the Rift


[OPEN] A Merciless Place

d'Artagnan the Nightshade Posts: 364
Aurora Basin General atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17hh :: 12 HP: 68.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Aramis :: Common Hellhound :: Hellfire & Superspeed imi
#1

our names won't be remembered
if we die like trampled flowers

It was, all in all, a pleasant journey back home as the sun bleached his back a rich blood red and bounced rainbows off his twin jewels that crowned his masculine head. Powerful legs broke through snow with a practiced precision, wetting his fur and sending a cold shiver through his bones. The nice kind of shiver in the shade's opinion. As soon as he'd jogged through the Frozen Arch his lobes had twitched in anticipation as familiar scents and the tell tale set of mountains rose up from the Steppe to notify the Time Mender that he was indeed almost home. Aramis bounded on ahead now, with only the odd look back to check on their semi naked traveler before eagerly stretching his legs to reach the Basin faster. The snow ceased for a while and was replaced with the hard floor of the mountain, well worn hooves bouncing off in soft noises, leaving trails of compact snow behind him. He followed it round, wondering if Kelec had made his way successfully up the mountain and still followed behind. It was barely five more minutes before finally the Nightshade fell to halt and looked out across the frozen land that he called home.

Smells of familiar horses greeted him on the air, but a notable ones were missing and he felt his heart grip in momentary anger. He would see to Kelec and await a decision, then he would go back out and find the answers he needed. Blood needed to be drawn before the waiting sent him permanently insane.

He raised his coal smudged nose to the air and commanded his presence be known, requesting for those who dared to show themselves before him. There were things to be done and his impatience found it's way into his voice that called across the Basin. The he retreated his head and twitched it to one side, glancing behind him to see if Kelec was there whilst Aramis curled up around his forelegs.

(@[Kelec] first, then anyone.)

[Image: y1dxk1i.png]

my heart’s an endless winter
              filled with rage

Use force at your own peril ;) please tag me!

Kelec Posts: 18
Aurora Basin Crafter
Stallion :: Other :: 18 hh :: 24 Buff: NOVICE
Adoptable
#2
Neither the length of the journey nor the increasingly cold climate seemed to overly phase the strange creature that followed in the wake of the red unicorn. Despite the lack of fur on arms and face the centaur remained comfortable in the snow and the cold wind, a heritage from a strong, durable race that since long ago had been resilient in most climates. He did have his quirks though. Each time they stopped for a pause the red-haired stud insisted upon lighting a fire with whatever scrambles of wood or lichen he could find on the steppe, and with deftly set snares made from the hair of his own tail he caught himself several hares and plump birds as they went; confirming the suspicions of his herbivore guide that he indeed was inclined to consume meat. Kelec had been quick in assuring that he never would be driven to ever feeding on anything resembling a horse - the very thought seemed to disturb him deeply, and that evening he had abstained from the rests of the ptarmigan caught the day before, as if to hammer down the message.

As they got closer to the distant mountains, his initial talkative manner became slightly more subdued, as it sensing the impatience with the unicorn. By the time they reached the borders of the northern territory the powerfully built centaur seemed almost mute, resorting to simply offer a reassuring nod each time d'Artagnan or Aramis turned to see if he still kept up. Instead, rather than talking or asking questions about the region the stud was taking in the surroundings with his own eyes, studying the landscape with alert attentiveness as if trying to imprint each detail of it into his mind. The mental map over the world he kept in his head was slowly extending further and further north, and it came to a point where he actually began to doubt whether the glass-horned horse knew where they were going. Had he been on his own Kelec would have turned around a long time ago, deeming the tundra inhospitable and barren... Now, however, he simply accepted the situation and remained silent, eyes trailing over the horizon as they went.

He knew something was up when the posture of his red friend suddenly began to change. With great interest the centaur watched how the others head reached forward, ears perked up and a new poise entered the steps, became more certain and confident. Realizing that they must be nearing the goal of the journey, Kelec followed closely behind the horse and the hound as they rounded the mountain, let the blue gaze trail forth beyond the narrow pass that marked the entrance...

Taking a slow, deep breath in surprise he came to a halt next to d'Artagnan just as the other lifted the maw and called out, likely for the rest of the herd. A grin stretched over his face as he put his hands against the sides and studied the hidden valley before them, taking in the caverns that littered the mountain sides, the sparse forestry and the steam that rose from the hot spring in the center of the cauldron.

"Impressive" he said and gave the unicorn a quick glance. "I would never have thought that a place like this would exist in the middle of the tundra. It's quite big. How many horses live here?" He shifted his stance, feeling how tanned hooves sank into the snow and soaked the chestnut legs to the skin. It would become necessary to do some adjustments if he were to reside here. Thicker clothing to keep the metabolism down, a proper shelter, some way to extend the cultivation season... Plans began to swirl through the mind of the traveler, and with a faint smile tugging at the lips he hoped that the leaders of the herd would allow him to settle down there. It would be nice to be able to stay in one place for a while, to build up a real home. May the fates see to it that his wandering days were over.

Deimos the Reaper Posts: 527
Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB
Heather
#3
Deimos had seen some peculiar things in his life. He’d felt the cruel grasp of Lucifer reach for his soul and pluck it apart upon his first birthday. He’d heard the tale of his father’s death, his mother’s demise, the parting, sinister echoes of a life unknown, untouched. He’d witnessed the rise of an empire, watched it fall and wondered how far he could have flung his nefarious armaments to shield it from such a vile storm. He’d wandered into the depths of the ice and became part of its wanton glacier, walking winter, the barren, desolate season molded into corporeal form. He’d assisted in the carving of a new realm, thriving amongst peaks, valleys, and had become all the more frustrated, vexed and exasperated when children were taken from their corridors, when two wars remained unceremoniously ruptured, unraveled, useless. But perhaps, as he gazed across the horizon upon two images, one familiar, one distinctly foreign, this apparition was to be the strangest of them all.

The Time Mender’s unmistakable call, once constant, once vigilant, incensed an ignited an infernal twist in his chest, fury and ferocity brewing into the cataclysm of his moving limbs. Where had he gone? Why had he abandoned them amongst trials, amongst sieges, amongst battering rams and valiant efforts? Had it not been for his children, his beloved? Had they not carved flesh and sinew from their own hides to share with his anger, with his torrents, crusades and brutality? Why – in the peak of rancorous contortions, had he fled into the nocturnal decadence? The queries sparked a grand laceration amongst his defiant, revolutionary mind, probed and guided the thousands of machinations wired and webbed into his infernal bestowal, for all the respect the Reaper heeded, granted, and gifted the Doctor, he’d been so disappointed in the latter’s actions. Behind all his umbrage, indignation, and wrath, he’d committed naught at all, rendered humiliation, annihilation, at the hands of desert tribes, dune birds, sand gnats and rats. D’art’s return meant many future discussions and discourses, explanations and answers, but as his penetrating stare slinked from unicorn to the unknown, as his powerful steps protruded into their surroundings, only one more inquiry flickered, pricked and flared into the roaming calculations of the General.

His routine nonchalance, his composition of reticence and indifference, was disrupted by the puzzling appearance of the chestnut creature before him. For a moment, Deimos thought himself hallucinating and delusional, caught in some poisonous vector the Mender had managed to secrete and release into the air, spoiling the atmosphere with his vexations and cataclysms. The monster’s piercing gaze narrowed, and he forced himself to blink rapidly, then ceased altogether when the perplexing, mystifying image failed to leave their icy, rimed gates. It held shambles of normalcy, the structure and containment of equine flesh, proud, undiminished, towering limbs, but upwards, spiraling from his chest, was another being entirely, pale, not matching, like dueling, vivid enigmas assembled together, a wicked, specious, treacherous chimera. On the pallid portions was no pelt at all, nude and bare, until it crossed into shoulders, appendages that ended with clawing, grasping tools, a short nape, and a flattened face. Mane sprouted in wild, vacant knots, but didn’t hide the irregularities, the quirks and rarities. How had D’art come to discover such a brute? How could they use him? The most important fixation was drawn from his blunt chords, rippled over the horizon to Doctor and illusion, plagued fool and bizarre deviation. “What are you?”

DEIMOS
delivered from the blast
last from a line of lasts
and now the kingdom comes crashing down undone
background pattern by webtreatsetc.deviantart.com
image credits

Carnesîr Posts: 60
Hidden Account atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 :: 3 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
wanda
#4
He follows Deimos, a ghost following the Reaper, the coward following courage as if bravery might rub off on him. A smile flits at his lips following these somewhat amusing thoughts; him, valiant, audacious, gallant? Never would he fit those heroic adjectives- and that he didn't entirely mind. It was his job in life to write, to record, to draw and paint, remember, sing and create ballads, poems, epics. Scholar, Deimos had called him. So scholar he was, weak of heart but clever of mind, deft of tongue and a slippery fiend. He liked the word, turning it around in his mind. It sounded much better than the Keeper of Memories, also known as géarron.

Why does he follow death today?

To answer- because where death walks, chaos is sure to follow, and so, naturally, stories will be woven, and songs will be need to be sung and memories will need to be kept, so they will not be forgotten. Not only this, but curiosity of which gnaws perpetually at his stomach, making his heart beat a little faster, his bones rattling subtly, making him a disaster waiting to happen. The General said he was born with it. Did his mother die? How many has he killed? How can he not be a god, when he can murder, slaughter, steal the light of life so easily? Deimos is a legend if Carnesîr has ever set eyes on one, but he does not speak, keeping the secrets inside the heart surrounded by the magic of death.

Eyes drift from the grim Reaper, settle on something he has heard of in legends. Lefirin, the horse-elves.

The lithe, slender unicorn steps towards the man with his eyes filled with awe. This is a being that is alive, a myth incarnated and robed in mortal flesh, with the hairless arms and chest of what His People had called elves. Those nubs of ears are not slender and pointed, as the stories went, but the face is flat and the... paws... no, what were they called? Hands. The hands were there, with the five, sausage-like fingers. Dark eyes and a dark mane, the sleek body of a well-muscled stallion. Male, then. Beside, the chest is flat, not curved with the breasts of a female. A frown creases the grullo's lips, his brow furrowing softly in thought. Hadn't the stories said they had two legs? This was an animal with six limbs. He had thought six limbs impossible, an anatomical flaw.

A stallion is leading the lefiri (lefirin being the plural.) He is red as blood with a horn of glass- no, two, one half-broken- and upon seeing him Carnesîr takes sudden, raw dislike which sets his blood boiling.

"He is lefiri, Deimos." The scholar murmurs, eyes not drifting from the strangely flat face. "An intelligent being of equine and elvish... parent age? Line age?"

Then he addresses the being itself with a nervous twitch of his ears. "Thought you were old mare's tale."


-- set before Carnesîr finds out that Aurora Basin attempted to invade the Dragon's Throat (I don't believe this would mess up anyone's timeline)

Illynx the GildedBlade Posts: 413
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 13 HP: 67.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Kyst :: Common Griffon :: Zapping Jab Bunnie
#5
The call that tumbled through the valley was familiar, the sound a note to draw to mind her inadequacies but also the bleeding soul of her people; dark rimmed ears lifted from a deeply bay crown, the Lady having been half asleep alongside the curling tendrils of steam that rose and wafted out from the broiling surface of the hot springs, her luxuriously long and ebonite tail swishing about her hind legs with delicate smacks and clicks, the action more to rouse her lazy brain into some form of functioning. She snorts, her nose lowering and a shiver racing from her poll down to her dock and each gold dipped limb, the delightfully crisp air of spring working in time with her stretches and invigorating movements to quickly pull her from the clutches of reverie and back into the moment at hand.

Slender and graceful, a panther among women, she trots with broad steps across the tightly packed, partially frozen earth. The return of the sun had done much for her spirits, the rather superstitious woman having found that it's warming beams had been an omen for her to pick up her bruised and shattered ego and continue forth on the path to greatness. Though it's light had given her numerous headaches since it had returned to the heavens, she found she was rather grateful despite the gentle throbbing in her temples; never had she realized how deeply she had missed the sunlight glistening across the snow capped peaks, the gently swaying waters of the lake alight with diamonds in the high afternoon.

Her pace slows as the poisoner and his catch come into view, the small gathering of the herd about them not what draws her forward momentum to an abrupt halt, but rather the sight of what D'artagnan had brought home. Narrowly she avoids her jaw dropping to the floor, instead biting down hard on her tongue to swallow the cry of outrage she initially feels when faced with this strange sight. A cougar who has spotted her prey, one hoof delicately finds it's hold before the other, and thus it continues, the golden backed bitch slowly arriving into the gathered circle of faces. She catches Kelec's words as she draws within ear shot, but it is well after the closing words of the white horned, ash toned stranger accompanying the Reaper, and she lets her own figure ride in alongside Deimos's open flank on the wave of silence, taking a moment to observe those gathered, the longest and most in depth look given to D'art, golden gaze twinkling with curiosity as to what had made the good doctor decide to bring home such a... monstrosity.

But he was not a monster, she did not figure, even if what should have been a neck was replaced with a slender and grotesque log-like extension, leading to strange branches that ended in pronged, paw like objects. She figured they were sort of like paws, anyway, carrying much resemblance to the posts upon which Aramis stood but that the claws were flat and carried a similar appearance to numerous hooves on the ends of many, many legs. When she got to the red male's face, however, she found herself so perplexed by what and why this man was as he was. That the stranger had given it a name, albeit a beautiful sounding one, did little to placate her absolute confusion as to the origin of the beast.

And he had no horn!

His flat features made her uneasy, knowing from slender experiences with wild creatures that such faces could see more clearly than her kind, and also, as already mentioned, his brow was flat and unadorned. But his muzzle (she thought that strange, pointing thing was a muzzle, anyway, it had two holes and seemed to flex with the movements of his chest, ever so gently) gave her the opinion that this one, while he may see further and more clearly than she, could by no means smell as acutely. Another curious gaze is given to the male's unusual top hooves, the five points on the flat and almost square palms drawing to mind that perhaps, while he was indeed a freak of nature, he could be utilized to great advantage of her people.

"Lefiri, elf. I care not which. Surely he is strong," she mused aloud, "and surely, also, D'artagnan was thoughtful before bringing him here." She paused and let a slender giggle rupture the steady cadence of the air, her thoughtful face suddenly blooming into a sickeningly sweet and friendly expression to over-ride the hidden and bleak message of her words, exuberance flowing freely from her body as she turned her gaze about to look once more upon D'artagnan as her jab at the unwhole status of the satyr was let fly. It didn't seem pertinent to simply write off the strange beast the doctor had brought up to the mountain so quickly, not when she herself kept a "daughter" of sorts that was very much the product of treason, born on the very soil she was now essentially held prisoner on. To send the humanoid creature back out into the wilderness would make her seem hypocritical, especially in the case of Destry, and all who had been involved in the chaos that had bound them all together (for better or worse) knew that the Basin could not afford to loose out on any potential benefits that they could grasp at.

"I am the Lady Illynx," she said, sweeping her gaze back to the strange horse-like being and offering a gracious bob of her head in greeting, recovering courteous ground that, to no surprise, Deimos had deemed unnecessary. One could not berate the man for being sour, though; such a devil was the black stallion that Illynx felt quite nervous just sharing this closely in his air, and she knew that it was never high on his list to appease others with flattery (at least, she had never heard him attempt so) and, in all honesty, the very essence of the man made companionship with the stoic male almost like cuddling a thorn bush as far as Illynx could be concerned. "The Basin holds near fifty members, perhaps more, perhaps less," her lower lip protruded outwards suddenly in her signature mood changes, the beaming laughter that had seemed to swallow her face suddenly extinguished in an expression of sour admission, "recently we had some... events come to pass. I am ashamed to say I do not know precisely how many reside upon the mountain anymore than I know how many hairs are upon good D'artagnan's head."

A look of consolation is spared the doctor as she mentions the "events" at hand, knowing full and well that none upon the mountain wore the weight of their loss as heavily as he. His whole family, it would seem, had been the brunt of the Edge and Throat's twisted games, and it saddened Illynx, who knew all to well the burdens of being alone, that any of her herd were forced to be separate from those they held close to their heart. It was not to say that she would risk her own skin to save the foals and Kou, that was to be sure - but there would certainly be attempts to save them from the horrendous life of unity and hybrid hugging that was to be found in the Edge.

All of these things required time, which Illynx found more and more to be on everyone's side but their own.
Magic/assault allowed to be used on Illynx at any time, in so far as it does not kill or seriously maim her without my permission. 

Huyana Posts: 83
Aurora Basin Scholar
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15 hands :: 7 years Buff: NOVICE
Krazie
#6
Blue eyes crying in the early morning rain.

As gentle and fair as the moon, the rain girl moved along unhurriedly through the sunlight, slender dark legs swinging haltingly as cleft hooves pressed upon half-melted snow. Huyana could be said to be anything but lethargic, but as the warmth pressed upon her silvery flanks and the gentle alpine breezes tickled her whiskers, she felt as if nothing could be done. Pale mountains cradled their valley, rising as high and majestic as ancient deities, protecting their sacred valley from any who wished to intrude. Her home was a safehold: but the roan could not help but feel unease here nowadays, even as the warmth made her lazy and tugged her lids with sleepiness. She felt a gathering sense of disquiet nestled in her heart—she thought back to the dark days, the shades long removed; were these blessed days permanent, or a cruel trick to lull them into false security?

Dismissively, the scholar tossed her head, meandering aimlessly through her home. By remembering night, she was wishing away day, so she desired to think about more beautiful things; birds sang lazily from their high perches—vaguely, she wondered what stories they crooned—were they ballads of love? (her stomach tightened) Or were they epics of more noble times, recounting mighty days and gentler eras—
The previously unnoticed babble of nearby voices caused the mare to pause, a hoof suspensed cautiously as attentive ears flicked to and fro. Not usually one to pry, but with nothing more to do, the scholar found herself in pursuit of this gathering, nares flaring as they sought out its location. It did not take her long to find them—a curious huddle of bodies; she recognized most of them: her general, young Carnesîr, the Lady Illynx, the mad red doctor, but one figure caused her brows to furrow with scholarly incomprehension.

It was tall, towering over the rest—its bottom half was graceful, rich chestnut in color, vague darker dapples lining its flank, but what was where the resemblance to anything familiar ended. Its top half was bald, naked; nearly painfully so, covered by dark pieces of skin. The ruddy rind and flat, predatory face recalled a tale the Tome Guardian once recounted of a hairless, two-legged race. They had built his Manor, but had disappeared shortly afterward. The mare drew to a halt near the Reaper (if she could, she would have blushed painfully), perhaps vaguely murmuring a word or two in way of greeting, but it was obvious her attention was taken raptly by the creature before them. Lefiri, Carnesîr said. Blue eyes considered it, not unwelcoming but inconclusive, gazing at the creature as if it were a specimen to study. A strange name for a strange creature, she decided. It spoke their language; she yearned to exchange words with it, to discover its place of origin, what it ate, its habits, but she bit her tongue, letting the other's words pass over her own.

Study incomplete, Huyana cocked a hoof, waiting for the man to answer the question which sprang on all of their lips: what was he?

"."

d'Artagnan the Nightshade Posts: 364
Aurora Basin General atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17hh :: 12 HP: 68.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Aramis :: Common Hellhound :: Hellfire & Superspeed imi
#7

our names won't be remembered
if we die like trampled flowers

The blues and browns of d’Artagnan’s gaze met the form of the half hair, the Mender’s hooves shifting on the snowy ground as his body twitched nervously at the proximity of the stranger. Through blizzards and drifts, the shade was impressed by the centaur’s durability and yet, quite revolted by his odd… Habits along the way. For one thing he had no idea why the brute insisted on making fires, the hungry flames piercing fear into his heart, if Kelec knew what flames meant to some upon the mountain, maybe he wouldn’t have been so eager to use them. d’Artagnan had stayed quite some distance away from them, scowling in a shadow whilst the cold winds had buffeted his rough, ruby coat. His carnivorous side was also a hard picture to swallow, prey like instincts confused by the predators teeth, but a horse’s hide. Aramis, on the other hand, seemed unperturbed and often sat back on his haunches, drool cascading from hungry lips. To which d’Artagnan had called him a turncoat and had gone to stand out on the snowy plains, content in his own company. The rest of the way was quiet, his companion becoming more attentive to his surroundings and less inclined to talk. Until they had reached the Basin, that was.

A small smile appeared on his face at Kelec’s observation and he contemplated the question whilst gazing around himself. It was big. Bigger than it was before in herd terms. The foundations set in the Edge had been translated well to the Basin and flourished, if only that had been enough to win the two battles they so needed to have won. "Who knows, a lot of unicorns and a few unlucky prisoners no doubt. One could never keep track, though I can’t say I try to." He quietly replied, the shade struggled to remember the oldest of names never mind the names of those who have just arrived. Memory aside, his gaze snapped to the approaching dark shade, the powerful loins of a stallion well honed in battle, the penetrating gaze of a death dealer. General Deimos the Reaper. A fearful creature indeed, but the Doctor’s heart did not falter in beat, he did not tremble before the devil that came towards them. A profound respect, yes, but death was a release, not a punishment. Deimos gifted freedom in a touch, a relief from life’s desperate grasp. It was something to be celebrated, not feared. Thoughts of battle returned, he had been wondering what his reception would be, but he would find nothing from the General. d’Artagnan had never been able to read that gaze.

Before he could answer, however, another dark face appeared. This one smaller, looked like he was Deimos’ younger, less intimidating, brother with a voice that only managed a murmur speaking strange words, like Lefiri. d’Artagnan’s cold, sharp gaze turns on the boy, pools narrowing is if he was trying to lift the answer from his mind. "You. Speak. He calls himself a Centaur, you call him a Lefiri, explain." His face was set in a grim line, his voice low and powerful, Aramis flashed golden eyes from around his companion’s legs.

In the time they had been talking the Lady of the fine chilly manor had appeared, her lithe limbs splashed in precious colour and d’Artagnan marvelled at the crowd that was slowly gathering. A stir indeed. He meets her curious stare with one of emptiness, the vacant gaze of a monster asleep. "Maybe I was in a giving mood and thought I’d bring my Lady something exotic to play with" his words, however, slid over one another in sleek dark tones, dashed with black hearted humour. The Nightshade’s usual insinuating tones.

The Mender fell silent then, listening as Illynx informed the half horse on numbers and his hairy head, returning her consolation with a deepening frown. He did not want her comfort, the unspoken words of sorrow for his current situation, he would sooner walk off the old misty cliff before he cracked to grief and misery. He spared one last look, however, for the other mare who was there. Silent in her words, but known in her presence. The shade searched the back of his mind, there was a name to her blue face, Huyana was it? He had never spoken to her, only acknowledged, as he did now with a small smile and a firm nod.

[Image: y1dxk1i.png]

my heart’s an endless winter
              filled with rage

Use force at your own peril ;) please tag me!

Kelec Posts: 18
Aurora Basin Crafter
Stallion :: Other :: 18 hh :: 24 Buff: NOVICE
Adoptable
#8
It seemed their arrival had created quite a stir within the hidden vale. Perhaps as intrigued by them as they were of him, Kelec watched with growing awe as one beautiful creature after another emerged from the depths of the landscape, summoned by the blood-bay's call and their own curiosity. A tall, dark gray stallion followed by a similar but less intimidating comrade immediately drew the gaze of the ginger, made the smile fade on his lips. There was something ominous about him, something in the air that warned him about getting too close. The gold-dusted mare that followed commanded attention too, but in a different way; there was no mistaking the dominance in her gaze, and it was only made clearer as she deigned to speak. A Lady indeed, and one he would have to keep on the good side of. And finally, a slender wisp of a mare came padding a bit after the rest, gray as a rainy afternoon and with the same gentle steps as the tapping of water upon a closed window. She remained silent where the rest had chosen to speak, and where he had greeted the others with a respectful nod, she alone brought back the smile to his face.

"It is an honor to be greeted by such an impressive delegation" he smiled, bending low in a bow before the leading mare. It was quite a feat considering his strange exterior; as a front leg knelt the other slid forth along the snowy ground the man bowed from the waist with one hand on the chest and the other behind the back, dipping the head so low that it almost touched the ground. It could have seemed awkward and clumsy, but the balance and strength of the centaur was excellent, and rather than bringing shame to him it served as a gentle confirmation of Illynx's guess; he was indeed very strong, and flexible.

Rising up again the clear blue eyes went from d'Artagnan to the young grullo as their informations clashed; a glimpse of interest could be seen in the gaze, but rather than remaining silent and finding out how indeed the unicorn could know anything about his kind, he held out a hand as if to calm the glass-horned down.
"We have many names, my friend" he reassured. "Centaur is but one of many; we are the Polkan, the Ceffyl Dûr, Kinnaras... and indeed, Lefiri. It has been a very long time since I heard that particular one however..." The head of the half-horse turned and settled upon the strangely knowledgeable unicorn, thoughtful and penetrating, unwavering; the kind of scrutinizing gaze that easily made others squirm and shrink back without really knowing why.

"My name, however" he continued after a while and returned his attention to Illynx, "is Kelec, son of Falmach, from Síochána Dál to the far east. I am here because d'Artagnan offered me a chance to find shelter and build a home. Now I ask ye, Lady Illynx of Aurora Basin; would you permit my living within this beautiful valley?"

The snow crunched beneath the weight of his hooves as the mismatched creature stirred, patient yet alert as he waited for the unicorns to mull over his request. He didn't have great hopes. The brief words exchanged between themselves and the bay that lead him here, the sharp eyes and the seasoned look of both stallions and mares led him to guess that this wasn't a herd that accepted just anyone. Rightfully so, of course, but it made his situation all the more precarious. Not only was he a stranger, but he was a stranger that now knew the location of their hard-to-find base, he was a stranger whose purpose was unknown. The scenario where he was accepted would be the only one that truly benefited him - even if it meant he would have to follow the orders of these horned ones. No matter how fast or strong he was, there was no way he could outrun an entire flock of swift, lithe and heavily armed horses...

He didn't regret his decision to come to the north, however. The climate might be cold and unforgiving despite it already being springtime, but those things were easily adjusted - and if it meant he could live within the mountains again the chestnut wasn't going to hesitate. It only depended on what the final verdict would be.

Deimos the Reaper Posts: 527
Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB
Heather
#9
Lefiri. Centaur. Polkan. The names filtered into his cranium and he severed their fluttering repose and tranquility, sought to savor the edges of the newfound knowledge, intertwine and command its fluctuating traces of interest and intrigue. His attention remained rapt upon the armed figure before them, and he barely saluted or addressed the appearance of others, except for Huyana, who received minimal scrutiny, a twist of his stone lips, and only permitted the brutality of his cold-blooded intentions to brew in their malevolent distortions thereafter. This creature, with his mastery of fingers, with the tumbling, unfolding limbs, with the lofty, possessive height, could do many things for them: foster, render, concoct and compose weaponry, armor, shields for their vulnerable flesh, annihilate and persecute enemies with the raw decadence of his power, the mighty, clambering fortitude of his burly, mountainous mass. Though an anomaly, though a strange, fixating sight, the Reaper didn’t yearn to misplace the opportunity to enhance their prowess, their stronghold, their suddenly, weakened, fumbling status. Too many times they’d faced the burden of their brutality, had sought to puncture, to lacerate, to pierce, and found their efforts maimed, torn, shredded and broken into scattered remnants of pernicious, puissant condemnation. It would be foolish to throw away and waste an auspicious occasion, when manipulation, when machinations, when Machiavellian schemes could be unearthed, created and orchestrated. Could this Kelec, with his odd, peculiar movements, with his balance, strength and intelligence, hopefully another enduring portion, be a soul to assist in their clamor for upheaval, for insurrection, for revolution, for rebellion and subversions? Or would they have to blindfold his sights, push him towards demise, towards fatality, for the exposition of all their secrets, all their sights, all their ambitions and aspirations? Did the others endorse and advocate the centaur’s abilities, watch with awe, or merely wait for the cruel, slashing jurisdiction to pass, witnesses to another infernal consignment to oblivion? The demanding stag, with all of his potent, ravenous rapture, tilted his head, his lancing gaze only pinpointed and keen upon the otherworldly creature, addressed the gathering with his abrupt, rancorous tone, with the weight of his sanction and authorization pervading the imminent, augured surroundings. “I approve.” And though he was not the final decision, for that seemed to rest solely upon the gilded mare’s shoulders, he noted potential, commended possibility, and permitted his mind to drift with the savage notions of probability, of future sieges and assaults with ominous intentions.

DEIMOS
delivered from the blast
last from a line of lasts
and now the kingdom comes crashing down undone
background pattern by webtreatsetc.deviantart.com
image credits

Carnesîr Posts: 60
Hidden Account atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2 :: 3 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
wanda
#10
More come, as drawn to the unusual animal as moths to a flame. There is a mare, sleek and gold and the color of sodden wood, whom the red stallion addresses as 'Lady'. The unicorn boy broods over this for a long minute, turning around the new piece of information he has collected today. He would need to seek out this Lady, ask her for more information- when she had acquired her title, how, and who she had succeeded... nonetheless, that could come later in a time less full of foreigners. Soon, his attention is stolen by Huyana, the rain girl who retrieved him, saved him from the forest and brought him to the wintry clutches of the heart of the north. For a moment Carnesîr considers greeting her, lips parting gently, before he halts, the words sticking to his tongue. It would only disrupt the meeting, the yearling reasons, and besides, maybe she saves lost souls all the time... there is no reason for attachment between them, even the kindling of simple companionship and easy hearts.

Words are exchanged, firing back and forth, ricocheting bullets that could quite easy pierce the wrong heart. There is a strong sense of curiosity in Carnesîr's eyes, an inquisitive sparkle that turns sharp as a sword-blade with what comes next despite the initial terror.

You. It is the stallion, and the boy leaps into the air, quite literally jumping a half-foot off the ground, whites of his eyes momentarily shining in the crisp air. Fear scorches his heart, an anxiety misplaced but difficult to rid himself of. His lips lock, more automatically than out of any stubbornness, and cowed the yearling ducks his head, tail curling between his legs, much too jumpy altogether. Thankfully, he is saved by the burning gaze of the glass-horned stallion by the lefiri itself, calming words accompanied by the gestures of the claw-like hands. Those eyes, put on the front of the face- he takes note of this with a twinge of unease, for only predators have the eyes at the front of their face- are calm and introspective, examining him as if stripping him down to his soul. Leave me alone, the stallion thinks to himself, eyes on his cleft hooves.

Illynx- he folds the name away, and keeps the lefiri's, the centuar's- Kelec. A short name, but the hard sound of the 'k' is difficult to pronounce for the stallion used to the flowing 'e's, 'l's, and 'o's.

Approval and the seeking of acceptance comes next, and the elvish boy keeps quiet, shifting towards Huyana, drifting towards the comfort of her familiar gray flanks.


Illynx the GildedBlade Posts: 413
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 13 HP: 67.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Kyst :: Common Griffon :: Zapping Jab Bunnie
#11
Her smile gained splendor under the equally dark commentary of the good doctor, gilded orbs twinkling bemusedly at the placid expression of the bay in comparison to the delicately laced humor of his statement. "A fine prize, indeed," simpered the regal woman with a devilish grin that faded as her gaze tore away from D'art, her attentions turning to the words of the others who had arrived to welcome the stranger, as well as the stranger himself. Her features slipped around to observe Huyana's arrival as her ears remained locked on the individual voices sounding out, the traditionally built unicorn silent as storm clouds, a piece of her character that Illynx was beginning to understand to be a part of the blue mare's nature. It was not to be said that it didn't make her nervous; it did. Nearly overly chatty herself, the silence of the female was unnerving in a way that she could not explain, a similar sensation to that which overtook her when she found herself forced to stand in proximity to Deimos.

Perhaps, it was respect that disquieted her insides so; more likely, it was her absolute inability to understand things that were not as she was.

The sound of the red maned humanoid creature... thing drew her eyes away from the Scholar and back to his strange face, her smile subtle and guarded at his words but blooming into full fledged happiness as his form bent over in an awkward but still visually pleasing display. It did indeed confirm her suspicions that he was strong and able; such a movement surely required intense strength of the chest and limbs, and as easily as he returned to an upright posture the mare could deduce that there were only gains to be had from such a beast, and with more conviction than she might have before this revelation, she gave her own slight bow to the stranger in the form of a deep nod of her golden crown.

Her lips split to reply to Kelec just as D'artagnan's voice broke over them all, the Lady pivoting her gaze to look with wide eyed surprise at the underlying ferocity in the doctor's normally placid tone. The half horse lifted one of his strange claws from his side, presenting it almost as if it was a minuscule wall between the Nightshade's outcry and the scholar who had dared call the creature something he had not already called himself. Curiosity nestled itself into her features, her amusement writ clear as day across her features at the small disturbance in the group. Even more fun than the doctor or the centaur was the way the stallion who had called the creature Lefiri leaped into the air at being called out so suddenly, his youth and anxieties shining through what had previously been a rather stoic facade. Luckily for Carnesir, however, the Lefiri himself defended the claim he had made, proving the Reaper's companion to be no liar as a long stream of incomprehensible and bizarre titles for the odd assemblage of creature that he was.

Lefiri it would be. At least that was only three syllables and didn't make her feel as if she was choking on her own tongue as she silently reiterated them to herself after each word drew to a close.

Once more, her focus returned to the centaur, who called himself Kelec, listing off his lineage (of no importance to her, he was not a unicorn and was thus entirely alien to the bitch) and realm of origin, which she took the time to set away in the back of her mind. It may come of some use later, to know the name of the land from which such oddities hailed, where ever it may be to the east. She heard his request but gave it no immediate response, instead slipping her eyes around to the silent and predatory Deimos, seeking his reaction to such a notion before providing her own answer.

"I approve," the shadow cloaked stallion rumbled, to which her smile gained in brilliance (how it was possible, I do not know) and her eyes returned their glimmering stare back to the nervously shuffling Kelec. A long pause filled the air, the Lady sweeping her eyes one last time across the strange composition of the male, a lingering glance allowed the doctor before she passed her first true movement as a Lady of the Basin. "Welcome home, Kelec," she stated, coyly glancing at the red haired being from eyes that were squinting shut under the shifting of the sun, which had reappeared from behind a cloud and was now partially blinding her, "should anyone offer you trouble, do let me know?"

She was sure it would more than likely come to pass, knowing all to well those who resided upon the mountain with her, and while she felt some trepidation for how the herd would respond to the unique man, she would make damn well and sure that Kelec was left to live as he wished upon the mountain.
Magic/assault allowed to be used on Illynx at any time, in so far as it does not kill or seriously maim her without my permission. 


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