"Where brilliance is good and madness is better..."
Helovia Info
Helovia opened in February 2012! We are an active fantasy equine RPG
Where once the world narrowed into naught but gray dust and desolation, the gods called for life. Wielding the elements of fire and light, dark and wind, earth and water, spark and time, they have created Helovia. The realm is set within the mythical globe of Loorien, a planet rich with all variety of creatures and blessed with all manner of magic. Originally populated by nomadic, tribal characters, they've since grown into massive empires saturated with culture and history. Separated into four distinct segments of Helovia, called "The Regions," each band of horse strong enough and capable enough, took up the power and responsibility of leadership. Unicorns, old, wise and mysterious, took to the north, hidden in forests of mists and shadows and rarely making themselves known beyond their cliffs of the World's Edge. Equines, vast, organized and militaristic, split into two, one group went north to the Windtossed Foothills and the other group went south to the Dragon's Throat. Pegasus remained nomadic, making their homes in various parts of The Wilds in a migratory manner. For many generations, the land was peaceful and calm, but peace was never the way of the gods. With a clash of argument, war and bloodshed massacred Helovia, and in the aftermath, the realm was eerily quiet. Now, as newcomers sweep into this land, they are met with the lingering bitterness of the gods and the struggle to reclaim what was lost. Nothing remains safe or certain while sorcerers and soldiers alike brood and bide their time for revenge, honor and glory.
Site Wide Plots
Kaos :: The Beginning of the End ☼ - 6/2017 - Kaos placed Helovia in a time-bubble for a short period of time, but the Helovian gods are fighting back. But Kaos is powerful- far more powerful than anyone thought. This may be the beginning of the end of Helovia as we know it.
Kisamoa :: A New Kind of Kaos ☼ - 3/2017 - Kisamoa asks Helovians to help him restore the Spectral Marsh. Which side will you choose?
Invasions :: All Out War ☼ - 5/2/16 - New layout and the brand new invasion rules are up! Thank you for your patience and we look forward to getting started with this new adventure.
The Rift :: Gods Do Die ☼ - 8/2015 - Helovia Gods are saving the Rift from corrupt gods! Can Helovians band together against these foreign deities?
The Literal Ship ☼ - 2/8/15 - Oh no! You have to pair up for Valentine's day!
Sky Island :: Murder ☼ - 10/25/14 - Vesta has been found dead on the island, and the gods have called to you to solve the murder!
Sky Island :: Peace ☼ - 7/7/14 - An island has appeared in the sky! Clouds carry Helovians from the Veins to the sky.
Restoration :: We Welcome the Dawn ☼ - 9/21/13 - The sun has finally risen on this day, giving the land new light, but the Time God and the Sun God have yet to be seen.
Endless Night :: Broken Magic Plot ☼ - 8/30/13 - The earth god has returned and is walking across Helovia to heal the land. Every area can now be considered lush and prosperous, but the sun has still not risen.
☼ - 7/19/13 - The moon has risen in the sky, heralding the return of the Goddess of the moon. Lamp trees which light the paths have grown brighter, moon flowers which grow in dark places have begun to grow and prosper and the world is brighter, filled with a new hope.
Endless Night :: Dead Magic Plot ☼ - 6/22/13 - The gods of Helovia, in order to protect the world, have disappeared into the rift, leaving the world sunless, moonless and magic-less in their absence. Only the herdlands have a source of light, but lamp-trees with glowing leaves and branches sporadically line the popular roads and paths from place to place.
Doppleganger Plot ☼ - 6/20/13 - The God of Time is still struggling to close the rift though which the dopplegangers have come. He has requested that his brothers and sister assist in closing this hole, but without knowing why it opened, the task is proving difficult. Magic still remains faulty and hard to control, but the herdlands continue to be places of refuge for those who are fortunate enough to call these lands home.
ORANGEMOON cools off the lands with a a viscious force. Colder than normal, a sign of things to come during Frostfall, Helovia is bathed in a rich tropical lushness - albiet a cold one. The coastlines of the Dragon's Throat are pelted constantly by tidal waves, and the desert climate is humid but chilly. Ice begins to form early in the Aurora Basin leaving the winding trails slick and dangerous. The mists of the World's Edge coat everything in a glistening crystalline shine which encourages mould to grow everywhere. The Spectral Marsh is the only area which remains fertile, blissfully temperature and lush.
Cotm
Character of the Month for
June, 2017
WEAVER, Corporal of the Aurora Basin, is a relatively recent addition to Helovia and has taken it by storm. Branded with the seal of Death on her chest, intrigue and interest follow both her past and present. Though she is assuredly beautiful, her sometimes sharp personality reveals that there is more to this uni-peg hybrid than meets the eye. Proving herself able on the battlefield in the Basin’s warrior ranks, we can’t wait to see her test her mettle against the looming Kaos happenings! Congratulations!
Helovia RPG was created by Tamme and Blu and coded by Tamme also known as Schwartze. All coding, palettes and imagery are copyrighted to the website and are not for use outside of Helovia. Thank you to our ServerMaster for hosting Helovia. A special thanks goes to Neo for all of her coding help and fixing Tamme's errors, Boom, for her loyal service and creation of the Time God, and to Ali for her consistent contributions and dedication.
It was basically pure luck that he had found his way here, not that Crake would admit that. He had been on the run – fully intending to leave Helovia the way he entered - when he spotted a stranger slip underneath the earth. Upon further investigation, there seemed to be some caves hidden underneath the surface. Well now. Hopefully this wasn’t any sort of hallucination because it’d probably be pretty painful walking into a cavern that didn’t exist.
He wondered if this was where everyone was hiding – it certainly smelt like there were high quantities of horses living and pooping down there. Maybe he should find the rest of ‘his herd’ and let them know what happened to the Basin.
Naw, they probably already knew. If not they would find out eventually. He wasn’t a messenger boy.
He slid down the rocky slope in the most ungraceful and undignified of manners, stumbling and losing his balance when he reached the bottom. Well, that was great – the entire population of Helovia was probably down here judging from the smell and he was a complete idiot in front of them all. Luckily, a quick glance around showed that he was quite alone in the immediate vicinity. Maybe some dignity would be salvaged.
The white and purple colt scrambled to his feet, noting the little piece of purple crystal on the floor that meant the tip of his horn had chipped off during the fall. Well, he always wanted to see whether it would grow back. Now he had his chance. In a moment of curiosity he bent down and picked up the inch-long piece with his mouth and tried to chomp on it – but it was too hard so he spat it back out again.
How disappointed. He always wondered whether it would taste good or not. It didn’t really taste like anything.
Now, considering he was pretty sure everything that had happened recently was the effect of a really poor food choice that induced hallucinations and terrible, terrible nightmares – the fact that there were so many others down here really made him wonder. Was there actually a party going on? Or were they hiding from something? Surely they weren’t hiding from him, that’d be a little rude. He hadn’t even met anyone really.
Maybe Ruby was around somewhere and could explain things.
The cut along his side and his legs hurt from what they had been put through but standing around wouldn’t accomplish anything. So into the smelly cave we go!
The shadows danced a soothing minuet against the cool walls near the cave's opening; the soft beams of natural light and the dispersed glow from the lava buried beyond twirled each other about with unexpected grace. This darkness was twisted in the warm tones of fire and sun. It was black, but it was black with a golden quality to it that seemed somehow misplaced in the subterranean world that cried out for cool tones. Misplaced as this reddish darkness may have been, it certainly provided exceptional camouflage for a rusty dark bay mare. And so Moniz hid.
She would not have called it hiding, of course. It was a reconnaissance mission - she was gathering vital intelligence on the creatures whose upturned world she had happened upon. Biding her time, observing the dynamics, scouting out potential weakness, finding the souls particularly vulnerable to the unique brand of torment she loved to inflict…
But really, she was hiding. To hide (verb) - to conceal from view or discovery.
The ruckus of displaced rocks drew her attention. With idle curiosity, she flicked her small ears towards the shaft of light that marked the entrance to the underground network of caves. A blur of white and purple horseflesh careened its way down into the hole - a mighty contrast to the careful creatures she'd observed picking their way along the path with surefooted ease as they went about their business with a hushed and all-important air. At last the body crumpled in a heap on the cave floor with a heavy thud. As soon as it hit the ground, the unnaturally colorful legs began to flail wildly as he recklessly regained his purchase on the slick stone and shot back upright. Even if she had wanted to continue to conceal herself and spare the boy a shred of dignity, she would not have been able to hold back her bemused snort. Besides, where was the fun in that?
Before she could step out of the darkness and reveal herself in a shower of jeers and mockery, the graceless animal had lowered his head and picked up some shiny object between his teeth. Moniz cocked her head, now intrigued. Was there something edible by the entry that she had somehow not known about? How could she have missed that?
No, she reassured herself as the trinket was dropped back to the floor. Thank goodness. She had always prided herself on her ability to sniff out food before anyone else could. She thought herself a master of all things edible, and a transgression such as that would have been terribly damaging to her self-image. Shaking off her short-lived concerns, she scoffed and called out loudly from her hiding place.
“Bravo! Six out of ten.”
Moniz revealed herself with a characteristic smirk, approaching the stranger fearlessly. Her heavy hooves struck the rock floor with resounding clops, a far more substantial noise than a body as small as hers should have been expected to make. In closer earshot, she snarled quietly, “You might have done better, but there wasn’t enough blood. Don’t worry. You can try again.” She paused with mock thoughtfulness before adding contemplatively, “I can give you a push. That may help.”
It was only then that Moniz noticed the purple protrusion coming out of the horse’s forehead. She had been so caught up in her own clever teasing that she hadn’t paused to fully take in the unicorn. As her eyes finally probed the length of his body, she hesitated on his odd feline tail before returning her stare to the spike. “What, did you piss someone off so much they had to stab your face?” She did her best to sound uninterested, but the undercurrent of instinctive curiosity could not be totally quashed. She had never seen anything quite like it. Him?
So the caves smelt like feces AND there were insulting little cretins too! He was already so very glad he was here. Dusky purple eyes pick the figure out as she approached – an older mare, but then anyone older than himself was ancient. He wondered if the arthritis had kicked in yet. “Look lady, if I wanted to be threatened to be pushed down a dangerous slope I would have stuck it out with my mother.” Oryx always did like the more hands-on approach. “And it’s called a horn, dumbass.” Maybe he was better off on the surface where everything smelt of death and was being destroyed. Before continuing on, he took a moment to envision a rather lovely ending where he actually had been impaled by ice on his escape from the Basin. That definitely would have been less painful than this conversation.
Oh, but he probably shouldn’t be mean to those that weren’t as fortunate as he was. “Though considering you’re part of the lesser evolved I really shouldn’t have expected much more.” OH BURN Crake was pretty proud of himself for that little insult and it showed – he couldn’t even keep a serious face, a smile breaking out even before it was said. If he could have, he would have patted himself on the back. As it was, that lion’s tail just sort of swished around and landed a good-hearted slap on his hip.
The biggest crime in this world was that no one seemed to find him as funny as he did.
Changing the subject, though his internal monologue would dwell on that fantastic insult for at least another week, he got back to the original statement – that one rather hurt. “I can’t believe you only gave me a six out of ten. I’m not very good at you know… counting and stuff but I’m pretty sure that’s not very good.” After all, only being able to eat six out of ten apples would have been an insult and quite frankly just rude. The white and purple colt looked back to the entranceway, with all the rocks and things, and still felt he did a pretty decent job. At least he hadn’t broken his neck!
That thoughtful moment passing, he shook his head to dismiss the rest of the thoughts before changing the subject once again - saving the sarcasm for his thoughts this time. “So what’s everyone doing down here anyway?” Secret meetings of underground (literally) societies? A collection of horses that were so dumb they got their kicks from licking cave rock? Or maybe the answer was one of those things combined! It certainly wasn't because something was happening to the surface. That would just be ridiculous.
As soon as the horned twerp began to talk, Moniz rolled her big brown eyes with mock exasperation. Truth be told, she was delighted that she had set him off and earned herself some sort of reaction, even if that reaction happened to be a string of crude insults. But she couldn’t let him know she was enjoying his little tirade – what if he wised up and decided not to indulge her further? The cocky purple-pointed youngster had already provided her with the most entertainment value she had found in the dank, musky caves. What else could she squeeze out of him?
“Perhaps you should’ve stayed with mommy dearest,” Moniz smiled smugly, eager to take her opportunity to mock the colt’s enviable youth. “It seems she hasn’t managed to teach you your manners yet. Allow me to help you out… ‘Hello, ma’am. What’s your name?’ And then I’ll say, ‘I’m Moniz. And what may I call your dumb ass?’” She chuckled in the darkness, a laugh that rumbled with deeper and more masculine tones than seemed appropriate for such a small mare. The noise rose from somewhere further along in her body than her lungs, collecting layers and depth as it made its course towards her sooty nostrils.
As her laughter died down, she caught his next self-pleased barb. A smile cracked over the unicorn’s face, and Moniz mirrored the gesture back at him. How cute.“Yes, clearly your evolutionary advantage has helped you so much, what with your superior balance and tremendous sure-footedness…” Now it was Moniz’s turn to be inordinately pleased with herself. Her smile broadened into a toothy grin that she hoped could convey some sort of sinister intent. Unfortunately for her, it can be awfully tough for a fat pony to come across as particularly frightening. She looked creepy, but it was in more of a, “We probably should skip trick-or-treating at old Miss Muffet’s house this year – she keeps falling asleep naked on her porch” sort of way than she intended.
At his complaint over his low marks, Moniz nodded solemnly. “No, dear, six out of ten is not very good at all.” She flipped her head towards the entrance down which the colt had just tumbled and referenced her initial remark, adding, “I told you I’d be delighted to help you improve…”
But the fun began to wind down. What were they doing down there? Moniz had not learned much yet, either. She had overheard brief, disjointed snippets of hushed conversation, but without context, it was hard to put things together into a cohesive story. Moniz had never enjoyed mental exertion.
The smile finally slid off her face and she flipped her head disinterestedly. “Beats me. Hiding from you? No, don’t flatter yourself, kid – they don’t give a damn about you. Apparently there’s something called a wraith up there and it’s got everyone shitting themselves scared, so they decided to all be scared together in this vile hole. I don’t know. It’s pretty fun to watch everyone being terrified, though. Sometimes you can hear some awfully wicked screaming…” She paused to lick her lips delectably before concluding, “I highly recommend checking it out.” What fun!
02-16-2014, 07:43 PM (This post was last modified: 02-16-2014, 08:48 PM by Crake.)
"Talking"______Thinking
At the mention of ‘mommy dearest’, Crake couldn’t quite repress the little shudder that escaped him. But he was over it fairly quickly, moving on to what would be his favourite quote of the day, he was sure. “Well I’m an independent colt who don’t need no mom. Especially not to teach me manners. How boring.” Who needed manners – this was a chaotic time. Indecent even. Anyone could be a king when they were all crammed into these smelly little caverns. Sure, they weren’t king of much but it was still something. “What is your name anyway?” Because now that she brought it up he was a little curious.
For an old fart, she wasn’t so bad. But then, it was a little early to be making assumptions like whether he was actually enjoying her company or not. Let’s not take things too quickly now – she might get the wrong idea!
“Maybe later, sweetie.” He muttered in response to her offer to help him improve his falling technique. Yeah falling down that slope once was enough – he now had a nice chipped horn because of it.
Plus, he seemed to be boring her with the end to their witty little conversation. Haha it wasn’t actually the end! The funniest part was how quickly she dismissed the idea that no one gave a damn about him. Which, presently, was pretty true – but little did she know how much everyone would have cared just a little while ago.
Okay so he might not believe that what had happened to him recently was real, but considering the topic change he had no problem in pretending it was real. Might shock this mare a bit! That would be fun. A devilish glint, reappeared in his eyes – his curiosity satisfied on the matter and now there was more fun to be had. “Been there done that. I was one of those ‘wraiths’ though to be quite honest with you, I was more like ‘king of the wraiths’.” Did this sound fake? It kind of does. Sounds like he’s making it all up. Funny thing was, he was telling the truth! Well kind of. Little did he know how much he was actually telling the truth. “It’s really not all it’s cracked up to be. You shouldn’t be so afraid of them. All they want is to be loved, just like anyone else." Was this a serious matter? Whoops.
He mimicked her voice for the last bit, giving her a bit higher pitch - obviously. What was the point in mocking someone if you weren't going to exaggerate just a little bit “I highly recommend you give it a shot. It’s a rather fun high.”
Moniz watched the colt’s reaction to the mention of his mother, and she cocked her own unadorned head at him curiously. She chuckled at his self-pleased words and rejection of manners, the hoary whiskers on her wrinkled chin quivering jubilantly. “Everyone needs mothering. Without it you end up flat on your face in a cave with some delightful creature like me.” No, she wasn’t going to let him live down his little tumble. Hell, if she met him a decade from now, when she was no more than a walking buffet for the vultures, she’d still give him shit. “I’m Moniz. And you still owe me your name, Mister Graceful,” she goaded him gleefully.
But if the pony was merely curious about the colt’s family situation, she was downright intrigued by the next twist in their conversation. She scrutinized him with narrowed eyes, watching him distrustfully. Were all the horned ones - unicorns - able to switch wraithiness on and off? Was this little punk just pulling her leg for a laugh? Adolescent boys had a certain predictable sense of humor, but the consequences of the first possibility that jumped into her mind were far direr if they were true. Now her squinted eyes turned into an open glare, annoyed that this little twerp had managed to get a grip on her. Her discomfort showed in her subtly shifted weight and backwards-turned ears, but she finally scowled weakly, “Well excuse me if I don’t break my back bowing before Your Royal Highness.”
But at his mockery, her hesitance turned to anger, and she stomped a defiant front hoof against the hard ground with a thud. She fired back hotly, “I have plenty of fun on my own, thank you very much.” She stepped closer to him as menacingly as she could manage, her fear forgotten and replaced with her desire to dominate this loudmouthed purple-framed kid.
OOC: no worries! Sorry, I was waiting on Roux but I decided to go ahead since I wasn’t sure what was going on and I’m bored at work. =)
02-23-2014, 01:18 PM (This post was last modified: 02-23-2014, 01:19 PM by Roux.)
ROUX drinking freedom from a bottle
to the tune of belong
The colt stood in the darkness, still and silent, a statue among those filled with life. On his wither perched Edison, asleep in the colt's resting. Roux's vision in this place was impeccable, stirring the colt even in times when he should be sleeping. The shifting of the sun and time of day was lost on him, for he only knew it on the surface by his sight. Here, in these caves, Roux was able to see at all times. He was powerful, a colt growing into the lineage of strength and nobility his father had given him. Roux felt alive here. He thrived, forgetting the danger that lurked on the surface and the annoyance that the other horses held because of the dark, tight quarters that the caves were proving to be. Roux cared nought--his family was here, Edison was here, and he could see. What was there else to ask for?
Safety. That was the answer lurking in the back of his mind, as well as the minds of others. Shifting his weight, Roux shook his head and walked forward on uncleft hooves, tail flicking gently behind him. He could hear voices in the distance, and as he approached from the shadows, Roux perked his ears forward to hone in on the speech. The two before him, a colt around his age and an older mare, seemed to be arguing. The colt, stark white against the dark color of the mare, seemed to be an arrogant type, his words harsh and their content lofty. Roux scoffed gently, inaudible to the others. Arrogance was foolish, confidence was tested always. The voice of his mother rang like a bell in the back of his mind, her teachings solid and great in value. Roux would never forget them. He needed to find her soon.
The mare, Moniz as she had blurted, seemed hot. Her words were equally as sharp, dismissing the white colt for nothing more than a foolish child. Roux smirked, and blinked carefully as he waited for a better time to approach. His time lurking in the shadows would soon end, he decided, when the boy began to talk about wraiths. Roux's eyes narrowed--this colt had been a wraith! And, causing the red prince's stomach to turn, had enjoyed it. Roux's blood boiled, rousing Edison from his slumbery state. Blinking baby golden eyes the bird ruffled his soft feathers. Roux was nearly shaking at the thought of loving to be a monster. Edison, the old soul he was, remained silent, and did not attempt to sooth the youngling. Stepping forward with haste, Roux looked directly at Crake, ears pinning slightly to warn the other of his despised mood. "Did you hurt anyone when you were a wraith? Did you enjoy it?" It was easier now for the dayblind boy to see that Crake retained injuries--from what he did not know--but Roux decided he deserved them.
Vail, please tag me when you respond so I know it's my turn. Thanks!
“Mister Graceful works for me.” He didn’t even go by the name his mother gave him, it didn’t bother him to be called anything. Besides, being called ‘mister’ anything made him feel rather important. Maybe he should start introducing himself as Mister Crake.
King Crake sounded nicer but, alas, he wasn’t king of much.
If Crake was going to apologize for making Moniz mad – not very likely – it disappeared from his mind because someone else had just showed up. Another colt! Older than himself, but young enough. He didn’t step back from the mare after she had approached him menacingly – though he was a little bit afraid of her, he certainly wasn’t going to let that show. Instead, those dusty purple eyes just slid right off of her and landed on the colt that seemed disgusted about this whole wraith business.
Everybody knocking stuff before they tried it. Tsk tsk.
Oblivious, or just dumb, Crake didn’t see why this wasn’t something he should brag about. No one had really gotten hurt, right? If it had all been a hallucination, those boys in the Basin probably actually had been run into but chances are none of them were hurt, right? Of course, he was going to embellish everything a little bit – the real story, where he had hallucinated the whole thing, wasn’t very fun. Might as well tell the story as his foggy mind remembered it.
Little did he know that was the actual story but, as we’ve already discovered, Crake wasn’t very bright and he was quite the show-off. His audience’s anger was amusing, sure, but he was certain he would win them back with a good story. “Well it was a power trip, lemme tell you that. You would have liked it too, bucko.” Crake used a rather matter-of-fact tone – convinced that anyone in his situation would have done the same thing. “There were just a few. You probably don’t know any of them – couple of the big guys from the Basin and my friend Ruby. He’s got this funny little spot on his side.” What was his real name again? Started with a ‘C’ or something along those lines. It didn’t matter, neither of these guys would know who he was talking about anyway. “Only one of them turned though. Such a shame. I had grand ideas for a legion.” King of the Basin, he had dubbed himself. Well he hadn’t really settled on a name. Lord of Death would have worked too. He wanted to have domain over the surface while everyone else crowded in the caves.
But being in the caves really wasn’t so bad, even if it was rather smelly. He had already made two new friends!
Although quite proud of the story he had just told, he nonchalantly changed the subject and finally got around to introducing himself. “My name’s Crake, by the way. Since you asked so politely for it.” This was, of course, mostly directed at Miss Moniz.
The agitated pony startled as another horned colt stepped out from the shadows. Punk ass kids… she thought with disdain, casting a withering stare at the quiet intruder. Where were these colts’ parents, anyways? Did these unicorns not supervise their young as equines do?
This darker newcomer was oozing anger; his words confirmed it was directed at the flippant white brute. His braggadocio was obnoxious, sure, but it was hard to take him too seriously. Moniz listened with growing skepticism as he launched into his bold speech reeking of superiority. Having decided she would not be taking this odd colt seriously, she now moved to stand confidently by this choice. She rolled her eyes dramatically at the foal speaking of power, like a citydweller advising a third-generation farmer on how to raise his crops. “Darling, what do you think you know of power?” She droned belittlingly, finishing with a dismissive bark of a laugh.
But now Moniz turned to the bay with his silvery eyes, watching him warily. She had labelled the white boy – Crake, as he finally named himself. She knew what she thought of him. She had formed her opinion and felt confident she knew how to handle him. This other colt was not yet compartmentalized into the pony’s mental filing cabinet, and she wanted to figure out where he fit. She muttered irritably, “I’m not some unicorn babysitting service, you know. Ma and Pops must be worried sick about the two of you…” The sarcasm spilled heavily from her voice as she glared at the youngsters, hoping they were not so dense that they would miss her not-so-subtle hint to scram.
ROUX drinking freedom from a bottle
to the tune of belong
Roux watched the pale colt before him with narrowed silver eyes, tail flicking harshly behind him. The air around the colt was tight and haughty, his body flaring with arrogance and stupidity. Roux could not stand the sight of him, even before the boy answered his question. The mare's presence was all but lost on the red prince as Crake began to speak. Roux could not comprehend someone's enjoyment at the pain of others, and this colt reminded him of his oldest sister. She had attacked a helpless filly on the mountaintop while Roux and d'Artagnan were on an adventure--and she loved it. He remembered the way her eyes danced, full of pleasure and confidence, and he remembered the sickly smile his father's features played. It made Roux sick to think of Crake attacking someone, without reason, and enjoying it. Sadistic punk, Roux thought, wars pinning to his head darkly.
It was as his ears pinned that Crake's words sent Roux over the edge. The world around them seemed to stop, time standing still in the save system. Edison's head shot up and his wings splayed, and the young hatchling flung himself from Roux's wither to a boulder below. Dayblind eyes widened and every muscle in the yearling's body tensed. '...my friend Ruby. He’s got this funny little spot on his side.'
Sacre. Sacre. Sacre.
This bastardized version of a pathetic morsel of unicorn attacked Sacre. Rage pooled in Roux's hooves, boiling and overflowing up his limbs to reach each crevice and orifice of his body. The blood colored colt began to shake, and his head lowered, lethal pointed horn angling towards Crake. "That funny stained boy was my brother." Venom dripped from each syllable of Roux's words, his body shaking violently. The youngling had never felt a rage like this, and it bubbled in his body. Blood pounded in Roux's ears and, like a bullet, he launched himself towards the white boy.
Roux screamed, his throat instantly sore with the force of the noise. Roux's mouth opened wide, and his muzzle aimed with an intended bite towards the wounded colt's throat. Roux did not want this boy walking away from this. So help him Crake would fear for his life in this moment. Roux, a boy so sickened by sadistic violence, was turned 180 degrees in his anger. Crake had attacked Sacre, the thing Roux cared more about in this world than himself. Roux's hooves scrambled to strike at Crake's legs, his intentions clear to cripple the traitor.
Deep within the pit of his stomach, the rage unlocked something Roux had never felt before. A tingling sensation overwhelmed his body as he attacked Crake, a warmth spreading over his gut and limbs, as if the prince had thrown back a shot of whiskey. A silvery image danced in the child's mind, and he imagined Crake laying before him on the cave floor, dead.
Finally, as all of Roux's hooves touched the floor of the cave once more, he realized, he had sent magic at Crake.
Vail, please tag me when you respond so I know it's my turn. Thanks!
03-27-2014, 05:10 PM (This post was last modified: 03-27-2014, 05:13 PM by Crake.)
"Talking"______Thinking
The fact that Moniz was still standing around kind of made her sarcastic complaint about a unicorn babysitting service lose its punch. Maybe she was telling them to get out of there, but Crake had been there first. This was his spot. If she wanted to get away from him - them, whatever - then she could leave! So he flashed her a rather over-the-top, sweet smile. “Sure you are, Miss Moniz! Didn't they let you know? I bet there'll be more of us coming around that corner any minute." If only he had that power, to call forth all his unicorn brethren. He rather liked the idea of her running and screaming away from a hoard of pointy-headed children.
The sarcastic remark that he thought up in response to the discovery that this weird kid was Ruby’s brother died before it even got to his throat and instead an incredulous laugh escaped. Like woah, anger problems. One minute they were having a nice chat (or so he thought) and now he was being screamed at and attacked! The shock of it delayed his reaction time so that the brown colt’s teeth scraped and dug into his throat – Crake trying to jerk away and feeling the all-too-familiar pain. Hadn't that been where mommy-dearest bit him when he was misbehaving? Enough already! “WHAT THE HELL?!” Okay so Ruby was this guy’s brother, but was that really enough reason to attack. He only just managed to get out of the way of the kick to his legs, the wild kicks from this colt missing as Crake scrambled away, looking around for a route to escape while throwing angry words at Moniz. "Are you really just going to let him try to kill me for no reason at all?" Hurrying back up that slope seemed a far better alternative than some crazy brother of a sort-of-not-really friend.
Before Crake could sputter out that he had not actually hurt Ruby, that the little bugger had tried to reason with him before running off, he paused, frozen and confused.
Something was happening inside his body, something not-good.
Of course, he had no idea that what was happening was the result of magic, specifically the colt’s magic. His first thought was that bite – that something had been transferred to him through that. Stumbling, his head dizzy and vision blurred, he tried to find something to focus on. Ah, there was the sarcasm – a prickly safety blanket if there ever was one. “What sort of freak-” A painful cough put punctuation where it should not have been, spraying small flecks of blood before him “–y disease are you carrying, kid?”
His stomach felt like it was tightening, combusting even, and then his legs began to shake with the effort of standing as the muscles began to cramp. Unsteadily he tried to move a couple steps towards Moniz, the only adult in the area, in a brief lapse of judgement. It wasn’t like that she was going to suddenly come to his rescue.
Oh if he turned back into a wraith he was so going to kill the both of them.
ROUX drinking freedom from a bottle
to the tune of belong
Roux could not think clearly, his mind clouded with the desire to see this colt's demise. Every ounce of his body, every cell and muscle, willed him to bring the lighter boy to an end. Edison, still perched on his boulder, flapped his baby wings and screeched wildly, unable to handle the intense fireball of emotion from Roux's heart. The Nightshade's son screamed again, a reverberating neigh, as Crake scrambled away from him. The taste of the other colt's blood was cold and stale, metallic and thick. His kicks missed and Crake threw words at him.
The words fell on deaf ears, the tingling in Roux's belly from the aftermath of his magic subsiding, and he ran towards Crake again. Roux was glad for the darkness of his cave, for his sight in this moment. Had they been surfaced there would be no opportunity to win against his boy, for he would only be able to sense the motion, and on the surface, there was plenty of motion to confuse his sightless eyes. The yearling's chin tucked, aiming his hard, spiraled horn towards Crake's chest. Roux wanted to stab him straight in the heart, as his father had instructed, and feel the pulse stop. He wanted Crake to bleed out, to see the life leave his eyes--for he hurt Sacre.
Sacre, above all things, was Roux's lifeline. Edison had been added to it not along ago, but Roux and Sacre had shared the womb. Their hearts were entangled, their minds alike with the desire for safety upon the other. Roux was still shaking as he attacked Crake, Edison continued to wail from his perch. The bird wanted Roux to stop, to scoop him up and get out of his place. Roux could not, would not, until he knew Crake was ended. Any creature that harmed a single hair on Sacre's stained body would have to pay, and Crake was getting no discount today. Roux kicked out his front hooves again, scrambling to make purchase on Crake's fragile cannons.
Roux stopped, suddenly, remembering the sight of Aviya attacking that innocent filly. The blood colored colt pulled back, away from Crake, and turned towards Edison. "I am sorry." He whispered, a look of sheer terror ripping across his dark muzzle and bright eyes. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes and he blinked them back, suddenly lurching away from Crake and towards Edison. The young bird jumped up towards his master, grabbing his mane in his young talons to hold for dear life. Roux ran towards the entrance of the cave system, tears burning in his eyes.
I killed him. I killed him. I killed him.
I'm a monster.
Sacre, help me!
His mind scrambled and he internally screamed at himself, his panic apparent as he pushed past the elder mare. The tears stung his eyes and he closed them tightly, losing his maneuverability in the caves. He slammed his right shoulder against a sharp edge, ripping skin and hair and slicing into it deeply. The boy screamed with the sudden physical agony, adding to his emotional distress. "SACRE!" Roux screamed, limp-running into the daylight and away from the cave systems, only to collapse a few feet away, succumb to his new injury and the racking sobs that shook his body, replacing the shaking of rage. Edison, confused and hurt, landed on the ground next to Roux and attempted to comfort his master, but nothing would console him.
Crake’s sight began to go fuzzy, dark spots clouding in at the sides as blood started to leak from the edges. He stumbled about, trying to avoid Roux – trying to figure out just what was happening and how he could stop it. But the other colt would not leave him alone! What a jerk he had turned out to be. A whimper escaped the youth as he found the cold rock wall behind his back instead of a way out – he couldn’t even see a way out anymore. His sight blurred as Roux charged at him.
All he could ear were the screams and squawks from the bird, or maybe it was the bird squawking and he was the one that was screaming? That seemed much more likely. Those screams were too loud, too close.
Roux’s horn hit it’s mark, driving into his chest and piercing the soft tissue of the his heart. There was no part of him that did not hurt now, nothing that was spared. Choking on his own blood, blind from the effects of the magic, Crake tried to get away – thrashing about with his head and his legs but there was no energy left. There was no power in his actions. His senses were shutting down, he couldn’t focus on anything.
He barely even noticed when his cannons were fractured. What was more pain on top of everything else?
Physical pain and mental – these were his last moments and he couldn’t even force out ironic last words. What was the point of living if you weren’t going to make the last thing you said count? But he couldn’t. He couldn’t get air in or out past all that blood, blood that leaked out of every orifice as his cells exploded and turned on his body.
What an embarrassing death. Beaten bloody by a freak of a colt – but maybe he would wake up renewed, with a new sickness and he would get his revenge on Ruby and his family. It was all
their
fault.
Thoughts were eluding him, the ability to put them together
Lost.
When had he crumbled to the floor? The blood seeping onto the hardened ground.
It wasn't long after that, spasming in a way that would have mortified him had he been conscious and aware. Coughing through the last shaky breaths, Crake traded one darkness for another and then finally - his body was still.
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