"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.
Soon, she grew tired of peering at the egg, hoping it would hatch. Others had appeared anyways, more foals older than her too. A couple of adults appear too, and one asks where the parents of all these foals were. "She talks." "Don't have parents." She said simply, shrugging it off. And then the tree was speaking. Speaking of all things! It intrigued the young filly, and she tilted her head to listen to the tree's words. "She talks." "I will gladly help!" She said, ruffling her feathers on her wings in happiness. Her bright eyes looked at the egg for a moment before she darted off to help gather nuts and berries.
Hooves carried the filly at a walk as her little head lowered to look for berries. This was where her wings could come in handy! Spreading them slightly, she curled them in, creating almost a bowl shape to carry stuff in. Walking about, she would gently reach out and pluck off berries and nuts that she could reach. She seemed to be smaller than the others, and thus she was able to sneak under other branches and stuff that others might not be able to get to. Her small head was able slip easily between branches that were closer together. This gathering thing was fun!
After she grabbed a good amount, or she thought, of nuts and berries she carefully maneuvered her way back over towards the tree and the smooth stump platforms. "She talks." "Here you go. Food for the little friends of the woods. Food for the birds, for the squirrels and all other creatures who need food in this section of the woods." The blue roan filly gave the kindly tree a gentle smile as she carefully put her collected nuts, berries and seeds on one of the stumps and stood there for a few moments before she would back off, unless the tree wished to speak to her.
OOC: Gemini is seeking a Zephyr with any magic!
She walks. | "She talks." | She thinks.
The young boy was delighted to hear the tree not only speak, but to answer his question. His large green eyes widened as he looked up into the gnarled face of the tree with awe. Many had joined - and were still joining - what was beginning to be quite a large gathering, but for the moment, Thèo only had eyes for the tree.
Having not been alive for very long, Thèo wasn't very clear on the economics of scarcity, or even what Frostfall was. He had learned of the different seasons of course, but having grown up in the Throat he couldn't even fathom a time when the sun wasn't beating down upon them (both metaphorically and literally, for the boy constantly stood in a pillar of light). And, given the enormity of the Dragon's Throat herd, it seemed bizarre to think that there wouldn't always be someone to provide resources for the herd.
Still, Thèo was a willing enough child. He bobbed his anteloped-horned skull obligingly. Of course! Only berries, nuts, and seeds? Is there anything to be avoided?" He cast his green gaze around, wondering how he would tell if something was poisonous, or erroneous to the task at hand.
Setting off in a different direction from the others (they would cover more ground if they weren't grouped together, Thèo reasoned), he began scouring for the items the tree had asked for. When he found something he thought would be to its liking, he would pick it up with a wing, and cradle it in the other. When his wing became full, he'd trot back to the tree, deposit his findings (pause to see if any other instructions were given), and then begin the entire ordeal again.
Summary: Thèo gathers some stuff, makes a pile of it at the base of the tree, and then starts over.
Thèo would like a Rougarou! No prior refusals or rolls.
mathèo
Oh Lady, running down to the riptide
Taken away to the dark side, I wanna be your left hand man
The tree talks. Alright, it has a face,but that doesn’t surprise her. Sort of. Some odd combination of knots that vaguely resembles a face. But it talks. And it’s not like Syrena hasn’t been around Helovia long enough to know this place is weird. Hell, even she’s weird (which is saying something, by Helovia’s standards). But the tree talks. Like there’s a level of weird she’s come to accept, and a level of things that should just NOT TALK. There’s no other way to put it.
But no. This tree says hello, and makes various comments to all the horses that have gathered. And it might be just a bit snarky, actually. She can’t tell between all the smacking sounds the sap makes, but she likes the tree just a bit more if it’s actually being snarky. Good. So trees do have a sense of humor, perhaps.
It begins to talk more, about the creatures in the thicket and how they needed more food. Yea, well so did she, really. Half her home burned to a crisp. The critters here should probably count themselves lucky. How about someone collect food for her instead and let her hibernate through winter, warm and snuggly in some cave? Ah, but no, it doesn’t work that way really. She could just step on the squirrel and eat the meat if it really came to it, but the squirrel needed nuts it would never find once the snow started falling.
And no, she won’t actually step on the squirrel and eat it. Meat isn’t actually a horses thing. It’s just the point of the sentiment.
“Sure,” she says, because let’s face it, she wants the egg. And hell, she’s here anyway so she might as well. A few have already trundled off, coming back rather quick. Wasn’t the point to leave the thicket and find stuff outside of it? Cause the squirrels can probably get the close berries and nuts. But maybe they all went farther than she realized and just so happened to move faster than she does. Because she does not move that fast.
She saunters off, leaving the thicket behind until she finds a collection of pine trees. The cones hang obviously enough on the trees, but she has no way of getting to the cones. So instead, she searches the ground for the nuts that have already fallen, using a particularly large leaf to collect all the nuts. When she’s got a solid collection of nuts, and a few cones that happened to have fallen to the ground (she figures the squirrels will know how to get the nuts out of the buggers), she scoops the leaf up in her mouth as best she can and makes her way back. When she returns, she makes her way to the tree, depositing the leaf of nuts on the stump. The leaf unfurls vaguely like a plate. It’s not silver, but it should probably be a silver platter. Either way.
The tree talks. It talks! She’s giddier than she can explain. This isn’t the first weird thing she’s run into in Helovia, but it is definitely her favorite. First there was the rat man with the two eggs (one of which was real) and the shadows that showed her Corbin, that made her relive moments of her past with her brother. Out of those shadow’s she’d been given a gift, one that memory and patience and time earned. A piece of Helovia that also felt very much like a piece of herself. In a way, it was something that made her feel like she belonged here. Like she wasn’t just an outsider trying to fit in. And now, the trees (her trees) were talking. Well, one of them was.
She knows by now what’s in the egg, and she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t a motivating factor. Yes, she is curious to know what it’s like to have a bond with a companion, and in truth, she would simply like to always have a friend at her side. Yes, she had made friends here. But still. She had no family here, no horse she saw on any regular basis. Her closest friend was Alysanne, who was rather busy being Queen now and all. She admits that the companionship would be nice.
But at the same, how could she ever deny the trees a request for help. To hear that the blue spruce is troubled leaves her own heart troubled as well. This place – particularly this Forest – meant so much to her. If it needed help enough to actually bring a tree to life in order to ask for it, she would help regardless of the reward at the end. These trees were her friends before anyone else was, the critters her only real form of conversation for longer than she might want to admit. It was the least she could do. “Of course,” she says, her voice kind and gentle as it always is.
Some of the others have already set off, and some have returned though others have not yet. She takes a moment to think of where she can go, of something good and perhaps slightly special she can bring the tree and the critters of the thicket. After a moment, an idea comes to her, and she slips through the trees till she can find a place to take to the sky again. It doesn’t take her long to find what she’s looking for from the air. There’s a large patch of sunflowers in the Thistle Meadow, some of which were spared from the fires of Tallsun. At this point, the sunflowers were dying, their yellow petals turning brown and falling to earth.
But that was exactly what she needed. The seeds – all those seeds – were just waiting to be harvested. But she doesn’t try to get the seeds now. No, instead she lands, using her teeth and a rock to slowly cut her way through the thick stems of the sunflowers. It’s no easy job, but thankfully her wings help to hold the sunflowers in place as she cuts. Finally, after what feels like forever (but really, was perhaps half an hour), she’s cut down a handful of sunflower heads. She gathers the stems in her mouth and lifts, surprised as just how heavy these things were.
Given the weight, she tucks a few of the sunflower heads behind each wing, pinning them to her side. Looks like she’d be walking back. She tries to go quickly, not wanting to make the tree wait too long. Thankfully, she didn’t travel terribly far to find the sunflowers, and so her trek back takes a reasonable amount of time. She finds the thicket again quickly, placing the sunflower heads on the ground and stripping them of their extra petals and leaves, eventually placing just the heads, full of seeds, on one of the stumps. “Should I get more?” she asks the tree, uncertain how much it needs or how long the tree wants her to be gone. So she waits, ready to collect whatever else the tree might need.
They come and come, more and more, mostly young – where are they all coming from? Since when was the Forest so full of others in the middle of the day? Macaria snorts softly through shaky pink nostrils, her golden eyes moving over each face and then back to the gnarled face of the tree. Some of the others talk, but she's suddenly too nervous, too prickled with anxiety to listen. She only stares into the wrinkled edges of the tree's abysmal eyes. The unicorn day dreams for a moment what it might be thinking while it waits, or looks like it's waiting anyway. Its booming voice erupts from its syrupy mouth and it startles of the dappled youngling sending her sparks sizzling and flickering across her markings, fading away to nothing as quickly as they came to life seconds before.
When her eyes move to study the egg in the grasp of a million stabby evergreen needles her long thick cheeked head slants slightly to one side, her ears cocking in opposite ways while she trails off in thought about what it could be. When the tree's baritone voice slices into the chattering voices and shuffling feet Macaria returns her attention back to it's contorted trunk-face. His quest is an interesting one; one Aria would do for no reward at all – in fact she has before. Returning lost babies to their mothers, hatch-lings to their nests, freeing trapped critters or anything in need of rescue at all, is sort of her favorite-ist thing to do. She is starting her fancy herself quite the little knight, really.
Food for the thicket-dwelling creatures, aye? Her tail twists and dances in thought, her sulfuric eyes darting after the bodies that have immediately begun to scatter in all directions. Oh my, everyone knows what to do right away? Her hearts sinks and turns around in a few circles (it feels like) and her gut is crowded with stones, suddenly. She talks herself out of a meltdown and is soon on the track to a solution.
Now where is there something close to here, so I may gather in quantity and with haste? She admittedly doesn't know much about the flora and fauna and what is medicinal and what is poisonous or how it grows. Only the basics or what she has stolen from others by watching from the shadows like a creeper. A small huddle of trees just down the way from this here thicket, just around the bend, is filled with some things she saw a stranger gathering some time ago. It meant nothing much to her at the time, she was not hungry or in need, but still she can recall just where it was and that there was quite a bit of lovely fruits and nuts. The stranger carried them in a hammock made from what appeared to be a very big leaf.
She turns on a feathered heel, her dew-claws digging in the moss and soil, she canters off to the east with her plan in mind. She weaves through trees and bramble, over roots and even through a small shallow swamp. For her size she's quite graceful and moves in the density of forest, across the spongy earth with only muffled sounds. It's a quick trip and she's fairly confident she can weasel a roughly made leaf satchel full of whatever she can gather through even thickest patch of woodland she came through to get here. It's a small opening where the sun can peek in from above, large boulders watch over the patch of bountiful greenery. Thorny bushes full of ripe blackberries, wide leafed mounds full of delicious little elderberries and a giant hazelnut tree bristling in the wind, standing in the middle of the peaceful little forest room. She takes in a deep breath as she emerges into the warm beams of sun finding their way down to her. Her dapples sizzle and snap, tiny sparks bounce around and fade out soon after – she wonders if this is the stranger's secret place.
I hope I am allowed to be here...
She goes to work hunting down a suitable leaf. It takes her a few more minutes than she's happy with but she doesn't waste much time being disappointed. First she gathers a bit of hazelnuts, smashing their shell and placing their good bits in the center of her. It takes some effort to find the good ones – it pays to be tall. She places a few with their shells just in case some may prefer it that way. Next she plucks berries, which is quite hard actually. Carefully she handles them with her pink lips, tenderly plucking the choice fruit and tenderly placing it on the leaf. Elderberries are next and she finds them a little easier to harvest. She hurries back to the talking tree, leaf folded neatly like a fruit burrito (what is that, even?) and clasped tightly between her teeth. She finds a platform not yet spilling over and she unloads the contents of her tattered leaf.
There. She grins down at what she had gathered, her tail dancing with the energy of the moment.
She looks around with a bit of surprise. Again, then? She sees some moving off on more trips. She hops in place, leaving her old leaf behind, she'll surely find another, better one. She bounds off again on the same path to return for more. She'll do this until it's time to stop.
I am ignored. Blatantly so as the roan stallion turns instead to focus his attention on a couple foals that had traipsed their way into the clearing. It stings, right down to the core, adults are supposed to be those that help and comfort and provide information. A part of me agrees that the best course of action would be to find someone else, perhaps another adult among the growing throng of children. Alas, the less logical part of my brain refused to cow beneath the gross disrespect he had for me, whether he knew me or not should not have mattered! With a flippant arch of my spine I twist around to follow his movements, ears sliding back into the black mass of my mane as I come to stand before him, right where he could not ignore me this time. "It is rude to ignore people, no matter how small they might be!" Something akin to fear rushed through my nerves, tittering along the base of my brain as I give him a final jerk of my head.
I like to think it was a sense of control that sent me on my way, not the irrational fear of being reprimanded by a total stranger. Mother would hate to know someone else took it upon themselves to chastise her baby, and maybe that niggling thought is what helped alleviate some of the pressure weighing down on my conscious. Just a bit...
Long, gangly legs carried me throughout the crowed, which had grown two sizes in the last half hour since my arrival. Most of those present were in fact, foals, similar to or younger than myself, which was enough to instill a sense of glee in my bones. It was not often that I got to be older than somebody, let alone such a large group! Even the awkward swing of my hind-legs could not hinder this feeling of success as I glanced left and right, slowly drawing closer to the focal point of this meeting. It was not until I was practically upon it that I discovered the spruce, its pines were thicker and longer than the other trees'. Each spine pressed downward in that sweeping fashion they tended toward, creating a wide skirt that threatened the hair of my breast. ""Oh- !" No sooner had I taken a deep breath of forest, did it start to... it started to speak! Thick, deformed lips dragged through heavy sap, chewing on words that to me, made no sense. The honey-gold syrup seemed to ooze from every wrinkle and barky crevice of its face, making for quite a frightening sight. Nobody seemed afraid of it though, even as it molded its way around words and feelings to get some form of finality across.
'The creatures in my thicket do not have enough food to get through Frostfall..' (then why do you stay here?) I quip to myself, listening with rapt attention as the tree-beast explains his desires and fears. It might have been a flash of color, or perhaps a gleam of sunlight, but in a single, distracted glance I noticed the egg. I have seen eggs before, either crushed or waiting to be hatched, but never have I seen one quite like that. What kind of creature did something that big house? I had little time to ponder before I realized time had moved on in my shocked reverie. Suddenly there was a vague semi-circle of stump-like platforms, natures platters, open and hopelessly empty. What did they want? (Do they belong to that monster?) I think with incredulity. The afternoon was turning out to be so much more than I could have possibly hoped for!
All of those gathered had quickly dispersed, vanishing between trees, leaving a raucous trail in their wake. I remained put, watching with wide, pale eyes as a colt abruptly re-appeared. A winged lad, skin lit by the light in such a way that I was forced to squint. He dropped a leaf of some sort onto one of the stumps and several nuts went tumbling about, revealing a haphazard assortment of dried berries and tree-nuts. Then another foal appeared and he too carried some brand of wild foliage with him, serving it upon the stumps like you would expect to serve your Lord. (Are they crazy!?) I have to ask myself, trying to keep a level head as brows quirk into confused knots. More and more are coming back, the once empty platters have become full with rich berries and hidden nuts. A part of me is compelled to simply follow the crowd, so I do. I turn on my heel and with a last, longing look toward the tree, jog into the forest.
I search everything I can think, grabbing hold of a fallen limb to drag behind as an after-thought. I find berries that are blue and small, they are sweet with a bite that makes me smile. I find some that are red and seedy and soft, mauve juices color my already dark lips darker as I add these to my branch as well. Others are slipping past on their third or fourth trip while I have only just begun my first. My chest pangs in disappointment and I grip the sappy branch ever tighter. That is when I see her, that blue flesh is totally dry this time, reverted back to that bland blue she was when I first saw her. Somehow just then, I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. "Syrena!" I gasp aloud, chugging forward to join her beneath a high-water aspen. She is picking pine-nuts up from the ground, I could use these too! "Do you remember me? From the water?"
"Talk."
ooc - speaking directly to @Cowboy and @Syrena <3333 all the love for Syrena!
seeking a Dragon! With toxic breath. No previous rolls or refusals.
More come. And more. And more. Now you're lost, drowning in a sea of faces. They vary like wildflowers, each stranger and more colorful than the last: horns, wings, cloven hooves, young voices and old clamoring excitedly at the tree. The presence of each batters you like a wave, and maybe some part of your brain cries, run, but the other parts are stifled, drowning in it all. Dark eyes swivel in your delicate face as you search in vain for something to recognize, but it's all a collage of horse. "Hey," one of the voices hisses directly into your ear, and with a start, you turn to blink at a girl you might remember if your soul weren't already crawling out of your ears. "What's going on?" Hell if you know, right? Your mouth sort of opens to answer, but she's already gone.
Then the tree talks.
I'd like to say you take this in stride, but I simply can't stretch the truth so far. What happens, really, is a full-body twitch that goes from the soles of your hooves to the end of your propped tail: you hop and twist at the same time, a near-inaudible grunt of air forced from your lungs. And then your black eyes lock on the face behind the needles. You hadn't really expected it to talk. A part of you still struggles to reconcile this evidence of sentience with everything you know about trees. Maybe this isn't really a tree? Maybe it's something else? Maybe they've all been silently watching you the whole time, judging? Hating? Self conscious to the core, you listen to the tree's demands in rapt silence, forgetting for a little bit the others jam-packed in around you. You dare not take your attention from the fir again — not even for a moment. Not until it hands you a task, at least.
Well, collective you, in this case. It asks the group at large, as if you've all been gathered here for the same purpose: collect berries, nuts, seeds. You can do that, can't you, Virga? A slow nod moves the delicate features of your face. Already, a few others begin to disperse. Some ask questions first. Your ears twitch at the sound of their voices, and slowly you back away, tucking your small body into the forest and moving at a purposeful trot between the other trees. Never in your life have you been mindful of the trunks and branches as you are now, your eyes scouring the forest floor for prizes within reach. Eventually you do find something: a thicket of bushes hung with the sweet smell of ripe fruit. Maybe too ripe, you think, as you reach out with soft lips to probe at the nearest dark berry. Sweet and tart, the taste of its juice cascades pleasantly over your tongue as the lightest touch bruises the soft flesh. Well, it tastes good. You hope the birds and other creatures will agree as gingerly, you pluck the nearest berry and nestle it in the crook of a wing. You're about to take another when you pause, your ears twitching once more, and remember the face in the tree and wonder if bushes, too, can have faces.
Better safe than sorry.
"Uhm." Head cocked, you regard the branches doubtfully. "I need these," you explain, brows furrowed. You sense no answer forthcoming, but you add quiet reasoning, all the same, in case the bush really does resent the literal fruits of its labor being stripped. "For little animals. Please. Thank you." With a brief nod, you continue picking, your tail wiggling as you scrabble under branches and crane that elegant neck of yours up and around, trying not to spill any of the prize you've already collected. When you can't carry anymore, you return to the fir, your pace agonizingly slow so as to avoid harming your precious fruit. This is what it wanted, yes? You hope so as you inch near the piles others have already created and tilt the berries to rest with the other offerings. Even with the berries gone, their juice leaves both side and wing feathers sticky sweet; a glance at the stains (hardly visible) and you wince, grimace, step away. Together you've all brought enough food, surely? You turn to the tree again, wanting to ask but a little afraid of its temper. "Mm..." You can do it, Virga. "Like this...?" you wonder, your voice little more than a mumble. You don't quite want to make another trip, sticky and sweet-smelling as you are, but if you must...
Virga
silver horses chased down moonbeams in your dark eyes
Virga tries to answer Larue, doesn't do a very good job. Trots off to find some blackberries, asks the bush permission to take them, brings them back. Asks the tree if he's done a good job. Seeking a rougarou. No prior refusals.
09-29-2016, 01:21 PM (This post was last modified: 09-29-2016, 07:57 PM by Tyrath.)
tyrath
Kid? Tyrath's skull dipped when the skull filly repeated their brother's name, fanged maw twisted into a sly smile. "I'm Tyrath." She didn't stop there, her questions are fired rapidly at him, she demanded to know where Kid was and an ashen ear fell backward. He hadn't seen Kid in awhile, just as he'd not seen Zhu until recently. Perhaps they had left together? Which would mean they would of returned together, and that Kid could of been not far behind his older brother when they had reunited.
He's not about to lose his new found sister over his inability to answer her questions.
"He was near the Dragon's Throat." It's a simple answer, the rest interrupted by a voice which cut across his own.
The Red Stallion drew his attention again, and Tyrath's quad-horned skull dipped to the side to better look at him. "Pardon me guys, and gal, but is are ya'll the kids of Volterra?"His question earned a snort from the flame wreathed colt, part of him found it foolish for him to ask — it wasn't like his aunt had spawned all of them from her womb, was it? Only his father had the virility, loose morals and stamina to continue to add to the already swollen brood. "Judging by our faces, we are all children of Volterra, it's not hard to see, no?" Their is pride in his voice, while he does not know Sabre, she is his sister, there is no less pride in his voice for her. The flames which poured from his body flared with his words as his wings raised slightly.
The bump from Astarot is returned by his rump being swung in his direction, a wicked grin on his features. "Nice of you to finally show up." He mused, "I thought your fat ass had fallen down a hole, where have you been?"
Part of him was annoyed, not at the red-roan stallion, but out of the corner of his eye more and more turned up — some greedy and selfish no doubt — to try and gain the tree's favor for the delicate treasure it held. More equines to compete with, for that was what this was, no? They would shove and push one another until there was one the tree deemed worthy. Ears fell forward when the tree finally answered his question, it lamented the plight of the creatures who called their boughs and branches home, and that they would die without help.
He had seen the fires on the mainland, as he had flew during tallsun. Had they really ravaged the land that much? His thoughts turned towards his Grandfather and his mother, they were charged with the protection of their land and the creatures within it, it made sense that he too would also have to play his part in keeping those that could not, safe. He wasn't inherently selfish, and there was a tender seed within that wanted to do good, it merely needed a tender hoof to guide it.
"I will help too." And with that, his wings spread and pulled him into a hover in the air. It was easier to glide than it was to truly soar, mindful to avoid getting snagged and pricked by thorns and tangled branches. A nearby tree he spied, was filled with nuts and carefully, his toothed maw plucked the branch from it's place and stowed it in the braid of his tail, another soon joined it and he decided that he would try and at least find some berries. It would be better if the creatures had a variety, he knew he wouldn't be pleased if all he had to eat was nuts.
The berries were harder than expected, the thorns nipped at his nose as he reached for their branches, yet he wasn't about to rely on his magic, even if it would make it easier for him to collect everything. Soon, his braided tail is littered with thorned branches of berries and collections of nuts and he moved back to the tree. Carefully, he placed the various branches upon the stumps until they were all there and he gave a nod to himself. Hopefully it was enough, it looked enough at least. "Is there enough?" It's quiet, and he hadn't realized he'd spoken his own worry out loud.
The outburst is short lived, the skull marked filly is back at him. His face fell back to it's usual wry facade as he peered at her. "Like I said, I'm your brother." He stated with a cock of his head. "As is Astarot. You should come visit the Throat, since he was by the Heart Caves. Father is there now, as Gladiator of the Throat, and Ma is the Sultana, they could help you find him. I'm pretty sure they have seen him as well." If anyone else has seen him, other than Zhu, he was sure they would have.
The boy listened – not to the rumble of foals (though many of them looked eerily familiar; perhaps brothers and sisters of Kid and more offspring of Volterra) or the confusion surrounding their area – but to the strange tree as it cast aside riddles and foreign transcriptions. He nodded towards the maneuvering pillar (and thought nothing of a tree talking, because he’d seen giant turkeys who’d asked him to cook – this was just magic again, alive and at work). The notions and directions were clear, to gather, to scour the soil and bushes for respective seeds, nuts, and berries, and Erebos could almost feel Orsino’s disappointment. Perhaps the kitsune had been aching for danger, intrigue, and violence – but there was no corruption here, no damnation opening up and swallowing them all whole for their insatiable appetites or greed, and the kitsune was left to wallow in the given task. The youth remained silent throughout the measures, much more his father than his mother in the instant, focused entirely on what was to be done and how to do it. Had Rikyn, Aithniel, Adelric, Enna, or any of the others he’d known, cherished, been there, he may have sauntered beside them, laughed and cackled with merry delight at the thought of silly things. Instead, he administered a silent reverie, wandering amidst the dark leaves and the forbidden corridors, traipsing his way along tall columns and thick groves, Orsino grumbling all the way.
But Erebos wouldn’t complain, not when he had an opportunity to snatch, grasp, and clench something he craved.
The soldier dipped his head towards a patch of red berries, lipping at them lightly with his maw, and the sable fox followed suit, despite all of his complaints. No battles! he hissed along their connection, and the scion merely smiled, I’m sure this could be like a battle he launched in response, sending the beast simmering towards the next set of seeds fallen to the ground. He had an inclination to toss a berry at the cretin’s skull, but he had no intention of leaving it to waste after rebounding off of a thick cranium – who knew how the tree was measuring the assignment. They continued in their undertaking, keeping glinting, nefarious eyes on berries and beasts alike, before returning to the designated stumps and dropping their tiny parcels off along the wooden rings. Then they’d start all over again, hunting in more ways than one.
[- Seeking Griffin with Draining Clutch.
- Previous Refusal
- Would like to use one extra roll.]
The light coated boy laughed as his sister spat the word back at him like venom. She could be all pissed off for no reason, but she would come to love him just the same. He smiled and watched her for a moment before a red roan stallion approached claiming to be his half uncle. He looked the stud over for a second before nodding his head. They shared similar features, although he was closer to looking like Ty than himself. Instead he turned his attention back to his sister and looked over her closely. She looked like that asshat colt he had tried to help one day, long ago. He wondered if that was this, Kid, they were talking about. Shrugging inwardly he laughed at Tyrath's remark and bump back.
"Are you back to checking out my ass? I mean hell bro, I know it's nice but try a girl next time." He smirked teasingly, but it didn't last to long. He looked at his brother sadness touching his features for a second. "I've been looking for my Mother." His voice was soft and he turned his attention back to the task at hand, anything to get his mind off of her. The tree spoke as if it had it's mouth full of food; how rude. Ears tipped forward as he watched the others wonder off, including his brother. He watched the dusty colt take wing and he fought the jealous burning in his stomach as he turned south.
He found all kinds of seeds, acorns, pine nuts, and a couple sunflower seeds as well. His mouth full of food and his mane matted with branches the colt made his way back. He dropped his mouthful of food on a stump then pulled the sunflowers from his mane. When he no longer carrying anything the skull marked colt spoke tot he tree, "Sorry about the spit, hopefully they wont mind to much. It's kind of hard to carry food without my mouth." He smiled and made for his siblings and halted beside his brother.
He smiled as he always did and watched the two giggling wildly, inside. 'You two can be Twiddle-Dee and Twiddle-Dumb and I'll be the Mad Hatter.' He chuckled at his own inward joke. "I think I met Kid once, wouldn't give me his name. Real grumpy sort; I'm getting a feeling you might be like that too." His eyes sparkled playfully. "By the way, can I at least have your name Sis? I know Ty said my name, but I'm Astarot." He grinned and tried to bump her muzzle gently as his nostrils flared catching her scent.
Words
Words;; 442
OOC/Tags;; @Sabre@Tyrath Seeking a Dragon with fire breath
It had been a difficult task to hold back her delight at the sight of the tree. That the face carved out of bark upon the large spruce actually spoke was something out of her beloved tales. No matter how much true magic she encountered in Helovia, the little mare never failed to enjoy it immensely. Aisling had had to work hard not to giggle like a we lass at the sight of it, restraint she wouldn't have bothered with if there'd been no one else around. However, as a mother now, and a ranked member of the Aurora Basin, the budding Enchantress was attempting to instill and bit more of a dignified reputation Especially when there were so many little ones about. It was a difficult thing to be respected when one was as small as the little fae, and she worried that flouncing about with all her previous zeal might be looked down upon. What she wouldn't have given for even half her mother's steady grace.
"My mistake." She nodded her white head to the tree in a respectful apology--perhaps she knew not much of talking trees but now at least she's learned not to insinuate that it couldn't take care of an egg. Like the talking fish before, the tree seemed to had created or acquired the egg though whatever magical channels these things came through and Aisling knew that, it the tree decided to pass it on, the creature inside the egg would find a home and a bond with the one that took it. In her experiences with companions (Johnny's funny Jellybean, and Rexanna's cute Marembo) Aisling had thought it must be such a wonderful thing to have that sort of connection and friendship with another creature and as she looked on the egg now, she felt a little pang of longing in her heart.
More arrived, and Aisling had a pleasant smile for each as they joined the gathering. Larue, her precious daughter, got a playful wink from the little enchantress but Aisling held herself back from going to embrace the girl knowing the filly would roll her eyes and pull away saying something along the lines of "Mooooom you're embarrassing me!!!"; Aisling was content to watch her daughter make friends among the foal, smiling to herself when the little lemon gravitated to the colt from the basin. Oh, how sweet! It was a curious thing to see that several of the children all had strange skull-like markings accross their faces; her ears perked, she listened with a marked curiosity as there seemed to be some debate on whether or not they all might be siblings, children of some stallion called Volterra. Even the red dun stallion here was apparently the half-brother o this rather prolific sire. As Aisling's eyes flitted over Cowboy, she tried to ignore the little acquisitive flair in belly at the sight of his dagger. I'll get mine back from that wretched beastie one of these days, I vow it. Whatever his name, the white-armed behemoth was too often on Aisling's mind as of late.
She snapped out of her slightly antagonistic reverie when the tree spoke again, voicing it's worry for the local creatures through the upcoming winter. Like the others, she was eager to help and set off from to seek out anything that would fulfill the spruce's requests. She'd often seen squirrels and birds harvesting the seeds from pine cones and was happy to find a cluster of fallen ones not far from the gathering place. Careful not to crush them, Aisling picked them off the ground, twisting her head around to stash them. The long braid the crested down her neck and down at her shoulder was long and loose, catching the pokey prickles of the pine cones and holding them in place. After collecting a load this was, she gathered a last few in her mouth and went to deposit them at the growing pile at the tree, tugging each free from the braid. This did have the unfortunate effect of making the plait much messier than it had been, with more than one piece of debris stuck in it but Aisling didn't overmuch mind, it was all in a good cause. Shruggin at the mess in her mane, she set off again to try an find more to offer the tree.
Summary: Aisling collects pine cones and places them with the rest, goes to find more.
The tree was pleased to see so many enthusiastic (if only for their own reasons) to help gather food for the woodland critters. Arakh exclaimed his intention to help and dived into the bushes and soon the rest followed, some with similar gusto and some… well, not so much. Matheo, the sunshine colt, did bring up a good point, and a potential hole in this great scheme, but the tree didn’t think there were any poisonous plants in this area that they needed to worry about and they didn’t exactly have the time for a lesson. “Gather whatever you can, they will sort it out after.” The tree offered as much help as it could - which was none - but it would use the eyes and knowledge of the trees in the thicket to stop any of them that were about to taste something poisonous.
Some deposited their gatherings and went back into the forest for more while others lingered. Slackers lingered, and the little gang of skull children that didn’t know how to shut up. Before the tree could answer the questions of is that enough (obviously not! There was an entire season to get through!!) they were attacked.
Well, swarmed.
Well, I don’t know what the right word for what just happened but it was definitely some sort of attack/swarm.
An army of squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, songbirds, porcupines, skunks, racoons were led by a badger as they swooped in and started in for the stumps with the offerings of foods. These weren’t the group of animals that the tree was attempting to feed, these were “THIEVES!!” The tree’s booming voice shook the ground as it twisted its branches in anger, thwacking at a cardinal that got too close.
These were the uninvited house guests, the embodiment of that side of the family that doesn't get invited to holiday dinners but just shows up anyway and ruins everything.
The animals dodged around the legs of those who were standing in the clearing, grabby little hands and claws reaching for the gathered nuts and berries. A few birds made off with the leaf that Macaria had so carefully picked out to gather things in and a porcupine was going after Syrena’s. A squirrel, skunk, and racoon skittered towards the trio of Sabre, Tyrath, and Astarot - intent on getting at the offerings their bodies blocked. Several chipmunks bee-lined it for Cowboy’s stash as some goldfinches flew around Bathsheba and tried to distract her while others picked up the berries she so carefully gathered. A pair of rabbits cautiously approached Lyanna and her collection, their greed outweighing their caution. Meanwhile, the head of the gang - the badger - was hissing at Virga and eying the branch of sweet berries he had collected.
Others swarmed around too, squirrels and chipmunks skittering all over and birds of all colours diving in at any gap they saw, scattering and snatching the hard work of the tree’s new friends.
“HELP! THESE ARE NOT MY CRITTERS!” The tree’s voice boomed again, sending another tremor through the ground, and hopefully calling in reinforcements from those that were still out gathering food. “STOP THEM, THEY’RE TAKING THE FOOD!”
------
OH NO!! Woodland creatures from a neighbouring thicket are trying to steal the food that’s been gathered!
09-30-2016, 12:40 PM (This post was last modified: 09-30-2016, 12:40 PM by Mathèo.)
For a moment, Thèo wasn't quite sure what to do.
On the one hand, hadn't the entire premise of this activity been to help to various animal life that had wasted away their summer, and now required help preparing for winter? Weren't the creatures currently swarming and robbing the cache of food that the (mostly) children had gathered? Seeing their hungry eyes and needy actions, Thèo couldn't help but wonder if these creatures actually needed help more than the ones the tree was preparing for.
But then again, Thèo wondered a lot of things, and until today, he didn't even know that trees could talk (or at least that some could). With a completive pause, the young tribrid weighed his first ethical dilemma.
On the one hand, surely they could all just gather more food? And why not? It hadn't taken long to find what they had already, and Helovia was huge. Couldn't they just all share?
But on the other hand, the tree had now given him very clear instructions twice now. Who was he to argue? Frowning, the boy dismissed his internal musings about what to do, and instead allowed himself to be guided by the tree (who was surely older, and thus obviously wiser).
Closing his eyes, Thèo created three medium-sized copies of the trees. They weren't very large, but he made their fiery branches wave around menacingly (or what he thought was menacingly), at the fury creatures who were currently trying to take the gathered food.
"Stop it! Those weren't gathered from you, and stealing is wrong." The plaintive pleading sound of his voice was nearly palpable. "We can help gather you food too, but you can't just take what isn't yours." He conclude confidently, trying to make this three fiery trees act as sentinels around the food, waving their flaming branches at any creature who scurried too close.
Summary: Thèo makes three fire trees, and tries to position them around the food to fend off the creatures.
Thèo would like a Rougarou! No prior refusals or rolls.
mathèo
Oh Lady, running down to the riptide
Taken away to the dark side, I wanna be your left hand man
I am not sure anyone knew exactly what was going on, it all happened so fast. I had only just made contact with Syrena when suddenly someone was shrieking, what sounded like fear and anger swept through the atmosphere. The ground trembled and I shifted with the sudden disquiet, giving frequent glances to the blue mare in the hopes of finding some form of comfort. Stained lips quiver against the tattered ends of the limb I carry, tugging it closer as several squirrels race past. I cannot really see much more than trees and Syrena, therefore there is no way for me to know it was the spruce screaming. I can, however, feel a disturbance in the forestry around me, the air seems to quiver while I could swear that the Aspen's roots rolled beneath the dirt. (Oh Mother where are you!) Does it make me weak? To want my mother in this moment, as the world around me erupts into a miniature bubble of chaos.
The squirrels from earlier had disappeared, only to be replaced with a multitude of creatures. They rushed left and right, crying and grunting as they appeared hell-bent on stealing the crop gathered. Perhaps I only knew this because this is what they were trying to do me, two raccoons had slunk from beneath a coniferous fir and made a beeline for my branch. Their teeth gnashed, claws leaving deep gouges in the earth as they lunged forward. My first instinct was to flee, escape the aggression making its way toward my legs. Instead they stopped at the base of my sled, stamping over the pines to reach greedy fingers into my bunch of berries. "No! Don't touch my berries!" I cry, eyes sparking with the sudden onslaught of emotion that flooded my chest.
Just as my mouth would have made contact with a raccoons back I was drawn away in a flurry of feathers and sharp edges. Claws, tiny feet flew at my face, pushing and pulling at the black tendrils of my mane and forelock. "Augh!" Birds! A whole group of them, tiny golden creatures with black throats and brown wings. They chirped against the shell of my ear, forcing my head up and front legs off the ground in an effort to send frighten them off. "Go away birdies! Go Go!" I shake and twist and throw my legs out, but to no avail. The birds are successful and the raccoons are making off with the berries I spent so long trying to find. "No! Don't- bring those back!" Without so much as a glance to who might be near I take off after the pesky vermin, hind-legs trembling dangerously as I break into a choppy canter. I run into several trees, taking on shallow scratches, but I never once take my eyes off of those blasted raccoons! The Goldfinch follow me, jerking mercilessly on whatever they can get hold of.
Before I know it I have been taken back to the clearing where it would appear... I am not the only one suffering this unwanted plague. Most of the horses involved have been afflicted by some brand of wild animal, small or large, sneaking and stealing whatever they could get their hands on. The spruce's wrinkled bark has warped into such distress it is almost heart-breaking, even his long pines seemed to droop, making it harder to see the egg beneath. All of the platforms have been besieged, the hard-earned berries and nuts we all gathered being swiftly stolen away. (How is it though-) I think to myself as my ears flicker back to hear the spruce speak (that we are trying to feed animals, but not these ones?) what made these hungry creatures different than any other? Their eyes gleamed with greed, paws hurrying with objective need. I have to back up, the finches seemed to have backed off for the time being as three flaming trees burst up from the earth in a flurry of needles and dirt. The sun-bright boy, wings vibrating, shouted desperately from behind the lines. Was he the one controlling the fiery pillars? Their long arms swinging wildly at whatever wildlife they might be able to reach. Fear raced through my veins as I watched the fire jump and flare, Mother always said to be careful with fire. Fire had a life of its own, it was not something to play with, a thing of great responsibility. My blue eyes seek the spruce in fright, watching as embers explode in the air.
"Talk."
ooc - She followed the critters back to the clearing, being assaulted by goldfinches to find all hell breaking loose. She's now afraid that Matheo will set the spruce and remaining food on fire. Lol
seeking a Dragon! With toxic breath. No previous rolls or refusals.
The colt is too young to have many morals, but as the unwanted critters begin to swarm the clearing, he feels his first taste of confusion. The tree they're helping commands them to get rid of these opposing creatures, but Arakh hesitates for a moment as an internal debate rages in his head.
All animals are hungry after the long, hot Tallsun, not just the critters that live in this tree's thicket. All animals deserve to be helped by the gang of altruistic horses (at least Arakh assumes they are all being altruistic - he truly doesn't realise that there's a prize on the line). Who are they to decide who gets to eat and who doesn't?
But, he muses, this tree must have its reasons. It is older and wiser than him, a simple colt, and he cannot see it demanding they help without good reason. All the same, it does not sit well with the boy that he may have to hurt the offending wildlife, so decides to try and be as none-violent as possible.
He lunges towards the food supplies, standing between two trees of fire that another colt has created. The heat from the branches licks his flesh, but Arakh has no fear of fire - his father was the fire, so by extension, so is he. Snorting loudly, pinning his ears and lowering his head so his bull-horns point menacingly forwards, Arakh paws the ground with a hoof as though he is about to charge the swarming animals. "Critters go away," he commands, his voice far deeper than the majority of foals his age. When he's older, this posture will be far more intimidating, but he fancies that it should manage to scare off at least some of the far smaller woodland critters.
He makes a couple of small faux-charges, flicking his horns and snorting loudly, but attempts to avoid directly making contact with any of the animals. His actions are merely posturing, a none-violent attempt to frighten off some of the more cowardly of the creatures.
THOSE WHO OPPOSE THEE
SHALL KNOW THE WRATH OF HEAVEN
If it had been any other time, Tyrath might have found it comical. A hoard of tiny, furry critters which suddenly appeared, like a furry tide of tiny rage and mischief were upon them all in an instant.
All lead by a badger.
The tree had started with a spluttered 'thieves' accompanied by swinging branches which thwacked a poor bird — an invisible brow is rose in Sabre's and Astarots direction as though he had silently asked them 'did he just hit the bird?' It wasn't very guardian of the forest critters, was it?
Apparently, this was now a drive thru as each and every one of the critters had moved to try snatch and grab at the gathered food. Dinner was served, but not to the ones that needed it. Crimson pits turned toward the tree when it finally beseeched them for help, as though Tyrath hadn't already swatted his tail toward one of the scurrying squrriels with an annoyed snort which had come toward him and his siblings, and then swung it toward the raccoon.
Noting that the glitter child and the bull-horned pegasus had taken to an offensive stance, it wouldn't hurt to follow suit would it? Already, the inkling of pain had spread through his body as his fur smouldered and burst into flame as scales, talons and teeth replaced everything that was equine about him. Magic peeled back the layers and ran rampant over his body until all that was left was draconian in nature.
Wreathed in gold, the colours of a prince and a King.
Clawed paws bit into the earth as he positioned himself in front of his siblings and the stash of food they had gathered, a rolled snarl grumbled in the back of his throat. His horns are brandished toward the squirrel, the skunk and raccoon — If they wanted their food, then they would have to get through him.
She’d actually been almost enjoying this one. There was even part of her that was pleased when Bathsheba found her. It was mostly selfish – glad to be recognized and greeted so fondly. That didn’t exactly happen in Syrena’s world. Though in some small part of her heart, she simply liked the girl, and it made gathering nuts slightly more pleasant. “Bathsheba,” she had said in greeting with a nod. Which, for Syrena, is a terribly fond greeting. It’s rare she actually cares enough to remember someone’s name.
This was definitely not the worst or weirdest thing that’s ever happened in Helovia. She was almost beginning to not mind it, when it all went to hell. Of freaking course it would.
The animals swoop in, and Syrena quickly loses track of the blue and gray girl. A pang of worry actually hits her as she tries to find the girl again, but the porcupine that’s advancing toward her pile of pine nuts snags her attention instead. She would get attacked by a freaking porcupine. This can’t possibly be worth it. There’s a brief moment where she considers leaving. The reward wasn’t worth it. But then, she hears Bathsheba yelling at something not to touch the berries and she realizes she can’t leave, as tempting as it is. The little girl is fighting, so can she.
There’s got to be a way to do so without actually touching one of these critters. Or anyone else. The porcupine is nearly on her, and she scours the ground for something to use as a weapon. The only good luck she’s gotten all day – there’s a branch. A nice, large, branch that is perfect for using as a bat. She picks the thing up in her mouth and swings, smashing the branch into the porcupine with a good crunch, though taking a needle to her face in the process.
She screams, some muffled and furious sound through the branch in her teeth. Now she’s just pissed. Forget the nuts. She’s just pissed enough to fight them off anyway. And if another thing so much as touches her…screw it. She will stomp the damn squirrels this time.
Another cry from Bathsheba catches her attention, and she sees the girl chasing something and birds attacking. She takes off in that direction, muscles and joints protesting the sudden quick movement (she does not move fast), swinging her ridiculous branch toward the birds as they swoop and dive at her and the girl both. Because if nothing else, she can at least still run fast enough to catch up with a filly. Not that that’s saying much, but still.
Her efforts are futile though. The birds are faster than she is, and she only managed to knock two of them out of the sky so far. One she gets with a satisfying crunch, clearly breaking something. Probably she should feel bad, but she doesn’t. There’s still freaking porcupine needles in her face, after all. She wants to hit more of the birds, or wants a squirrel to run near her feet.
She pauses for a moment with her bat, finally focusing on just what’s going on around her. All hell has broken loose. So much of the food is gone already, and fires rage near some of the tree stumps (brilliant, fire near wood and leaves and all sorts of flammable things). And all around her hungry animals keep coming. What could they possibly do to stop them all? And is the tree going to be pissed she’s hurting animals? They aren’t his critters, but still, they are critters…
None of it really matters though. More birds dive at her face, beaks aiming for her seal-gray skin and her ocean-blue eyes. She hisses, wondering just what exactly she’s gotten herself into and why in hell she ever thought this was a good idea. I’m going back to the damn ocean, she thinks miserably as she resumes trying to swat birds out of the sky.
Orsino laughed, and that’s all Erebos could hear above everything else – the cackles, the call of thieves, the twisting and turning and pandemonium as the forest came to life in spits and squalls. The measures of the mundane and dull were cast aside; it’d been too safe, too secure, too tranquil for the likes of the demonic groves and the restless meaning of their games. He hadn’t expected an incoming threat to be simply woodland creatures, but both of their bestial souls were eager, fervent, ready for the chaos.
The fox continued cackling, a messy sibilance of feverish pitches and wild contortions, racing after several animals at once, brandishing his claws and swiping at passing pelts. There were too many for him to grapple with alone, a tidal wave of furry bodies and winged fiends – everyone too possessive, grasping and snarling and wanting what they thought belonged to them. If Erebos hadn’t been caught up in the game, he might’ve found it funny, amusing, and chuckled alongside the tall pines and giant oaks; but his mind was bewitched, enticed, by the slaughter, by the havoc, by the decorum of violence and upheaval.
He knew so little about the dark, alluring incantations flourishing through him, along his skull, drifting across his spine, itching and rasping and serenading his mind with the delectable relish of corruption; but he enjoyed its tarnishing capabilities. With no more than a single thought, it curled and coiled in his heart, in his soul, in his essence, polishing over fire and brimstone, water and valor, colliding and blending with his avaricious intentions. Rapacious and unrelenting, it pooled along his chest and carved its way through his beating flesh, and he merely tilted his head, drunk on its riches and perils. He eyed several birds and chipmunks closing in, resting his gaze on their beady little eyes and their triumphant smirks, and commanded in a single, solitary demand. Freeze. Were their minds filled with darkness too? Were they called to shadows? Were they alive in these beautifully savage woods because they knew how to survive on tainted whims and catacomb caprices? And if so, could he make them do his bidding? Could he distort and manipulate their gluttonous membranes? He hoped they listened. He hoped they followed suit.
Another direction floored through his mind – to their bodies, to their voracious appetites, to their silly, stupid entities in a brutal, silent monstrosity – trying to fling, cast, force the closest ones aside, back into the chambers of fir and pine.
[*Orsino tries to bat, scratch, and claw animals nearby.
*Erebos attempts to use his dark magic to corrupt/command the nearest animals to freeze them in place, and then tries to use the magic again to fling them away.
- Seeking Griffin with Draining Clutch.
- Previous Refusal
- Would like to use one extra roll.]
She preened her feathers happily, glad to have been of help to the tree. While she was standing there, she watched others returning from collecting their own shares of food. The young blue roan was so eager to please and to help collect the food for the woodland creatures that needed the food so badly. Her mother and father would've been so proud of her for helping others who were unable to collect their own food for reasons unknown to her. A grin split her face as she beamed at the tree who told them to gather whatever they could for the creatures. She enjoyed this helping others thing. She should do this more often!
Her eyes grew wide as creatures began to attack the food they had worked hard to gather. Not being one for violence, the filly hesitated to hurt any creatures. Glancing at her large wings at her sides, she shoved them outwards. Her wings shoved some of the smaller, four-legged creatures aside with the force she flung them outwards with. Despite how small she was, her wings were strong and large. After shoving aside the creatures, she carefully but quickly spread her wings across as many of the stumps as she possibly could to protect the remaining food. "Back! Back you thieves!" She cried.
How could creatures do this kind of thing?! It was rude, mean! Then again, she'd seen some horrors in her early days. Maybe things like this were possible... Maybe there were those who were mean purely for the sake of being mean. She couldn't understand it, but perhaps they had a reason for being like this... But it still was no good! It wasn't right for them to just come up and take things. Spotting a raccoon coming towards her from the back, she aimed a backwards kick at the raccoon and sent it away from her and the food. Her large wings covered at least four of the stumps, wings carefully arched to cover but not disturb the food gathered on the stumps.
OOC: Gemini is seeking a Zephyr with any magic!
She walks. | "She talks." | She thinks.
The tree doesn’t seem overly concerned with what they collect, so Lyanna figures maybe she should go back for something else. Because the sunflowers were not particularly easy to collect, and while she didn’t mind, she didn’t know how long she was supposed to be gone either and didn’t want to miss whatever span of life this tree would have. But there are others heading out on second trips, which makes her figure she’s certainly got enough time to find some slightly more local berries and nuts to add to the collection.
But she doesn’t get the chance. They must have been waiting and watching for the right moment. Enough horses were off gathering food that many of the stumps were unprotected, and there was more than enough to make the effort of attacking worthwhile. There’s a badger in the lead, but that’s all she has time to notice. The swarm (horde, barrage, whatever) of animals comes in full force, the ground shaking with the tree’s anger and the power of their attackers. Tiny little critters, but there were so many of them…
It’s obvious what they are planning before the tree yells, though she’s surprised to find that they are not his critters. Didn’t the members of the forest share? But of course, for all the time she spends here, she doesn’t really know how things work. It’s not as if she can speak to the animals or the trees normally, and so she only knows what’s obvious to her eyes.
A pair of rabbits zero in on her stash. She has no desire to hurt any of these critters, and certainly not rabbits. They don’t seem to care that she’s so much larger than her though. She unfurls her wings, using them as a shield against the oncoming animals. Though they only block the front, and only animals stuck on the ground. She’s hoping the tree behind her is enough of a shield from the back, and perhaps…she moves so she’s standing over her stump, using her body to shield the stump from above. She moves her wings slightly to make sure they wrap around the stump as much as she can, and flaps them around hoping to scare off the rabbits.
It doesn’t work though. They advance anyway, looking a whole lot like they are trying to calculate getting through her body shield. She drops her head and grabs a nearby rock with her mouth, chucking it toward one of the rabbits. It skitters away a bit, and she chucks more rocks at both of them, trying to chase them off.
Somewhere in the melee she registers a fire burning. No, a few fires. She can only hope those are very controlled fires, or all this gathering and fighting would be for nothing anyway. They could all be fleeing from a wildfire soon enough. She thinks she sees a dragon elsewhere, any another boy trying to scare the animals as well.
The rabbits are still lurking though, and her attentions shift back to them, momentarily forgetting to keep her attention on all her surroundings. A squirrel takes advantage as she drops her head for another rock, skittering around and behind her until he can get through her legs. His tail gives him away, tickling the underside of her belly. She jumps a bit, wings moving away enough to let one of the rabbits in as well. Neither the squirrel nor the rabbit can move the entire sunflower head though. They both grab a mouthful of seeds, but then she’s already swatting them away with the tip of her wings. She repositions herself, trying her best to cover the back as much as she can, keeping her eyes open for the next attack.
How long would they have to fend off fury creatures? She couldn’t bring herself to kill them to stop this. She’d rather just get more food. Maybe they could just feed all the animals? No, that wasn’t realistic either. Oh, what a mess indeed. And it didn’t seem like it had any good way to end. She tries not to get too upset though, trying instead to remember what Corbin had taught her. Eyes open, ears up, senses on high alert. She grabs a small stick in her mouth this time and hurls it at another oncoming squirrel, wondering what else this day might bring. No, perhaps it’s best not to think about that either.
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
![[Image: tyrath_by_bronzehalo_d9yw5wg_by_arahvir-d9yx9ov.png]](http://orig07.deviantart.net/1336/f/2016/104/9/c/tyrath_by_bronzehalo_d9yw5wg_by_arahvir-d9yx9ov.png)
