the Rift


[OPEN] Quiet like a fight [herd meeting of sorts]

Aviya Posts: 59
Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 4 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Time
#21
Aviya watched the scene unfold from her cave, the pelt of lynx Tamlin had given her so long ago the only item inside the room that was merely a stone's throw from her father's dwelling--the dwelling he had shared with Kou. Aviya was sick to her stomach thinking about her mother, but her father had told her to hold herself strong and with pride. She would do just that.

Stepping into the fray of the herd, Aviya listened well. The God of the Spark had named this mare as lead in place of Illynx. Aviya gave a small, nearly inaudible hmph as a response. Illynx was not Aviya's favorite creature in this realm--no, she had dug her hole with Mauja. The golden bitch did not let Aviya kill the spotted bastard's offspring when all it deserved was death. It's mother, too, deserved death for bedding with the traitor king. He had disappeared when his people needed him, causing Psyche's disappearance. Aviya would be hard pressed to ever forgive the Frostheart. With her frosted tail lashing darkly across her hocks, Aviya settled next to her father, with the glowing Aramis between them. The dark princess dipped her masked face some, watching the blood-painted hybrid. Aviya knew she held equine blood, d'Artagnan had taught her everything he knew of Helovia, including which companions were able to bond to which species. This new Lady had a dragon at her side, causing bile to seethe at the back of the Poisoner's daughter's throat. Her icy eyes narrowed with distaste and her ears flattened some, but she did not open her mouth to spit on this new queen.

Instead, her eyes flickered to the stout god that spoke. There was a rampant murderer in these lands, it seemed, and that caused the princess' ears to perk again. Kou. Aviya took a hesitant step forward, her mind drained of the anger she felt from the new royalty, and flooded with intense curiosity and need. "God of the Spark," She started, truly unknowing what she should call him, "One of our most loyal and dedicated herd members has fallen at the hooves of another. She was a long-time nurse, ranked since you gave us this home. Her name was Kou, she was white." Aviya tried to describe her mother for the god, to perhaps stimulate his memory of her--as if the God of Time needed so--before she continued on her inquiry, "Can you reveal her murderer?"

Aviya's eyes flickered behind her to her father momentarily, seeking his strength and support, before turning some to Deimos to, again, seek strength and support. She settled, finally, resting her pleading eyes on the God of the Spark.

Keep your head down
Untill I tell you to speak
image by imi

Torleik the Bloodskald Posts: 354
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 11 HP: 66.5 | Buff: SWIFT
Irelyn :: Plain Griffin :: Molten Dagger RedGod
#22
Torleik the Bloodskald

Separate



The Bloodskald was unprepared for a god to suddenly enter their midst as if it was the most normal occurrence, let alone the one he immensely disliked for reasons that were...very personal. The God of the Spark simply waltzed up as if everything was normal, nothing amiss, like he was eternally amused by their mortal machinations. Torleik's pleasure that, for once, a god agreed with him was nearly instantaneously dashed when the deity's words continued.

"Ophelia has...been around."

The spiteful, jealous rage that erupted from a crater in his chest that had been poorly filled with hollow words and platitudes was violent, and the Basin General's eyes blazed with a hateful fire. A barely concealed sneer shadowed his scarred lips when the Time God declared Ophelia the new Lady of the Basin.

Of course, was the succinct, acerbic thought that scraped across his brain like a bear's claw. The stallion kept himself rooted to the spot just long enough to bear Ophelia's speech, then pried himself from her side. Somewhere in his heart he felt pain for his cousin; how confused Ulrik must be at feeling so strongly over anything when feelings did not come easy to him. The rabicano's gaze, though hazy with rage, saw how the Engineer trembled and as he passed, he paused and pressed his muzzle to the bronzed shoulder.

"I will help you find your family. Our family," he murmured quietly, then dipped his head and continued his path away from the group, back to his cave. Irelyn's confusion was clear through their bond but Torleik refused to acknowledge it now. Not now. He could not do this now. His direction had been intended for home but he hadn't ended up there. Instead, he found himself staring at the hot springs - and why not? He hadn't done anything for his body in a long time. The heat would soothe him, right?

Right.

Screw everyone else.

"talk talk talk"

Art by araxel @ DA
[Image: 531c0b471919e]

No man is an island.
Pixel by: Tamme :D


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Sialia Posts: 169
Outcast atk: 6 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 8 Years HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Nessie
#23
I Ain't Got Time To Bleed


The words swirl around, hatred in some, love and devotion in others. But like he always did the god of the spark appeared, without seeming to appear. It was like he had always been there. Black dipped ears turned to him, as did the two toned face. My crown dips in respect to him, black and blue horn lowering. He speaks, and I watch. I am mildly shocked. Ophelia? Leader? I wanted to bark out a laugh at the audacity. I liked her, but she had only been here for such a short period of time. Where was Illynx? Where was the woman who had saved my daughters and I's life from that bitch Aviya? Anger rolled through me at the thought of that cowardly filly. She who would attack a newborn and a mother right after childbirth. No, she wouldn't have killed either of us. I would have ripped her pretty little throat out if she had.

But soon all my questions would be answered. Others spoke, and it amazes me at the group that seems to have formed around us now. They gather, quickly. But one creature misses my gaze. The golden boy of Illynx's... Thranduil. Where was he? He chose not to investigate this most curious event? Many others I do not recognize, but felt that they had been here longer than I had by a long stretch.

More words, passed, and all the curiosity's I had held, soon where dismissed. But on the subject of the lady Illynx, I was dissatisfied. It seemed like a foolish cover up. That the Gilded Blade would leave without sign on some trip. Certainly she would have told someone. My blue eyes turn upon the bronze and black Engineer in pity, however it doesn't show in my eyes or face. If I should ever loose Glacia, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. I would be broken. My eyes move down to the filly who had now moved herself close to me. She stared in wonder at all those around. A smirk lifts my lips. I really have kept her in the dark this whole time.

But then someone arrives that I want to smash. She arrives with a hmph, and I remember the promise I made her the last time we had met. Tear out that bitches fucking throat. Anger rolls off me in waves. My ears slowly slip downward in a menacing fashion. Words escape her mouth about her mother. They are directed towards the Time God. I don't care at all about who this woman was affiliated with. I just don't give a damn.

"What goes around comes around, Aviya. Maybe its Karma for trying to end someones life. A child's life." My words drip with poison and anger, wanting no more than to watch her crimson life force seep into the white snow. In fact, it would bring me much pleasure. "Just because her father did things that are not things to be proud of. Just because he was a shitty king."

Suddenly I cannot stand it here anymore. My ears still slicked back, I look down at Glacia, nodding to her. She nods to me back, and I look to our new lady. "Congratulations on your position, Lady Ophelia. I wish you the best." I smile at her, a genuine smile, before nodding to the god before us all. "Good day to you, Sparky." I look at Ulrik and nod at him. "Glacia and I are available should you need more help finding them." Then we leave. We are going to the cave. I keep my daughter close, not trusting that the little bitch might try again. But I don't look back, and frankly I just don't even care anymore.

"Speech"
Tag;; @[]
Words;; 629 words
Notes;; I hope this doesn't offend anyone. Also, I hope the Time god doesn't mind being called Sparky by a mortal. She's kind of pissy atm, because she doesn't take attempts at assassination on her daughter lightly. But to Aviya's player, not against you in anyway. Sia's also just a bitch, who found a spot to hit and went for it. <3

Credits: Whit's tables were an inspiration | Coding by Schwartze | Image
[Image: 538c1505470d5]
Please tag Sialia in all posts! Thanks!

Deimos the Reaper Posts: 527
Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB
Heather
#24
The layers of his insignificance rolled from the Time God’s tongue, and the Lord listened as he was chastised, as he was reprimanded, as he was scolded for having an opposing opinion: fought the urge to spark, to sizzle, to sear and embolden his speech into another barbed discourse. But apparently they weren’t allowed to dispute a deity’s sentiments, weren’t allowed to form thoughts other than pure acceptance, sheep and lemming mentality. Deimos had never been one to follow the flock, never been one to bow his head and accept everything before him: he’d challenged since the moment he was born, played devil’s advocate and cretin’s sword, craved defiance and coveted sedition. His fight seemed extinguished, however, because no matter what he stated, no matter what D’art, Ulrik, or anyone else thought, the sparking being wasn’t going to alter his decision. Even if he scraped, bit, tore, and rasped against the grain, naught would change – his resistance, his uprising, disappeared and died in the flicker of the god’s words. There was nothing he could do: the decision was final, the outcome pressed and made, the gavel dropped. He was forced to adhere to another’s reign, and the difficulty, the constraint gnawed at his mind, clawed down his spine, because all he yearned to do was fight, and the deity, this colossus of time, of hours, of minutes and measures, told him he couldn’t. The winter King clenched his jaw and grated his teeth, served his gaze without emotion, with empty, void beacons, with indifference and reticence, retreating so far into himself that the God would have to dive deep, deep into the blue fathoms to retrieve any other sentiments. Guarded, reserved, gone, into the bestial framework of years before: resolute, protective, of the nefarious heart, of the wicked deeds, of the barbaric flames he kindled. “We shall see if she meets your expectations.” It was the only acceptance he could muster, and all he desired to do thereafter was cling, linger, back into his comfortable shadows, his desolate, forlorn shoals, his hollowed caverns, hiding away from the world.

What provoked him even more was how some of the drones, some of the patriots, simply forgot, neglected, and overlooked Illynx: gone, tangled into another mission; someone monumental abandoned moments later, favoring the new sovereign with smiles and warm gestures. Would he be the same some day? Tossed aside despite all of his efforts, all of his passion, all of his carnivore predilections for a herd he fought day in and day out for? Were they all so inconsequential? Were they all so insubstantial? Were they all irrelevant place holders, figures and fixtures to be abandoned? Replaced so readily, thrown away so quickly? He glanced at each and every one of his members, some he didn’t recognize, some he knew for seasons and cycles, and wondered the meaning of his place. To protect, to shield, to defy, to cripple, to conquer – or to the unattainable Reaper, the dark scythe, the unapproachable behemoth immersed in antiquity, in nonchalance, statue depravity carved from Lucifer’s rubble and ruin.

More bickering commenced, more queries flew, more questions traveled: murders and mayhem, monsters and ogres (for once, he presumed, not incited by them), and he processed all of it, calculated, examined, deliberated, nodding towards Aviya, a daughter in need of vengeance, turning towards Zikar-Sin, a Haruspex requiring more information, and even Ophelia, a foreign Queen he had to adhere to. She talked and she talked and he just wanted to leave (her credentials were long but consistency not), until she inquired about their herd, its protection, and he, mighty, domineering, and overwhelming, felt the slightest bit of comfort in taking the task of vigilance and violence. “When investigating the mystery, they should travel in groups, ensure all whereabouts are known.” None of them should’ve slipped through cracks, disappear into more atrocities, more casualties. A mere moment later, he inclined towards Ulrik, the resident artiste. “Perhaps we could employ our Weaver for specific weaponry or shielding artifacts.” Was it possible to craft something (beyond fabric armor – the notion was ludicrous) to salvage, secure, and safeguard their detective groups?


DEIMOS
delivered from the blast
last from a line of lasts
and now the kingdom comes crashing down undone
background pattern by webtreatsetc.deviantart.com
image credits

Ulrik the Engineer Posts: 235
Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1 hh :: 11 HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Kirchoff :: Common Hellhound :: Superspeed Tamme
#25
Ulrik the Engineer


Ulrik was displeased as his issues regarding Ophelia had been summarily dismissed. She was a turncoat. How would she make a good lead if she abandoned every project? Certainly she was capable. Her laundry list of attributes was impressive, but it also showed a pattern of coming and going. While he understood the transient life, at his core, the Engineer was incredibly and beautifully loyal. When he loved, he loved deeply - though the expression of that love showed in the strangest of ways.

Still, he listened when she spoke, honestly surprised that she seemed to care about his son. Was this a ploy? Why would Rikyn leave with Illynx like that? Ulrik frowned, black, velvet lips curling downward with his confusion. He did not want to like this Ophelia, this newcomer who stepped into Illynx's place and fit so poorly. He did not want to appreciate her offer to find his son, but he was touched, nonetheless.

Her words inciting similar ones from others. This mare and her child seemed concerned, and he could not even remember having seen them before. He nodded once, to them, feeling as if he was in a dream. Torleik touched his shoulder before leaving, finally accepting his family as his own - as strange and awkward as it was with Illynx. Would she ever come back? Would he ever see his son again?

Deimos spoke next, and he was grateful for the distraction. Bronze eyes met the familiar blue ones. He looked between Ophelia and Deimos, thinking and nodding again. "I could make each team a symbol that they could leave behind in case of distress?" he offered. "Cloaks? Or... I could make sirens with my own powers, if any are willing to help me mine for the metal."



Credits: Whit's tables were an inspiration | Image by Nikkayla

(Please tag me in every post)
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#26
Ophelia the Forsaken
I'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm
they used to shout my name, now they whisper it


Ophelia listened carefully, concerned that this girl had lost someone close to her too. She understood the pain of loss and looked to the God of Spark as well for answers. Somewhere in the discussion, she watched as Torleik left her side. The stinging pain of abandonment hit her square in the chest, inciting anger to mask the bite of the emotion. She forced herself to turn her gaze away, focusing instead on the tasks at hand.

Sialia, obviously upset by this Aviya, spoke sharp words, indicating that her daughter's father was a king. A shitty king. Ophelia's mind reeled at he implications, for this child was not one belonging to Deimos. The only other king she knew of this land was one, and his name was Mauja. A stunning myriad of emotions flew by, and she avoided landing on any particular one. Instead, she nodded when Sialia left, wondering how to remedy such a rift in the herd dynamic.

For now, she chose to focus on what Deimos said, nodding in agreement when he ordered everyone to travel in groups. That was a wise decision, and she looked to Ulrik, the weaver, she supposed, nodding. He seemed caught off guard by something, perhaps even upset. The news that his son was gone must have hit him rather hard. Ophelia thoughtfully weighed these options. "Sirens could be useful since they can be heard from long distances," she replied. "However, your idea to leave indicators behind is also clever."

Ophelia turned to Deimos, trying to prove that she could just one part of a whole. "What do you think?" she asked.

Continuing this trend, she decided that speaking more with Deimos would be a better idea. She had a few questions that only he or Illynx could answer. "What is the situation like with the warriors?" she asked with interest. "And the spies? In order to better defend ourselves or prepare for attack, I would like to set up spars with anyone willing to participate."


Credits: Image by Araxel @ DA




Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.


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Deimos the Reaper Posts: 527
Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB
Heather
#27
Edges shorn and rancor coiled, he stilled amidst the quiet chatter, waited for an opportunity to slither, crawl, whisk away, back into mountains and caverns, driven back into isolation and desolation with the forlorn twist of control and decadence. Rigid, taciturn, and unyielding, tangible monstrosity bound and embroiled, he stared down the length of his fellow inhabitants, piercing, defying, harpooning the platitude, the vestiges, of his niceties, withdrawing, fleeting, closing back into himself. Muted, numbed, he only spoke when spoken to, gestured by the new Lady with queries over the herd, parting his maw to chisel the answers throughout the air, a chamber of seclusion, segmented and partitioned far beyond the reaches of their cheer, their merriment. “That is fine.” Stiffened, listening to the drums, the ideas of sirens and their wanton calls, indicators, ways to coax the harem back into winters’ hands when danger drew near (and then he’d slaughter the treachery following them, massacre, obliterate, defile, and demand, over and over again, his favored noose, his soulless opus), he hastened to flee – and still, more questions, more inquiries (did she talk more than the GildedBlade?) requiring him to reply: the status of their soldiers, the wake of their impersonators. If there was anything to be proud of, it was the furtive glances and specious unraveling by their spies, whittling away enemies bit-by-bit, item-by-item, information-by-information. The fighters, however, needed to be strengthened – perhaps all of them, by some measures, had to be hardened, built into intensive behemoths, brawny ministrations, to merge and conquer the foul wind brewing across the horizon. “The spies have done well, and the soldiers should be tested more.” He paused, narrowed his stare, remembered, visualized, the bloodthirsty machinations of the battlefield, felt it crow and screech in his veins. “All of us could do with practice. We will prepare the willing.” The Reaper confirmed this with a blunt nod, a sharpened glare, a firm bite on the ghastly chords keening their surroundings; preparations had to be noted, completed, and their empire needed to be galvanized.


DEIMOS
delivered from the blast
last from a line of lasts
and now the kingdom comes crashing down undone
background pattern by webtreatsetc.deviantart.com
image credits


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