the Rift


[OPEN] You Can't Take Me, I'm Free

Asch Posts: 25
Deceased
Filly :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 8 Months
Brit
#1

Asch and Arwen


It is the moment Asch has been waiting for. There is a glow in Arah's eyes that she knows, for she has seen it when Arwen has a fit, or when she feared the wraiths would come farther from their taunting at the mouth of the cave. It is a mother bear gnashing her teeth to protect her cubs. Doubtful though she is that she is included in that plural version of a title, she knows now is not the time for idle musings. Arah speaks softly at first, a rage Asch is foreign to dripping like venom from her lips. It is meant for herself, not for the girls wrapped round each other like an infinity loop; where one ends, the other begins, for they are endless and connected as one being. A soul divided. As Arwen slumbers fitfully, Asch watches, green-flecked golden eyes glowing in the pale light that reflects off the colors within. Forever on guard. She is a faithful watchdog, alert and focused, assuring that nothing passes through her to harm her beloved sister. Sleep has not come to her, for she fears if she closes her eyes for even a moment, the racist pig will sink his claws into the yielding flesh of her twin. It haunts her, and so she has not slept since they have been captured. When she has it was fitful and useless, only tiring her further. Arah's presence could only do so much to keep her coherent and conscious, but it worked, and so Asch found no need to complain.

When Arah moves away, Asch springs into action. She can afford no wasted time. She stands, picking her legs up and placing them over Arwen, a protective cage around her just in case one of the cow bitch's lackeys came to stop them. They'd have to go through her body first, and like hell she'd let them get to Arwen before her blood was smeared across the snow and her body defiled to the point of nonexistence. But there is a bitter smugness, for she knows even then her sister can reanimate her. Even in death she will fight by her sister's side as an unfeeling soldier. It was all she could hope for.

Golden nose reaches to nudge at her sister urgently. "Wennie, you have to wake up. We have to leave now." She butts her head gently against her twin, horns soft with the impact, voice electrifying in hopes of rousing her. Pulling lightly at her mane and bumping into the soft area behind her shoulder, against her ribs. "Rise, soul sister. We have little time." Only then does she glance around, predatory and protective, before lifting and shifting her legs to allow Arwen the space to move. All the while she is prodding and nudging, desperate to leave. They only have until Arah's challenge finishes, failed or otherwise. It leaves a window of time that they have to utilize. The journey to the Basin is long, and the threat of capture before they return in time is high. They must leave now.

----------

Escape thread. This takes place during Arah's challenge of Tyradon and Confutatis' challenge of Seele, assuming since Confutatis has not returned and the challenge is not judged that they coincide. Arwen and Asch are escaping together.




Arwen Posts: 15
Deceased
Filly :: Unicorn :: 16 :: 8 Months
Frostie
#2

Asch and Arwen


A voice that comforts her day and night urgently invades her sleep, the golden twin rolled in her sleep wishing to continue in her happy state. "Asssssssssie" Moaned the young girl. She was still exhausted from calling the dead, waking the souls and forcing them to appear in her dimension. She would never forget the hunger that lurked in the evil mare's eyes. A gentle but sharp tug on her mane caused her ivory lids to flip open, nudges at her ribs cause a giggle to escape Arwen's lips. "Did you have a bad dream?" Her sister was unsettled, quickly Arwen rose to her hooves. "Ascie, you know I won't let that mare hurt you." A weak attempt at comfort, but Arwen meant every word. They had little time? Little time for what? Couldn't Asch tell that she didn't want to play tag? For the first time Arwen realised that her mother isn't present, there is silence. Her eyes look over the nearly empty cave, finally back to her sister with a soft smile. The golden girl was not worried, although she would miss her meal later tonight if her mother had not reappeared by then.

Suddenly her sister's plan dawned on the soul reaper, her eyes grew as large as dinner plates. Heart thudding in her tiny chest, Aren looked over Asch with terrified yet hopeful eyes. She trusted her sister keep her safe, she trusted the dead to keep her safe. Yet the entire idea still scared her completely. "Are we going to run?" Whispered one sister to another. A mix of emotions filled her at this comment. Should they do it? Would mother be mad? Could they even get far enough? Slip past the other ones that lurked and wanted to hurt them, it was scary. Arwen knew they would be punished for trying to sneak away if they got caught.

Quickly Arwen moved to the edge of the cave and glanced out, the guard was gone. Their mother was gone...was Arah fighting the guard?! Turning back to her sugar coated sister, the golden filly looked over her sister was bright eyes. "We will have to protect each other!" Could they do it? Two young fillies battling the world to try and arrive at The Basin? Arwen looked over the world and wondered how long it would take them to arrive at The Basin, who would be there to greet them? "Remember Lord Deimos Aschie?! He'll keep us safe...Or Lady Illynx!" The young filly carefully edged out of the cave, looking left and right for danger. Her twin was right of course. They had to leave now.





Delinne Posts: 232
Hidden Falls Curiosus II
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.2 hh :: 15 Buff: NOVICE
Dezba :: Black Jaguar :: Stormcall Ina
#3



One step, two steps, three steps, four steps... One step, two steps, three steps, four steps... I had done it. I had bored myself to the point where I counted my own steps, every time one of my hooves thundered against the snowy ground. Dezba just mumbled next to me, mumbling words into my thoughts that I couldn't even make out what they meant. It was just babbling, mumbling babbling that would be the end of me. Right now, I would guess that we were somewhere on the Meadow, as the river was flowing endlessly on our left side. The air was still and cold, freezing our nostrils and lungs as we breathed, making me sneeze every ten minutes. "Damn this winter, Dezba. I'm an old woman, I shouldn't be out in this cold," I complained, making the jaguar flick her left ear towards me. She swooshed her tail and made a rumbling noise, as if she was agreeing. 'Delinne, you're not old. Not even wrinkled yet.' I stopped and looked down at her, our eyes meeting in a stare. Apparently she wasn't agreeing on me being old. I wasn't old? I was freaking nine years old already. I was a mother of two.
If that wasn't something that would describe an old woman, I didn't even know what would.

"Well... I feel old. My bones are so stiff," I mumbled, moving my gaze to what was in front of us. We wandered for a good while in silence - exploring the new Helovia -, and whenever I casted an eye on my companion she had a pokerface. It was impossible to read her mind, as if she was just blank. And then she stopped. She just... stopped. So did I, observing my Desired with narrowed eyes. "What's wr-," is all I managed to say before she hissed quietly and flicked her ears. Her nose wrinkled - together with the scars - and suddenly she was moving again at a faster pace. 'What's wrong, Dez?!' She didn't reply, just continued to trot south. I set off into gallop and followed her, curious to whatever she had found that made her react this way. The feline suddenly turned abruptly to the right and continued to run, when we suddenly heard voices. Tiny, tiny voices. I sped up and ran next to my bonded, into the forest of old trees. I didn't remember this being here, at all. 'Move,' she said, and so I did. "Remember Lord Deimos Aschie?! He'll keep us safe...Or Lady Illynx!" we heard and our pace sped up even more. We came to a cave in the middle of this strange new place, and I saw foals. Inside the cave. Dezba hissed again and sniffed the ground, growling. 'Evil scent, met before,' she stated and I raised a 'brow. What evil? 'Skullface,' she spoke again and I froze. The skullface from the Sanctuary?

Had that bitch captured these two innocent little fillies? They had mentioned Deimos and Illynx... Were they Basiners? I wrinkled my muzzle in disgust, but the mother instinct inside of me couldn't leave the fillies here with the skullfaced. "Hey kids, don't be afraid, I'm here. How did you two get here?" I whispered, smiling at them. They were both really beautiful and I noticed some features from one of the Basiners I had seen when I had lived with them. Arah. Were they her kids? Dezba rose her head and looked around while I stepped closer to the fillies. "Come with me, I'll take you home." And we better get that done quickly, so that I could forget about the Basin for a little while more later.



"Talking."
tags // @[Circuta] @[Asch] @[Arwen]
wordcount // 610
ooc // Delinne and Circuta to the rescue!
texture by robostimpy.deviantart.com
[Image: 23hlgsp.png]
We will always be a team, no matter what.
Remember?


Please tag Delinne in all posts. Attacking is not allowed without my permission.
Want to meet Delinne? Post in this thread c:

Morir Posts: 79
Up For Adoption atk: 4.5 | def: 6.5 | dam: 3.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 4 HP: 54 | Buff: NOVICE
Arwydd :: Raven :: None Adoptable
#4


"I would leave this place now, if I were you" a voice drawled from the shadows. "Alone, as I have no intention of letting you take the girls anywhere." The deep vocals drifted lazily towards the woman and children from within the ancient rotunda, soft and dangerous in all their unconcerned amusement. Much like a ghoul would rise from the underground, Morir emerged from the night like a monster from some nightmare, tall and looming with the pallid death mask glowing with its own light - picking up the soft shimmer of silver veins along his spine perhaps, or reflecting what faint light the stars might provide on a dreary night such as this.

He approached the trio - no, quartet, for while the steps of the cat were silent the scent of predator on the wind was unmistakable - with quiet confidence, the arch of the thick neck commanding and imposing as he faced the intruder. He didn't need eyes to see that this was a troublesome situation. One blind stallion, a mare of unknown origins and two rebellious fillies who didn't have the sense to stay put while their mother risked her life for their freedom... Things were bound to become chaotic, and victory would seem hard to claim.

That is, if he'd been alone.

"Did you really think you were left alone out here?" the young demon asked the children with a frown, lips tense and disapproving as he faced them with pallid bones stiffened in a mocking leer. "Your mother is currently placing herself in great danger by trying to set all of you free, and this is how you thank her? By endangering yourselves, dragging in unrelated people in your own business and acting without neither plan nor consideration for the consequences of your actions? Shameful."

"As for you..." he said and turned the head in the direction of the intruder, a movement so slow and deliberate that it turned all the more sinister for it. "Mind your own business. You are outnumbered here. Don't you agree, REGIME?!"

The final word was thrown into the night with the force of a hurricane, a call to arms that rang across the region, a summon and alarm that would reach even the more distant of the hellions they had gathered.



ooc: Calling ALL REGIME MEMBERS to join! 8D
@[Morana], @[Sheba], @[Moniz], @[Cyrus], @[Adele]

"I embrace the thorny rose to my chest and
fall into the crimson sea
I continue dancing upon the
piled bodies until I die"


♦ Please tag Morir in all replies! 

Asch Posts: 25
Deceased
Filly :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 8 Months
Brit
#5

Asch and Arwen


Rising slowly, it only spikes the anxiety boiling inside, watching how her twin came alive in infrequent spurts. This was urgent. She had to get Arwen out of here now. It seems to take far too long for her to catch on, for the gravity of the situation to hit her, but by then Asch is already practically hauling her up out of the snow and to her hooves. Doesn't bother to speak or to answer the mumbled, sleep-ridden question that tumbles from her lips. Even when she does have nightmares, she despises telling Arwen the truth. A simple lie and a shake of the head always sufficed. It was her burden. But finally she is rising and moving, and she snaps her teeth in a silent command to hush herself, or she will attract attention. It is not done cruelly, but Asch is a creature of motion and unspoken language, and Arwen will know the gravity of the situation with the sharp sound that echoes off her teeth.

"They can't protect us if we can't make it out, Wennie," she hisses softly, urgently. But as she says it, as they advance out of the cave on graceless legs, she realizes with a shift of the wind that they are not alone. Had she been canine her hackles would be on end, and already she is shoving Arwen behind her, ears snapping to her cranium as a storm themed maiden came hurrying towards them, a feline charging ahead of her. But Asch knows the tone of her voice, knows the worry in her eyes, and she knows she has to do this right. Her voice trembles and her eyes grow big and she grabs at Arwen to hurry her along towards the maiden, eyes thick with tears she is only half-faking. "Help us, please, help us!" She whispers it urgently, whimpering pathetically as she rushes forward. "They took us away, Mother is fighting the guard, please we need to tell our leaders," she cries urgently, stumbling across her words, throwing all her emotion into her voice because if she doesn't...if she doesn't, Arwen may not escape. Asch doesn't care if she makes it back or not. She doesn't care if she dies along the way, or if she has to remain prisoner, to be tortured every day for information she will never give. So long as Arwen can make it home safe, she is happy. So she shoves Arwen in front of her towards Delinne as she hears Morir approach, turning to snarl at the words he spoke, clearly trying to make her feel guilty. Pah. Guilt. Nothing could make her feel guilty for getting Arwen out of here safe and unscathed. Not even abandoning her mother.

"Shut your face, you bastard, or I'll rip your tongue out," she barked. Being around the Regime had not calmed her temper any, and the riotous words she had screamed at Confutatis were still dying to escape. Turning her eyes upon Arwen she hardened her features, allowing no disagreement. "You will run, Arwen. You will run and you will not look back. No matter what you hear. If they catch up to you, you scream. As loud as you can. And you use your magic okay? I'll be right behind you." Lie. Lie, lie, lie. Because Asch will only follow when she has given her all, has made sure she has won her twin as much time as she possibly can.

Then she turns to Morir and snarls as she calls for them. Before she can handle the whiplash of already turning she is doing so once again, slamming her head into Arwen's side to get her to run. Shoves her, forces her away, biting and snapping violently at her flanks even as it makes the tears in her eyes attempt to crawl down her cheeks. Eyes flick to Delinne, begging her for help. "Help me, please, she has to get home safe. I'll do anything. I...I have magic. I can help hold them off. Please, we can't fight them alone, do you have any herd members? If one of us doesn't get away, nobody will know," she says sharply, voice low and pitched only for her ears, eyes watching Morir warily as her tail slaps sharply against her hocks. It is all a lie, for she has no magic that she's aware of, but she won't leave her savior to face the Regime alone. Too young to fight. Not too young to want to see them bleeding at her hooves.

--------

@[Random Event] for Stat Roll for escape, please! I'm not sure how Delinne's presence will modify that though.




Moniz Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#6

No one ever found real power acting alone. It took Moniz seven years of solitary wandering to figure that out, but ever since her first fateful conversation with Tyradon and Cynder, she had started figuring it out. No, if any of them were to succeed, they would all have to succeed.

Moniz did not give the slightest damn about these strangers her cohort was collecting like spit-stained stamps. She certainly was not impressed when she was told to keep an eye on these suckling babes. Mares’ maternal instinct disgusted her. How could otherwise strong ladies give up their independence – their freedom - just to put some slimy burdensome beasts at their side? Fuck that.

But the importance of the Regime’s success to Moniz’s eventual success was not lost on her, so she played along. The small dark mare stood a ways off in the shadows of the woods, grateful for her simple solid bay coloring that attracted little attention. The quickly-growing lizard curled into her thick mane, locked in place with his hook-like claws. She expected a boring shift, and was pleasantly surprised by Morir’s cry to action. Thick black legs sent her bursting forth with a jolt, and she appraised the situation as she approached. There were the fillies and the familiar Regime faces, and some dark bitch she’d never seen.

Moniz slid to an abrupt stop several meters from Morir, snorting loudly and giving her eyes a wild roll for effect. “Do you have a death wish, sweethearts? Because if you run, you will die, either by our teeth or the elements. Your choice.” Moniz growled in her best attempt at a menacing voice towards the captives, stomping a heavy front hoof with finality to punctuate her words.

She was enjoying this far too much.

“As for you, bitch,” Moniz spat at the stranger, “Mind your own business, or if you're jealous of these girls' predicament, we can arrange for your disappearance, too.”

OOC: Ah, I’m really sorry aeolle! I started writing this before you posted your note. Moniz didn’t do much so hopefully this won’t change whatever you were planning too much, but if it’d help you if I edit anything, just let me know.

Moniz & Darco


Random Event Posts: 1,286
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#7
Sorry frostie! Those options are in the works and have not been finalized yet! It will be posted in updates when the testing is finished.

Circuta Posts: 100
Hidden Account
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 7 Buff: NOVICE
Rhawon :: Siberian Tiger :: None aeolle
#8
"I don't want your money
I don't want your crown,
see I've come to burn your kingdom down."


In the glacial air of brisk wintertide, it is riddled with fairy tale lies and saccharine promises, of harmonious cardinals and irenic breeze, striking against clammy sinew and sweat beaded— hyacinth fragranced— hide, twisting, churning, baleful and passionate, a incubus upon the brine and a Nightingale to serve each beck and call.
  But on this eve, the Nightingale has endeavored forth, and caught the caw of a crow, deep, caliginous, bellowing, a somber cry, and the Regime, a vigorous and robust screech, a name with which she had no qualms with nor recognized— a name with which she did not intend to find, a name with which she did not wish to know. And perhaps, the elusive daughter of the Revere, the childe of anarchy would have bypassed the opportunities that arose before her, a crossroad of the most intriguing inquiries if it had not been laced with the odor of a lightning-born Queen and hoofprints in the malleable earth below her very own pillars.

Perhaps she would have returned to hearth and home after a tiresome venture if it had not been for the fretful meanderings that wander about a inquisitive mind, if she had not been apprehensive at the paws, if she had not smelt a Jaguar and a comrade, a comrade under her command, a power to which she held with trembling fingers, and she, Nightingale, bedeviled and foredoomed, would not allow even the most pressing of touches to scar her kin's hide (and that is what Leto is to her now, for she is within her coven, her jurisdiction, and if any harm was lain barren to she, the Nightingale would return with a army of ten thousand men and lay to waste this rotunda, this grovel, chase rats and mice from grottos and burn them down with growing pyre).
  There was the whiff of the north in her maw, rolling along her tongue, of milk and babes breath.

She pursues each whisper of the wind with all the starved hunger of a pack of wolves— ice grows and shelters along her heart and when reticent steps bring her to the hind of a group, it is with violet pearls she observes them, upturned neck and high held, tense stance, a stag with a apparel deemed onyx and a little terracotta lass, dual children (to be certain, they were a mere babe, one another, and she queried and doubted whether they would survive without the warmth of a dam's milk); and a lightning-born comrade with a jaguar at her heels.
The Nightingale is late to the arrival— peril and foreboding snarls, a pup having bitten off far more than she should have chewed, mockery and insolence, vulgar language and for all the sleet and ire, flourishing stridence and pitiless chill to the way her snowy lashes brush her cheeks, the way a callous and atrocious grin spreads across her maw she may have been the northern hills themselves. Barbarous, heinous as she focuses upon the beast's tilted maw, a pearl, a sphere to wrap tendrils around his nostrils, malicious and malevolent and not natural; all in a hideous mind of contours and loathsome ideals.
  It is vicious, a monster, and as it reduces and diminishes her mind and bodice into a swaying, buffeted mass, as her knees feel feeble and threaten to knock together, as a all encompassing desensitized, vitality and strength dropping as limbs in the midst of gail forced pressure, she is wholly and entirely damned to enervation, and for one second the world has vanished into nothing but she and the pearl.

And then in a blinding crack she returns, scalding, perspiration glinting and gleaming as diamonds upon her sinew, the world is fruitless and dull compared to the swirling, writhing sphere she had been observing mere moments ago and she has no time to dwell on how fatigued she is, how worn, how she feels she may crumble as collapsing mountains into the earth below, for surely her time to hide has long dwelled into nothing (albeit mere seconds have passed, she feels as if it has been a eon, a century, and she is shocked she still stands alive)— she shivers, as freezing as she has ever been, slick from her own vital liquids and mortally drained from her exertions, there is no time to make sure the elk Prince has been drowned in a lapse of oxygen, for she is stumbling, hazy, a blurring contortion of her eloquent frame and then she is imperceptible, wraithlike, invisible (although this is not to her knowledge, for she has never known of this magic before, even as her flesh trembles, a flickering candlelight of a frame, in and out of existence).

Disembodied, hoarse, guttural, macabre lyrics and eerie song, a combined and ricocheting word as the Nightingale moves around the edge of the coppice— ghoulish, a demand, a single and damnable chorus.
"Run."

It will only be later she wonders why there is a taste of iron in her mouth when she coughs, why her lungs ache so, why there is cruor upon her lips. For if the magic given to her by title and place had meant to aid her— it had met the full exertion she has gone through, and merely caused it to grow worse each passing second.
A witches magic will always come at a cost.


Permission given by Chan to use magic, permission given as a whole to use Chameleon (portrayed here as faulty, she is flickering in and out instead of remaining wholly invisible, because she is exhausted after using her regular magic and moving). No worries, Vail! Your post is fine.
CIRCUTA


Cause she's a Cruel Mistress
And a bargain must be made

Confutatis the World Eater Posts: 179
Hidden Account atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 9 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Mongrel :: Common Kitsune :: Dark Illusions wanda
#9

She's a dwelling place for demons.
She's a cage for every unclean spirit,
Every filthy bird and makes us drink
The poisoned wine to fornicating with our kings.
Fallen now is Babylon the Great.
C O N F U T A T I S

Failure; damned to lose, to be put underneath the glassy hooves of a necromancer, and she rages, she froths at the mouth, spittle bubbling and burning at her charcoal lips; the wolf hounds north and west from the womblike caverns, the brightness of sunlight dancing on her ashen lashes. How could she have lost? It was not a matter of skill; it was luck, sheer luck, and it would not happen again, she would die before the untamed coward defeated her; her, Confutatis the Great, the Almighty, the amber-eyed Villainess. No longer would she crawl and slither over the ground like a rat- she would bare yellowed ivories and roar, take on any who dared get in her way. If they desired to brand her as weakling, she would deliever to them shattered skulls and broken bones! She would cow them with snarling, snapping teeth and a rabid smile; she would enter the fray without qualm nor fear, dance with all the eloquence and grace of pouring water, and watch them, one-by-one, succumb to her defiant decadence, ruinous rot, and vile desecration.

The wolf marches home in high furor, hackles up and fangs bared.

She would confess, for her sins; enlighten her wicked heart to Tyradon, admit to her inability to fight as she should. Skills became rusty and dusty in their disuse, but she was confident this would be no longer. Every fight she would embark on would be a battle for supremacy, no matter how trivial; every spar a war of it's own, and she would not shame her forebears as she did not so long ago. Confutatis would brood, take her time, sharpen her knives in the dark- so when the time came, Seele would be bleeding from the back.

Skull-faced decay comes flying home to a place of glass and beauty, prepared to taint such glorious colors- and what does she see but a gathering, of pipsqueak cubs and horned fiends (enemies in black and white, she'll ruin them, they had best run before her teeth are clamped down on their precious throats) and others too, familiar faces: Morir and Morana. He shouts out, blaspheme (had she not told him to keep his mouth SHUT?) to her rule; she had told him not to speak of the Regime. Fool, idiot, bumbling dunce; if he had eyes, she would gouge him out for his insolence, or perhaps she would lick them with her acid mouth and watch the gelatin run down his cheeks, burning, scalding, boiling.

She goes unseen, lingering on the edges of the shadows, unwilling to yet intrude upon them, curious as to see the outcome- and then she hears the snarls and snaps of a little wolf cub, and her poison lips curl into jagged smile. Sinister, foreboding, she advances, omen of death, omen of ruin, sign of black magic.

"Daughters dearest," she croons to her children, to her pretty little whelps- she is savage, she is feral, she is destruction and annihilation. "I told you to go back to sleep. It's not good for little birds to over-excite themselves... a big bad wolf might just eat them in the night."

Unnaturally heterochromic eyes turn to the mare she had glimpsed just once before beneath ground, a mare struck with lightning whose name she knew not. "Would the storm-whore-" oh yes, the wolf sees the stretch marks of damning childbirth (she did not have them herself, having cut Veil from the womb before he grew too large) "prefer to be flayed or have the tongue cut from mouth? We can't have you thundering back to mama to SHARE YOUR LIES." There will be time to punish Morir for his disobedience later, but she cannot deny he still halted the seeds of an escape, perhaps that evens out the playing field. And Morana- she will be rewarded for responding so immediately to the threat.

Run.
It comes from nowhere; ears swivel, ears pin, head jerks upward aggressively, demandingly, eyes wild and haughty, but there is nothing, no skin to flit and shiver (is she- or he- hiding? Coward, craven, yellow-bellied dog.) "Where are you?" she snarls, "where are you hiding, little coward? Come out to play, and maybe we'll let you go free." Her magic seeps and swirls, veils of decay and destruction, nefarious sorcery that comes to kiss skin cloaked in chameleon-like ability, rings of rot and ruin slithering over ragged coats. "There you are," she hisses, she seethes; her head snaps to face the foals.

"Don't run now, children, your mother is fighting for you... and nothing good will come of it."

image credits


OOC: To bring everyone up-to-speed, I've had several conversations with various adminstrators and as conclusion: none of the Regime can do anything about the foals escaping, or others watching (I believe); the foals may not escape without their mother, henceforth this escape would be void until Arah and Tyradon's challenge is complete.
Join the Regime.

Delinne Posts: 232
Hidden Falls Curiosus II
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.2 hh :: 15 Buff: NOVICE
Dezba :: Black Jaguar :: Stormcall Ina
#10

Ugh, they just HAD to appear just because I came along? At the sound of the stallion's voice, I turned my head and just glared at him. Seriously? I can't even step into a special part of the forest without having someone stomp in on me. I'm getting tired of this. Dezba glanced at me without turning around. She was already facing the unicorn, observing his every move. What do you mean? I never answered the feline, instead I just turned around completely and the noticed a special little thing that made me happy... The stallion that I gazed upon was blind as a bat. "Oh well, hello~, unknown stallion. I am no one that you should worry about. Just go away and everything will be alright." I felt like hissing the words, but instead my voice had an almost happy tune. The jaguar next to me just stared at me, confused by my sudden change of voice compared to my mental voice. And she sure as hell commented on it, just like I had expected from my dear bonded. Your voice. Wrong. I raised a 'brow and looked down at her, smiling widely. Oh, is it? I glanced back at the two fillies, shaking my head in direction toward an opening in the forest. Run, I thought, knowing they couldn't hear me but hopefully they would understand anyways.

But of course, I didn't get to talk much more before a brown bareheaded idiot came out of nowhere and called me bitch. I looked at her, my blue eyes wide-open, before I bursted into laughter. "Oh god, you are HILARIOUS, darling. Mind my own business? First of all I want to ask you one thing." I cleared my throat, rose my head and then parted my dark kissers to speak a few, very carefully chosen words: "Why THE FUCK have you captured two small NEWBORNS AND THEIR MOTHER?!" Quickly, I turned my head slightly to mime to the twins not to swear like I just did. My head quickly moves to face the two worthless equines in front of me, when I suddenly heard a crack. I pinned my ears and looked around us, catching a shadow in the background that made me really open my eyes widely. Circuta. I heard her little word, and I sure as hell wanted to do so. But before I had even turned around to grab the foals with me, another voice disturbed us. Oh, come on! I thought, my mental voice was growling as I only got more pissed off by the minute.

"Storm-whore."

By the sound of that word, that nickname, I froze and turned around to see a skull-headed bitch walk closer. "If you call me that one more time, sunshine, I will slit open your chest and eat your heart." I whispered, a smile appearing on my lips as I spoke the deadly sentence. Dezba was now growling loudly, hissing with small intervals. Run, Mother. Find protection. Rain started to pour, wetting my black bodice and I started to laugh again. Black clouds above us started to form and I just laughed even more.

You sure are full of surprises! Zap these bitches and we shall run. I thought, smiling at her. The feline gave me a slight nod before she closed her eyes and sparks started to explode from the clouds. "Run, children." I said, before a loud crack was heard - a sudden light of a lightning - and we ran. Dezba and I ran as fast as we could and we didn't even look back.

"Talking"
Delinne's thoughts
Dezba's thoughts

ooc // Tired of being stuck here and since it has been more than 10 days since the last post, I'm posting this. Dezba is using 'Stormcall' and just zapped someone/something in this area that was either a tree, the ground, Confutatis, Moniz or Morir. Delinne out!
word count // 596
tags // @[Asch] @[Arwen] @[Circuta] @[Moniz] @[Morir] @[Confutatis]
[Image: 23hlgsp.png]
We will always be a team, no matter what.
Remember?


Please tag Delinne in all posts. Attacking is not allowed without my permission.
Want to meet Delinne? Post in this thread c:

Arah Posts: 343
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Wynter :: Royal Griffin :: Draining Clutch Frostie
#11


The crow calling signals night,
The never ending night,
Of Wynter.

Voices floated over to her, her daughters and others. The battle was over, while Arah may not have won she certainly proved a point. She would not sit by meekly and just let these idiots have their way. Ducking into the cave, Arah gently lifted her precious egg. It still had not hatched but it's time was coming very quickly. Coming around the corner with her egg nestled between her shoulders Arah studied the other both protecting and threatening her daughters. Moving quickly into the fray, Arah stopped in front of Asch and glanced over to Arwen who quickly got up to stand behind her older sister. Turning to the fist two creatures that had threatened her daughters and snorted. "Congratulations." Her voice was full of pain and anger. "You almost scared my two month old daughters." Walking right up to the female that had threatened death, Arah attempted to lock her eyes with the mare. "If you ever so much as look at my daughters again." Her voice was cold, terribly uncharacteristic for the doe. "I'll remove every happy memory you have, then I'll gorge your eyes out from your skull." A single chuckle. "That way I won't be able to give them back."

Turning now towards the colt that had appeared first, Arah took her time in approaching him. She did not fear him, only wanted to appear imposing. "As for you, I'll rip your tongue out from your mouth and wear it around my neck." Glancing over to their leader, Arah grinned wickedly. "I'll save your mistress the bother."Finally she turned to the mare that had captured her daughters first and offered her a smile. This one, she would ruin. Arah had nothing left to fear from this mare, no longer would she hold power over the doe. Arah may be a prisoner, but it was her who would decide who would live and who would die. Her daughters hopefully remained safe behind her, for now the doe's attention was consumed by the mare who claimed to be death.

"This is boring now. I want to take my daughters home." They claimed to be tough, scary and evil. So far all they had done was attempt to scare two little fillies, it was pathetic. Yet still, Arah would offer them a choice. "Let us go now and we will leave quietly and peaceful." Smiling, she approached the mare of death, fear absent from her eyes. "If you do not, the minute this egg hatches and the animal is able to walk, run...fly, I'll send my bonded over to The Basin." Her voice was flat empty emotionless. Her eyes were bright however, alive and dangerous. A promise that no matter how much power this mare thought she had, she would loose it all. The doe was a princess...no, a Queen of Ice. In different ways, Arah was just as lethal. "At the Lord and Lady's hooves she will lay a piece of bark with my blood on it and the scent of the Ancient Rotunda." Glancing over to check on her daughters one last time, Arah finally laid her final threat. "You'll be marked as enemies for all time to come. Because my bonded will return, probably with The Basin's fury." Or maybe they would come a calm as death, either way Arah did not doubt They Basin's loyalty for her. She was their daughter, had been loyal for years. They would not abandon her. Sighing Arah turned and walked back over to her daughters. "Only the gods will have mercy for your pathetic souls."

As if on cue a crack could be heard echoing through their meeting place. Another crack, Arah quickly lay down so the egg gently topped onto the grass. A beak could been seen, Arah watched fascinated. Through the layers of egg the creature pushed it's way free, until the it's beautiful white body was free from the egg and landed in the grass. A beautiful griffin, Arah smiled down at the beautiful creature that was as white and winter's snows. That was perfect...winter A name for the newly hatched companion. "Wynter." Arah gently cooed down at the tiny creature who quietly chirped back at her. Flight it is. With a smile, Arah gently nudged Wynter to her feet. The little creature was still featherless and flightless, but give it a few days. In a few days she could grow feathers and Arah would send her off to The Basin just as she promised. The tiny griffin rose and scampered onto Arah's back, she rose standing proudly. Two daughters and a newly hatched bonded, her purpose for being alive. "Make your choice."

" "
782 words.
After this post anyone who has not posted has 48 hours before RE rolls | if you decide to let Arah and the twins go then RE won't need to roll ( obviously xD).
@[Random Event], please roll for Arah, Asch and Arwen.

And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.

✽ Force and magic permitted. ✽
✽ No fatal or permanent damage. ✽
✽ Please only tag in opening posts. ✽

Tyradon Posts: 106
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2 :: 14 Buff: NOVICE
Cynder :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath Snow
#12
OOC: Nothing personal Frostie it's just in their nature to try and do this :c


WE ARE THE HEIRS TO EMPTY THRONES AND PROMISES UNKEPT
WE SIT AND WATCH THE EMPIRE BURN WITH MILD DISINTEREST

Through the silence there comes a laugh.

It's a wicked sound, macabre and deadly, ringing through the forest like a curse as the bastard king hears his fallen foe's words. Oh, she's hilarious. Her logic is that of a child - if I threaten the bad guys, they'll let me go! In the real world it doesn't work like that, and if Tyradon didn't loathe her enough, now he pities her. He bested her in a test of strength - despite her cowardly and underhand tactics - and so she resorts to the sly methods of a lesser being; unfortunately for her, the poor, arrogant thing, Regime members are not so easily blackmailed. He breaks from the shadows to stand in the centre of the gathering, massive and blood-soaked frame lurking like a hulking monolith of death; his now-conscious war-dragon stands sentinel on his back, hissing furiously with her flaming tail lashing. His gaze drops to the harlot's newborn companion, poor, stunted thing with a broken mind bent to the whims of an inferior species. "Pathetic," he says with another chuckle swelling from his massive chest, silver gaze flashing with gluttony.

He looks around the gathered ones - Arah's gruesome offspring, and his fellow Regime members. Then he looks back to her newborn companion, and Cynder licks her lips. "Cynder?" he says aloud in a sing-song voice, rumbling with dark amusement and morbid intent. "Dinner." With a caw of delight the lizard leaves his back and descends upon the newborn griffin as it perches on Arah's back. Her jaws open, flame blossoming from between the prison of her teeth as she aims to set the helpless hatchling ablaze, roast it alive - even as the smoke clears she's diving, claws and teeth primed as she aims to rip the griffin limb from limb and swallow the pieces down her hungry throat. The mare's companion is her prey and Tyradon watches with sinister enjoyment, hoping to see blood squirt - his war-dragon is hungry after her ordeal during the battle, and what better feast than the hideous creature bonded to the mare who caused her so much misery? Her threats are pathetic, the threats of a stunted foal - the beast's response is evident as he watches his dragon go about her work.

Neither of them have forgotten what Arah did to Cynder - and now her companion will pay the iron price.


[ we are made of greed ]
[ the regime ]

Random Event Posts: 1,286
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#13
Arah's escape.

Arah | SPD: 4, END: 10 | Total: 14
Dice Roll for Escape: 1d4 rolled for a total of: 4 (4)

Tyradon | SPD: 4, END: 4 | Total: 8
Dice Roll for Keeping: 1d6 rolled for a total of: 1 (1)


(If anyone comes to help in the next hour, I will reroll, but I wanted to have this up before I left for dinner)

Random Event Posts: 1,286
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#14
14 + 4 = 16
8 + 1 = 9

Since 16 > 9, Arah goes free.
(This does not hold true until an hour from now)

Asch Posts: 25
Deceased
Filly :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 8 Months
Brit
#15

Asch and Arwen


Words swirl around her like a hurricane, but all she can focus on is the arrival of the cow bitch. Snarl becomes deeper as she whirls upon her, bristling like a cat in her frail age and tiny frame. She'd sooner die than show this bitch any sort of fear or compliance. "Big bad wolf looks like she just got torn to shreds, you weak bitch," she spits. Her mouth is fouler than a full grown adult, but she does not regret if it grants her the full weaponization of her words. They all crowd around her, but Asch only has eyes for Confutatis, eyes dancing golden flames embedded in her features, wishing only to let her burn. But then Delinne is vanishing and everything is chaotic, and Asch takes the chance to rush to her sister and shield her, shoving her about carelessly to maneuver her the farthest from the others, behind her own body. They'd have to go through her before they even set eyes on her twin. And like an ivory beacon it is her mother that comes limping out, fire in her tone as she shreds into the cow bitch with just as much fury as Asch.

Her attention is only drawn away by the cracking of her egg, but Asch is not so fond of this new interruption. Her eyes are on the advancing stallion. On the dracon accompanying him. And she is no fool, however young she may be. Companions are precious, and these bastards only desire agony. As he calls for his companion, Asch is already rushing forth. Anger boils inside of her, growing and growing until her head is one endless screech. Thoughts are pointless, they are nothing but static in her rage. She shoves into her mother, leaps before her, and everything goes white. She doesn't know what she's doing, but something hot is crawling inside, burning her and warming her simultaneously. The nape of her neck prickles, her skin shivers, and her muscles seize.

"YOU WILL BURN!" The fire of his dragon is all she can think of as she screams it, and something snaps inside. Magic crawls like a ravenous beast through her, her only thought being to make the bastard trying to take her mother's companion burn. To see his flesh crawl and peel off, to hear him scream. And to her fascinated horror, she can feel it trying to happen. But she is frozen, her anger surging like waves, golden eyes slitted and nearly glowing with the tempest roiling inside the container of her body. He will pay. He will hurt. He will burn.

---
Yay for first time use of magic!

Asch is using her magic :: [Magic: Fire | Ability to boil blood to high temperatures, both inside the body and without. Causes 2nd degree burns if the blood is resting on skin, as well as light-headedness, instability, blurred vision, and general overall agony] on Tyradon. Your decision where to go from there, like how long it lasts and such if you decide for it to work :D




Arwen Posts: 15
Deceased
Filly :: Unicorn :: 16 :: 8 Months
Frostie
#16

Asch and Arwen

They all arrive, talk. Asch shoves her and tells her run, but it is too chaotic. Where would she run? Why would she run without her sister. Too much is happening at once, everyone is yelling and then suddenly, magic. The black female who had first arrived to help is slipping away, but not without first calling a storm. Lightening fills the field where they are gathered, fear bites at Arwen's heels. "Asch!" The darker sister had sworn to defend Arwen, just all the golden girl was concerned about was her sister safety. "Run with me Asch!" The arrival of their mother does little to soothe the horror within Arwen. The young girl is shepherded behind Asch, for she was the stronger twin. Reaching out with her head, Arwen tries to cling to her twin, wanting nothing more to grab her sister, mother and run. At two months old, the magic and horrible words from those surrounding her are utterly terrifying. Their mother is speaking, but the anxiety within Arwen is peaking and suddenly she can hear them. The cold, dead, unfeeling and unyielding voices. The golden filly freezes, panic taking ahold of her limbs.

"Aschie." Her twin however is too intent of the fire being breath by the dragon companion. "Mother." Her pathetic voice barely even reaches her own ears. The dead whisper calming words to her, but the soothing tones are lost to Arwen. Her breaths become shallow, eyes grow wide and suddenly she is frozen in place. "Aschie, please." The words her sister had spoken not long before give her strength. Use your magic. So she does, the lids close over her golden eyes and Arwen allows the magic to take over. It fills her mouth with the bile taste of death, but Arwen does not taste it, for her young mind is far too focused on the whispered words meant only for her ears. Her twin pushes Arwen back and she stumbles, but is hardly aware of anything moving around her. Then, the dragon is flying forward and her sister is charging. "ASCH NO!" The words burst from Arwens lips, but suddenly the voices are whispering, 'Help her! The young filly looks around desperately. How?! she begs of the voices.

Then she sees it, the rotting tree trunk. It is full of death, everything that Arwen needs. Rushing over to the trunk, the golden girl watches the power of decay and how it ate away at the dead trunk. The dead help whispering encouragement to the deranged little girl, she knows what she must do. Turning to look over the brute's battered body where her mother had injured him, her Arwen can already see the decay and death fighting to take ahold. Arwen sensing the essence of Death, Destruction, Decay, and Corruption, encourages it to take ahold of the wounds. The dead surround her brutish target, although only she can see them. They can not hurt him or speak to him, yet their presence helps the young filly. His wounds are bad, but slowly as death creeps towards his decaying flesh, Arwen knows it's about to get a whole lot worse...if she can keep her concentration. He would not touch Asch, he would not set her sister alight. "Death will eat you alive tonight." It is not her voice that leaves the young girl's lips. It is the voice of death.

--
More magic! :D

Nether Manipulation ::
The opposite power of Life-Force Manipulation; whereas Life-Force is the essence which allows life to flourish, Death-Force is that which causes things to wither, rot, weaken, and eventually die. The user can sense and manipulate the essence that allows Death, Destruction, Decay, and Corruption to exist throughout the universe, allowing them to control decayed matter or to request assistance from the dead. On Trya...sorry Snowwy, picking on you. xD
If you don't want her magic touching Trya, just distract Arwen and her magic and strength will fail her. Throw a stick at her or have Cynder attack her. xD
" "




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