Dragon's Throat Soldier |
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.4 :: 4 |
FennecFyre |
Aryel had spent long hours in the desert training her body, kicking dry trees until the bark was cracked, stretching every muscle in an attempt to discover her strength and flexibility limits. She had trained her body, but had no idea how to train her mind, until she saw the marsh stretching before her as she flew one day. A blanket of fog had hung over the marsh, obscuring it from aerial view. Intrigued, she had descended, skimming over the treetops. Suddenly, something had screamed in the underbrush far below, prompting the spooked pegasus to wheel away in fright.
Today, she had returned to do more than fly over the trees. If she was going to be a proper soldier, she needed to stop jumping at shadows.
Coming to the marsh to desensitize herself to fear had seemed like a good idea at first, but now she was starting to wonder if it was a foolish idea instead. Several slips into seemingly-shallow mud had left her coat with gunk almost to her knees, sweat streaked her neck and sides, and the mosquitoes were unbearable. More than one log had opened it's eyes and become an alligator as she passed (not that she wanted to get close to the stagnant water anyway) and she had seen the bloated, half-eaten rotting carcass of some unfortunate ungulate laying in the water once. Strange calls drifted through the thin, pale trees, and she had heard faint whispering every now and then, including a malicious chuckle that she still wasn't sure she had imagined. She had managed not to bolt during her walk into the marsh, but every muscle in her body was tensed with the effort, and she had to force herself to take each step forward. This swamp redefined creepy. But was most unsettling was the slowly-darkening sky, the too-close-together branches that would make it almost impossible to simply fly away, and the sinking suspicion that she was hopelessly lost.
The mare stopped, cursing herself for her stupidity. She hadn't even planned on how to get back out. Why couldn't she ever think things through? She cast a doubtful look back at her path, already unable to discern which trail was safe and which was dangerous, sucking quicksand and mud. With a sigh, she looked up at the sky, barely visible through the branches above her. She couldn't fly away. Should she keep walking, risking being sucked into the stinking mud, or stay here? "Wish I had never even come here." she muttered, shifting indecisively.
Walk walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk talk."
ARYEL</style> In blood and honor, we will prevail.</style>
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image by gpabill @ flickr.com
Thanks for the good times, and no hard feelings for the bad times.
Vicer and Aryel's new threads never happened.
User-based Random Event |
Stallion :: Equine :: :: |
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02-14-2013, 06:53 PM
(This post was last modified: 02-14-2013, 06:54 PM by NPC.)
H A H A H A H A
There are monsters in the swamp, more monsters than simple alligators; much more malicious, devious, crazed creatures, blood-drinkers and haunting beasts, things that stalk and things that crawl, and it's a simple matter of what you draw when you walk into the maze, for not one horse walks alone within for long.
The mare, of course, is not aware of it, but there were two things watching her; pale specters and centipedes and spiders, thousands upon thousands, but it all depends on which way she turns.
Left or right, which will she choose? All that can be heard are haunting laughs and the clicking sounds of pincers ahead of her, and darkness closes in behind. Two choices, two choices of death or life, two choices of terror.
[Not sure if this has to be over 250]
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Dragon's Throat Soldier |
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.4 :: 4 |
FennecFyre |
The growing sense of panic within her was rapidly becoming near-impossible to fight down. She may have been sentient, but she was still a prey animal, and one of the strongest instincts she possessed was to flee. Her blue eyes cast about the swamp, ears swiveling one way to catch a hint of distant speech, then quickly turning again as something clicked and chittered. Something moved underhoof, causing her to dance and snort, clamping her jaws together to avoid crying out. For some reason, she was afraid to make a sound in the marsh, afraid to add her own timid voice to the cacophony of calls and shrieks in the underbrush. She almost worried it would alert something to her presence. From someone else's point of view, someone who was aware of the creatures that already watched her, it was almost laughable.
She cast a doubtful look backwards at the dark woods behind her. No way she could pick her way through that again. Was the worst of the bog behind her? Wishful thinking, she thought with a grimace before looking at the divergent path (at least she hoped it was a path and not a patch of quicksand) before her. Something chittered again, and she jumped. Was that some sort of bug? What kind of insect even sounded like that? Aryel hated venomous insects. Hated them with a passion. Bees could leave her paralyzed in terror, and spiders skittered on the ground sent her skittering in the opposite direction. She did that now, taking the path that seemed farthest from the creepy bug sounds in a tentative walk, her hoofbeats too conspicuous in her mind. She wanted nothing more than to break into a gallop and run blindly, fully surrendering to the animal terror that threatened to overwhelm her. She resisted. Just barely. If she lost control here, it would be almost certain death.
Even as she walked away from the animal noises, the chilling whispers and laughs that hung in the back of her mind plagued her. Once or twice she thought she saw something pale flitting through the trees in the distance, and shadows seemed to hang in the corners of her vision, moving and twisting out to reach her until she turned her head to look directly at the spot. Was she just imagining things, or was this place really...
No. There was no such things as ghosts. No such thing, no such thing, she repeated in her mind, trying to block out the noises. For a moment, her posture resumed it's usual cocky carriage, but then a bubble of swamp gas burped quietly in a nearby pool and she flinched again. Was she even going the right way? The swamp couldn't last forever...right?
(The clicking pincers you mentioned sort of remind me of the chaurus from Skyrim :p
Got insectophobia?)
Walk walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk talk."
ARYEL</style> In blood and honor, we will prevail.</style>
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