the Rift

SWP :: And so it begins

Random Event Posts: 1,286
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Some of the Helovian's were quite clever, and had already deduced that it was the marshes that needed his care and attention. Truthfully, from what he had seen and what he was told, he thought that they had all forgotten about those lands labeled as dead, and then forgotten. There had been monsters there, for a time, hadn't there? Or was that perhaps just some nonsense that someone told him? Honestly, he couldn't remember. But, that was all just to say that for those who hadn't guessed where his tasks would take place, he very much doubted that they would be surprised by it.

"Friends! The time has come!" He called out. Kisamoa's voice was magically amplified throughout the land, and extending in fact a great deal farther than normal means could have carried it. This was no mere chit chat he wanted, nor was it going to be an attempt to buy their friendship (a trick that the Moon Goddess could quite clearly do a great deal better than he could). No, this was down to the real meat and bones of the thing. It was why he was here, and, as he had told them right from the get go, he needed their help.

"Don't be afraid! I know these lands have crossed several of your minds since my arrival and you were all quite correct! It doesn't take the likes of me to convince you of the poor state that they are in now." That you have let them be in, he wanted to add, but didn't. Instead, he smiled charmingly and waited. "Join round, and I shall tell you just what it is that I require of you." Kisamoa paused, waiting for the majority of those who were likely to arrive, to do just that.

"Friends. Our first task must be to remove the filth that has been allowed to overtake this area. There is so much death ... and we must rid this land of it. Already you can see bones littered everywhere! Our first task is to collect as many bones as we can, and pile them here. For those of you who know the God of the Earth, you will know that forever everything, he has a plan. There is a plan for these bones as well! Not a thing will go to waste!" His smile widened, and he offered a warm and benevolent grin to those who looked uneasy at the thought of collecting bones. "Not everything is easy friends, but it is a task that we must do - one that I simply cannot do on my own!"

He looked around once more, squinting off into the distance. "There are also any number of other obstacles to clear ... trees which have grown dead and fallen against one another are  blocking out the sun in a number of places. There are places were the water is dammed, places were mold has taken over! Anything that you see, please, find a way to rectify. And remember! Bones must be brought here!"

Kisamoa has finally revealed what he needs help with! He needs the Helovian's to help restore the Marshes! For all natural obstacles (dams, places where the sun is being blocked, places where things are overgrown, etc) use your ingenuity to clear them! Because there has been so much death, Kisamoa also asks that you collect as many bones that you find, and pile them where he currently is (you can just say in your threads that you "bring them where they need to go" or something similiar).

The territories which border on the 'deadlands' (aka the marshes) which need to be cleared, are: The Endless Blue, the Ancient Rotunda, and the Veins of the Gods.


1. You don't have to post to this thread, but it's recommended!
2. You don't have to have joined any of the other SWP threads in order to participate! Start at any time!
3. Feel free to make your own 'gathering' threads, or join someone elses! #teamwork!

Isopia the Mountain That Knows Posts: 780
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 6.5 | def: 10 | dam: 8.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 18hh :: 3 - is now aging slowly HP: 90 | Buff: NUMB
Hubris :: Royal Bronze Dragon :: Shock Breath & Frost Breath & Babel :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath Odd

He had been gone for a few weeks now, and, admittedly, he'd slipped from Isopia's mind. Perhaps given his affiliation with her Father, this was an oversight on her part, but Kisamoa's presence in Helovia struck her as so ... uninteresting as of late. She was curious to know what this task was that he kept referring to, but it was far from a pressing issue.

That was until he reappeared.

Isopia and Hubris glided low, towards where the oddly-mottled creature stood. His voice had risen high into the sky, pulling her down towards him. She assumed that more would gather rather quickly, as they usually did, and Isopia wondered if Kisamoa would show off his generosity once again, or if perhaps he would be joined by another of the Gods. As she landed however it became clear that this was his moment, and in turn, was the moment they'd all been waiting for.

Silently the demi-goddess listened. The Marshes had been a barren land for as long as she could remember, though she'd heard stories of a time when they were not so full of death and were once quite beautiful. It seemed possible that her Father would task Kisamoa with this responsibility. Restoration was one of his pass-times, after all.

For those of you who know the God of the Earth, you will know that forever everything, he has a plan. Isopia snorted softly to herself. Well that certainly sounded like her Father.

"Looks like we've got our work cut out for us." Isopia mumbled aloud to Hubris, who nodded enthusiastically.

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.
Image Credits

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

Mathèo Posts: 65
Dragon's Throat Colt
Stallion :: Tribrid :: 17.2 :: 3 seasons
Delphi :: Common Rougarou :: Flame Odd
& the last lion roars at the last dusty fountain

Mathèo wandered through the world, feeling alone but not necessarily lonely. Unlike some of his other siblings, he hadn't - and wouldn't - become a victim of his circumstance. That he rarely saw his twin, that his Father was dead and his Mother was away being important did not drain his soul of its shine. Instead, Mathèo simply made his own way through the world, picking and choosing which paths he would follow based on nothing more than the mere whims of a small boy. 

Today, he found himself following the voice of Kisamoa. Without a chip on his shoulder or a grudge against the world, the grey prince was more than happy to dutifully and obediently follow the orders of the strange sea-creature without question.

Ambling into the clearing, constantly bathed in a sun-sparkle of light, the tribrid stared up at the creature, and moved to stand near Isopia, his aunt. The boy looked up at her with wide sea-green eyes, before turning to stare back at Kisamoa, drinking in his words and instructions. A delighted smile crossed his youthful features, one that reached his eyes and made them beam with purpose.

"Do we have to be quick?"  The boy asked thoughtfully, unsure if he was allowed to address Kisamoa, or whether his question should have been directed towards Isopia.

Luther and Mathèo
art by ladyperfume

Kolr Posts: 16
Filly :: Equine :: 15hh ::


Though Korl heard Kisamoa's call quite clearly, part of her was unsure whether or not she actually wanted to follow. After all, she had no desire to breathe underwater, or to venture into a cave below the sea. She wanted to stay where it was safe, where she could hide the awkward tilt of her legs, and where she would go unnoticed. But perhaps it would be even more noticeable if she stayed behind, than if she followed the small group already making their way towards the source of Kisamoa's voice?

Biting her lip, Kolr decided to amble behind them, trying to keep up as best as she could.

By the time the small filly had reached the Rotunda, Kisamoa was already well through his speech. Sweat coated the girl's off-white body, and her large blue eyes appeared dazed and exhausted. Why had she done this? Why had she bothered? Inhaling deeply, not really bothering to actively listen to what Kisamoa was instructing them to do, the pigeon-toed filly stood beneath a tree, head low, trying to catch her breath.

Image Credits

Tae Posts: 133
Dragon's Throat Alchemist atk: 7.0 | def: 10 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.2 :: 2 HP: 72.5 |
Mal :: Timber Wolf :: Terrorize & Hel :: Royal Hellhound :: Hellfire Odd

Tae followed, not because she gave a damn about Kisamoa or the things he had in store for the Helovians, but because she was still on the hunt for the theif who had taken her cloak. As more and more time passed the mandible-marked mare became convinced that she hadn't lost the magical item. If she had, it would have turned up by now. Everyone in the Dragon's Throat knew that it was hers, and surely if someone had just found it, she would have heard tales of their extraordinary luck. That no such reports had been made solidified her earlier assumptions. And if it killed her, she would see her cloak returned.

With a wolfish smile Tae joined the group which had already formed, listening half-heartedly to what Kisamoa was instructing them to do. However as he mentioned bones, her ears perked up and Tae gave him her full attention. Bones? she thought to herself, her cunning smile widening. Now why would you want those

Bones were her thing. She and Grusha's, anyways. If anyone was going to be collecting bones and piling them, it would be them ... though perhaps if the Helovian's were going to try and stockpile them she and Grusha could take advantage of their generosity.

Tae's pale eyes flashed as she searched the group for her twin, hoping to see her blue-eyed counterpart amidst those assembled. However like before, Grusha was no where to be seen. Biting her lip, Tae stood silently, returning her eyes to Kisamoa. 

We're speeding through red lights into paradise
'Cause we've no time for getting old
Mortal bodies, timeless souls
Cross your fingers, here we go
Image Credits

Tarik Posts: 32
Dragon's Throat Stallion
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1 :: 7 (immortal)

Tarik was pulled from slumber by a voice in his head. For a minute he thought he was still drunk and merely hallucinating, until his head began to throb with the familiar sensation of a hang-over. Clearly he wasn't still drunk.

With a groan the stallion rolled over on the sands, shaking his head as if that would help to alleviate the voice which seemed to be calling to him.  "Fuck sakes." He rumbled grumpily as the voice persisted. Looking around the beach, he saw neither heads nor tales of his brother or Huldra. Heaving a heavy sigh, the viking picked himself off of the bloody sands, stretched, and then decided that likely the best way to get rid of this damned voice was simply to find out what it wanted.

Walking slowly, but finding that there were many others seemingly headed in the same direction, it didn't take Tarik long to find his way to the Rotunda, and to Kisamoa. The viking was shocked to see such a beast, and he narrowed his eyes mistrustfully, glancing around to see if Huldra or Ralik were nearby. He saw neither (and neither did he see Sohalia, though the thought of her caused a smile to creep onto his features).

This ... thing addressing them did not seem to draw startled gazes from anyone else around, and so Tarik assumed that either the creature was harmless, or was one that they were well acquainted with already. Deciding to keep his thoughts to himself, the man just listened, finding no rhyme or reason why he should bother to assist with this task set before them.

There's a feeling I get, when I look to the west, 
and my spirit is crying for leaving. In my thoughts I have seen
rings of smoke through the trees, and the voices of those who standing looking. 

Shida Posts: 109
Deceased atk: 3.5 | def: 7 | dam: 6
Filly :: Unicorn :: 16 :: 3 (ages in Birdsong) HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Princess :: Common Hellhound :: Hellfire Odd
Grab your sledgehammers kiddo's, because the fourth wall is about to get broke.

Now listen. It should be pretty damned clear by now that this shit just don't make sense. Amplified voices? And we're all just going along with it? Let's be real, half of us shouldn't even be here, but it's like some fucking puppet with some ulterior motives is just click clackity-ing away up there, making us do all this bullshit.

And for what? Well, click on your prize list tab boys and girls, and you'll find out.

So we all just go with it. We show up, don't ask the questions that we should, act in ways we usually wouldn't if something wasn't at stake, and then go about our business like it wasn't nothing.

Collect some bones? Oh sure.

Clear some rot? Why not, not like I had anything else to fucking do with my life, but since you showed up and handed out some magic and screamed inside my head, let me just get right on that. So as you've probably guessed, I don't want to be here. I don't give any fucks, and it doesn't make sense for me to be here.

But this is some Westworld shit boys and girls, and I've gotten used to it by now. This is my fuckin' loop in life, and I'm allllllll over it.

"Sho' thing, anything you say boss." I say, a southern accent sloppily spilling out over my lips. Is that insensitive? Probably. Do I care?

I don't know. Puppet master, do I care?

Survey says ... nope.

-mic drop-

Ru'in Posts: 39
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.3 :: 0 - Birdsong

I got guns in my head and they won't go
Spirits in my head and they won't go

The colt, now much more man than boy, followed dutifully.

That was his lot in life, following and obeying. Yet without Romina's prominent presence in his mind and at his side, he'd begun to wander. He found himself farther and farther away from her, both mentally and physically, the feeling was somewhat exhilarating. It was like being perched precariously at the edge of a cliff. It was both amazing and terrifying, and although logic told him that he should step back, that he should find his dainty twin, still he walked along the edge, as if daring himself to find the courage to jump.

There were many who wandered here from the Basin, and Ru'in had no trouble keeping up. His massive strides overtook many, and the voice in his head leading him towards the Rotunda was easy to follow. As he arrived, he was not surprised to see Kisamoa addressing a small group who had arrived earlier. The colt halted, tusks pointed towards the beast as he addressed them, telling him of his plans and finally revealing what it was he needed their assistance with.

Ru'in wasn't terribly interested, and his eyes skirted the crowd, searching first for Romina, and then for the fiery fox-backed girl. It had been weeks since he'd seen her...and yet ... she hadn't left his mind. Swallowing hard, Ru'in tried to focus on what Kisamoa was saying, lest his normally stoney face betray his thoughts.

Oizys Posts: 134
Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 7.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 17hh :: 2 HP: 73.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Ker :: Philippine Eagle :: Curse Snow

O I Z Y S & K E R

The gargoyle is initially in two minds about whether to attend this most recent of Kisamoa's turn up, be enigmatic, give out good swag to everybody but her meetings. Oizys isn't the sort to attest to the once bitten, twice shy philosophy, because she's never shy, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't a bit dubious about Barnacle Bill's intentions. He's creepy, and his portents of doom seem a tad over-exaggerated.

Unfortunately, Oizys' greed, curiosity and dislike of missing out means she moves like a lamb to the slaughter towards Kisamoa's most recent meeting. Ker rides on her back, equally as wary about Barnacle Bill and what he could possibly want with them. "He comes from sea. Not trust." The eagle's voice blasts into the gargoyle's head, but she ignores it. Good swag > a raptor's misgivings any day of the week.

There's already quite the crowd gathered when the stone-coloured yearling arrives. She shifts swiftly to the front, glaring at anybody who might block her path. This time, Kisamoa is fairly upfront about what he wants them to do. Collect bones, get rid of obstacles, generally be the do-gooders of Helovia, all for...what? The filly narrows her cold grey eyes at him, wondering what rewards will be on offer for those who help. Hell, she isn't being anybody's manual labour bitch for no payment, and she assumes a lot of the Helovian populace will agree. For once, though, the mouthy girl chooses silence over questions - she keeps her lips firmly shut, deciding to just do what he asks and reap the reward later. On her back, Ker gives a long, resigned sigh, knowing that this means hard work is nigh.

image credits

[ the gargoyle queen ]

Bartholomeo Posts: 46
World's Edge Protector atk: 5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 7.0
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16'2hh :: 7 HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE

It is a crying shame for the pirate that he wasn't in Helovia when Kisamoa called his meetings in the sea-related places. Oh, how Bartholomeo would have rejoiced to have been granted the opportunity to swim beneath the waves, to dart among the fishes and breathe under the murky surface of the ocean that he so adores! Alas, the stag has to settle for a gathering inland, but it does at least grant him the chance to meet this infamous Kisamoa.

The creature looks like the sea spat him back out; he's like an ocean God from the tales, from the drunken lore written and sung by bards after one too many ales. Bartholomeo looks him over appraisingly, sizing him up and deciding whether to trust him. He isn't in the business of trusting random barnacle-encrusted strangers, but perhaps the man's heart is in the right place. If would be foolish of the creature to alienate dozens of Helovians.

He slips through the crowd, nodding his antlered head warmly at anybody he sees. His usual warm, good-humoured grin is plastered across his face, and his ears are rammed forwards with interest. Kisamoa asks that they collect bones and move obstacles, and the stallion gives a deep huff of contempation. Will the other Helovians trust him? He'll have to think on it before he offers his services - the pirate's mercenary past has told him to do nothing for free. He holds his tongue for now, and listens.

image credits

Kiada Posts: 181
World's Edge Nurse
Filly :: Unicorn :: 16.3 hh :: 2 years - Birdsong
Khairi :: Leucistic Lammergeier :: Paralyze Skylark

There was a voice that rang across the land – rather familiar as she racked her mind about who it belonged to. Khairi had been busy hunting, finally capturing a small mouse in his clutches. He returned with it back to Kiada, his pale head slightly covered in blood, thinking over who the voice belonged to as well. “Kisamoa” was his croaky, cold response in her mind. The filly still hadn’t gotten used to hearing the vulture’s voice in her mind, but regardless of how many times it surprised her, it had an odd way of calming the fiery child.

She tiptoed gingerly toward the gathering, finding the group rather small. And as she listened to what the strange god had to say, she surveyed the crowd searching for her brother. She wasn’t as intent on seeking out the boy as she had been in all the previous gatherings – for he was home, with her, always the face she could wake up to now. And the little charm that hung around her neck, with a little image of Khairi and a spitting image of the colt, seemed to make her feel ever closer to the ashenheart.

As she listened, however, her gaze landed on the familiar figure of the spotted tusked boy – or well, young man he was growing into. The last time she had seen him, they were lanky and strangely disproportionate, yet his long coat seemed to cover anything weird his body might have had whilst his growth spurts. She wasn’t as lucky, with her legs long and muscles filling out in strange ways – but now, now she was just about a year old, and she had filled out and grown some, her long legs filling in with muscle allowing her body to seem more like an agile version of her fathers. Muscle instead of fat, pound for pound, her spots growing and glistening with an almost opalescent hue as she purposefully made her way toward Ru’in’s side.

She gazed up to him briefly under white lashes with mischievous blue eyes and a small smirk on her lips. “Hello, stranger.” She said to him – opposite of her previous nervous persona. This version of herself was confident, in a strange but exciting way for her. Her flames danced as griffons in response to her confidence, while Khairi sat upon her back digging into the little mouse he had captured, covering himself and her own back in a small river of blood. “I think I’ll go get started on some bones, care to join me?” She questioned, stepping a bit further from him and looking back at him from over her shoulder – her ebony tail swaying with the movement.


img || coding by Smitty <3

Mentions @Ru'in <3 she's chatty and a hard flirt rn idk why but yeah HAVE HER.


Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather

The shroud of death seemed to follow them everywhere.
Even as Kisamoa returned, gone from the depths of the sea, extending towards the enigmatic ramparts of the Ancient Rotunda, asking them for bones, to scrub away the filth, the grime, that was once the Spectral Marsh (an unrelenting, eerie place, a burial ground), her heart sunk. Gone were the intriguing rites of waves, foam, and magical, enticing reefs; now they were left to traverse into eventuality, into eternal slumber, into pieces of memories that choked and suffocated. She almost argued, spoke into the gathering crowd, that demise couldn’t just be rid of – it was natural, a part of life (and the image of the Reaper, recently deceased, still intact and stored in his tomb shudders over her, made bile curl in her throat), but remained silent instead. Her soul ached for those doomed to be lifted from their final resting place – for the beasts who’d bowed their heads as they were stuck in a bog they could never escape, for the restless cretins who’d squandered their way into an early grave, for those who’d simply died without anyone knowing their names, their features, or their dreams.
She hung her head, listened, and followed his directions – daunted by portions of the task, hoping to be more of assistance in maneuvering objects, trees, fragments of broken bits, instead of bleached cartilage and bloody fates. Imogen frowned, perceptive and knowing, promising to pick at the more difficult facets of their current expedition, but it still didn’t make the Songbird feel any better. She wondered, very briefly, if they just couldn’t leave the Spectral Marsh alone, down in its resting nook, a graveyard, a crypt, and if there was a motive beyond it – a forest thicker than the trees. Her lips closed together, immersed in quiet reflection, in questions, in observations, that lingered perilously, dangling over the edge.

where there is love, there is life.

image by safetylast @

Glasgow Posts: 127
Aurora Basin Apprentice atk: 3.5 | def: 10.0 | dam: 7.0
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.3hh :: 11 years HP: 66.5 | Buff: NOVICE
to die by your side,
The Glazier had come to the gathering, albeit a bit unwillingly. It was Kisamoa’s call that intrigued her, the way he spoke to her and only her when she decided to follow his lead and dive beneath the surface to gift the creatures of the reef with memories of the dryer side of the earth. She wanted to see what he had this time around, this event that he had summoned them for. Was it to finally do what he originally mentioned? To actually clean things up? Or would it be another turn of events of doing something miniscule. How many times would he disappear and reappear with things that didn’t seem to matter that much?

Or perhaps they all mattered a certain amount. All little things that added up to make a large turning point. Still, she came. Pale blood dipped legs carried her toward the voice, toward the crowd as she stayed silent, the broken piece of her horn tied gently into her tail while the little golden piece she had been gifted by the turtle sat snugly against the broken piece. Now, despite the scars, she felt a bit more normal. Even a bit happier.

She listened to the words the god spoke, of how they needed to clear things out, and she nodded once to acknowledge she heard his wishes before she moved away from the crowd. Glassy gaze dancing around in uncertainty of where to start. Perhaps she could clear bones, or better yet actually do something else useful. She did have the experience from clearing the broken shards of glass around the Edge, anyway. Might as well put it to use.

—is such a
way to die.
image credits

Sunjata Posts: 69
Dragon's Throat Sleuth atk: 4.5 | def: 10 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE
Andikan :: Nile Crocodile :: Scream Skylark

S  U  N  J  A  T  A

Yet again, another gathering that distracted the blue jay. The first few events he had attended were exactly like this one – the strange pieced together god directing orders to the masses of Helovia in the attempts to get them to do things for them. He wasn’t sure what continued to drive him to this – but the gift he received at the giving tree gave him enough insight to appear. Perhaps this weird beast would bestow gifts upon them as well if they did everything they asked. So, with that in mind, the man went.

He listened quietly to the instructions, nodding along quietly as he scanned the area for familiar faces. He barely saw any, though, at this point (not even his sister, whom he hadn’t seen in nearly a season now) and sighed quietly, folding his wings tightly against his back. The gilded band gleamed in the light as he did so, a trinket from the talking turtle that even seemed to have a sense of humor to others as he gifted them.

With all the tasks in mind, he moved away from the crowd, heading in the directions of others to complete what Kisamoa had asked of them.


We slipped into midnight
like the death of the sun.
img credits

Pixel by
Force/Magic permitted so long as it doesn't permanently harm him.
Please tag in every post!

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
Take just what I came for

The prince didn’t wear his usual bout of radiance, shine, or exuberance. Instead, his features were callous and indifferent, tautly pulled across his face to hide the tracks of tears, or the seditious pull of bloodshed. He was rage and fire and insurrection trapped within despondency, and so vast, so molten, so enraged by the pinnacles of his mind’s warfare that even Orsino dared not pulse, speak, or confide. They stalked the horizon out of habit, because if he paused too long his thoughts would override him, chain him to the walls, to the palace, and he’d only be left shrieking, shouting, and bellowing like a manic wolf, like a vicious heathen, like the viper curled and coiled within the denizens of his mercenary heart.
So when Kisamoa called them, pulled his frame from the mountains, they were no longer drummed and serenaded at the sea, but back towards the Rotunda (where he’d once battled a fair maiden, where he’d once practiced warfare on a putrid stag), he followed in silence, in mutiny, daring for something to release him from the constant sorrow of his hollowed sentiments. The boy barely even paused, barely even uttered a single idea, notion, or opinion on picking apart bones (more of the dead, he heard Orsino from far away, like he was distant, like he was uncertain, and the infidel’s mind quickly filtered elsewhere, incapable of staying on topics of death and annihilation), on restoring an old graveyard, an eerie crypt for the damned, that he’d never even seen. His body was numb, his mind crawled, and he merely agreed to the task so he wouldn’t have to think, wouldn’t have to acknowledge, wouldn’t have to be anything other than the miserable General, too young, too stupid, too naïve to believe the world would ever allow him one moment of triumph and glory. 

image credits

Darwin Posts: 74
World's Edge Protector atk: 5.0 | def: 8.0 | dam: 6.0
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 15 hh :: 4 Years (Ages in Birdsong) HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Antaa :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix Skylark
He was nestled warmly in the Falls, Antaa sound asleep curled up in the soft spot of his wings as they slept. There wasn’t much action happening in the Falls as of late, with no gatherings or meetings, nothing aside from the giving tree which had been a pleasant and beautiful surprise among a time of quiet isolation. So when he heard the call from an unknown beast, he stirred from his sleep as Antaa stretched and cooed.

Darwin hadn’t been there for the other events of the weirdly mismatched God, so he was unsure of what exactly the creature called upon them for. When he arrived, he took note of the simple questions and duties that the beast asked of them, deciding he might be better at clearing the trees and other things that blocked the sun’s rays from reaching the earth. If anything, his and Antaa’s fiery power would do well to burn and destroy anything that might block the path.

With that in mind, he smiled gently to the phoenix who hovered on his shoulder. They took a quick look around before turning and heading out toward the places that might need him most, unsure of where it was, but knowing that if he didn’t find it that Antaa would. Together, they’d make quite the team.

It’s like marrow without bone,
to live in a house
with no home.
image credits

Pixel by BronzeHalo @ Deviantart

Permission given for moderate power play.
Feel free to use magic/force on Darwin, without killing him.
Please tag in every post!

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

To say that Volterra does not trust Kisamoa would be an understatement. So far, nothing good has ever come of the sea-man's appearances, save an aesthetic change to the Endless Blue that the beast isn't entirely sure he likes. He is in two minds whether to approach when he feels the familiar pull so long after the previous one, but after a few moments of indecision the stallion eventually feels his limbs being inexorably drawn in that general direction.

To his surprise, this time Kisamoa does not call them to the sea but to the Rotunda, a whole world of difference from the other places he's chosen to haunt. This only heightens the Indomitable's suspicions, and his stride hurries up a tad as he nears the gathering.

His gaze travels first to Isopia, of course. It always does, try as he might to prevent it. His eyes are like the moths to the open flame of her body, and every stolen glance only cements his urge to approach her. Is it the right time, though? A crowded place full of eavesdropping Helovians is not the ideal place to make amends (or for her to flip her shit on him again, which he thinks is a distinct possibility), and he would vastly prefer to have their first post-fight discussion in private. Besides, does he really want to speak to her? He thinks the guilt of their mutual misunderstanding is shared, and he is unwilling to take the full blame in the shape of a grovelling apology just to re-earn her approval. Maybe he should let her make the first move, because after all it was her who almost killed him.

"Don't be bitter," croons Vadir. The great golden dragon is luxuriating across the leviathan's broad back, her tail hanging lazily down his sides. He pins his ears and stomps an irritable hoof just to slightly unseat her, and she hisses loudly. You're talking to ME about being bitter? Every time I even think about Isopia, you fill my mind with so much anger that I almost explode. He turns his head to eye the dragon as he speaks. They'd gone weeks without talking in the aftermath of the fight, with Vadir so infuriated by Volterra's scolding of her for attacking Isopia that she'd almost completely cut him out of her mind. Thankfully they'd made amends, but the topic is still a sore point for them, and Vadir is clearly still bitter about it in every sense of the word.

"That's different," replies Vadir, her voice cold and her scales erect like the hackles of an angry dog. She doesn't elaborate, and the behemoth just snorts his irritation. Fuck it, I'm doing it. Better than letting it fester. Steeling his resolve, he begins to walk towards the Mountain, trying to keep his expression neutral. Vadir hisses her approval then launches into the sky to leave - just because she's encouraged her bonded to speak to Isopia doesn't mean she has to. She's still pissed at both the mare and her insubordinate bronze, and has no intentions of deigning them with her presence.

The warm spot on Volterra's back that Vadir has vacated is swiftly occupied instead by Vérzés' smaller weight. He, unlike his golden sister, is torn about the situation; he's on Volterra's side, of course, but Hubris is also his friend, and he knows more than Vadir about how much Isopia means to their mammoth bonded. He hooks his claws into the black flesh to anchor himself in place and croons his support to Volterra, who approaches the giantess with renewed vigour.

As he does, he hears Kisamoa asking them to collect bones and to get rid of trees that may be blocking light. The Indomitable huffs, swishing his tail against his flanks as he contemplates the words, then slips towards Isopia. God, he'd almost forgotten the raw beauty of the mare - her size, her power, the patterns across her flesh (flesh that he can still taste on his tongue, can still feel beneath him in his weaker moments). He's kept himself busy so as not to miss her, yet he has, and simply being next to her again is like being home.

Suddenly, he doesn't know what to say. Hello? How are you? Murdered any more of my children recently? Instead he opts to skip the potentially awkward re-introductions, and simply launches into his question without preamble. "Do you trust him?" he asks, his voice quiet and intended for her ears alone. If they simply continue into conversation without mentioning what happened, perhaps it can be brushed under the carpet, easy as that....he doubts it, but he lives in hope.

It's Vérzés' turn to be awkward now, as he clambers up his bonded until his face is poking between Volterra's ears. His gaze is fixed on Hubris and he trills questioningly, his spiked tail swishing across Volterra's shoulders - a sure sign that the dragon is nervous. Vérzés is unsure whether Hubris is still his friend, or whether their scuffle has ended that particular relationship for good. He's also still slightly annoyed at the bronze's brutal treatment of him, but he's just as annoyed at Vadir's even more brutal retaliation. Overall the dragon is a mess of confused feels, and every inch of his body says "????" towards Hubris, hoping he may extend the olive branch, or at least grasp hold of the one Vérzés is tentatively offering him.

Volterra shuffles, then looks back to Isopia with a softening of his stern features. "And, are you?" His voice is gruff, yet full of feeling.

dragons: iconian fonts.dafont

Oops suddenly essay @Isopia

[ 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 ]

Aelfwine Posts: 101
Dragon's Throat Warrior atk: 4 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 6 years HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Vanya :: Common Cerndyr :: Lamplight Skylark


The dappled doe was quiet as she followed her pirate brother. She hadn’t strayed far from his side upon his entrance to the land – aside from spending time with Tilney and her niece, she didn’t seem to travel in places where she knew that when she returned to where she saw Bartholomeo that he would still be there. So she arrived quietly behind the stallion, watching for his initial reaction to the creature that looked as though the ocean decided to put all its pieces together as some sort of mutant beast. She situated herself up a bit toward the man as he came to a stop while Kisamoa began to speak before stepping alongside him and dipping her heavy crowned head to him with a smirk.

I told you he existed.” She giggled quietly under her breath, grinning as her emerald gaze darted to the beast as he spoke of what they needed to do. She listened along to the tasks at hand, wondering curiously what Bart would do and if she should try spending time with others and avoid the task he chose. She needed to meet others, that was for sure. Ever since her time with Bart, she’d turned into quite the recluse. So as Kisamoa spoke, she scanned the crowd searching for familiar faces, unable to pick any out from the ever growing crowd.

So quietly, she stood alongside her brother waiting for what the task he decided to do before she decided to try something else, to wait and see exactly what kind of things it might entail. She wasn’t much one for breaking down trees, or gathering bones, but perhaps she could be of more use in the water. Her cloven hooves could prove useful in knocking stones off of each other to make way for more water to engulf the location.

Roses hang like paintings of you
Oh, How beautiful you are

Pattern Credits || Pattern Credits || Image Credits

Mentions @Bartholomeo

Nyx Posts: 292
Deceased atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 11 HP: 72 | Buff: SWIFT
Dominus :: White Lion :: None Snow

There's something sheepish about the mare's posture as she glides into the gathering like a silver wraith. She has been racked with guilt recently, ever since the argument with Rexanna at the end of a similar one of these meetings. Try as she might, she is unable to shake the embedded sense of shame at her actions and words, at the way she'd used things told in confidence as weapons to harm a woman who, truthfully, had done her no wrong.

She feels terrible - more than terrible. That, coupled with the recent loss of Arakh and Esinakh to the grasp of the Throat, means that Nyx's mood is lower than it has been in quite a long time.

Empty nest syndrome, it's probably called. She feels pointless, useless. She knows that she should be doing things around the herd, sparring or recruiting, yet she simply cannot bring herself to when she's so depressed. When the ironheart isn't thinking about her children, she's thinking about poor Rexanna - and the word poor is not one she would have applied to the golden mare before their meeting. Dammit, the shame is all-consuming, and Nyx can hardly stop thinking about it. For all her flaws, she likes to think that she is A Good Woman overall, not one who causes harm for harm's sake.

She pauses before Kisamoa, listening to what he's saying. Gather bones, get rid of trees, generally clean up Helovia...there's a certain irony to that, thinks Nyx with a humourless smile. She has never felt more filthy, yet she has been asked to apply her strength to what seems like a thankless task. Still, perhaps it will help her keep her mind off things, keep her motivated so she doesn't simply wither away to a childless, pointless object.


Other characters have permission to use magic/violence against Nyx at any time.

Serenity Posts: 78
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15 hh :: 7 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE

The voice in her head made her falter, wings becoming unsynced and she fell a couple feet before regaining the proper pattern needed to maintain flight. In her surprise--her fear--she missed the generous introductions made. She was brought back to hazy memories of demons speaking straight into her mind, bypassing the formalities of speech and stealing her right to privacy; she hadn't dare thought anything more than of the weather in their presence. So she stilled her mind as she had done then, nothing filtering through but the words of whoever spoke. Another demon? Some other godly creature she had yet to meet? She didn't want to get caught in a place she couldn't escape, so instead she kept to the skies and flew toward the direction the voice indicated.

She didn't know of what he spoke about--death? restoring lands?--but she listened because it felt important. When reaching the sight of the speaker, she circled above and watched as others heeded the call as well. She hadn't been alone in hearing the words, and it eased her worries slightly yet she was still unsure of who the being was that rallied them. He asked for help though, and as some moved away at the end of his speech she figured she should partake as well; perhaps something they did would help to fill in her missing pieces.


html @ tamme


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