the Rift


[OPEN] Walled City. [Welcoming]

Arah Posts: 343
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Wynter :: Royal Griffin :: Draining Clutch Frostie
#1
A R A H


Catch my gaze, I dare you.
[PREINVASION]

They arrive at the northern reach, before the mountains heave towards the sky, a patchwork of snow and stiff dirt dots the land. Here Arah and Wynter set a quick pace, passing over the land, traveling the journey one knew by heart. How many times had she passed that rock? Or moved over this particular slick piece of ground? Their footsteps were hurried, different from the last journey. This time the fae princess wished to return to The Basin as fast as possible, wanting to beat the night that was falling quickly. Beside the land the sun was beginning to set, casting an orange glow on the land, the colours of pink, orange and blue reflected off of the doe's irvoy coat and the bleached feathers of her bonded. Golden orbs roam over the tundra's sparse, bitter grasses and shrubs as she carefully navigated the many loose rocks that sought to trip up the inexperienced. As usual she turned to the one she was leading with a hard expression, seriousness coating her in it's grasp. The danger of this land was ever present; "watch for any crumbling boulders. It can be dangerous around here." Walking past the beautiful network of caves, they lay closer to the ocean’s edge before the tundra gave way to a network of glaciers and their frosty archways, Arah thought back to each soul she had lead through her, adding many to The Basin's army. One series of these frozen caves is dimpled inside and takes a bluish tint and with the sun setting behind, they are shining, sending beads of sapphire light dazzling all the surrounding area.

Finally they come upon the path to her home, she pauses at the top. It is a narrow entrance from the Frostbreath Steppe, it descends between a range of mountains which are preserved with white snow. With Wynter wondering beside her, Arah begins to follow the path down into The Basin. The path is almost impossible to be found, only those who had been shown the way stand a chance of visiting The Basin. The doe is slow, showing the other mare where to place her feet, which parts of the path she should avoid. Arriving into the hidden valley Arah looks upon the two massive, horse-like machines rather fondly. "These are our sentinels created by Ulrik, do not fear them." Looking past the massive metal beasts, Arah guides her companion through them. "They keep out imposters and help in defending our home." As usual she's speaking about the wonders and beauty of her home, things each newcomer should know. "We have a blessed lake that never freezes, which at night is astoundingly beautiful. It reflects the sky, which at night is often filled with colorful aurora borealis." The doe smiled as she observed her home, "here the tundra grasses grow thick and lush and the snow melts to reveal the warm earth beneath." Arah stopes at the base of her home, waiting for a leader to welcome their new comer into the herd. "We have a large, natural hot spring steams from under a rocky shelf." Beside her Wynter wondered off into the lands, looking for somewhere comfortable to curl up. "Lastly there is a strange, glass mirror it offers no reflection when gazed upon." /font> With that she glanced back to the newcomer and smiled. "Welcome to Aurora Basin."

[Welcoming thread for @[Renegade] + Leads.]
And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.

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

Renegade Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#2

The hot air that escaped from her lungs had turned into fog as they walked deeper into the land that seemed to be blanketed in frost. The air was sharp and cold. The beautiful land had astonished Renegade. In the forest that she grew up in there were cold days but never such frost. She rested her sapphire eyes on the splendor that surrounded her. The doe who was leading her almost seemed to blend in with ice and snow with the pearl like coat she had. By the way that Arah was showing Renegade where to step, the horned mare knew that there was magnificence in this land but deeper within there’d be danger.

She mimicked the weary paces that the ivory mare took. Her golden chain bounced off her back with each step, the small jingles seemed to echo in the silence. She carefully listened to Arah’s words, making sure not to miss anything. Renegade gaped at the massive machines, this was something she had not seen before. She nodded her head at the instructions given.

Joy strung in her eyes at the mention of the aurora borealis, she begin to hope that the colors would weave through the dark skies that night. “That sounds beautiful”, the mare chimed trying her best to mask her light accent. The place Arah continued to describe was not something the mare was expecting, the basin was so much more than she thought. She took another quick glance around the scene they were in, taking in the beauty. What a place. An unexpected smile tugged at Ren’s lips, she was enlightened to have brought to a new home by such a kind mare. She knew the future she had here would be a pleasant one.

WC: 292
Tag: @[Arah]


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
#3
Void of anything but malice or hate, the rancorous, seething multitude of his ruminations calculated and conspired amongst the summits and glacial hilltops, poised against the clouds, the snow, the sky, as a demonic, intimidating figure. A constant, beckoning source of menace, of contempt, of searing, smoldering havoc, he varnished the world with the finest Lucifer and Mephistophelean brushstrokes, yearned to paint empires in ichor, in chaos, in anarchy, blessing the invocations of a dark, furtive acrimony. He shifted amongst the rubble and stones, glancing across the malicious coils of his valley, the promises of gallows, the swift, churning creed of sedition, pausing in his infernal indiscretions at the scent of a newcomer and the familiar presence of Arah, beckoning across the horizon, curling and pooling amidst the clarity of Tallsun’s last siege. The Reaper, hardly the social butterfly, contemplated avoiding the task altogether – preferring to rummage through his earth, his realm, with a fervent, vehement stride, striking down enemies, intruders, and fools. Instead, the monster, the behemoth, the beast, adhered to his title, all without a sigh or a chance in his nonchalant features, repeating the interloping cycle of meeting and greeting. Part of it was an entangled bout of curiosity, to see what the Impersonator had brought from the corridors of the Threshold: were they strong, formidable, bestial, or virtuous, puerile, someone needing to be molded into the craft of licentiousness? Steps followed and flicked, flint and brimstone, across the venue; a maneuvering fortress of nefarious, cretin exploits. He may not have been the worst creature to meet within the Basin, because there were even some less amiable cretins lurking along their dungeons, their caverns, their walls, but he wasn’t a gentle, affable welcome wagon. Instead, he was a scrutinizing force, a Machiavellian design, a figure entrusted and endowed with too many devilish oeuvres and sinister, recherché ploys, configuring avenues and ranks, yearning for war and tasting the fine relish of victory, wanton for the opportunity to shove his blade into another’s throat, chest, removing their hearts, their breaths, touching finality and demise and quietus with a plunging knife.

Upon his arrival, the Lord bestowed Arah with a noteworthy bow to his chest, she’d exceeded her efforts through Thresholding and such was to be commended, and considered her one of his few companions. Thereafter, Deimos’ gaze narrowed, speculating, studying, and examining the newcomer with a polished, wicked eye: deep, furnished chestnut, gilded chains, and horns - all garnished with a smile. Probably not a newfound soldier (though he could be mistaken, sometimes thorns were nestled and nettled deep within flowers, serpent airs and wiles clinging to the forefront when necessary), but she could be useful for other purposes. He inclined his skull towards her in a short, gruff nod, then clung to the similar notes of rough speech he’d embodied time and time before. “Welcome to the Basin.” He paused, still reticent, still nonchalant, a stoic monster drenched and soused in upheaval, in sedition and insurrection, but hardly a master of eloquence (all of his elegance, all of his finesse, was reserved for battle, ripping and tearing, clawing and rasping and killing). “I am Deimos, the Lord. Who are you?”


Arah Posts: 343
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Wynter :: Royal Griffin :: Draining Clutch Frostie
#4
A R A H


Catch my gaze, I dare you.
Once again she had brought a creature forth into the bitter cold that made Aurora Basin. Someone that would be studied, questioned and judged. As usual she hoped Deimos would come to meet the fresh recruit, she did not know much of their new lady. Ophelia had come to them and not long after joining them she'd been named lead. It would take time for the silver doe to trust her as a leader or perhaps Ophelia would leave them like the rest of the Ladies that had ruled over Aurora Basin. Psyche and Illynx...where where they and why had they all decided to leave their position as lead? Silently her eyes became trained on a figure approaching them, a smile remains painted her lips. As she had hoped The Reaper approached them, probably ready to reap her offering. "Watch your step now." A quiet few words of warning as death itself approaches them now.

Returning his bow in full it is as if they have practiced this greeting a hundred times before. The doe would arrive with the recruit, Deimos would show up and bow to her, respectfully she would return the gesture and then step back as Deimos turned towards the offering she had brought. Perhaps in the future she would meet him under different circumstances. As he turned to the new comer and began his questing Arah stood silently and watched. Curious to see how the mare would handle meeting The Reaper. Hopefully this meeting would not take long, Arah wished to find Wynter and return to her darkling musing and emotions. The Basin came first though and thought her life was less than rosy she would always belong to the chilling, frozen kingdom. Over time it had began to freeze her heart. Turning to The Basin, Arah paid only a little attention to the conversation happening beside her, more interested in what may be happening within her home. Much had changed since she first joined the ranks within The Basin, Phantom to Impersonator where she had become stuck but who knew what the future held?

@[Renegade]
And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.

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

Renegade Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#5

Renegade continued to find herself looking off into the areas of the Basin. The snow and ice was laid out on the ground like a carpet. The sun had just about completely left the sky, no trace of any purples or oranges left. The horned mare wearily watched Arah’s steps and mimicked them. It took Renegade a while to recognize the coldness of the Basin, she hoped she would get used to the frosty climate soon.
A dark grey figure seemed to tread out of the shadows once the two mares had halted, he had a lion tail and a large black spiral horn sprouted from the center of his head. Inquisitiveness struck the mare like lighting as he got closer. Renegade’s gaze shifted to the direction of the stallion and examined his features as he approached them, he intently stared at her. She guessed he was someone important to the herd by the way Arah had looked at him. She stood up straight and tried to make a virtuous impression.
Renegade pondered about what he thought of her since she was a newcomer and he’d never seen her before. The dark chestnut mare listened to the two Basiners have a brief talk and then bow to one another. She listened to his words carefully as he spoke, making sure to catch everything. His name was Deimos and was the lord. She pushed her gaze towards the stallion once again. “Hello, my name is Renegade. I was greeted by Arah in what I was told was called the threshold.” she said in a rather neutral tone but yet with a hint of strength.
Renegade decided to give the stallion a light bow as well, along with a soft smile. Her sapphire eyes flicked back to the pearl mare by who stood next to Ren. She wondered what role Arah had played in the herd if Deimos was the lord. The wind had calmed down by now, her ivory hair had stopped intertwining with the golden chain that hung on her neck.

WC: 341
Tag: @[Arah] @[Deimos]


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
#6
Calamitous and irreverent, he stood amidst the aperture, the parlor, of ice and snow, framed and embellished King, slaughtering Lord, commanding death and heinous, devilish crimes: now at the disposal of welcomes and salvation. Instead of harpooning villainous threads, instead of launching into villainous convictions, instead of delving into the quiet, hushed essence of slaughter and annihilation, he merely remained, a piece of stone, of marble, of ice, too deeply entrenched in his study of the newcomer to invoke damnation; brushing and unfurling his machinations, his calculations, his ruminations, into the amiable fray. A slave to curiosity and intrigue, the barbaric opus often found himself pondering and wondering over the granted gifts of others, talents he found himself incapable of possessing (politics was a difficult enough venture, but healing was out of the question), but could utilize to benefit the savage, brutal, sinister catacombs of his seditious band. The unholy rapier, with his mind for battle tactics and his calm, composed noose, was content in studying, in investigating, in cold-blooded plots and schemes, wiles and fixations, to better suit the rime, the ice, the audacious blend of corrupted beasts and persevering guards. This Renegade the Impersonator had managed to find appeared ill-equipped for skirmished and violence (her horns twisted around her ears, incapable of stabbing one’s enemy in the throat, inept at slashing and lacerating and clawing their way through the thick of battle); though perhaps he was mistaken, and beneath the gilded and sienna veneer she held other maneuvers and methods to puncture and destroy her opponents. Her smile was soft, but was the rest of her? Was she mighty? Was she tough? Was she enduring? She had to hold a conviction of brawn, of tenacity, of perseverance, in order to remain within the chasm, the palisade, the empire, of pernicious, vicious strongholds, of perilous splendor, of terrible, horrific legions and fortifications – he surmised Arah wouldn’t have brought her here without some key element, without some noteworthy mettle. But – if she was too virtuous, would they carve their way through her soul and corrupt, condemn her? How delicate, how feeble, how dainty was she? Did her grin hold a thousand secrets, a million armaments? Deimos brooded for a length, pondering over Renegade and if she’d earned her name for defecting, rebelling, and mutinying, or if all her irreverence couldn’t be tied to a mere calling, but to action, to eloquence, to a gift lurking in the depths. His tones launched their fine, sinister oeuvre in the same taut, vivid ways as before, scorching and vicious, deep and piercing, rarely-used and kept under lock and key; speech, unfortunately, was not his expertise. “What are your strengths?”

@[Arah] @[Renegade]

Renegade Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#7

Renegade locked her gaze with Deimos, making sure she wouldn’t falter as she spoke or lose the strength in her voice. Her vivid eyes seemed to be visible in the dark still. She prevented herself from letting her thoughts wander off. The eerie stallion spoke once again, his voice was deep and his questions were short. The word 'strengths' ran through her head over and over again.
She took his query into thought, Renegade was a skilled mare and hoped she could make of use in the Basin. She guessed that the Basin and other herds did not always get along so she began to think of ways to use skills she had to benefit her new home. Though her ram horns weren’t like the others that could be used to cause bleeding and injuries, her horns were strong. She never used them for heavy harm but she knew that they were capable to break bones and probably even more. She’d only used this strength when she is infuriated, which is easy to do.
The mare had a short temper which often causes her to snap back. So she knew she was capable of fighting others but she didn’t want to think of it as one of her major strengths. After a bit of thought she spoke. “In my older herd I was a healer, I do not have the greatest experience however since not many were usually injured. I hopefully can learn more here.” she spoke softly. “Though I have the power to heal and help those who suffer, if they reside of my dark side I also have the knowledge to cause greater pain.” The words had a tint of harshness to them. Renegade didn’t know where those words came from but they managed to escape her mouth. Her sapphire eyes danced around. She felt a bit apprehensive but made sure to keep a nonchalant face.
WC: 318
Tag: @[Arah] @[Deimos]



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
#8
Healing – he should have guessed. Where others plucked the gallows of vehemence, violence, and brutality, some took to mending, assuaging, and soothing; such rites and paragons would never be realms he’d adhere to, but they were necessary factions. In their increasing dominance, in their constant state of supremacy, barbarity, and mercilessness, restoring and revitalizing was necessary. After battle, after invasion, after disaster, as they limped and dragged and stumbled across the earth, the Menders found them, trickled and dabbled over the senses, over the lacerations, over the grating shards, renewing soldiers for one more day in the field. How many times had he required their aid? How many instances and junctures had led him towards time’s benefitting wiles, the ghostly hands of sweeping hours away? So he made no sign, no growl, no disapproval, no displeasure at the thought of another doctor joining their ranks, searching for herbs, scouring the wilds, the tundra, the eaves, for cures and poisons. He’d seen their capabilities, witnessed their faculties, watched their talents, either by fusing, sewing, weaving his sinew back together, or by the dreaded venom stored in their grasp, little, lithe serpents gathered beneath blossoms and flowers. No matter how whimsical their smiles, each and every individual within the Basin was mighty, skilled, and strong; even the hidden insolent, even the silken paragons. They were to be a respected class, like the scholars and their wisdom, like the soldiers and their prowess, like the spies and their slinking information. The rapier depravity of his speech loosened more words into the fray, stringing them alone in quiet, unearthly acceptance, another sword, another rebel, another beast added to their numbers. “We welcome more healers.” He nodded his skull, the hallowed oeuvre of death, provided her with the information, the names, the calls she should grasp and clench in order to delve deeper into her craft. “Consult with our Time Menders, Lena or d'Artagnan, to hone your skills.”


Renegade Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#9

The mare nodded her head, capturing the words he spoke. His voice left a shiver down her spine. She wondered what other ranks there were in the Basin that she possibly could’ve taken up. The mare knew she was probably a bore to him but didn’t know how to spice up the small conversation. She made sure to remember the names in case she ever needed assistance. Her gaze quickly moved back to Arah, wondering if she would take Renegade any other places. Would the sky be weaved with different colors like the pearl mare had mentioned? This thought whirled around Renegade’s head but then swiftly brought her attention back to Deimos. The mare nodded her head once more before speaking, “Interesting, I’ll look into seeking help from the Time Menders.” Her azure eyes scanned the dark lord’s face, trying to find hints as to what he might’ve been feeling. The icy tundra seemed to glow in the darkness they stood in but the lord almost seemed hidden in the shadows. The mares muscle began to ache from standing in the same position for a bit too long. She sighed a puff of frost. She looked over at the griffin who stood near Arah. She had piercing blue eyes and gold dipped feathers. Did everyone have companions around here? Renegade slightly hoped she would get a companion to fill in the void in her heart created by her brother. The thought of her brother dimmed the mare’s innocent smile. But anger grew within her like a fire when she remembered what he had really done. Now her moods had been threw all over the place.
WC: 275
Tag: @[Arah] @[Deimos]




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