the Rift


SWP :: Blunt Little Instruments (Conclusion)

Tiamat the Ocean's Light Posts: 360
Aurora Basin Lady atk: 8 | def: 10 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.2 :: 6 years HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Nimue :: Common Orca Leviathan :: Boil Reli
#21
No dreams within her heart,
but dreams of love.
Behind her, the ocean mare recognizes when Enna wakes—sparing a brief glance to see that the brown mare has roused from her unconsciousness, and is able to lift herself to her hooves. That is enough for Tiamat now, knowing that her dear friend is well enough to move, even if she leaves the battlefield soon after (surely, Tiamat would wish for nothing else, but for the Mender to put distance between herself and further injury). However, nearly all of the blue mare’s attention is directed towards the very center of the turmoil—where the winged filly plunges forward, recklessly throwing herself into harm’s way.

With her heart leaping, throbbing, and twisting painfully in her terror, Tiamat thrusts herself forward, ignoring the cry of instinct that tempts her away—away, far from this violence and chaos and hate—as she wills her slender legs to carry her further into the mass of rioting bodies. By some miracle, perhaps with her mother’s watchful guidance, the ocean mare is able to avoid any collision. White eyes are fixated on Galiel, a shriek of concern choking in her throat when she sees the filly electrocuted and plummeting towards the ground.

The world stops—slows—the cries and hounds of battle suddenly fading into the heartbeat that thumps wildly in her ears. From somewhere, Tiamat knows that she is crying, calling out in desperation for the pale filly, but she cannot seem to hear her own voice above the pounding. Her legs don’t move fast enough, and it feels like an eternity has passed before she finally reaches where Galiel has fallen. “Galiel—!” Tiamat gasps in desperation, sliding to an unceremonious halt and hovering worriedly over the gangly body.

Time passes and the chaos slowly quiets, the roar of combat fading into the painful, woeful cries of a war’s terrible aftermath. Anxiously, she waits for Galiel to stir, her breath held and her heart hammering until she sees the young one’s ice blue eyes. “Oh, Galiel,” the mare breathes in an overwhelming sigh of relief, tears springing to the back of her eyes and despite the budding of frustration at the filly’s disobedience, she smiles warmly. “You don’t need to apologize, little one,” Tiamat brushes her cheek gently, her attention then shifting to the filly’s tremoring muscles. “Just hold still—or, try to,” a light, tense laughter slips from her lips, “try to relax.”

Arching her neck to comb through her collection of herbs, the ocean mare settles first on a combination of chamomile and arnica flowers—the first is meant to ease the muscle spasms, and the second is an anesthetic (she doesn’t give Galiel enough to make her sleep, not yet, but enough to help her relax). “Eat these for me, they should help calm your muscles,” she offers the sprigs to the winged filly, turning then to make a salve for the mild burn wounds that are laced across Galiel’s shoulders and legs, the repercussion of the energy surging through her little body.


notes; Tends to Galiel's wounds c:
“Speech.”
image credits | @Galiel
please tag Tia in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

Shida Posts: 109
Deceased atk: 3.5 | def: 7 | dam: 6
Filly :: Unicorn :: 16 :: 3 (ages in Birdsong) HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Princess :: Common Hellhound :: Hellfire Odd
#22
Shida
How dare you say that my behavior is unacceptable
So condescending unnecessarily critical


[insert farting noises here]

Because that's about how I feel about all this shit.

So that's it huh? Just, casually opening up some rifts in space and time, having to fight off some fucking other Gods, and then ... just what? This half-assed speech? Hasn't Earthy ever seen like ... any movie before? I mean, get your shit together bro. This is where your epic moment comes - a speech from the mount, life changing, blah blah blah. And all we get is, hey folks, shit should stop pouring out of your noises now. Congratulations, your fucking colds are cured.

"The fuck is that-" Princess edges forward, grabbing at a claw thrown at my hooves. Oh nice. "Guess there won't be a you-killed-a-god giftshop." I snort unhappily. "What am I supposed to make this shit into a stew? No fucking thanks." Except Princess is now happily chewing on it, and so I guess I can't just throw it back into the fray.

"Nice job with the fire." I mumble to the hellhound, who happily throws the claw into the air, only to catch it again. "Looks like you've learned a thing or two. A+"

Well. I guess that's fucking all. World saved. Go team Helovia. Only it doesn't feel that way. It feels anticlimactic and dirty somehow. Prizes from a dead body? No ending speech? No letting the credits roll? Where's the easing tension? Where's the end of this, nicely wrapped up?

Nah, if you ask me, this whole thing is buggered.

Shida, OUT.
Image Credits || original coding by Tamme; modified by Shady



Mentions  @Mauja

Virgil Posts: 19
Deceased atk: 3.0 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.0
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.1 :: 9 HP: 58.0 | Buff: Novice
Odd
#23

The denouement came, and with it disturbing silence.

Virgil's ears moved restlessly as the horrific screams of the God he once knew and feared, were drowned to silent sobs by an amazonian creature with wings and horns. Yet even this nearly miraculous and incredible sight was lost on him, for his sweet and darling Ava was no where to be found.

Through bated breath and clenched teeth, the guardian looked for his ward, but only found smoke encircling his hooves. "Hell or not I shall find her!" He vowed to himself, whispering the words into his blood stained chest. 

Virgil's sea-green gaze rose as the God tossed towards him a bone, likened into a sword. Horrified, the guardian moved forward to stand over the thing, looking at with a wide and uncomprehending stare.

Am I meant to fight my way out of this hell? He wondered, tentatively lowering his nose to inspect the arcane weapon. But how? Who was it that he was meant to kill, to win back Ava? To secure their place in heaven? Surely it couldn't be that simple? Why should it? And how could the death of another buy his way out of his purgatory? Hadn't he killed enough already? Virgil's gaze skirted to the dead God before him, and the living one who had given him the sword. Was his death not enough? Were Virgil's struggles to keep Ava safe - his screams to move away from the water and to hide from the oncoming storm - had that not been enough?

What would be?

But perhaps most importantly and prominently

Where was Ava?

VIRGIL
Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.
Ascended Helovian

Gaucho The Wildfire Posts: 1,004
Deceased atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.2 :: 12 HP: 85 | Buff: PINNACLE
Mara :: Black Mamba Snake :: Paralyze & Vorsa :: Plain Zephyr :: Phoenix Odd
#24
With fire to keep us warm, and tools we made from rocks and bones


Things happened suddenly, and in an order Gaucho's primitive mind didn't necessarily understand.

He remembered landing in front of Zero - ready to take whatever assault was cast the boy's way - and then suddenly ... suddenly the son he believed he had was flying. Flying in a way the warrior knew was impossible. Still, the boy soared, even if it was only for a blissful few seconds. Through the tepid air, through the frigid screams and worn-out warnings, Zero flew.

But it didn't last.

Had Gaucho planned on scolding Ampere for letting Zero (regardless of his paternity) into this battle, the intention was immediately lost, as a streak of Blu roughly ended the boy's flight. It was like something out of Shakespeare - both parents likely had a hand in what was about to happen. In their effort to protect Zero, they only broke him.

In that moment, as both Ampere and Zero crashed to the ground, Gaucho's predatory primal mind was diverted. He cared not for the God who was being dismembered, and he could hardly hear the words of the Earth God, as he praised them and made promises. He only saw mother and son.

Both of whom were his in as many ways as they weren't.

But that didn't matter.

Selfishly, he somehow knew that things between he and Ampere could never be truly healed - or even close - should Zero die. And while he only saw the two fall out of the air, given their circumstances there could have been many other things at work. Was it only a crushed limb? Or was there something more breaking inside of the boys body?

[Cont. in Zero's thread. :3 ]





Image Credits
Please tag me in every post! Magic/Force is allowed on Gaucho at any time.


Gull Posts: 120
Absent Abyss atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 6
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16 hh :: 9 (Tallsun) HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Splat :: Royal Zephyr :: Phoenix Shady
#25
Gull

He knew not how long he lay there, for the Tallsun sun moved slowly and did little to help mark the time. Though the silver-stained stag was still, every muscle seemed to strain at the slightest noise. Each small movement worsened the agony in his head. Paranoid from the pain he was suffering, Gull was convinced that every rustle signalled the beginning of his final battle.
 
And yet…no one came. The pounding hooves grew no closer, and not a soul strayed from the battlefield. In time, he caught the sound of a dreadful yowl and a hiss that carried on the breeze, followed by a booming voice that sounded vaguely familiar (though he couldn’t make out the words). After that, the vibrations that he had been feeling began to lessen, and gradually they nearly ceased altogether. Gull could still hear a few scattered screams—cries awful enough that he momentarily elected to let his own pain drown out the anguish of others’—but then the island grew quiet. It was almost as if the entire field had dispersed.
 
But that would make no sense. Where were the troops of soldiers? The young ones running scared from the carnage? He must have heard hundreds of war stories growing up, tales told in gravelly voices from mangled tongues and scarred throats, testaments of firsthand experience. If this had been a battle, then where were the victors? And where were the survivors? Unless…yet he couldn’t allow himself to believe that there had been none. He knew that it happened, had heard rumors…oh, how quiet it was. Suddenly desperate for noise, for any sign of life, he raised his head to whinny.
 
But nothing came out, save a breathy rasp.

OOC: Questing, part IV!

trouble just grew wings
Image Credit
Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!

Archibald the Dauntless Posts: 386
Absent Abyss atk: 6.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 8
Stallion :: Equine :: 18.3 hh :: 10 years HP: 80 | Buff: SHIELD
Loretta :: Alaskan Malamute :: Time Slip Time
#26

In a warm sweep of air and a collossal crash, everything was finished. The Dauntless raised his head, armor collapsing across his body and resting against his blackened breast. His body ached with the burns he sustained, but the pain was a mere pebble compared to the pain of dragonfire licking across his skin. Golden eyes narrow some, but concern laces his mind (mind faintly throbbing with the reconnection to his lost companion, whimpering in the distance). Turning, Archibald went to reach forward and down and touch the shoulder of the demigod, praying within his heart that she was not dead. Ophelia, Ophelia. His mind whispers some, a dull thought of the one who should be standing guard over the hybrid filly.

Before his pale nose can reach her, however, Roskuld is up and charging and screaming. The massive warlord lifted his head quickly, snorting as he watched her run off toward the shore. "ROSKULD!" He called after her, taking two or three steps in her direction. He watched with curious, concerned eyes as the demigod closed the distance to a spotted figure, one Archibald recognized as Mauja. Archibald could not tell what was happening in the distance, and as he moved his massive hooves forward to follow the Child of Spark, a quick and awkward, dark movement caught his eye. Turning his head, Archibald draped his gaze over his panicked nephew.

There was something wrong, surely, and Archibald shifted his weight. What was happening? Golden eyes swept to where his companion was, careful whispers of her mind reentering his own. "Milo." Archibald breathed the child's name in the wake of battle, eyes lifting then from the silver-black boy to look for his own son. Abraham's body moved away into shadows and Archibald stood silent, watching twin dragons follow the wake of the young titan. Sighing, Archibald knew he needed to follow Milo's beckoning.


[Archibald continues in private thread w/ Knox.]



Through the ages of time
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.


please tag me

Einarr Posts: 113
Absent Abyss atk: 5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.2 hh :: 8 years HP: 67 | Buff: NOVICE
Time
#27
Heaving chest of the sea
Carry both of us
Carry her, carry me

Frustration bloomed in Einarr's mind when his attack missed the creature. So, even as she fell, and he moved away, he could not find pleasure in the end of the battle. He felt unfulfilled as a warrior, and it angered him. His dark tail whipped over his hocks and his teeth gnashed on air, body hot and wounds burning with pain and the warmth of his emotion. Grunting, massive black wings snapped open on the capable stallion's back and he thought about jumping into the air and flying hard back to the Oasis, but then he remembered his eldest was in this fight, and the sudden thought switched his brain from that of an offended warrior to that of a concerned father.

"Mordecai!" He called out into the masses, the fray still buzzing with action as loved ones attended to their hurts and their losses. Finding the black and grey-brindled body crumpled on the ground, Einarr surged toward her. He forgot his own pain, pushing away the throbbing sensations from the tar-burns on his throat and chest. "My Mordecai," the bloodrider breathed into her mane, pressing his nose into her neck. Red-brown eyes searched for blood hungrily, but he found no trace of it. "Mordecai report injuries." He commanded, though his father's mind was outweighing his warrior's mind and his voice was laced with the concern of his heart.

Lifting his head, the stallion searched for a healer. He did not recognize the blue-spotted woman that was their head healer, or, really any healer from the Dragon's Throat except Gaucho--and he was busy with Ampere's child. Gritting his teeth, Einarr lowered his head again. "Is ok, Mordecai. Shhhh," He whispered, totally in the dark about how to help his daughter in this moment.

And thus, Einarr was handed the father of the year award.

EINARR

aud is a boss

if you bury me, i'll bury you
pixel by sourful

Abraham Posts: 113
Absent Abyss atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17.3 hh :: Three years HP: 71 | Buff: NOVICE
Gwyneverre :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath & Brienne :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Frost Breath Time
#28
Like his father was scarred with burns, so too would Abraham be. The stallion grit his teeth as he collided with the Tiger Goddess, the burning sensation starting immediately on his large shoulder. At the eruption of pain, twin dragons are called back to attention on their master. The god falls and Abraham stumbles backwards and away from the chaos, the fray. Heavy, his companions land o his back, careful to stay away from the sensitive burns. Trilling their concern, the dragons attempt to send comforting waves towards their bondmate. Brienne, gently, breathes frost over the affected area. Abraham, in all his might and glory, bites his tongue to keep from crying out in pain. The shift from burning to freezing is instant, and his tail slaps hard against his hocks. Dark ears pin down into his mane,and Gwyneverre leans over to snarl at her sister. The queen, however, ignores the princess. All she knows is that Abraham is in pain, and she has some ability to help ease it.



The darkling pays no mind to those clustered around him. There is no existence of his father, of the grey-brindled filly, or those he knows in some way. Instead, the stallion pushes into the underbrush. He must go away and heal, find something to devour to ease the stinging on his shoulder. Brienne's ice had helped, even though it was painful at first. Tightening his jaw, Abraham pressed on to find the herbs his mother had advised him to eat when he felt pain as a child. Twin dragons, satisfied in Abraham's abilities, take to the skies to hunt. The meals on this island were sure to be interesting, they mused together, their trills lost to the greenery as Abraham grumbled to himself.


Abraham
So this is the hate I've been born to
Full are the tales of the untrue

image credits
table by whit

Holy water cannot help you now
Thousand armies couldn't keep me out
I don't want your money
I don't want your crown
See I've come to burn your kingdom down


pixel by tamme

Ampere The Mother of Companions Posts: 719
Dragon's Throat Sultana atk: 9 | def: 11 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14 hh :: 6 years HP: 73 | Buff: DANCE
Kygo :: Green Cheek Conure :: None Blu
#29

Ampere & Zèklè
Screaming.
Lub dub.

Fire,
Whump whump.

Zero.
Bzt bzt.

Those were the things that spun around Ampere's mind as her body spun from the sky. As if caught in a rip tide she felt weak to the tumbling currents, unable to discern up from down even as the ground clearly rushed towards her for a calming kiss. She struggled at some point, or at least, she thought she did, but maybe she just fell too, like a stone.

And then there was quiet. Just, quiet.

Noise still carried on around her. War didn't just, shut up, not even when it was over (evident as the Earth God prattled on). The difference was she wasn't listening, or couldn't hear, or maybe both. Part of it was because she was winded, so as she gasped on the ground like a fish out of water she mostly just heard her own heart beat inside her ears where it roared like the sea in a conch shell. She heard the wheeze of air as it rattled between her nose and her windpipe, strained and slow and by the gods painful. She heard the way her nerves caught fire within her wing, but it was nothing compared to the shouting and the fire that razed within her own heart, nothing like the words that died on her tongue but echoed inside her throat.

Zero.

Then, at last, something. A sound so small she shouldn't have heard it, but there among the moors of the war she drifted between, she found it for its difference, for it's whisper and it's hurt. She grabbed at it, and like a silver fish it spun in her grip shaky and wild.

'm I a hero, Ma?
Her lashes blinked away water.

[continued in Zero's thread]



Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.


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