the Rift


[FALLS] Living is What You're Supposed to do

Lev Fence Posts: 26
Windtossed Foothills Warrior
Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 41 months
Adoptable
#1

Lev Fence</style>

They sank their teeth into him until he bled black. They tore him apart with scythes of the reaper and shredded his spirit. It had taken his all to survive.

Now, it took everything he had left to keep on living.

He did not walk to the threshold, he stumbled. He was incapable of any movement more graceful than a lurching stagger to force himself forward, for forward was away from the sodom of Anarore. He remembered little more than the constant surging battle against darkness. He remembered his name only faintly, as if it belonged to someone else. It felt strange as it lurked there in the back of his mind. He did not ever wish to speak it again.

In little more than a year he had somehow become an old warrior: a relic of a battle-torn age that no longer belonged in his own world. His once perfectly kept mane and tail now trailed behind him in little more than a mess of stray locks and torn ribbons. He had gone unwashed for countless days; his own blood still stained his back and hindquarters and coated his muzzle from where the shadows had ripped open his flesh. Exhaustion led to defeat; he found himself no longer caring about his looks. The new marking of his struggle, which had appeared in the night as if by magic and grown bolder ever since, adorned his dust and grime-stained foreleg. It reminded him of the warmth of his homeland- the warmth that was so different from this cold and unfamiliar wind. The air here tasted different and the sky seemed to take on a new hue. Life here was unnatural.

But then again, life here was living. The cold mountain wind that tore through the trees made the forest whistle and hum all about him. The faint cries of birds in the distance painted the scenery with a vivaciousness that the grey trotter could not ever remember seeing- not because he had not seen it, but simply because he had forgotten it existed. He flinched at every passing of shadow across his body as he pulled himself forward through the unfamiliar wood; he watched the noon shadows ahead with wary, pale blue eyes. He could be safe here, he thought. He could be free and, at last, he could live.

He only hoped that he still wanted to.


Credits

Ktulu the Constrictor Posts: 509
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 70.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Eytan :: Grizzly Bear :: Terrorize ali
#2
[Image: 50a7eed791df8]

KTULU THE CONSTRICTOR

from adversity, heroes are born



Only on rare occasions did Ktulu go to the Threshold and just wander aimlessly. She'd become comfortable in the Foothills, allowing those who wanted to join her to come of their own accord and ask for acceptance. The number of those wanting to join were dwindling and her desire for more to join her was growing. Seeds of paranoia had begun to plant themselves in her mind and at times she allowed them to grow. Often times she wondered who in the other herds would be out for her and her own. Surely someone would see them for the threat they were and would want to put an end to them.

Or try to.

Dark ears tilted forward when the forest suddenly became deathly quiet. The black dun mare glanced to the right, seeing the hind end of her companion quietly slipping into the woods. In the distance she could hear the crashing of another, larger, body moving through the forest. Soon flashes of white and red filled her mind and she began moving in the direction the crashing was coming from, hoping to meet whoever it was head on.

As she moved through the trees she was reminded of when she and her sister had passed in this very same forest seeking asylum in Heloiva. It made her wonder what the newcomer was running from, which she assumed he was running based only upon the haphazard crashing she heard. Her path altered according to the mental directions that Eytan was sending her as he tracked the newcomer's path.

Ktulu put herself in Fence's path and waited for him silently, her expression schooled to its usual emotionless indifference. Her head was turned down slightly in a defensive manner should the newcomer be a fool and think to run her down.



ooc:// eh, sorry for the crapish post :<


Icon by Tay

Lev Fence Posts: 26
Windtossed Foothills Warrior
Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 41 months
Adoptable
#3

Lev Fence</style>

She appeared before him very suddenly, as if she had expected him- as if he was the one out of the loop. Almost as if it was he who appeared before her. She held some sort of authority and she made it clear. He could see it in her mildly hostile stance and her powerful build. He could sense it in the light that shone upon her horn and in the eyes of the bear that so loyally stood tame by her side. He stopped his reckless, broken walk forward and stood solid but breaking before her.

He almost opened his mouth to speak. It would be so easy to just introduce himself as always. He could feel the words rising in the back of his throat: Lev Fence, at your service. But the ladies call me Fence.

But he didn't want to say them anymore. They felt sour and wrong, and he didn't even have that same sort of flirtatious confidence. Perhaps it was the blood and grime covering his once pure coat, or the loose mane and tail, but he had forgotten what it was like to feel pretty. He had even forgotten what it was like to see pretty. The mare before him was likely very attractive, but he saw her as nothing but dull.

He felt defeated and tired. It wasn't any sort of pride or strength that kept him standing, it was instead that the idea of bending to rest was even more daunting. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get in your way," he choked out in a voice made raspy from disuse that followed an averted gaze and an uneasy pawing at the ground. His blue gaze instead traced the shadows on the ground with a certain sort of bitterness. Shadows... the damned shadows. He still felt like he was running. He still didn't feel safe.

"Could you direct me to safe haven? I don't mean to bother you for long," he asked with a sigh and a flick of a tail that once would have stayed put but now caught dirt and twigs. He leaned intently forward on a marked leg, ready to continue the monotonous trek to a place where he could maybe rest and heal. But if he were to rest... he was scared to sleep. Scared, in part, of what would come in the night, but just as scared of not waking up.

Credits

Ktulu the Constrictor Posts: 509
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 70.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Eytan :: Grizzly Bear :: Terrorize ali
#4
[Image: 50a7eed791df8]

KTULU THE CONSTRICTOR

from adversity, heroes are born



The stallion came to a stop and stood before her, looking all the worse for the wear and ready to collapse into a heap. Ktulu's head tilted to the left and she eyed the stallion with her right eye, tail flicking from side to side in a steady manner. The filth that covered him was a mixture of blood and dirt that left her to wonder where he had come from and if he had fought battles that gave him those cuts that made him bleed or if he'd run like a coward and been attacked on his way out from wherever it was he had come from.

Her ears tilted back when he apologized for getting in her way and she snorted her response. Already, she was assuming him to be a pushover and pushovers had no room in the Grey no matter how they needed members to boost their numbers. His request of a safe haven was ignored as she stared him down, weighing her options. Finally she decided that he might be worth giving a chance.

"Are you a warrior?" She asked calmly. "And who are you running from?" The scent on him, she realized, smelled of Isilme. Could he be from her home or just an unwitting traveler who happened into the forsaken land?




Icon by Tay

Lev Fence Posts: 26
Windtossed Foothills Warrior
Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 41 months
Adoptable
#5

Lev Fence</style>

She didn't answer him, not really, but he was too exhausted to protest. His spirit was broken and he was beaten to the point of submission. He would do anything she told him to, and take her every word as if it were a tenant to live by. He needed something to lean on, to rely on. He was in an impressionable state, waiting to be taken advantage of by someone or thing.

Strange how the roles reversed in times of need. He watched her closely with hardened blue eyes and traced the line of her warrior's carriage. He kept telling himself she was gorgeous; he did not feel that she was gorgeous.

Her voice seemed brusque but she did not seem particularly unkind. He perked his ears to listen and did what he could to straighten his weakened figure and compose himself. She asked if he was a warrior- was he? He had fought before he had run for one of the few times in his life, but had he not fought only to survive? Could he really call himself a warrior?

"I can hold my own," he replied modestly with a dry swallow and a raspy neigh. "Usually, anyway. I have run, now, from the shadows that have overtaken my old home: Isilme." I am lucky I even survived he continued in his mind as he slowly lifted his aching head to catch her powerful gaze. She was handsome, he decided. Handsome was a good word. But she was not handsome in any sort of way the stallion appreciated. He wanted to, yet he did not. He told himself it was the exhaustion and the heavy stink of old blood smattered across his dirty-white pelt.

But the only one he could not lie to was himself.

Credits

Ktulu the Constrictor Posts: 509
Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 70.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Eytan :: Grizzly Bear :: Terrorize ali
#6
[Image: 50a7eed791df8]

KTULU THE CONSTRICTOR

from adversity, heroes are born



"I can hold my own."

The modesty in the beaten stallion's turn made Ktulu's crimson eyes narrow, but it was the mention of shadow monsters that caught her attention more.

"Isilme."

The name of her birthplace came like a kick in the gut that threatened to leave her gasping for air. The slight widening of her eyes was the only hint that she knew of the land he spoke of, but inside she fell apart. Glimpses of her past flashed before her eyes, from playing on the beach to Ophelia being stolen by Nyra, to needing her sister's help to escape the monsters. "Isilme." She said the name. "You come from my birthplace." She informed the stallion. "I know of the monsters you speak. You're lucky to have made it out, many warriors fell defending their home in pointless battle." Among the fallen were warriors she had come to call 'friend'.

"Anyone who can escape from Isilme can do more than just 'hold their own'." She said to the stallion. "I am Ktulu, Chieftess of the Foothills and leader of the Grey's Executioners." She began. "You will be hard pressed to find a sanctuary in Helovia, but if you desire the thrill of battle and have a thirst for strengthening yourself and learning the art of war you will find your place among my warriors." She paused only a moment before continuing on. "If you desire a place among my ranks then you will accompany me to the Foothills. If you still seek sanctuary you will find it in the World's Edge."




Icon by Tay

Lev Fence Posts: 26
Windtossed Foothills Warrior
Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 41 months
Adoptable
#7

Lev Fence</style>

He watched her expression shift ever so slightly; saw the widening of her eyes when he spoke of his old home. He wasn't sure it was fair to call a place where he'd only sojourned home, but it was all he had anymore. All he had was the memory of a mystic wood and then blackness.

He exhaled deeply and relaxed somewhat as she began to speak freely. The atmosphere was suddenly more comfortable, as if there was some modicum of respect between the two near strangers. She went on and it became quickly clear that Isilme was more to her than just a foreign name rolling from the trotter's tongue. Suddenly, the two had something very important in common.

His own eyes widened with surprise as she explained her knowledge of the shadow-ruined land and went on to speak of her apparently important role here, in this new, still unnamed land. He thought, too, that he heard a compliment of sorts in her slew of speech. But he couldn't be sure, and she did not seem the type to praise anyone lightly or often. On any other, better day, were his mane still tied and his confidence still high, he would have assumed her words all carried some sense of awe at his miraculous ability to survive. Today was not such a good day as that, however. Today was a day for moving on if he could; for following her blindly and saying what he needed to say if it would give him a place to rest for the night.

She spoke of so many places he knew nothing of. She spoke of a warrior's life in the foothills, of calm sanctuary in the World's Edge. And for a moment, he considered that life. He imagined it as blissful and safe; perhaps, even, full of open fields in which to run. Perhaps that was what he wanted.

But no. Battle and survival had left him worn and weary, but stronger as well. He had the heart of a fighter now and always would. It was in the blood that soaked through his white skin, marked upon him by every scar and bruise. The path of a warrior had been assigned to him. Now, it was all he could ever be.

"I would follow you wherever you led, me, Chieftess," he said with a slight bow, a tired yet eager step forward, and a surprising amount of loyalty as he committed himself somewhat blindly in such a brief phrase to a new life. All other comments she had made to him had been met with a nod after they had hit the air. This was all there was left to say, now. There was a hint of his old spark- of the charm that had once burned bright behind his eyes. Still, with the knowledge of her name he was certain to have to give her his own.

But not now. Some other time, perhaps, if she asked and truly needed to know. Some other time when he could remember it himself- when it didn't slip away and leave him nameless in the night.

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