the Rift


amicus quod prosapia | Destrier, NPC

Tor Posts: 197
World's Edge Nurse
Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9
Adoptable
#1



What is it about Helovia that draws her in? The gods? Or perhaps there is some more dark force abroad, the sort of force that comes and enthralls, the kind of glue a spider web has, the glue that keeps you stuck. No, that would not make sense. So Tor pauses, relaxes, and tucks knees, lying down under the sun so warm and hazy. Even despite wanting to join the Edge, some habits are not easily undone, and so she acts for now as if she is still wanderer, even if her white hide holds a faint trace of the salt of the sea from the Endless Blue as she makes a roundabout way to the Edge.

However, the pale mare cannot deny she has, ever so slowly, been completely enraptured by this sweet golden land, neither can she deny slowly her want for wandering as lessened, loosened its vices on her, until she settled down. Well, perhaps not physically- not yet anyways.

Tor lets the long grass wave sweet and golden around her pale, pure cream body, lets the sun stroke her face as it descends towards the horizon, a glowering eye that scowls and flickers, painting the sky with ruby and orange blood, and soon it sinks behind the mountains, and the stars and moon begin to rise into the indigo sky.

More and more often she wonders if she should simply go home now, back to the frozen land where the sun reminds high or stays down under the horizon for weeks. Maybe at least to visit, would be a good idea. Yes... she should go to visit. Mother and father will be missing her, wondering of her.


"TOR"




WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.

Destrier Posts: 180
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.3hh :: 16 HP: 65.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Suli :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath & Merlin :: Plain Black Dragon :: Frost Breath Dingo
#2


HEROES MAY DIE


As of late, thoughts of Vallhea had ever so slowly been ebbing away in the Friesian's mind, being replaced with his own worries of the World's Edge. The ones he had met thus far were kind and openly accepting of him, and he couldn't wait to get to know them more. Despite this, though, there was a void deep within him that he wasn't sure could ever be filled. The very space that his love for Bran had once filled.

On this day, Destrier had found himself clambering up the steepest of hills, an adventurer's spirit keeping his feet ever moving. He was not sure exactly why he had wandered from the Edge, or what he was even looking for; perhaps nothing, and at the same time, everything. "Listen to you," came the steed's thoughts as he neared the lip of the hill, sending a hundred tiny rocks rolling down the length of it, "You've grown soft." And, maybe he had. Or maybe, he was simply hurting for comfort, as much as he didn't want to admit it.

Finally he had scaled the incline, and what the narrow path had opened up to was simply beautiful. The Friesian stood in silence for a moment, allowing his dark eyes to take in the scenery. Here, the grass was the greenest he thought possible, and the clouds seemed as though they could touch your back. There is a dense silence settled over the land, but it is opposite the sort that makes one uncomfortable and on edge.

Just as he began to venture deeper into the heavenly land, he spotted a familiar figure not far from him. It was the whitening body of Tor, the mare he had met on the western beaches of Helovia. They had shared many words, many thoughts, and she had been a common subject on his mind since their departure. She looked as if part of a painting, her form melding into the blue sky settled behind her. A warm smile was impossible to keep from his face, and picking up into a smooth, even trot, he closed the space between them rather quickly. "This is a lovely place," he spoke up, hoping that he hadn't startled the pale maiden, "I wasn't expecting to find anyone else up here."


BUT LEGENDS ENDURE

Image Credits


You may attack and use magic on Des at any time for any reason.

HP: 66.5

Tor Posts: 197
World's Edge Nurse
Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9
Adoptable
#3



Tor hadn't been alone for long- and it wasn't a stranger who approached her with his easy gait and endearing dark eyes. Before seeing him, however, she heard him, the clatter and rattle of small pebbles and stones clattering down a hill. The stygian approached, smelling distinctly of Edge, a serene little smile on his face as he came. He was dark against the crimson of the aging sky, the sky bleeding out in golds and rubies, yellows and indigos, deepening slowly and quickly becoming spangled in stars, rather like the rump of an Appaloosa.

Healer Tor rises to her feet, shaking out the stiffness with a brisk twist of her head, thick cream mane coming to lie against a pearl neck. Finally, so many years later, she has become white, and now her coat seemed to glitter against Destrier's ebony. "Destrier," Tor said warmly, taking the last few steps towards him, leaving the comfortable space of two friends between them. She listens with a gentle, sweet, open expression in her eyes, the sort of expression that welcomes any questions the black steed may have of her. "Yes, it is rather pretty, isn't it?" The marble mare replies, letting her eyes drift over the crimson-soaked grass- but really, she is looking at him, the sharp angles of his noble head, his strong legs. Is this what Phaedra does? Constantly look at stallions? "Neither was I expecting to find anyone here- it does seem very lonely up here." And it did. With the mountains around you, peaks sharp and angular, clouds low and drifting with red bottoms, the wind singing a serenade- nice, perhaps, but lonely.

"What's that?" Tor noticed something- but what? She turned her head to the right of Destrier, frowning slightly.


"TOR"




image credit
WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.

NPC Posts: 298
User-based Random Event
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#4


NPC; BIRDZ

It appears that the bird attacks come in waves with long intervals between. The reason for this does not seem clear as yet.



Organization.

Ultimately, that is the key.

And timing. That was also the key.

And-

"Jesus Vergil, just fucking fly, wouldja?"


The Birds were coming.

Were there hundreds? Thousands? Their black bodies were too tightly knit together to tell; but they came like a wave, and they came fast. Their wings, hundreds of them moving together simultaneously sounded like a dull buzz as they neared. The sound was so uniform, that it could be the wind…almost. But there was something too sinister in the even, forceful, pounding of it, that would seem say, This isn't the wind. What it actually seemed to say was, "You're fucked"

The direction in which Tor was gazing, looked probably as if a giant black screen was slowly being raised from the horizon, to the skyline. They moved solidly, in uniform. Organization is key, after all. They were still too far away to determine breed, or even size, but it was clear now from the slight variance of movement around the edges, that they were definitely avian. In their entirety, their flock spanned about 50 feet across, and 20 feet high, although as they flew this shape ebbed and flowed. To Tor and Destrier, it likely appeared slow and deliberate, liked the fins of a giant sting-ray, gently moving up and down. Within the flock however, there were orders and criticisms being flung about. And if Tor and Destrier could hear these voices, they would have sounded like they spoke with a poor-mans accent. "Can't we 'ust get 'em a'ready?" "Keep yar bugger feet of'a me!" "Now Lads! Remember! Organization is-" (In Unison) "SHUT UP VIRGIL"


The Birds were coming.





*Quote from Alfred Hitchcocks, The Birds.


Destrier Posts: 180
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.3hh :: 16 HP: 65.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Suli :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath & Merlin :: Plain Black Dragon :: Frost Breath Dingo
#5


HEROES MAY DIE


Her eyes are soothingly soft, drawing him in with interest. She agrees when the beauty of the land is brought into question, and subconsciously, the Friesian gave the slightest nod of his head. In a deep, dark crevice of his mind, however, he cannot say that the fields are quite as beautiful as she is, with her now completely pale coat. Standing together, they are yin and yang, night and day. Complete opposites, yet they seem to have so much in common. He releases a soft breath at the thought, but he speaks nothing of it.

Before Destrier can even form another question in his head, the draft speaks up, an innocent question leaving her lips. For a second he was unsure what she was talking about, but upon turning his head, he saw them. It looked like a swarm of darkness coming towards them, moving ever so slowly in the distance when really, he was certain that whatever it was, was moving much faster. A couple more seconds of observation told him that it was a massive flock of birds, and they were headed right for them. He was unsure what the extent of damage a bunch of birds could do, or if they really would try and do something, but he didn't want to take the chance.

"Let's move, Tor," he spoke up, and at that he turned his body, moving away from their position in the middle of the field. Up here, there was nowhere to hide, not unless they took off back down the steep hill that led them here in the first place. "Do you think they'll try anything?"


BUT LEGENDS ENDURE

Image Credits


You may attack and use magic on Des at any time for any reason.

HP: 66.5

Tor Posts: 197
World's Edge Nurse
Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9
Adoptable
#6



It was something big, this thing, dark as the moon, fluttering, ebbing and moving in unison. It was uncanny, this something, the way it shuddered and seemed to breathe. Yet what kind of animal blotted out the baby blue of the sky, what animal seemed to have no hard lines, no real beginning and no end? Not in all her travels had she seen anything like it. The closest, maybe, she could come to in conclusion was some kind of flock of birds, like the numbers that soar together south in the winter.

Unease prickles her stomach, but the draft pushes it away insistently. Nothing should- would?- disrupt her quiet, peaceful time with Destrier. Right? Right. But he comments as well on the flock, questioning the suitability of cover, and she tears her eyes away from the clearly avian being. "Honestly, Des? I'm really not sure." That was before the hum- the eerie, sinister whine that grew louder, the buzz that seemed to vibrate in her teeth, despite being nowhere near that loud. Some instinct was telling her to hide, the flight reaction that fueled horses into wild panic.

She moves beside him, the plain seeming uncomfortably open now, quite unlike the soothing sun and serenity it had brought just moments before. The sky still glistened blue around the cloud, with a faint golden glitter where the sun shone bright. The grass is crushed underfoot as she moves beside the stallion, black as night, even darker than the cloud above.

"TOR"




image credit
WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.

NPC Posts: 298
User-based Random Event
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#7

NPC; VERGIL
& the Birdz



And just where, little ducks, shall you run?

"OY! Oy is Chester pullin' ahead? 'E is ain't 'e? OY. Oy VERGIL Why don' you do som'fing, then?" This brought a cacophony of cackles from the other birds as they began to fly in a more scattered formation. "Now Lads" Came Vergil's pompous if not slightly condescending voice from the fray. "Chester is most certainly not pulling ahead, are you Chester, and remember -" "Yeah yeah, stick togeth'r. But I call an eye!"
"What's that then? If 'e gets to call an eye, I want 'er tongue!"
"I want 'er tongue!"
"Take 'is"
"Are you rattl'd? I don't want boy tongue. Just what are you sayin'?"
"Oy Vergil you good for nothin' ball of piss, Chester is pullin' ahead!"
"Well if 'e is, so am I!"

It had begun.

The ebb of the massive flock of birds had begun to wane, and, as the birds discussed the parts of Destrier and Tor they would most like to consume, came apart entirely. It was as if one giant ethereal thing had suddenly burst at its seams, releasing hundreds of black molted birds. These birds resembled crows, but were much larger and more sinister looking. They possessed beady red eyes, razor sharp talons, and a voracious appetite for horse flesh.

In truth, Vergil was trying to teach his flock the finer points of Game Theory. He knew, that if they could work as a group, they would be victorious on far more occasions, and on a much larger scale than if they considered only themselves. However, his flock had an immensely short attention span, and also thought he was a bit of a git, so he was having a rough go of things. Feeling his own stomach rumble unpleasantly, he sighed, giving up. They could try again tomorrow - there were always horses roaming around this field, after all.

"Alright lads. Let's get 'em" Vergil's accent broke as he allowed hunger to take over. Leading a charge, the small yellowish bird dove towards Tor, with a spiral of black at his tail-feathers. The other half of the group, likewise broke off heading towards Destrier. As they zeroed in, in tandem, they evenly spaced themselves out and began to circle the two horses, spinning faster and faster; closer and closer, though never touching them. "Well done boys!" Vergil called from somewhere in the silo. They were finally learning! If Tor and Destrier remained still, they would be unhurt, but eventually, one of them would panic and bolt, slicing themselves on gyrating talons and beaks for their efforts.



Destrier Posts: 180
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.3hh :: 16 HP: 65.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Suli :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath & Merlin :: Plain Black Dragon :: Frost Breath Dingo
#8


HEROES MAY DIE


As they move away from their original position, near the middle of the wide open field, Destrier had the fleeting thought that they might be safe, that the birds were simply migrating somewhere else and would merely pass over them. But when the sound of flapping wings became louder and louder, the Friesian's thoughts were changed drastically. The sound was sinister, dangerous, and his equine instinct told him to run.

But there was only one way down, the very same, steep incline he'd fought against to get here in the first place. It could prove dangerous to go running down it at full speed, and even if they tried, would they be successful? Would the birds not simply catch up to them anyways?

It was comforting to know that Tor was at his side, taking their steps in unison as they kept their feet moving, eyes ever keen and watchful of the flock. Within seconds, it became obvious that this would turn out to be something much different than either of them had originally intended. No longer was this a peaceful day, for the birds were descending upon them, their ravenous eyes locked on himself and the painted mare. Soon, they were engulfed by the crow-like birds, locked in a tornado of feathers and claws.

Destrier, for as calm and level-headed a creature he was, felt his panic meter rising with every avian that flittered past his face. Instinct told him to lash out at them, to try and make a sort of door to escape from, but the same question formed in his mind again. Where would they go? Black ears tipping backwards, the Friesian managed to keep his feet planted into the ground, and out came his deep, rumbling voice. "What do you want, birds?" He called out over the almost deafening sound of the flock, "We've done you no wrong. Leave us be."


BUT LEGENDS ENDURE

Image Credits


You may attack and use magic on Des at any time for any reason.

HP: 66.5

Tor Posts: 197
World's Edge Nurse
Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9
Adoptable
#9



Birds. They flood inwards, flickering wings and glistening eyes, hard and unwelcoming, terrifying, claws razor and beaks sharp, with the hunger of a predator. They split into two flocks, an ugly flurry of wings, black wings, wings that flap and drown out all else, a cacophony of crawing and croaking, and the numbers are so large the grass swirls under the wind created by their wings, exploding into existence. Eyes glittered menacing red, blood red, crimson red.

Panic threatened to engulf, to fill her to the brim, send her galloping. It was only Destrier's voice, hardly audible over the roar of their wings, that kept her still and trembling. Her panicked head was filled with questions- what were they? Where did they come from? Why was there no shelter? If they could get in the trees, would they be safe? How would this work? What about Destrier? Even if she did escape- unlikely as it was- wouldn't they just teem upon the dark stallion she was irrevocably falling for?

More panic. It flooded her, washed away logic and common sense, filled with the ancient, intimate sense of fight or fly like the wind. It was a right proper sense too, born into every horse in order to keep them alive. The wind seemed to howl around her, sending her mane twisting. Why hadn't she ever thought of some sort of defensive magic? Stupid. "Leave us alone!" Tor snarled, legs trembling and ears pinned.

Her eyes look for Des but cannot find them, seperated as they are.

Moments pass, and she cannot wait any longer. "Run, Destrier! Get to the mountains!" She shrieks, as loud as she can, and explodes into action, attempting her escape through the wall of birds to Destrier, where they could make a run for it, together.

[Ergh not my best post... ;-;]


"TOR"




image credit
WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.


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