the Rift


[OPEN] Romani Holiday

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#1

Exploration and discovery were amazing, incandescent things, and the scion traveled alongside his mother, his father, for the sights, sounds, and wonder of the earth’s creation. Realms, kingdoms, and sovereignties were open bounties for him to delve and spy within; like a specious toddler, princeling crown tipping over his ears, laurels and tidings ripped and ruined in the wake of mischievous endeavors. He ambled beneath boughs, arms of shade and nettles, rambled under spring storms and embraced its zealous, feverish pitch, scrambled into the divinity, the satanic, danced and skimmed along the edges of the unknown. His childish, youthful, newborn essence craved each and every essence, notion, speck and granule of information, searching, ruminating, examining – if one nibbled upon these branches, were they satisfying? If he stepped over these rocky protrusions, did it harm their hooves? If he prodded and poked the ground with his tiny sword, infant rapier, did it maim, indent, or merely mock his efforts? What lay beyond the walls of ice, rime, and frost? Was the grass softer here, perfect for an afternoon nap? What were the dangers of the terrain, what were the virtues of its existence? Could he embody both, use, develop their potency, or was it lost to him as so many other things, untouched and infirm, beyond his reach? Were there others like them, wild, untamed, free to do as they yearned? What was conquered, devoured, triumphed over, and what lay in ruin, rubble, begging for absolution? What were vices, what were flaws, and did every world have them? His ignorance longed to flee, to be scorched and seared, enflamed and engulfed, and as he wandered about the field (heavenly, she called it, like dove songs and handmaidens painting tapestries of gods and goddesses – suddenly, he wanted to see them and know their power, their condemnation, their outreach and scales), away from his dam’s eyes, he sought to endure the clambering of children and the exotic reverie of observation, research, and investigation. He was Erebos, darkness incarnate, moving within the light of day, scalding for answers and prickling for truth.

He stared at the long, drifting loam, the stretch of grass lingering listlessly for miles and miles, begging for a lengthy gallop, a swift swallow of speed, a gale of his mighty force. He arched his brow once or twice, tilting and inclining his cranium to ensure poor, dear Huyana was occupied with something else altogether, before he became a quick, sudden engine of speed: an unholy menace across the uncharted grounds. For a few moments, it was just him and the earth; a maddening dance, a predacious claim to the empire all of its riches, a descendant of death and all of its ruins, paragon pedestals reaching for his lithe, tender frame – and then plucking his feet out from underneath him entirely. He fell into an ungraceful heap at the bottom of a knoll, limbs akimbo and stretched out in various directions, unharmed except for his youthful ego. From his vantage point, a tumble of lengthy limbs and grouchy exterior, he stared back at the offensive bank, as though it had done him a great dishonor. His features furrowed into a scathing, infernal haze, embarking and hastening for his father’s intimidation factor, and noting thereafter he’d acquired none when the mound refused to apologize for its ill behavior. A deep, loathsome sigh crackled through his lungs, like a turbulent hiss of a petulant babe, before he managed to right himself, nose wrinkled, gaze infuriated. Already a lesson had been acquired and administered rapidly, if not a hand brutally: audacity and boldness meant another sense went completely awry.

@[Adelric]


EREBOS
Clever got me this far
Then tricky got me in
Eye on what I'm after
I don't need another friend

Image Credits

Adelric Posts: 101
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 16.3hh :: 1.5 [Birdsong]
Tobias :: Common Cerndyr :: Lamplight Sevin
#2
Adelric
Limbs too long for his body carry the hybrid child across the land. When his mother chose his name she picked one that meant noble commander- Adelric, a name meant for a prince of the land. But he is no prince. He is simply a pauper in disguise, a commoner born on a bed of dirt and licked clean by a cat instead of his mother. Indeed, he wears a crown upon his head, but it is simply a mask that hides his equine heritage and he is so many halves that, already, he cannot understand what it means to be whole. He owns half of his mother's love- a twin to the filly Zünden who requires just as much care and attention as himself. He is a half-blood, both equine and unicorn and not understanding which is his real calling. And, in fact, he is but half a unicorn, his spear little more than a nub that protrudes as a bump from his forehead. He is half-colored, neither his roan nor his Appaloosa spots covering his entire body. Even his eyes cannot decide what they are supposed to be- one side yellow and one side green. Still, perhaps most importantly, he only has half of a family, his father little more than a whisper in his memory. So, with his mother close by, the half-child wanders off, trying to find something that will make him feel whole, if there is anything on this earth that can accomplish the feat.

He is alone for a moment, perhaps the state it is best for him to be in, when something dark (something whole!) goes flying past him in a flurry of legs. The curious child peaks back once, then again, to make sure his mother is busy attending to his other half, before he kicks up his heels and canters after the black freight train that has passed him by. For a moment, the half-child fears he will never catch up the flying demon, but then the inevitable happens. Foal limbs, not made to carry too-thin bodies at blazing speed, crumble under the demon. Instinctively, Adelric slows to a trot, cocking his head to the side as he loses the demon child behind the knoll that his downed him. Ah, but the demon has luck on his side. As Adelric crests the mound and halts, he finds the black mass glaring, but none the worse for the ware. For a moment the half-child just watches, categorizing, taking things in. His two colored eyes make him half a whole, but also give him a unique perspective from which to view the earth. Is he supposed to glare when he falls? Is he supposed to blame others for his misfortunes instead of blaming himself for his inadequacies? He ponders, but his young brain has no answers for questions far beyond his ability to contemplate.

What he forgets to meditate upon is what he should be saying to the demon that he has followed, the creature that has crumbled before him and risen from the ashes of his failure, this phoenix of the night. It suddenly occurs the pauper that he has no right to stand before this mythical beast, this king, this child who is whole, and it is then that words fail him. Already, this young child is subservient, made to feel inadequate by his lack of family and lack of wholeness. But subservience does not imply stupidity. Already, the child wonders (if not so eloquently) if he can watch this phoenix burn as he flies and learn something from him on how to be whole.
Brush Credit
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Adelric at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.

Please do not tag Adelric unless it is in an opening post

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#3

Impertinence and insolence faded off into the abyss, another slight and barb molded into the child’s cranium for perusal and exposure. Should he constantly watch where he’s going, instead of driving his heart, his soul, his malevolence, his spirit, his essence, into the terrain, carving out a niche and sculpting out a purpose through his cataclysmic interludes? The notion was intriguing, having to be always aware of one’s surroundings held potential for forgoing the finer things in life (brooding and mulling over states of affairs, washing away the spells and snares of the day), but he also had no wish, no yearning, to always find his face in the dust. He held no wanton plea to be embarrassed and ashamed. The ruminations were cut short, his attention diverted from one thing to the next, cataclysms of knolls and rolling hills giving way to sights, to sounds, to newcomers hastened over the horizon. No sooner had he risen from his shallow ground, no worse for wear, no bones jarred out of place, lanky columns soothed and ruffled over as if naught had happened, then another appeared, jettisoning his gaze towards a creature who bore distinct similarities and differences between the pair. The other child was spotted, rimmed with dots and hues, and even some wiring marks across his neck (a scar, perhaps a birth-right, like the little lord’s skull, borne of might, fear, and condemnation?). The most alarming thing was the horn faceted and growing out of his brow, much like his own! How many existed like them, fueled and brewed into swords, rapiers, and cutlasses, mighty, dashing, and powerful? He almost coveted the idea of comparing their sizes, but on the reality of the growing silence, the blue child merely shifted his weight from side to side. What did one do in situations like these, where the world opened and other lives were tossed before them? His mother would have nodded, all gentle tranquility, tender rain, showers and droplets cascading from the generous plume of her smile. His father would have worn a blank visage, entirely masked and indifferent, speculative and devouring, Machiavellian and pressing. Erebos didn’t know how to mold either one to his face, and instead, attempted some form of charisma, turning his lips into a juvenile grin, all boyhood and impishness. “Hello!” His voice seemed to boom over the little bank, rounding over the mound as a flock of gulls with little leisure, presumption, or finesse – too much candor, too much boisterousness. However, the lad attempted to nurture his dam’s kindness, his father’s calculations, feeding the waves of enigmas with foundling queries. “Who’re you?” Then, forgetting his prior experiences, he forged ahead in a light dash, swift, ignited by wonder, by companionship, rising to meet the other colt mere yards away. The smile elongated, and his cranium tipped in an infantile tilt, speculative and sincere, before drifting in lively, exuberant tones again. “You have a horn like me!” He swung his head to and fro, appealing to the senses of his blade cutting through the short thralls of wind and breezes, waiting for the day when its serrated edge became useful, beneficial, a short slip into decay and demise.




EREBOS
Clever got me this far
Then tricky got me in
Eye on what I'm after
I don't need another friend

Image Credits

Adelric Posts: 101
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 16.3hh :: 1.5 [Birdsong]
Tobias :: Common Cerndyr :: Lamplight Sevin
#4
Adelric
Adelric watches as the night phoenix shifts and wonders to what purpose the child hems and haws. Does the half-child make him nervous? Adelric cannot fathom such a phenomenon, cannot imagine a world where half a whole is enough to make all of a whole dance and wobble atop his limbs under the weight of anxiety. No, there must be something else here, something else brewing that makes the night phoenix act the way he does. Either Erebos is simply bored of the silence, bored already by the inadequate presence of the half-child, or there is something else atop the crest of the hill that Adelric himself should be shifting and swaying for. Cautiously, he turns his head to the left and the right, looking around him for any sign of predator that has come to end his half-life and turn him to meal instead of life. He sees nothing, so then he looks for a mother that has come to steal him away from his explorations. There is no mother either, simply himself and the grass and the child does not know what to make of this new information. He has almost decided on himself being an inadequate form of company when a voice breaks the air and he turns his head straight again. The night phoenix has spoken.

As for himself, the half-child is shocked in speech. “Hello,” he responds, his voice steadier than one might expect for his internal deliberations. Even the half-child is surprised at how steady his voice sounds. In the face of his family he is comfortable but he has never met outside of them and he had not guessed he would react so well. “Adelric. Wh-” But he stops, hesitates, and his resolute facade crumbles into the wind. Is he allowed to return the question, allowed to pry into the night phoenix's life and take a name from him when he is so inadequate to receive it? He decides to try, test the waters, finding his voice just as the phoenix meets him atop the hill. “Who are you?” Luckily, he does not have time to wonder whether his words have offended the whole child as he is meant with a whole topic to wonder about. “What if I didn't?” The question is not rude, no hint of malice or darkness. It is genuinely curious, the question of a child who has not been faced with the statement before and wonders why it is important to note. Still, he eagerly tries what the night phoenix does, swaying his head to feel the horn slice through the air. A smile lights his face as he finds he likes the sensation and he wonders why he hasn't done this before.
Brush Credit
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Adelric at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.

Please do not tag Adelric unless it is in an opening post

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#5

A tad impulsive, a smidgen uninhibited, he absorbed the tone, the appearance, the presence of the other colt as one would a newly discovered friend, fresh from the hilltops, copses, and canopies. He traced the foundations of the other like an artist’s master-hand, crafting brushstrokes, queries, sketches, inquiries, fascinated, engrossed, captivated by the wonders of curiosity and the brilliant pulse of a child’s mind. He wanted to know everything, and started from the brink of companionship, toying, playing, curling and coiling into manifestations of brethren, of fellow beings, with as much gusto as he glided upon the wind. Even if the other, Adelric, seemed hesitant, unsure, reserved through the unveiling of his name, questions sprung and leaping, or the buoyancy of the hour, Erebos paid almost no mind. If he should have been ashamed, repentant, or rueful, he was still neither of those things, unrestricted, unbarred, fledgling interest and abandon swallowing the inadequacies of his adamant sentiments. He tested his own voice again, lowered it so the pitch, the decibels, the rise of his tone wasn’t such a sharp keen, or massive carillon that alerted a watchful dam to come looking. “I am Ere-" The name itself was a tongue twister, formed by several syllables and diction hard to form across an unpracticed tongue (after all – he hadn’t had to introduce himself before – an exciting venture on its own!), and he ducked his head to nurse it quietly, muttered and toiled, practiced and tumbled, until he could properly finish. Proudly, he tried once more, lifting his cranium, dignified, arrogant cutlass-child. “Erebos.” His grin took on more boyish interludes, content with the formation of his name into proper letters, sounds, appropriate pronunciation lingering into depths of power and desolation. Because it meant gloom and dusk and darkness, it simply couldn’t be displayed or prospered without the proper weight, the right balance, or the most potent of calculations. It was an augured herald, and he wanted to encompass its syntax, its significance, its implication.

Except, in a childish haze, in a wondering plume or fanning abyss, a scion, a babe, had no need to appear sinister, nefarious, or malicious – even with the right fortitude and tools to embolden the opportunity. So his mischief faltered, and instead he took to listening to the hesitant Adelric, who didn’t seem empowered or liberated by his name, who asked questions to which Erebos could only tip his head once more and gloss over his own experiences. What if I didn’t? Would he be like those horses Huyana conjured with her bedtime stories, when the dusky droves haunted the moon and laid him to sleep, where she rustled and wove drumbeats of his ancestors vanquishing, conquering (and seeing his enlightened expression on the hymns of war, suddenly altering her fables into subjects of repose, tranquility and serenity for days thereafter, which weren’t nearly as interesting), old Gods and the new, and species dividing. Species - others dressed in equine garb but so different, so altered, from the formation of horns, of swords, of rapiers erupting from their brows. He’d heard sagas of flying beasts breathing menace and rue, and plain barbarians with their dragons (dragons, another subject worth ruminating upon), following, devouring, or dreaming, but he’d yet to meet any of them. Their home was composed entirely of bladed individuals, and even their scimitars, foils, and sabers were all constructed divergently. He pressed Adelric’s question with one of his own, layered it with the same excitement, vigor, fervor, and enthusiasm as before – sea-blue eyes widening, entranced. “Would you have wings? Mother says there are some horses with wings!”



EREBOS
Clever got me this far
Then tricky got me in
Eye on what I'm after
I don't need another friend

Image Credits

Adelric Posts: 101
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 16.3hh :: 1.5 [Birdsong]
Tobias :: Common Cerndyr :: Lamplight Sevin
#6
Adelric
Adelric watches the night phoenix as he tries to wrap his lips around his name, a name too macabre for the child who has eyes yet full of life. Erebos. But the half-child is less concerned with the child's name, and rather more interested in the fact that he has been answered and there has been no hint of malice or disgust. He has been gifted with a word seemingly so simple, so little, that to the passerby it may not seem very important; however, to the half-child it is an endowment that almost makes him feel adequate. A smile graces his face and he can't help but wonder if this is what it is like to feel whole. It does not even occur to him that Erebos may not be the shining herald of wholeness, that his stutter over his name may indicate that the night phoenix has his own downfalls and struggles. No, the half-child is more interested in studying his new companion- his new friend, even?- to see how he can grow and mold himself into something more than just the child with no father.

But can young Adelric live his life trying to make himself more whole than what he is? Can he live a fulfilling life if he is so worried about what parts of him make him unfulfilled? The child does not think these things, does not ponder them, his mind too young to dance through the intricate philosophical dilemma offered by the idea. But with his father mysteriously disappeared, one of his mothers busy with his twin and his other mother secluded to take care of her own newborn, the boy has not told anyone how he feels and, as a child, would not have the words anyways. So he struggles through life already. But is this... is this what friends are for? He looks again to the night phoenix and wonders to what extent he can be trusted, to what extent he will be a confidant instead of just an acquaintance.

But now his attention is diverted, pulled in a new direction, and the child can't help but look to the sky. Horses with wings? Heterochromic eyes search the blue sky, daring to believe this mysterious tale of which he has heard nothing before. Indeed, if it is a tale, the half-child has been entirely duped and instantly his mind has conjured wondrous images of himself twisting through the air, doing acrobatics high above the ground, feeling free from the constraints of gravity. “My mothers didn't tell me about horses with wings,” he responds, eyes still trained on the sky. Eventually, he returns his gaze to the night phoenix but he does not know how to answer. He has reached a cross roads where one road points to yes and one leads to no and, if these roads remain diverged past the horizon, he is not sure which answer is the right one in order to keep Erebos in his life. So, he hedges. “Would you?” And though he knows he lies, though he knows instantly that he would have wings if given the choice, he lets the night phoenix decide for him.
Brush Credit
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Adelric at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.

Please do not tag Adelric unless it is in an opening post

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#7

The child considered the query as if the philosophy behind it was earth shattering and spell binding. His alluring gaze rose towards the heavens, the skies, and pondered over its divinity, its threshold, if he could be a bird within its depths, swooping, cawing, and gliding with the air, with the wind, with the breeze, naught between the earth and the mind. There were bound to be some advantages with floating upon the clouds: he’d be able to get places easier, faster, swifter, flying amongst the sovereigns and empires, deciding what was to be conquered, what was to be swallowed, spying and entreating himself to all the delicacies of a winsome babe. He could dive down upon enemies and rivals, if he ever acquired any, in a eagle embrace, slash with feral talons or peck at manes, croon and chirp his delight at their squandered, feeble attempts to give chase to his excellent calculations. But, disadvantages also prospered through his juvenile conjectures, and the most important resolved itself into a flagged lament: family. He’d have to leave them behind on his journeys to the horizon, for he couldn’t see his father altering his form to a flier – there was too much pride in being one with a sword, in power and might. His mother would stay upon the ground, resolute and solid, peaceful and harmonic, not wishing to disturb the further reveries and resolve of nature. His sister, Loth, might have followed him into the clouds, if he promised some sort of profit or convenience, but she’d wish to climb back down too, and be nestled amongst their brethren again. In the end, could he have sprouted feathers, shown off his remarkable plumage, for the sake of losing his loved ones? No – the decision was brief, but final. He wouldn’t bear to part with those that cherished him, those that loved him, those that embraced him for his faults (these wobbling legs), for his strengths (the Cheshire grin, the maddening lengths he’d go for stories), and for everything in between. Whether or not Adelric felt the same didn’t quite occur to Erebos, and he duly noted his resolution, his conclusion, with a steady note and an unfulfilled flight to Valhalla. “No. I wouldn’t want to leave my family.” The lad’s eyes returned back to the spotted colt, and his smile became a restored artifact, devilish and imp-like. “But maybe once in a while.” His stare gestured back to the sky again, in all of its haunting power, and trickled some ghostly captivation beyond his precision and capabilities. “It’d be fun to pretend to be a bird.”

Staggering back to the present, away from the daunting chimeras of his youthful imagination, he glanced along the fields once or twice, waiting to see if his dam had noticed his disappearance. When he realized she hadn’t crept up to take him home, the roguish smile returned, broadening, widening – and in a conspiring glimmer, a tactful whisper, he invoked juvenile interludes towards the other foal. “Do you want to play a game? Or race?” He saw opportunities laden before him, and couldn’t resist the experience of amusement and diversions when presented so neatly and conveniently.



EREBOS
Clever got me this far
Then tricky got me in
Eye on what I'm after
I don't need another friend

Image Credits

Adelric Posts: 101
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 16.3hh :: 1.5 [Birdsong]
Tobias :: Common Cerndyr :: Lamplight Sevin
#8
Adelric
For a moment, a breath, the child fears he has said the wrong thing. He has tried to hedge, to let the night phoenix take the lead and be right. He has tried because he though he fears he does not deserve the friendship of this onyx master he feels selfish. He wants it and so he will do anything to keep it. So why does the night phoenix stare at the sky like Adelric has asked him the very meaning of life? If he could know the phoenix's thoughts, hear them like the clouds hear the wind, then the child would not have been concerned. Now, he worries that he has said the wrong thing. After all, he has said the wrong thing before. As he waits for an answer, his heart seems to seize in his chest. He has ruined the sprouting web of friendship and thrashed the delicate lines of silk that tie him to the whole child.

But, ah! No! He has not ruined the silk. The whole child was simply pondering, of course. Adelric chastises himself for being so eager for a response that he has wrongly judged the child before him. He has made a mistake. But he cannot dwell on his mistake, he can only learn from it, so he vows to remember this moment and use it later. The next time he is too eager he will wait. Or, at least... he will try. But he cannot wait now, he should answer, respond to the night phoenix and turn the strand of silk into something strong, something less apt to break with a single wrong breath. “Just to pretend, though,” the lie spilling through his teeth far too easily for a colt this young. Where did he learn it? He doesn't know, but he has tasted the deceit on his tongue and he likes that it helps him co-exist with this princely colt. If this is what it takes to make himself worthy of some sort of friendship, a lie to build the ego of another, then he is surprisingly alright with it.

But now he has come to a new dilemma. Truth be told, no, he doesn't want to play but it isn't because he doesn't want to have fun. He does, he surely does! But trouble comes with having fun and he weighs his options carefully. A game... what sort of game? Is it a game of skill that he can throw on purpose, a game where he can let the night phoenix take the lead and come out ahead? Or is it a game of luck where his own luck might prevail? To win would not be adventitious, he wants to build Erebos' ego, not harm it. Of course, the other option does not seem that much better to him. A race would be easy to lose. Even if he was faster than Erebos (which he doubts, given his draft heritage and thicker bones) he could always slow down, let the black prince pull ahead and win. But what- he bites his tongue to even think of it- what if the night phoenix falls again like he did going over the hill? What if he trips over his feet and falls to the earth. Adelric cannot control that and it scares him because if Erebos falls and Adelric stands then he is obviously the winner. What to do?

In the end he decides that it is more likely he will be able to lose a game than prevent the night phoenix from the falling to the earth and so he takes charge, picks a game that does not really require any luck. It is a calculated risk, because Erebos could object to the game anyways, but it is a risk that the half-child must take because there are only so many options before him. Stepping forward and leading his head down, Adelric tries to butt his stump of a horn (Erebos seems to like horns) against Erebos' shoulder and then backs up, turning around to canter away. “You're it!” he calls out, running away just a little too slow to remain inconspicuous. He wants Erebos' to be able to catch him, but not to know that he has made it easy for him; unfortunately, he is a foal and foals make mistakes. He will learn.
Brush Credit
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Adelric at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.

Please do not tag Adelric unless it is in an opening post

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#9

For a few seconds, the colt wondered again. Would Adelric hasten to the act, tumble and roll, enjoy the efforts of ebullience? He seemed quiet, implacable, pensive and reflective, and while these certainly weren’t faults or flaws, the blue scion thought perhaps he’d offended the other child, and he was about to be refused. Perhaps he’d never anticipated or considered another’s frustration, vexation, at the art or act of amusement. Was Adelric too shy? Maybe he was made of diffidence and reservations, preferring the reticent shards of life, of shadows and streams? The lengthy pause gave him a slight respite, and he waited for disappointment to follow (but how lovely it would have been to pull some excitement, some danger, some energetic qualities from his newfound friend, to create and forge the connections of their meeting through innocent diversions and loud, raucous chuchling).

However, Erebos needn’t had worried. The challenge was accepted, and the juvenile’s core churned into a burning, frenetic energy of untamed spirit. He thought of nothing thereafter beyond the essence of trials, tests, and quests, of all the founding things empowering, emboldening the passionate, the determined. Was this a mighty odyssey, reaching towards the stars, the heavens, the heathenous bounties of their deliverance? Was this a snippet worth savoring, a true crusade of wonder, of might, of supremacy? However, he wasted no time in his pursuits – the child longed to call something his own, to catch and ignite powers beyond his imagination; to be one with the merciless crowd, to fold into the slate and veils of the shrouded shadows, but he’d need to grow, need to possess, need to hone the fine edges of a keen blade, of a swift stride, before the culmination, before the results of any of his desires. Naught remained, surfaced, in his cranium but the audacity of the moment, the purpose of his resolute, vivacious aspirations, and the pure delight sliding across his lips, the Cheshire grin inflated, elongated, into coiled, juvenile mettle. The idle stump upon Adelric’s brow swindled his right shoulder, a call to arms, a recognition of battle, a slide of confirmation and adherence to the triumphs and victories laden at their feet (and he pictured his father, the Reaper, mauling his enemies, draining their lives away, pretended to feel the curls of conquest thriving about his veins). Easily strung along in his exuberance, in his rebellious, unbridled enthusiasm, his limbs laced into minute pistons, driving valor, pluck, and predilection into the lanky columns, into the gangly pillars, hoping to achieve speed, quickness, rapid, prompt movements without prior results (how embarrassing it would be to fall once more upon one’s face, taste dirt in their mouth again, dishonored, foolish). Though they weren’t quick to respond to such calls, they embarked on their beckoned munitions, gallivanting towards the spotted colt, unaware of any foul play. Perhaps the other was merely a slower combatant – though his sire would refute that even those were not to be considered lightly, with more build, with more muscle, came more force, brawn, should a touch be laced upon one’s hide.

His calculations ceased there; too young to regard anything more than brief, impulsive ruminations, too excited to do more than process, then pummel, he reached toward the fellow colt, hoping to poise his velvety muzzle across the lad’s withers, just a graze, just a stroke of infidel bravado. The boldness, the assurance, the confidence, leaked out in few words, as loud and raucous as ever, childhood spirals of the daring, before their infantile steps led them to slaughter. “No, you!” He laughed, boyish and youthful, enjoyment plucking at the nefarious, devious little heart pulsing within his chest. Not a second later, he bounded across the hills, inviting chase, granting trails and tracking devices, forging through long blades of grass in peals of giggles and merriments. He twisted and turned along their ticklish endeavors, coming towards a lone tree in the midst, dancing and waltzing around it, purposefully slowing his stride, coaxing, drawing, the flames, the embers, the coals of further play.



EREBOS
Clever got me this far
Then tricky got me in
Eye on what I'm after
I don't need another friend

Image Credits

Adelric Posts: 101
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 16.3hh :: 1.5 [Birdsong]
Tobias :: Common Cerndyr :: Lamplight Sevin
#10
Adelric
The half-child strikes true and within moments the Night Phoenix is after him. But while Erebos dreams of his father's conquests, the half-child does not know what to dream of. His true mother is gentle, a healer by trade. She does not stab others with horns, she does not inflict pain or wish harm. And his other mother is a spy, a slave to the shadows. He knows little of her craft but he cannot imagine her slender frame in battle, cackling over fallen enemies, blood smeared across her delicate mouth. Perhaps if he knew his father, he would know of a warrior to emulate- a warrior to try and make proud. But he does not know Krieger other than the faintest of images, does not know that his father is hate-monger, a beast, a monster. And though he is young, just a babe barely burst forth from the womb, it already pains him that he does not know what to aspire to.

At least for now, he is provided a distraction.

As he looks back, he sees the Night Phoenix running towards him and suddenly he forgets himself. He forgets that he wants to lose, forgets that he should not desire to come out on top because he is not worthy. So he urges his limbs to churn faster against the ground. His efforts are too late, of course. Erebos touches the half-child's withers, grazes them with teeth that are more worthy to bite in malice than in play. But still the child has forgotten himself and he laughs along with the black prince, boyish voice spilling out with abandon. This is fun- real fun- like he has not known it before. “I'll get you!” he calls back, though try as he might his already-heavier body cannot quite keep pace with that of Erebos. He falls behind as Erebos charges ahead, Adelric urging his half-legs onward, onward, onward! Still, it seems he is too slow.

But ah, Erebos is a good friend and he dances around a tree that has appeared upon the field. So while Erebos circles one way, Adelric tries to go the other- to meet the young demon head on. He is not mindful of the roots that jut from the earth, however, and he trips, awkward limb foals flailing to try and save him from the very fate that Erebos met earlier. He fails, tumbling to the earth. He is scraped here and there, surely his mother will ask why, but he has forgotten his cautious mind so he rushes back to his hooves, trying to find Erebos, to set him in his sites. Once risen, once balanced again, he finds his target and renews the chase with fervor and desire. Then, when he thinks he is close, he flicks his nose out, trying to butt it against Erebos' hip or side. Laughter mixed with heavy breaths spills from his throat and he turns, running back away from the tree to some other, yet unknown destination.

For now, he simply has fun.
Brush Credit
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Adelric at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.

Please do not tag Adelric unless it is in an opening post

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#11

The child, the dark scion, the wicked, impish lad, knew of fun, of exuberance, of carefree whimsy; not the cruel, bitter, rancorous barbs of havoc, of despair, of twisted, malicious entrails and forgotten bliss. He was lucky, blessed, and fortunate to have been brought into the world with a wonderful, loving family: one who cherished his existence, who kindled his knowledge, who fed his mighty little heart with all of the streamlined strength a boy could possess. He realized what it was like to be protected, preserved, treasured, and couldn’t begin to think of how others stood along this earth. Didn’t they all have a mighty, proud father, who could maul, mutilate, and desecrate his enemies? Didn’t they all have a wise, sagacious mother, who could mend a bruised ego, who could spin stories and webs of mistakes learned, of triumph over evil? Didn’t they all have siblings who demanded, who scolded, who pushed and expected the lands, the empires, to cater to their whims, who was eager to watch sovereignties unfold, uncurl, before them? Didn’t they all have a place to belong to – either a land of ice, a kingdom of meadows, valleys, and ocean breezes? Mountainsides, lacquered and relished in rampant winds, in polished snow? Caverns, deep and foreboding, menacing and awe-inspiring?

He didn’t know his friend didn’t grasp or possess many of these things. Lavished in a kind, innocent ignorance, he didn’t know the world could harbor and harpoon so many babes within the few weeks, months, of their birth, to void and scrape away their juvenile potential in one fell swoop – leave them rotting, ruined, withering into the tempest of defeat. Instead, he seized his strength, his fortitude, from the idle sway of his parents, tenderly plucking at the bestowals granted to him. Being akin to the prince and the pauper mattered very little to him: Adelric was a playmate, his first chosen and noteworthy companion. They simmered on the edges of the fields, they battled in the current of waving grass, they embarked in silly, nonsensical venues with no forethought, no hate, no malice, and only the ripened chords of laughter; he had naught to be melancholy over. He took hold of each blessing, each rippling chords of benefactors’ coins, and sought to embellish, heighten, their worth, their value, their mettle. Their play was a mission, a calculation, towards the whimsical machinations of a child: prospered in merriment, fueled by ebullience and contentment.

And even as Adelric faltered, stumbling over bothersome roots, Erebos thought to sneer at the wooden protrusions, grant his disappointment at their intrusion into their game. His devilish stare encountered a brief incantation of concern, much like his mother’s gaze, fixated upon a new blemish or his father’s damned silence, but the other child is set to rights – and like that, the game is back on. He had no time to further examine the thought of anxiety or apprehension for the fellow beast (if he’d been hurt, what could have the little scion done; another hour of speculation was necessary), because the layers he’d carefully provided, the artful orchestration of entertainment and all of its wonderful diversions had come back to haunt him in a contorting gambit. Adelric’s maw feasted upon his blue hide, and he’s designated back to the monster, the heathen, the chasing predator of the hour. He managed a brooding growl to exalt through his throat, thought to fashion himself into some carnivore of the thicket, brandished and emboldened by the chase, by the hunt. Not yet a warrior, just a seed, just a sprout, his imagination ran wild by the speculation of an untamed beast, savoring the puncture of his enemy. With untamed rapture, he dove after the spotted colt as they drifted away from the tree in tandem. In an instant, however, they’re absorbed into the pervading mist, into the ivory abyss, and his strides cease, his body halts, his predacious scheme evaporated with the crumbling venue. He called out through the sudden fog, into the heavenly warren, into the God breaths, hoping his companion has not been forced into ghostly, withering dungeons too. “Where’d you go?”



EREBOS
Clever got me this far
Then tricky got me in
Eye on what I'm after
I don't need another friend

Image Credits

Adelric Posts: 101
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 16.3hh :: 1.5 [Birdsong]
Tobias :: Common Cerndyr :: Lamplight Sevin
#12
Adelric
In these moments where the half child dances, weaves and flies over the land, he feels freer than he has felt since his birth. The wind whipping over his hair lifts his mane and tail, lifting his worries and woes with him. He is not Adelric the Half Child, destined for a life of mediocrity. He is Adelric the Noble Commander, embodying all of the glory that his name implies. The wind calls his name as he runs, directing him atop the mountain top. The tree, now behind him, waves its banners. Each leave is emblazoned with his name, his face, his crest, whipping through the wind and celebrating him as he throws his nose out and makes contact with the Night Phoenix's flesh. It is a jubilant time, a moment to celebrate, and he feels a smile crawl across his maw and laughter fall out. It is answered by the growl of the black prince, which drives Adelric onward.

But as the scenery celebrates him, it also works against him. A mist surrounds him. For a moment he runs on, but as the fog thickens, the half-child cannot help but slow to a walk. He cannot see far ahead of him, nor behind him, and as the fun of the game fades, the half-child begins to curse himself. He has forgotten himself, forgotten that he is not supposed to be winning. He turns, about to run back where he had come from in the hopes that he will run into the Night Phoenix and let Erebos tag him, but it is too late. The voice of the Demon Prince calls out and Adelric frowns. He is too late, too slow, he has already disappointed his friend. He begins to worry, looking nervously from side to side, but he does not see Erebos anywhere through the dense mist.

It is then that he begins to notice that his knees throb. Looking down, he sees crimson fluid flowing from cuts that he presumably gained when tripping over the roots of the tree. “I'm here- Erebos, look!” he cries out suddenly, all thoughts of the game long forgotten. A new mystery his arisen in his life, a new curious circumstance that he has thus far been unaware of. While he may have seen blood before on the day of his birth, he does not remember it and he would not have had time to investigate anyways. But now, here, with his new friend, Adelric is excited to uncover the mystery of this fluid that flows out of his body. “What do you think this is?” he asks as he thinks he see Erebos through the mist, looking back down to his knees which still leak blood slowly. Upon reaching down to touch it, he finds that it is warm and wet, a most curious thing indeed. His mothers milk is warm and wet, but it is certainly not red and he has only ever seen it flow from her teat. While he waits for an answer, his breaths come quickly as he tries to slow his fast-beating heart.

All the while, in the back of his scholarly brain, there is the worry that Erebos will not forgive him for running off into the mists. He hopes and prays that it will not cause any strife.
Brush Credit
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Adelric at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.

Please do not tag Adelric unless it is in an opening post

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#13

The mist and fog pervaded and surrounded, locked and absconded, and the little princeling’s curiosity became an unfounded, bolstered juncture all the more. What controlled the strange, incorporeal labyrinth? What conjured the mysterious haze? What laid it down to their level, corroded and corrupted, diabolical and machinating? He stretched his maw out to its seemingly substantial surface, waited to feel the soft, dulcet stroke of puffs and smoke, but the closer he got, the more it streamed away; intangible, ghostly, ethereal hints of otherworldly pawns. The questions failed to cease, unrelenting and juvenile, pondering and wondering of the state of his world. Were they trapped within its confines forever more, destined to live out their lives in the strange, exotic bliss of murk and gloom? Did it hold hidden treasures for them to find, or would it lead them towards damnation and destruction, yield them to cliff ramparts and fallen valleys, allow the ground to consume their flesh and rattle their bones? Was Adelric lost and tethered amongst the unearthly endeavors too, just as confused, just as muddled? The answer was postured a few moments later, crying out through the anarchic vapor, spotted hide seemingly uninhibited by the spellbinding fingertips and haunting poignancy of clouds and plumes. The dark scion didn’t know if he should have felt foolish, ashamed, or inept at how Adelric wasn’t bothered in the least by the sudden, swift change in the atmosphere, or if he’s truly just read into the rolling tempest too much. Maybe there weren’t any strangled offers by siren nymphs coiled amongst the bracken, and perhaps there were no treasures laden amongst swords and stones for them to discover. He nearly hung his head in vacuous claims, bewitched and blighted by supernatural prowess, weather patterns, and imagination (mother would smile, Loth would laugh, and father would try not to smirk).

But then, Adelric provided a whole new layer of exploration; familiarity brewed and brimmed within his mighty chest and valiant heart at the sight of the crimson stain flowing along the other boy’s knees. Ethereal, wraithlike, spectral hymns and terrain were almost completely forgotten by the notion of ichor and the flow of blood staining his companion’s frame. With no further misgivings, he drew forwards, lowering his head to inspect the newly gained wounds. Erebos had received many in his short time of life, either by previous rites (it wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last, he’d tumbled down a hill): tripping over sticks and brush in his dam’s favorite thickets, stumbling over rubble and stones gathered on beaches. He considered them scars of the vigilant, of the courageous, of the intrepid; enjoyed picturing them as blights of wars and sieges, when generals and their valiant armies asked him to join in their potent crusades, arriving back home with his sword and shield intact. Tools of the trade and ailments of the folly, doomed to be gained over and over again. His crude examination heralded another impish grin, and his rogue gaze settled back upon Adelric’s. “It’s blood – weird stuff that flows inside your body.” The lad tilted his head in further inquisition, tiny tendrils of mane flapping in the breeze. His tone took on a playful regard, mockingly serious vocals cascading and rippling about the feral, bleeding blemishes. “All good soldiers eventually bleed.” He laughed a moment later, reaching out to pat the spotted child on the shoulder good-naturedly. “At least you’ll have a cool scar?” Then, tangling his buoyant attributes with some personality traits his mother must have stamped into him, he etched his features into concern and apprehension. “Does it hurt?”




EREBOS
Clever got me this far
Then tricky got me in
Eye on what I'm after
I don't need another friend

Image Credits

Adelric Posts: 101
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 16.3hh :: 1.5 [Birdsong]
Tobias :: Common Cerndyr :: Lamplight Sevin
#14
Adelric
Perhaps the half-child, with all of his obscene curiosity, should have been pondering the swirl of the mists and the sway of the fog. Mayhaps he should have been concerned with the sudden apparition of the fog about him, but he had been surrounded by fog since his birth. The falls of his home spewed up mists and clouds daily, hourly, each minute a new swirl to the left or a new tendril to the right. He had pondered the way the fog twisted and swayed, the way it curled about itself and seemed to always change. He had searched the depths of the water droplets for a deeper meaning than just splashes in the air. He had not found one, of course, being so young and inexperienced as he was. So, he had long since given up trying to catch the fog with his nose, glean a deeper understanding from the forms it took, or trying to understand what made each convoluted shape found in the mist act the way it did. Indeed, the fog was a source of great frustration to him at times. He could count the ways a rabbit was different from a bird, name the ways a tree was different from a flower, but he could not give good name to the ways that the fog was different from the air around it other than its density. And to not know having tried to understand... But ah, the child would learn soon enough that the world does not always give the answers you expect of it.

But blood... Blood was an entirely different matter and as the child looked down at his knees he found that he was somewhat sick to his stomach, though not mentally disturbed. The sensation was curious and, rather than brood over it for long, the half-child decided to store the emotion for further investigation in his alone time. Indeed, being queasy was new to him. Did this substance hold some sort of power to make him feel that way? Bleeding was a whole new world to him of course and he, curious to see what would happen, licked his lips to study the difference between this red stuff (blood, as Erebos informs him) and milk and water. The metallic taste makes him frown and regret that he ever thought to use his sense of taste in his studies.

At least, though he failed to let the whole child win the game, Adie has succeeded in distracting him from the thought. In fact, in his ignorance of his own bodily fluids, Adelric seems to have captured the rapturous attention of the unicorn beast and, for the very first time, he is happy that he does not know something. Instead, he listens to the sage words of his young friend, looking back down to his knees as the tiny doctor makes his assessment. Blood flows in his body- having it outside the body is admirable and leads to scars, also seemingly a good thing. The half-child is not sure that he agrees, but Erebos' confidence in the matter is similar to his sister's eagerness for bloodshed. Now, knowing what blood is, many of his twins' comments suddenly make sense and he notes to himself that he will tell her of his bloodshed today. It was not a true battle here atop the mountain, but he thinks that telling her of his future scar will impress her and make her like him more. “I bet you'll bleed a lot, then,” he says finally, hoping to imply that Erebos will make a grand soldier. “It hurts a little,” he admits then, his voice suddenly hesitant again, uncertain where the fine line between weakness being a benefit and a downfall lies.

“I want to see you again... Where do you live?” he asks suddenly, as the feeling of Erebos' nose upon his shoulder fades away. He has realized that if he does not know, if he does not find out, then he might never see this night phoenix again and how, if that is the case, will he ever learn to be whole again? It is a bold move, to so openly force his friendship upon the black prince, but this is his chance and he has to take it.
Brush Credit
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Adelric at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.

Please do not tag Adelric unless it is in an opening post

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#15

Erebos, unfortunately, didn’t have the notion, wherewithal, or motivation to become a mender. He was far too immersed into the world of crusades, campaigns, and toy soldiers, running amuck over the herd lands like wicked cavalry, conspiring to slay monsters, demons, and blackguards. Juvenile intrigue and curiosity held his stare upon Adelric’s wounds, but he contained no noteworthy way to care for his friend’s ailments, and he pondered over them with a furrowed brow and crude examination. His mother would know what to do, because she was wise and omniscient, caring and benevolent. Maybe she’d croon and tell a story about a time she’d acquired bloody knees too, in the days beyond Helovia, in some other foreign land he’d never seen. He inclined, slanted, angled his noble crown and cutlass, offered his sentiments in the best way he could with the audacious spring of a new memory. “I fell across some rocks once on the shore.” The lad nodded good-naturedly, then mulled over the threads of thereafter, how Huyana, with all of her worldly knowledge and kind words, praise and merits, had gently coaxed him into the sea, to wash away the foils and tribulations of the day. “My mother took me into the water and had it wash the blood away.” He wrinkled his nose, remembering the slight twitch of pain as the waves’ salt had cleansed the wounds, but bit and tore at the skin, as if healing always carried a small amount of discomfort and torment to solidify the occasion, choke and smother it into memory. “Do you want to do that?” The little prince, with his hidden cloaks and daggers, his infidel smiles and cretin looks, could only hazard a guess to a location of a spring nearby, but it was worth a shot – and perhaps it would make Adelric feel better. There was always a chance the other colt wouldn’t bother; maybe he wanted to wear the battered, broken bits of skin as badges of courage, fired upon and dragged away in the line of duty, forged in the bracken and decay of the earth. Eventually, the youthful indulgences of play would fade away from their frames, and true, real, corporeal scars would cross over their figures, etch and sketch stories, myths, strengths and honor alongside swooping lines and bloodied trails. For now, these little marks counted just as much. I bet you’ll bleed a lot then - he didn’t know whether to be proud or weary, ponder if the Reaper had through the stitches and seams on his argent pelt – so he didn’t answer, the words trapped in his throat.

The colt, instead, chimed and listened to the sudden reverberations of Adelric’s interest, and because he wondered about his homelands, the lissome scion could nearly wax poetical upon the subject. He thought about the mountains reaching for the sky, the narrow, icy trails, the glowing, glittering caverns with so many wonderful things contained inside (one held a mirror, mother had said, a reflection to the Gods), and he wanted to tell the spotted figure everything about the fantastic world. It made him proud, content, pleased, to think about the empire he was born into, with his father leading their bladed countenances and aurora highlights dancing in the chilled evenings, the lake that never melted, the hot springs steaming into midnight tendrils. He nearly exploded with the thought of it, his little heart pattering wildly in his chest, untamed and reverent to the cold, to the glaciers, to the vibrant walls encased in mystery and awe. Instead, his vocals concocted and composed the notion for him, fervent, ardent, and passionate in his extended excitement, eyes widened, bright. “I live in the Aurora Basin! Have you heard of it?” Others must have known something so grand, and then he thought over the sovereigns beyond, where Adelric must live (because he didn’t smell like the Basin, didn’t coat himself in snow and rime), what other paradises and utopias could be found along murky mists and tempting seas. “What about you?”





EREBOS
Clever got me this far
Then tricky got me in
Eye on what I'm after
I don't need another friend

Image Credits

Adelric Posts: 101
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 16.3hh :: 1.5 [Birdsong]
Tobias :: Common Cerndyr :: Lamplight Sevin
#16
Adelric
Water washes wounds, he notes, as per the whole child's story. One more thing to store in his childish mind, one more notion to recall and regurgitate when the time is appropriate. This meeting today was seemingly serendipitous, but now the half-child wonders if it was a design of the gods. He was meant to watch the night phoenix tumble and then rise from his ashes, meant to play their game of chase and fall upon the roots of the tree, meant to bleed here in the fog so that he might learn, might grow closer, make a friend. His first friend. He smiles.

In response to his friend’s question, he looks around. The mist is thick, he cannot see anything, so he moves off slightly until the air grows clear again. There is still no water in sight and he wonders if the night phoenix knows of some secret pool of water up here that Adelric himself has not yet noticed. A call over the plain distracts him- his mother’s voice. Perhaps he is lucky that she called when she did, however, as he would have nearly been frightened to death at the silence that remained on Erebos’ lips after Adelric mentioned him bleeding. He would worry he had offended, said the wrong thing, hurt his friend’s feelings when he had not meant to. He would have cringed from the glass he had shattered. Their friendship was, as of yet, a fragile house. If he shattered the glass walls before brick could be laid around them… It was lucky then, that he was distracted, frowning, that his mother should pick now to call to him.

He begins to shift and sway, unwilling to leave just yet, but also honor-bound to respond to his mother’s call. But he remains a moment longer as the night phoenix speaks of his homeland. There is love in his voice, honor, excitement, fervor- all feelings the half child knows well, but not necessarily for his homeland. He does not yet feel pride for the Falls the way that Erebos feels pride for the snowy mountains. He loves his home because his mothers are there, his sisters, and yet… There is no patriotism, no dire need to stay there for the entirety of his life. It almost makes him feel bad that Erebos is so enraptured by his homeland- should he, Adelric wonders, be so enchanted?

But to the question, the half-child can only shake his head. His mother has not mentioned the Aurora Basin, presumably to hide its existence. His father lives there, though he does not know it; a father, as it seems, that his mother has no intention of ever letting them join. “The Hidden Falls,” he responds, without any of the love in his voice that Erebos has possessed, but still rather pleased with himself that the night phoenix has not taken his question as too brash. But another cry comes through the air, this time followed by his name, and Adelric shifts again. “My mother calls, I have to go,” he says sadly, looking over his shoulder in Kiara’s direction. “But I’ll find you again soon!” he promises, smiling broadly and then taking off towards his mother, wincing once or twice as he remembers the pain in his knees. Sneaking a final look back, the half-child calls out a goodbye.
Brush Credit
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Adelric at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.

Please do not tag Adelric unless it is in an opening post


Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture