the Rift


[OPEN] an undying dawn [PATROL/INFO GARNERING]

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
Rikyn

 
Duir is happily prancing through the rise and fall of the tide as I watch the wind move the summer’s grasses along a distant hill.  The morning colors the world rose and orange, as if everything looks the way fruit tastes, and even in my continued depression, I can’t help but notice how perfect of a dawn it is.  The roar of the sea, the steady roll of its misty breeze, and the gold lip around everything the rising Sun kisses with his rays fills me with the same sense of wonder that nature can rouse in even the most rancorous of individuals, and as Tiamat had said not so long ago, no, insisted, I am not a bad man.
 
I beg to differ, but that is neither here, nor there.  It’s not up to me to decide who I am, I’ve decided, but for other people to see from the outside in. 
 
Maybe, then, this new routine and sense of responsibility to a herd that would vanish without all our work to hold it together, would be good for me, and that outward image.  It might do little to truly change who I am at the end of the day, but it will, at least, give people some image of me to see other than the wild prince nobody I had seemed to become.
 
Eager to start off our adventure, the first that I would lead, a certain sense of nervousness lies beneath my calm exterior, stirring the dark depths of my emotional state so that I feel as if doom looms about the next corner, to some minor extent, but also like, maybe, today, I can shake away the black clouds which seem to forever extend themselves across my frame of mind.  Regardless, a growing anxiousness builds in me the longer I wait, and the more gulls which rise to the sky, from their nests, voices calling raucously out through the summer sky, so that by the time the others do start arriving, I’m ready to head out immediately.
 
Hooves moving beneath me before we ever go, I do a quick count of everyone, making sure those who said they’d arrive, have, before we set off down the beach.  Giving instructions as we set out, I try to project my voice so that every one can hear over the bluster of the seaside wind. 
 
"The False God first appeared here, so it’s likely there is at least one clue about him to be found," I explain, "regardless, make dual use of your time.  If you see anything which may be of use to the healers or crafters, take them with you.  Otherwise, stay alert.  Strange things seem to happen when groups of Helovians gather, yeah?"
 
 
[ Early morning at the Endless Blue, the overhead sky is clear but for a few drifting, happy clouds, and the bluster of sea scented wind.  Characters who attend this patrol earn points in the contest, and can earn in multiple tiers if they pick up some shells or plants, or get sidetracked with a bit of playing around.  We are here to find clues about Kaos, and for our characters to get to know one another a bit better! Rikyn will be replying again on March 5th. ]
 
 

 
 
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Beloved Posts: 121
Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 8.5 | def: 10 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.3 :: Appears 6 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Orphan :: Ragdoll Cat :: None Bunnie
#2
While, certainly, the witch had pondered trailing after her General and the dark deviant who so often seemed lost in the realms of pitch as she was, she had instead loitered, travelling after a tall boy whom, vaguely, she recalled standing alongside his Lady-mother, as a weak foal, wide eyed and stupid, as all calves were. That he now, too, like the General, had risen to be important by the standards of society’s perimeters and walls, only further instills to the wicked one that mortals are, perhaps, not to be trusted to rule much at all.

Sauntering through the early dawn, eyes narrowed as she glances to the easterly rise of the Sun, the black hearted one wonders why it is they always chose to walk in the light, rather than beneath the Moon’s silver cast. She wishes, for the hundredth thousandth time, that the beacon in the pale blue would rupture into ashes, and submerge the world in a darkness that never lifted. She longs for the storm, and its bleak cloak, which swallows the light away in a swathing of spark and rain.

No such thing comes, however, the bitch arriving before the black and gold man with the Sun to her back. Glaring at the spy with the same reservation she has met her own General with, distrusting anyone too young to truly know their own measure, she is here for one purpose: to watch, as she watches all of them. Sure the “False God” as the brat titles her Divine would dispatch with the motley assortment of warriors, thieves, and thinkers that had meandered along after the General to the Marsh, should they impose upon his Black Altar too greatly, she has taken it instead upon herself to ensure that whatever clues she might find, quickly find themselves erased.

Let the buffoon think she was here to help him, she chortles to herself, the vibrant ring of her giggles sounding out on the beach as she scopes the sand, crooning her head this way and that, her hooves trotting, and kicking free gritty waves of silica. Leaping from shadowy place to shadowy place, meandering in the wandering cloak of the cloud’s shadows cast from above, the Sun bites into her pale skin regardless of her attempts to avoid it, and soon, the maiden of mayhem fears she will be forced into the sea, or the shadow, to avoid the painful peeling of her Sun scalded flesh in later days.

Occasionally discovering a shell, she keeps only the unbroken ones, though admires the jagged, blood hungry edges of those which are fractured, in passing. Otherwise, she seeks scales, perhaps belonging to her Kaos, or tangled weeds, which might have been part of his hair. She certainly does not mind those about her, or seek their company, instead trailing along the outskirts, distant and separate from the rest.


[ OOC: threads with self ]
Beloved
rust every place that I touch

Tag Beloved, please!

Feel free to attack her with physical or magical violence at your own risk. ;D

Wessex Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Haruspex atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 hh :: 3 HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE
Astor
#3

I AM IRON AND I FORGE MYSELF

The sea draws her attention far more than Rikyn’s words - the lull of the lapping waves and the smell of salt in the air whisk her away to a happier time, when she played at stalking crabs and hunting tidal pool fish with a couple of other kids from the court. With a clear sky, the sun beats down on their unprotected backs - and a big girl like Wessex tends to overheat. Look for clues… or stuff for the time menders… same old, same old… yadda yadda yadda. This search for clues would turn up nothing, as per usual, and they would all go back to the Basin, frustrated.

They are at the mercy of a God-like thing, and Wessex privately doubts that he’s left any clues lying around on the beach for them to find. If he can build an altar out of bones and conjure up monsters, he can erase signs of his presence, right?

Ah, but no one asked Wessex. She’s just a grunt.

When the small group dissipates, the horned mare heads straight for the water, sighing in delight as the coolness hits her forelegs, then her chest and shoulders. Turning her head away from the surf and spray, she looks to the shore (not so far away), and sees nothing out of the ordinary. The next wave breaks over her back, lifting Wessex’s hooves off the sandy floor. She laughs a little, enjoying the feeling of weightlessness - it is such a rare thing for one who is, as others say, ‘built like a tank.’

W E S S E X

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-- please tag in all posts! --
-- magic and force allowed, no death or permanent damage --

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
#4
Imogen had been keen to follow her fellow Thief to the Endless Blue. Ever a gatherer of information and hoarder of secrets, the grulla roaned pegasus wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip through her fingertips—and so, far above the others, among the clouds where the air cools from summer’s heat, she joins Rikyn in his little quest.

Unsurprisingly, the smoky huntress is quite curious about this “false god”—Kaos, she has heard the others murmur, hatefully and through their teeth—and what the deceitful deity has done to rouse such passionate ire from Helovia’s people. Her cold eyes roam over the flat sands of the beach, and over the glittering waves of the ocean, but there is nothing in particular that catches her interest. Of course, it would be easier if she had an idea of what she was looking for—and with that thought, she turns her sights to Rikyn.

Tilting the creamy tip of one of her wings downward, the huntress guides herself towards the ground, allowing the salty air currents to do most of the work for her. Aiming to land just in front of the golden-marked stallion, she sweeps her wings outward once she reaches the shoreline, her dainty hooves settling neatly among the warm sands while the length of her silken cloak lies swathed around her feminine figure. Carefully she ruffles her wings before resting them at her sides (a habit to keep any stray feathers in check).

Satisfied with herself, Imogen turns her attention to her fellow Thief. Her black eyes remain pinpointed on him while she closes what little distance remains between them, settling too comfortably at his side, and offering him a smirk swaddled in a thin guise of neutrality (because it is not her intention to prick and claw at any vulnerabilities today).

“What exactly happened here?” She inquires of him with that purring voice of hers, eager to leech more information from his lips. Briefly she allows her gaze to wander. “I was caught up with something else at the time,” she explains offhandedly, her smirk softening with something akin to humor, though a rigidness beneath her tone implies that she won’t be expounding on her reason. There is no need to become distracted now.

“Speech.”
Baby, I’m preying on you tonight
(hunt you down, eat you alive)

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

Weaver Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Corporal atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: 3 years HP: 61 | Buff: Novice
Raven :: Australian Raven :: Terrorize Kyra
#5
Ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies
When there’s fun to be had, she’s not about to be left out. Yes, it’s a patrol for the sneaks really, but others had been invited and how could she decline an invitation to go throwing herself into yet more trouble? It always finds her, no matter where she goes. Or rather, she always finds it. Sometimes she’s not sure which way the relationship works. Both ways, maybe. Somedays, like today, she goes looking for it. Other days it just sort of falls onto her lap.

Today, they are meeting on the beach. It’s is a shockingly beautiful day, despite being the middle of Tallsun. She can’t bring herself to walk, but shifts instead, joining Raven in the sky, moving lazily through the blue day toward to the blue sea. The perk of flying is even moving in lazy, slow flight, she’s still about as fast as those on the ground.

She arrives, circling overhead of the group with a caw of hello. She could talk, but that’s not nearly as fun. Instead, she tries to land on Beloved’s back, beak snapping at the pale mare’s mane in a greeting of hello. In case they weren’t sure she was there, at least Beloved would know now. How many raven’s (or comrades, really) greeted one another by biting? Not many. Probably.

She soars off with Raven, looking for anything of use. There is, unsurprisingly, not a whole lot. Raven starts scouting for plants and shells, making a little pile in the sand. She can feel the greed surge through him as he carefully tucks a few particularly shiny things aside for himself. She tries to sigh at him as she goes back to scouting for clues that probably don’t exist.

weaver

Image | Quote by Charles Dickens

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
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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
#6
For no real good reason, considering he’s upheld a spotless one hundred percent neglect ratio of his duties thus far and come to no ill will among the herd because of it, the old stallion is prodded into following the new Thieves to the Endless Blue, their gold marked leader instructing them to search for clues and resources among the sand and sea while their military counterparts search the Marsh farther south.

Soon after, their small band breaks into singles, some wading into the crystalline water, others tracing its oscillating edge along the shore, using the more solid footing of dampened sand to travel with ease, both respectable choices given that Kaos rose out of this sea and onto this very beach just seasons ago, but the old stallion only stands and watches, bereft of both internal motivation and specific direction, the heat of the unfettered sun washing across his back, warming him and making him drowsy.

One ear turns slowly toward the second Thief as she touches down, his emerald eyes opening fully to watch her wings extend, the smoke and cream of her feathers bending against the resistance of buffeting air, but holding firm, the wind breaking against her outstretched limbs to slow her descent. She folds them away upon landing, shuffling each row of gradient color into its proper place with a final twitch that settles the whole arrangement along her ribs and flanks - her very feminine flanks. The black sighs, an oddly wistful note to the long exhale, his attention abruptly turning from the mare.

Her coat is sleek, the lines of her body smooth and soft, but where once he found this softness alluring, now he finds it somehow lacking. Inexplicably, irrationally, there's almost a perception of immaturity in the roundness of her hips, the petite curve of her jaw. It makes no sense, truly, for her overall impression is one of a mare fully grown, nicely filled out and in good health, but still, he finds himself roaming her features for a hardness, a scruffiness that doesn't exist, only her wings drawing a brief moment of interest from him and those too are wrong - wrong color, wrong size, attached to the wrong body.

Frowning, he steps away, angling not towards the water and the other stealth members, but inland, toward the deeper sand of the dunes separating beach from plain. With another sigh, this one a mix of melancholy and boredom, he shoulders himself to the ground, stretching and groaning as the rough particles scour his back and sides, his companion wriggling from the cotton folds at his chest to copy-cat his rolling, rubbing his scales to a reflective gloss against the heated sands.


"Talk."
OOC // @Imogen because he eyed you super hard. xD

albrecht
I've created a monster,
a beast within my brain.

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[Image: 56c616e54affc]Rated M, R, NC-17, AO, 18+, NSFW
Tag dat azz!  @Albrecht
Violence & Magic okay.
Wish - Away - OOC


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
#7
ROLAND
The sharp scent of salt was always the first thing to hit him when Roland neared the sea, so abrupt and pervasive that it always provoked a grimace on his lips. It was nothing like the pleasant cool breeze that soared over the stretch of sparkling water and swept up rolling hills of sand, nothing like the warmth of the sun upon his skin, or the endless stretch of blue sky, uninterrupted but for a few lingering clouds; instead it reminded him of stormy skies and wind-tossed waves, the heat of fire upon his skin. Try as he might, the Phantom could never shake the memory when he visited the ocean, despite how many years had passed.

A large party had already gathered along the stretch of pale sand when Roland joined them, slipping into their ranks in silence. Ever since his return he had hoped to maintain an inconspicuous presence in attempts to avoid negative attention or nagging questions he could not, or otherwise would not answer, but he had finally begun to relax in the Basin again, and it felt like home in a way that it never had before.

The Phantom observed those already present with guarded curiousity as they scoured the sand and water with diligence, absorbed in scrutiny. The old stallion Roland had seen at their earlier meeting had already retired to the dunes beyond the ocean's reach, making himself comfortable, and of little use, upon the sun-warmed sand. A winged mare soared overhead, riding the thermals with a dizzying confidence that made Roland all the more grateful that his feet were rooted firmly upon the ground, an another had waded deep into the water, a startling number of horns protruding from her flesh.

The heat against his back was a welcome comfort, soaking into his copper skin as Roland made his way towards the water, tracing the oscillating edge of waves as a means of idle amusement. Seashells were anchored within the sand, some buried all except for a corner, while others were spun and tugged this way and that with every rush of water up the gently sloping shore. Their two Thieves were convening not far ahead, the winged mare having dropped from the sky to stand at Rikyn's side. He was close enough to hear their conversation, but did not linger at its edge as an eavesdropper. Instead he gradually drew nearer until he stood just a few paces away, gaze turned upon the dark stallion. Imogen had put into words the very question that had hovered at the tip of Roland's own tongue, and so he added no further inquiries into the mix. The salty breeze toyed with his mane and swept a cool caress across his heated back, offering relief from the hot sun as he waited patiently, in hopes that some light would be shed onto why they had been brought to the ocean's side.



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NPC Posts: 298
User-based Random Event
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#8
Seaside

A young mermaid rests down the beach upon a large, flat stone, her dark, drying curls of hair tousled by the sea breeze, the whole maid colored as deep brown as special dark chocolate from the tip of her nose, to the tips of her tail. Even her scale-free skin is smooth and rich, like lacquered hardwood, and where the light pierces through her earth toned hair, the brown seems almost gilded; ever so faintly, as if each scale had its outermost, thin edge carefully rolled but a millimeter deep into fantastic paints, so that metallic blues and greens shimmer like magical borders about the rich, dark depths of her scaled tail, gills, and fin-ears. These scales shine on the back of her hands, her elbows and shoulders, upon her hips and over the flats and peaks of her collarbone and chest, and the tall rise of her cheekbones, about the oddly wide shape of her round eyes. Her breasts, stomach, neck, inner arms, and face, however, are all plain skin: smooth, and hairless, and seemingly carved from black walnut wood.

Most peculiar, though they cannot see it, is the mermaid’s face. Instead of a nose (what use is such a thing within the sea?), the center region of her face bares only the smallest protrusion, the most diminutive of shapes that suggests, long ago, her kind may have had such a thing, after all. The sea nymph’s diminutive mouth, with almost black lips, that are supple, and perfectly formed, hide three rows of sharp teeth, like a sharks, which are carefully hidden behind what seems to be demure beauty.

Brushing her hair, and singing with the haunting, whale-song and whistle like voice of the merfolk, her torso is turned away from the Basin patrol, and so she does not sea them, nor they her wide, Caribbean colored eyes, or the pale pink and cream shell bra she wears bound about her breast with stands of woven hair. What they would see is the sunlight, shining on her gently waving tail, and the steady roll and slap of the sea as she moves her tail fins in, and out, with the rhythm of her ethereal cries, and the steady movement of her scaled hands brushing the tangles away from her knee length, almost black hair. Her gaze, for all that can be told, is seemingly on the rise of the Sun, suggesting that her time on this beach is likely limited.

Setting her elegant, hand-crafted bone comb alongside her on the rock, and what appears to be a conch shell with a hole placed into its side and the very tip of the shell worn away (an instrument, perhaps?), the mermaid places her palms flat on the stone behind her, and admires the rays of the sun, her song weaving among the cries of the waking gulls.


Tallsun Y8 Sneak Patrol
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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
#9
Rikyn


Noticing a few soldiers arrive over the crest of grass and sky with a smirk, I wonder how many of them Erebos knows to be here, or which of them truly is interested in learning about stealth, rather than getting in on sticking it to some asshole God. I wonder how many of them realize that the ability to get in and out without notice could benefit their soldierly skills – sure, not on the battlefield, but in the instance that they were sent in to quickly and quietly deal with a target, all the muscle in the world meant nothing. Getting to the target in the first place was the hard part, as well as getting back out without leaving too many clues you’d ever been there.

I recall the giggling one vaguely, and eye her with the same wary suspicion my mother had, on the last occasion I’d met her. Another inquiry about my brother’s motley collection rises to mind, watching her dance off down the shore, muttering to herself: Why that one? The others, at least, seemed to have good, reasonable use. Wessex was built like a tank, and the mare flying overhead seems to have enough cool confidence for six women, especially considering her age; both seemed sane, for the most part, also. But a blathering mad woman?

I am shaking my head with Imogen alights alongside me, and Roland closes in nearby. Glancing over at Albrecht (rolling, uselessly, in the dunes), I scowl, wondering why he bothered to come at all if he was just going to pass the time doing what might have been done alongside the lake. Giving anyone further instruction, however, would have to wait; the lady next to me, winged or not, has asked me a question, and it probably benefits me to make sure everyone is on the same page.

"Kisamoa appeared on this beach some time ago, and asked everyone for help in restoring the Spectral Marsh, at the behest of the Earth God. Any Helovian who knows of the Earth God, and his kindness, would believe this request, and most did. He gave no further instructions at that time, but appeared again a few weeks later, with a task," furrowing my brows, I recall these situations with clarity; frustrated with the Gods for having failed me, and my faith in them, I hadn’t dwelled on it too long then, but its me now, again, as it has so many times since, and makes my stomach roil (they weren’t looking out for us, after all, at least none but Her), "most of those who arrived to meet him went down into the sea, using some sort of weird plant to breathe. It was some ways down the beach. I will take you there, next, so you can see what the Moon Goddess made, when she discovered us all, still dripping from our adventure beneath the waves."

Its quite romantic, I might have flirted with someone else, steadily making my way towards the glass tunnel, just as I said I would; might have, because Imogen has wings, and something about her demeanor is off putting. She reminds me of my mother, and, while most people might consider that a complement, they were also not me.

"It was quiet for some while," I continue, "but then, again, Kisamoa asked Helovia for a favor. Any land touching the Marsh was scoured for bones and cleared of other refuse. The bones were delivered to Kisamoa."

I admit now, to myself, anyway, that we were all, well, idiots. Who wants giant piles of bones for anything good?

"He used the bones to create a monster, which protects an unbreakable Altar at the heart of the Marsh, and revealed himself as what he truly is," I pause, for dramatic effect, "Kaos, some unholy, reborn amalgamation of Beast Gods from another dimension. If he really is four Divines in one being…"

How many of us will die, this time?

Lifted from my thoughts of dying mares and weathered survivors, plucked from a realm Ming Yue had described as Hell, the song of the mermaid draws my attention, and I stop, gesturing to the others to do so as well. Watching her for a moment, my dark thoughts fall away for a more humorous one. Even if the mermaid doesn’t know anything interesting (or can’t even speak common – like I’ve ever met one of these things before), it’ll still be great to see the look on her face when she finds herself suddenly surrounded, and her stuff absconded with, right? Gesturing towards the maid and her treasures, I wink at my nearby comrades, and silently try to garner the attention of the others.

Mentally asking Duir to cloak us, he obliges, with a sigh; why not leave her alone? he asks, rather enjoying her singing.

Where’s the fun in that? I reply, with a mental laugh, slowly making my way towards her, and hopefully properly cloaked by Duir’s magic. Keeping my own magic close at mind, in case she does notice us, I plan to grab hold of her thoughts to keep her still until we’re all in place, at the very least.

Regardless, I make my way with silent steps closer and closer, attempting to slip around the front of her, to seemingly appear out of thin air before her very eyes (my ruthless smirk in place) once the others are in place, too.

[ Rikyn tiptoes around the front of the mermaid while using Duir’s companion ability to camouflage himself.

Get that snazzy comb and shell trumpet (it will need a companion with hands or an enchantment to play otherwise)! Anyone with a small item pass for either of these items is welcome to claim them for their personal inventory, but please only one per person to be fair. If everyone wants something (as there are only two mermaid items – unless you want her bra snorts) I’m sure I can work those in also. Just let me know via PM or Discord and I’ll come up with something next round for you.

Rikyn and the NPC will reply again on the 18th! ]




Coding by Tamme - Image by Dingo

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

Beloved Posts: 121
Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 8.5 | def: 10 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.3 :: Appears 6 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Orphan :: Ragdoll Cat :: None Bunnie
#10
Babbling and laughing to herself, the madwoman does not notice the mermaid until far after the others do.  Dropping her collective of shells and driftwood to the beach when she does, however, in a clamorous clutter, the giggling witch halts her laughter, and slips up closer to the three nearest the strange thing.  The Thieves, and the Somber Man, she notes, looking through them as if they are not there, to the singing siren.

Having never seen such a thing, the wicked one is instantly drawn to the shine of her scales, and the rich, dark color of her being.  Having forgotten the bright Sun in her eagerness to devour the maid by sight, the now quivering demoness licks her lips in desire, a yearning rising within her to claim some part of the female creature for her own.  Not the comb, or the shell, but the mermaid, her flesh a fine, supple cloak, or her tail the most treasured of treasures.

Nearly yipping fear at the sight of the gold-marked man vanishing into thin air, the vile maiden contemptuously glares at the empty space for some moments, her breath ragged, and hard.  Though she had assumed his gestures to mean they were forming a unit to slay, the pale mare had also forgotten, entirely, the purpose of this gathering, and the banner beneath which they rode.  Suddenly reminded, her whole soul recoils, rage brewing within her that this would be but a game, and nothing more.

She does not approach the mermaid, thereby, rather remains where she is, insidiously viewing all that goes on without a single plot to intervene, unless it means she will be taking the singing creature as trophy.

[ Beloved stands and watches the foolishness with vast amounts of no fucks given – unless, of course, she gets to kill it.  On stand by for Mermaid Murder ]



Beloved
rust every place that I touch

@Wessex
Tag Beloved, please!

Feel free to attack her with physical or magical violence at your own risk. ;D

Wessex Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Haruspex atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 hh :: 3 HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE
Astor
#11

I AM IRON AND I FORGE MYSELF

What if one of the warriors is there of her own accord, having very little regard for where she ought and ought not to be (Patrol just for Spies, her big ‘ol ass). Is it not better to hide in plain sight, gathering intel under the premise of being ‘just another soldier?’ It isn’t true, of course, but really, Rikyn puts too much emphasis on stealth instead of forging relationships and gathering information that way, or by being the big dumb one, blending in with the background, and listening without drawing attention to one’s self. Granted, by virtue of her horns, Wessex is always likely to draw attention. But if she keeps her head to the ground and acts a certain way, she’s more likely than not to find something of interest.

What doesn’t interest her is the mermaid. Wessex has no use for pretty things, unless she can gift them to Tiamat. Ah, on second thought…

While the cooling salt water ebbs and flows over her body, an odd Nimue-like sound floats through the air. She turns to look for the curious little Leviathan, but can see none - and it is such a flat place, that she should be able to see anything coming. Skipping over the mermaid once, she catches the oddity a second time around. Well, that’s different. If it weren’t for the movement of the creature’s arms, she’d think it an odd shaped, rocky or wooden outcrop purely by its color. A glance around tells her that others have noticed the mermaid as well, and so she turns back to the beach until wading in the surf is easier, and slogs towards the singing maiden.

She has no intention of stealing the mermaid’s baubles, hurting it, or otherwise becoming involved in  yet another unknown situation. She moves slowly, keeping an eye on her herdmates, but feeling no inclination to either intervene or pursue. Wessex already knows she can neither catch the fish-lady, nor sneak up on it. So why expend the energy?

W E S S E X

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@Imogen
-- please tag in all posts! --
-- magic and force allowed, no death or permanent damage --

Weaver Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Corporal atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: 3 years HP: 61 | Buff: Novice
Raven :: Australian Raven :: Terrorize Kyra
#12
Ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies
To her credit, she actually would like to learn about being stealthy. She's clever, but she's not quiet. This fact is entirely by choice, of course. She could be quiet, but that's no fun, so she never bothers with it. But there's something to be said for the ability to sneak around unnoticed. Why do you think she enjoys being a raven so much? No one pays any mind to the birds quietly hanging out in the trees. She looks plain and simple and like every other raven. Not a silver dragon or a gold dragon or a giant warg or whatever else horses in Helovia turn into. She's a bird. A really unassuming, boring ass bird. It's great.

But she can't always be a bird. Sometimes she needs to know how to move in quietly as a horse, too.

Riykn starts talking, and Weaver makes her way back over so she can listen. Shee debates perching on Rikyn's back, but she suspects that won't go over well, so she just circles around above them in lazy circles, not yet in the mood to play at being a horse again. He explains the beginnings of Kaos, a story she's gotten in fits and starts. She'd been here for the end of it. Well, the pause. It's sort of on pause.

And then he decides to steal the mermaids stuff. Yea okay, go back for a sec. There's a freaking mermaid that looks like a candy bar dusted in some sparkling pastel colors. She definitely looks good enough to eat. But she's minding her business and what use do any of us possibly have for a comb or a sea shell? I can go make that shit myself. But of course, Weaver has always been reckless and stupid, and Rikyn has just provided a game.

Do you really think she's not going to play.

She pulls at Raven through their bond, and he already knows what's up without her having to try and explain it through awkward emotions. They've been together long enough, in this life or the last one. He tries to dart in front of the mermaid, pretending to swipe at the comb. He's not going to steal it though, and he's careful to stay far enough away from her that he's not in any real danger. In the end, he's just a distraction. As Raven tries to pull her attention away, Weaver goes in for the shell, trying to grab it with outstretched talons and then get the hell out of there before pretty mermaid turned into a monster. Because pretty mermaid was definitely wearing a disguise. They always are.

[Weaver is dumb and tries to grab the shell while in raven form as Raven tries to distract the mermaid.]

weaver

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Random Event Posts: 1,286
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#13
random event
What's this? A little game?

How nice.

Light, suddenly so intense that it is nearly blinding, begins to beat down on the stained-glass walk-way created by the Goddess and 'Kisamoa' so long ago. But it hasn't really been that long, has it?

As the light slowly fades, a trio of sharks begin to circle the mermaid.

Looks like play time is probably over.



image

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
#14
ROLAND
The heat of the sun turned cold upon Roland’s skin as he listened to Rikyn’s account of Kisamoa. At times it seemed as if they would never be allowed a moment of respite, a breath of quiet. First plagues and floods and discord between herds, what other biblical misfortunes would they encounter, and where were the Gods that were meant to protect them?

If Rikyn had planned on telling them more, it was cut off by the gradual advance of a haunting song, a melody carried on the salty breeze that floated towards them from across sparkling waters. It beckoned, tempted, and Roland’s gaze followed the curve of the ocean in its direction. A dark shape was perched upon the rocks at the water’s edge, gentle waves sweeping the shimmering curve of its unusual tail. Roland had seen a similar creature many years ago, on the very same shores, but it was evident this was not the same being. The hair that cascaded in inky curls down to its knees held nothing of the silver sheen he had seen on the selkie, and its skin was dark and vibrant, shimmering with an array of colours that bore no resemblance to the pale being he had once met. However, this one was no less peculiar. Roland glanced back at his party to see what they made of it. The gilded stallion that stood before him was nodding in its direction with a devilish grin on his lips, evident that he was unperturbed by the sight of such an unusual thing. Before the rest of them could move, the young Lord vanished into thin air before their eyes, and Roland did not need to see his movements to know mischief was the only thought on Rikyn’s mind. Following suit, the spotted mare darted in towards the unsuspecting creature, her raven companion whirling around the shoulders of the aquatic being.

The Phantom trailed after them with an inward sigh, unsure whether to intervene with their childish play, or let them have their fun. Before any of them could make much headway in their game, there was a sudden, blinding flash of light that erupted from somewhere along the shore. For a moment all Roland could do was stumble back, blinking to clear the vibrant, flashing spots from his vision. There was darkness for a moment, pain ringing in his skull, and as his eyes readjusted to the early morning light he noticed dark shapes cutting their way through the water, fins slicing the surface like brandished blades. Roland glanced towards the horned mare wading through the deeper water, at the painted pegasus endeavoring to steal the creature’s possessions, and broke into a run towards the ocean’s edge. “Get out of the water!



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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
#15
Rikyn
Only one of those who’ve come along for the fun manage to join me, before we are rudely interrupted by some sort of magical fluctuation.

Clenching my eyes shut at the sudden brightness, Duir’s startled into dropping his magical guard. Suddenly revealed, the blinded mermaid and I blink away the light to stare at each other for an awkward, split second. She’s surprised and wary, I’m embarrassed and mad at my dumb ass companion, and I can’t say I’ve ever looked into eyes so deep or knowing before, or experienced a super nova up close. It’s so distracting that I don’t have time to be amused as Weaver and her Raven both fly in to snatch the maiden’s things, and I don’t notice that the water has become dangerous, at least until Roland’s shout fills the air, breaking the magical reverie that is the stare the mermaid and I share.

Looking out over the sea, I see the fins, and my heart beats faster. Reaching out with my magic, hoping to stun one of the beasts as they veer towards Wessex and the sea-woman, I follow behind the thrust of my Spark magic with my body. Galloping to the shore, I join the chestnut man in his defensive line along the rise and fall of the frothy water.

While its all fun and games to take the woman’s things, I’m not about to let her get ripped apart by sharks, either – and these ones, well, their more fishy than usual. Most sea beasts didn’t arrive after magical bursts of light, after all.

"Be extra cautious while we fight them off," I tell my herd mates, making sure we’re all on the same page, "these definitely aren’t regular sharks."

I’d like to think the sheer number of figures on the beach would frighten them away, but I guess mermaid flesh is tastier than a unicorn can imagine. Angling my horn towards the water, watching the fins with narrowed eyes, I’ll happily rip whichever of them gets close enough to ribbons, if they decide to test our defensive line.


[ OOC: Operation steal the mermaid's stuff has suddenly become operation punch the sharks to death. :'D As we have been joined by an RE (how exciting!), and the primary objective has changed, I am going to draw for the head shot now, to eliminate complications.

Randomized list order of qualifying characters (exluding my own) was:
Weaver
Roland
Wessex

The winner is:
Wessex
Weaver
Roland


Congratulations @Wessex! I should have your drawing done soon. ]



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

NPC Posts: 298
User-based Random Event
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#16
Seaside
An older maiden would not have been so entranced by the sun that she would be so captured, the divots in the sand from where the unicorn’s invisible hooves stepped easily seen, if she’d been looking, or the sound of their large bodies plodding along, and wading through the water quite carrying, to those who listened. But her singing and the sun lured the dreamy-eyed sea nymph into a state of obliviousness, so much so, that when the black bird suddenly darts in towards her comb, she doesn’t even swipe at it, merely throws her hands to her mouth and quiets a shrill, mermaid scream of surprise.

That does not last long, however; when a second bird actually makes off with her shell, the maid’s hands fall, and her once pretty mouth widens, revealing multiple rows of slender, shredding teeth. With a vibrating, peculiar sound of rage, the maiden’s gills expand on her neck, and she lunges from her rock after the flying birds with snatching fingers.

When the light suddenly bursts across the horizon and all is lost to her vision, her hands uselessly fumble at open air, the birds almost impossible for her to grab if she could see at all, much less blinded like she was. Growling and recoiling against the side of her rock, she presses her palms over her eyes, removing them only when she hears Roland’s shout.

She knows common, and looks out across the water at the beasts jettisoning towards her. With a frightened scream, she fumbles backwards onto the shore, her wet scales gleaming as her translucent, coffee hued fins splash in the shallows. Pale granules of sand cling to her dark arms as she clambers onto the beach, knowing she cannot remain here long, but also terrified of being alone in that water. Fretfully looking at the bird with her shell (her only means to call her friends in the water), she reaches upwards, but her face is not angry, this time.

It’s desperate.

[ Weaver manages to fly off with the shell - but the mermaid can't call for help without it. ]

Tallsun Y8 Sneak Patrol
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Wessex Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Haruspex atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 hh :: 3 HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE
Astor
#17

I AM IRON AND I FORGE MYSELF

So. Rikyn poofs, the game’s afoot, and she spies Weaver’s companion working double time, so that the black and white soldier can try to steal something. She has to hand it to the Pegasus – her companion is useful and clever, which makes Wessex mentally cheer for the pair. Beloved is useless as always, and the fifth member of the party has a similar meandering pace to herself, which she assumes means he’s not going to participate in the light-hearted (debateable) fun.  So it’s not much of a contest, but watching it is entertaining. Taking her eyes off the stalkers, she studies the blue, clear water in search of items that might be useful to bring back to the crafters – Oh! A prickly little round thing. The word for it is somewhere in the back of her head, but she can’t quite remember.

Those spikes (seems like she’s naturally drawn to other spiney creatures) might be useful for needles and other such things. Gently, she nudges the ball out of its home in the sand and with a carefully aimed kick, knocks it onto the dry sand for collection later. A bag would be useful right about now… and it it’s all of a sudden blindingly bright, more than any natural flash or light that Wessex has ever known. Her eyes slam shut, mind screaming that that isn’t natural, and when she cautiously tries to open them again, finds the spots dancing before her eyes a disorienting mess when mixed with the ever moving ocean and the dazzling light it refracts.

Get out of the water! Comes the cry, desperately urgent, loud and… directed at her? Blinking furiously, she scans the outer water and finds three fins cutting through the eerily calm surface.

Not just her, it seems, as Wessex was wading along, not swimming, and it would have to be the sneaky, small shark to come in to water that reached just under her barrel and attack her legs. Nevertheless, she noisily splashes to hock-deep surf, side-stepping to keep an eye on one fin even as it turns towards her. It can’t reach her while she’s mostly on the beach. However… the ruckus over by the rock outcrop draws her attention. Something doesn’t seem right…

The way the fish-woman reaches up – she feels like she’s seen that sort of gesture before. Wessex moves even closer, trying to figure out what it is. The strain, the tension, it’s almost like she needs the bird to come down – but for what?


W E S S E X

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@Weaver  @Roland  @Albrecht  

This is shit, just trying to keep it moving.
-- please tag in all posts! --
-- magic and force allowed, no death or permanent damage --

Weaver Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Corporal atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: 3 years HP: 61 | Buff: Novice
Raven :: Australian Raven :: Terrorize Kyra
#18
Of course it goes after them. Why wouldn’t the mermaid have sharp little teeth and chase them over a shell. She doesn’t actually want the shell, and for a moment she’s tempted to drop it and just end the game. She got the comb, and she could totally get away right now. Perks of flying when your target is land bound, after all. But before she can make up her mind, there’s a flash of blinding light, and both her and Raven and forced to close their eyes, both instinctively heading up because they were the least likely to run into something if they went up.

When the light clears, she is well away from the water at least as the other Phantoms yells for them to steer clear. She looks down, her and Raven circling as carrion birds do, and it’s clear their prey is far from dead. The mermaid too is on the shore, away from the sharks, hands reaching out toward Weaver in a supplicating gesture. She has no idea why the shell is so important, but maybe it can help them, and so she flies over the mermaid, dropping her prize back into the creature’s hands. The shell is nothing to her, after all.

She lands just behind the group, shifting back, muscle and bone ripping and twisting back to her usual form. Damn does that hurt. It doesn’t really get easier, though there are worse pains in the world. She comes back to join the small group as a horse, knowing she’s no use as a bird against three sharks. She takes her place in the line, head down slightly, seven horns glinting in the sun, waiting as the rest of them do. Waiting to see what the mermaid so desperately wanted her shell back for. Help, hopefully, because she doubts they’d be killing three sharks easily.  

[Weaver gives the shell back, joins the rest on the shore and shifts back to a horse]

- weaver -

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Beloved Posts: 121
Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 8.5 | def: 10 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.3 :: Appears 6 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Orphan :: Ragdoll Cat :: None Bunnie
#19
She knows from where the finned beasts come.

Though, first, the white light had struck from her breast the most horrible of screams, her hooves backpedaling against a nearby, porous boulder that digs its numerous, pockmarked facets into her haunches. With a wild toss of her muzzle and a feminine balk, she returns to all fours from the frightened, two legged hobble that had carried her to the stone effacement, her legs dancing beneath her as she clenches unclenches her eyes, to clear the white spots of blinding from their depths.

Beloved regains her vision to cackle with delight; the sharks swim swiftly towards the maid, whose fear stench breasts the salty breeze. Roland’s shout fills the air, and the dark pelted boy demands they be careful, that the sharks are not ordinary. She cackles all the more, her eyes creasing into slits, until tears leak from them, two or three each, and she babbles residual cackles as she waltzes to the shore, her fore-hooves dipping into the water, and her blade shining in the Sun it so rarely met.

"You should all run," she tells them, with a nod of her crown, its angle odd and twisted, at some peculiar forty five; the flutter of wings as the Ravens drop the conch shell back towards the maid of Kaos ushers between her words, "not normal sharks, indeed."



Beloved
rust every place that I touch

Tag Beloved, please!

Feel free to attack her with physical or magical violence at your own risk. ;D

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
#20
So he’d only planned on rolling long enough to get all the itches out when he’d first folded his legs and lowered himself to the ground, but once the old stallion’s sternum presses against the heated sands of the beach his eyes lose focus and his ears flop loosely atop his head. "Nng,” He groans, sweeping his chin and jaw through the loose particles in sheer delight, scrubbing his brows, scooping divots and hills into the dune with is nose and snorting away any shimmering crystals that stick to his nostrils and lips.

Once satisfied with his head, he leans over to one side to press his neck and shoulder into the gritty powder, rocking himself up and back to scour the whole forequarter of body before melting fully over onto his right side, legs flailing, gouging the golden earth and exfoliating the planes of his hip, ribs, and right knee and hock.

His jutting withers present a momentary barrier to flipping over to his left side, but only a moment and even the motion of tossing himself over draws pleasure by rooting the narrow fin of his vertebrae into the sand, relieving dry, dirty skin that would be impossible for him to reach otherwise.

The tactile orgasm continues for an indeterminate amount of time, his motions on the left side mirroring those on the right, his companion also twisting and nosediving and rolling to scrub himself immaculately clean and comfortable on the almost burning shore. By the time the pair stills, the stallion raising his head at last with a satisfied sigh, everything about the scene around them has changed.

There’s a mermaid, sharks, something shining in the distance, and his herd mates are galloping to and fro across the waterline in a confusing pattern. Are they helping the mermaid or hurting her? He wonders in alarm. Does all this have something to do with Kaos? And is he mistaken, or is Beloved wading toward the circling sharks, giggling all the way?

Why does everything have to go shit the moment he tries to enjoy himself?


"Talk."
OOC // Bloop.
albrecht
I've created a monster,
A hell within my head.

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[Image: 56c616e54affc]Rated M, R, NC-17, AO, 18+, NSFW
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Violence & Magic okay.
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