the Rift


[OPEN] time honored traditions [FESTIVAL PREP II]

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

R I K Y N   &   D U I R

Figuring that, if I was going to be telling everyone else to work, I should probably lead by example (Duir, snorting alongside me, rolls his eyes at my casual failure to give him credit for a two hour long conversation we’d had last night, at his insistence), I rise before the Sun, and make my way towards the open space of valley alongside the lake.  The Moon is sinking behind the tall rise of the mountains as I approach, the cool smell of autumn already sweeping in from the ice-locked north, and, unsurprisingly, I’m alone. 

 
Pausing to stretch, my haunches rising as my chest drops, my forelegs reaching before me, I rise and roll my shoulders, before stretching each leg out in turn, and pulling my head about to touch my sides several times.  Feeling sufficiently limber, I begin to move through the area, picking up stray branches, stones, and other things which have become discarded in the past year.  Stacking them up neatly to the side, just in case the stray things come in handy, I pause, and wonder where my deer has got to for a moment.
 
Getting mushrooms! he says, revealing a sizeable stash he’s found in a narrow ravine in a nearby pass (there is no way I’d be able to get in there) through our mental bond.  Glad he’s being productive, and taking from some place so obviously overgrown, and not my cave, I carry on.
 
I’m glad to note that there isn’t much debris, our herd being, at the very least, responsible with their mess.  Within the hour, I’m at the old dance and gathering area, which has, per usual, overgrown with a year’s disuse.  Some patches are still barren, however, and the not so far from the shore area isn’t hard to pick out.  Promptly setting to pulling up bunches of grass and wildflowers, occasionally pausing to haul them off into a brush pile to use for a fire later, the rising Sun quickly sets sweat to gleaming in the folds of my coffee toned flesh as I work.
 
[ OOC:  Feel free to join in and help!  Tasks that need doing are:
  • Small bonfires prepped (unlit) or bundles of glowing mushrooms from overhanging branches or “lamp-posts” (pine branches stuck in the ground lol) along the border of the dance area, the entire lake, and other attractions
  • Clearing the dance floor
  • Fortune teller’s booth
  • Story teller’s area
  • Pine branch wolf and cloth tails, cloth blindfold
  • Rings for ring toss, and a standing line
  • Finish/starting line for lake race ]


  • this is not destruction
    this is your birth



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    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
    #2
    Tallsun has begun to turn chillier, though not yet cold. But she’s thankful for her new cape anyway, largely just because she likes it. Raven sits on her back, preening at the feather’s around her neck, making sure they stay as clean as his own. She finds his antics amusing, but also, she knows it’s how he shows he cares, so she doesn’t laugh. Instead, having never been much for sleeping anyway, she figures she could make her way to some of the mountain passes for some early morning running. She has yet to train with the cape on, and though she knows it will make her hot, she wants to get used to having extra weight. Not that she would choose to fight while wearing it, but she’d like to be ready, just in case. Besides, it’s existence would make her run that much harder, and she’s always looking for ways to make her training harder.

    But before she can set off, movement catches her attention. The sun is starting to rise and the the familiar gold of her Lord catches in the sunrise. It looks like he’s currently tearing up perfectly good grass in a land that doesn’t exactly have a lot of it, so she makes her way over, curious what he’s up to. “What are you doing?” she asks, her version of a greeting.

    Though she doesn’t wait for an answer, but sets about helping whatever ridiculous purpose this is. She keeps her ears flicked in his direction, but drops her head and begins ripping up patches of grass. Raven swoops down from her back as well and he begins to collect some of the debris. She notes that he only collects anything that looks shiny or pretty or might fit into his ever-growing collection. Still, it’s some amount of help, so she doesn’t stop him. He is cleaning, after all, even if it’s selective cleaning.

    - weaver -

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    Rhodoc Posts: 24
    Aurora Basin Stallion
    Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hands :: 4 years
    felix
    #3
    SHUT UP AND LET ME SEE YOUR JAZZ HANDS

    Surprise, surprise... I've slept horribly again. This seems to be the trend, especially in recent, and I will continue to blame the startling crispness of the Basin nights.

    But today I wake in a peculiarly good mood, even despite the fact that my muscles are achy from a on-and-off kind of sleep. I'm up and moving even before the sun spills itself over the mountains, figuring the best way to cure soreness is to walk it out. And by walking, I mean walking to the hot spring, where I'll allow myself another leisurely (but not necessarily earned) lazy day.

    So I'm headed there, pleasantly lost in the mindset that I've got a relaxing few hours ahead of me, when there's a flicker of movement off to the side. I'm easily distracted by it, thrilled by the possibility that it might be someone I could soak with, and I saunter in closer for a better look. At first, I see Rikyn, his shoulders glazed in sweat. Jeez. What could he be doing that was so physically taxing this early?

    I stroll right on toward him, leonine tail tossing as I part my lips for a greeting when the familiar patches of black and white steal my attention. My eyes fall on Weaver, the delicious mare who brought me to the Basin in the first place.

    "You!" I say to her, grinning as I come to a stop. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me. It's lovely to see you again, dear." I switch my purple gaze over to Rikyn, who still busies himself. I watch for a moment, ears flickering as the sun breaks over the far ridges and bathes the scene in a hazy, golden wash. The Lord's sweat gleams in the new light, and its obvious he's exerted himself way more than I ever would before sunrise. As much as I hate the idea of working, it seems only natural to offer. "Fuck, Rikyn, let us help before you pull a muscle or something."
    artwork by littlewillow-art
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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
    #4


    BELOVED

    just kill ‘em all, watch ‘em fall
    Yr’s Weaver, the Boy King, and another unknown to her are positioned within the heart of the realm. Having no recollection of the festival, not the sort to seek out bright lights and large gatherings in the usual-dark of the valley, the image before her is peculiar and new, despite that she had once lived here before, for a short duration of time. Narrowing her eyes from where she watches from the failing night and the cleaving shadow beneath the tall pines, the maiden of mayhem deems to deduce what it is that they are doing, all while her tail lazily strikes against her sides, and the northern winds whisper through the branches of the pine forest she hides among.

    Her giggles, perhaps perceivable even from this clandestine distance from the foray, are stifled, somewhat, and not as common, their plethora replaced with occasional bouts, much like the breeze that rides through the valley from time to time. They rise while she watches the greedy bird steal away with bits of metal and chipped hoof, bone and shell, stone and lost gem; she sings her breathy song of laughter with each small death of the plants ripped from their holds in the Earth. At last, her giggles become to many and her curiosities too steep to avoid the light which rises and stains the sky red, and with a shudder and nervous glance towards the Sun snuggled in the horizon’s holster, she snakes her way with a peculiar path to almost press her sides into the now cloaked flanks of Weaver.

    Yes,” she drawls, slowly, giggles puncturing each breath in ones or threes or dozens; her gaze roves over to the indigo one (who looks at the painted one with eyes whetted by lust) while she croons in her childish simper, and her lips curve upwards into a Cheshire’s overly broad, purely twisted grin, what are we doing here?

    [ OOC: Belooooved's here to be creepyyyy ~ ]
    they don’t know what they’ve started

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    Oizys Posts: 134
    Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 7.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.5
    Mare :: Hybrid :: 17hh :: 2 HP: 73.5 | Buff: NOVICE
    Ker :: Philippine Eagle :: Curse Snow
    #5


    Oizys is not adverse to a party, but she vastly prefers just rolling in when everything's all set up rather than having to get her hands dirty helping. That is for the peasants, and the gargoyle most certainly isn't one of those. Still, she needs to do something around the herd that doesn't involve sparring, because her muscles are aching from her three quickfire battles with Weaver, Toulouse and Erebos and she desperately needs a break from all the bloodletting.

    There's already quite a crowd gathered by the time the gargoyle arrives, her scarred face cast into sharp relief by the morning sunlight. At the head of the procession is Rikyn, their enigmatic Lord and possessor of the status '10/10 would bang' since his ascension to kinghood. There's Weaver, her battle-sister, and Beloved, the creepy mare she'd shared her first shift with. There's also a stallion she doesn't recognise, his skin hued with purple and his horn lethal and glassy.

    The steel soldier approaches with Ker riding on her shoulders, glaring over at Weaver's raven with the same hunger as she had during their spar. "I think whipping out the party alcohol would make this set-up a lot easier," she suggests with a gleam in her eye, addressing Rikyn moreso than the others.

    Without waiting to be asked for her assistance, Oizys summons three eagles made of electricity, which fly towards some of the larger chunks of debris. They slam into the obstacles and set them on fire as their sizzling sparks collide with dead leaves and twigs, and it's not long before the debris is burnt down to dust. It's a lot easier than doing it by hand (or hoof), anyway.

    OIZYS
    NO WEALTH, NO LAND, NO SILVER, NO GOLD
    NOTHING SATISFIES ME BUT YOUR SOUL


    [ the gargoyle queen ]
    OIZYS IS ALWAYS RATED M FOR STRONG LANGAUGE IN HER POSTS




    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
    #6
    for there are many ways to kill a man they say
    It’s probably a good idea for Wessex to take a break from spars for awhile and give her body some time to heal from her vicious mistreatment of it. Parts of her still ache, even after a week of rest, but she’s starting to feel restless and in need of something other than patrolling to do. Something with a hint of social interaction. Smoke draws her attention, and as there’s been neither fire raining for the sky or a thunderstorm lately, Wessex can only assume that it’s from someone’s magic, which by default means company.

    Expecting to find one, she instead finds five and almost backs out, not sure whether or not she wants to intrude on a verified clean-up party. She’s a little, ah… anal about keeping things tidy, as Rikyn can attest to (hell, he’d probably say she has a pole shoved so far up her ass, it’s one of the horns sprouting from her head - or some joke like that). She silently joins the edge group and starts on clearing a new area, using the barbs at the end of her tail as a sort of scythe, moving down unruly weeds and small bushes with quick flicks of her powerful tail. Maybe once he tells them what they’re doing, she can set herself to something else besides a walking, talking lawnmower.

    Like, cutting branches or something. If her horns aren’t can’t be put to use drawing blood, she might as well destroy other things with them.

    I am Iron and I Forge Myself


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

    Öde Posts: 145
    Aurora Basin Disciple atk: 5 | def: 10 | dam: 5
    Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17 hh :: 4.5 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
    Blu
    #7
    ÖDE
    Öde had somehow gotten himself involved in a party. He must have been lying dead and buried this time last year, and before that he can't remember, maybe the rift gods had delayed the normal festivities. Either way, it's apparently tradition or some shit, so while Öde did his best to balk and complain, arguing that his time was best spent in the caves with the gods - here he was.

    Huffing in exaggeration Öde watched some of them setting to work. He instead stretched out his forelegs and leaned into a good piss, his leather straps swaying at his sides, ready to be buckled before he set himself into the more physical task of somehow erecting a fucking fortune teller's booth. Truth be told he was looking forward to prattling off absurd fortunes (because it was clearly a sham, he had no gifts for such a thing) and wondered if he played his words well if he might not make one of them come true that very night (a handsome and incredible black and red stallion will bed you...).

    Smirking, Öde drew himself back up and started to fiddle with his manly girth. As he did so he called over to the assembled group, talking out of the side of his mouth as he worked the leather into submission. "'EY! Anyone know how to build, got a horn reading spot that needs erecting."
    I have become DEATH
    the destroyer of worlds.
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    62.5/62.5 HP
    Helovia Hard Mode

    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
    #8
    R I K Y N & D U I R

    It’s not long before my morning solitude is broken. Duir returns with his antlers laden with glowing fungi, depositing them into a pile before bounding back out to get more. Only looking up from my minor glance to him because he’s nodded to someone as he left, I lift and turn my gaze to find Weaver, and her bird. Her confusion is amusing, and I smile, as I’m apt to do, unwary of wounded others (all too sensitive) with my expressions or words.

    You! calls a voice, as I move my lips to answer, my mouth slowly shutting as my eyes land on Rhodoc. Not far along after him, from another place all together, comes the laughing woman (why? What did I do to you, fate?), and Oizys.

    "You brought it, then?" I jokingly retort to the onyx dipped warrior mare, a sly grin flashing her way.

    Wessex broodingly arrives in silence (and I’m the one who needs to figure out how to work with others?), and Ode, a man who haunts the Haruspex cave, but I don’t know very well, arrives on her tail, asking after builders.

    Glad at least someone knows what’s going on, I look back at the first to inquire after my not-so-Lordly weeding duties.

    "We have a Festival in the fall, here," I explain, looking from Weaver to the rest who’d asked after what we were doing, "used to be in honor of the Time God and the unicorn. Guess it’s just the Time God now… but this is where the dancers dance, and the band plays. Did you have celebrations in the Chamber? Anyway…"

    Gesturing around me as I dictate tasks I can think of off-hoof, I try to project my voice for everyone to hear.

    "Someone who’ll find it easy should probably go take down some small trees, or bring back larger branches. We’ll need some for the horn reading stand, and to hang lights from. Others can go find some more supple ones… I had an idea for something, considering our newest, er, herd-mates," I mean the wolves, of course, but they’ll see once we get the art project underway, "and firewood. Lots of it. The night is dark, after all, and I’m not sure Duir’ll find enough mushrooms to cut it. Oh, we’ll also need some furs and rugs from the Crafter’s Cave, piled up over by the shore. I’m sure Lena won’t mind laying them out later."

    When I’m sure everyone has a task in mind, I grin and nod, setting out to gather some branches and wood, myself.

    "Pile ‘em up by size, I guess," I shrug, "we’ll sort it once we start building."

    And, with that, I’m off into the surrounding wood to gather festival supplies.



    this is not destruction
    this is your birth



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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
    #9
    I can't walk on the path of the right,
    Because I'm wrong.
    Gatherings in the Aurora Basin tend to denote either items or information being dispersed, both of which are useful, so when the old black spots a small congregation of herd members forming toward the western borders of the territory (which he hasn’t yet explored and thus finds even more alluring), it takes zero deliberation to turn his rickety body around and shamble in that direction. Unfortunately, by the time he reaches the spot everyone was standing in originally most of them have left, drifting off to do he doesn’t what for he doesn’t know why, leaving various items arranged in piles nearby as clue or evidence of what they’re trying to accomplish. Curious, he wanders over toward a pile of luminescent mushrooms, their soft skins glowing a faint blue.

    He expects them to smell, things that are brightly colored or otherwise loudly present generally being noisy in other ways too, but either they don’t smell or he’s just too old and decrepit to detect a scent, his nosing about the small fungi only yielding a weakly glimmering smear of blue across his muzzle and beard. 'See?' His companion asks, unable to see anything more than a foot or two away from his face with any clarity, intrigued by the bits and pieces of images he can glean from his bonded's senses. "Sure." The black answers, lowering his nose to the pile again, creating a ramp with his head and neck for the python to slip down and explore. "Probably don't eat any though."


    "Talk."
    OOC // He's the tallest one here and already faffing around with the mushrooms, so if someone tells him how he could hang some lights. :P
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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
    #10


    BELOVED

    just kill ‘em all, watch ‘em fall
    To the crafter’s cavern the wench had wandered, her giggles in tow. Though, certainly, a festival was not the average locale to find her, neither was a herd, really, and she had found that it served her well enough, in the end. Such a life had afforded her the comforts of an easy life, sheltered by the bodies of others, though she too, allegedly, was due to sacrifice herself in their name, if she was so beckoned; she would not come, of course, but that which she had here was no so easily thrown away, because she was false.

    The pendant upon her chest is cool and bounces with her step, a reminder of how much greater she was than these small mortals, who did not see the greatness of the God rising in the Marsh as she did. Pausing in the shadow of the cave, she sets to tossing reams and yards of cloth across her back, myriad furs and other things that, to Beloved, anyway, might be useful, and made of fabric or something cushiony.

    So she appears, a multi-toned mummy swathed in so many layers of cloth that her bouncy trot seems to make it seem a sentient rag pile as she approaches the cleared area. With a feminine grunt she tosses her load to the earth, drawing a puff of dust up from the grassless earth.

    The old one is here, smelling the mushrooms used for lights. With a guffaw, she prances towards him, her sugary sweet voice lilting though the empty space.

    You, old one, do not eat that which the storm deer has gathered. The Boy King says they are for lights,” says the mistress, having snatched up a sizable sheet of gauzy, semitransparent fabric from her half-hazard deposited pile of furs and cloth; of course, the golden prat had left no instructions, but, thankfully for him, Beloved was simply mad, not stupid. Ripping a swath lose from the majority of the piece with her teeth and hoof, the mare then flattens this roughly torn bit of fabric on the ground, carefully depositing the mushrooms within. Entirely oblivious as to their psychedelic effects (you usually had to eat them, of course, but constant physical contact with porous membranes surely would have some effect), the mare uses her lips upon their dusty surfaces liberally and without worry; besides, it may not be that different from being her, on any other day. “Perhaps bundle them, like so.

    Tying the ends so that an overhanging, knot made handle of sorts now exists, the mare casts the ruddy man a most insane smile, before continuing her work.

    Or pillows, pillows for story time,” she mutters as she works, occasionally humming a peculiar, high note among her giggles and murmurs, “the weary sleepers along the shore…

    [ OOC: There you go Albrecht. Your favorite is here to offer tips on what to do! ;) ]
    they don’t know what they’ve started

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    @Albrecht
    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
    for there are many ways to kill a man they say
    Someone who finds a massive amount of physical labor easy… three guesses as to which one of the assembled Basiners that is, and the first two don’t count. Although if someone were to guess Oizys, Wessex will accept that answer. She listens with one ear turned towards Rikyn, and as soon as he mentions something that she might be a little better at, she doesn’t wait for any more instruction. Cut and haul things - she likes to think he was specifically talking to her, remembering such things as sliced skin and the sharp tips of her horned head wet with his blood.

    Yeah, she can go ‘chop’ some wood.

    The Corporal trundles off towards a large, dying pine tree - the needles are brown, and it looks like it’s sickly or something like that - dying, the way trees do sometimes. Starting on the bottom, she takes her heavy hooves to branches first, throwing her whole weight on them to first break them off the trunk, then her horns to finish severing. By the time she finishes everything within reach, she’s sweating and covered in dead needles, rivulets running down her shoulders and back. “Ok, I need someone to help with the carrying!” she yells to the others, grabbing the end of a branch in her mouth and dragging it back towards the open area.

    Ok. She’s kinda tired now.

    I am Iron and I Forge Myself
    -- please tag in all posts! --
    -- magic and force allowed, no death or permanent damage --

    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
    #12
    R I K Y N & D U I R

    At the sound of Wessex’s selected pine toppling down with a sonorous boom, I turn around, quickly dragging the bundle of brush and firewood I’d been toting atop two large pine branches, like a makeshift sleigh, to the general pile at the dance-floor. As I figured, its no sooner than I deposit this bit of fire supply than her deep voice rises out, asking for assistance in dragging it.

    Seeing only Albrecht and Beloved most immediately by for the time being, I move towards her, assuming I’m better suited for the task than a small crazy lady and a literal bag of bone dust.

    "Time’s Beard, Wessex," I say as I approach the tree; I had meant sensibly sized things, not elder pines. Still, that she’d knocked it down at all is pretty impressive, I guess, reminding me of a large, blue stallion called Beowulf helping my mother do the same, the first year we’d had this here. She’d struck the large trees at the base with her lightning to char and weaken them, and he’d thrust his shoulder into them until they’d fallen over. I wonder what happened to that tent they made then, before we’d brought the blue one down from the Caela, the hand crafted one with all the colors and rippling skeins of cloth… Not that it matters, I remind myself, returning to the present, and casting the steel coated mare a smirk and chuckle. "Maybe I should make you head of the forestry department."

    Grabbing a nearby, sturdy bough, I add my muscle to the pulling. With any luck, Oizys or Weaver will show up shortly to help us drag the world’s largest tent post back to the clearing, to be stripped for… well, something. We certainly have about ten thousand extra pine branches now.


    [ OOC: Hahahaha he's mostly impressed honestly ;D Also post order is def. imaginary for this thread ]
    this is not destruction
    this is your birth



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