the Rift


conceit of deceit [SNEAKS]

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#1

As I’d said I’d do (but not without some measure of mental griping) I pull aside from the herd meeting, towards the tent constructed, specifically, for those who worked in shadow.  Silenced by my father’s magic, freely given for love of the land, I wonder if his story, if any of their stories, are being properly told to those who filter in, unaware that this land has stood for as many years as it has, an unobstructed chain of command transferred from one native, to another.
 
Sure, parts of it had changed, I think, settling halfway into the blue tinted, quiet shade of the tent, halfway out, so that my body holds the flap open for my spies and thieves to enter, and the Tallsun light makes obvious my presence here.  Things in this herd like, primarily, who it consisted of, and other changes, like what this tent was actually being used for now. 
 
How long had it been since someone had plotted the death of another, in its clandestine walls, or the fall of an enemy’s empire?  Too long, I’m sure, just like it had been too long since anyone had cared to notice the waste of unwavering, twin warriors, rusting on their borders. 
 
I nod to each of my compatriots as they arrive, following in what seems to be the last of them coming from the major cluster of individuals who had gathered to Tiamat’s summons.  Moving towards the center of the tent (leaving ample room for my winged co-leader, to make sure her wings won’t touch me), a trail parts within the faintly illuminated, dust motes trailing through the enclosed space as I pass.  I stand near the center post, my buck arriving from outside to stand with me, just as I begin to speak.
 
"Welcome.  I am Rikyn, for those of you who may not know me.  I’m not nice, and I’m not patient, but I do care a lot about my home.  Any of you who put it or anyone who lives here at risk can automatically consider themselves on my shit list," while I’ve looked pretty serious until now, the expression becomes a smile, mostly because, well, I know you can’t yell at them the entire time, having learned a thing or two from my mom, "I don’t think we’re going to have that problem, though.  You all are pretty clever, yeah?"
 
Duir rolls his eyes.  They going to think you’re an ass.
 
I am an ass, buddy.  They’d better get used to it.
 
"Regardless, our job is to make sure our soldiers don’t have to muss up their hooves fighting fights we can resolve out there," I gesture with my horn to the general everywhere but here, "by keeping a careful eye on all political and global situations which might bring trouble to our home.  While taking stuff is fun, and armor and weapons are always desired to bolster our soldier’s viability on the field, every one of us should consider our primary job to be getting valuable information in enough time for our leaders to make use of it."
 
"Our primary target of interest is, of course, Kaos," I continue, pausing to look around at those gathered for a reaction, "I would like to gather a small party of interested individuals to thoroughly search the beach for any evidence that might lend us deeper knowledge into how to defeat him.  Those of you who are interested in joining the search parties will find my contingency at the southern-most point of the beach, and the General’s along the border of the Marsh itself.  Either group will welcome any who wish to help, I’m sure."
 
"In the mean time, practice your skills here, among friends," I smile, a Cheshire thing, because only a rogue like me would come up with such a devious plot to train his men and women in art the subterfuge, "trail your herd mates without notice, and learn their secrets, or their daily patterns.  Find a stranger in the wilderness and glean as much about them as you can, without revealing anything true about yourself.  But, most importantly, keep your eyes and ears open, and behave."
 
Are you telling them, or yourself? Duir laughs.
 
Oh, shut up.
 
"Do you have anything to add, Imogen?" I ask with a smile, finding it weird addressing a woman, not a kitsune, as such.  

[ Please let Imogen reply first.  Anyone is welcome, especially those interested in taking up a Sneak rank!  This is a non-mandatory meeting that will earn your character points in our seasonal contest, as well as provide them with some awesome IC information.  It is taking place in the Secret Tent, which should give you additional points (Reli will correct me if I'm wrong), so long as you mention its fabulous blue cloth and magical soundproof-ness in your post.  Otherwise, thank you guys for the honor of being one of your Thieves, and let's have some fun! 

Rikyn will reply 1 week after Imogen's post date.  Characters must be here before then, or the meeting will continue on without them. 

The patrol thread has been posted HERE. Be there or be square. ]


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Imogen Posts: 24
Aurora Basin Thief atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.3 :: 5 years HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Reli
#2
From her perch upon the mountainside, Imogen watches the dark beast move below her—directing the crowd of scouts, spies, and pilfers in their herd towards the forefront of the Basin. The woman purses her smoky lips before she follows, unfurling her great wings from her sides and leaping off of the narrow ledge on which she had hovered, a scattering of stones dribbling down the rocky gradient in her wake. Riding the highland air currents, she glides above them, a swan and angel above the devil’s horns which sprout grotesquely from their brows.

Soon her beady eyes catch their destination—a tent just ahead, a color of blue and artistically decorated, that stands out conspicuously against the dark greens and browns of the forest, despite its apparent nature for deceit and secrecy. Allowing herself a final snarl towards the sky above, the winged woman prays for strength before the length of her wings fold, guiding her in a swift dive towards the ground below. With movements that have long-since been practiced and honed to a perfect dance, Imogen suddenly unfolds her dark wings just in time to alight in front of Rikyn, her golden hooves touching the cold earth with a dainty grace that belies the adrenaline coursing deliciously through her veins.

Being the last one to enter, aside from her fellow Thief, the pegasus offers the stallion a coy smile. “Such a gentleman,” she purrs as she walks past him and through the flap he holds open, her slender hips swaying coquettishly beneath the gossamer drape of gold. Settling in the center, like a queen among her subjects, Imogen holds herself proudly. Still, she allows Rikyn his stage, watching him like a cat in the shadows, figuring him out. (What face will she put on for him, and the others, today?)

With one dark-rimmed ear trained on the unicorn while he speaks, her piercing eyes roam slowly over those who have followed them. Wordlessly she studies their faces, trying to glean what little details she can from their postures, while keeping a carefully-constructed expression of bold neutrality for herself. They need not know how their horns make her stomach churn and her throat burn with venom—they need not know the huntress among them, not yet. Patience, she croons to herself, while her eyes flicker towards Rikyn when he addresses her.

Sighing a measured breath through her nostrils, Imogen regards them all with an expression that hangs between scrutiny, astuteness, and detachment. “Only that you can be sure I will be watching you—all of you,” she proclaims simply, seeing little need to add much more to Rikyn’s speech for now, more content on dissecting each of them (and her eyes pierce them, every single one, as though she is speaking to them directly). “I’m eager to learn what faculties have shaped the northern people,” a smile curls her lips, and while there is no need to think it is anything but encouraging, perhaps there is something about it—the keenness of her eyes, the way her teeth are bared just a little too much—that might put them on edge.

“Speech.”
imogen
Nothing but lies and crooked wings
open your wings, evil angel

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please tag Imogen in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

Toulouse Posts: 146
Aurora Basin Impersonator atk: 8.0 | def: 11.0 | dam: 4.0
Gelding :: Equine :: 17hh :: Six HP: 74 | Buff: ENDURE
Boomslang :: Green Ratsnake :: Paralyze Neverrmind
#3

'   and i am not the same   '


Toulouse could fill a great volume of things he'd rather do than attend another meeting, specifically one where he would behold his comrades and usperiors for the first time. He really did not look forward to viewing the unlikely display of thieves the Basin was sure to harbour, though, he had heard that they were among the best. A thieves landing of sorts, perhaps.

To a funny blue tent he was directed, and so with a nod to Glasgow and the bearded haruspex the gilded gelding made his trek down the slope.
He prayed that he would blend in; that no one would even notice his strikingly new face amonth thr crowd, but he knew that was a huge wish and an unlikely ask. With his thick, coil-like hair and pelt shinier than a lakes surface, toulouse was sure to stick out like a sore thumb.

After approaching and poking his crowned head through the tent flaps, Toulouse noticed that he was, in fact, the first to arrive. He had hoped to come late, and therefore sneak in while everyone's eyes remained affixed upon the speaker, thus avoiding any sort of ridiculous introductions altogether. Pale eyes glancing from the peculiar stag and his buck at the inside of the tent, to the winged woman who accompanied him, his brow firmed ever so slightly. Something about the tent did not make much sense; an enchantment lay over it. Sound proofed? He prayed there were no kind of recording crystals, though he would take his hat off to them for trying.

When others shuffled through the opening, Toulouse merged to the front to make room and to avoid any uncomfortable eye contact, his hooves scuffling along the floor.
Listening to Rikyns speech, he was curious to find that their plans differed greatly from the kind at his former home. He wondered if either thief knew of his former ranking, or were interested in the valuable information obtained over the months and seasons spent as a World's Edge Specter. Still he remained silent, calculating and watching.


art: © x coding: © x
I AM THE KEY TO THE LOCK IN YOUR HOUSE—
DO NOT CRY OUT OR HIT THE ALARM
YOU KNOW WE'RE FRIEND TIL WE DIE—

EITHER WAY YOU TURN, I'LL BE THERE
OPEN UP YOUR SKULL, I'LL BE THERE
CLIMBING UP THE WALLS

SO LOCK THE KIDS UP SAFE TONIGHT
CLOSE THE EYES IN THE CUPBOARD

Albrecht Posts: 249
Aurora Basin Impersonator atk: 6 | def: 8.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1hh :: 19 (Orangemoon) HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Strom :: Suma Ball Python :: None Townsen
#4
Albrecht
More sighing and eye rolling follows the slow dismantling of the main gathering, their larger whole breaking into smaller subgroups determined by job description. Throwing himself around to follow the newly named Theives, likely bumping into and pushing past those still lingering at the rear of the original meeting, the old stallion huffs and puffs his way toward the Secret Tent, trying not to think about the small portrait of multicolored foals galloping across its far, outer surface, his muzzle itching as if the paint is still smeared across his nostrils, drying and flaking from his skin.

He passes beside the Asshat on his way in, choosing that particular moment to blow his nose, loudly and with more force than is absolutely necessary, though he does lower his head to avoid fully spraying the younger stallion – and anyone else unfortunate enough to be standing nearby – with expelled snot, saliva and whatever other brands of bodily fluid and worldly grime have accumulated in his airways.

He sets himself up with a cattywampus stance and an inattentive expression, fully expecting the new sneak Heads to be as uninspiring and disinteresting as the past rank holders, but to his surprise – and for a second time this season, recalling Erebos’ recent commendable handling of the General position – he finds his resentment faltering in the face of what is actually being said and done, his ears tipping to the sound of determination, purpose, possibly even a suggestion of fun in the younger stallions words.

His lower lip juts, almost disappointed by the lack of criticizable material here, though he’s sure to rub against the prominent scar at his left shoulder whenever those gilded eyes stray in his direction, particularly when a mention of behaving comes up. When the winged mare steps up to toss her two cents into the pot he merely smiles, quite consenting of such a figure keeping watch over his shoulder. Only a passing glance is spared for the other stallion in attendance, the old black recalling seeing him once at the Blood Falls, though they'd not interacted.



"Alby talks."
The Asshole
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Roland Posts: 230
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Glo
#5



Uneasiness settled in the pit of Roland's stomach as he followed at the heels of the newly crowned Thieves. It had been so long since he'd lived amongst a herd, known what it felt like to operate as one component in a machine, a part of a community. He could only guess at what had changed within the Basin, and how quickly he might pick up their new customs, how soon he could fall into step with their practiced rhythm and familiarize himself with any new conventions they had adopted in his absence.

They approached the towering structure of a tent, conspicuous against the backdrop of earthen hues and snow capped mountains. A blue cloth swept over its foundations, shielding whatever it held within from the prying eyes of outsiders. Roland ducked into the shadows within, welcomed immediately by a sensation he could not put a name to. It felt calming, shielding, as if everything beyond the fabric walls had been shut out, or perhaps, that everything inside was sheltered, kept safe and secret.

Rikyn's voice cut through his speculation, drawing the Phantom's gaze to the front. He hardly recognized the dark stallion that stood before them. Gone were the gangly legs and youthful energy of a colt, replaced by a sturdy frame and confident posture. He seemed to have fallen into his new role with surety and ease. It was surprising, to see him all grown up and standing before them. Last Roland had heard, the boy and his mother had vanished from their lands. He couldn't be sure if the stallion would recognize him in return. It had been many years.

Whatever had transpired in his past, Rikyn seemed to carry no remnants along with him. Roland had to suppress a smirk of amusement at the Thief's introduction, establishing what seemed to be a no-nonsense sort of rule. He spoke sense, no matter how firmly it might have been worded, and it was comforting to see he already held a solid grasp on his duties, to witness him lay the groundwork for their future, and Roland felt heartened at the prospect of what might lie ahead. The chance to sink himself back into a once familiar practice could not come soon enough.

With a last demand, Rikyn handed the helm to his counterpart. The pale mare that stood at his side was unfamiliar to Roland, another new face he had yet to become acquainted with, but that was not the only thing of note about her that inspired intrigue. A pair of ashen wings were folded at her sides, a feature he had never before witnessed, displayed so freely, within the Basin. Had they changed their ways since he had last lived among them? It would be a refreshing development, to see all welcomed and regarded as equal under their new leadership.

Imogen addressed them with an icy counter to Rikyn's fire, adding little to his speech. By the way she spoke, it seemed she had not been with them for long, and was not as benign as her delicate appearance suggested. The mare's gaze swept across them all as she concluded her brief introduction, eyes piercing, scrutinizing, and the Phantom studied her in return. He knew he had neglected his own duties as a Thief before his sudden departure, and could only hope the two of them would uphold their duties more effectively than he had.


Push your luck if it makes you a promise
that turns con men honest.

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Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#6

Not sure what to make of the svelte woman who serves alongside me, even as the meeting unfurls, I train my attention on her words, which are few. Something, however, about what she says, how she says it, makes me look at her, as the quiet few gathered allow silence to grow after Imogen and I’s statements.

I wonder if they noticed it too, and curse my youth for not being able transcribe it like some did the glances of others; all I see is a dark smile, one that should accompany a thread, but a part of me still wants to inquire more of her. Pulling my gaze away from where it has roamed, looking back out to the men of night and shadow who have followed the wicked bird and I into the tent, I wonder what they think, with their silence, and their eyes.

Albrecht, staggeringly silent, perhaps bothers me the most. I’d certainly expected to be ridiculed or mocked, but from the look on his haggard face, and the gentle touches he lends the shoulder I’d pierced in rage, he hasn’t forgotten what transpired between us, either. Yet, moving from him, to the pale stranger with something peculiar embedded in his gaze, to the familiar, tall chestnut who had always seemed to haunt the evergreens, and the shadows of this place.

He had been me once, I think suddenly, meeting his eyes with a familiar, and somewhat wary smile. What now? That glance almost asks; a fleeting appearance of the lost boy I hide behind pride, and confidence. A glimmer of who I really am that vanishes as soon as it arrives, and I’m embarrassed that I’d faltered at all, or that the silence has extended this long.

Say something, they’re giving up on you.

Oh, shut up, Duir!

"If anyone has anything to report, now would be a good time. I'm sure you have noticed by now that the tent seems peculiarly quiet; the reason being that the cloth is enchanted for silence. Nothing you say will escape the confines of this room," I continue and cover up with knowledge ('cause it's power, right?), looking about awkwardly, wondering if anyone noticed that maybe I didn’t have this as in the bag as I could (should) have; regardless, I've spent a lot of time, alone, in the woods. That has given me ample opportunity to come up with some ideas, which required more than just me and Duir to see to fruition. At least I now had other people, right? "otherwise, I’m planning something a bit more fun, the next time we meet. Aside from working on your tracking and stealth skills, it may also be a good idea to brush up on your logic between then and now."

[ Thank you guys for coming! <3

Any IC information you feel your character knows which would be viable to the herd's leaders can be shared at this point. Otherwise Rikyn's next reply, one week from Imogen's, will conclude the meeting! The patrol thread is otherwise still active, and will be open for participants until the 5th. I'm drawing a headshot for the winner of a random roll at the end of the thread. Anyone who participated through the entire thread and made the time limits will be included in the roll. ]



Art by Esa82@DA

@Imogen @Toulouse @Albrecht @Roland

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Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Imogen Posts: 24
Aurora Basin Thief atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.3 :: 5 years HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Reli
#7
As the blackness of her keen, beady eyes sweep around those gathered within the blue tent, Imogen is well aware of how different she is from the rest of those who share her rank. They are all towering, horned (brutish) men—and she, at the eye of their assembly, a petite woman with perhaps more grace and elegance than the rest of them combined. She finds herself holding back a simper. More than strong enough to hold her own against a swarm of stallions, the pegasus holds herself proudly, regally, with the line of her jaw rigid and her eyes piercing.

What a motley crew we have here, the huntress thinks wryly to herself, her gaze roaming over each of the males while they absorb Rikyn’s instruction. From a man nearly as effeminate as herself, draped in colorful silken fabrics that complement his lustrous blonde locks, to an elderly stallion who could be as old as time itself, with his scraggy figure disheveled and his red hair knotted and unkempt. There is a third man, plain and unassuming, though perhaps Imogen’s stony eyes linger upon him the longest before her attention flickers back to her unwitting comrade.

He continues after a long pause (not out of hesitation, it would seem, but rather by the simple lack of a certain confidence that comes with previous leadership), and enlightens the rest of them about the structure in which they stand. So it is an enchanted tent. Imogen finds herself genuinely surprised by this bit of information. With a new spark of curiosity highlighting the sculpted lines of her face, she glances around at the painted blue fabric.

The huntress still has many things to learn about Helovia, its customs, and its people. What of the magic here? And what of their gods? Naturally, the pegasus is highly skeptical of the Helovian deities—or any deities but her own, for that matter—because there is no gospel truer than that of the Old Religion. It is a doctrine which she, as the last High Priestess, must uphold. With this thought, she can’t help but narrow her eyes, just slightly, as she looks around at these dastardly lowly unicorns. It is here, in the northern mountains, that she will begin to find answers to her many questions.

“Speech.”
imogen
Nothing but lies and crooked wings
open your wings, evil angel

image
please tag Imogen in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

Toulouse Posts: 146
Aurora Basin Impersonator atk: 8.0 | def: 11.0 | dam: 4.0
Gelding :: Equine :: 17hh :: Six HP: 74 | Buff: ENDURE
Boomslang :: Green Ratsnake :: Paralyze Neverrmind
#8

The gilded gelding stood silently, calculating his words and remarks as the leaders spoke their parts. Their approach to stealth was entirely different to the kind enforced upon himself and the sleuths of the edge, in fact, it was the opposite more or less. In a way this excited him, causing his lips to twitch into a smile. The other two stags who shared the company of the tent were a slightly unlikely pair, with the chestnut unicorn being the only one he might consider being of any use. The other looked like he could simply collapse and gasp his last breath at any moment; was he really in the right place? or was he simply a geriatric who had lost his way?

Glancing over the rather unlikely team, Toulouse cleared his throat in preparation to speak up. "Rikyn, Imogen" The gelding murmured, then clancing to the winged woman who's face appeared more snakish that the serpent coiled upon his horns. "I am unsure if the Lady Tiamat mentioned that until very recently I held rank at the World's Edge as their specter. I have a wealth of intel on the west and it's operations if you'd be interested in interviewing me" he offered, slowly merging forward as he spoke. "Also, a circlet I recovered from an outcast thief has been returned to the lady; I have reason to believe it was stolen from one of the thieves phantoms?" He spoke, tossing his gaze to the smelly old man and the rather dashing unicorn, wondering if they had misplaced their circlet.  



I AM THE KEY TO THE LOCK IN YOUR HOUSE—
DO NOT CRY OUT OR HIT THE ALARM
YOU KNOW WE'RE FRIEND TIL WE DIE—

EITHER WAY YOU TURN, I'LL BE THERE
OPEN UP YOUR SKULL, I'LL BE THERE
CLIMBING UP THE WALLS

SO LOCK THE KIDS UP SAFE TONIGHT
CLOSE THE EYES IN THE CUPBOARD

Roland Posts: 230
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Glo
#9



There had been no opportunity for Roland to pause and question Lena at their reunion, no chance to learn what had transpired in his absence. Since his return, the Phantom had not strayed far from the comfort of his old cave, or the snow capped cliffs where he could wander in peace. He had yet to discover what he had missed, and there was so much information he yearned to gain, so many puzzle pieces yet to be connected. There were too many unknowns, and when Rikyn called out a request for information, he could offer none of value.

The winged mare did not chime in with more demands, though Roland felt the weight of her gaze upon him in the silence that followed. He did not falter under it, having nothing to fear, or to hide, from his superiors, though he had to wonder if something about him had caught her interest. Try as he might, he could not shake the suspicion that his disappearance may have earned him criticism among his allies. He had never been fond of the spotlight, even when the attention was positive.

In the wake of Rikyn's appeal, the palomino stepped forwards. He spoke in a quiet, gentle tone, a stark contrast to the loud, quick confidence of their leaders. While he seemed to have much to offer, it was not the report on his former position in the Edge that garnered the most interest from Roland. His heart leapt into his throat at mention of a circlet, his circlet, that had been stolen from him no sooner than he had last recovered it. "I believe that belongs to me," he replied abruptly, drawing further into the tent with eager steps. He had only just received the trinket from Lena when it had been taken from him- not lost- as it had first tumbled into the autumn shadows in the chaos of a hasty departure,  but stolen, though he had not been able to discern the identity of the thief. Roland had cursed himself for not guarding it as well as he should have, for letting it slip out of his grasp when it held so much value, so much sentiment. It was a relief it was back in friendly hands, that it had not vanished forever.

His gaze flicked towards the Thieves that stood before them, quick to recover from his initial excitement. "I have been away for some time. I do not believe the information I gathered in my absence will be of any use to us, but I am at your disposal," he offered with a dip of his head, ever courteous, and turned a smile of gratitude upon the decorated gelding. Roland was eager to have the circlet back, to feel its weight once more against his brow, secure around his horn. He would have been lost without it.
 

Push your luck if it makes you a promise
that turns con men honest.

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Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#10

Imogen remains quiet, which I guess is fine. It is, after all, a key talent of our skill group, silence, just usually not in meetings. Besides, if she’s not saying anything, it means I’ve said plenty enough, and maybe that, well, she has nothing left to say. Smiling, quite proud of myself, I cast my eyes out on those gathered in the cool of the tent, finding that only one of the gentleman beneath the blue fabric has much to say.

The stranger, interestingly enough; I look towards the effeminate male with eyes that don’t necessarily judge, but don’t really understand, either. From the sheer volume of his softly curled hair, the gentle simper of his gentle, smoky voice, I’ve never met anyone quite so flummoxing genderless before. Only the rise and prominence of the bones in his face purely identify him as male, or, at least, mostly so, and even then, I am left with the faintest glimmer of wonder.

Why does it matter? Duir asks, and, not sure why it should, I move on – made easier by the topic at hoof. Information, huh? It’s awfully tempting, and I’ll probably take him up on it. At the same time, however, I wonder just what sort of person leaves a position of command to be a pee-on in an unknown realm. Is he a spy, sent here to tell convoluted truths, to trick and deceive, while keeping all the real secrets for return to someone else? Is he simply a turn cloak, set to his own ends, building a web on which to perch?

I don’t have time to worry about whether he is a spider or a snitch, however, my eyes drawn to the glimmer of metal which Toulouse draws forth into the dim light.

Laughing at Roland’s reaction to the golden thief procuring his circlet (maybe not the best way to handle it, of course, but the chestnut looks so offended as he steps forward to claim it), I try to stifle my guffaw as best as I can, nodding with a grin at the dappled man when he states he has nothing to share, but his services.

"The more we know of the other realms, the better,"I answer, with a nod, "in that regard, I recently heard rumors that the Hidden Falls has disbanded. Perhaps someone should go investigate? Maybe the former inhabitants left some things of use behind. At the very least, their garden surely has at least a few things ours doesn’t, if everything else proves fruitless."

Looking at Toulouse, last, I add: "I can meet with you this evening, here, if Imogen agrees to the late hour. I have to see to some things first."

They weren’t important. They weren’t even really things, so much as selfish inclinations to spend time doing what I wanted. Maybe I’d just follow around some of the others in the herd some more, watching, or take a nice, long reverie somewhere secluded. No one had to know that though, right?

I’d show back up with some glowing mushrooms, to keep everything illuminated during our talk. That would make it seem more legit… even if they grew en masse in the corners of my chosen cavern.

"Otherwise, keep your eyes open and step light, gentlemen," I grin, glancing towards my winged comrade with a wink, before looking back around at everyone in turn, "and lady, of course."

[ So concludes the meeting ~

Rikyn has asked the team to tail a herd mate or learn a stranger's secrets, or to investigate the former herd land of the Hidden Falls. The Healing Spring which the Earth God made is certainly notable news! The next Sneak event should start April 17th, the day after Easter, lead by Imogen (and your new new Thief) so expect a tag around then.

Thank you to everyone for showing up at the patrol! :'D I'm really proud and honored, and hope you guys are having as much fun as I am so far. ]



Art by Esa82@DA

@Imogen @Toulouse @Albrecht @Roland

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Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).


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