced her to eat garnets to make me more valuable... Beat her to make me stronger. He -- He was a madman, a jester in the courts of the gods, a monster." Tears made tracks down her cheeks. So like her mother's. "You give me her spine? Is this to say she never had one? That she never had the strength of heart to keep her family, her child away from the grasp of a demon?" She fought to keep the anger from her voice, knowing it would hold no purpose here, "You give me her spine and her truths? This is the token you barter with? The Truth?" Her tongue tasted of blood. Of garnets. "I've beheld your Truth, Creature. What would you have me tell?" [Magic: DarkxEarth (P) | Blood turns to garnets when it leaves body.] NO PRIOR REFUSALS O SHIT SORRY THIS GOT REAL REALLY FAST Honestly, kick her ass at any time. Seriously.
Any and all aggressive and non-aggressive contact permitted.
Please no permanent injury or death. We'll get to that part at some point.
xoxo
06-14-2016, 07:36 PM
No priors. Seeking: [WaterxDark :: Can use moisture from the surroundings to summon waves] [Restrictions :: Extends 5m radius from body; can create up to three small or one large wave.] Aquila and Orithia (but mostly Aquila) mentioned.
06-15-2016, 12:14 AM
kid
I'm one of many to follow the mysterious song of the rattling bones, skull graced head turning to watch others follow in my footsteps, here only (or so I assume) because of the harmonious thrum of power— it's a promise of something dark and wonderful, a gift granted by the pitch blackness lurking at the edges of our vision, given by the demons lurking in our subconscious. I am not the only son of Volterra to be summoned by this possibility of power, watching as two mirror faces (face stealers, it seems to run in the family) appear alongside me, apart of the spectators. Another face presents itself, one worn by a snarky and subtly sympathetic grulla with an attitude. A grin splits open across my jagged features, disrupting the blank mask I'd worn here. I make my way towards her, shit eating grin still present as I slide up next to her (given she hasn't run away from me). "Fancy seeing you here." Although it would be good manners to at least say hello to my brothers, I pay them no mind. We aren't to be friends anyway, we were competitors for an illusory throne. I care even less for everyone else, not bothering to take the time to recognize the faces I'd seen before (that mute boy from when the salmon asked questions)— I didn't come here to chit chat and make friends (even though I spoke to Ms. Super Salty). My focus is solely on the beast before me, the mongrel built of gods know what, hollow eyes watching us form an acceptable audience before presenting each attendee with a bone. The vines unfurl, letting loose a wonderful array of pieces belonging to a million different things. The bone before me is long, eyes focusing on it as I adjust to the sight (and smell) of something decayed, bleach white bone staring right back. I take it from the vine with hesitance, holding it in my mouth for a moment and almost dropping it with the unexpected weight. The end hits the ground, a resonating thunk against gnarled roots (its hollow?). As my lips wrap around the long bone (like mine?), I feel overwhelmed by something dreadfully familiar. My shoulders slouch under the weight of disapproval, legs trembling beneath the silent accusations that I cannot hear, only feel. I gasp, knowing well this feeling (so familiar), heart thundering as the one existence that causes such a heavy feeling comes to mind. Mother. Beneath her stone cold gaze I feel the accusatory finger, twisted and terrifying as it points solely at me and my flawed existence. But this is not Mother's bone I bear, only the sense of damnation she brings with each venomous word she spits from her mouth in rapid succession. She is not dead— I only just saw her in her gloom filled daze, wandering blindly through this same forest (she's in here somewhere). The cries of another participant seem so distant and far away, drowned out by the sound of blood in my ears as my eyes glaze over. Somewhere in this same forest is a woman who has titled herself an emperor of an empty empire, a self proclaimed mother to one child and a missing memory of one, who near everyday puts the one remaining child of hers through hell and back because she cannot manage her emotions (cannot accept her failures as such and leave well enough alone). My lips purse as I step away from the bone, having set it down upon the ground, gaze held by the rune marked body part. I want to step away from it until I don't feel this way anymore, until my lungs aren't being crushed beneath the damning pressures of a mentally unstable mother. The runes are brought to my attention, giving possibilities of a lion, an eagle— possibilities endless as the bone lays before me. My mind cannot function beyond the thoughts of Mother, caged in and tethered to her (just as I was in the first months of my life), a prisoner to my own emotion. A lip is brought between needy teeth, attempting to collect any given clues. Piece by piece I work, slow and gradual as my thoughts come together (slowly at first, then becoming a gradual rhythm) to form something grand. In no tone of confidence— much rather one of quiet anxiety— I speak up to the beast. "Your friend lived a heavy life, burdened by the damnation set upon them— by whom, I do not know. They were perhaps something strong, something courageous, but no one can run from such judgement forever." Somber words fill my mouth, a flood of sympathy that I never expected to give— why did I feel so greatly for a single bone offered to me for some foolish game (for something I'm not even guaranteed to receive)? "Talk." literally had no idea what i was doing oh well wishlist seeking, darkxwater | his blood causes a heightened sex drive to those who come in contact with it, the potency depends on how much they come in contact with » effects last only 1 post in battle or 3 posts in a normal thread talks to @Oizys directly the boy king
06-15-2016, 07:20 AM
K itty Before you can even get a good look at the gift Kitty's been given, a white mare that it seems even he hadn't noticed before begins to throw some sort of fit. Her mother's spine, she says. You would laugh if Kitty didn't beat you to it. He has as much respect for mares as any, you know that, but the flickering red in his eyes tells you that he isn't sure this game is quite so serious. "You think that's your mother's spine? Forgive me if I consider it unlikely that this gambler in the woods was ever a friend of your family. Don't you think he has better things to do with his time than dig through your overburdened memories?" Kitty snorts then, and the way that the air puffs out from his nostrils is so perfect that you just want to grab ahold of them. Every word he casts at the mare is like a fight song to you—silently you chant for more. But as foolish as the mare might seem to him, she will never be worth that much time. Silently, he turns back to examine his own assignment. He is, after all, quite a hard and focused worker that way. Call him cold for his denunciation of the mare's tragedy, call him ignorant for rolling his eyes at one silver colt's show or rebellion, but you know that he's simply being pragmatic. This is a game, after all, so what good is it to try and tug at the heartstrings or break the rules? No, this is a moment for strategy. His own gift is long and indelicate; not at all fitting for the gorgeous selle on the terra, in your opinion. But Kitty looks over it with care, presses his nose to the bones and inhales every remnant of its scent. There's little left of its life there, but still he can taste the mystery in its air. When he steps back to get a different look, his broad shoulders rolling, he does not need to take so long. If he were to craft his answer on pure emotion alone it would be easy but stupid, in the end. Now he at least has some evidence. "You give me the bones of nocturnal prey, game master, and young prey at that. A night-dodger that got caught by its tail when the sun dared to rise too soon and pass by the moon with pure indifference. Given the age I'm sure it had more it could have done in life; given the unfortunate unluck of its death, I imagine it would have lasted much longer in a perma-dark forest like this." He responds deftly and smartly, just as you expected and hoped. Your hands clap with a tortured glee as you listen to his answer. You pick up on his thoughts, share them in your heart. As if this gambler could ever track down where he'd hid those other old bones. No priors. Seeking: :: [Magic: Dark x Light | Ability to influence another's actions by prompting them with a specific verbal command.] [Restrictions up to admin.] Speaks to @Orithia.
06-15-2016, 08:15 AM
No prior refusals Wishlist Seeking [Magic: WindxLight | Able to control wind currents to move objects. ] Restrictions: Limited to moving small objects, winds extend 10m from body. Please tag in all posts Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death Image by Kiki
06-15-2016, 09:17 AM
Syrena
let the water take me
She’s hardly all that concerned, all things considered. This should be scary or something. And okay, it is, but then again she’s half made legendary, mythical creatures herself. And she did spend the first couple years of her life luring men to their death. Feeding on their souls to sustain her immortality (long gone now, such a waste). She still dreams of that power, of some small shred of the ability to make men fear for their lives again. So yes, while the amalgamation of a monster that stands before them is scary, so was she once. And she’s trying not to forget that losing her powers doesn’t make her powerless. It just makes her different. Granted there’s no water around here to strangle someone with seaweed, but she wouldn’t do that anyway. It would look bad for the Falls and all, and she can’t have that. She is damn tired of the cold that comes every time he speaks though. Her wet skin prickles in the wind, and she tries not to shiver. The stench of the monster finds her as well, and she actually crinkles her nose at this one. She loves the smell of the sea, can even stand the smell of decaying fish within the waves. But this? It’s death that’s long past its expiration, like milk gone bad only centuries worse. Pleasant. But whatever lay at the end of this was worth it. She’d suffer and toil and sweat to become something again. It is not the life she planned on, not the life were she was born with all the powers she could ever want. No, she would lash trees and build walls and struggle, but she would get there. The vines snake out from the tree now, carrying bones in their green fingers. Each vine heads towards one of the horses gathered – most of whom she doesn’t know, and doesn’t care to know. Some of them are talking amongst themselves. But Syrena just stands off to the side, concerned with the prize at the end and not with making small talk. The vine bounces about before her, and she wants to reach out and snap at the vine till it just stops. But she resists, eyes bouncing around in her skull instead, examining the bones. They are freaking tiny, and she can’t make much out at first. There’s a ton of them, and finally, she begins to figure out they are little tiny wing bones. Lots of them. The runes flash in a stroke-inducing array of colors, though in a way, she finds them beautiful. But they aren’t fish, and they aren’t from the sea since they have wings. She’s not well versed in land and sky creatures, and so it takes her a minute before she even has a guess. The sounds from the bones give her the best clues. They hum with a busy energy, and all around her she can hear that laugh. Something mischievous and odd and similiar to the monster’s laugh. She’s getting tired of that sound, and wants it to shut up. So she answers. “Fairies?” Her voice is deadpan, but there’s a slight cock to her head that implies amusement. Fairies. Well then. The monster put fairies, of all creatures, in front of her. It’s almost funny, if she knew how to laugh. Or maybe fitting. They were monstrous little things. So was see, just not so little. “Small, winged humanoid creatures known for being playful and mischievous, and often cruel. They generally keep to themselves in small parts of the woods, known as fairy glens. They have an affinity for nature, which would explain why they live in the woods. They do come out to cause trouble though, which can range from tangling hair to killing.” Pesky little creatures, she thinks. But perhaps rather useful friends. Unlike many of the others, she feels no personal affront here. Maybe the creature used fairies to kill. Hell, maybe he killed them. She doesn’t care, or judge for that matter. Instead, she waits to see what comes next. She answered the question, she played. Next step. "words" darya87 | larfsalot on deviantart No prior refusals Wishlist Seeking :: [Magic: dark x water | Can create water illusions that create the sensation of dehydration or drowning] :: [Restrictions | Causes shortness of breath, dizziness, and confusion in battle, and lasts 10 seconds] Please tag in all posts Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death Image by Reli
06-15-2016, 11:22 AM
Seeking: [ Magic: Dark x Spark | Can create lightning creatures that shock when they touch skin. ] [ Restrictions | Creatures cannot be larger than Oizys herself; can create 1 large or 2 small per battle? ] wishlist No refusals (I don't think the one I listed in my last post counts) [ the gargoyle queen ] OIZYS IS ALWAYS RATED M FOR STRONG LANGAUGE IN HER POSTS | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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