the Rift


[OPEN] It's A Dirty World

Adrixaura Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#1


A d r i x a u r a
hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die,
then life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.
She's found something devious to settle such a dark mind upon in the recent passing of days, letting her time be spent alone and without the bother of other's obnoxious opinions. They all act like they one way or another give a care about each other, having to fake every little smile and giving out half-hearted laughs when they're forced to listen the sad jokes from their companions. Time away got her to the point, and right words from her grandfather and father left her in the right state of mind.
Adrixaura was happy and content with herself, and sick of the world.
Her footfalls are more normal now, growing used to how she shall limp for the rest of her life. Where were the ones that she went so bravely into battle for to save and came out mortally wounded? No where. Every single one of them left her and she left them. This was the whole reason she took time away from the lands, mainly because the weather here did a lot of drugs and everyone wanted to play king and queen. It was so much nicer to play the little thief that runs back and forth between the kingdoms to make dirty work and sell their secrets to the emeny for a good buck. She had every motive do that, and was fine with doing that.
And that is how we find Adrixaura happy and content with herself.
A border long forgotten comes to her, smelling of the earth scent that fills it to the brim. The Foothills and everything about it made her stomach curl into knots and want to push itself into a pit within her body. She fought it and won, coming with victory as she strolls along the outer edges of their border with laughter in her voice.
"Oh Apollo......! Oh Apollo...! Do you hear me...?! It's little old me!" One laugh finally escapes, coming out clearly in cool dawn air. It echoes off the trees and fades deeper into the herdland that she threatens the border of. "Oh, someone please tell me that The Grey still stands powerful here! It'd be a sad thing to watch my favourite not so small band lose such a beautiful home!"
The teasing refuses to end, her head held high with those daunting eyes closed. Lips spread with words singing out of them, her pace is an odd skip. They'd for sure notice that she was limping, but maybe not the nasty scar on her right hind cannon. Her head tosses to the side with her next teasing call to the band that resides there and to it's loyal members.
"The Grey! The Grey! A band that lives in the Windtossed Foothills who refuses to answer my beautiful call today! Come get your wake up call because the little girl with the newspapers needs to make her sales! Hear my call, for Adrixaura is here to find everyone of you today!"
Everything that spills from her mouth is liable to have her killed, but if she was to go with a bang, then let it be. She'd still go down fighting if it meant getting her devious plot going.

OOC: Adri is here to offer The Foothills her alliance, upon she be allowed to pop into the Foothills when she needs some help or feels needed.
She will also notify The Grey as of the loss of the Assassins, and how she has brought herself from them to begin a dirty series of tricks to the herdlands where if the Foothills takes her offered alliance, will always be on the good end of a deal.
image credits
table by whit

Apollo the Merciful Posts: 251
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 11 HP: 63.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zola :: Black Cat :: None Sparrow
#2

For One More Day, I'm Not Afraid to Fall

Those sickening sweet lyrics are what caught his attention at first. Apollo paused mid-stride from his daily patrols, nostrils flaring as that dastardly voice sang across the air. A summons, but not like the one that Confutatis had called for him. That alone was reassuring to hear, but... Stopping in the midst of his patrol along the borders, the Merciful turned to head towards the annoying maggot-like vocals, soulful honey-brown eyes locking upon the creature who stood like a sleuth along the lines of their borders.

... At least she has the smarts to stand there.

As he approached, Apollo's ears pinned back, his eyes hardening. It was an odd look for one who called himself the Merciful and for one who loathed violence, but he knew this mare... Adrixaura, of the Assassins. While Apollo had welcomed Tonka and Chemical, called them brother and sister, honestly, this female was far too haughty for his liking. She would do nothing for his herd, his family, with her prissy attitude like a stick was shoved too far up her ass to be removed.

"You summon the Grey," Apollo began, his voice lacking the warmth that it usually did whenever speaking to a stranger, or a member of his family. There was icy mis-trust in his tone, and rightfully so; since being challenged for his crown by Confutatits, Apollo was less giving, and less trusting. "Yet the Grey no longer reside here. I served the mighty band of mercenaries during their golden era, mare, as their Medic... But now the Grey has gone with the departure Ophelia and Ktulu."

He snorted, tail smacking against his hip as he flicked it. It was a warning, and indicator to his impatience. Do not push me, mare... I'm in a sour mood.

"In its place stands us, a herd, a family of the Foothills. I lead them as their Chief, alongside my sister in govern Phaedra, but do not be fooled; the Grey has gone, but we are still strong." Apollo was annoyed by her, and bored. He was growing tired of these games, of these individuals who would simply waltz into their home and demand something, like it was owed to them. So, as simply as they strode to their borders, Apollo asked in return:

"What do you want?"

For One More Day, We Try to Save it All


I Just Want You To Know Who I Am

Please Tag Apollo in All Posts!

Brighid Posts: 20
Hidden Falls Tiro
Mare :: Pegasus :: 17.2 :: 9 Buff: NOVICE
aeolle
#3
Encroachment upon province was added to the priced sum of arbitrary destruction, desolation, extermination and departure from umbra received as a bestowal upon the decrepit build in which they had been so savagely born into, for many, the lull of persecution and anguish that was shown as bold scars across terracotta frame was not taken from them so simply. She wonders, marvels, insights upon why and in which law have wanderers found it rightful to crawl across the Foothills borderlines (never the mind most had not stepped foot across the invisible barrier in which she deems so sacred), she is piqued with interest (resentment) at baleful eyes and arrogant children, and she will observe them as the insects the are before smashing the ants with the sole of her boots. The Foothills is not a crying, whimpering babe, not whilst the Princess Earth of Elysia stands among their ranks, no, and wounded pride may be with burns and ache of a swollen and bruised back she canters forth to the caw of a noisy bird that begs to be put out of it's misery as a slobbering canine littered with rabies is cursed to befall doom. A mercy killing, for a life that has no reason to go on, a life unsuitable for the land of the breathing, the fit, for this is a survival of the fittest and the Princess was brought up iron-clad and iron-bred. Benevolence did not run in her steel veins, nor were armies born from gentle encouragement and kind hearts.
Champions were born from grit and dust, hard work and sweat, and the Princess of Elysia was a mix of all infernal four.

Her shadow looms before her, long and outstretching, grasping greedy fingers towards petite frames, minuscule in comparison to the Princesses' wraith, accursed in that one smelt of the Foothills and one smelt of the Wild's. One may take a clever gander at which spurred the largest amount of distaste (she'll give you a hint, it wasn't the one with the cerulean stick that jutted from his brow).
Oh, no, as she slowed to that just enough that Earth and dirt sprayed upwards in a froth similar to the foam of the sea's waves, she found that she appreciated that at least one of their civilians had the gall and gut's to stand up to a meager vagabond, freckled as she was, the Princess sized her up as a wolf may size up it's next meal. Gleaming bronze riddled with ire, foul and plain dislike that rose a acidic flavor underneath a widespread, rosy tongue. She already despised the freckly faced brat that shoved her nostrils at the borders of her homeland with the foolishness of a spoiled rich woman's childe, given far too many sweets for anything other then haughty domes, a repulsion to any whom came to greet them with good tidings in mind and hoof. What this pretty girl needed was a none too subtle kick on the backside out the front porch of her house, and she would gain manners quite soon after that.
The Princess of Elysia believed brat's needed training like dog's, not equines, not that which gathers enough brain to shut up and not spew forth nonsense from their over-sized lungs.
Stupid kid.

And then, as if begging her to guffaw, her companion on the right side of the borders spoke the word's she had said so very many times since coming to this Kingdom.
"What do you want?"

The Princess did not laugh, however, did not mock the childe that sat at their borders before them, did not crack a dry smile upon drier lips.
The Princess allowed a cold, icy river to flood forth from her maw, accented with the language of her motherland, harsh and firm and lilting.
"State your business, kid, or leave this premises at once."




Brighid</style>
PUT ON YOUR WAR PAINT</style>
Credits
BURTN : XROCKINROBYNSTOCK : CHUNGA-STOCK : GALAXIESANDDUST</style>

Adrixaura Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#4


A d r i x a u r a
hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die,
then life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.
Patientance is a joke to the mare, becoming a thin thread steadily burned by a flame held close. When she's about to turn back and walk off, someone finally answers the door to her needy calls. "Apollo..... It's good to see you. I have important speaking matters that can greatly benefit you, if you want the offer." A smirk slips across her face, blue eyes looked to his horn and the annoyed expression that takes over his face. Her mouth is already open when the next one comes along when they are not being called to.
"Excuse me Birdie, but what I need to speak to Apollo about is a personal issue that I doubt you want to get involved in. Though if you wish to stay and listen with your leader, keep your tongue still and if you feel your opinion is needed, you may offer it.
"Other than that, the words you hear now will be kept in your brain and never to be spoken again unless it is Apollo or me. I am Adrixaura, by the way."

Time away had settled a hateful tone, faded into ashes when her sire and dam screamed upon her for the scar that now haunted her strolls and left ugly hoofprints in the snow that she was so accustomed to.
"It is a sad thing for me to say this, but the Assassins have fallen. Towards the end, I sensed all the drama that was going to collapse the band. My alliance to them is over and I have no intentions to try to revive them. I've found a more devious, dark thing to set my abilities towards, and seeing as you and your family were there for my family when we needed you, I have an offer that will greatly help you."
A pause falls in between them, her eyes casting towards the winged mare while she shifts weight off her scarred leg. Pain was beginning to sow seeds in the bone and muscle there, leading to heavy discomfort. Nerves come alive to meet her with a sucker punch to the face and ends with a wince on her face. She refuses to hide it; her potential allies would know all of her flaws at some point, and it was best she didn't try to hide them now.
"Within me, I've always had something against the herd. I doubt you were ever around to know, but I birthed my child here after a certainly nasty and heated debate with a member of your herd named Knox. I never took the time to thank you for that. So now, thank you for allowing me to birth my firstborn here.
"My precious child has been swoped up and has decided that herd life would get her further in life than what I could offer her, and I think this is something that has struck me. I have no intentions of joining a herd, but have more interest in something else.
"Herds and outcast bands have their dirty little secrets, skeletons pushed into the darkest corners of their closets that are tried to forget even they rattle their bones when guests come to visit. Do not lie to me when I say that even your herd has dirty secrets, whether you know of them or not. Though it is not your dirty secrets that I want to get into."

More time is offered to him so that he might ruffle through the words she is speaking and think them through. If he is smart like herd leads are expected to be, he'll get what she's saying after a while.
"Apollo, I am willing to offer you and the Foothills my alliance. In that, I will offer you something that can help greatly in your time of need. While I take my time snooping around in the herds' business and getting secrets, I will bring them back to you. I'll tell you what I know and you may speak to your high ranking officials over this and work out what will be most helpful to the greater good. If you feel that you need information about a certain outcast band, outcast, herd, herd member, you're getting the point here, right?, I will personally go out and get it for you.
"Sounds nice, doesn't it?"

Pulling herself back and looking to the winged mare, she gifts her a true, genuine smile. "You may give your lead your opinion on this if you think he needs it. This is a very big thing to think through."
It all slides to a sigh, her head lowered and the stern expression that overtook her face before fading off. Falling to the lower points, she knows this will be a hard thing for her to ask.
"Apollo, though it is absolutely rude for me to ask this, in return for all that I offer you, I ask for a few things that you can surely spare. If I shall fall into a spot that I cannot get myself out of, I ask that you send help that can be spared to get me out of there. The Grey was the only band to pay much attention to me and try to kidnap me, and my harsh actions then probably ended it there.
"I would also like to ask that I be allowed to speak to your intelligence when I believe that there are things that can be useful to your family when I personally can't get to that. With all of this, I'd like to know if I may occasionally stay within your borders to rest and in case I need to hide. I'll go around by different names if we fall to this alliance, and you shall always know my different names when I chose a new one."

Though it comes late, everything that she has just spoken begins to click within her head. Her eyes are less of the hate that once filled them, the black fire that resided within her chest is there but she refuses to let it burn at a time like this. Down upon her knees like this, he has the upper hand. She would not chose to rise off of her knees in the idea that he chose to fight her and run her off.
Yet when her gaze goes to the bird, a snort escapes her. You can never trust everyone you meet.
image credits
table by whit

Apollo the Merciful Posts: 251
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 11 HP: 63.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zola :: Black Cat :: None Sparrow
#5

For One More Day, I'm Not Afraid to Fall

Another of his home soon joined, and Apollo glanced to his right to eye the mare who had arrived. A hardy, sturdy thing she seemed to be, a Pegasus full of fire and grit that made up most potential warriors, and briefly Apollo wondered just who she was. It served as a reminder that he did not know many of his own brothers and sisters, during such busy and tumultuous times, but knowing that she stood at his side against this unwanted visitor was reassuring. As he often did, Apollo offered Brighid a respectful nod, then turned his eyes towards Adrixaura. He did not take kindly for the way that the freckled mare treated the Pegasus.

"Whatever you must say to me, mare, you can say to my goodly sister. If it is so important that you would interrupt my patrols, then get on with it."

He didn't have to wait long. Dark ears flicked forward and listened as she spoke... And spoke, and spoke, regaling them with events long-passed. Adrixaura spoke of being able to help them, of offering herself as a traitorous spy of sorts, sneaking and spying upon enemies and allies alike. Immediately Apollo wanted nothing to do with the offer. It was a betrayal of trust that she spouted, and he would never do such a thing to those that he called brothers and sisters. Phaedra served as their intelligence, even with the departure of the Grey, and they were granted their own branches of spies and the like. What would Adrixaura be able to offer them that they could not do themselves?

A snort escaped the Merciful Chief, his eyes hardening. "Adrixaura," he began, his vocals softer than they had been upon his first words to her, "For any pain that you have experienced due to the Grey, I sincerely apologize for, but that is a life that has long-passed. I have told you already; the Grey is no more. I, myself, am the one who dispersed it. The offer that you have given us, here and now, I see as the ultimate act of distrust and betrayal."

He paused only for a moment, an ear flicking back. "I have shed blood for this home, and to gain our allies through respectful acts; with words. Your acts of espionage would do nothing but harm our foundation. If you claim you could steal and swindle secrets from our 'enemies and allies alike', who's to say that you won't give away our secrets for the right price?"

Apollo's head lifted, honey-brown eyes glancing to Brighid to gauge her reaction before he refocused upon Adrixaura. The words that he spoke next were full of muted kindness, as he truly didn't want to send her away in hatred. "I apologize for this wasted time, Adrixaura, but the Foothills will not be accepting your offer."

For One More Day, We Try to Save it All


I Just Want You To Know Who I Am

Please Tag Apollo in All Posts!

Brighid Posts: 20
Hidden Falls Tiro
Mare :: Pegasus :: 17.2 :: 9 Buff: NOVICE
aeolle
#6
A leer seems to crawl across the girl's lips, offensive and grinding, and cerulean gazes upon the stick that raises forth from the man's brow. Fortitude and restraint do not run high in her veins on this eve, and she is well aware of the look of disdain the girl is giving her companion of a lad. It is the same expression that she has sought, pilfered, grown in solitude, brewed among the harsh embers of a long-forgotten fire, the same expression that burns within her heart at the sight of those whom lack feathers at their sides. It scalds, burns, comes across as gratingly rude in a way that is hypocritical, for even she has been known to fall to racism again and again, time and time over, and it is well-known within the midst of a hardened heart that she, one day, too, will go insane as the Queen who birthed her. That does not matter now, when a little girl is looking upon a brother with such annoyance that is is bemusing to the eye, and a curl of the lip expresses her own distaste in return.
But unlike the girl, it is not aimed at the man at her side.

It is aimed at the freckled-face that she loathes with such complete hatred that it is a miracle they do not realize it, step away from the flickering fire that rages within her core, there is a sprig in her wing and there is crusted blood where it has been ripped through to the other side and she just fought two equines and she is sickened by the sight of a haughty lass upon their borders, heightened by the recent attack upon the blackened Pegasus mare that she hopes lives to this very hour.
Oh, how the Princess detest's her, her hideous flesh, the stupid look upon her face, and she would be more then happy to kick her croup to the road if she even dared take a step across the sacred land in which she guards with the fierceness of Elysia's finest. She is a well-oiled machine, built for war, for blood and the pain of those whom come against her, heavy bloodlines and dinner-sized hooves in which to break fragile babes like that which stood before her. Arrogant schoolgirl.

She awaits, shifting, uncomfortable, cracking at the seams with the urge to slam bodies and whip hides into submission. She stares the pretty girl down as she speaks to her, and the boiling anger that resides within her chest almost spills over into a river of insults towards the pretty girl's face (it would be so very easy to lean forward a little and snap the moron's bones), a rumble of warning as she tells her she shall keep the words she listens to her to herself. Ice slushes out of her vocal cords, hoarse from battle, resentful as one whom has the right to be is righteous in infuriation. "You are not my King, nor my Queen, Adrixaura. I will take orders from them alone, and not from a vagabond whom comes to our borders demanding our presence. You are at the borders of our land, lest you forget it, and have no right to demand orders from either of us." A whisper, a nagging tremor of a thought in the back of her mind, a thousand different voices, a thousand different times. The ink slides into her veins as the material of drugs, and it's voice murmurs kill, kill, kill. She registers, dim, in the backlight of her mind, that the man is standing up for her. God's knows she doesn't need it, but perhaps some soft part of her soul left undiscovered appreciates his defensive words.
She refuses.
For the Foothill's sake. Not her own.

No. If it was left up to her, the freckle-face would be in the dirt, tattered and broken as a porcelain doll, tossed aside by a young childe.
Words are spoke, high harks twitching to accommodate each interwoven lyric that spews forth from the doll's maw as such sewer, a disinterested glaze taking over the Princesses' gaze after what seems like millennia of the freckle-face speaking. There's nonsense about the Grey (who are the Grey?) and something about pain and agony and aid, yada yada yada.
Can she crush her skull now?

But no, the pretty girl is asking her opinion, and after she reflects on what the freckle-face has said, she simply twitches a ear towards her companion.
"I don't trust liars, kid. That's what I have to say. I think he can speak for himself."
What?
The Princess wasn't reknowned as the Daughter of Warfare for her politics, darlin', and she never will be. Nor does she want to.
Apollo, or so she assumes is his name, since the pretty faced freckle girl keeps insisting to call him that, speaks soft words to the girl now,
denying claim to what she wishes to take from them, and a blunt jerk of the dome is given in response to his choice of actions. She approves. The Princess doesn't like liars.

She can kick her out now?
"You have your answer." Chocolate and bronze cut as such daggers towards the freckle's dome.
"Troublemaking is for children. You should know better, Adrixaura. Go."




Brighid</style>
PUT ON YOUR WAR PAINT</style>
Credits
BURTN : XROCKINROBYNSTOCK : CHUNGA-STOCK : GALAXIESANDDUST</style>


Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture