| User-based Random Event |
| Stallion :: Equine :: :: |
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Some say the twilight hour is haunted, a brief moment in time in which the living, breathing world, and that of things more ghostly and spirited in nature collide. The Deep Forest is enshrouded in a darkness that seems enchanted, a gentle breeze sweeping through the clearings amongst the tall, ancient trees. Their wizened, archaic trunks stand tall like pillars of an empire past, immobile and resolute against the erosion and wear of time and history that has past. Overhead a night time sky lingers, iridescent stars gleaming in all their beautiful brilliance in the last moments before the dawn. There have been many things that the trees have seen, from gruesome, deadly wars to harmonious times of peace. There is nothing they have missed, whether it be star crossed lovers, schemes and plots of murder unearthed, the new breath of a life brought into this world, or the easy sigh of death. The knowledge of the woods – and the things within it – is as vast as the deepest fissures in the face of the earth, and as old time itself.
“Apollo.”
A voice seems to echo, eerie and alluring as it bounces and resounds off the foliage of the forest. Wind stirs the debris of the forest ground, throwing loose leaves and tendrils of fine moss into a wispy array in the air. Despite the sound of a name being summoned, the forest seems surprisingly empty. Not a bird or small creature stirs in nature, and despite the zephyr everything else seems unnaturally still. The breeze seems to grow, intensify, and a silent hum follows it as it winds through the copious amounts of trees that give the Deep Forest it’s well deserved name. Beyond the endless expanse of trees, where the horizon becomes a thin line of earth in the distance against the sky, the first few rays of light begin to break from behind the surface. Like desperate fingers they curl toward the still dark sky, trying to chase the stars from their position, and emblazon the land with light. Not yet though, for the stars remain unmoved, and the moon sits quietly in her position, unwavering and unperturbed by the threatening presence of the sun.
“Come to me.”
Again the voice sounds, and it would seem that it was everywhere at once and then nowhere at all, bouncing and reverberating off of the woodland surroundings. The cool, smooth, crisp sound of the words on the predawn air appear to be many individual voices molded and meshed into one, the gentle caressing whisper of a lover, the calm and soothing wisdom of an elder, or the anger of an enemy. It resonates with trembling ferocity through the woods, calling from the heart of the forest, reaching out to the individual that it seeks from amongst all the others. Would he be able to resist the serein sound, or would he follow it to the source?
Only time would tell.
Apollo the Merciful Posts: 251
| Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 11 HP: 63.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Zola :: Black Cat :: None
Sparrow |
"It gives me strength to have somebody to fight for;
’Apollo.’
The voice permeated his dream, stealing his thoughts and focus from the wonderful dreams that had made their home within his unconscious mind. He had been locked in a wonderful dream with Phaedra, running and gallivanting across the white beach of the Endless Blue like two young lovers. Phae’s picturesque beauty seemed even more enthralling, and Apollo couldn’t help but be drawn to her, following every move that she made, watching with loving adoration as the cream, silky tresses of her mane and tail were toyed with by the salty breeze. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to spend more time with her… Yet, the waking world was approaching, snapping him from his doze with extreme confusion.
Lifting his head from his tucked position, legs folded neatly beneath his ebony body, the stallion shook his mane, attempting to clear his mind from the dregs of sleep. Looking around, Apollo’s honey-brown eyes searched for who had spoken to him and summoned him from his slumber. In the Deep Forest, there could only be a few who knew him, and who would have felt the need to wake him. None of the Grey, however, stood about, and a confused and slightly troubled expression tugged at his dark lips. Before he could call out, however, another beckoning floated through the air, causing the overo’s ears to shoot upright, nimble legs pushing himself to his feet. Nostrils flaring, Apollo listened.
’Come to me.’ A demand, yet… Not. There was something odd about it, for no one was about, but Apollo could hear it as if someone was clearly speaking. Was there someone out there?
“Hello…?” He called at last rather timidly, taking one step forward. The moon was high in the sky, renegade rays of moonlight managing to permeate through the thick canopy of the trees. There was little darkness in Helovia quite like the Deep Forest in the middle of the night, but right now, the stallion had a lot more to worry about than his fear of the dark. Besides; he had fought wolves and sea-monsters. “Who’s there?”
No answer.
Looking left and right, honey-brown eyes trying to squint and peer through the darkness, he could see nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary, however… Inhaling deeply to try and steel his already trembling nerves, the unicorn took one step forward, hooves crunching softly against the undergrowth. With one step came another, and then another, and before long, Apollo was wandering through the forest, searching for the voice who had called to him.
I can never fight for myself, but, for others, I can kill."
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| User-based Random Event |
| Stallion :: Equine :: :: |
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As the stallion walks through the night, little does he know that he is being watched, though by what exactly it might be hard to describe. Around him nature hums, pulsating and very much alive, despite the assumption that when darkness falls everything else falls still as well. His footsteps, gentle, soft resounding thuds upon the soft loam of the forest floor, echo and resonate with each step he takes. His travel is accompanied by the scant starlight that manages to filter down through the thick canopy of the trees that loom over his head, massive tree trunks wrought with the scars of time’s passing, a whisper of wisdom slides past them and through the leaves of their branches with caress of a gentle night wind, an internal possession of knowledge bestowed to those who have existed far longer than the rest.
The breeze, oddly strong for existing beneath the cover of the trees, picks up the debris of moss and twigs and leaves that are scattered at the unicorn’s hooves. They twirl and whirl through the air in front of his path, seeming to lead in one direction, and the hum of the forest seems to grow stronger. The wind, like an old friend, beckons the inky black and ivory mottled boy to travel further. At the end of the path he journey’s on stands a mighty oak, far larger than the brethren that surround it and its great, archaic roots rise up out of the soil in great curvatures and arches. They are big enough that a full grown unicorn could pass beneath them with considerable room left between the two. At the crest of the exposed roots lays a small pool, crystal clear as a cloudless sky and deep enough that it would rise to the shoulder of any equine. The surface is unnaturally smooth, like glass, and in a patterned arrangement upon the gravel at its bottom rest several smooth, rounded stones the color of an opal gem. The harmonic and melodious hum of nature seems to amplify itself within the presence of the stones, and as the unicorn draws near the same said stones begin to glow.
The water, one smooth and undisturbed, begins to bubble, and the beautiful gemstones within the bottom begin to shake and glow brighter, until they are swept up by a whirlpool formed in the water’s center. The whirlpool seems to reverse itself, rising upward toward the lofty branches of the trees, and from the geyser a form begins to take shape, swirling and twirling toward the banks of the water, the radiant light, a brilliant luminescent blue, growing ever brighter until it seems to permeate every inch of the darkness, invading the shadows of the woods and chasing them away. The same hum of life that has followed Apollo reaches its apex, and as the light becomes almost unbearable, so does the energy that seems to resound through the forest in a magnitude of indescribable power. And then suddenly, everything seems to stop.
The creature that appears is the image of a white stag, stepping forward from the wall of liquid onto the forest floor that surrounded the glowing pool. The water falls back into its basin instantly, and the brightness of its light dims slightly. Trails of water still cling to his shimmering, shifting, translucent image, passing off of him in wisps of silvery smoke, akin to something like spider webs. His striking antlers span in an ornate display above his elegant head, bone white and beautiful, and upon their surface seems to be many runes and markings of the unintelligible kind. The markings glow the same brilliant blue as the stones within the pool from which he stepped, as do his pupiless eyes. He looms before Apollo, graceful and majestic, staring unwaveringly at the unicorn with virtuous patience and calm. Slowly the ancient stag moves forward, his transparent image shifting with his motions, making him appear ghost like in substance, glimmering silver and ivory white. A few strides away from the stallion he halts, bowing his great head and lowering himself to one knee, so that the tines of his antlers may strike the soil. Slowly and with clear intent the stag creates several parallel lines in the dirt beneath him, dragging the tines across the earth. Once done he rises, the marks left behind glowing with the same residue that appears to mark the many intricate runes that lace and filigree his antlers, the same light that now floods the darkened forest.
“Son of the earth, your heart is true, and your kindness and compassion have not gone unnoticed.”
The stag’s voice takes on the quality of the same voice that had called to Apollo in his sleep. To the mortal it would appear that it is not just one voice, but many speaking at once, and they echo and resonate around him in a chorus of unimaginable magnitude, invading the thoughts and the mind.
“For this, you shall be rewarded.” The stag then dips his head, gesturing to the glowing fissures in the ground that lay between them. “Step forward into the fractures of the earth, and kneel amongst the lights.”
Apollo the Merciful Posts: 251
| Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 11 HP: 63.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
|
Zola :: Black Cat :: None
Sparrow |
"It gives me strength to have somebody to fight for;
His solitary journey was both long and short. Through the tress the painted stallion walked, hesitance marring every step. Honey-brown eyes continued to look for the sound of the voice, the nearly God-like baritone that had rumbled throughout the dark shadows of the Deep Forest. His nostrils were wide, inhaling the scents offered by his home, the musky scent of vegetation clear on the breeze. The thick, ebony strands of Apollo’s mane whipped to and fro as the breeze picked up, a strange burst of energy that caused his hide to prick and shiver. There was something unnatural about the wind, yet it was far from a threatening kind of malevolence…
“Who’s there?” He called again, moving one leg in front of the other, seeming to move as if in a daze. Was this a dream? No, it couldn’t be, for he had just awoken from a dream… A dream within a dream? Surely not. Following the trail that was so obviously created for him to follow, Apollo swallowed thickly, pausing in his steps and turning his neck to glance back at the way he had come. Surely this wasn’t a trap…? No, no, definitely not, for it just didn’t feel like whatever it was meant to harm him. Twisting his head around to face in front of him, the unicorn stag inhaled deeply once more and continued along the journey, tail swishing slightly as he moved.
What could be out there? What could be calling for him, summoning him? Had he done something wrong?
It wasn’t long before the stag came to a clearing, with a giant oak as its centerpiece. It had obviously been here for a long time, and as he ventured closer to it, mindful of the pool of water that had collected at its base, Apollo couldn’t help but gaze up into the arching branches of its canopy. It was beautiful, as far as trees could go, but there was something more… Grand, about this certain tree, something unexplainable yet magnificent. It was as if the energy that he could feel pulsing throughout the forest was centered upon this place, this pool of reverence… Then, before his very eyes, the pool began to glow, then churn, the crystal clear waters combined with the beautiful gems resting at the pool’s bottom creating a beautiful cataclysm of colors and shades. Simply due to the strangeness of the situation, Apollo took a step back, surprised as the water suddenly shot upwards into the sky. Never in all his years had he seen something like this… And that was coming from the stallion who had seen the Kraken, and lived to tell about it.
Apollo’s honeyed orbs took in the strangest thing, then, watching with pure awe as a creature formed, taking the body of a white stag. This… Was this who had summoned him? Who was it? Reverence leaked from every fiber of the creature’s ethereal body, and the overo barely resisted the urge to bow. Or, should he? He watched as it moved, tongue tied and silent, kneeling down to dig it’s magnificent horns into the earth below, marring the earth with respect. The fissures it created began to glow as well, and frantically Apollo tried to wrap his mind around just what he was seeing. This was all so strange, so complex, yet… So beautiful and humbling.
Then, it spoke. Or, they spoke, for when the deep syllables left the white-stag’s lips, many voices seemed to reverberate off of the trees around him. Apollo looked from the stag to the fissures of the ground, unsure. Could he deny this creature? No, of course not, for this being was much greater than he…
“Your Grace,” Apollo began, his voice trembling only slightly, though not in fear, “I don’t know what I’ve done to be rewarded, but…” He trailed off, uncertain. What could he say? With a slight shake of his head, the stallion ventured forward, albeit hesitantly. His steps were light, and as the white-stag commanded, the unicorn knelt down before the glowing fissures of the earth. “… Thank you, and I accept whatever you wish to bestow upon me with a grateful heart.”
I can never fight for myself, but, for others, I can kill."
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