the Rift


[OPEN] Don't scare the new girl [Welcoming!]

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
#1
for there are many ways to kill a man they say
One thick-bodied tank leads the other, crashing her way through the land and heading in a steady northwest direction, until the air seems to grow a bit chillier, the ground harder, and all flora either brown or leafless. Fall is well on its way to winter up here, where they wake to a ground glistening in hoarfrost and a clammy, lingering fog. At least her heavier frame will do well up here, Wessex things, knowing that bulk traps heat better than slenderness does, and if the past couple of weeks are any indication, they’re in for a doozy of a winter.

She makes a mental note to check in with the Weavers while she’s in the Basin - just to see if they’ve got enough supplies to make cloaks if need be. That comes under her domain now, doesn’t it? As like, the general moral and caretaking of the herd? She doesn’t want to have to explain any frozen corpses to the God next time she has to summon him. ’Yeah, no one was paying attention and our negligence allowed someone to die. But you’re not mad, right?’ Wessex can’t imagine that would go over well.

She obligingly points out a couple of places of interest on their way to the Basin - the Blood Falls, the Steppe, and the direction of The World’s Edge herd, but otherwise Wessex chooses to remain silent unless Vahana wishes to ask any questions. A land bridge narrows before them, flat and barren, leading to an impressive mountain range, and the valley that nestles at its western edge. Soon, a pair of metal sentinels come into view, massive statues of unicorns which guard their gates. They’re useless right now, but the Haruspex isn’t going to tell Vahana that yet. “This is it,” she says, “Welcome to the Aurora Basin. Should actually be able to see the aurora borealis at night now.”

Yellow-orange eyes glance towards the mare. “If you decide you like it up here, we have a whole rank and caste system of jobs. Weavers, warriors, spies, and wise ones. Religion, too, if you’re into that.” It’s a rather smooth, offhanded remark, but she figures strangers should know what they’re getting into. The Spark doesn’t demand fanaticism, just that they don’t fuck things up too much. And well - that’s always a work in progress. Physically, Wessex has her own ideas about where Vahana might fit in, but she’s not too sure about the mare’s personality - some just aren’t meant for violence. Like Vertigo. She’s a large, but gentle creature. Kind of useless on the battlefield, but that’s what the warriors are for, right?


I am Iron and I Forge Myself


@Vahana  
Everyone come say hello!
Also, let me know if you want Vahana's rank changed to Aurora Basin Mare
-- please tag in all posts! --
-- magic and force allowed, no death or permanent damage --

Vahana Posts: 7
Aurora Basin Mare
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 :: 3
Yoko
#2
In the distance, the herdland’s shaggy autumnal decrepitude lay illuminated by the weak rays of a sallow sun. Rust-colored leaves tumbled to life by brisk autumnal notes that roused them from slumber, requesting a last wistful dance before the wintry embrace would claim them. The temperature dropped rapidly as the two mares travelled side by side. Vahana could feel Frostfall's icy grip tugging at her flanks as a chill crept into the air. Not the bite of wintry blusters, but just a nip to let them know a new season was at hand. No words escaped Vahana’s lips. She replied to Wessex’s mention of places such as the Blood Falls, the Steppe, and the The World’s Edge only with several brisk nods of her head. She wondered about them, about what wonders these locations held, but knew that she could not possibly visit them all in one day. Tucking away their names carefully within the intricacies of her memory, she decided that if she chose to make her home here, paying them each a visit would be adventures for later.

The depths of Helovia unfolding before Vahana were no less impressive than what she had first imagined. For a brief time her gaze wandered from the damp, sable earth to the beauty above, carefully scanning the sleepy land that lay before her through glistening amethyst orbs: misty hill, moor and glen. As they drew closer they wove between skeletal trees whose branches were so bare that she could have counted the leaves on each and every one as she passed by. The trees were skirted by pools of fallen leaves. The pools animated in the wake of their beating hooves, taking to the air in an elegant dance, pirouetting around the tree trunks to their own rustling hymn. The frolicing ended when the two mares had passed, leaves landing gently behind them to form new pools that looked identical to the ones they were in before. Vahana had always liked to admire the colors of Autumn, although its reds, golds, and yellows were beginning to fade away as they drew deeper into Aurora Basin territory. Without them, the autumn would be a time of sadness, to watch what was new and green only months before decompose into the soil. Instead, it was a gateway to rebirth, to renewal.

“You have a lovely home,” Vahana remarked between breaths. Her muscles ached a little beneath the throbbing of her wounds. Her body needed to rest, yet her mind needed it to move. Not even her aching body could deter her from matching Wessex’s pace with the animation she'd acquired from their encounter. The ground before them swerved into a narrow valley that was almost a gorge, stretching farther than Vahana could see. At its entrance were two towering, metallic unicorns standing watchfully on guard. The newcomer gaped in awe at the the fine craftsmanship of the machines as they passed by, for they were massive and uniform, unlike anything the mare had ever seen before. They reached so far into the heavens that she had to crane her neck in order to get a better look. Wessex said something about there being a ranking system of jobs within the herd, but Vahana's attention was fixed on the sentinels. Her words echoed with childlike curiosity, “Your herd built these?”

@Wessex
OOC: I do see her rank has already been changed, but she will decide to stay, so that is taken care of!

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
#3
R I K Y N & D U I R

"My father made them, the last having been finished about three years ago now," I answer of her question, my voice unusually cold for a familial topic, disguising the mourning that I have not allowed myself to undergo, and will not allow a stranger to see, and most definitely not Wessex, either. As I stop before the Mutant, and what appears to be yet another wanderer she has brought in, I try to instead focus on the fact that I’m glad that someone has a knack for it. I myself have come away with nothing to show for it too many times from that wood. I let my gaze sweep across the stranger in my usual appraisal, and have seemed to done it often enough now that I even have a checklist of sorts I mentally run through as my eyes move from hoof to horn tip. I deduce that this one might be as physically strong as Wessex, though its hard to tell if she’s as willful, and I am glad, also, that she’s a unicorn, unlike many others as of late. "I like to think he’d enjoy that they still impress people, even though they’re broken."

I look at her with the warmest smile I can manage, still cautiously tiptoeing around the issue of my swept under the rug emotions. Moving on from the subject of the emotion-rousing Sentinels, I instead turn to introductions, and other things of importance. Herd history, particularly history that makes a knife twist in my heart, can be discussed later, when I’m clear across the valley.

"Anyway, welcome," I nod, "I’m Lord Rikyn."

Arriving alongside me in perfect time is Duir; bobbing his ivy laden, antlered head in greeting, with a powerful gust of air from his nostrils (he’d run here, and is winded), he also looks towards Wessex with a happy deer smile and a deep, friendly nod of hello. Clearly, the unusual tension between Wessex and myself is not of any bother to him.

"And this slow-poke is Duir," I smirk, knowing he’s suddenly wearing a scowl without even looking.

[ OOC: -waves hello- ]
this is not destruction
this is your birth



image credits

Wishlist - Plots

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

Glacia Posts: 111
Aurora Basin Medic atk: 4.0 | def: 8.0 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 Years HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Name :: Snowy Owl :: None Nessie
#4
Glacia
Rikyn was out of the parenting today, which meant I was in charge. Momma in charge! I liked the sound of that. "Gwyn, today we are going to go to the sentinels, and I am going to tell you all about them, if that sounds good to you? They are part of your heritage, and well. Very impressive." A smile lifts my lips, and I nudge at the rump of the youth before I turn and begin to trek through the narrow trail and woods towards the Prisons initially, then back down towards the lake and the sentinals and the arch way. As we passed the lake I came to a halt, looking back at Gwyn. "I was born just in that outcrop of tree's, just over there. Your grandmother, Illynx saved me. A mare that hated my father, named Aviya, tried to kill me immediately after birth. Later, before my first festival Illynx and I spoke while I played in the water. She was the lady you know. Once upon a time. Like your daddy, she ruled." I smiled, and remembered that not only had Illynx ruled, but another grandparent of Gwyns. "My father ruled once too. He didn't when I was born, but he was the lord of the Basin when it first came into existence. However, it was a different time, and a much darker one at that. Come, I'll tell you more about it later." My feathered legs lumbered back into motion, carrying my body towards the archway.

As we approached, I began to talk to Gwyn again. "These were built by your grandfather Ulrik, The Engineer. He was the best crafter we had, and had such an imagination. The first was already here at my birth, and later the second was added. They are broken now, sadly. But-" As we came around and through the arch, I stopped talking. There was a gathering. My eye is immediately drawn to Rikyn, and Duir, before moving across to find a stocky mare covered in horns. She seemed a giant thorn. I had however noticed her during the festival. With her she brought another mare. The mare was gorgeous, and only slightly shorter than I. A pink horn spiraled from her forehead, framed in brown curles and tresses. However, wounds marred her body. A pleasant smile lifts my lips, as I move forward to the group. I move to stand on the other side of Duir, smiling at the deer as I do, my eyes raising to look at the newcomer. "Hello! Welcome to the Basin. I am Glacia, and this is Gwyn." My eyes move to her wounds and I step forward. "I see you have some injuries. I can help, I am a medic. I could take you to the time menders cave if you wish, and we can have one of our Time Menders fully patch you up. I'm still learning after all." I leave my demeanor soft and relaxed, with my ears forward to the newcomer. I was admittedly excited at the chance to use my skills to help, or even watch and learn from the time menders even. Anything to gain experience.

"Talk."
@Gwyn
@Rikyn
@Wessex
@Vahana
<3 Welcome!!! :D

image | bckg

Gwyn Posts: 10
Aurora Basin Filly
Filly :: Unicorn :: 16.2 :: Newborn
Bunnie
#5


Laying out in the sun piercing through the shadowed awning cast by the evergreen wood outside their family’s cave, the snow and gold filly dozes lazily in the warmth of that heavenly, golden glow. Occasionally, a breeze ruffles through her fluffy mane, but, otherwise, she is undisturbed, her sides softly lifting and falling, and her lids fluttering as she dances through a child’s dreams.

The sound of her mother’s hooves rouses the girl’s pale blue gaze, those dark lids fluttering open as she tilts her face to look up at the arrival of her dam. Rising to her hooves as Glacia tells her they are to go somewhere, the girl is slow, and blinks her comfortable sleep from her eyes with a bleary yawn. Hurrying her stretches and rousing of self when her mother’s touch gently urges her on, the girl trots after the snowy, black mare she loves with all her heart, her small voice inquisitively asking, as she catches up:

Sentinels?” it is a large word for a small mouth, and highlighted with the truth that she knows not at all what it means. Nothing rises to mind around that word, the image which looms in her thoughts instead becoming relative to what was impressive to her. She imagines her strong daddy, tall and clad in metal, and she also thinks of the very tall mountains. Thereby, the image which swims to mind is that of a gargantuan Rikyn – which makes her lips quirk up in an amused smile, and a small giggle tumbles forth as she more eagerly strides alongside her dam down the path which will lead them to these mysterious Sentinels.

When they pause along the lake, Gwyn follows her mother’s gentle eyes to where she gestures. Listening, eager to hear of her grandmother, who her father didn’t talk of much, and also of her grandfather, who she might someday meet, according to both her parents; wondering what either of them were like, and believing that they are both as impressive as the Sentinels will surely be, the girl can’t help but wonder just was “a darker one at that” means as she again follows after her mother.

Are they nice?” she asks, deciding to not ask about things she was just told should wait, even though she really, really wants to now.

However, the Sentinels are soon in sight, and, as she gawps up at them, all of the stories she had concocted along the way (entailing demons and monsters roaming about an eternal night in her home-vale) are blasted out of her mind. It’s all she can do to look upon them and hear her mother’s words, so much so that she doesn’t even noticed the strangers there until they speak.

Looking at them with wide blue eyes, she smiles and nods hello when she is introduced, her lion’s tail swishing behind her happily, but otherwise remains quiet, and watches the interactions in between impressed looks at the metal titans. Occasionally, she steals glances at her father, too, and smiles whenever his eyes meet hers.

The mare with all the horns Gwyn remembers from the Festival; she had run the stand with the hoops. Seeing her now, the filly is again impressed by her toughness, which is in stark contrast to her mother’s elegant prettiness. The other woman is big, too, but she makes Gwyn think more of her dam than of the spiky one.



’cause you’ve got teeth like a wolf
but you cry like a sheep


Image & Code by Me

Vahana Posts: 7
Aurora Basin Mare
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 :: 3
Yoko
#6
It was not Wessex’s voice that answered the curious newcomer, but that of another. She turned from her marveling to see a dark colored stallion approaching them. He was a distinctive creature indeed, with his long, dark mane, gilded cloven hooves, and leonine tail. His body was also trimmed with gleaming gold, the same shade as his gaze, which swept across her stocky figure, examining her carefully. From his brow sprouted a sharp, onyx spiral, wound with gold. When he turned, she could see that there was a distinctive golden tribal marking that extended from his left hind hoof to his stifle. He carried himself proudly, in the way a leader would, with his head held high. She was not too surprised when he introduced himself as such, Lord Rikyn of the Aurora Basin. Following him was a strange, soft, chocolate-colored beast that she had never seen before. It was almost like a small horse with rather large ears, a stubby tail and antlers atop its head. This animal too was marked with glittering gold details. It smiled warmly at Vahana, and the painted mare jumped in surprise at its display of friendliness. Rikyn wasted no time in informing her that this odd companion of his did in fact have a name, and a strange name at that: Duir.

Vahana did her best to reciprocate their warmth, “Greetings Lord Rikyn, and to you too, Duir. It’s a delight to make your acquaintance. My name is Vahana.” The mare gave a polite bow and then paused, thinking of what to say next. She added, “You and your herd must be very proud of your father’s creation, these here Sentinels. They are certainly magnificent. May I ask what happened to them?” Upon speaking her last word, it occurred to her that asking such a question might be overstepping her bounds. Before she could further doubt herself, before Rikyn gave his answer, the sound of approaching hoofbeats signaled that they were not alone.

Lord Rikyn and his faithful companion Duir were not the only new faces that arrived to greet Vahana at the Basin’s entrance. Vahana's amethyst gaze fell upon another unicorn nearing them, a mare this time, a young filly (presumably her own) by her side. The inky-black mare stood at a height slightly taller than her own. Small white flecks were visible on her body, standing out against the blackness of her coat like stars in the night sky. Her face had a kind expression, was marked by a wide blaze. Her forehead sprouted an ivory horn. The mare called herself Glacia, and her filly Gwyn.

As all of the painted unicorn’s welcomers now stood relatively close together, she noticed the similarity between Gwyn and Rikyn. Gwyn, the child, had a similar dark coat, accented with gold. Perhaps Rikyn was her father. They must be related somehow, Vahana thought. Was it that the whole family had come to receive her? She did not hesitate to introduce herself again, in case the mother and child had not heard her earlier, “I am Vahana. Wessex found me and was kind enough to show me around, as I’m sure you can tell.”

At Medic's suggestion, Vahana remembered what she must look like. Her appearance was unsightly at best. The woman's thick tresses were tangled in a giant bird's nest. The sable feathers on her ankles were matted and caked with mud. The once stark-white patches adorning her barrel were now with dark with dirt, and tinged with the pink color of old, dried blood. At least the fresh blood on her left knee had started to scab up. She frowned, "Traveling does take a toll on one's appearance." She supposed that she could use a little "patching up," as Glacia put it. Undoubtedly she did not want to look so disheveled if she were going to meet any other members of the herd.

A grateful smile tugged at the corners of her lips, "I would like that very much. I suppose it would not hurt to have a trained eye take a look at my injuries. By the looks of them these scrapes could probably use some mending."

OOC: -waves-
@Wessex
@Rikyn
@Glacia
@Gwyn

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
#7
for there are many ways to kill a man they say
Why yes, she is a giant thorn - a giant thorn in the mighty Rikyn’s side, which is we’re dealing with the transitive property, practically makes Wessex a thorn in Glacia’s side, too. It’s a point of stubborn pride sometimes. The day they stop needling at each other is the day the world is facing the apocalypse.

It seems that she doesn’t have to do much once she brings Vahana to the gates of the Basin, which she honestly doesn’t mind; she’s happy to recruit and then hand them off to others who can make them feel more at home. If not, the Haruspex worries that she might somehow shortchange the newcomers… somehow. Doesn’t matter how, really, but it’s a convenient excuse for her semi-socially adept warrior. Wessex adopts a relaxed stance, cocking a hind leg and letting the curious do their thing. Her eyes wander of Glacia and the filly she has in tow. Coming to the same conclusion that Vahana does, she also secretly wonders why anyone would let the Brat King fuck them.

But hey, she’s got a double bias against the guy (count 1: penis, count 2: jerkface), and unless he’s pissed everyone off, there must be some women willing to procreate. Nothing against Glacia, of course. She won’t judge a woman she doesn’t even know. What she can judge, however, is her own glossing over Vahana’s wounds. During their whole exchange, Wessex clenches her teeth, realizing that she put her own feelings about the scrapes first, and even though Vahana said they were ok, she didn’t double check. Oops.

“I would have sent for a healer, but it was either that and let Vahana wander around aimlessly or… you know.” She shrugs, looking at the paint mare while making a face. It’s a bit of a grimace, meaning to convey her apologies. “Should find you a cave to live in too - a night out in the open will probably make you run towards the Throat at first light.” A pause. “That’s the herd in the south.” 'Cause duh - she wouldn't know that yet .

I am Iron and I Forge Myself


@Rikyn  
@Glacia  
@Gwyn  
@Vahana
-- 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
#8
R I K Y N & D U I R

She is called Vahana, which makes me think of the place my uncle Torleik had spoken of, the Northland’s version of the Star Realm: Heaven, an Eternity Thereafter. Duir’s ears slant slightly back at her surprise, having forgotten in his haste to make friends that many arrivals to the Basin have never seen anything quite like him, or the other creatures which had formed bonds with the herd members, but keeps his most friendly expression on regardless. With age, his demeanor and face grows more and more noble (like the wild deer and elk his form mimics), but the essence of the fawn he was still lingers in his youthful expressions.

"It is good to meet you, Vahana," I tell her, with a nod, and a smile that disguises the tumultuous maelstrom that writhes beneath the mantles I had always deigned I would never wear.

The likelihood her name is so related to this small piece of my forefather’s pasts is minimal, but the memories of my Uncle and Father which rises to mind are as sharp as those which are inspired by her question as to what has become of the Sentinels. I try my best to remain neutral, but it is likely obvious that the topic is painful, the reality of what I say too new, too unbearably fresh, and speaking of it is like a salt laden rain.

"He is dead, and cannot tend to them any longer," I answer, because I would rather remember him as someone who had served this place, than the man who had left, to follow a kinsman who, shortly thereafter, too, had seemed to have left Helovia entirely, for all that any had seen or heard of him. It pains me to remember the piled stones and the shallow grave, or the blood pooled on the dark earth beneath he and Kirchoff, but it hurts more to think of him walking away, leaving me in that second autumn of my life, to come home, to be all but alone. "They functioned on magic, which is no more. And as far as I know, he is the only one who could upkeep them, but perhaps the God of the Spark himself."

I am glad for the arrival of Glacia and Gwyn, and I look towards the pretty woman who has filled my memories for as long as I have them, and the child we have made together, with a softening of my hardened exterior. The metallic walls that I have thrust upwards to meet the challenge of the topic at hoof are lowered, to allow my gaze to be gentle as it meets the matching eyes of the girls who have, somehow, begun to worm their way into my heart, despite my best attempts to remain aloof from others.

Breaking my gaze from their perfection when Wessex speaks, I smirk, and add on to her broached topic of the additional herd lands, as well as the necessity of a cave. The tenderness which had bloomed in me at the arrival of my own family, not just the one I was dealt by fate, dead or vanished by now, is stowed back away under by version of Lordliness.

"The Healers and Crafters have rather large caverns for storage and work – they should suffice as a temporary place to crash until you find somewhere you like," I say, adding in with a sly glance at the Haruspex (we’d all heard the Time God, after all), "guess Wessex could let you bunk with her and the Mirror, too."



this is not destruction
this is your birth



image credits

@Glacia

Wishlist - Plots

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


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