| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 16 |
| Whit |
It was not the first time the brothers made the trek across the Meadow to the World's Edge. They walked, with the Foothills warriors, lingering at the back of the group, soon drifting off in their own direction to stand by the Qian's gathered. Such was their synchrony, it seemed only a single set of hoofbeats pounded into the earth beneath them, only a single breath was stolen and exhaled, a single heartbeat. And yet, two entities strode toward the lands of the unicorns, two entities moved to stand by their family, prepared to fight for all that they believed in. They looked at their sister, in all her gleaming glory, and allowed pride to swell in their breasts. They looked at their allies, and they looked at their enemies, through the eyes of predators.
Enough time had passed that those of the Edge were now arriving, trying to shift their ranks, trying to stir them up, unsettle their resolve. It would not work. Knights of shadow and fire stood unmoved, even as the bronze unicorn attempted to shift the direction of the fight elsewhere, joined by the pale King of the lands. They exposed their sides to the faces of the masses; they were fools for thinking the invaders would shift their attack. They were outnumbered, but still clung to some belief that they might survive this war. Survive perhaps, but still keep a hold of their herdland? Perhaps not.
Shadow and flame stood several lengths apart, to the rear of the group. They would dance and dodge their way through to the frontline when the need arose. Muscles twitched, anticipation caused a shiver to vibrate down the brothers spines simultaneously. The need was near.
[288]
| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.2 :: 10 |
| Adoptable |
 The fact that Seiren had been ousted - not that it had been announced, but it was obvious since Fatbelly wasn't around anymore - had pleased Alan, but on some deeper, more emotional level, it had also saddened her. So much had gone wrong when it came to her and d'Artagnan... Things that could've been great lay shattered, a deep hatred emanating from the ghastly mare and spilling out across Alan too. And now, the Throat had taken her long-time friend, the trail cold, but there was yet nothing they could do to reclaim him. Bide their time and wait.
Fuck that shi- oh hell.
Her jaw dropped to somewhere below her black knees as a fucking dragon and a fucking dragonhorse and a smaller fucking dragon and a shitload of horses (a lot of them with fucking wings, smelling of the fucking desert where the fucking doctor was held). Her thoughts, minimal as they had been, came to a standstill and then she just frowned at them. Soon, it turned into a scowl, once the surprise wore off.
Mauja had, in a sense, warned them.
But crap, the day had come soon, and she was lucky she'd woken up about half an hour ago after a rest, and now had walked herself warm looking for funny things to do. Could this be classified as funny? Potentially.
Mauja's voice rang out, clear despite the clamor of bodies and pre-war. The sun was sinking in the west, and Alan snorted. The trees would obscure it soon enough, preventing it from blinding them. "Well look at that!" she barked, strutting up and down the enemy line (at a safe distance, of course). d'Artagnan wasn't here to spit out funny racist comments, and she prepared to shoulder the burden, although she doubted she'd be as good at it as he was. "A bunch of cravens!"
Really, Alan. There was no founding for that comment.
Does she care? No, but she regrets that she could do no better. Leonine tail swished angrily behind her, but she kept pacing back and forth. Surely Mauja had some grand master plan. If she could draw some to her with her loud, obnoxious mouth, perhaps it'd work in their favor... Though, she winced, just to have it done with. Wincing when fighting was impractical, and this was bound to hurt.
A lot.
[ 386 ]
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Oh hell, what was this?!
As the call came the bull quickly lifted his heavy crown. Sulfur eyes narrowed as the words, the threat, sank in. Who the hell…? The black brute’s nostrils widened with anger, the cut in the right one parted and his red mucus membrane showed beneath. With his tarnished muzzle wrinkled he started trotting towards the smell of his own herd. His raven black mane bounced on his thick neck and his muscular legs bore his heavy body with perfect, practiced balance.
In the afternoon sun, between the trees he saw them. The Enemy. They were led by a huge dragon and Lucius guessed that it was only a horse who possessed shape shifting magic. But by her side was a stallion who appeared to be a dragon-horse hybrid. Abomination! How sickening to think that an equine must have mated with its filthy pet. Simply disgusting. The bull trotted on and now he saw his alabaster leader ahead. His heart went out to the frosted stallion, what hardship this man was forced to endure. But he didn’t know Mauja well enough to offer him an ear to blow off some steam into. If we’re still alive tomorrow I promise to take bigger part in this herd. the black brute thought.
He arrived almost at the same time as Alan and the sight of the mare made him snort. She was strutting around sounding like a teasing foal. Give it a rest. he thought and bit back a comment about where she should really be strutting her stuff. Mares had no place on the battlefield, they were mere distractions and added to the pressure of the stallions. They should tend to the young and be willing for the stallions. Lucius sighed, even if he strongly believed that he was smart enough to see that without a few mares to their army they had no chance, they were severely outnumbered.
The bull slipped, as much as a 1 ton stallion can slip, past Mauja, and took his place beside his twin. "Brother." His gruff voice greeted Lloyd. He didn’t give his brother the slightest look, he just stared forwards, preparing for what was to come. He knew why they’d come now, Frostfall was getting closer and food would become scarce… The Throat and Foothills are surely helping them only because they don’t want any fucking parasites eating all their food.
[Words: 400]
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Kri the Resolute Posts: 243
| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.3hh :: 10 Buff: NUMB |
| Boom Boom! |
K R I the R E S O L U T E
it's not the petty imperfections that define us, but the way we hold our hearts.
I sore above the World's Edge with a sorrow clinging to my heart. The face of Onni, contorted into some painful confusion as I said goodbye to march to war, plays on repeat in my head. Her soft spoken voice telling me that I had no reason to fight for a land that was not ours, and that I could well support Mirage in other ways, but I wouldn't. There was no way that I could simply stay back home in the Throat and watch my comrades who fought so bravely for the soil I called my own. I owed them this; I needed to do this. Damn it, I would lay my life down to protect my word.
Wind crashes in from behind me as I am too distracted to keep it under my control. Battle always had a way of eating my attention, eating my ability to hold onto the strings of the wind that I could normally do so naturally. The turmoil within my gut made my abilities lurch, made my flight pattern awkward. I still could never be knocked from the sky, but that was little comfort now as I fell into the air space where my friends and enemies spilled out below, fierce faces everywhere I looked.
" Warriors of the Throat," I boom down to them with my voice like stone, " fight bravely for our beloved friends, and shelter each other from the wave of violence that awaits us now. Each individual here is your kin, guard them carefully, as carefully as you would yourselves." Gently, I soar downward, hovering above the backs of those I recognized. My eyes fall warmly on Mirage, startlingly a dragon, and Azzuen, before they turn cold as they face the oncoming defenders, Mauja and his horned kin.
It did not take me long to see the Ice King, and my eyes show a slight sorrow as I call out to him across the line. " Mauja, I could not keep my word to you," my voice slightly wavering in comparison to the rock hard intensity I would usually present. " For that I expect you to fight harder." A misplaced smirk follows my words, even as I watch the King with amusement not fit for war. I was never one to act appropriately, I suppose.
[ WC: 394 ]
Venomxbaby, EveLivesey, humblebeez and ali00p
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Ultimate horror often paralyses
memory in a merciful way
- H.P. Lovecraft
Well well what do you know, perhaps there could be some fun to find in this place after all. I didn't share the surprise that seemed to envelop the long-time herd members as an army suddenly appeared on the border. To be honest, I likely wouldn't have noticed it before the battle had started if it weren't for the sudden burst of activity that pulled the warriors towards the edge of the land. I had spent so little time here that the scent of the herd had barely managed to stick to my body and the unicorns that surrounded me were naught but strangers. The world I had come to was unfamiliar still, but one thing would never change; unicorns were meant to rule and anyone that threatened that fact was going to have to face me. As I followed the clamoring mass towards what would become the battlefront, my eyes caught sight of a few figures on both sides of the lines that kindled my interest. Huh, so there were familiar faces here; I hadn't been expecting that. After the flight from Isilme I'd had thought that the bonds to family and allies had been severed for good, but perhaps that was not entirely the case.
Long, white marked legs carried me at a leisurely pace to the very front of the army, critically scrutinizing those that would become my allies with the eyes of a commander. Old habits died hard, and when faced against this massive front of barren tainted and winged rats it was hard to remember that in this place I had still not earned the right to give orders. I was nothing but a common mare who happened to have a bit of experience in warfare - or that was how the soldiers would view me, no doubt. I raised a brow when a flash of copper and black caught my eye, and with a sharp nip at his shoulder and a polite nod to Mauja I shoved myself in beside Ulrik.
"I see you survived the shades" I greeted gruffly as pallid eyes trailed over the front lines. We were clearly outnumbered, but it didn't deter me from wanting to face the filthy birdbrains and their allies - or was it the other way around? I couldn't care less. "We should talk once this is over." I wanted to know what had happened to the other members of the Sect during the escape, wanted to hear about the status of the group within this herd; but it would have to wait until the fun was over. Feathers of fallen pegasi twisted and spun in the crimson threads of mane and tail as the wind caught hold of them; I couldn't wait to get a chance to add a few more to my collection.
A flash of red on black made my maw twist into a wry grin, memories of fire and cowardly deceit reflecting as I spotted Paladin among the attackers. I couldn't help it. A deep laughter spilled from the charred lips, and with sweet venom in the voice I called out to him.
"I knew you were stupid, Paladin, but now I see that the little sense you had has been bashed out of you. Since when have you stooped so low as to turn on your own kin, idiot brother?" He had always been too soft, ever since we were young, but the creature he had turned into now was one I was loath to even acknowledge as family. A danger to our cause, blood-traitor and vermin-lover was what had become of the brother I once had respected and striven to surpass. Blood-thirst made my throat clench, and as an itch to kill something rose and forced the legs sooted by smoke and ash from countless battlefields to shift restlessly. Hopefully the fates would be kind enough to let me find him on the battlefield.
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| Outcast |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: 8 Buff: NOVICE |
| imi |
Descaro emerged through the healing trees and into what seemed to be a pending battlefield. Many had gathered and Descaro did his best to try remember each of their names from the previous herd gathering. The numbers of their adversary surprised him, a sickening feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach as his eyes roved over their own numbers. Too low. This also surprised him, the actual number of their herd was more than enough to overrun this rabble but it seemed not all had shown themselves. He frowned but moved over to where Alan was, preparing himself mentally for the impending fight. Judging by the words said already, negotiations seemed to be far from everyone's mind. Still, how were they expected to co-exist with this Qian? They each had a different opinion on what was right and wrong, it would be silly to even try it.
There was another matter that was worrying. The disappearance of d'Artagnan, their only healer and his friend. Rumour had it that the General Azzuen had stolen him and taken him back to the Dragon Throat. The mere thought set his teeth on edge and boiled his blood. The Conscript shifting his weight, impatiently waiting for a signal from Mauja. The steed hated this part of battle, the calm and exchange of words before the blood bath.
A low drumming noise sounded in his ears, a heartbeat speeding up at the excitement.
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Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
| Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5 |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire
Heather |
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L E N A
look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it
Gone were the delightful days, the whims and hymns of jovial times sullied, vacant, and listless, against the heavy, suffocating drums of war. No longer could she traverse in her simple, transient reverie, where a smile healed old wounds and words soothed aching barbs – an invasion was not recoiled by the beam of a grin of the smart candor of a wise nymph. In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure how to react. With fear, flush against her veins, throbbing in her heart, boiling and fuming until she was entirely consumed with an old ailment? With hope, a sinuous, enlightened thread woven through her mind, that everything would settle, be just, be right? Or with valor, humming a triumphant tune that lilted in her chest until she was truly divine, truly ethereal, truly an entity that contained power, perseverance, spirit and audacity? Of the three, she chose the last, despite what segments of the former fluttered within her tender mind, within the once fanciful essences.
She carried herself with the bravado and pluck of her brethren, strong, enduring, crown high, and sword bared, world clashing and unraveling from her warm eyes. She stole glances at the many gathered, so many recognized, so many unknown, and the intruders themselves, all hues and species, tarnished, gilded, an overwhelming sight of acrimony and violence, eager to shed blood for their chosen one. She can hear the words of distaste, the raw, enamoring phrases of clipped, blunt, arduous souls that crisscross over material lands and deities, that act as they think just, all misaligned partisans. But it’s the meshing of letters and frames that Kri, the Throat leader Lena remembered and recalled from retrieving her King’s daughter, that inspired a slight irking, a vexation, a proud echo of words crossing over her lips before she can cease their motions. Soft, sweet, but entirely riddled with the nuance of specious, piercing, sharpness. Perhaps the threat of war even invoked the guileful, sly sentiments of a gentle creature. "It seems your words don't bear much weight."
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| Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB |
| Heather |
In the brewing silence, he carved wolfish rapture, the seething, scorching blend of warmth and acrimony casting behemoth shades along the Edge’s heart, sinking and intertwining amongst his murky depths, his calamitous fixture, his rogue, blackguard potency. He hated and loathed, condemned and damned, and he would yearn to do the same to them, these gnarled intruders, these fellow heathens, these constant surge of creatures that demanded, claimed, and commanded for things that were not their own – petulance and avarice intertwined into a measure of arrogance that he could appreciate later. For now, all he wanted were their deranged hearts nailed, pierced, punctured, lacerated to the junctures of their hallowed halls, bleeding and lifeless, blackened and calloused, morose and damned to the silly, simpering wiles of their foolish grandeur. Would Mauja allow him to stroke the lethal annihilations of his blood now, to stoke the fires of his necromancy, to ignite and unfurl across the dominion until their enemies wilted, withered, devoured and consumed by the earth’s darkened scion? Would he allotted this opportunity, proffered this grand gesture, to doom and consign an oblivion upon their eyes? The savage walked within his herd’s skeleton and said nothing – his imminent silence, his arduous immorality, his perilous, portending enchantments were enough to declare the status of his allegiance, the intangible glow of his prowess and puissance. His argent gaze settled on the realm of the intruders, vast numbers collected, none recognized, none cared about, nonchalant, intangible, impenetrable, staring at the masses, awaiting the moment to strike. No words, no snorts, just the still before the storm, the statuesque, marbled vessel of death’s fatal caress.
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Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
| Deceased |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE |
| RayoDeSoleil |
09-19-2012, 12:33 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-19-2012, 12:38 AM by Psyche.)
It seemed that much had changed in her absence. At one time, the Plague might have been the group deranged enough to attempt such an arrogant act as this invasion; but now, the Qian, a group with such low morals, with such disgusting goals, was the one to start a war. It was an abomination that such a ragtag group of inferiority could even get so close to their borders - or, rather, the Edge's borders. These were not her lands anymore, not the place she called home. And so it was not her duty to defend them. And yet, here she was.
The ebony femme had wandered into these lands in the wee hours of the morning, ready to face Mauja and Sno at last, ready to assume her place in the Edge herd, ready to take over the Plague and continue on her path to rid the world of the filth such as the Qian. The last thing she'd expected was to run into Mauja's newest creation, an arrogant little prince named Tamlin. And now this. A war, right on their doorstep. What excellent timing the universe had.
Psyche couldn't have missed the battle cry if she'd tried, and as she trotted briskly towards the border, she couldn't help but feel the stirrings of adrenaline in her system. Had it been only a few days since her run-in with that clumsy tobiano in the Deep Forest? And she didn't even get the chance to kill that wretch. Her blood sang for battle, for cleansing the land of the plain and the winged. Amber eyes glowed as she cleared the treeline, rapidly observing and assessing the scene before her.
A dragon. Seriously? Surely that had to be some idiot equine or bumbling pegasi with shape-shifting magic. It appeared to be the leader, in any case, and the source of the ultimatum that had rang through her lands. For they were her lands, in this moment, hers to fight for. And the Qian were hers to fight against. How dare they come here in arms, how dare they even think to challenge the unicorn rule of the Edge? Psyche quickly memorized the faces of her new allies - far too few, but at least they were there. Surely there was more to the herd than this? What had happened in her absence?
In spite of all she did not know, the black vixen proudly made her way through those gathered on the Edge's side of the border, not stopping until she had arrived at Mauja's side. Giselle was on his other side, and Psyche's eyes narrowed with hatred. But that would be a battle for another time. But silence did not suit her, and she spoke, sarcasm dripping from her words. "Well, you seem to have done quite well in my absence, Mauja - quite the mess you have here." A scan of their opponents revealed that Paladin stood with the enemy - but why was she surprised? A sneer crossed her maw, but she chose to hold her tongue. After all, what was there to say? Giselle had already beat her to the punch; Psyche would aim to beat her to Paladin in the coming bloodbath.
[W/C: 536]
Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think. | Background - Burtn.deviantart.com
Horse - shi-stock.deviantart.com
Teeth - Minotaur-Queen.deviantart.com
Feathers - RaduLuchian.com
Photomanipulation - RayoDeSoleil
Coding - RayoDeSoleil |
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| Hidden Falls Curiosus II |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.2 hh :: 15 Buff: NOVICE |
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Dezba :: Black Jaguar :: Stormcall
Ina |
| |
The black mare stared at the huge army. Where the hell did everyone come from? Dell had only been at the Edge for a while - not long at all - and now she had to fight. She hadn't fought since she came to Helovia. Her blue gaze swept over the army of winged equines, unicorns and regular equines. Plus all the companions consisting of dragons and other animals.
Fuck.
Delinne drifted closer to Faelene, her herd mate, and the Ice King. She nodded slightly and focused her eyes on Mauja. He looked pissed, which was quite understandable since the whole freaking Helovia were against them. But the unicorns of the Edge were strong - she hoped.
Two blue orbs observed their own army, and she got satisfied enough by the amount so far. They were many, but not many enough to get out of this invasion without loss. A sigh was heard from the Friesian, and she turned her eyes to Faelene.
"Faelene, I'm a bit worried. I surely do hope that all of us get out of this alive - or at least most of us." The words was heavy to speak, and even though she looked calm the tornado of anger and worry inside of her would soon burst out into action.
Dell had to fight for her life, like many times before, only this time she maybe would not survive.
She lowered her head for a moment, and then raised it high in determination. If she died, she would do it with honor for fighting for a family that she could be proud of for once.
She turned her head to the King, and waited for an order to follow. She was a warrior here on this battlefield, not just some Phantasm. She was expected to fight and tear the enemies bodies to pieces, which was no problem thanks to her sharp horn in her black forehead.
'Delinne, we can do this. You've fought before, you've even killed before. This is no different. This is your FAMILY, your herd-mates. Let's do this.' Dell tried to peptalk herself in her head, giving her a reason to do this.
The mare turned her eyes from Mauja to the army before them, and smiled a malicious smile. This would turn out fine.
Word count: 383
OCC: -
Walk, walk, walk.
"Talk, talk, talk."
'Think, think, think.'
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Arabella cantered through to the battle ground, going as fast as she could without tiring herself out. After she'd heard the voice from the sky she was rather annoyed. She had just found an actual herd and been welcomed, and then they got invaded. Well, she wasn't going to stand by and let this happen to her new home, even though in a previous battle she only narrowly managed to escape with her life, this mare would fight.
Arabella didn't look at the enemy when she first arrived at the scene, just stood at the back and glanced around at some of her own herd. She recognized Alan and...well she only knew one horse there. At the front of the group stood a stallion not unlike herself in pattern, he must be the leader, she thought. Counting Arabella there was 14 of them altogether, and she knew that this couldn't be all of them as a herd this small wouldn't be worth invading. Then the mare dared a look at the enemies.
A dragon. A bloody massive, fire breathing, flying dragon; And in the air circling above it was another. Well, that certainly gives the many other horses in the Qian a bit of an advantage.
| World's Edge Moon Advocate |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.2 :: 15 Buff: NOVICE |
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Kali :: Common Griffin :: Draining Clutch
Charks |
![[Image: Rishheader.jpg]](http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g240/xaiatora/other/Rishheader.jpg)
She did not appreciate the call to war, but she follows it, a swift bolt of moonlight drifting among the mass that is their army, critical mind connecting dots and discussions, alliances and formation. They outnumbered the unicorns eighteen to thirteen, by her count, yet they knew better the formation of this land. Cautious and detached, Rishima hovered behind their lines, watching the formation of the opposing force, and speaking silently to Kali, who circled high above the battlefield. Kali was eager for this, her first fight, far more eager than her companion. The moonbeam had attempted to force her young gryphon to stay home, to no avail. Instead she sent Kali ahead as a scout, sorting through the images projected back to her and trying to make sense of their lines. The entire thing did not look good. Both sides are rabble, she remarked silently to Kali, who screeched loudly in response, her avian call echoing over the opposing sides. She sent me a picture of a familiar unicorn- Paladin, she realized, the new lead of the Foothills. He was directing his warriors, and she snorted in satisfaction, even though they represented a small percentage of their ranks. At least there is some amount of order here. Kali sent back an idea of the pegasi swooping down upon the enemies like hawks while the ground-bound chased them; Rishima smiled at her notions.
With an army so large and so scattered, we could at least have found a general. She watches them through dark eyes, and sighs. There needs to be some tactics here.
"Mirage!" she calls to her dragon sister, dark legs propelling her closer to the shadow's side. "You and Vikram must guard the middle, of our line, but keep apart; you are two of our strongest assets. Draw their attention to you." She nods at Vikram, but there is a dark authority in her voice, a sharp intention and lack of forgiveness. She seeks her brothers next, finding their dark forms at the rear of their ranks. she slides up beside Madyrn, nipping softly at his mane before speaking, serious and sly. "You two better guard our asses," she drawls, gaze fixed on the army ahead. "If they get behind us, I'm going to blame you." There is affection in her voice, warmth coupled with tactical cold. Long legs stretching into a graceful trot, she leaves her fiery brother behind, darting through trees and bodies to reach Maskan's side. "Push them to the edge, " she murmurs. "Don't let them drive us out of some semblance of formation. We might outnumber them, but they're bloodthirsty, and angry." Kali cried again, a terrifying scream and a feline yowl, and for the moment the moonbeam waited, still beside her brother. The war would begin soon.
![[Image: Rishifooter.jpg]](http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g240/xaiatora/other/Rishifooter.jpg) |
Lace the Silverthorn Posts: 459
| Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 14 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Fajira :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath
Chan |
It was now or never. He had been given a chance to repay a friend for her kindness, and if he passed up on it now there was no telling when the next chance would come. Perhaps it wouldn't, and he would remain forever weighed down by debts and unfulfilled wishes - not a very pleasant prospect.
As Lace moved up to battlefield and slipped in among the Qian and their allies, he began to question the need for his presence. It appeared that almost all able horses that could stand up, see lightning and hear thunder was gathering along the border, with the only remaining ones being the horned defenders of the Edge. From his place close to the rear of the army it was hard to make out any details, but Fajira passed him a view from above where she circled, keeping herself at a distance from him. It was unnecessary to shout out that the dexterous and fit, but otherwise rather unassuming soldier was linked to one of the dragons - it was an advantage that could potentially save his life at some point.
The stallion frowned slightly at what the White conveyed to him of battle order and defense lines, and mulled it over while listening with half an ear to a mare that was shouting out orders not far from where he stood. She looked familiar and he was sure he should know who she was, but the distractions were plentiful around him and didn't allow for deeper contemplation. It was enough to him that she was taking charge and providing some sort of order to a situation that easily could become chaotic. Despite the fact that their numbers were larger, the army consisted of three separate unities that weren't used to fighting together, if they had even had any training at all recently. Qian or allied with Qian, the reasons for being there were differing greatly - when the unicorns they were facing not only knew and trusted each other intimately but also fought for a common cause, namely to defend their own home.
Nostrils flared in a faint sigh, and as he waited for the order to charge the silver grulla felt oddly separated from the actions around him, as always when he was going into battle. Even as he felt the heartbeat race within the chest and found his feet trampling the ground restlessly in agitation, his mind calmly contemplated his own reasons for being there. The shouts and insults that hailed from one side of blood-thirsty soldiers to the other faded to the background, as did the challenging cries of dragons and other critters that walked with their bonded and companions. Fajira's voice resounded fainly in his mind as she found Akaith and Mirage in the front, greeting them with loud trills and impressing aerial displays that showed off how fit and healthy and ready she was for this; even as she informed the Gold and the WeyrLeader through mental links that he was there to help, it too did little to distract him.
He was calm, composed. A being of flesh and bones with a heart of steel that prepared to bleed and die for something that his friend believed that her family deserved. The stallion thought about all the wars he had fought during the years, and by doing so he came to realize that it wasn't for the sake of the Qian he was there. It wasn't for land, or glory, or for the sake of the grand future that could arise from the outcome of this single battle. Lace would fight, but it would be because Mirage was there.
He didn't believe her cause justified the pain and death and sadness that would come of this, that would ignite the air and spread hatred like a wildfire across the hearts of those present. And he didn't have to believe in it; he just had to believe in her.
A weight lifted almost visibly from the striped shoulders. With a sharp snort the knight returned to reality and was almost overwhelmed by the heat of bodies that surrounded him, the rumble of voices speaking to one another and to enemies across the invisible line that separated them from the others. In the air lay a scent of sweat, fear, anxiety and anticipation so thick that it was almost tangible, and he breathed it all in in big gulps that sent adrenaline coursing through the blood. Golden eyes began to gleam, and as the tension built almost to the point of agony in his muscles a grin began to tug at the sooted maw - one of eagerness, confidence and grim pleasure. Finally the time had come to leave the thinking behind and do what he had been trained to do.
No longer either sinner or saint, the soldier found himself cleared from inner conflict, free to let go of any and all thoughts. He was already tainted, so what harm could there be in looking forward to a chance of testing his limits against others, feel the clash of bodies and sing the songs of battle? Once again he would dance to the drum of war, and may the fates be kind enough to allow him and his bonded the chance to see the lights of another day.
That was really all he wished for.
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♦ Permission granted to use magic and violence on Lace and Fajira
♦ Only tag in new threads, spars and if it's urgent
The Store | The Warden
 He did not wish to believe it, did not want to be faced with strife, rage and bloodshed. But though he was small, Aurelius was no craven, and he would fight alongside his herdmates as was only appropriate. Therefore, as he heard the battle call, his short legs carried him to where the two armies were forming. To the battlefield. Aurelius was surprised, and yet he had somehow expected this day would come; the Edge was not well-liked, Mauja had told him, when he was appointed emissary. However, he had never gotten a chance to exercise his diplomatic skills before the trouble had crawled all the way over their doorstep.
Now he strode in, confidence in his minute frame, mismatched eyes wandering calmly from face to face of those standing opposite. Their usual twinkle was faded, there was a sudden morosity in them that was rare these days. Aurelius had made a home within the Edge, and he had come to hold all the misfit personalities within it close to his heart. Most of all Mauja, who had shown him a kindness that he had rarely experienced within his old life. His eyes turned to his allies, and he ventured up to stand next to the graceful silhouette of his fellow emissary, Lena. With her bubbly personality in spite of a difficult past, she was the one he could probably relate to the most. And he wished to stand by her side and do whatever good he could in this battle.
[251 words] |
Korra thrilling to think, poor child of sin - it was the dead who groaned within
The savage slipped through the shadows, soundlessly prowling closer to the disturbance in her home. The blood within her was reaching a boiling point, so when the gold-tinged barbarian stepped upon the scene, it was with a grimace of rage on her scarred face. There they were, paraded up in front of her, like slabs of meat waiting to be chomped in to. Ivory antlers caught the light briefly in their knife-sharp tips, brown eyes turning black from the anger in her body. Hornless and blood-traitors had swarmed upon her land, invaded her home and had the audacity to stand up and demand to be welcomed with open arms. The wildling snorted and spat, glaring at the draconic wench who seemed to be their leader. That was exactly what she thought of them – she would use their blood to paint the sky red.
No word was spoken when she strode forward, placing herself close to her pale king. She would gladly throw the first stone, and she would die if it meant chasing these disgusting amoebas back under the rock where they had come from. There was no fear in her soulless eyes, just hatred and a terrible, smoldering fire, about to erupt at any given time. This was a battlefield, this was where she prevailed every time, a warrior worthy of her colours. The numbers of the enemy meant nothing to her; nothing mattered anymore, except the taste of blood on her lips. They were many, but were their cause as severe as the ones that were standing here, defending a home? Could so many creatures from such different places be equally devoted to the cause, were they ready to die for something they didn’t believe in? Korra thought not. But now, they would.
[295 words]
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R I C C I A R D O
The Sandman.
The fading sun that was now lowering back into the heavens displayed the typical features of an afternoon. But on this particular Orangemoon day, something was different. Ricciardo felt something wasn't quite right, and even with the breeze sending chills down his sorrel back and through his thin silks, he could sense it. The scent of many rose close to him, the presence of some familiars, but mainly strangers. Animosity was high in the air. Poised, he began to pick his young daggers off the hardening terra firma, and paying little attention to the scenery that was his homeland, he quickened the pace to where he saw many, many creatures. The feeling of hatred struck the atmosphere like the lightning of a storm, and it sent another type of chill through his sturdy mass.
The Sandman stepped forward and faced the oncomers, whose scent he recognised as being foreign to him. They were trespassers, and he was going to serve his King and his herd. This was war. Ricciardo was part of it. With a mighty bellow, the anger flared up within his flame-kissed silhouette and he hissed, "Dare cross our borders? So many numbers, yet so few skill..." All other emotions aside, Ricciardo was now embracing the stance of a warrior. Bring it on...
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Theatricality and deception are powerful agents.
You must become more than just a man
in the mind of your opponent
Cineviam had become familiar with them – his herdmates. The Frostheart with his chilly exterior but any member of the Edge who had been here any length of time will tell you that his heart wasn’t completely frozen solid. Ulrik, the black and bronze stallion was always accompanied by the whirring and clicking of a new metal contraption. d’Artagan and Kou, the caregivers, the nurse never far from her doctor. Except that the Throat had stolen him away from her, from the World’s Edge, the very thought left a bad taste in his mouth. Of Faelene and Ricciardo and all the other newcomers, he would need the opportunity to get to know better.
But Mirage may never give him that chance.
It was the golden dragon he saw first. Since it had been a little while since the last time their home was set on fire, he thought at first that this was another pyrotechnic wonder courtesy of the Sun God. But the golden deity was supposed to be exiled, His powers diminished. Cineviam’s doubts were confirmed once he saw the flock surrounding the great golden beast. These weren't sun worshippers, this was an Invasion.
His entrance into the fray was not glorious.
It was not heralded by trumpets and a chorus of cheers.
In fact, it was almost silent; the only music was the steady drumming of his hooves, step after step. The path seemed to stretch on forever, but it was a familiar mist-draped one, and his anticipation heightened as he drew close to the crowd. There was a vehemence painted in his crimson eyes, a look of intense passion for the story that was about to be written. His pen would only etch a small part of it, though, and Cineviam did not entertain that the word ‘defeat’ would enter his tale. While the possibility of it lingered on the horizon, he did not glance that way, and would not unless his head was forced to turn. It would not be easy, he decided, for somebody to turn his head.
He hoped that it would be the same for his comrades.
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((asked over an hour an a half ago (in the cobx) if I could still get a post up but an admin wasn't on to answer. I whipped this up and still waited but now I have to go so I'm going to post it just in case. Please ignore this if it is too late))
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