the Rift


[OPEN] Kaleidoscope.

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#1



  Sage</style>
                     My sun sets to rise again.</style>
All legs and no sense of jest written across her perfectly sculpted face, Sage still feels the sting of many injuries. Whatever that happened to that little chocolate bitch is not known by her; all the champagne colored beauty is aware of is that Mirage is still queen here.

And a damn good one, at that.

Whatever aching body she held, no matter the way her gait faulted, the golden girl is proud of being able to defend the home of such a great leader. The den of Dragons, that is what the World's Edge had become, but not just because of the leader and her main squeeze (which, for your information, the beauty has no idea of just yet). The inhabitants of the World's Edge all had scales and claws and breathed fire, just not maybe in the way one might expect. Even the pristine image of girlish beauty to be seen in our palomino warrior can be twisted into the beastial vengeance of an angered drake. Make no mistake here, the World's Edge is well-guarded.

Still, the mare is more than a little disappointed that the challenge for her home came at a time when she was literally in the middle of getting what was rightfully hers until proved otherwise. Some day, she would have to fight tooth and hoof for her old position as WingLeader, but Sage is now wise the the threat of the North. Their icy breath prickles from above, causing her to be more or less irritated each and every day. Impatient for action to be taken. They may have impressive numbers, but even they were not able to conquer this home.

The Qian's heart outnumbered the hordes of brainless idiots inhabiting the North. You can always gather more strong hearted people to your cause, but, frankly, you just cannot do anything about stupid.

The problem here lies in the fact that stupid breeds quickly, from Sage's apt experience, and the idea of battling 50 buffoons running with swords taped to their heads would be terrifying to anyone. As a result, the golden beauty rushes about the forest, her body dodging tree trunks by mere inches as she races through, feathers brushing against the rough bark, hooves digging deep into the moss, the mists swirling about her legs in a mystical dance. Sharp, shuttering breaths ring out; this practice has been going on since early morn, well before the sun rose above the horizon. The lithe frame of the golden beauty is laden with sweat, making her dual-toned and smelling like the salty sea.

After a few more paces, the mare is nearly brought face to face with the ocean, her legs locking, hooves skidding. Rocks fly off the edge of an abrupt fall, and the mare simply flares her wings in response. Nostrils flair, air flushing from her chest, lowering her neck toward the ground to let out a shuddering breath.

Training is difficult, even if it has been your life for years.

@[Rishima] and @[Brisa]


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NPC Posts: 298
User-based Random Event
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#2
What Sage said was true- indeed the edge, cloaked in mist and now become a land of fable and of legend for Mirage, was full of dragons. Not all had claws, nor scales, nor the broad wings- but still, within every heart was bravery difficult to match.

From the skies the dragon had watched as Mirage slayed her opponent; the dragon watched as the Qian fought back those they had taken the land from, and watched as they emerged victorious once again. This dragon, a lord of dragons but no king or queen, had not a doubt throughout, instead watching with a quiet and vivacious pride as it's own distant draconic family fought and waged war with all the ferocity of a much larger opponent (although without doubt they were, already, incredibly intimidating despite their more diminutive size.) He went unnoticed, perhaps due to the distraction of battle, despite his large size and savage jeweled eyes.

'He' was a dragon of roughly six feet tall, with claws that sunk deep into the earth and chewed up the ground, all hard muscle bound in a raiment of thick, glorious bronze scales that shimmered with a lustrous shine that changed faint colors. The beast had translucent wings that could blot out the sky, clapped in pulsating veins and almost grotesquely chiseled muscle. His long, serpentine tail curved around him, coming to a razor, ivory point that could easily sheer through trees. His face was cleanly cut, almost horse-like, but with a number of large horns, Spines ran down his back, and smoke rose from his nostrils perpetually. Between his claws old meat festered and rotted, unable to be cleaned out- but despite this, overall his image was one of magnificence and raw savagery.

He watched as the battle trickled to a halt and those with horns on their heads fled.

With a rumbling growl, the plates of his natural armour locked tightly into place (rather like a roman battleshield line) while still retaining a fluidity. The dragon lord, named Iqueris, was young, only thirteen years of age. Still, he watched over his draconic brethren with careful eyes that missed nothing.

The dragon's wings bend the treetops, swirling the leaves as he descends from the sky to the edge of the cliffs, questioning eyes finding the palomino mare he sought. He landed with a thud that shook the earth. More soil and rocks tumbled from the edge into oblivion as he moved forth towards Sage, huge wings folding to his flanks with a soft rustling sound rather like musty paper. Smoke curled from his nostrils, and warmth pulsated off him. Deep scratches bore into the earth where he stepped.

"Hullo," Iqueris rumbles curiously, sparkling copper eyes shining with an odd light.



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