"Where brilliance is good and madness is better..."
Helovia Info
Helovia opened in February 2012! We are an active fantasy equine RPG
Where once the world narrowed into naught but gray dust and desolation, the gods called for life. Wielding the elements of fire and light, dark and wind, earth and water, spark and time, they have created Helovia. The realm is set within the mythical globe of Loorien, a planet rich with all variety of creatures and blessed with all manner of magic. Originally populated by nomadic, tribal characters, they've since grown into massive empires saturated with culture and history. Separated into four distinct segments of Helovia, called "The Regions," each band of horse strong enough and capable enough, took up the power and responsibility of leadership. Unicorns, old, wise and mysterious, took to the north, hidden in forests of mists and shadows and rarely making themselves known beyond their cliffs of the World's Edge. Equines, vast, organized and militaristic, split into two, one group went north to the Windtossed Foothills and the other group went south to the Dragon's Throat. Pegasus remained nomadic, making their homes in various parts of The Wilds in a migratory manner. For many generations, the land was peaceful and calm, but peace was never the way of the gods. With a clash of argument, war and bloodshed massacred Helovia, and in the aftermath, the realm was eerily quiet. Now, as newcomers sweep into this land, they are met with the lingering bitterness of the gods and the struggle to reclaim what was lost. Nothing remains safe or certain while sorcerers and soldiers alike brood and bide their time for revenge, honor and glory.
Site Wide Plots
Kaos :: The Beginning of the End ☼ - 6/2017 - Kaos placed Helovia in a time-bubble for a short period of time, but the Helovian gods are fighting back. But Kaos is powerful- far more powerful than anyone thought. This may be the beginning of the end of Helovia as we know it.
Kisamoa :: A New Kind of Kaos ☼ - 3/2017 - Kisamoa asks Helovians to help him restore the Spectral Marsh. Which side will you choose?
Invasions :: All Out War ☼ - 5/2/16 - New layout and the brand new invasion rules are up! Thank you for your patience and we look forward to getting started with this new adventure.
The Rift :: Gods Do Die ☼ - 8/2015 - Helovia Gods are saving the Rift from corrupt gods! Can Helovians band together against these foreign deities?
The Literal Ship ☼ - 2/8/15 - Oh no! You have to pair up for Valentine's day!
Sky Island :: Murder ☼ - 10/25/14 - Vesta has been found dead on the island, and the gods have called to you to solve the murder!
Sky Island :: Peace ☼ - 7/7/14 - An island has appeared in the sky! Clouds carry Helovians from the Veins to the sky.
Restoration :: We Welcome the Dawn ☼ - 9/21/13 - The sun has finally risen on this day, giving the land new light, but the Time God and the Sun God have yet to be seen.
Endless Night :: Broken Magic Plot ☼ - 8/30/13 - The earth god has returned and is walking across Helovia to heal the land. Every area can now be considered lush and prosperous, but the sun has still not risen.
☼ - 7/19/13 - The moon has risen in the sky, heralding the return of the Goddess of the moon. Lamp trees which light the paths have grown brighter, moon flowers which grow in dark places have begun to grow and prosper and the world is brighter, filled with a new hope.
Endless Night :: Dead Magic Plot ☼ - 6/22/13 - The gods of Helovia, in order to protect the world, have disappeared into the rift, leaving the world sunless, moonless and magic-less in their absence. Only the herdlands have a source of light, but lamp-trees with glowing leaves and branches sporadically line the popular roads and paths from place to place.
Doppleganger Plot ☼ - 6/20/13 - The God of Time is still struggling to close the rift though which the dopplegangers have come. He has requested that his brothers and sister assist in closing this hole, but without knowing why it opened, the task is proving difficult. Magic still remains faulty and hard to control, but the herdlands continue to be places of refuge for those who are fortunate enough to call these lands home.
ORANGEMOON cools off the lands with a a viscious force. Colder than normal, a sign of things to come during Frostfall, Helovia is bathed in a rich tropical lushness - albiet a cold one. The coastlines of the Dragon's Throat are pelted constantly by tidal waves, and the desert climate is humid but chilly. Ice begins to form early in the Aurora Basin leaving the winding trails slick and dangerous. The mists of the World's Edge coat everything in a glistening crystalline shine which encourages mould to grow everywhere. The Spectral Marsh is the only area which remains fertile, blissfully temperature and lush.
Cotm
Character of the Month for
June, 2017
WEAVER, Corporal of the Aurora Basin, is a relatively recent addition to Helovia and has taken it by storm. Branded with the seal of Death on her chest, intrigue and interest follow both her past and present. Though she is assuredly beautiful, her sometimes sharp personality reveals that there is more to this uni-peg hybrid than meets the eye. Proving herself able on the battlefield in the Basin’s warrior ranks, we can’t wait to see her test her mettle against the looming Kaos happenings! Congratulations!
Helovia RPG was created by Tamme and Blu and coded by Tamme also known as Schwartze. All coding, palettes and imagery are copyrighted to the website and are not for use outside of Helovia. Thank you to our ServerMaster for hosting Helovia. A special thanks goes to Neo for all of her coding help and fixing Tamme's errors, Boom, for her loyal service and creation of the Time God, and to Ali for her consistent contributions and dedication.
05-02-2016, 07:05 PM (This post was last modified: 05-02-2016, 07:26 PM by Ki'irha.)
The starlit girl moved swiftly across the permafrost. Cold still lingered within the Aurora Basin, but Birdsong had finally arrived, and with it, more pleasant weather to reward the unicorns for their perseverance through the bitter Frostfall season. She welcomed the breeze that caressed her, warmed by the sun that was reaching its peak in the perfect blue sky. It was a beautiful day, and hopefully all of her warriors would be around to meet and discuss necessary changes under her new leadership.
Much had changed since the disappearance of d'Artagnan. Many had come and gone, and the new general was unsure of who even served to protect the herd. She reflected on her own changes- the magic that coursed through her veins, her increased skills, the children who currently frolicked under the sweet care of the local candy man - and wondered how the soldiers had grown on their own. Despite any flourishing they had done, she needed them to come together and strengthen as a group, so there would be no issues should they need to work as a unit against impending threats.
The last time she and Sialia had attempted to gather the ranks together, only the haruspex had attended. Any who did not appear to this meeting would deal with appropriate punishment, and she hoped her new title at least garnered the most minimal amount of respect for her word. On the other side of the coin, those who arrived had the chance to be awarded. Within the white curls of her mane, a daring sparkle emerged every few steps, peeking through strands as she trotted along.
She came to a stop upon a grassy flat. It was nowhere special, a quiet area towards the northern corner of the herdland. "Comrades," she called, the voice of a leader carrying strong and far to seek the ears of those who she needed. "It is time to gather. There is much to discuss."
She stood patiently as she waited for others to arrive, the place beside her reserved for the corporal, should she arrive. A smile warmed her expression as she began to address them. "Thank you for meeting with me today. I must say, it is a both and honor and a privilege to stand before you as your general. It has been too long since we last gathered, and there is plenty of work to be done.
"First, as I'm sure it is easy to see, our numbers are dwindling. I encourage all of you to take a trip to the threshold and attempt to bring newcomers back to our valley, and from there I'm sure we can do some convincing to have them join our ranks." It was often the blue girl visited the great woods that newcomers and returning vagabonds alike wandered into. But she had been busy, occupied by the new responsibilities of her title, as well as two rambunctious children who consumed any time she had remaining. Continuing, she allowed the conversation to move towards a more important topic. While they certainly could fluff their numbers with newcomers, it would be even more appropriate to strengthen what already existed. "While our weakness may come in the small number of soldiers we have, it would be in our best interest to do all we can to strengthen and train ourselves. Peace has settled over Helovia, it would seem, and new alliances have been made. Despite the calmness, you are all aware, I am sure, that peace is not a constant guarantee, and the longer peacetime lasts, the more strained it becomes. We should prepare for the worst, and be ready to protect those that live within our home who cannot fight for themselves."
The star girl tried desperately to keep her expression comfortable and relaxed, but within she felt a pang of uneasiness. Was she doing this right? Hopefully she would be successful in rallying the troops, and if she wasn't? If they fell to pieces under her lead? She would need to retreat to the farther corner of the darkest cave to live out the next year in embarrassment. Looking back out over the group, she noticed some who she knew did not belong to her ranks, and pride blossomed that they had made a point to attend despite that. Maybe she could someday live up to the standard of those before her. "Now, before we discuss seasonal spars and patrols, I extend to all of you a chance to speak out with any concerns or questions. I will answer them all the best I can."
With that, she opened the floor, hoping this meeting would be more productive than the last. Besides, she had exciting things to get to, and the small prize hanging within her mane felt heavy paired to the anticipation she felt to add a little competition to these normally dry meetings.
________________
OOC//This is a mandatory fortify meeting! All AB fortify members are mandated to attend unless you are on absence, and that is addressed below. I also urge others to attend, whether unranked or under a different rank, who wish to participate in spars and patrols. ( You know you want to get rid of that "Novice" buff, regardless of rank and position!!) If you wish to be changed to soldier from unranked/different rank, simply state your intent and we can get it changed. Also, to anyone who attends this meeting, you will be eligible to win a prize based on the competition! The details of the competition will be posted in the next round. **To be eligible for the contest, you MUST post your non-fortify characters here before the end of the first round.** This round ends in 1 week, so you must post by the end of the day on May 9th. @Erebos@Caleb ~
MEMBERS ON ABSENT: @Kalona@Sialia As you two are on absent, your characters can post here late if you return prior to the completion of the thread. If you miss the thread entirely, please seek out Ki'irha at some point prior to the end of Birdsong so you can be assigned necessary tasks. You are both encouraged to take part in the competition upon your return! And Nickel, as soon as Kalona meets with Ki'irha officially, I will have his title changed to soldier.
It wasn’t often that he adhered to someone else’s bidding or call. His sire and friends were one thing, but others quite another. The fiend was accustomed to doing things at his own pace, whether leisurely, swiftly, or somewhere in the middle. He wandered, he ventured, he crusaded when he felt ready, comfortable, or particularly fervent. Erebos maneuvered for his own means, motioned for his own reasons, methods, plots, ruses, and campaigns – but remembered the grounds of the Basin, like a good little soldier, forging onward while all his blackguard plans ricocheted, bounded, through his mind. The boy was not disloyal, faithless, or fickle; he simply had his own scores to settle, and he didn’t know which should be measured, calculated, and destroyed first.
Orsino cackled alongside him as they bridged over ice and caverns, hissing about meetings and the latest, disastrous one. Erebos had attempted to be a calming, princely, noble voice while the rest of their world crackled around them. But he’d bend, he’d meander, he’d bow his head to the General (the starred one, he remembered, rising from Corporal status, the one who’d tried to trick and deceive him while she lingered in pain, nearly on the ground from the strikes and blows he’d given her), like an esteemed, respectable scion. He’d play one of his many parts. He’d become stronger for the herd, for himself, and for the demons he wanted to vanquish. He’d conquer foes, he’d unravel contempt, he’d consume, devour, those who wished his brethren, his companions, and his kin harm. He’d prosper and damn all for the sake of snow and mountains, brethren and dissolution.
The growing beast followed the call, winding his way towards the flat, grassy terrain, where Birdsong peeked within the wintery threshold. At his approach, he lowered his head in a gesture of esteem, while Orsino bristled against him in his mind (why bow to someone you’ve already defeated? the fox asked, to which Erebos gave no answer). The boy then dragged his crown upward, filled his features with easygoing platitudes, with devilish regard, with cheeky grins and charismatic regard; all the world his stage. “General Ki’irha.”
Then he listened, listened, and listened as she proclaimed of more work to be done, of dwindling numbers, of strengthening and training themselves. He didn’t tell her of the success he’d gathered (because somewhere else there had been losses, stinging and brutal), of the magic he harbored (desecration and ruin, corruption and deceit, embers and coils and water kneeling at his feet), the disasters he’d come across, or the monsters he intended to maim. They were his problems, trials, tribulations, and eventually, his triumph. So instead of laying out his secrets, his serpentine, surreptitious wiles, he merely fell into the restless void, waiting for someone else to bring their voice to light.
Erebos
i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want
The break of Birdsong brings new life to the Aurora Basin. Sunlight shines unobstructed on the valley at last, thawing the ground and inspiring lime colored shoots of infant growth to thrust themselves upward. Birds and peeper frogs and other small things take up their songs for the first time in months, and suddenly every rank leader in the herd is inexplicably compelled to hold a meeting, their commanding voices booming out over the softer melodies of spring.
Today it’s the starry-coated General bellowing at full volume for her soldiers and though there’s no expectation of his attending, the old black raises his head at the sound, curious. He wonders how Ki’irha is handling her recent promotion and whether she’ll be capable of running the warriors meeting with more sense and professionalism than the golden Thief had seen fit to run hers. His time on the steppe has cooled his anger since storming out of leaving the sneak meeting, but without its heat he now feels hollow, spent. There’s no ire in him today to quarrel with the General or her lackeys, but still, his curiosity is a convincing force and it is his job to gather information. Even if he denies the leadership of his trade he can’t deny the necessity of remaining useful in the Reaper's eyes, whose murderous gaze softens so approvingly on the warriors of his herd.
With a sigh and one last grab at the newly sprouting grass he sets off creaking and popping and clicking toward the gathering, mumbling irritably about arthritis under his breath. He fully expects the Generals dogs of war to have fallen over themselves in their rush to heed her call, so it's with genuine surprise that he finds her standing so nearly alone, joined only by the Reaper's son. He stops a conservative distance away from the pair, indicating his non-involvement in proceedings, but the question in his furrowed brows and tilted ears is obvious: Where are your 'proud ranks' now?
He wants to feel smug about the low attendance, hold it against the mare as proof of her ineptitude, but the sentiment is stunted by unease. A lack of military might means vulnerability - for everyone in the herd. They might as well be packaged and gift wrapped, silver bow and all, for whatever slack jawed bully walks in next and who better to toss on the sacrificial altar first than their least favored resident?
Your universe has jumped the tracks; it spins off kilter now, probably about to smash itself into a thousand pieces. Everything holding it together is gone (everything?). Well, Vesper's here. Vesper was here. You don't know if Vesper's here anymore, because here has changed since your mother had the nerve to abandon you to a tiny, minty-smelling goblin that would just as soon have bored you to death as let you starve. Brave and stoic as you are, you definitely tried to bear that purgatory, but with no end in sight after about five minutes, you quickly began plotting your escape.
And that's why you're here now.
You hope your sister followed you, but afraid to look back and find your erstwhile babysitter hot on your tail, you leave your feelings at that. Mama's the bigger loss, after all. Vesper would never betray you so thoroughly as to run off with a shoddy replacement left behind, absolutely the wrong size and the wrong color and smelling all wrong... But enough of that. Bravely you forge on, skittering from one bit of cover to the next, from behind a small hill to behind a scrubby bush to behind a rock shaped like a seagull. You pause every now and then like the excellent tactician you're surely becoming, ears rotating as they scan the area for any sign of friend or foe. And after a bit, your efforts are rewarded:
"Comrades,"
Mama's voice! Instantly you're alert; every stringy muscle in your black glass and charred porcelain body is electric. The thrill of victory sings so sweetly in your veins you forget - just for an instant - how you ought to be sneaking and you leap up, your wings fluttering, lips smacking in what looks like a silent call of acknowledgement. You've yet to actually utter a sound, though; you must be saving your words for something really special. Anyway, you forget to check over your shoulder for the babysitter, just in case, because you've already forgotten him and anyway he's probably long gone, asleep or busy enticing innocent strangers to lick him, or something. Fluttery and exuberant, you bound across the distance as fast as the stilts you call legs will carry you.
It's only when you get close that you notice — all of them.
I mean, it's not a lot but.... It's a lot of strangers. Maybe you don't want to be here, after all. Maybe... your bounding fades to hopping fades to oh shit and the wide-eyed expression you use to communicate this phrase, which you won't start using verbally for a while yet. Eventually your heart kicks into gear, your head kicks into gear, and you scurry over to the nearest cover, hunching your narrow body to make it as small it can get. Still bug-eyed, you peek over the top of the lichen-headed boulder at rest of the warriors (big).
Virga
silver horses chased down moonbeams in your dark eyes
Cold, murky precision cut through his undulating coils of muscle and sinew, of predator and prowess, of danger and disaster, as he stalked through the hills and valleys of his empire. He wanted nothing more than to settle amidst its threads and bury his weary head in its soil, tug the icy roots and tendrils from his blood, from his veins, from his movements and motions so he could be freed of all the endless frustrations binding his Machiavellian mind – but they never ceased. Like a growing, gnawing, endless ache, the perilous thoughts wrapped their way around his skull, so all he remembered were the barbaric notions of the meeting, the eternal damnation of his flaws, the defects of his throne, and the reality that no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he tried to overcome his nature, it still toppled over their chilling pinnacles. He was as mountainous as the peaks themselves – illustrious, chilling, and immovable, pressing harder against the slate of everything threatening to fall apart. He ground his way through their rime, through their glaciers, in hopes of providing protection, power, and might; but when it came down to it, all he had to show were disappointed faces and keen, blunt words.
He, like so many others before him, had seemingly amounted to nothing. Nothing at all.
While the Reaper’s sire had spoken to him, had told him of great Kings and how they could become greater (love from their people, love for their people), Deimos’ actions seemed to prove otherwise. As he fought for them, as he plotted for them, as he bore wounds, lacerations, curses, and invocations for them, they festered and brooded, rotted and seethed, unsatisfied, yearning, thirsting, hungering for something else. He bestowed alliances and they shrieked about dying Sentinels. He told of Gods granting them wolves and they screeched to each other, sounding like banshees, harpies, and hounds, squalling and squawking until his penetrating, piercing glare silenced them all.
He hadn’t inspired anything in them. They were unchanged – like rippling patterns in the sea, like the weeds prospering between rocks and stones. He’d seen them all before in different guises; and he was faltering, stumbling, bumbling his way through the crowd again.
The Lord stared at them across the way – initially intrigued because he’d been born a soldier, a warrior, a piece of armor and sword, and he’d likely die the same way, casting his body and soul for a herd who didn’t care, for a herd who’d sooner bury his bones in a dark corner and forget. But as the meeting trickled on, as the new General tried to glow in her stars and constellations, as his son met the call with bright eyes, everything else seemed amiss too; as if it was one more piece of his world falling apart. No one else came.
Save Albrecht (who he’d gladly use for target practice should the elder wish it), and one of Ki’irha’s children, winged and bumbling around, there was naught. No other warriors in sight. No one slashing against the horizon.
The sight caused rage to build, bristle, bleed along his chest, because they were supposed to be strong, they were supposed to be annihilating, bestial beasts who breathed calamity and chaos.
What were they now? Erebos and Ki’irha? Albrecht and a child? Is this who they were sending out to defend them every time there was an enemy? When there was a threat (and he’d throw himself in front of his son any day, to save him from persecution, from lacerations, from bitter, toxic wounds)? Was this a joke?
He didn’t laugh.
Instead, the great Lord presided closer and closer, until he advanced upon Albrecht, raised his maw to sneer in the other’s ear (because he hadn’t forgotten the ridiculousness of the meeting), lowering his decibels into a sinister bout of unholy, brutal terror – the varnish of what he could truly be, of what he could truly command - “Volunteering for service, Albrecht?” – before maneuvering elsewhere, standing near his son, brooding and irritated at the lack of anything and everything. The beast narrowed his eyes, staring over the emptiness, the vastness, the desolation, the mirror image of what everyone seemed to think the mountains were – hollow and frail. “It appears we have some work to do, General.”
I tried to sell my soul last night, it's funny he wouldn't even take a bite.
The going was slow. Aside from my own daughters slowness from some defect, I had slid and cut my leg in the spring mud. In a frustratingly slow manner I hobbled my way towards the meeting. There where some already gathered, one I was pleased to see was Erebos. He was the only one of our ranks to show his face. Disgust rolled through my stomach. How could we defend ourselves against anything if we had one soldier a corporal and a general. There was no excuses anymore.
Albrecht showed his ugly goat head as well. But at least he had showed. Even if he was not among those who defended this land with blood and hooves and teeth. Despite my growing dislike of the goat like unicorn I found respect to his dedication, and I nodded to him as I approached.
There was a child as well, one I did not know but I was pleased to see youth interested in the ways of the warrior. My eyes rested on the final creature. Deimos. My head raised slightly, and I tried harder to not limp on that painful right front. Nearing him I dipped my head low and then took my place beside Ki'irha. "Bathsheba, stay by my side." I whispered to my patchwork daughter, before I turned my attention to Ki'irha's final words. I had not caught all of it, but I had caught some. "If I might make a suggestion... I have been thinking an excellent exercise to bring our herd closer together would be to help our weavers on projects. It would build trust and strength that we desperately need, and maybe... Maybe riddle games with the sneaks to improve thought process?" My lips turn upwards in a smile. Yes I could make suggestions too. My eyes glance over the others, before returning to Ki'irha.
I am not pleased with this turnout either. It was shameful. A disgrace to the legacy that we had. What so you couldn't make an appearance for your general and corporal, but you would appear in front of your leaders? It was their duty and they shrugged it off. The smile was so hard to wear, with all the anger rolling through me.
"Speech here." Tag;; @Bathsheba Words;; Notes;; I'm so sorry that this post is shit. Dx I have literally 0 muse for her but I needed to make sure and post so <3
Also, while off doing soldiery things Sialia slid on some mud and cut her right front leg on a rock. Figured she hasn't had time to have it healed so that's why she is showing up all injured.
standing on my broken throne
crying out for what was done
Mother was terribly upset, even as she commanded closeness and stepped as near as she could. Bathsheba was curious, to be frank. They had left the safety of well-worn trails to travel into a long-winding ravine she did not recognize, somewhere new and bizarre. Tall trees with angry looking pines grew up from the ground, to her; they seemed as large as the sky, larger than life. Sheba trembled and rushed to keep up with her mother, a task that took longer than she was happy to admit. It was a constant presence in her life, this nameless ailment that attacked her legs, for that is what they thought. Her mother did what she could to keep Sheba comfortable and tried her best not to be disappointed, or so that is what the filly convinced herself. Here now it was no longer just she and mother, it was a small gathering of horses. Or so she assumed they were all horses, so many shapes and sizes imprinting into her brain, so many strange appendages and new designs. Who were they? What were they and why were they all converged in this clearing? Bathsheba tread close to her mother’s side as the black mare wound her way through the congregation; somehow her mother always seemed to command that kind of attention. It was a small note of pride that she fanned as often as it came around and Sheba ducked her head with a small smile. ‘if I might make a suggestion…’ mother began before branching off into things the girl-child did not understand, words that made no sense to the chugging imagination of her head. While it was aimed toward the strange, horned mare standing atop a stone overhang, Bathsheba allowed it to trail off into nothingness. Instead she glanced around, focusing on each of the animals present in the clearing. Some of them had more than one horn, some had wings, some had small creatures climbing and rifling about their spines. That is what truly caught the fillies attention, a small fluffy thing stuck rather firmly to a black stallions neck, it was something as she had never seen before and Sheba was enthralled. Until she saw him. A little horse, just like her, a foal. Only this foal had large, feathery wings resting softly at his side, a promise of size and a formidable future. Bathsheba wanted to go to him, to see him, to speak to him on a level she could cater to, but mother had been firm in her intentions. So she stayed put, opting to glance at him every chance she got, white eyes bright and curious. Perhaps if she stared long enough he would look her way?
05-28-2016, 10:54 PM (This post was last modified: 06-01-2016, 08:44 PM by Kalona.)
Springtime air had refreshed the stallion from the weary beast he had been when he emerged from the rifts to the soldier he was today. No longer did the cold air nip harshly at his poorly adapted coat but rather the suns rays made it appear to glow in the golden light. The meeting of the warriors was supposed to be a big gathering or so he had assumed but by the time he had managed to find the damn thing it was quite the sight all right. Instead of the mass of thick bodied warriors that he had expected here stood the mare he had met before, a youngster or two, their lord of the Basin and one other able bodied warrior.
Blue eyes glanced over the scene as he approached and all he could think about is what in the hell did he manage to get himself into? Surely a place that held so much power, or so it had seemed, would have more protection then this. Deciding that it was best to keep his smart commentary to himself he drew himself up in front of the General to hear what it was that she had to say.
As he listened his attention was vaguely drawn by the coppery scent of fresh blood that seemed to be from the black mare nearby. Scanning his eyes over her flesh gingerly they quickly narrowed in on the wound. Didn't they have healers for those sorts of things he wondered silently averting his gaze so not to seem to transfixed by anything in particular. Flicking an ear to the mention of a form of team building exercise or something along those lines he couldn't help but be a little wary. Great, this wasn't exactly what he had signed up for but he guessed that he could give it a go. For so long he had fought alone how exactly could he trust anyone here to watch his back? The General maybe but as for a foal he would think not.
•• TAGS: •• NOTES: So sorry for the late reply ••
“We who are immortal, we are chained to this life by a chain of gold, and we dare not sever it for fear of what lies beyond the drop.”
He stands watching, still removed from the heart of proceedings, as a few more bodies wander in. At first they’re all misfits like him, ineligible for a warrior position through age, though theirs is too young while his is too old, and then something else joins the party, something dark and oppressive and morbidly familiar.
He knows death. He knows how it whispers seductive promises of mercy, always pressing a comforting shoulder to his misery. I will warm you, it breathed when the cold sealed his eyes and splintered his flesh from the inside out. I will numb you, it promised when the clawing, desperate emptiness of his stomach ripped at his organs. It is only a moment, it soothed when the frenzy of terror took him in the sight and the smell of blood, in the unending squeals of agony. But I am forever, it challenged his fears. And I will never leave you, it assured when the gaping, dismantling loneliness of abandonment and damnation threatened to consume him.
Too many times his ears have tipped to the sweetened, sultry voice, a favorite plaything for the bored eternity. Always he shies away and always death laughs, hovering nearby with the surety of eventual victory. He knows that he won’t live forever, but he’ll live today, because whatever comes after can only be worse than the life that he lived in his youth. So he'll cling to the here and the now for as long as he can, and when his grip fails and he falls even lower he'll scrabble for a new hold, slowing the descent as best he can.
Wide eyed and quivering, he jerks away from the Reaper. "No." He rasps, breathless. The Lord of the Basin is only a man, but he carries the presence of that something else within him, making it cruel and unpredictable. The elder stumbles backward, fleeing. Let the warriors deal with warrior business. He's too shaken to even be angry - At least he bothered to show up, and when it wasn't even required of him - but the complaint lodges itself in the back of his mind for future annoyance, right next to the one for the laughable sneak meeting.
OOC // Was too distracted hear what anyone else said. Hastily leaves. @Deimos
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Playtime is Over (Mandatory Fortify Meeting)
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