the Rift


.s l i p p i n g. through the night

Bazilisk Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#1

B A Z I L I S K
slithering
creeping
hissing
a snake!
they say
no.
i'm a giant snake.


Pitiful. This land is pitiful. It's nothing compared to the Deep Abyss, where all was so beautiful. I can still recall the rich scent of the simarillians, the flowers nestled and cloaking the walls of the Deep, golden pollen a constant shroud over the deep. I can remember the thrill of the hunt, sinuous curls of my body sweeping over the earth, chasing the glow-painted deer, the antlered horse leaping from my snapping teeth. I remember the dark, the deep deep black, constant even in the depths of the world where the heat is constant on my scales from the core of the earth emanating through the rock itself. I slow, tongue flicking, tasting the chilled air. I don't like snow. No, I don't like it all. That does not mean I am weak in snow- in fact, I cannot feel cold or heat the way silly horses do. Horses. I joined a herd of horses. A predator amongst his prey.

Pathetic.

Jagged, hard-edged black scales begin their movement, swaying over the earth, slipping between the trees at ease. I have complete and utter control of my lengthy body, but as for my hunger for scrumptious horse meat, I do miss, even though I have sworn not to eat any horse. Perhaps if someone injured comes along I can have a quick snack... and the Throat wouldn't know. Would they? No. Certainly not. The rasp of snow giving way is the only sound on the moonlit filled night. I can scent horse, but horses are all over this thrice-damned Helovia.

I'm homesick. Weakness, I tell myself, yet I long for the Deep Abyss. I long to speak my old tongue, instead of this language of Horse, cut and chopped up into fine little pieces, with each vowel distinct and crisp, not smooth and flowing as it should be.

""




Lace the Silverthorn Posts: 459
Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 14 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Fajira :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath Chan
#2
Once upon a time there was a man
With his eyes towards the moon
And he wonder to himself:
"Will love come soon?"

All at once every creature of the forest grew silent. It was not the comfortable quiet that settled with nightfall, nor the peaceful one that enjoyed the serenity of a snowy day. This was the kind of silence that brought a taste of unease to the tongue, whispered of fear and unknown things. Something different was within the Edge today, and whatever it was the smallest inhabitants of the land did not like it.

The stallion raised his head from the patch of wilted grass, ears twitching and muscles tense as he sensed the worry that seeped through the woods. Through the bond he consulted the white dragon that was his constant companion, his other half and the extension of his senses. She had been busy hunting all day, finding it more and more difficult to find prey as winter progressed. Now, when the days gradually were becoming longer once more, it was harder than ever, and she sounded slightly grumpy when she replied, confirming that indeed something was amiss.
Lace snorted and frowned, for a moment actually contemplating to ignore the matter. It was not his task to guard the borders, nor was it a duty of his to examine all the strange occurrences that took place in the Edge. But the recent kidnappings revealed that the Qian had grown perhaps a bit too comfortable within the borders of their stolen home, and he had a feeling that there were more retaliations to come. With a sigh he threw a final longing glance at the grass, pushed the feeling of his gnawing stomach to the back of the mind and turned, stretching the legs out into a steady but ground covering trot.

He had to search for a while to find the source of the disturbance, but when he did a crawling feeling along the back made him wish he hadn't. Quietly the gold-marked stallion slipped into the shadows and regarded the giant black snake as it made its way through the woods, making sure to stay out of reach. It would not be pleasant to have those massive coils slip around the body, crushing bones and squeeze the breath out of the lungs until his heart stopped... A thought from him caused Fajira to abandoned her futile search for a meal and return, wings cutting through the air as she headed his way. It would take a while for her to find him though, and during that time the snake might very well cause trouble in some way.

Golden eyes looked about the area, trying to find something to slow the beast down with. There weren't much to use though; rocks, trees, the occasional patch of ice where snow had blown away or been reduced by the warmer mist that always hovered over the land. Fajira made a mental sigh in their mind and reminded him of what he had discovered earlier, the thing that caused the dreams? Lace suddenly grinned, slightly sheepish. How was he supposed to remember something so obscure, that he'd never had before? It was a perfect solution however, and without further ado he settled in where he stood, relaxing until the lids drooped halfway over the pale orbs. It took time still, had yet to become a second nature. He focused on the trees around the snake, allowed the mind to sense the wood, the bark, the trunk all the way up to the branches where buds rested, awaiting the warmth of spring. Then he returned, trailed down into the cold earth, slipped into the trees and commanded them to move.

Without warning, the roots of the trees suddenly came alive. Thin, tenacious roots sprung out of the soul and snow to wrap around the body of the snake, clasping tight enough to hopefully ensure that not even the slender body would be able to slip out of the grasp. Maintaining the mental grasp on the trees, Lace then slipped out of his hiding place and cautiously stepped closer, examining the massive predator with slight unease.

"It was an unfortunate decision, to choose the World's Edge as hunting ground" he mumbled, half to himself and half to the reptile, like one might speak to a mouse or bird trapped in the confinement of a cage. "At least Fajira will stop complaining about being hungry... This should feed all the dragons for a while." If she deigned to eat snake, that is. Sometimes she was strangely prejudiced about what could be eaten and not; like birds. She'd have to be starving to even consider going after the feathered critters.


Image Credit
BronzeHalo.deviantart.com
♦ Permission granted to use magic and violence on Lace and Fajira
♦ Only tag in new threads, spars and if it's urgent
The Store | The Warden

Bazilisk Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#3

B A Z I L I S K
I do not desire to hear your words, nor you mine.


To be honest, I am a bitter and rather inverted individual who keeps to himself and when approached, can tend to be a bit hostile. And even as I slipped through the night, a dark shadow in the lightless night, I did not notice a pathetic horse who had every intention of staying my movement through the snow falling so softly from the sky and kissing the earth with white lips. To my eyes which are, unfortunately, incompetent to decipher of strange horse movements, I might have even thought the relaxing horse was dead, quite honestly. Naturally, I did not even look upon the earth, and indeed without a word of warning, the slender vines and sharp branches twisted around me with firm hands.

To be truthful, I would eat him up if he had done such a thing to me, but the branches and roots of the trees stemmed any forward movement, and instead I had to stop myself from desperately trying to escape the wooden trap. So I roared. It was a rumbling, deep-throated, furious beast that seemed to rise over the World's Edge, snarling and snapping, pure hot anger embedded in every thread, a magnificent roar. It was so loud the very air seemed to vibrate, and the few birds remaining in this cold winter took the air, the crows croaking their harsh caws as they flew high into the frigid skies. I turn an angry, baleful gaze to the little monster who had blocked my way, my tongue flicking to taste the air. He seemed to be mumbling to himself, the bumbling little thing, as if I was an illiterate idiot who was incapable of speech and thought! Asshole! As for the little white flying-scales, I wanted to snap her up and let her taste the fires of hell.

"Fucking horse should let me go this instant." My voice is a slippery hiss coming from my black lips, and white fangs glitter and snap in the moonlight glinting on the snow. "Hasn't anyone told you not to piss off a fucking giant snake, you soft-eyed, small-brained, half-assed, stuck-up, no-faced animal! I demand you release my at once. Not to mention you're attempting to kill the Artisan of the Dragon's Throat!" I snarl at him again. He's lucky my gifts were taken away, otherwise he would be a chunk of rock right now.




Lace the Silverthorn Posts: 459
Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 14 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Fajira :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath Chan
#4
Once upon a time there was a man
With his eyes towards the moon
And he wonder to himself:
"Will love come soon?"

The roar startled the stallion and set his nerves on edge; one, because snakes are normally quiet animals and two, since it was loud enough to make an ear pop. Steeling himself the Glazier forced himself to apply a calm facade and reared, forelegs whipping in the air as he danced forward, hovering over the head of the snake in a threatening way before coming down hard, hooves landing only inches away from the silver-spiked head.

Should he be surprised that the thing actually could talk? Considering that his skin had been burned by the fire of a god, his mind was linked to a very sentient dragon that currently was hurrying full speed in his direction, and that he had ventured to the inside of the Heart of Helovia, faced off with a fire gremlin and come out alive, this miracle was rather petty in comparison. He chose to swallow any eventual curiosity over the phenomenon (and the fact that the Throat apparently accepted just about anything into their ranks) and retorted with sharp voice, ears flat against the neck.

"Hasn't anyone told you that it's pretty fucking stupid to come crawling into a herd-land in the middle of the night, snake? Be glad that I chose not to impale you on the spot."

The voice was icy cold, the words precise and spoken as if they came with a foul taste - not many things could ignite the temper of the normally so quiet stallion, but this one had done a magnificent job right from the start.

"A member of Dragon's Throat have no business slithering about the forest of World's Edge, and then we may be allied or not. State your business here - and do try to clean out that mouth of yours. I don't like your tone."

A sharp cry resounded through the air, announcing the arrival of the white dragon. Picking up on Lace's anger she dove down and snapped with teeth just before the nose of the reptile, tongues of searing hot fire licking the lips in a definite warning to not try anything funny. Not even the scales of a basilisk would be left unharmed after a point-blank hit of dragon fire...

Image Credit
BronzeHalo.deviantart.com
♦ Permission granted to use magic and violence on Lace and Fajira
♦ Only tag in new threads, spars and if it's urgent
The Store | The Warden

Bazilisk Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#5

B A Z I L I S K
I do not desire to hear your words, nor you mine.


My tail whips angrily through the air, and with my mind reaches out the forest surrounding me, playfully teasing metal through the ground, which cuts through the roots with ease before slipping away back to their resting place. My voice falls very quiet, and very threatening as the stallion dares to act as if he could kill me. "I assure you, horse, that I've eaten prey far more dangerous than you, and I'm not afraid of getting my teeth bloodied." I think the horse words for it is getting your feet dirty. In my land, there are no silly expressions such as that- we eat anything that threatens us unduly. "Should you, ah, attempt at killing me, I'm happy to have a snack to fill my belly. And do you really expect a snake to understand the boundaries of Helovia and where one territory stops and another begins? After all, snakes are only poor idiots." I sneer at him, amused by his idiocy.

When he asks me to tell my business, I give a low, guttural growl, lifting high off the ground until my fore towers above him, and my head hangs in silent threat above his. "Hunting, what else little beast? I have to eat." As for the little white dragon's flames, I snort. My scales are impenetrable to fire, and only strengthened by the gifts of the Sun God. I snap mischievously at the white creature's wings, but I have no intend to truly bite it. "Now, little horse, be on your way. I do intend to talk and disrupt my hunt." My sardonic tones are patronizing, a fact I enjoy and a fact that shows clear on my angry face.




Lace the Silverthorn Posts: 459
Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 14 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Fajira :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath Chan
#6
Once upon a time there was a man
With his eyes towards the moon
And he wonder to himself:
"Will love come soon?"

He almost felt pity over the ignorance of the reptile. Clearly it knew very little of the nature of a dragons flame. It was said to be the hottest fire in the world; no matter how hard a metal he forged to clothe the slithering body, he would not escape unscathed should Fajira choose to unleash it. He was sorely tempted to let her. The patronizing attitude of the intruder made Lace grit his teeth, muscles steeled and ready to move at the slightest of signs that the so called Artisan was about to attack.

The snake snapped the roots of the trees and he allowed them to recede, unwilling to further damage the trees. A black-laced ear twitched and Fajira slipped out of the way of the sharp teeth, hissing and beginning to loop around the head of the intruder, prepared to attack at a moments notice. No other reaction was given to his sudden loss of advantage, even as Bazilisk raised the massive head and stared down at him. May it be that he was but a Glazier, he had spent his whole life training and participating in battles, guarding borders and staving off unwanted 'guests'. The body was trimmed to the fullest, as much as possible during a season where food was scarce, and he had lost none of the skills that kept him alive so far.

As if a snake, no matter how big, would be able to make him back down with only a few words.

"As a member of Dragons Throat you are expected to pay attention to such things, and then you may be an idiotic snake or a rock, I don't care. There are plenty of grounds to hunt on besides the Edge; I suggest you take your leave, if you can't be civilized. You wouldn't want to face the DragonHeart - and you will, should you linger without invitation."

He didn't doubt that Fajira had already passed on the news of the intruder to Akaith, who in turn would relay it to Mirage. He hoped it wouldn't be necessary for her to step in though; such a small matter shouldn't have to require the attention of the WeyrLeader, and he didn't wish to be insulted by suggesting that he couldn't handle the situation. Still, if it was for the safety of the herd, he'd swallow all the pride he had and even call for help. He didn't have to like it.

"If you do change your mind, however, I have some things I would like to discuss with the Artisan of the Throat. My name is Lace, bonded to Fajira, Glazier of the World's Edge. Through the grace of the Lady of the Moon, I create and shape glass in any manner of way. Is that perhaps of interest?"

Perhaps a bit of honey might be better than simply stick. Sometimes a layman could be soothed by discussing his own trade, and as irritating as Lace found the snake, he wasn't going to do anything drastic. He had no desire to start a conflict with the Throat; even though the basilisk started it, no one would excuse him for adding fuel to the fire.

Image Credit
BronzeHalo.deviantart.com
♦ Permission granted to use magic and violence on Lace and Fajira
♦ Only tag in new threads, spars and if it's urgent
The Store | The Warden

Bazilisk Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#7

B A Z I L I S K
I do not desire to hear your words, nor you mine.


I watch as the puffed-up pony seems to give a cue to the dragon, for the little ivory creature begins to fly around my head, giving little hisses and growls. Cute! I ignore it, except for a quick glance to take in what threat it may actually pose. Very little, if any. Probably. I feel sudden doubt at my distant cousin, and shake my head at it, speaking in a low voice of gutturals hisses and slight clicks, wondering if she'll understand my promise in the tongue of reptiles- "I won't harm him, and I swear it on my youngs' life." It's a solemn, binding promise, and one I won't break, no matter how angry I may get at this stallion Lace. Then I return my attention to his low voice. "That is something I must work on." I growl at the inferior horse, yet the threat's gone out of my eyes as the fury ebbs away, fading from my body. I lower myself to the ground, and when Lace the Glazier introduces myself, I look at him with a spark of new interest, ignoring the hunger rumbling in my belly.

"Is that so?" I ask in inquiring tones, yet I do not doubt him, for some bizarre reason. When the horse asks me of my own skills, I let a little smile curl my lips. "I'm working on a prototype for armor that can be mass-produced to the herd. Something simple, but I need some softer material to line it with then hard metals. Oh, my name is Bazilisk, by the way. Tomorrow I'm working on a wall across the northern border to fortify the Throat with my apprentices. Technically, I should be sleeping, but I find it difficult to rest during the night, so I normally hunt." I love speaking of crafting- it is my vanity and it is my weakness.





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