the Rift

[OPEN] the season may pass, but the dream doesn't die

d'Artagnan the Nightshade Posts: 364
Aurora Basin General atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17hh :: 12 HP: 68.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Aramis :: Common Hellhound :: Hellfire & Superspeed imi
My hands are tied, my body bruised
she's got me with nothing to win and nothing left to lose

Gatherings. How tedious.

He grumbled and grunted and groaned at the thought of having to conduct one. He dragged his cloven feet across the Basin and away from his beloved cave with all its beautiful ingredients and concoctions. Aramis jogged beside him, not really caring much for the meeting, but eager to meet the faces of those who defended the Aurora Basin. d’Artagnan was much the same, but felt less inclined to show it much. They stalked over the white carpets and the treacherous ice, carefully keeping their balance, a skill honed over the years, but not entirely fall proof. Strapped to the General’s side was a leather bag of stuff (as he had told poor Bellisma once) filled with things needed to fulfil his role as Time Mender. Now, it almost seemed pointless, apart from the handy poison that he kept in case some unfortunate idiot pissed him off too much. Perhaps now he should fill it with knives and other sharp things. Not all together a bad idea, but one to be thought over. He thought of seeking Ulrik, he knew more about crafting and the shade begrudgingly conceded that more of these items would probably help. Even if he personally did prefer the old dirty way of doing it with ones own hooves and horns.

Eventually the duo made it to the point of the mechanical sentinels. Most meetings were conducted towards the middle of the Basin or by the lake, d’Artagnan, however, wanted it near the entrance where he thought was the most important area for soldiers, despite the ostentatious looking statue.

Comfortable, he raised his sooty lips to the air and sent a call across the frozen land to all those who bore the title Soldier or Corporal. At the same time, he sent Aramis forth to find those out of ear reach with the order to bring them into his presence. The Nightshade wanted to know the faces of those brave and bold, of the experienced and the inexperienced, their names and their dreams. What could this army of the north do and what couldn’t it do? From Deimos to Torleik it had fallen to him, the madman and the murderer, but also once a healer and still a poisoner. He was called many things, but it was of no consequence here, to these few he was a General and that was the only title that mattered.

He stood just outside the narrow mountain pass, waiting for them to arrive and once they had he addressed them. "My name is d’Artagnan, the General of the Basin. Tell me your names and why you became a warrior of the north" his words rolled of his tongue in his rough voice, informative and curious.


Warrior rank meeting! d'Art wants to know who you all are :3
@[*Sialia] | @[*Ki'irha] | @[*Caleb] | @[*Crash Course] | @[Carnassial] | @[*Déodat] | @[*Zandora]
Leaders feel free to pop by and anyone who is interested in becoming a warrior.
(totally didn't spell Carni's name wrong >_>'')

my heart’s an endless winter
              filled with rage

Use force at your own peril ;) please tag me!

Carnassial Posts: 11
Outcast atk: 6 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.0 :: 6 || Birdsong HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
For he is a man as cold as winter ice

How strange it was indeed to find himself living in a cave, or so Carnassial thought. He had taken up residence in one of the longer ones, closer to the valley entry, and had just begun exploring it's depths when he heard the faint sound of a call, one that demanded obedience. Carnassial paused, head high and horn just scraping the cieling as he listened(the cave was longer than it was tall), and once the call faded he moved.

The tiger-striped stud barely flinched as the cold bit in, although it's reach sank deep into his flesh. Frozen breath escaped dark-rimmed nostrils as the stallion made his way towards the entrance, amused and curious at the clear sight of his arrival being the first. The man with glass horns was unfamiliar, yet Carnassial bowed his head in respect anyway, gaze drifting away towards the others that trickled in, devilishly-curled ears twitching, memorizing footsteps, sounds and voices.

Finally they all assembled, and the stud turned focus to the strange-horned one, liquid gold eyes watching impassively as the man introduced himself as D'Artagnan, his General. The question had Sial's lips twitching, and he raised his head as he took a step forward; he was the first to arrive, and would be the first to speak. "My name is Sial, and I have always been a warrior of the north. Just...a different north than this." A faint smile curled his lips at his own words, and he bowed his head to D'Art, moving back to his beginning place, thick tail swatting away the snow that stuck to his feathered hocks.

Image Credits || original coding by Tamme; tweaked by Shady

'...Cruel and brutal the blades of the beast...'
Please tag Sial in starting posts only ; Pixel by Bronzehalo

Sialia Posts: 169
Outcast atk: 6 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 8 Years HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
I tried to sell my soul last night, it's funny he wouldn't even take a bite.

The thought of being a corporal still felt weird. I had said it a few times to myself, and it still felt like it rolled off the tongue odd. Like it didn't fit. It kept me wondering why I had been promoted.

In my cave I was, completely dicking off (as usual), when the sound of a call reached my ears. Head lifted slightly, as a soft sigh pushed through my nose and lips. Duty calls. Slowly, begrudgingly I pick my limbs up, into a mosey movement that would be called a lazy walk. I wasn't to keen on going back outside into the frigid basin. It was cold out there.

But carefully I make my way from my cave, carefully stepping down along the rocky and slippery ice and snow strewn landscape. As I neared where the call had sounded from I noticed that more of my brethren where following suit. As we reached closer to the arch I saw our new general. d'Artagnan the Nightshade.

He was an interesting guy, always really grumpy. However I had enjoyed his company once a very very long time ago. There is one other in front of me, a brute I do not recognize, But covered in odd markings, that where both intriguing, and plain weird. I dunno, I don't have much room to talk. I have spirals on my front legs. Those are not something you see everyday.

Finally, we all seem to merge together. And once we are all settled, our general begins to speak. Rough baritones ring out, as he first introduces himself (for those who don't know him), before asking of our names and the reasons behind our choices of becoming warriors. The weird looking man who was in front of me speaks first, and my black ears and blue eyes turn to look at him, soaking in the information of one of my soldiers. First to arrive, first to speak. No hesitation, or nervousness... I like it. After he finishes, I move forward. Might as well keep this up.

"I am Sialia, corporal of the Aurora Basin. My reasoning behind my choice to join these ranks was because I had always been a warrior and knew nothing else... This is where I feel most... Comfortable." A slight smirk lifts my lips, and I remain in my place, waiting on the next soul to speak.

"Speech here."
Tag;; @[]
Words;; 398
Notes;;Shhhhzam Sialia is here.

Credits: Image by semper
[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
A lethal presence, a scheme of corruption, a bounty of heinous elegance, stoked and strove and paid respects to the ways of his reign: forging curiosity and sliding, sinuous ardor through the portended monstrous columns; a borne witness to barbaric qualities, to cretin venues, to merchants and magicians choking, suffocating, and strangling their wicked hymns. With a sibilant grace, with a controlled, composed stride, he composed the tainting, corrupting, devouring customs of devils and infidels, incensing his movements, his motions, into soundless, treacherous wakes, a feast on the heavens, a heedless, callous derision and division of the eaves. The Reaper tarnished where he’d roamed, more than once, more than twice, but this time, this hour, this season, he was resolute and demanding, because there would be no more failures, no more mistakes, no more conundrums begging and pleading and clawing their rasping voices against his skull (the mountains, the peaks, the valleys, deserved everything and anything, and he’d willingly give it the dagger). His vile requiems, his hostile laments, led him down the midnight coils and the archaic parlors, scratching at things left undistorted, rampaging and disregarding, too sunken, too forlorn, too desolate to see if he’d strung abhorrence too far in his presence – bearing all the iniquity, all the sins, all the nefarious, sinister exploits of the world across his taut, rigid shoulders. He heard the Doctor’s interlude of mercenary pursuits, and followed the trail, the ruins, the abominations of their ventures; wanting to know, wanting to see, craving and yearning and wanton for the relish of the battlefield, for the discordant drums of war. He was the most comfortable in rancorous, seditious, scarring, scorching mayhem, where the blistering threads unraveled together into one seething, malicious discord, where the piercing barbs had no end and continued to lay waste to virtuous foes and demonic opponents alike, where the bestial chords could never be broken and the incensed, the strong, the determined, lived on to see another day, another empire unraveled by devastation. The monster thought of consecrated sieges, of bedlam and chaos spread throughout the globe, of his brethren rising, rising, rising to the top of their summit and smirking at the ruin they’d left behind, watching the smoke curl and coil, watching the defeated crumple and fall. A vicious, vehement dream, but one he wove through his rapier, through his membrane, through his corrupted, consumed calculations all the same.

His appearance by D’Art was quiet in its composition, a predator’s stalking, carnivore swing, dedicated to despondency and heralded by hell. The piercing juncture of his eyes roamed over those already gathered, the promise of fortitude and might; the vivid orange of another stung him in both hues and unfamiliarity – a lengthy horn (useful for ranged attacks, for slaying, for flaying, for cutting and lacerating and mauling one’s enemy from a fair distance), a strange obliteration of color – but at least the stag introduced himself, leaving Deimos with something to call him by in future reference. The other, Sialia, had already been a fixture on their battle scenes, on their tarnished, scarred fields, and the beast was content in her answer and might. She’d ascended through the ranks for a reason, persistence and gall and mettle and spirit were due to be rewarded. Before his silence drenched the throng into an uncomfortable lapse, the monster extended a nod of his cranium towards each individual, a brief, curt introduction to the newcomer, Sial, “Deimos, Lord of the Basin,” before arching a singular brow towards the Doctor’s wake. If a smirk emboldened his lips along one of the corners, he said naught about it – maneuvering a few steps behind the newly named General, intent on observing the soldiers one by one.

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

Ki'irha Posts: 176
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 years old HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
We used to look up and wonder at our place in the stars.

Tucked away in her cave, the midnight mare slept. No dreams raced through her head, not this day, as she just needed rest. Since her arrival here, she had been constantly moving, constantly going, and had not taken care of her own needs. So here she lay, curled in the back of the cavern she called home, and huffed quietly in her sleep.

Well, at least until the hellhound showed up.

Her ears were the first to notice the creature entering her sanctuary, and she drowsily opened her eyes. When silver eyes laid upon the beast, she scrambled up, ears back, letting out a shrill cry of surprise. It didn’t take her long to recognize the canine as D’Art’s companion, and her muscles relaxed. “Oh, Aramis, it’s only you,” she replied, her voice groggy and annoyed. “Don’t you belong with D’Artagnan?” She rubbed her knee to her face, trying to wipe the sleep from her eyes. The hellhound kept looking outside, inching further and further towards the entrance. Ki’irha rolled her eyes, giving one last yawn before she followed the hellhound. He trotted off, disappearing, likely continuing his trail of fetching soldiers one-by-one.

She made it outside to hear the last retorts of the doctor’s calling. She trotted off towards the sound of his voice. The wind brushed her hair out, and the coldness woke her bones and her mind. It wasn’t far before she came upon a small gathering of warriors. When she made it, all remnants of sleep had been stripped from her, and she came to a stop before them, a beautiful, starry warrior. Casting her eyes around, she saw she was not the first here, and was interested in learning of the other soldiers who protected this land.

She stepped closer to the stallion who had led her here when she arrived to the Threshold. “D’Artagnan,” She greeted, her voice soft like velvet. “It is lovely to see you again.”

Stepping back, she took her place among the ranks. “I am Ki’irha, a newly anointed Corporal. I was carved by a warrior, into a warrior. Since my childhood, I was taught there was nothing more important than knowing how to fight, how to protect. This land is my home, and I will fight to defend it and all we stand for.” The cobalt mare fell silent. She had many dreams, many goals, many paths that lay before her, calling her. But she always came back to her warrior roots.

She listened intently to the others who presented their reasons for joining the defense of the Aurora Basin. She noted the arrival of her Lord, Deimos. She dipped her head respectfully to him, then turned her head back to D’Artagnan, waiting for the continuation of his speech.
OOC// I know we’re in passive mode, but I just wanted to get this done before I forgot about it.
Tagged// @[D’Artagnan]

Now we just look down and worry about our place in the dirt.
[Image: 5581b91112f69]
Colored by Kels ♡
Lines by Bronzehalo

Please Tag Me ○ Permission for magic and injury is granted. Just no death or permanent harm.

Caleb Posts: 135
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.1hh :: 4yo :: Orangmoon HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Henrietta :: Weimaraner :: None baylee

A baritone bugle had lured him, a sound that told him he needed investigate. He moved diligently towards the call, Henrietta in tow, at a quick walking pace. A crowd of horses have gathered, each horned with bare flanks. A smirk briefly flashed across his velvet maw. Caleb was the only one with pegasus in his veins, and curiously, he wondered if it would aid him and his herd to have a warrior with flight abilities. Caleb would certainly be despised by some, known as the tainted blood that had joined their ranks, yet it didn't really bother him. The beast cared little what others thought of him, and certainly didn't give a fuck if they 'disliked his wings'. A dog had come to him, leading him to the sound and also sending Henrietta on edge. She is not a fan of other canines, be they mythical or not.

Upon arrival, the brute took note that he was taller than the rest, even if just by a mere inch. Still, that inch made him taller, heavier. Halting near the crowd, spotless gaze traced the wild patterns of one warrior. Not good for surprise attacks, he thought. Despite his bright coloring, there was still a gold-tipped weapon on his brow, perched like a crown. Caleb had learnt previously that appearances mattered little once the fight began. He focused on the bay stallion that had (presumably) released the call, beckoning them closer. Words drifted from his dark lips in the form of question and the hybrid listened intently. My name is d’Artagnan, the General of the Basin. Tell me your names and why you became a warrior of the north. The others introduced themselves one by one as Sialia (corporate), Sial (Carnassial) (warrior), Deimos (king), and . When all fell silent, the winged pegasus began his introduction.

"I am Caleb, my hound is Henrietta. My reasons for becoming a Basin warrior are similar to those of Sialia and Ki'irha," he states calmly before continuing. "I seek to protect and serve our herd in the only way I know how and feel comfortable doing," Gaze shifts around momentarily before once more fixing itself on d'Artagnan. "fighting," he concludes. The beast wonders if this is their army, if these horses are to win invasions and become unbeatable. Six horses so far, shadowy Caleb and Deimos included. His mind was elsewhere, however, wondering when their training would begin and whom he'd be facing.

he's a dark road with lots of dangerous curves,
but when the sun goes down he's one hell of a ride

Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
unarchived per request
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode

d'Artagnan the Nightshade Posts: 364
Aurora Basin General atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17hh :: 12 HP: 68.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Aramis :: Common Hellhound :: Hellfire & Superspeed imi
My hands are tied, my body bruised
she's got me with nothing to win and nothing left to lose

For the most part d’Artagnan said little as each arrived, offered a name and proclaimed their reasons for taking up the mantle warrior. It was much easier to address a crowd than each individual in turn, though he would like to know them personally, for now it was time for the basics. Instead he nodded to each one as they spoke, assuring them that he was listening and that more would come later. A few he knew of already, Sialia and Ki’irha, there were two he didn’t know, Sial and Caleb, of course, he knew Deimos. It was oddly empowering to have the Reaper next to him, not because of his brooding demeanour though intimidating it was; it was more of a comfort of having an old friend stood next to him. Though he couldn’t help laughing under his breath a little when he announced his title, like anyone he didn’t know couldn’t have guessed. “Deimos” he dipped his red head in welcome, leaving at that, knowing it was fruitless to try initiate a conversation with the almost mute Lord.

“Have you settled well Ki’irha?” He greeted the dark mare that he had brought back from the Threshold; glad to see her amongst the ranks.

When finally silence fell on the small gathering d’Artagnan cleared his voice to begin proceedings.

“Good. At least we’re all here with intention. I trust we will all work well together,” it sounded odd on his tongue, all this pomp and ceremony, trying to bolster moral after only looking after his own for so long. “At the moment, the Basin has no current conflicts, but this herd has history and not all of it is peaceful. Which means we always have to be alert” the Nightshade said matter-of-factly, feeling his age a little “and practise sparing each other. However not just with the soldiers here, but with the warriors of other herds too, seek out opponents of all species” it almost made him sick to say it, but there was an advantage to knowing your potential enemy.

“There will also be a roster for patrols every season, for both inside and outside the Basin. Though” he grimaced “with our current numbers we might struggle” he sighed finally. “If you happen to be in the Threshold try recruiting some more” he said wryly and with great grumpiness. Still, march on.

“Finally, my position is challengeable. You want my title then take it from me, I encourage you to do so” he taunted them happily, if one of them could beat him then the title was theirs and the more competition the better warriors he had.

“Now, do we have any questions, concerns or things I should know about” he finished, quite pleased with himself.

[ooc: Sorry this is so late, passive mode has me behind on everything >_< BUT LIQUID TIME AND ALL. If you're new to the Basin and/or would still like to join in, feel free to post!

The patrol roster I will get up once the SWP has been revealed so I know whats going on with these new lands heh. Also, if you have a none warrior but would still like to take part in patrols just PM or skype me for now and I'll add your name to the list.]

my heart’s an endless winter
              filled with rage

Use force at your own peril ;) please tag me!

Caleb Posts: 135
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.1hh :: 4yo :: Orangmoon HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Henrietta :: Weimaraner :: None baylee

The dual-horned bay begins with the Aurora Basin's difficult past, and how it is necessary to be vigilant. Regardless of history, Caleb still aims for total alertness, attacks and invasion could come from out of the blue. He the a speaks about sparring and its necessity. Caleb wholeheartedly agrees, mentally making a to-do list inside of his head. Patrolling is next, and the bay claims it may be hard but it needs to be done. Caleb interjects quickly now, as to only comment, not interrupt. "I will gladly take the first shift and any others that need to be filled." He offered, somehow knowing that his help would be needed. If patrolling would be hard, surely they'd be thankful for him offering himself for multiple sessions. The bay says that his position is challenge able, and though that may be an option it won't be chosen until the future, if that. Caleb needs plenty of training before he dares to challenge a higher position only to be brutally defeated.

Caleb, with nothing else to add, stays quiet and surveys the others. All are plain unicorns, Caleb has flight advantage. All the horns here are straight and sharp which Caleb feels is somewhat more useful in battle than ram horns, though the truly great warrior will be equipped with antlers, no doubt. Caleb almost wishes he had antlers, for then he could defend and offend quite easily. The mare to stallion ratio is mostly even, which is not a good or bad thing. The height here is lackluster, no warriors very tall. Where are the drafts that deal much damage? Where are the taller warmbloods? Is everyone here short? The variety of the Basin warriors is horrendous. The only truly different character here is Caleb, because of his wings. The rest of the population is basic, grounded unicorns. Will Caleb always be stuck with attacking from above? In invasions will they expect that of him? It'd be no burden, but mixing it up would be nice.

"blah blah blah."


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