the Rift


[OPEN] daddy issues, chapter one: satan's armpit

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow
#1

V O L T E R R A

He has never known heat like this. It is smothering, like walking into a furnace, into dragonfire, into hell. The black monolith sweats like he's never sweated before, his pelt soaked through and stuck flat to the hard muscles that ripple beneath his flesh. It's almost unbearable, and not for the first time, Volterra ponders the many pitfalls of bedding mares who live in such a damnably hot land. How can anybody live here? It is....well, it is like Satan's armpit.

The goliath stands on the edge of the world itself; he's been here before, years ago, when his mother was stolen by the Sultan of these lands (and twice since, but only briefly, to witness the births of Tyrath and Astarot via his dragons). The first memory makes his stern face darken and his ears bat angrily backwards - he feels filthy, entering this place beneath a white banner. What would the World Eater think, if she knew her youngest son was attempting to enter her would-be prison for any other reason but to tear it apart? He is quite sure he would feel the bite of her corrosion for his sins. But surely she would understand - he has to do this. Three of his children live here, and he is honour-bound to visit them. Of course, he would vastly prefer socialising with them in the northern snowy mountains, but alas, as their father it is up to him to show willing.

Even if that means possibly incurring his mother's wrath, should she ever return to Helovia.

The necklace slung around the muscular ridges of his neck jangles against his skin; it feels strange to be wearing the key of a land that he is not a part of. Vérzés delivered it to him from Sikeax, which is a remarkable act of trust from the mare that Volterra has always assumed does not particularly like him. Still, he does not intend to waste this trust, as he steps closer towards the edge of the world and peers out at the distant island. When the bridge appears, he's taken aback for a moment; above his head he hears a cacophony of draconic cries as his companions send him images of the great strip of land that suddenly connects them to the island. Slowly, and feeling strangely reluctant, the behemoth takes his first steps onto the bridge and towards the Throat itself.

It feels incredibly strange when he reaches the other side. Save for his brief forays into the Falls to Isopia's clearing, this is the first time he has properly entered a herd land. He can smell the reek of the herd's leading stallion, who he knows has a rather formidable reputation; nothing he couldn't handle, he's sure, but he does feel rather awkward simply turning up in here. Usually so assured, Volterra suddenly feels quite out of place; already he craves his freedom, craves the mainland, craves the cool bite of the north instead of this all-consuming southern heat. How can anybody call this place home?! Maybe he should just go, ask his dragons to pass the key back to Sikeax, and arrange to meet his children somewhere else...

No. These are the sort of sacrifices he needs to make. What's a couple of hours sweating his balls off as penance for emptying said balls into the womb of a Dragon's Throat mare? Besides, this is where half of his children live, and he feels like it will give him a unique chance to bond with them if he meets them here, in their domain. It passes the power to them, instead of him. They will show him around; they will be able to explain the many beautiful assets of their home, whilst he listens like an attentive student.

He looks around through narrowed eyes, his muscles tense as though expecting an attack at any moment. Now he's in, he isn't quite sure what to do - so he simply stands and huffs a beckons for his family, in the hope they'll take pity on him and come and find him.

image credits


I have permission from Odd for Vol to be here, and from Zuno for Vol to use Sikeax's key.

FORGIVE THE TITLE IT WAS NOVA'S FAULT

@Tyrath @Sikeax @Valdis

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]




Tyrath Posts: 61
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6
Stallion :: Tribrid :: 17.2 :: 2 [birdsong] HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Harcos :: Common Red Dragon :: Fire Breath Nova
#2
Tyrath



Scales gleamed in the Tallsun rays, the light casts off them like a thousand shimmering pieces of gold and precious metals, his breath his distorted, a rumbled roll of thundere deep in his gut as leathery wings keep him afloat in the sky. He reveled in the feel of how it rolled through and over his spinal crests, taloned feet instinctively clenched and released as he weaved through the sky on the lightest of tilts. He practiced when he could, shifting between one form and the next, perfecting it as he learned to control and dampen the pain. He finds it ironic, that the Dragon's Throat does not have it's namesake dwell within it's sun scorched lands, and that he is the closest thing that currently resides there. Perhaps it'll be he, who will bring the coveted winged creatures back to their rightful home. Perhaps he won't, but for now he enjoys being the only Dragon within this harsh terrain, content to whirl upon heated vents and scare unknowing herd members with a well placed shriek.

He heard it on the salt wind, the undeniable call that could only come from his father's throat. At first, confusion wracked through his brain, didn't Volterra hate the heat? Wasn't that why he remained in the deep forest and the fringes of the North? Wasn't that why he always flew north to see him, rather than the other way around. He paused, his tail gave a leisured stroke as his scaled head turned toward where the sound had carried. It had definitely been his father, it couldn't of been anyone else, and as he finally begins to fly closer, the familiar glint of red and gold confirms it.

At first he wondered how the behemoth had managed to get here, to swim across would be suicide, between the churning waters and the beasts which dwell within the deeper depths, only the foolish would dare. No, he had a key, he was sure of it. Which begged the question, if he had a key, who had he taken it from? It hadn't rolled into his mind just yet that Sikeax would of passed it to him, he'd been in the air since the first breath of sunlit had ghosted over his pale frame, there hadn't been time for his mother to mention or even hint.

Still, he was impressed, excited even, that at last Volterra had come onto their territory. He had stepped into lands not his own, familiar and foreign with a sovereign to guard and protect it. He's sure it's a strange feeling for the brute, for reasons known and unknown, and it's all appreciated by his tribrid son. He finally closed in, briefly he spared a thought to the last time Volterra had seen this form, when he was but a small babe who forced the change. He's grown, and so has this form, and how magnificent it looks! He's only spied it in the reflection of the water as he skimmed across the oasis, the impressive jagged horns which pepper his crown and frame his four impressive spires, to the spinal crests and deadly talons. When he's grown, this form will be formidable, worthy of a King. He made it a point to lazily circle the behemoth, close to the ground enough to scatter the sand to the wind, for his talons to dip into the red and white grains, and then in one powerful stroke up back into the skies to bring himself around once more. A draconic rumble rolled from his jagged maw in greeting to the Red and Gold before he landed, scaled feet sunk deep before he righted himself with a large stride forward, wings pulled against his sides.

"I see ma gave you a key." It felt weird, to talk and hear a voice that wasn't quite your own, feel jagged and long teeth as they scraped together on particular syllables. Heated crimson pits had spied the key on his neck, the familiar necklace finally clicked in his head. "How do you like the Throat?" Feels just like a Dragon's, doesn't it? He's piss poor at covering how amused he is, he saw the salted sweat which leaked from Volterra like a waterfall, coating him a darker shade of black. "You get used to it, after awhile."



"talk talk talk"




from the ashes of the sun I arise
a herald of ruin and damnation



Credits: Image by Anonymous2016


@Volterra @Sikeax @Valdis
[Image: tyrath_by_bronzehalo_d9yw5wg_by_arahvir-d9yx9ov.png]

Astarot Posts: 81
Dragon's Throat Sun Physician atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 2 (Birdsong) HP: 66.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zafír :: Common Blue Dragon :: Frost Breath Pare
#3


He had been slipping around Helovia looking for his mother, to no avail of course. Now he was home sulking in the farthest corners lost in thought. If his mother wasn't here, he would leave, find his father and live with him. He knew he needed an elder to keep him in line, to show him how to get stronger, but that might mean he had to leave his home. A disheartened sigh puffed from the colt as he stood staring out at the sea. He had lost everything, and had no idea why, there wasn't anyone left to ask. Tears sizzled painfully in his mismatched eyes. He was hopeless, alone in a sea of sand and faces.

The a sounds drew him from his misery, a distant call. 'Could it really be?' He was scared to hope, terrified it wouldn't be him and his heart would take another beating. Taking a deep breath the boy shoved his depressing thoughts back and pelted headlong for the sound he had heard. His heart hammered as his thick hooves pounded at the shifting sand. He was growing stronger and larger with ever day. Since he had started his trek through Helovia, his muscles had hardened past the norm for a foal his age. He was sure footed ready to take on anything from the sand he had been born on to the rocks of the north. The world was his to take, if only he had a parental figure to help guide him.

Sky blue and blood red eyes fell upon the black and white figure of his father. He slid to a halt hips rolling sand flying and he stood for a breath panting sides heaving. His eyes flicked to the new dragon before he rushed headlong to his father's side. There were no tears as he tried to embrace his dark sire. "Father... Mother left, I've looked everywhere for her and I can't find her." His voice was deeper than it had been last time, raw with his emotion. He was embarrassed to be so touchy-feely with him, but the lad couldn't help it. He had locked himself away from everyone else for so long and help had arrived.

Taking a deep breath he moved back from the stud eyes imploring him to help, to give him guidance. Swallowing hard he turned to look at the massive golden dragon. He had no idea the creature was his brother, having missed him speaking to their father. He eyed the scaly beast curiously. "Who is this Father?"
Words
Words;; 425
OOC/Tags;;  @ Volterra @Tyrath

ASTAROT & TYRATH
I'm the pretty one in this bromance



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