the Rift


[OPEN] paths

Agnodice Posts: 70
Outcast
Mare :: Equine :: 14.2hh :: 8
Herophilos :: Plain Black Dragon :: Toxic Breath prissy
#1

The mare left the Falls without much on her mind. She was focused on exploration, learning the secrets every rock and blade of grass held in this land. There was much she didn't know, though she was unsure of who to ask of her questions. This led to the dainty alabaster and onyx mare weaving her way through Helovia, searching for something, though she knew not what she was looking for.

She had glimpsed a large mountain near her new home. There was a path that wound around it's length. It looked climbable, the trail well traveled, though misty and potentially dangerous. She bounded up it at first, curious to see what dwelled on the top. The journey proved to be a bit more labor intensive than she had expected. By the time she reached the top a layer of sweat gleamed on her hide, her breathing rapid. Her mane and tail had gotten a thin layer of dust on the tips, turning the tips of her onyx tassels a pale caramel color.

She was a bit underwhelmed by the scenery at the top. It was beautiful, but it was nothing particularly spectacular considering what she had gone through to get here. Her mane and tail's normal black hues were now dusty and in dire need of washing. She huffed, walked to the center of the field, and began to look for any herbs that could be useful. Not necessarily to bring them back, just to see if there were any.  blah blah blahblah blah blah blahblah



@Tiamat or Rohan, perhaps? open to all, though! :)

Image Credits
[Image: 5694548be0939]
You’d stick the world into your bedside lane
It’s boredom makes you callous to all pain

Rohan Posts: 132
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.0 :: 8 years HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE
Éomer :: White-tailed Eagle :: Scream Reli
#2
In the days following the Earth God’s battle, he had felt the tantalizing deliverance of comfort, he had felt relief—and, for a moment, he had dared to hope that he had finally been cured of the Flat’s dastardly headache (not pausing to think of how or when exactly, seeking only to be freed from the parasite’s tiny, throbbing, tortuous clutches). He had dared to hope.

However, not long after his pale hooves had swept the flowery bridge once more, grazing Helovia’s mainland with a gait that was far too unsparing, far too proud, the Rift’s accursed sickness had risen again. With every step, the movement had jarred through every fiber of his being, pulsing through his aching muscles only to converge at the base of his skull and behind his eyes, where the pain climaxes in a pounding, blinding agony. Angered to be thrust back down from his moment of elation, torn from the clouds of ecstasy, the Warlander had ran.

A wiser individual would have rebuked him for being so rash, so careless (why run—why force himself further into the black pit that is his suffering?) but Rohan cares little for such nonsense. He had only acted on the primal instincts of his body—to run, to fight—and hadn’t hesitated to ponder the consequences. Up and up he had climbed, barely recognizing the ground as it elevated beneath his hooves, or the burning of his muscles as they pushed him further and further towards the heavens. All he had known was the incessant affliction of his body, and his want—his need—to escape it.

He suffers the consequences now.

With his large body damp with sweat (not from his earlier trek, but from the sickness that sends him spiraling in his misery) Rohan stands at the mountain’s peak, the grassy meadow billowing out behind him. Fresh blood leaks from his ears to stain his cheeks, and his gut churns painfully with the parasite that festers inside of him.

He hardly even notices the arrival of another to this highland field, hardly even recognizes as her scent (so exhilarating, so feminine) curls the velvet skin of his nostrils, or hardly perceives the soft fall of her hooves, muted by the meadow’s thick grasses. Slowly, agonizingly, the Warlander raises his head from where it had fallen (the action far too strenuous) and he pins his ears against the sudden rush of dizziness. The weight of his large antlers is almost too much to bear, and for once he does not boast in their impressive size, but curses it. Looking to the general direction of the stranger (or where he assumes her to be), he extends a gruff, nearly indignant address.

“Hello?”


notes; I'm anxious to get him healed! :3 if you want, he can duck out soon and I'll bring in Tia ^^
EDIT: I just saw that all SWP diseases were cured, so he technically doesn't have HFH anymore xD but if you want to, we can do a quick she "heals" him (he still has burns and bruises anyway), and then he leaves and I can bring in Tia to talk healing :D
“Speech.”

Lend me your hand and we’ll conquer them all,

but lend me your heart and I’ll just let you fall.

Lend me your eyes I can change what you see,

but your soul you must keep,

t o t a l l y   f r e e.
image credits
[Image: 57c5195f31f1b_by_relibelli-db9li1z.png]
please tag Rohan in all replies!
magic & force is permitted, excluding death or permanent injury.

Maren the Crownless Posts: 264
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.0 :: 6 HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE
Mr. Teatime :: Siberian Tiger :: Sing Yewrezz
#3


The grass was long, its tips yellow from the Tallsun's drought as it swayed in the winds. Winds that felt heavier so high in the hills, pressing against her cheeks, taking her mane as they went. Along with it came the typical scent of freshness; one that reminded her of life; of rebirth, of a place under the sun (that she had so selfishly taken). And then the scent regretfully took her back to the battles, the wounded and the dead. But alas, it was how it was. It is how it is.  Her motioned stopped as she took in the landscape that had gone small and picturesque before her silent eyes. But was that really the case? The world had suddenly turned so strange that nothing seemed to be how it was. Not anymore.

Maren sighed and she waited until it felt like enough time had passed to be sure it had been taken by the wind, along with hopefully some of her troubling thoughts. Then, tickled by the meadow's furr, her legs continued carrying her through the thistles and dandelions —wandering. Because at least nothing had changed about that. The hills were still the hills, the air was still the air —still bringing the same scent, and she still thought them all comforting and beautiful as her eyes and lungs bathed in them.

… And yet she only dragged herself here to do her assigned patrol. Misael must be somewhere as well, but she had no clue where, because somehow her being a seer didn’t change the fact that she always seemed to lose her partners along the way.

A bit further up she saw a white- and black equine, standing a bit away from a strange looking unicorn that she couldn’t see that well through the long grasses that framed her vision. She walked up to the girl first: “Goodday, I am the Throat’s diviner, but on patrol,” she greeted the girl’s blue eyes —grudgingly, she had better things to do than this attempted manhunt. Things like building a church or expanding her knowledge. Yet, she liked her to know, maybe because that way Maren could at least get a little bit of amusement out of it, because it felt the same as telling a joke. “Have you by any chance seen my colourful colleague—” Then her alabaster head, always unconsciously searching for anything interesting, noted the blood around the second individual and her eyes widened. Her mind gasped, although her throat stayed put in its silence. “You need a healer,” she noted, looking —inspecting, perhaps hoping to find something that could maybe contradict her own statement.

For she had said and thought it too many times already this month, so many times that the care (the genuine care) had been squished out of it. But healers are busy people these days.



Talking
Patrolling! :D hope you don't mind me popping in <3 

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@Agnodice @Rohan @Misael, to let you know I'm here c:
Please tag me 

Misael Posts: 97
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.3 HH :: 7 years HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Lazarus :: Melanistic Lion :: None ShadowMare
#4
Let me in
I'll show you how the world really is


He had a job to do, he reminded himself as he trudged towards the towering mountains that was to lead to his patrol area. Patrolling was part of being in the Dragon's Throat, and although he was thankful for being included in their works, he hated patrolling. He did enjoy getting to meet the fellows of the throat as well as those not of his home, it made the traveling all over the place bearable. Picking up his head, weighed down by exhaustion, he let his eyes look up at the mountain. With a huff, the beast began the journey to the top of the world. He supposed Maren had managed to get ahead of him, after all Miseal did not bother keeping a relatively somewhat moving pace, instead choosing to be a slow poke to investigate the scenery. 

It was a repetitive process, golden hooves digging into the dry soil and legs coiling to thrust him up the alpine. Do you know how hard it is to make a creature as tall, as bulky, as massive as him to get up a mountain? He persevered though, after seemingly hours, he was finally atop the mountain tops, peering at the heavenly fields that were indeed that; heavenly. This picture reminded him of his night with the lady of stars, her scent flickering in the wells of his nostrils. He hadn't seen Ki'hira since then, he hoped she was well. Miseal was quickly removed from his memories as the tangy, sharp smell of blood filtered through his nasal passages, Ki'hira's falling away. He blinked, golden orbs quickly finding the source. No pity fell upon his bones, as the site of the striped stealer filled his caramel gaze. His ears fell away in the mass of his hair as he pinned them, body tensing and raising to it's true form of massiveness. Ignoring his patrolling partner and the porcelain colored mare, he focused his eyes on the buck, the very hatred and disgust shining through once again. Enna wasn't here, he had nothing to hide. 


"Rohan"

"Talk?"

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Agnodice Posts: 70
Outcast
Mare :: Equine :: 14.2hh :: 8
Herophilos :: Plain Black Dragon :: Toxic Breath prissy
#5

The wind danced through her mane and tail, dragging the onyx tendrils in all directions. She thought, at first, the rustling of the grasses was just the wind, convulsing against the honey and fern colored stalks. But wind has no voice, no alabaster locks, or frosted legs. Agnodice raised her head slowly, turning to give the approaching equine an investigative glance. A mare, taller than herself, miniature wings tucked behind her ears, amber eyes, stripes that almost made her blend in with the surrounding grass.

The mare came closer, then began to speak, introducing herself. Her words proved to be intriguing to the alabaster and ebony doctor. She pricked her ears forward, raising her brow a tad. What business does a diviner (what she considered to be a peacekeeper) have patrolling Agnodice held her tongue for the moment as Maren continued to speak.

Her brow furrowed at Maren's next words. Colourful colleague? Did she mean in the sexual orientation sense or the body sense? She thought about this, her turquoise gaze drifting away from the stripey mare and to the horizon. The mare didn't seem too concerned with her, anyways.

“Hello?”

A gruff whisper, pained and resentful, low notes indicating this was a stallion. Agnodice looked abruptly to the stallion, finding a large man of golden coloring with soft stripes and crowned with a large set of antlers. She heard Maren say something, but Agnodice's thoughts were no longer preoccupied with her.

She didn't hesitate to leave the stripey mare's side and step closer to the stallion, frowning upon seeing the blood pouring from his ears. She knew this disease. At least she could do something for it.

"Hold still," Agnodice commanded, closing her eyes and focusing on her flowers. Just as they were beginning to bud in her curtains of soft onyx hair, someone else joined their party. She heard a name, Rohan, stated with immense distaste. She paused her magic momentarily, glancing at the newcomer. She could only guess that he was the colourful colleague Maren had spoken of. Agnodice felt slightly (maybe a little more than slightly) annoyed by his interruption, but she had more pressing matters to take care of.

Agnodice closed her eyes, turning back to the stallion on the ground. She focused once more on her flowers, this time the soft glowing buds blooming and blossoming, filling the air with floral aromas. A few little blossoms fell to the ground, too weak to hold up to the magic she needed them to. When the others had blossomed to their fullest extent, their glow intensified, transferring the soft light to the golden stallion's head. Once the magic left the flowers, their glow diminished and fell to the ground by Agnodice's feet, crumbling and withering amongst the grasses. They would soon be nothing more than dust in the wind.

She opened her eyes after the last flower fell, stepping closer to who she assumed was Rohan to quickly examine him. "Better?" She asked, though the question was mostly rhetorical. She knew he would be. She turned back to the colorful, striped duo, her features curious. "So what are you two patrolling for?" She asked, the words sounding casual despite the possibility of their answer being severe. Her brow furrowed, whipping her head to the golden stallion. "Wait - how much do you know about that disease?" She asked of him, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed by the disproportionate spread of knowledge here. She had too many questions to ask them all at once, but she found them all equally important.



aggy basically says why are you all here??? w hat is going on? ???  ? cx
@Rohan @Random Event

Image Credits
[Image: 5694548be0939]
You’d stick the world into your bedside lane
It’s boredom makes you callous to all pain

Rohan Posts: 132
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.0 :: 8 years HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE
Éomer :: White-tailed Eagle :: Scream Reli
#6
From somewhere, he hears voices, feminine and lilting and beautiful; the stallion turns his heavy head slowly in their direction. Gradually they become louder, and he curses this sickness as their soprano chimes resonate like carillons through his ears, resounding and echoing at a wavelength that is much too unforgiving to be comfortable. He clenches his eyes shut for a moment, gritting his teeth against the wave of pounding agony before shifting his large body to angle in the mares’ direction. “You’re very observant,” he says dryly to the striped mare, his brown lips twisting into a smirk at a mild attempt at humor.

His green eyes rise to her face, pale and delicate, framed with a dainty pair of wings—and suddenly, memories manage to weave through his disease-induced haze, clutching at details. The white of winter, a mass of bodies, the crackling of fires—and her. “Maren, isn’t it?” The Warlander muses, recollections continuing to dance through his foggy mind. He has an impeccable memory—particularly when it comes to females—and he remembers her specifically, simply because it had been her that caught his eye those many months ago. Distantly, he remembers following her to the fires, resting at her side among the others.

“I believe we met some time ago…at the Falls’ festivities,” Rohan fights stubbornly against the pain, his words more cut and slow than usual, although he manages to give her a crooked, almost playful grin. “Don’t worry, I won’t fault you for not remembering,” a low chuckle rumbles through his broad chest. Lowering his head a few degrees beneath the weight of his antlers, the Warlander shifts his attention to the other mare when her command trills through the warm air.

His thick neck arches as his head is pulled into his chest, intending to follow her instruction with a firm gritting of his jaw, before something else creeps in. The scoundrel’s voice twists his gut, sending a new wave of pain lancing through his abdomen, but Rohan clutches at it, allowing it to ignite his simmering anger. “Ah, Misael,” the name is spit from his tongue in a low hiss, burning like bile at the back of his throat. The antlered stallion raises his head proudly, green eyes narrowing as he fixes the colorful buffoon with a venomous glare. “Come to mangle more dead fillies’ corpses?” It is a cold and bitter accusation, one without mercy, “I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere for that.” The length of his thick tail lashes about his flanks, biting at the scabbed, cracking skin of his flanks.

It is only when the glowing blossoms begin to bloom in the mare’s hair that he tears his gaze away from the other stallion, one of his rimmed ears rising in interest from its flattened position. He’s never seen such a thing before. Watching the shining balls of light closely, his curiosity intensifies when they move, floating from the flowers to him—and his skin delights in a warm, pleasant sensation where they touch him. Broad shoulders lifting in a long sigh of relief, he closes his eyes in bliss as the pain is chased away from his body. Humming his pleasure, he glances to his wounded hips, where they are all but healed now, thanks to both hers and Enna’s efforts. The only other evidence of his suffering is the dried blood below his ears, where it had before trickled.

Looking to the ivory mare, he gives her a wide, crooked smile. Yes—thank you, sweetheart,” his deep voice is a purr of satisfaction, and his relief is nearly overwhelming—even the presence of that animal doesn’t dampen his spirits now. Shaking out his long mane in cascades that billow over his neck and around his face, Rohan rests his weight more comfortably (content now to freely enjoy the lovely mares’ company).

Sparing his attention only for the ladies, a hard rumble of laughter rolls from his throat at the little white mare’s enthusiastic explosion of questions. “Other than the fact that it was like hell ripping me from the inside out?” He tilts his head sideways and peers at her with wry amusement, one side of his golden brow rising beneath his forelock. A huff of breath escapes him before he continues. “I think it was some sort of parasite, in the gut,” Rohan presses his lips together, remembering the festering that had agitated his abdomen, sure that he had been invaded somehow, “but the throbbing headache was the worst of it.” He nods once absentmindedly, appeased now to be rid of the wretched sickness.


notes; Sorry for the wait! I wanted him to be able to react appropriately ^^
“Speech.”

Lend me your hand and we’ll conquer them all,

but lend me your heart and I’ll just let you fall.

Lend me your eyes I can change what you see,

but your soul you must keep,

t o t a l l y   f r e e.
image credits
@Agnodice @Maren @Misael
[Image: 57c5195f31f1b_by_relibelli-db9li1z.png]
please tag Rohan in all replies!
magic & force is permitted, excluding death or permanent injury.

Maren the Crownless Posts: 264
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.0 :: 6 HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE
Mr. Teatime :: Siberian Tiger :: Sing Yewrezz
#7


Even though her own  mind had dragged her into this dramatic setting, these other persona’s didn’t seem to be in it as well. Even the wounded stallion with the antlers was calm and laughed her off. Her non-existent eyebrows rose as she huffed at him. “Not really, it is just fairly obvious.” she said through her teeth before turning away so that the girl, who was apparently a healer (don’t you have anything better to do than enjoying the hill’s breeze?), could have some space to do her healer-thing —Even though she was now thinking he hadn’t been so in need for a healer, after all, hearing how his brain seemed to function just fine and the words flew from his mouth as easily as the wind —She thought, because she really wasn’t that observant (it was one of her lacking qualities amidst the many she did have). Or at least she sometimes failed to see why others didn’t get things the way she did, or why they did things that were useless and meaningless —A waste of time, like this patrol or mourning the dead.

“Don’t worry, I won’t fault you for not remembering.”

She didn’t really feel like replying to him, to be honest, as she didn’t like his way of speaking to her. It lacked… It lacked… — Well, she had to think about it for a bit, but then she finally concluded that it lacked respect. As if he didn't actually see the wisdom she held, was looking at her as an object instead (a woman). But it wasn’t like she would say anything, since he was still the patient here. “Yes, we did.” she eventually agreed, because; did she even care enough what his thoughts were like, for; did he not seem like the carefree spirit that held them on his tongue for the world to see, anyway?  

"Misael", Rohan said in a strange, obnoxious tone.

She turned her winged head to see the colourful colleague she had been searching for. Still, as he joined them, tension seemed to rise. Something between Rohan and Misael wasn’t quite right. There was that, which was then followed by the antlered stallion who let stuff roll out of his mouth that was almost an accusation. She let her silent gold eyes wander back to Misael, the hugely horned informant of the Throat. Except for the pondering in her mind, she was silent; her lips unmoving. She could not tell anything from his face, or his stance. Still, unlike Rohan, he was her family. And maybe it was undeserved, but she stood on his side.     

It was weird, this atmosphere, and she didn’t quite understand Rohan’s attitude that followed. Seemingly so carefree and happy, the way he laughed and spoke to the black and white girl. But maybe it was best forgotten and left aside. “We are simply doing our rounds. Ever since the new lands appeared we have been extra cautious, just in case.” she shrugged, because still she wasn’t quit sure if this would be the best way for a diviner to waste her precious time. For her it would make more sense to be studying the recent happenings and ponder about the reasoning behind the God’s actions. Meanwhile her heart was beating faster these days and her mind was filled with chaos, for the world had been covered by a blanket of unknowing and vague prophecies without anyone really being aware of it, it seemed.

—Which was why she just wanted to get it over with, so she nudged the big horned stallion (if he even felt that). "We should move on," she added, knowing that only the fact that she held a higher rank made it that she could even suggest following her orders.



It would be logic to move out, but idunno let's see what happens <3 

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@Agnodice @Rohan @Misael
Please tag me 


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