the Rift


[OPEN] have the people changed

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
#1
The world managed to shift in peculiar ways. What had started as a preface to alliance building, to negotiated armistices, to specific ceasefires, built to scorched friendships and missing companions, ended in a distorted, foreboding measure. It’d been as if everything had been forgotten, tied and tethered elsewhere, led astray and built on a ledge he couldn’t reach. Distractions aplenty: there’d been too many monsters, too many villains, too many Gods, too many chances to obliterate, to defy, to massacre, and the chain of discussions and discourse had been abandoned, left simmering, brewing, and brooding, an opportunity wasted. The Reaper was not a beast strung together by merchants of fate or predetermined misgivings, he didn’t sit upon his throne and hope an opportunity came by; he waited, he calculated, he machinated, he marched and deliberated, seized and stole, plundered and pillaged – and he had no intention of returning to his kingdom empty-handed. He’d slowly eroded from the silent mercenary, from the stoic, nonchalant General, to a King who melded, molded, and shaped his misgivings, his flaws, his defects, into sterner measures, into defiance and dissent. He would not be a Lord surveying from shadows with naught but the predacious glow pervading his devilish soul; he would not be a crowned carnivore with naught to his name but the stature of demise and the calling of revolution mottled to his brow. He’d alter, change, and morph to strengthen his sovereign, to protect and safeguard his comrades. There was too much at stake to give up now, and if Deimos was anything, it was resolute, adamant, and unwavering, one more satanic chassis intending to grasp, clench, and hold what they wanted – whether or not it was something Mauja craved remained to be seen.
 
So he returned to the haunting fringes of the World’s Edge without his son or the Mender, eyeing the choking mist and the falling leaves, listening to the roaring seas meet the rocks and cliffs with a barbaric crash (and remembered the way he listened to its sound over and over again, alone and unafraid, much like the stones, rubble, and ruin, unaware of what perils would face them in the seasons ahead). Just as merciless as the sea, just as heartless as the tides, just as belligerent, vehement, and ferocious as the wake of the ocean and the roaring waves, he meandered close to the borders, a predator tracing old footsteps, worn traps, and broken snares. The pieces of his past flickered and ghosted around him, phantom paintings, wraith writhing, specter sketches of days spent harboring only discord, only malice, only chaos, and staring in disbelief when they’d finally found bedlam, and subsequently rewarded with a devastating loss – an empire no longer theirs. The narrowed slate of his eyes stared into the void, and his mouth offered one firm bellow, calling for the leader, for the familiar slate of ice and rime, for the mold of yesteryear to return to the present. He’d try and try and try again, unyielding, tenacious, a billowing barb of smoke, fire, and death.


[Possible Basin/Edge alliance thread #2. XD]
DEIMOS
delivered from the blast
last from a line of lasts
and now the kingdom comes crashing down undone
background pattern by webtreatsetc.deviantart.com
image credits

@Tembovu @Elsa

Tembovu the Elephant Posts: 805
World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT
Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen smitty
#2
The change of season left the Edge shrouded in a new sort of beauty— and the Elephant King was surprised to find himself thinking the Edge beautiful, at all. When he had first entered these lands, trailing after a spotted stallion who seemed more ice than living being, he hadn’t exactly been taken with the misty forests and crumbling cliffs. He was a straightforward man of action (or so he thought himself), and mist allowed for hiding and subterfuge. The cliffs, while breathtaking, were made of crumbling white rock that was nothing like the sturdy, supportive plains in Dorobo. In short, it had been his opposite.

But opposites attract.

So now, given the grace of time, he found himself meandering through the trees, appreciating the warm and bright colors of leaves that both faded into and leapt out of the mists. The coolness that lingered still irked him— and he knew it would only worsen. That was one thing he would not, could not, grow to like. His body, though large, was designed and adjusted to the heat of grasslands.

Such mindless musings were interrupted by a firm, demanding bellow echoed throughout the herdlands. The Elephant had been summoned often as of late, but those other calls lacked the command and unreserved power that rumbled in this boom. Such undertones belonged only to leaders. He halted, cream ears perked towards the borders, giant head raised as he pinpointed the source of the sound. As he did so, the last meeting with leads dimly swam through his memories— it had been with Mauja as lead and nothing had come of it. Truth be told, the Elephant was mildly relieved, for he had no love for the Basin.

Still, alliances were useful— important— to a herd, and it would be unwise to slight the call of another ruler. Perhaps it would be the fire-winged lead of the Throat? So he rolled into a slow lope, carrying his heavy body with resounding steps towards the call.

Alas, the ominous man of death and dark eyes appeared before him in the fog. He slowed his massive frame to a jog, a walk, and finally a halt. Leveling meeting the gaze as dark blue as his own, he nodded his massive horn in greeting to the once-met stallion. “Hello, Deimos. I am Tembovu— we met briefly when you last honored the Edge with a visit,” though his words were carefully impassive, there was an air of genuineness to them; the meeting had been brief, the giant wasn’t certain the Lord would remember him. “I have succeeded Mauja as King. And Elsa has become Queen,” his eyes flickered ever so slightly to the skies, wondering if the Icebound had heard the Reaper’s call, before returning his calm gaze to the dark grey stallion, “You called?” Though his question was simple and straightforward, he takes a step backwards, inviting the Lord over the threshold with his body language.
Tembovu
The Elephant King
image | code by Avis

Please tag Tembovu.

Elsa the Icebound Posts: 644
World's Edge Protector atk: 6 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2 Hands :: Six (Frostfall) HP: 73 | Buff: BULK
Edgar :: Plain Zephyr :: Arctic & Wakiya Klare
#3
Elsa
The landscape was unchanging, to her, it looked as if her body and mind had been frozen. Every word and action came in one ear and went out the other. Processing anything just seemed utterly impossible. She was in one of those horrid ruts again, where every day seemed to repeat itself over and over and over again. She was just a boring vinyl replaying constantly. But today would be different, but still not great at all.

A demanding bellow cascading across the land like night. It pulled day away with it as it crossed over the Edge. Elsa's ears angled backward in annoyance. Edgar curled up on her head, dreadfully anxious about what it could be. But her duty was to follow- to call. She'd never be as vigilant as Tembovu, but she needed to show her face sometime. She can't keep hiding from the Edge, or him, forever. She picked up a light trot, following the sound. Unsurprisingly, The Elephant had beaten her. It seemed she had missed the grand introductions, and so she quietly took her place next to Tembovu. This man, probably a high ranking member, reeked of the Basin. Her stomach churned, as she was always set to expect the worse. She already bore one scar from them, and she was not willing to take another. "Welcome to the Edge. I am his infamous counterpart." She smirked, trying to force humor into her stoic face. At least it was an attempt at friendship and commodity with her sworn enemy. Edgar peeped his own hello, glancing at the dark stallion warily.

"Morbi vestibulum mollis nibh a varius."
________________________________________
sometimes we expect too much of ourselves,
afterall, we are only mortal.
The Icebound
/ image
  • Any force can be used against Elsa.
  • Please tag any posts that involves Elsa.

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
#4
Perhaps today was one of the many times he played the fool or the jester, instead of the soldier or the Lord.
 
He lurked and slunk along the borders, composed and demonic, wicked and eerie, predacious, the pariah to continents and countries; whittling away time spent when he could have harpooned and relished before. But the Reaper didn’t tend to those muddled thoughts, merely waited, not daring to be spellbound by the clouds of ash and smoke and dust and debris, or beguiled by the haunting illuminations, by the strike of shoal and surf, by the riches of the world long since passed by. If his eyes were haunted around the rim, if they were flecked by daunting impossibilities, he didn’t notice, didn’t realize, listening to the drum of the earth and the sounds of past wars; where he devoured foes, where he drove his spear into sides, where he vanquished, but they couldn’t do the same as a whole.
 
Where they lost.
 
Another made an appearance from the abyss, and he turned toward the sound, the noise, expecting his former icy lord, rendering his features into something amiable, affable, plain but disheveled by time, control, and reticent, vile composure – but the creature admitted from thrones and castles and palisades wasn’t Mauja. The infidel’s brow furrowed a tiny fraction, confused, befuddled, by the foreboding nuances, by the strange, sweeping hands of fate binding them elsewhere, by how change had affronted and blasted him so quickly all over again. No spots, no adornments, no friendly overtures; only the appearance of one he scarcely knew, claiming the throne in Mauja’s place. He recognized him from the prior occasion, but was altogether too confused, too rattled, to recall his name – the questions miring his brain were coiling, sinuous and slinking, distorting anything and everything. How had Mauja been displaced? Had he lost a battle? Was he gone? Had one more fled into the skies, into the void, into the hollowed bits of hell without him knowing? Instead of standing there, soundless and mute, the menacing, befuddled cretin warranted a few words, attempting to possess the miniscule skills he had in conversing. “My apologies, Lord Tembovu. I presumed I would be speaking with Mauja,” and before he could get another word in, before he could clench his jaw in avid frustration, before he could ascertain the invitation bestowed upon him, one more arrived, a Pegasus, ivory and pure, chilling and smirking, one more creature he’d likely seen on a stray path but had no name to the plumes or crown she now bore. Was this the aforementioned Elsa?
 
How? - was all that came to be, was all that came to pass through his schemes. He rendered no foot forward, no dagger thrown, no heathen, malicious plunge, granting only the solid, stoic provisions of his primordial predilection; a powerful immersion of nonchalance and recherché. To both, he hardened, he tightened, and he stiffened, bestowed a nod to fellow sovereigns (but how…), and tossed a rite of greeting that hadn’t been there in his preceding bellows, especially to the unknown flier. “Deimos, Lord of the Basin – I had arrived here previously to engage in discussion about renewing alliances between your herd and ours.” But was all that possibility gone now, with new layers, new forces, new beings breathing life upon their thrones? Was it one more barrier, one more obstacle, he would need to forge against? How much success would be comprised of his journey here, into the unknown, into the uncertain? His stare chiseled, firm and intent upon both figures, voice echoed, deep, resolute, and determined, despite the foreign entities strung about his head – he was heathen, infidel, and demon, and he wouldn’t dare leave this trial without some attempt. He forced himself back into discourse, away from shambles, away from shadows, for his herd, for his empire, for the chance at strength without something else clawing, draining, swallowing them from the sidelines. “We had formed an alliance with your prior rulers, and hoped to continue. We would like to proceed in trading crafting materials, herbs, and other matters.”

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


@Tembovu
@Elsa

Tembovu the Elephant Posts: 805
World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT
Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen smitty
#5
Black-dotted ears tilt backwards as the Lord of the Basin refers to him as such— after Tembovu had just just unceremoniously called Deimos by his name. The smallest pursing of lips and crinkling of eyes betrays his internal annoyance at his mistake— he is so new to being King. Though he does not get a chance to rectify his error as Elsa, in all her wintry coldness, appears with a smirk of forced humor accompanying joking words, which fall oddly flat to his ears. Though he still turns up the corners of his muzzle, dipping his head low in greeting to the Icebound. Despite her coolness, there is still a beauty that accompanies her winter. A smile was flashed to Edgar at the peeped hello.

He returns his attention the the dark Lord, ears tilting back forward to hear his explanation. Perhaps he saw a glimmer of curiosity at speaking to himself and Elsa, rather than Torleik and Mauja— but he dismisses it. It was apparent that Deimos and Mauja were friendly, when they had last met. An explanation is not owed by the Elephant, but perhaps could be given by the spotted.

Unease takes deeper breaths within him, as the explanation of the old King’s agreements makes the Reaper’s reappearance clearer. He shifts slightly, thoughts mulling long after the words had stopped. What he knew of the Basin, he did not like. But there was still did not know. And Mauja, whose judgement and leadership he had greatly respected, had seemed willing to form an alliance… And Deimos had said he wanted to ‘renew and alliance,’ so there must have been one in place before.

In a land where he was so new, he felt that he must rely on the precedents set by others. Though he was uneasy to do so (it was not his way to make choices of consequence without fully understanding the ramifications), he slowly nodded his great head at the Lord. “I can agree to renewing an alliance of trade. Though you will have to enlighten me as to the points of the past agreement,” his low voice rolled formally, firmly. He paused eyes glancing once towards his Queen, who was the battle-bent lead, before continuing, “And for the ‘other matters,’ I would agree to have the Edge aid the Basin in times of need, if the gesture is reciprocated.”
Tembovu
The Elephant King
image | code by Avis


@Deimos @Elsa

Please tag Tembovu.

Elsa the Icebound Posts: 644
World's Edge Protector atk: 6 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2 Hands :: Six (Frostfall) HP: 73 | Buff: BULK
Edgar :: Plain Zephyr :: Arctic & Wakiya Klare
#6
Elsa
Alliances. The very word made her stomach turn inside out. A burning welled deep within her stomach as she forced her face not to crack. Edgar kept his happy little merry self together, trying to make up for his bonded's silence. Elsa listened on deaf ears, plastic smile in tow as Deimos and Tembovu conversed. It was brief, but when Elsa caught the back end of Tembovu's words, her ears swiveled toward him. Slowly her face followed after as she looked between the two leads.

She was hardly ready for offering her help. She needed to define this more- because there was no way in hell that she would aid them in an attack. A defense would be aided, but any attack they brought up themselves would be on their own shoulders, not the Edge's. "We would be more than glad to aid you in case of an invasion." She added coolly. "Of course, if you are interested in such things. Though since we are new to the lead scene, I would also appreciate if you outline the specifics that you would like. From there we can agree or change things to fit our wants." She fell silent then, awaiting for what the Lord of the Basin had to say. Edgar cooed softly in her head, trying to calm his bonded down. There were many a word she wanted to add, but all that would do was sour any chance at a quiet life. And the last thing she wanted right now was to incite another war. As of right now, the Edge's back was against the wall, and they couldn't afford to have feelings or grudges. For now, they were plastered smiles and flying under the radar.


"Morbi vestibulum mollis nibh a varius."
________________________________________
sometimes we expect too much of ourselves,
afterall, we are only mortal.
The Icebound
/ image
  • Any force can be used against Elsa.
  • Please tag any posts that involves Elsa.

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
#7
  Maybe they thought he meant condemnation, danger, and treachery. Perhaps they perceived him as naught more than a minstrel of doom and decadence, one more straining against infernal existences, a wandering wraith, a blade of annihilation and furor – and they’d be correct, astute in such a regard – but he meant no peril, no friction, no fury on their pelts or entities. He was here, back in the confines of a haunted world, of a sea he could hear in his sleep, in his dreams, simply for his herd and no one else; to ensure their safety, to snap and clench and grasp a value of sanctity. The Reaper was only one beast in a world of thousands. All of them had their own desires, their own ambitions, their own yearnings and longings and deep, dark, chiseled hankerings for coveted pieces, but all he wanted was for his empire to be secured, protected, from the other humming behemoths, from the other avaricious infidels. How was he to know if there was another Confutatis waiting in the wings? How was he to defend them all if another Empire lurked amongst the mountains, peaks and valleys? How could he alone twist and destroy and condemn? (By God, he’d try. He’d die trying – but if he was gone, if he was perished and fallen and decrepit on the cold, hard ground, who else would take the plunge into an enemy’s heart? Who else would stand before the Basin, wretched and vibrant with disdain, eager and fervent and ferocious, menacing and consuming?)
 
They wanted more. More information, more facts, more figures, and he understood their concerns – the Basin held a loathing, pungent reputation (and he cherished it, truly, for the wild, untamed, savage things they all were, because devilish croons carved them vicious, made them seem immoral, unattainable, high in their frozen chambers, scathing and recoiling, mutinous and seditious – but it hadn’t stopped everyone, and that’s why he was here). He could see the questions on their faces, he could note the indignation in their voices, he could register the bits and pieces causing them wariness. Had the Forsaken had issues contemplating alliances? Or had she come about it easily, stringing everyone along with capricious hopes and answers?
 
He’d give them blunt, bare honesty – keen notations, rapier dictations – because he was a man of candid, direct, forthright notions. They deserved more than a scathing sibilance or his brutal armaments. The winter King’s eyes glanced from one to the other, still cold, still nonchalant, but his mouth parted, building a gap between the days of old and the wiles of renewal. “We had a similar alliance with your predecessors. We aimed to trade herbs, information on shared enemies, craftsmanship, and defense of one another’s herds.” Oh, and they had – marched upon the Hidden Falls’ grounds, masked in deception, in terror, in horror, grasping for bloodshed when the order, when the plots, when the plans had dictated. “We were called upon for assistance in invading the Hidden Falls after the leaders no longer wished to live in the Moon Goddess’ land.” The explanation cycled, curled, coiled, knotted and gnarled, and he nearly snorted at the abyss, at the way the earth shifted in such strange, spellbinding ways – pondering over how a powerful being such as Gaucho had ever come to be possessed, wondering if he ever thought of defying the Gods over and over and over again, beating them down like they had in those other worlds. “It was a success – and new leads were administered to the Edge. Mauja was one of them.” He ceased then, never pressing his stare elsewhere, remaining firm, fixated, and riveted upon them. “Are these terms sufficient?”

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


@Tembovu 
@Elsa

Tembovu the Elephant Posts: 805
World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT
Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen smitty
#8
His ears and attention flicked towards the Icebound at her words, twitching once as she turned the phrase, ‘to fit our wants.’ It was not a phrase he, the diplomatic-bent lead would have used. Though they both had their strengths and weaknesses— she was a formidable foe on the battlefield whilst he could turn smiles and form phrases that seemed to please most.

But he would not be turning a smile on the Reaper’s face, today. His was a cold, nonchalant gaze, determined on creating alliance. It shifted between the Edge’s monarchs as his blunt words answered both the King’s and Queen’s questions. The Elephant noted, and appreciated, the straightforward honesty with which the Basin Lord spoke. It was a refreshing change from his political tangos in Dorobo, with two-faced men and three-meaning words. So, despite the ominous and dangerous aura exuded from the dark grey, the giant found himself enjoying the political transaction with the man.

His great head nodded once, in understanding, as Deimos further illuminated more history of the Edge to him. He had not known so much about the invasion, and found such explanations quite informative. Though his mind had picked out the phrase “shared enemies”, rolling around the word as he wondering who might be an enemy of both the Edge and the Basin.

He also mulled the idea of craftsmanship, wondering just what the Basin crafted— how ignorant the great Elephant was! But that would be a question for a later time, perhaps of his lovely, forcibly smiling Queen. More important questions were at hand, “Does the Basin have any enemies, currently?” For the giant should know whom he was agreeing to have his Edge spy upon or fight, should the need arise.

He then nodded, “The terms are sufficient. The Edge agrees to an alliance. Tell us if there is a particular needed item you or the Basin desires, Lord Deimos, and I will see if our Glaziers can create it.” He had addressed the Lord by his title and switched to the imperial ‘we.’ Satisfaction bloomed in his barrel as he awaited if his Queen had anything to add.
Tembovu
The Elephant King
image | code by Avis


@Elsa I think this is almost finished! :D Maybe 1 more round to answer questions, and then there's a (perhaps tenuous) Edge/Basin alliance!

Please tag Tembovu.

Elsa the Icebound Posts: 644
World's Edge Protector atk: 6 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2 Hands :: Six (Frostfall) HP: 73 | Buff: BULK
Edgar :: Plain Zephyr :: Arctic & Wakiya Klare
#9
Elsa
It was so naive of her to think she would get through this meeting unscathed. At the very mention of the Falls her jaw clenched. Every muscle in her body felt like a spring ready to burst. They would not – she would not – help. If they felt the need to ruin the livelihood of another herd they would have to do it by themselves. Tembovu would have to pry her title from her cold, dead body before she would be at their call. Sure, she would help defend their home, but she would not be aid to the destruction of families. She knew that pain firsthand, and apparently, this was one of the spearheads. It was hard not to scream at him, and she had to bite back the slurs of words that tingled at the end of her tongue.

Yet all the while, she held that nice plastic beautiful smile. Edgar also managed to keep his cool, sitting poised upon her poll. For right now, all would be okay. She just had to smile, agree, and let Tembovu be the lead. She was not the saintly patron leader, she was the bloody one lurking in the shadows only to be seen and heard in a time of crisis. Other than that her job was to be a sideline. It was obvious now why the goddess had chosen her to do such work- she was already a shadow, it would be easier to guide her further into the dark. "Sounds like a fine deal to me- maybe even our warriors would benefit from sparring with each other." There, perky friendly, and overshadowing everything that she actually felt.



"Morbi vestibulum mollis nibh a varius."
________________________________________
sometimes we expect too much of ourselves,
afterall, we are only mortal.
The Icebound
/ image
  • Any force can be used against Elsa.
  • Please tag any posts that involves Elsa.

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
#10
  Success crooned in his skull; a keen, blunt tone of triumph and conquest. He’d completed his goal – it resounded in his head, it thrummed in his blood, it hummed in his soul (somehow, someway, he’d managed to do something beneficial for his empire, and no blood had been shed). The Reaper had funneled past his flaws, his defects, his weaknesses, and channeled them into imperious recherché, into ravenous reticence, and into coalitions. He remained the stoic, stalwart sentinel, a piece of marble, a shard of porcelain, a statue of death and damnation, listening to the responses, to the replies, and trying very hard not to chisel a thin smile through his lips. Instead, the demon christened an amiable nod, an agreeable torrent of movement and motion, driving past all the onslaughts, all the haunting, poignant, dissonant airs, to reclaim a contorting, powerful emblem of his own creation, of his own enigmatic, feral soul. “You have the Basin’s allegiance.”
 
Meticulous predilection gleamed in his nefarious, cold-blooded heart, and a brutal shade of scrutiny, study, examination bloomed along his heretical stare, but he said naught more on the common sways of unholy regard, of the power looming in his bludgeoned derision, scaling past the remorseless, the predacious, the infinite decadence of his lack of diplomacy – reaching past all the snares, all the traps, all the lairs, to answer the giant’s inquiry. “We have a single pest.” Some Pegasus attempting to snag and poke and prod where he didn’t belong, some wayfaring infidel who thought he possess guile and intellect, some flying beast who’d eventually be felled by the wrath of those carved from mountains and ice. “A Pegasus – gray and white. He enjoys thievery.” But he would have his due in the same way all the Basin enemies did: with chilling, noxious blood, spilled across parlors and floors and trappings and tethers, solidified in annihilation and savagery. The inept fool would be locked away eventually, rotting and withering, never to be seen again. “Does the Edge have any adversaries?” He asked without sinuous, unwinding, ravenous coils, but the dagger, the sword, the cutlass was there, a rapier gathered in the midst and moors. The offer, the bestowal, rested on the table, eager and ardent, a malicious, vibrant heathen – constantly scorned, constantly damned, but constantly willing for brutality, for domination, for writhing, wrathful inclinations.
 
The winter Lord’s brows arched at Elsa’s response, and then there seemed to be nothing more – acceptance through days and seasons and eons of war – carried on the back of matching crusades and horrendous campaigns. Contemplation awakened in his brow at the rest of Tembovu’s speech, because here he thought he might be able to advance the Crafters and Menders’ ambitions. “Our healers intend to build a greenhouse, and will require glass for the project. Perhaps our Weavers could create something for you in turn.” What the Edge needed, wanted, craved, or yearned, was beyond his sentiments.



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


@Tembovu
@Elsa

Tembovu the Elephant Posts: 805
World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT
Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen smitty
#11
“You have the Basin’s allegiance.” There was something chilling about those words— perhaps it was the feral blaze in the Reaper’s eyes or the chill that gathered around his black muzzle as he said them. Regardless, the alliance was finalized, was real. A duty performed, a good deed for the Edge. He nodded his great head, thick horn slicing through the misty air. Eyes looked for Elsa’s, briefly wondering what was beneath the perky and friendly words. Never had he heard such cheery liveliness from her, though he shoved his suspicion aside. Had he not also been uneasy and suspicious of the Basin?

Ah, the Basin did have an enemy— or more of an annoyance, it seemed. A low chuckle rumbled from his chest at Deimos’s description of the pegasus in question. “We’ll keep an eye out for him, then,” his reverberating words were colored with amusement before answering the Basin’s Lord’s question, “And no, the Edge has none as of yet.” He studied the dark face, eyes glancing up the extended length of Deimos’s horn, coming to rest at its blue tip. “Though we will be sure to send word if that changes,” he nearly shivered at the perceived eagerness with which Deimos had asked the question. And he nearly felt remiss for not being able to offer a target for that impressively sharp horn.

And then the Elephant received a two-fold answer to his question. Weavers. They must create cloth of some kind in the Basin. And greenhouse in the Basin? He supposed that the cold mountains’ earth were not hospitable to herbs (though this was an assumption, as he had never actually been to the Basin). Hadn’t he seen the grown-over glass remains of something that resembled a greenhouse in the Edge…? He shoved the thoughts aside, once again opening his mouth to answer his brother in reign, “I can agree to that. Your Weavers and our Glaziers should meet and discuss their needs,” he nodded his head in both agreement and closure of their meeting. “I believe we’ve finished our business,” he said the statement as part question, leaving room for others to interject anything more. “The pleasure was ours, Deimos. Safe travels back to the Basin,” he wasn’t sure that the Lead needed or wanted ‘safe’ travels, but the Elephant King was accustomed to turning the phrase.
Tembovu
The Elephant King
image | code by Avis


@Elsa

Please tag Tembovu.

Elsa the Icebound Posts: 644
World's Edge Protector atk: 6 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.2 Hands :: Six (Frostfall) HP: 73 | Buff: BULK
Edgar :: Plain Zephyr :: Arctic & Wakiya Klare
#12
Elsa
The longer she stood here the more uncomfortable she was becoming. It felt like every breath she took was life or death, and if she even managed to exhale incorrectly, she’d be wandering without another eye. So her head drifted away from her body, and Tembovu took over doing what he does best- be the diplomat.

Words were exchanged regarding enemies, and she was unsurprised to find that they had one. A Pegasus of course, it seemed they had the worst encounters with the north. If there was one thing about the Edge that was good- it was that no one saw them as a threat. They fell under the radar, quiet but at the same time everywhere. The herd numbers were booming, and they were silently becoming a force to be reckoned with.

As quickly as the conversation came, it went, and they moved onto crafting. Once upon a time Elsa would have been all over this conversation. She fondly recalls the days in the Falls when things were simple and nice. The most she had to worry about was the Addict, and now that he was gone, it was like everything fell apart. Apparently her only problem was also her undoing. Somewhere in the faux happy days she caught that they were wanting a greenhouse, and that they would be willing to trade their weaves services. Her ears perked at that, sliding ever so slightly toward the northern Lord. She needed to speak to Tembovu about this later. Cloth was a rare thing around here- especially when the other herd choices were metal, stone and glass. And with all the glass that would take… there was a potentially to gain some very useful items from this. 

When Tembovu gave his cordial goodbyes, Elsa too nodded her head lightly. ”Godspeed.” She said quietly. It wasn’t a safe word, but it was still positive. But beneath it all, she sincerely hoped that if they did wrong to another innocent life, that they paid for it dearly. Turning, she moved away from the conversation towards the woods. Away from Tembovu, away from Deimos, walking away had become her safety net. It was the one thing that kept her within the comfortable confines of her box.


"Morbi vestibulum mollis nibh a varius."
________________________________________
sometimes we expect too much of ourselves,
afterall, we are only mortal.
The Icebound
/ image
  • Any force can be used against Elsa.
  • Please tag any posts that involves Elsa.


Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture