the Rift


My Arrogance has caused Me Pain[Open]

Azzaron Posts: 85
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17 hh :: 10 years Buff: NOVICE
Dark
#1
Azzaron stumbled along, gagging constantly as he wandered to the colder Steppe. Although Birdsong, the Steppe was always cold. He stuck his hocks straight into the snow. This did not help the burning pain. It barely soothed the raw flesh. He screamed constantly, the screams raspy and usually ending with gags. He couldn't stand this. His eyes watered as he gagged some more. He was determined to get this magic. His lungs burned from the ashes and his hocks were nothing but burned flesh. Screams of agony escaped his mouth, he swore constantly at his arrogance.

Azzaron vowed he would stay sane for Birdsong. He groaned as the pain sent signals to his brain that he was injured. I KNOW! He screamed in his head. What an idiot he was. Agreeing to terms with the Sun God was his big mistake. He hated himself for it. He cried out in agony once more before falling over gagging. Pain. Pain. Pain. He hacked and coughed. His lungs burning, his eyes watery and his nose runny. He coughed more and more. Blood drops began to fall from his lips. He was dying for sure. He gagged and coughed. His sight blurred by the tears within his eyes.

He hacked for hours on end, the amounts of blood he coughed up became greater. He swallowed the snow, letting it cool his throat before gagging some more. He couldn't live like this. How would he live till the end of Birdsong? The sun began to rise. It was now the second day since he was given this ashen lungs and burning hocks. His arrogance would either lead him to his death, his insanity or his treasure.

OOC:
WC: 282
"When you grow old, you will die and rot on the ground,
Other horses will dance when you all crumble, when your kingdom falls.
When your crowns break."

Israfel Posts: 54
Hidden Account
Filly :: Tribrid :: 16.1 hands :: 2 Years
Sparrow
#2

Israfel Azardokht

White legs traveled over white snow; glacial cold kisses her body, but she can smell spring in the atmosphere. Warm breath unfurls in the frigid air, like the wings of a baby bird, fluttering demurely over her head. The pale girl always catches herself wandering through this steppe, although she is not quite sure why - perhaps it is the way light is reflected by the glittering snow, or how alive the feral bite of eternal winter makes her feel. Regardless, she loves this frozen place, with its tundras and its relentless sun which recalls (like so many other things) her father, in all the glory of his luminescence.

A harsh cry disturbs the silence, rousing the peace of tundra birds, and inevitably, our young protagonist, whose eyes widen with surprise, and to a lesser degree, fear. She holds her breath tight in her chest, as if afraid it'll betray her and fly away. The creature howls in pain again - the sound intrigues Israfel; it is otherworldly, animallike. Curiosity nestles in her heart like worms in soft summer soil, it burrows and writhes deeper, until it hits bedrock. She feels helpless against this force which is greater than herself.

In a brief moment of hesitation, she wonders what mother would think of her recklessness, of her sheer disregard of personal safety.

Israfel then shrugs, Mama won't know, she accedes, deciding youthful curiosity trumps common sense and swiveling toward the direction of the dreadful dirge, attempting to pinpoint its location. The sun peeks shyly behind ice and ocean and rocks, painting a halo of gold behind the little demigoddess, whose subject has been found. She bounds gracefully over the snowdrifts, wings outstretched for balance, for the footing was icy and treacherous, and she could not risk being hurt in such an unforgiving area.

As she draws closer to the injured creature, she hears it sputter and cough, as if stricken with disease; the beast in question is a tall golden pegasus, although he seems small, strewn out on the snow like a discarded toy. Momentarily, Israfel recoils, eyes wide with caution. "Are you alright?", she asks uncertainly, pausing a safe distance away from his afflicted body. The little demigoddess notices the blood he has lost staining the snow in stark crimson - she blinks, wondering what he will do, and if she will catch it.



Valerion Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#3
Valerion
Crystals of snow cascaded as the wind seized and hauled them from the wounds in the crust placed upon the steppe, his hooves seemingly gaining foothold in a breath of the moment before floundering deep into the snow. Blasted. After the Sun God had taken his leave from the lands of Frostbreath, winter had resumed from the lack of his warming presence. Forever lingering in this forlorn place, he wandered from one border to another in what area he now considered his own. Then again, why shouldn’t he? As far as he knew no one had ever claimed the land as their own and no challenges had ever risen against him. He had to admit that it was a shame; he would have enjoyed watching their attempt of failure.

The snow had decreased to only inches as he closed in on a stream, the current keeping only the stream banks frozen during Birdsong. Valerion dipped his muzzle into the icy water, something that was not only sparse through Frostfall. His head jolted upwards as an agonizing scream pierced through the air, his ears swiveling in a try to catch the origins of the sound, but only silence followed. Such sound was no stranger to his ears and naught could cause such a scream of desperation than a body restrained by immense amounts of pain. Another shriek reached his ears, though this time he did not hesitate as he jerked into canter in hunt of its utterer.

Only minutes went by before he came upon the two intruders. A winged palomino stallion lay sprawled in the snow, coughing so hard it seemed as if he was trying to turn his lungs inside out. A blanket of crimson surrounded him and grew only bigger as blood ran from his open gashes. What he found most interesting however, was the little spectator that had come to his unlikely rescue, doing no more than looking at the wounded stallion with a worried expression upon her brow. She seemed like she was lit on fire, reducing the snow around her to puddles. Could this be .. ? Well, whom else? He mused and a smug smile crept across his lips. It seemed like the Sun God had used his time well, siring bastards upon the mortal.

He set his eyes on the stallion, though it was hard to lift his gaze from the divine filly. He made his presence known as he brushed past her, stopping before the winged-one. “I shall ..” he began, his eyes glinting “.. relieve you of this pain.”
image credits
coding = tempest @ sordid secrets

Azzaron Posts: 85
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17 hh :: 10 years Buff: NOVICE
Dark
#4
Azzaron lifted himself at the young child's appearance."I...."He paused, inhaling. His lungs could not hold much air."I am fine, young child. The Sun god has only given me this curse for the season."He gagged some more, the blood scattered. The pattern on the young filly's wings was detailed. She had both wings and a horn.

As Azzaron gagged he saw another horse come. This one was older than he, a dappled equine.

“I shall .... relieve you of this pain.”

Azzaron jerked back from the stallion as the words escaped his mouth. He feared what this stallion might do. He spread his wings, flapping them madly, and lifting himself many feet above the earth. He struggled to fly, and helplessly crashed back into the permafrost. He huffed, giving up. His fiery colored eyes reflected a sadness so great.

He gagged, disrupting the silence."I do not need help, I cannot be healed." More gagging followed, he swallowed more snow. He grunted as he raised himself, his hocks screaming out in pain. He wanted to die just then.

Azzaron snorted in aggravation as he gagged. The blood pool grew. The snow soaked it up quickly, turning the area around him red. Some of his own palomino body was covered in crusty blood. He closed his eyes, wishing he hadn't been so arrogant.

OOC: Sorry for the late reply.
WC: 224
"When you grow old, you will die and rot on the ground,
Other horses will dance when you all crumble, when your kingdom falls.
When your crowns break."

Israfel Posts: 54
Hidden Account
Filly :: Tribrid :: 16.1 hands :: 2 Years
Sparrow
#5

Israfel Azardokht

What the dying pegasus says causes the filly to raise her eyebrows with surprise; he was on a quest from her father? Why would the sun god cause so much pain, spill so much blood? Cloven hooves reel backward, dumbfounded. "Why would he do this?", she asks softly, with a tone suggesting that the question should be best unanswered. What may have been jealousy, on a better day, is now horror - her sire must have had a very good reason to cast this malediction onto him. She eyes him with a mixture of confusion and disdain; this golden stallion must have done something bad to merit this - something that had even stunned her father, who has dealt with these things since the beginning of time. "What did you do?", she asks, tersely this time, although the palomino would not have a chance to answer her, for another stallion, a grey, arrives. Israfel glances at him suspiciously; she does not like the mask he wears, the way he looks at her - or her wounded acquaintance, for that matter.

He rushes past her, sending the delicate body teetering onto the snow. The words that spill out of his mouth are cocky; Israfel seethes, knowing that no-one has a right to take the life of another, not even her father. When she realizes what he threatens to do, the albino rises clumsily and lurches forward, baby-antler ready to strike this wicked stallion. This stallion will not kill the pegasus, whatever treason he may have committed; Israfel has to get to the bottom of this - perhaps she can make amends between her divine father and this mortal and relieve him of this curse.

Aware that her meek stature would likely not cause this adult to even flinch, the filly darts between them, shielding the weak. "Hurt him and be sorry," she tries to say menacingly, although the words are absurd in the mouth of such a small being; however, the air around them becomes heated - her wings are brandished, liquid fire coursing through the formerly golden henna markings. She hopes this display will discourage the silver male; maybe the palomino will take this as a hint to leave.

Secretly, she hopes this wicked stallion will not dare to hurt her; she does not want to hurt anyone.

Azzaron Posts: 85
Deceased
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17 hh :: 10 years Buff: NOVICE
Dark
#6
[OOC: I'm just gonna say Valerion walked away since he's unregistered now]

Azzaron lay there, the young filly standing beside him. He looked up at her, replying to her questions."I did nothing. I guess I was just being arrogant."He sighed. Then he watched in amazement at what happened next.

"Hurt him and be sorry."

Azzaron watched as the filly tried to sound and look menacing, and it wasn't working so well until her wings catch fire. He watched is amazement, wishing that he too had that ability. But he was getting one, so soon enough he would be able to burn things from the inside. With a smirk he watched the dappled stallion walk away from them. When the stallion was out of sight he looked at the filly, getting up slowly. Pain coursed through his body. He had to bite his lip trying not to scream aloud.

He finally lifted himself up and looked at the filly."May I ask what your name is?"He looked at the filly with his fiery red eyes. He bowed his head to the young filly."Thank you." He lifted his head back up, settling his gaze on the little fire child.

OOC: I'm tired cause I just woke up so excuse my bad post.
WC: 188
"When you grow old, you will die and rot on the ground,
Other horses will dance when you all crumble, when your kingdom falls.
When your crowns break."


Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture