the Rift

[OPEN] We Are Children of Blood & Fire

Reichenbach Posts: 62
Dragon's Throat Guardian atk: 5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7.0
Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 8 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE

D R A G O N ' S



Evening was just beginning to descend as Reich made his tender way toward the Church, a bundle of dainty desert flowers, twigs and honey held delicately between his lips. He'd set most of the party up today with Pippigrin and a few of the children, building up the bonfire so that it stood higher than their tallest citizen - to be lit as the more pious members gave their sacrifices to the Sun God. He laid his delicate bundle beside the pile, licking honey off of his lips as he did so and looking upward as if to see if the Sun God did indeed watch over him. He gave the sacrifice happily, for he'd been treated well by their deity, and was glad to offer him some of the bounty of the earth as both a thank-you and a show of his piety. The night would be a big event, as most of the Throat would be attending to celebrate their God and their life in the Throat. The Sneaks had even planned games for them to test their smarts, and the warriors were offering games of athleticism - for the way of the Throat was a competitive one.

A heady sigh left Reichenbach's throat as his gaze lingered on the unlit bonfire then shifted to the barrels of honeysuckle & primrose liquor they had rolled to stand nearby. There would be headaches in the morning, he was sure of it. When darkness fell he would break open the first barrel - ready for the guests to arrive. While he waited he set about lighting the small torches that lead toward the party, a dancing line of fire that would direct the guests to various areas - the sneaks riddle stone (a wide, flat stone where the sneaks would stage their contest of wits), the gladiator ring (a ring of stones marking out the ring in which playful spars would be conducted) and of course, the Church. He would sing his ballad to the whole herd there, perhaps after a few too many liquors. He'd never been nervous to sing before, and really, he wasn't so nervous now - it was only that he'd never written a song praising a whole community before... what if they didn't like it? The thought was dismissed quickly, for the spend too long thinking of it would be torturous to him. Instead, Reich lit the last torch and stood back to appraise his work.

Darkness descended quickly, the evening star winking at him with her cool, hopeful light as the first guests began to arrive.

Permission for a little PP with Pip! Tagging everyone based off of our current recorded ranks, so if I've missed someone I'm sorry! Also if i've tagged you and your character no longer lives in the Throat, sorry about that too! Kids, feel free to be one of the helpers that set up the party. Everyone is also welcome (maybe after their first post?) to break off and write their own seperate threads interacting with whomever they like.

@Volterra @Ampere @Pippigrin @Maren @Nephele @Astarot @Najya @Tae @Syrena @Zekle @Ilios @Sunjata @Aelfwine @Azulee @Einarr @Nizho @Xolani @Cera @Gulliver @Mihtal @Sohalia @Tarik @Vitani @Amalrik @Arakh @Bellanaris @Byron @Castor @Clementine @Eleanor @Esinakh @Farah @Iskra @Jude @Kolr @Mathèo @Melita @Patrick @Saoirse @Tyrath @Valdis @Vastra @Vezér @Vinati
please tag Reich in all posts
Force & Magic allowed short of permanent maiming & death

Pippigrin Posts: 77
Dragon's Throat Gladiator atk: 6.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 10hh :: Two HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE
Brandybuck :: Wolverine :: None Neverrmind


The halfling had hardly ever been so excited for anything in his life. A night to celebrate the blessed season with those he held dear would be more than he could ask for from the sun godl perhaps it was even something he could cherish more than any magic or power bestowed upon him. Besides the dancing, chatting, singing and tale-telling, Pippigrin was most excited to try the honeysuckle ferment - he had only ever tried apple ferment, and that was one sip that his dad let him have from his mug. (It had still been enough to make him wobbly).

Would Mr. Volterra and Mrs. Ampere come? Did they have time to take a break from their important work to have fun with them? What about his friends Saoirse, Melita and Math? He hoped everyone would come; the entire throat!

With an entire tendril of papyrus reeds tucked across the loops in his horns, Pippigrin was most pleased with the offering he had collected for Father Sun. He hoped that the man, whoever he was, was proud of him and Reichenbach, and the rest of the Throat too. They had achieved much in the past months, and although Tallsun was passing, Pip firmly believed they should celebrate the fruitful season rather than mourn it's passing.

Pippigrin noticed his tall friend standing by the fire up ahead before the temple and a wide smile befell his face. Continuing to trudge across the dunes until he reached the bonfire, Pippin tthrew his offering into the stack. "Ready Reich!?" He cooed excitably, his feet giving a murmuring stomp on the sand.


Arakh Posts: 77
Dragon's Throat Stallion atk: 5 | def: 8 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17'2hh :: 2 HP: 66.5 | Buff: NOVICE
The boy is growing and hardening into the planes of a man with each day that passes, his limbs stronger and his muscles harder. It is little surprise that Arakh seizes upon the opportunity of the party like a starving man grasps food; he has turned into something of a recluse in the recent months, embarrassed by the 'awkward' stage he'd found himself in. His legs had seemed too gangly, his ears too large, his wings cumbersome - it hadn't been his most attractive phase, so he hid himself away whilst his body moved through it and into something far more appealing. The young bull feels better now, his second year almost upon him - testosterone has finally shifted him out of gangliness and into handsomeness.

The Throat's party, then, seems like a perfect time to lower his inhibitions and have fun for a change. Like several others, Arakh has brought a gift - it's a small, crude effigy of the Sun God made from twigs that he'd painstakingly woven together with his teeth, something to focus on whilst he spent his days squirreled away waiting for his body to grow into his legs. He'd coated the doll in animal fat, melted with his fire magic, then set it aflame with the same magic; the fat helps preserve the flame, allowing it to burn long and fearsome. He hopes the Sun God will approve, and he tries to ignore the smell of singing fur that comes from his own nose as he flies with his creation and the wind billows the flames against his skin. He's used to burns, and pays the pain little mind.

He lands elegantly, practice having forged his flying skills into almost perfection. The boy moves forwards and places his offering upon a small slab of stone nearby, careful to keep it away from everybody else's - it's on fire, after all, and he doesn't want to burn the place down. His teal gaze tumbles upon a barrel, and he frowns with interest. "What's that?" His voice is far deeper than his age would imply, rough and accented and as gruff as stones rasping across gravel.

lines | color & coding


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

C H E C K ♛ M A T E

Although often stern and formal, Volterra knows how to let his hair down. How could he forget the three times he'd allowed himself to get out of hand on fermented apples? Each time he'd ended up with a mare beneath him, albeit not quite in the way he'd intended in Roskuld's case (that memory still makes him burn with shame). Each time he'd found his inhibitions thoroughly lowered and his body relaxed, but at the cost of waking up the next day with a banging headache, heart palpitations, and a sense of anxiety and guilt that he just couldn't shake.

Tonight, he's vowed to be a lot more careful with his intake. The Sultan of the Throat, hardened warlord and soldier king, cannot be seen to be a drunkard. The dragons, of course, find Drunk Volterra to be the height of hilarity, and they softly egg him on inside his head. "Dooooo it," croons Vadir from her perch in a nearby tree, her crimson eyes fixed on her bonded like the devil upon his shoulder. "Show herd your fun side."

The beast shoots his golden queen a dark glare. Not a chance. To embarrass himself in front of the herd - imagine! As he ambles towards the gathering, he carries his own offering in his mouth. He'd used his golem magic in the same way as he had to create himself and Isopia that time, but instead he's forged a rudimentary copy of the Sun God. The doll is a decent size, with impressive wings and horns in the same shape as the herd's patron deity, made of hardened but hollow clay. He places this upon the other offerings, grinning broadly at the other gathered horses, especially Reichenbach and Pippigrin. "You have my thanks for organising this. Sometimes, we need to forget the darkness around us and simply revel in the light." Which the titan fully intends to do once more people arrive.


spaces table!

[ 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 ]

Ampere The Mother of Companions Posts: 719
Dragon's Throat Sultana atk: 9 | def: 11 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14 hh :: 6 years HP: 73 | Buff: DANCE
Kygo :: Green Cheek Conure :: None Blu
Unlike Volterra, Ampere wholly intended on drinking herself piss drunk tonight. She was serious enough this past season, and beneath the newly acquired weight of being Sultana, there was still a grief she was chipping away at. Keeping busy with her duties and time had mostly healed her (and alcohol), but this was nearly the eve of Gaucho's passing.

The end of Tallsun, last year.

The enormity of that recognition burned through her in a way she'd thought she'd finally surpassed. In a way she was annoyed at finding herself still so crippled by his loss. It had been devastating to the entire herd, definitely, but the world moved on and already the herd had become something completely different than the one he left a year ago. Plenty of horses here never even knew him, maybe some didn't even know of him, which was a stark contrast to the masses that had mourned a full turn's passing ago.

"I'm getting old," Ampere thinks dourly as she and Kygo fly towards the party.
"Yes," he agrees matter of factly, his tone abruptly shifting to indignant squawks as Ampere aims a small spark his way. She laughs though, and all is forgiven for that brief surge of joy that promises to drown out all the rest of the shit.

"You promise," Kygo reminds her, almost chidingly, as they circle in to land.
"I know, I know," she huffs, hooves meeting sand with an elegant landing. Ampere shakes herself off before loosely folding her wings against her back. She leans down to deposit her quaint offering upon the stone slab - one of her feathers. Kygo flits in as well, hopping forth to proffer one of his feathers. Meager compared to some of the others perhaps, but feathers had significance to Ampere, so there was worth in it to her.

Turning to slip into the crowd, Kygo flapping up to perch on her withers, the pair found themselves striding past Volterra as he spoke. Ampere gave pause, smiling at her Sultan and the warriors gathered. "Yes, thank you. The Sun is all about chasing away the darkness after all, it's only right to honor him by being at our brightest." She meant it, even if she couldn't always mean it.

Nodding at the three Ampere continued on, ambling up to the kegs with interest, her nostrils flared to catch the delicate scents of the sweet liquor. Catching Arakh sniffing around as well she proffered him a grin and some mischievous eyes. "That's drink," she informed him with gusto, her wings opening up to add to her point with exaggerated posturing. "A bit stronger than water, but it gives you courage and warmth, all traits of the Sun." She grinned and leaned down towards him, lipping at one of the barrels. "Why don't you give it a taste eh?"

Her upper lip flicked the spout up to let the honeysuckle liquor flow free, some splashing on her muzzle before she pulled away to allow him.

image credits


Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.

Iskra Posts: 79
Dragon's Throat Colt
Colt :: Pegasus :: 17 :: 1 year
Castiel :: Royal Humpback Leviathan :: Tidal Wave Blu
All I want is Champagne and sunshine
Iskra had been on the idea of a party like sand on a Throatling. Eagerly he'd helped Reichenbach and Pippigrin decorate, his magic coming in a bit handy to hang some of those hard to reach places. He was surprised that two warriors proved to be the most festive in the herd, though he certainly wasn't sad about it. Iskra didn't have the best ideas about warriors given their job seemed to rely on hurting others, but he thought perhaps if their fighters included these two, that they couldn't be all that bad.

Iskra pushed thoughts of his future careers from his mind though, content to revel in the celebration while it was at hoof. So he trotted over with Squishy, his rock golem sauntering behind him, to deposit his tribute on a stone slab for the Sun God. He had gathered some of his favorite shells, rocks, and driftwood from the beach, and with the help of his abilities had arranged it into a rudimentary sun. Proudly he deposited the macaroni-art, then turned and sprinted into the crowd, whooping loudly and rolling with half-hearted bucks at his friends.

"HI ARAKH!" he called to his friend, though his grin quickly changed into a gaping maw as Iskra looked over the bull horned colt. "Wow, you've grown!" he exclaimed with a laugh, pulling up closer to brush the colt's shoulder with his own in greeting. As his mother neared and seemed to offer alcohol to the boy, Iskra withdrew a bit, shaking his head.

"I think water is best for everyone," he suggested, wary.
Sipping on the stars while we laying under sunlight

Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.

Syrena Posts: 207
Dragon's Throat Forger
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 hh :: 7 years
Thelxiepeia :: Royal Rougarou :: Water Kyra
let the water take me
It was sort of impossible to miss the party. She wanted to, of course, because social gatherings were not something Syrena went to willingly. But of course Thea was not about to miss any party where potential friends might be made. As soon as the fires were lit and the sun was down, Thea took off in the direction of the party. She’s wearing her favorite form, that gray and purple hydra, and she slithers eagerly across the sand. Syrena gathers the knives she’d made and trudges behind Thea, moving at about half the pace. Thea slows slightly so she doesn’t lose track of Syrena, trying to encourage the siren to come.

It was going to be a hell of a day when Thea could talk. Already their bond is flooded with excitement and joy at the prospect of so many together. Syrena hates everything about this, but she knows the knives are to be given as prizes and she also knows that there’s no way Thea would be ‘staying home’.

When they get there, there’s already a few gathered, and she recognizes the faces that are there. Two are their Sultan and Sultana, apparently willing to take some time out of their schedule to party as well. There’s a small table of gifts for the Sun god, though Syrena has brought nothing. She has never met the God and has no idea what to bring, but more than that, she’s not entirely sure she can be so easily swayed into trusting the Gods again. She’s still got a bitter taste in her mouth at how easily the Earth God had abandoned them.

Thea spots Kygo and slithers in his general direction, not sure if he’ll recognize her since she’s in a different form, and for that she seems to keep some distance. Syrena makes her way toward the Edge of the group, setting the knives down out of the way where no one would hurt themselves by mistake. She’d collect them later, when the winners of the games were announced. And then she settles in to watch, not entirely sure she wants to partake.

darya87 | larfsalot
on deviantart

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by Reli

Jude Posts: 8
Dragon's Throat Colt
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 hh :: Two Seasons



Whilst a party was the last thing Jude would have wanted to do on such a clear, beautiful night, he had his own reasons to attend the celebrations. Namely, a sweet, orange filly who made his insides churn and drop, who had the kindest, loveliest eyes he had ever seen and whose lips he hadn't been able to stop thinking about since meeting her those few weeks ago. Since meeting her the stars had shone brighter, the air had tasted fresher, even his body had felt lighter, as if his soul had left him and slept instead beside hers. So it was with wary, solemn eyes that Jude approached the gathering, sliding his multi-toned eyes around the party in an endless search for the girl he could not forget. Alas, she had not yet arrived. His tender lips pressed together in disappointment, though the enticing vision of fire, smoke and sacrifice did press his lithe body forward into the fray. Like Arakh, he was filling out - though he was still younger than the handsome yearling and had a long way to go. His body was a delicate, long legged thing that was more likely to toss him into the ocean than to walk with grace. Still, he seemed older - perhaps something to do with his morose emerald and royal blue eyes, the conversations that he managed to hold or his devotion to the stars above.

He watched silently from among the fray of bodies, small enough to go unnoticed as he watched the Sultan and Sultana and then the merry warriors that had put the party together. He turned away, ready to leave even as he almost ran head on into Iskra. "Apologies" was his slow, sincere response, adding as an afterthought "Being sober doesn't seem to appeal to the Throats citizens." His voice was strangely morose for such a young stallion, his golden lashes catching the firelight and reflecting in his large, philosophic gaze. He'd seen Iskra around and knew that his mother was the Sultana - something Jude would not have wished upon any young foal. A parent in charge meant you had to be on your best behaviour at all times... not that Jude ever did anything that would constitute bad behaviour.


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please tag Jude in all posts
Force & Magic allowed short of permanent maiming & death

Vezér Posts: 38
Dragon's Throat Filly
Filly :: Equine :: 17hh :: One year

Night slowly started to fall around her as she made her way slowly towards the center of her island home. There was to be a meeting tonight and in preparation she had taken care of herself. She had napped earlier, bathed, eaten, and gathered flowers for the party. it wouldn't do to not show up with something to offer the Sun God. She smiled around her mouthful of wild flowers, picked from the Oasis itself. If this didn't please the Sun she didn't know what would. As she neared the meeting her eyes settled on her ebony father and the blue marked Sultana.

She had been waiting for a while to get her Apa alone, or at leas with the other lead so she could tell them of her time in the marsh. Her mind raced with the memories of everything she had learned there. Now might be her best chance. If she could get them away before the party really got going that would give her enough time to tell them what had happened. Her eyes shifted over everyone else. Silver speckled eyes halted on three colts around her age. They were all very handsome in their own ways. She flicked her lengthening white streaked mane settling it pleasingly over her neck.

Satisfied she made sure to put a slight sway into her hips and embrace her elegant lineage in her easy walk. She smiled around her mouth full of flowers as she walked between them her eyes flicking between them. She walked past them then turned as if on a whim, in fact she had that planned out. Carefully she lowered her ehad and dropped the flowers before speaking to them. "Hello boys." Her voice was smooth and confident. She smiled sweetly, putting on her best innocent face before picking up a flower and laying one at each of their hooves. Her ears flickered nervously as she picked up the rest of her bundle and smiled at them before moving off. She made her way to her father making sure to flick her tail in case the boys were looking after her.

Once she drew up beside the might Sultan she dropped her flowers next to the other offerings and bowed her head giving thanks to the sun. Ampere was just finishing speaking when she turned back around. She tried to bump her muzzle loving against her Apa's shoulder. "Apa, Sultana, can I speak to you a moment, before the party really gets going?" She paused and looked at each of them in turn. "I have some information you might find important." She couldn't help a small smile of pride flickering over her face.
Words;; 446
OOC/Tags;; @Arakh @Iskra @Ampere @Volterra @Jude
Hotter then a barrel on a squeeze machine gun.

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Doesn't have her collar

Gulliver Posts: 18
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 4.5 | def: 8 | dam: 6
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.1 :: 3 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
He is an obvious newbie to the herd as he hesitantly moved into the crowd.  Nervously he scanned the faces surrounding him, painfully aware that he did not know anyone here, aware of just how socially awkward he is.  He moved forward, aiming for a corner where he could gather himself.  The chatter around him seemed light and it put him at ease, at least a little bit.  As he walked passed an array of strangers, the thump of his heart seemed to weigh heavily in his chest.  He planted himself on the edge of the party, feeling content to just watch for now.  He did have a lot to think about.

Volterra had given him the gift of a home, and seemed content to let Gulliver choose a job that was suited to him.  Gulliver was relieved that he was not going to be pressured into becoming a soldier.  He could tell that the Sultan leaned more towards assigning him to an army, and Gully once again felt relief and joy that he was allowed to follow a path that he was excited about.  Becoming an Apostle was always a dream of his.  He would spend countless hours with the Wise in his birth herd, his eyes shining as he intently listened to their stories as a foal.  He needed to contact Maren, and had hopes to find the elusive mare.  He has heard that she was difficult, but the stallion knew how to handle himself, at least when there is a task at hand.  At a party, however, he is like a nerd at a pep rally.

There were a couple of familiar voices that made his ears prick.  He noticed Pip bounding here and there.  The sight of his friend made him smile.  In another part of the room stood Volterra, accompanied by a smaller mare that mirrored his own painted hide.  However, her coat seemed much more complicated, with webbed markings breaking up the white.  He wanted to approach the Sultan, but he didn't want to interrupt whatever conversation they were gearing up to have.  Instead, he stepped towards the roaring fire that drew most of the attention.  Little trinkets and flowers dusted the area around the blaze, and Gulliver assumed that they were offerings.  He was anxious to learn about the Sun God.  He was going to be devoting himself to teaching others about Him and the history of his new home.

He stood a few feet from the blaze, the flickering of the fire making his white markings glow with an orange tint.  He could feel the heat bubble around him, similar to the feeling of his flight across the ocean to get to the Throat.  He smiled, remembering his temporary wings made of flame and soot.  He still felt a child-like sense of wonder as he unconsciously twitched his shoulders. Gulliver stared into the fire, determined to make those who have welcomed here proud of what he knew he could accomplish.

He walks. | "He talks." | He thinks.

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


There was nothing more exciting for Aelfwine than a party was. When she first heard about it, she was enamored by it; so excited that she could barely stand the wait. And now that it was here, you could guess where she was headed. Immediately, Aelfwine and Vanya headed to the gathering, approaching just after a few other guests had arrived. She and her companion immediately headed toward Reich to say a quick hello before heading over toward where Volterra stood with a few others she didn’t recognize.

Quietly, she offered a hello and a dip of her head to her two leads; her emerald gaze lingering softly on Volterra as she greeted him last, before meandering over toward a colt that seemed rather intriguing. Upon further inspection, she noticed the colt looked quite familiar. Not that she’d met him before, but his features screamed comfort to her, and curiously the doe and her cerndyr made their way to his side just after he almost ran into another young man Aelfwine hadn’t met before.

That was when she saw the marking that danced along his rump, a tree marking. Excitement loomed in Aelfwine’s chest as she made her way to his side quietly. “Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I have a couple of questions for you.” She murmured to the colt, aiming her voice to not be loud enough for others to listen in, and that Jude would be the only one able to hear her. “I’m Aelfwine by the way, and this is Vanya.” She noted, nuding her crowned head toward the bare headed cerndyr who bleated her own hello to the colt.

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

Pattern Credits || Pattern Credits || Image Credits

Directly mentions @Jude :D

Astarot Posts: 81
Dragon's Throat Sun Physician atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 2 (Birdsong) HP: 66.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zafír :: Common Blue Dragon :: Frost Breath Pare
Astarot & Zafir
The young stallion had spent a good part of the day gathering up some all-heal. Zafir had helped flying above them and pointing out bundles of the plants far below. 'I really need a bog of some sort.' He sighed softly around his mouth full of plant. Zafir also had her claws full of the healing plant. When they got back to the Throat the pair deposited their spoils in the church where it would stay cool and dry. He had thought it best to have some herbs on hand in case things got carried away tonight.

Satisfied they both took a nap then cleaned up. Zafir's dexterous paws did a good job combing and pulling twigs out of his flowing locks. He grumbles as she worked on his mane pulling his head to the side every time she found a knot. The blue dragon stepped back admiring her work before letting out a happy trill. "Thank you Zafir." He smiled down at her and she cooed puffing out her chest. Her own scales and claws gleamed in the fading sunlight. "You look great my little gem stone." At his words she puffed up showing off her stunning sapphire scales.

They waited for a while after several showed up to the meeting place,he didn't want to be one of the first to arrive and have to stand alone like a loser. Now that there were several voices carrying on the wind towards them they set out. Zafir sat proudly on her bonds back looking at everyone like they were less than her bonded. He smiled at everyone that even glanced his way. He noticed several people were already engaged in conversations. His father and Ampere were speaking to his younger sister and it looked serious. He wondered what the sneaky girl had gotten into this time.

He scanned the crowd and settled on a new man standing alone. His head lowered slightly to appear more friendly, considering he was new and smaller. A warm smile spread over his bone marked face causing his dual colored eyes to dance in the fire light. The stallion seemed to be close to his age, just a year or so older. His deep voice was light and warm, "Hello, I can't say we've met before." Zafir peered around Astarot's fat head scarlet eyes sharp "I'm Astarot one of the Alchemists here, and this is my companion Zafir." He stopped beside the brown black stallion. His eyes turned to the fire enjoying the way the flames jumped and swirled. Zafir snorted sending a spray of frozen mist at the fire. He chuckled, "She doesn't really like fire." He turned his attention back to the other his mane falling around his face.

Words;; 457
OOC/Tags;; @Gulliver
[Image: silver_dreamer_mist_trans_tag_by_are_we_...a8y6wy.png]

Pippigrin Posts: 77
Dragon's Throat Gladiator atk: 6.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 10hh :: Two HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE
Brandybuck :: Wolverine :: None Neverrmind


It didn't take long at all for all of those familiar faces to lighten the scene even more, the blue-eyed bird eagerly romping over to each of the fire's visitors and giving a great bellowing hello. To those he didn't recognise like Arakh, Vezèr and Jude he would introduce himself briefly before running off to make his next welcome, while to all his other herd-brothers or sisters he would heartily encourage presenting an offering to the bonfire or trying the honeysuckle liquer (though he was yet to try it himself, he assured them all that it was excellent).

Spying the Throat's newest resident by the fire with Astarot, Pippigrin sped across the sandy surface by the temple, folding his wings to walk slowly under Astarot's stomach and take his place beside Gulliver.
"Hallo Gully! Hi Astarot!" He cheered "Welcome to the, um..." what was it called? "Fiesta!" that wasn't it, but he knew that was a kind of party, right? "Do you guys want to try the honeysuckle liquor with me?"

Pippin says hello to EVERYONE by walking up to them and saying Hi of some sort and then goes to hang out with @astarot and @gulliver for a bit!

Gulliver Posts: 18
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 4.5 | def: 8 | dam: 6
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.1 :: 3 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
The fire warmed him, and small goosebumps formed on his skin as the cool air mingled with the heat behind him.  He closed his eyes for a moment. The gentle roar of the crowd around him slowly dissipated to background noise as he focused on the crackle of the fire.  His heart thumped as he thought about all he needs to learn to be successful during his future of a apostle.  He has never been a religious man, but standing here seemed to fill him up with a feeling that he could not describe.  Almost like the Sun God was standing behind him in the flames.  Is it magic?  He opened his blue orbs, glancing behind him to confirm that the alter was empty.

His attention was pulled to a stranger strolling up to him with a creature peering from behind his skull.  His ears pricked, offering a small smile.  "Hello, Astarot, Zaphir.  I'm Gulliver.  I am a new apostle, just arrived."  He glanced at the creature, racking his brain to identify her species. Ah!  He grinned with his inward revelation.  Zaphir must be a dragon.  Even though he has met another dragon, Amaris' golden friend was almost a species all his own.  However, Zaphir seemed more curious then ready to eat him for dinner, and so he let himself relax a little.  He even giggled as a shot of frozen air flew from the dragon's lips towards the fire.  "I can't blame her.  Fire and ice are opposites."  As he settled, his voice became light, and his boyish nature surfaced.

Again, his attention was pulled away, this time by the bounding little hobbit that approached the two..well three. "Hello there, Pip!  I am happy to be here.  It is a chance for me to make new friends."  He was excited that his little bird of a friend had found him instead of Gully having to search him out.  It could be difficult to find such a small man in a crowd of giants.  He looked at Astarot after Pip's offer of alcoholic beverages and let out a laugh.  "Might as well.  It is a party after all.  Will you try some Astarot?"  It is almost like he was a rebellious foal again, sneaking sips of the fermented grapes that the Wise had in the temple where he grew up.  It has been a long while since he has had anything alcoholic, so he will have to take it easy.  He doesn't want to be branded a drunk right away.

@Pippigrin @Astarot || Blah!

Ampere The Mother of Companions Posts: 719
Dragon's Throat Sultana atk: 9 | def: 11 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14 hh :: 6 years HP: 73 | Buff: DANCE
Kygo :: Green Cheek Conure :: None Blu
Ampere gave a curious glance to her son as he sidled up with the colt Arakh and suggested nobody should drink. He seemed increasingly comfortable with defying her as of late, and it left a punctuated frown on her lips as she held his stare. Intending to have fun tonight however, Ampere didn't let her rebellious child get the better of her, and instead cracking her lips into a wan smile. "Why Iskra, you've never tried it either have you! Go on then, everyone has a slightly different reaction to it, but it's tasty and fun either way." She gave a pause, licking her lips still dripping with some of the liquor. "Unless... you're just too scared? It is a bit strong, not really for those who can't handle it."

As more gathered round and encouraged each other to drink, Ampere's smile grew and she encouraged them all too. There was certainly a difference between a party of drunks and a lonely drunk, but she wasn't here to get into philosophy. Just then however Vezer drew near and beckoned her to quietly follow. The seriousness of the filly's request sobered Ampere instantly, and for a moment her smile waned and her features grew troubled. She remembered herself and her location however and quickly gave a hearty laugh, offering the tap to Gulliver and cheering him into a drink with a wink.

"Go on, drink your fill, just don't drink it all before I get back!" Ampere chuckled and started to pull away. "It's already run through me, excuse me while I make water."

Ducking out of the crowd, Ampere shuffled off to meet in the distance with Vezer and Volterra, the weight of the crown never fully lost even when a head does not shine.

image credits

Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.

Valdís Posts: 24
Dragon's Throat Filly
Filly :: Pegasus :: 16hh :: 1 year
tie a rope around your neck,
and let me kick you off a bungee
I do not know why I have chosen to take up interest in the festivities ensnaring the Throat, with decorative flames dancing violently against my vision as they direct guests to other areas, from a pit to a warm stone, all the way to the church. Bundled sticks were stacked high above our heads, engulfing my vision in blistering red that made my body shake and shiver in memory of the very first moment I could see again; it was despairing, excruciating, my head shook and throbbed, threatening to burst like some sick blister. I'd hated seeing, hated experiencing the world in a way I hadn't before, through an array of colours that marked the heated metals that make up the church, the sand beneath my hooves, the cool water of the oasis, from vibrant blues and purples to fiery reds and oranges.

I do not want to be here, but feel the pressure of socializing, of gathering together to be merry with the rest of the herd, where they drink an absurd amount of alcohol until they can barely keep their composure and slip and stumble their way through conversation. It is soon I will realize big gatherings are not my scene, with too big of grins and light of hearts, too relaxed and easy. There is something out there, something powerful, a being whose magic pulses beneath our very hooves, yet we have chosen to push the impending doom aside and partake in childish games. My ears are drawn back as I linger around the edge of the celebration, searching for the familiar behemoth figure of Apa lingering over all the rest, almost tempted to cling to his side as my gut twists and churns at all the chatter around me. The bodies have melted together, forming one hideous mass of all too happy, some disgusting figure with a hundred heads and running mouths, spilling out clashing sentences and bleats that makes my lip curl.

A stout, tiny pegasus is hopping about the crowd, greeting everyone with delight in his voice as he parades about without worry, too merry for my tastes, almost making me sick to see him introduce himself to every individual. He slowly comes closer, going from horse to horse, making my stomach turn, I can just hear the wide smile on his lips as he talks. As he approaches, my words come out suddenly and without hesitation, in no mood to listen to a puny pony greet me with such sincerity. "Buzz off, törpe." That's the end of that. No thank you.

I find Apa in the crowd, pushing my nose towards him to make sure he's aware of my presence. I voice my concern quietly, with slow, casual words that are firm and true, speaking loud and without hesitance. There is a tone of hopelessness in the way I talk, as if this dark aura that lurks within every shadow, beneath every stone, is already among us. He is already here. "Szia, Apa. Ez nem az ideje a felek számára, valami ott van. Érzem. A mocsárban van, Apa. Ott van az anya." I look up to Apa, scarred brows twitching to show my concern, if my words could not display it already. The helplessness lingers over me as I speak calmly to Apa, falling apart inside at the memory my words bring up. I had ventured towards the Marsh with Mamma, listened to her divergent rants where her voice would waver in pitch and two tongues spilled from her lips in every sentence; they were the same hectic minds that had taught me fragmented languages that were not within the borders of Helovia, who told me with an eerie, guttural groan as we entered the Marshland, "irgendwas stimmt nicht." The way it was said haunts me still, echoing through my clouded mind with clarity and purpose, etching the words into the back of my head as it hisses and twists, hanging over me threateningly.

And I felt it, saw it, in the way the world around the Marsh dimmed, how the cool bodies of astral spirits drifted helplessly through fragmented trees, tangled up in one another (es gab so viele), a pile of hollow eyes and gaping mouths that made my spine tingle. I had caught glimpses of them before, retreating across open fields in the dead of night and lingering at the edges of my vision when I wandered alone far from the Throat. They were no threat to me, Kísértetek have never interacted with me, never so much as given me a second glance as they ghosted over their haunting grounds. I yearn with them, knowing how it feels to purposelessly wander through the world without a tether to reality.

I step away from Apa gingerly, hesitant to let him go and mingle with the herd, unable to bring myself to look out at the rest of them with my ears swept back and head hung low. I can feel the distance between myself and the collection of warm bodies only grow as I look on, at their glorious chugging of sweet and sharp alcohol that claws against the throat as it goes down, their playful teases and casual conversation that buzzes around me like a hive of agitated bees. My head is spinning at all their words, catching too many pieces of too many different conversations, almost gagging at all the things I can hear and see, the colourful clash of too many bodies in such a small space. I feel sick, unsteady as I drag my heavy hooves towards the cooled barrels that reeked of honeysuckle and primrose, making my stomach lurch at the idea of feeling the liquor slip uneasily down my throat. I drink anyway, ignoring whatever passing glances I may get for being so young yet so eager to drink.

My first sip has my throat alight with the soft, honeysuckle sweetness but the harsh flames of the alcohol itself, face remaining still but body flinching as I swallow. The second sip is just as awful, with my gut crying out in anguish for me to stop before it's too late, but I continue to drink, hastily lapping up the sugar sweet and fiery liquid as if it might help me manage whatever empty void lays beneath my breast. It will help nothing, leaving me nothing but stupidly inebriated as I pull away from the barrel and turn to face the crowd again, spying the body of my younger sister, Vezèr, swaying her baby hips as if she ruled the world. It made me furious to see her like that, to watch her go about so casual, so confidently while I must be so out of place, must stick out against the crowd of drunks like a sore thumb with my eyeless features marred with deep wounds. Fasz.

I approach her with surprisingly composed steps, getting there just in time to watch her place a flower at the hooves of every colt she can think of, murmuring so nonchalantly a gross greeting to the general group. I cannot tell if it is jealousy that consumes me, a green envy at the way she can so confidently stride through a crowd without fearing the grim looks and pity that oozes from onlookers, how she can just walk up to anyone and act like a perfect fucking princess, or hatred for the happy and flawless, the neurotypical that makes me so sick. "Szia, ribanc," the words leave my mouth thick and heavy, gently slurred together as I gaze at her audience with disinterest, miles away from the party as the festivities rage on in my head and I drift farther and farther from the thundering of a hundred drunk conversations. "Surely none of you want to end up being her babysitter tonight, do you?" My words are still slurred, hollow sockets gazing down at the flowers at their hooves tinged with purples and oranges, blurred and far off but still there before us. She's retreating now with a bundle of more flowers still between her lips, wondering who else she could offer such useless gifts to. What does she want from anyone else? "Nos, te biztosan az ő gyermeke." I watch her go, still twisted over her fleeting interaction with the gathered colts. There's no doubt about it in the way she has slipped in before the boys, taking up the opportunity to be the center of attention, basking in their gazes. It is no doubt she is Volterra's child, with the way she so easily presents herself to them, making me sick (or is it the alcohol? Or the constant despair looming over me?).

I turn away from the crowd now, already tired of the festivities when I've only been here for a moment (or have I?), stumbling and tripping over myself as I make my way towards the church, leaning against a cold wall as my head spins and my thoughts cease to be, leaving me empty and rigid, unable to process the world before me as it goes on.

@Volterra @Vezèr @Pippigrin
beep beep incoming novel asshole/pro party pooper, sorry pip & vez C':
Ez nem az ideje a felek számára, this is not the time for parties
alami ott van, something is out there
Érzem, i can feel it
A mocsárban van, it is in the swamp (in this case the Marsh)
Ott van az anya, it's where mother is
Nos, te biztosan az ő gyermeke, well, you're definitely his (volterra's) child

Victorina Posts: 10
Dragon's Throat Filly
Filly :: Equine :: 16.3 :: Newborn (Ages in TallSun)

Since Mama's death, I've stuck close to Papa. As close as I can with him being so busy. He's the only parent I have left. He'e been teaching me how to speak Hungarian, although I can not say I am the best at it. Unfortunately, I spend most of my time on my own as Papa carries out his Sultan duties. I have heard of this, party... But honestly I do not feel like going. How can I party, when Mama's... Not here to party too... It's because of this that I arrive much later than most, the festivities well under way. A small crowd seems to of already gathered. With a deep breath, I pluck up my courage and move among the crowd, looking for my Papa.

I have to admit, this is the first time I have seen most of the herd. I am very overwhelmed. My green eyes are wide, and to be honest I want to run away. I want to run far away from everyone who could possibly turn on me for no reason just like that mare...

With those thoughts, I am drawn to Papa's side, that is until... My emerald green eyes taking in those gathered around him. I know one as the Sultana, but the others.... I move forward and speak softly, almost a whisper Papa, ki vagy? My Hungarian is rough, the words do not yet roll easily off my tongue. But I am trying. The two who look to be a bit older than I am are the ones I am most curious about. Could they possibly be siblings of mine? They kind of look like Papa... Like me... But before I can get an answer... I don't think Papa hears me as he moves off with the Sultana and one of the fillies. The other filly seems to leave too, leaving me standing very much alone.

I take another deep breath, turning to move off to the two colts that look at least closer to my age than some of the others gathered do. Szia, Victorina vagyok But I quickly realize that I have spoken Hungarian and switch over to the language that my Mama spoke. I mean, I am Victorina... Tori for short... Um... My voice trails off as I honestly don't know what else to say or ask. I shift around for a moment, clearly nervous.

Victorina talks

Image Credit

Papa, ki vagy? - Papa who are they?
Szia, Victorina vagyok - Hi, I am Victorina
Tagging for mentions - @Volterra @Iskra @Vezèr @Valdís (technically Ampere and Arakh too, but I wasn't going to double tag)
I promise it will get better as I get into her personality more

Melita Posts: 35
Dragon's Throat Filly
Filly :: Hybrid :: 16 :: Newborn - Birdsong
Sila :: Plain Zephyr :: Wakiya Heather
She was horrendously late.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t meant to come, but the rest of the world had been one distraction after another (a system of events starting with several bees buzzing near her head, landing on the last of summer’s petals, and then flying off to their hive, which she had to investigate on principle alone) – and when she was finally there, amidst the great gathering along the church (a mighty temple based on a god of the Sun whom she’d never seen), she stood stock still and rigid.

It was like the herd meeting all over again.

The moving mass was overwhelming, a sweltering flicker of unfamiliar forms and poised muscles, drunken splendor, loud shouting, hooting, hollering, and raucous laughter; but she wanted to join in, enthralled by the zealous energy. She could even make out a few beasts she recognized, like wonderful Iskra and the delightful Pippigrin, but not her sweet sister or her lovely mother, and so she remained there, taut and torn, pondering what to do or where to go, what she was supposed to be doing. The little girl didn’t want to be on the outskirts, always staring in, always meandering her way through the crowd, always uncertain, unsure of what action to take in life; and sure enough, the exuberance, the wild, untamed, savage fractions of her soul took flight, and she achieved movement.

She raced down into the dunes, extending her wings, allowing the wind to flicker through plumes and feathers, laughing as she pretended to dive-bomb into others on her way by, giggling as she attempted to make her way towards Iskra, the Sultana, and a few others standing beside some concoction. “Hi!” Melita shouted above the din, the massive grin hiding over her prior insecurities, until she was a blur, a stir, a brewing cauldron of curiosity and intrigue, attempting to forgo all the apprehension. “What’s this?” She indicated towards the liquor, eyes drawn to it because everyone else seemed to find it great and awesome (and the sweet smell reminded her of little Clementine, earnest and bright), and the youth didn’t want to let another opportunity pass her by. “Can I have some?”

let me live that fantasy
art | codes

[very late. D:] @Iskra and whoever else is nearby

Astarot Posts: 81
Dragon's Throat Sun Physician atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 2 (Birdsong) HP: 66.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zafír :: Common Blue Dragon :: Frost Breath Pare
Astarot & Zafir
He smiled at the other stallion as he introduced himself. "It's a pleasure to meet you Gulliver." He laughed along with the dark colored stallion as Zafir snorted at the fire. She could be so temperamental sometimes. "Dragon's a uh," he paused and glanced at the blue creature on his back, "proud and stubborn creatures." He braced for her anger, but she merely nodded in agreement. He chuckled again and shook his skull marked head. He took a deep breath and closed his dual colored eyes quickly as Pippigrin showed up. Zafir stretched out her wings before taking off. He wished he could join her without being super rude.

"Hello Pippigrin." He watched the two talk quietly for a moment. When the liquor was brought up he shook his head. "I think it would be best if the attending healer was sober." He smiled and turned to look at the Sultan and Sultana curiously as his youngest sister pulled them away from the group. His ears pricked, "If you'll excuse me gentleman, try to stay out of trouble." He winked and chuckled again before heading off to talk with his Father.

At the last minute he decided against it; if the massive ebony stallion needed to speak to him he could come find him. Smiling he paused to look around at everyone wondering who he could talk to now. His eyes settled on the person that had started this whole party and he headed for the bay stallion. Zafir swooped back down and landed on his broad back again trilling softly to him. He nodded and smiled at her before walking towards Reichenbach. He smiled brightly as he stopped in front of the older man. "Hello Reichenbach, I'm Astarot and this is Zafir." She craned her neck around his fat head once again. Feeling bad for her, he shifted slightly so she could look at the bay man in front of them. "This is one hell of a party you have going on here." He grinned at the brown stallion hoping he didn't sound like an idiot.

Words;; 347
OOC/Tags;; @Gulliver @Reichenbach
[Image: silver_dreamer_mist_trans_tag_by_are_we_...a8y6wy.png]

Iskra Posts: 79
Dragon's Throat Colt
Colt :: Pegasus :: 17 :: 1 year
Castiel :: Royal Humpback Leviathan :: Tidal Wave Blu
All I want is Champagne and sunshine
Iskra watched the silliness fade from his mother's features at his presence and words, but he didn't care if it meant she wouldn't poison Arakh with the alcohol. What he didn't expect was her goading response, and the kernel of truth it contained. After all, he never had tried it - he'd never wanted to after seeing what it did to her on a nearly nightly basis. Yet for all his growth and all his (limited) knowledge of the world, he was still but a boy and she his mother, and he would always look to her for love and comfort and in many cases, truth. That she said everyone had different reactions to it was something he took completely without second thought as being real and truthful, and it planted a small seed of intrigue in him. Besides, normally it was just mom drinking alone, and a lot, but it couldn't be that bad if they provided it for everyone in the herd at a party setting right?

"I'm not scared!" he blurted out defensively, feathers ruffling up as if to punctuate the point. By then she was done with him though and already moving on, and Iskra was left with a puffed up chest full of hot air and doubts. Iskra looks back at Arakh, about to argue that he wasn't scared, as if by saying it enough it'd be true. Before he can however a little filly had come up to them and began to ramble off in gibberish. Iskra's tension instantly relaxed, twisting instead into confusion as his 'brows knitted together. Before he could ask she was introducing herself, and Iskra proffered a warm smile in welcome.

"Hiya Tori, I'm Iskra and this is Arakh. What was that stuff you said earlier?"
Iskra's gaze became distracted by the quick blur of a familiar filly, and excitedly he called out to her, "Hey Mel!" Her giggles incited some of his own, his mood always brightened around her, and eagerly he breathed in the sweet scent she always seemed to carry with her. As her focus seemed held on the liquor however his feathers slicked back with a tightness that betrayed the anxiety tumbling in his gut about it all.

"It's fire drink," he murmured. "Careful, it changes you, so don't have too much."
Sipping on the stars while we laying under sunlight

@Arakh @Victorina @Melita

Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.

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