"Where brilliance is good and madness is better..."
Helovia Info
Helovia opened in February 2012! We are an active fantasy equine RPG
Where once the world narrowed into naught but gray dust and desolation, the gods called for life. Wielding the elements of fire and light, dark and wind, earth and water, spark and time, they have created Helovia. The realm is set within the mythical globe of Loorien, a planet rich with all variety of creatures and blessed with all manner of magic. Originally populated by nomadic, tribal characters, they've since grown into massive empires saturated with culture and history. Separated into four distinct segments of Helovia, called "The Regions," each band of horse strong enough and capable enough, took up the power and responsibility of leadership. Unicorns, old, wise and mysterious, took to the north, hidden in forests of mists and shadows and rarely making themselves known beyond their cliffs of the World's Edge. Equines, vast, organized and militaristic, split into two, one group went north to the Windtossed Foothills and the other group went south to the Dragon's Throat. Pegasus remained nomadic, making their homes in various parts of The Wilds in a migratory manner. For many generations, the land was peaceful and calm, but peace was never the way of the gods. With a clash of argument, war and bloodshed massacred Helovia, and in the aftermath, the realm was eerily quiet. Now, as newcomers sweep into this land, they are met with the lingering bitterness of the gods and the struggle to reclaim what was lost. Nothing remains safe or certain while sorcerers and soldiers alike brood and bide their time for revenge, honor and glory.
Site Wide Plots
Kaos :: The Beginning of the End ☼ - 6/2017 - Kaos placed Helovia in a time-bubble for a short period of time, but the Helovian gods are fighting back. But Kaos is powerful- far more powerful than anyone thought. This may be the beginning of the end of Helovia as we know it.
Kisamoa :: A New Kind of Kaos ☼ - 3/2017 - Kisamoa asks Helovians to help him restore the Spectral Marsh. Which side will you choose?
Invasions :: All Out War ☼ - 5/2/16 - New layout and the brand new invasion rules are up! Thank you for your patience and we look forward to getting started with this new adventure.
The Rift :: Gods Do Die ☼ - 8/2015 - Helovia Gods are saving the Rift from corrupt gods! Can Helovians band together against these foreign deities?
The Literal Ship ☼ - 2/8/15 - Oh no! You have to pair up for Valentine's day!
Sky Island :: Murder ☼ - 10/25/14 - Vesta has been found dead on the island, and the gods have called to you to solve the murder!
Sky Island :: Peace ☼ - 7/7/14 - An island has appeared in the sky! Clouds carry Helovians from the Veins to the sky.
Restoration :: We Welcome the Dawn ☼ - 9/21/13 - The sun has finally risen on this day, giving the land new light, but the Time God and the Sun God have yet to be seen.
Endless Night :: Broken Magic Plot ☼ - 8/30/13 - The earth god has returned and is walking across Helovia to heal the land. Every area can now be considered lush and prosperous, but the sun has still not risen.
☼ - 7/19/13 - The moon has risen in the sky, heralding the return of the Goddess of the moon. Lamp trees which light the paths have grown brighter, moon flowers which grow in dark places have begun to grow and prosper and the world is brighter, filled with a new hope.
Endless Night :: Dead Magic Plot ☼ - 6/22/13 - The gods of Helovia, in order to protect the world, have disappeared into the rift, leaving the world sunless, moonless and magic-less in their absence. Only the herdlands have a source of light, but lamp-trees with glowing leaves and branches sporadically line the popular roads and paths from place to place.
Doppleganger Plot ☼ - 6/20/13 - The God of Time is still struggling to close the rift though which the dopplegangers have come. He has requested that his brothers and sister assist in closing this hole, but without knowing why it opened, the task is proving difficult. Magic still remains faulty and hard to control, but the herdlands continue to be places of refuge for those who are fortunate enough to call these lands home.
ORANGEMOON cools off the lands with a a viscious force. Colder than normal, a sign of things to come during Frostfall, Helovia is bathed in a rich tropical lushness - albiet a cold one. The coastlines of the Dragon's Throat are pelted constantly by tidal waves, and the desert climate is humid but chilly. Ice begins to form early in the Aurora Basin leaving the winding trails slick and dangerous. The mists of the World's Edge coat everything in a glistening crystalline shine which encourages mould to grow everywhere. The Spectral Marsh is the only area which remains fertile, blissfully temperature and lush.
Cotm
Character of the Month for
June, 2017
WEAVER, Corporal of the Aurora Basin, is a relatively recent addition to Helovia and has taken it by storm. Branded with the seal of Death on her chest, intrigue and interest follow both her past and present. Though she is assuredly beautiful, her sometimes sharp personality reveals that there is more to this uni-peg hybrid than meets the eye. Proving herself able on the battlefield in the Basin’s warrior ranks, we can’t wait to see her test her mettle against the looming Kaos happenings! Congratulations!
Helovia RPG was created by Tamme and Blu and coded by Tamme also known as Schwartze. All coding, palettes and imagery are copyrighted to the website and are not for use outside of Helovia. Thank you to our ServerMaster for hosting Helovia. A special thanks goes to Neo for all of her coding help and fixing Tamme's errors, Boom, for her loyal service and creation of the Time God, and to Ali for her consistent contributions and dedication.
06-06-2013, 11:47 PM (This post was last modified: 06-15-2013, 11:19 PM by Psyche.)
ENDS ON FRIDAY, JUNE 14, 2013.
Taggity tag: @[Arielle], @[Calcifer], @[Chernobyl], @[Farenjer], @[Giselle], @[Larkspur], @[Leyra], @[Lyander], @[Salabel], and @[Vy]. Come come. :D
[OOC | This thread is only for current members of the Aurora Basin. You MUST post here at least once, or you will be removed from the herd. If you would like a rank change or have anything specific to discuss with Psyche, please post a short summary in an OOC addendum to your post. If you cannot respond, please PM or Skype me with the reason why. Obviously those who are absent are exempt from this. Thanks, guys!
NOTE: I did not include the full terms of the contract with the Foothills, as this thread is still in progress and I wanted to get this activity check up. I will, however, update this with the correct terms when it is complete. Just know that, unless something drastic happens in the thread, there will be a contract made. Thanks!]
The day was young as she stood on the crest of the hill overlooking the valley. Behind her was the chilled darkness of the Haruspex cave; before her lay the hot springs, and beyond that the meadow, and beyond that the forest, and beyond even that the mountains. They were distant and grey today, hidden in Frostfall by the flurries raining down from their peaks. It was a far cry from the clear blue skies of Tallsun, but somehow she found that she preferred these cold months. Perhaps she felt herself invincible to the sleet and snow because she had survived worse than their hidden Eden could throw at them; perhaps she had simply learned to love the ice. Thinking of Mauja and the Frozen Arch, she thought it likely that it was the latter.
It had been a full season since she had called her herd to the base of the hill to discuss the goings-on of the world with them, and with the events of Orangemoon safely behind them, she felt that it was time to look forward. Those among her trusted advisors surely knew of the battle with Kri - from which, by the way, she had fully healed, though she still carried a small scar on her jaw - but the on the whole, it was unlikely that her harem knew of the potential danger of the Throat. Would they choose to attack openly, should they know that there was a threat? The Plague would, but they were not enough. No, she would need the entire herd on her side for a full-fledged attack, and that was not something she was likely to earn with pretty words and empty promises.
And so it was that her voice, clear and sly, rang out against the muffling snow. "Come, my darlings! It is time that we talked." It was, perhaps, a warmer greeting than she had given in previous meetings, but there was something almost lazy about this time of year. She felt little urgency, in herself or in her followers, and she felt compelled to instill in them a desire to act. Still, it was hard to force a lift into her vocals, difficult to come up with a reason to leave their little winter wonderland. Not to mention any reason she might have would be better left unsaid, save to her secret organization.
But they came anyway, her herd, and as she waited for them to gather, she found herself glancing at each member in turn, remembering the faces of those she knew and memorizing those she didn't. Shame on you, she thought to herself. So busy you didn't bother to greet your new recruits. She hoped that Mauja had greeted them in her place, though she was unsure which of them would be better at that particular task, both being rather prickly in their own way. Fire and ice, they were, and as a team, they had found that there was little they could not do. They had not met again since their tryst in the icy caverns, save for the day of the battle between the Empress and the Resolute, and that day had been short-lived. He had gone off then to take care of his own plans, and she had scarcely seen him since. Would he appear beside her in a moment as she addressed the crowd gathered below?
She would not admit that she hoped it would be so.
"My darlings, Frostfall is upon us. If you were with us during this time last year, you know how dangerous it can be. Watch out for your brethren, for some of them may not know a real winter." She paused, a slight frown on her maw. "I wish that this were the only news I called you here to give, but I am afraid that there is more. I am sure that by now, rumors have begun to circulate about a certain challenge and a certain contract agreement, and I would like to lay them to rest. Kri of the Dragon's Throat challenged me a short time ago; I emerged victorious. However, it can be assumed that we are not on wonderful terms with the Throat, and I must warn you against consorting with the likes of them." If she meant hornless, it was unclear - it could mean that or simply the Throat. Either way, they would get her meaning.
"As for a contract with the Grey, the rumors are true - we have entered into a deal with the mercenary band. Perhaps some of you think that this is an unnecessary precaution, but I must remind you of the alliance between the Throat and the World's Edge." There was a hint of distaste as the said the name of their former home, soiled as it was now by the impurity of the lessers. "If they attack, it will not be alone, and it is my duty to protect all of you to the best of my ability. It is not, perhaps, the best solution, but I have done what I can to do my duty. If anyone has any suggestions on how to prepare ourselves in the event of an attack, step forward.
"If there are any other matters of importance, I do hope that you will bring them to the herd's attention."
06-07-2013, 06:27 PM (This post was last modified: 06-07-2013, 07:13 PM by Dingo.)
You're busy dying if you're living in the past
It was a strangely beautiful morning. While the sky was not speckled in a brilliance of colors and instead particularly overcast, fresh snow fell from the clouds above, sprinkling the Basin in a pristine blanket. It was almost glaring to the eyes whenever the sun would manage to peak through and hit it just right, but for the Weaver of the Aurora Basin, none of this mattered to him today.
He couldn't see.
Not only that, but in the course of a single night, the brindle's skin had become infested with thick, inflamed boils. They were nearly everywhere across his hide; on his back, along his ribs, his belly, on his nose... Even in the areas lacking of one of the bumps his skin was angry, red beneath the dark fur laying over it and extremely sensitive. Thankful that he was at least in his right of mind today, Crowley was able to place just why he'd suddenly awoken like this. It was from the curse placed upon him by the Goddess of the Moon. The Weaver wanted to curse her name, demand why this of all things had been done to his impeccable self, but she would surely fall right out of the sky and make him regret ever thinking such a thing.
As the day began to progress, Crowley had decided it might be best to simply stand where he had awoken and wait out this horrendous trial. The world was black to him, and although everything seemed so much louder all of a sudden, he was fearful of careening right into the mountainside surrounding him. He was a creature of power, something to be feared, not some blind, bumbling fool with atrocious acne! Thankfully, the small cave in which he always stayed during the night was ample cover from any prying eyes, and he was content to stay here until...
Oh, no.
His lady had called forth a meeting, this he could tell from the sheer volume of her voice. It held little urgency, however, which he was grateful for; it would take him some time to figure out just where she was. Though honestly, a part of the brindle was unwilling to move from his spot and catch up on what it was he had missed later on, but it was quickly decided that that was a horrible idea. He owed his Empress his presence, no matter how hideous, so that he may listen to what it was she had to announce with his own ears. A sharp exhale was given; here went nothing.
"Nonnie," came a soft nickering from the Weaver, as he coaxed his young daughter out of her restful state further back in the cave, "Did you hear that? That is our lady Psyche calling for us." He awaited the filly to get to her feet, cocking an ear back for the best judgement. "Why don't we turn this into a bit of a training exercise, huh? I want to see if you can lead me there, but make sure I don't run into anything. It's practice for making sure you're always aware of your surroundings." Of course, this was somewhat of a lie, but hopefully it would benefit Rhiannon in one way or another.
Off they went, with Talbot sticking close to his master's side, fearful of what else might come of him. A soft whine emitted from his throat, but he was quickly silenced by an annoyed, sightless glare from Crowley. Each step that the Weaver took caused him terrible pain, and despite his best abilities to try and hide it from Rhiannon or anyone else who might be looking upon him, his face wrenched with pain every now and then, or when he would step wrong and nearly tumble into the snow.
But eventually, and with tremendous effort, the trio had all made it there and Crowley halted himself in what he hoped was the back of the crowd. Despite his wounded pride and his sightless eyes, the brindle kept his head held up high and where he could only guess the Dark Empress was standing. He had heard of the scrap between her and the Resolute, and upon finding that she had won, a swelling of pride welled in his broad chest. It would only make sense that Psyche would emerge victorious when paired against a lousy excuse of animal such as Kri was. Yet the threat of an attack seemed to be looming over their heads, which wasn't too much of surprise considering the recent deeds of some of the Basin's members. While the Basin was large in numbers, they surely could not take on the forces of both the Dragon's Throat and the World's Edge.
After a silence had fallen over the group and the Empress had asked for any to step forward, Crowley drew in a deep breath and remained in his spot, but lifted his voice into the frigid air. "As for winter, I am available to make blankets for those who might need them," he said, uncertain if there would be the need, but put it out regardless. "In the case of the Dragon's Throat, however... Have we sent any prying ears near their borders to learn more? Perhaps somebody with magic to do so more safely?" The thought of a single hornless coming into their home again caused the brindle to scoff, and he shook his head. "Perhaps our General could just surround us in a barrier of death upon those who wrongly enter."
[ooc - For those curious, Crowley is cursed by the Moon Goddess. >__> Also, I give permission to Sparrow to play Talbot in her posts if she so wishes.]
Totem Time waits for no one, so do you wanna waste some time?
Strangely, it is Totem who hears the call first, the pup who normally alerts him to such things oblivious in his dreaming. For a moment, the stallion does not move, debating whether or not to heed the Lady. Will it be worth the effort? He is fairly close, of course, for he would not have heard her otherwise, but even the shortest of distances require energy to traverse, energy that he would prefer to conserve. In the end, however, he steps from their sheltered cave, lightly whisking his tail over Laise to wake him. It is not often that Psyche summons, and he has been meaning to speak with her anyway.
It takes only minutes to reach her, despite his unhurried amble and the way Laise lags behind, and somehow they are among the first comers. Not so unusual, he supposes, considering the close proximity of this hill and the cavern in which they had been resting, but still a slight surprise. He offers a slight nod to those he recognizes before finding a suitable place to wait for the rest, slightly apart, for he has no desire to be in the middle of the herd, and knows that his bonded would not be able to handle all the excitement.
Finally they all assemble, and the meeting begins. Totem only half listens, taking in the important bits and disregarding the rest. The Throat herd is angry, and Psyche has secured a contract with some group called the Grey. Good things to know, and he deems the information worth the trip. At his hooves, the pup whines, too young to understand the concepts of war and mercenaries, but knowing that they absorb the attention of his stallion, a difficult task, and therefore they must be important and terrible things.
They even prompt the stag to speak, after Crowley does, offering his knowledge on the subject of invasions. "Double patrols, station guards near the pass, and be keepin' yer eyes to the skies. Those pegasi won't be needin' tah come by 'oof, not when they can just be flyin' over the mountains."
We Talked
Together Sharpening a Knife
Like Killing Partners for a Life
Hey, We can Hide the Bodies on the Ride Home
There was something terribly wrong with her father, Rhiannon had decided. She didn't know what, or how but something was making the Weaver of the Basin act completely out of the norm... Why, just days ago, he had been frantic and fearful of nearly everything, much like a newborn foal! Jumping at shadows and muttering things of conspiracies... Nonnie, uncertain as to what it could be and unknowing of the curse that had been placed on him by the Goddess of the Moon, merely chalked it up to the fact that perhaps Crowley had eaten some bad clover.
I'll just need to remember to not eat clover, the brindled filly had told herself with a resolute nod, 'Cause I don't wanna be scared of my own shadow, too. Like all things, such as a scratch or a sore muscle, Rhiannon figured that whatever was ailing her father would simply go away if she ignored it long enough... Except, come one frigid, Frostfall morning, the ebonite daughter was proven wrong.
Awoken by the sound of her father's gruff baritone, Rhiannon uncurled herself from around Talbot the Hellhound. He produced a remarkable amount of warmth, and on terribly cold nights, the two could be found curled around one another to stave of the terrible chill that lingered in the Basin. Still, as the brindled princess lifted her head, dual-colored eyes trying to blink away the lingering heaviness of sleep, she couldn't help but do a double-take when she spotted Crowley.
"... Papa? You look... Funny." Indeed, he did. As a matter of fact, he didn't look funny at all. Instead, the Weaver looked to be in terrible pain, with gross looking lumps marring his black hide. From the tip of his nose to the they seemed to be, and as her lanky legs stretched to their full height, lifting Nonnie's ebonite bodice from the ground, she couldn't help but venture closer for a look. As she did so, hover, Crowley spoke, and dutifully she listened. A well-behaved child when it came to her father, if not overly curious, Rhiannon always did as Crowley had instructed. Giving yet another resolute nod, the filly smiled, unknowing that the cursed Weaver couldn't see.
"Okay! I'll do real good, Papa; I'll make sure you don't even run into Talbot! So, Talbot... That means no getting under Papa's hooves today." With that innocent proclamation, Rhiannon turned on her sharp hooves and lead the way from the cave. She was mindful of all of their surroundings, gaze narrowing at the less-than-spectacular form of weather... Why would Lady Pscyche hold a meeting in weather like this? Maybe she liked the wet-ness that came wih snow. Still, knowing better than to question the motives of the Dark Empress, Nonnie continued leading Crowley towards the growing group of horned creatures in the distance.
Occasionally she would comment with, "There's a puddle there, Papa," or, "Don't trip on that log!" but somehow without incident, they finally made it to the meeting. Rhiannon quieted down as they mingled with the crowd, despite wanting to ask Crowley how well she had done and if she would get a reward, and in turn focused her hearing on what Psyche was saying. Dual-colored eyes lingered upon the Lady of the Basin, staring at her with open admiration. A beacon of power, Psyche was, and as she watched, Rhiannon couldn't help but feel empowered by her presence alone.
As young as she was, Rhiannon didn't understand the talk of 'pacts' or 'battles', and so the brindled filly let her mouth stay shut. Perhaps later she could let it run wild with questions...
He was dirty and tired, bloodstained and grimy in a way that would never completely wash off—yet when the Disciple finally crossed the threshold of his homeland and beheld the everlasting fields of the Basin, it was with a gentle sigh of spirited relief with which he greeted it. Well—it was a muffled sigh of relief; nestled in his mouth was a bundle of neatly-wrapped wooly sheepskin, along with a ridged, curly ram horn still tainted with blood and small chunks of gore. Despite these uncomfortable, rather gruesome things hanging from his overstretched maw, Sin’s step was brisk and pepped; in his wide, icy eyes there sat a spark of contentment being away from such a distasteful place, the whole of the world that sat outside his docile, cultured world of the Aurora Basin.
Too much had gone on outside of these safe walls; the attack on the sheep herd and the seduction of that—that--starry-eyed witch left all sorts of grimy feelings clinging to the hide of the dappled boy; at another time in history, Sin would’ve had a mental breakdown with all the trauma of his escapades. However, the Disciple had learned how to cope with the madness of the world; his Haruspex had served to destroy his trepidation with his place and lot in life. As long as he was a Disciple, he was happy; as long as his home was the Basin, things were right, and the world was whole in its correctness. True, he wished a Pegasus mare had not ignited such feeling within him, had not threaten to touch him and had not forced his desire for her touch—but it did not matter now. Sin was no longer her plaything, and he was home in the ice-capped mountains of the everlasting blizzard.
What’s this now? A herd meeting? Sin thought, his ear cocked to catch the tones of his Dark Empress gathering his comrades, I’m just in time, then! What a perfect coincidence. It was true that he had been looking forward to a good long soak in the hot springs to soothe his exhaustion and tainted spirits, but that must wait now; being gone for so long from his homeland, it would be prudent for Sin to exercise punctuality.
As he angled his way in the direction of his Lady’s dulcet tones—affects swinging jubilantly from his maw—Sin happened upon the sight of another, and his heart leapt with recognition. Crowley! Just the fellow I wanted to see, he thought happily, speeding his pace to a spirited trot to catch up with the sir. As he got closer and his sight improved, Sin noticed the Weaver looked…quite off. He walked with an unfocused gait, and Sin noticed a peculiar little girl proffering directions to the larger stud. As the hellhound Talbot gamboled about, Sin surmised this was one of the more unusual things he’d seen concerning the veteran. Was the poor sir sickened in some way? Was he afflicted?
“Crrmphee?”, Sin tried calling, but his mouth was chock-full of wool, horn, and skin—there was no way he was going to say anything coherent through his burden. He would’ve released a whinny to get his attention, but they were nearing the Empress now and the little band that had congregated around her, answering her call. With a sad little slump of the shoulder, Sin supposed he would have to wait to get the Weaver’s attention; he tore his wide eyes away from the stallion and the tiny filly beside him, focusing them instead upon Psyche’s visage.
As he listened to her words, a feeling of restless unease meandered through his insides; he must’ve been long much too long, as he was unaware of the dangers that elicited such a response of caution from their fearless leader. She then prompted them to bring to light anything of import—and a sudden inspiration hit Sin, so that he raised his head, the skin in his mouth bobbing most violently.
“Mmph Mmpphy!” He called; briefly dipping his head, Sin released the wool and the horn and set them in a neat pile by his hoof, looking back up again with his icy stare settled on Psyche. “My lady,” he repeated, moving his lips about as he felt the wool caught between his teeth, “I must inform you of a curious sort of creature. I encountered a Pegasus with a most unusual ability; she possesses the power of attraction, and if caught unawares, it can snare the most hardened of warriors.” He paused, his face covered in white hairs and smatters of gore, quite unabashed in his eye and his voice most sincere. “Please believe me when I profess the power of her enchantment. Vigilance, however, proves to break this allure, and it was this vigilance that helped me escape her. Rest assured, I—did not reveal any secret plot of ours that could endanger our family.”
His mind started to reel, however; in honest fact, he couldn’t remember if he did, indeed, let something slip. No, every time the memory of that green-eyed Gypsy entered his mind, Sin couldn’t help a soft flutter to wrack his body, or recall the perfume of her lithe, graceful appearance. He shook the memory away—but a sickening sort of idea lingered that he wouldn’t be able to completely shake that wanton attraction.
06-08-2013, 01:02 AM (This post was last modified: 06-08-2013, 01:04 AM by Voodoo.)
Round hooves lifted high into the air, my knee reaching up toward my chest with each step. The snow seemed to become deeper and deeper, suddenly shallowing out and causing me to stumble every once in a while. Dark red eyes roamed the white dusted home land with ease, searching for nothing in particular. The calm air suddenly carried along the strong voice of our Lady, Psyche. I had over heard her voice only a few times before, talking to others in the herd while I just simply walked by. In all the time that I had been here, I had seen less of her than I had expected.
She called to the herd, calling us her "dearies." Ears pressed forward, my face twisting toward the source of her voice. Log legs picked easily through the now shallow snow, carrying me toward the meeting. A few members had already shown up; a sickly looking stallion and his matching foal standing beside him. A bay stallion with a twisted horn stood not much further beyond the pair. Then, of course, Pysche laying out a hard to ignore message. I continued in on the group, stopping a little behind the bay stallion with a black splash over his withers.
Psyche presented two subjects; clarifying the truth behind each. I listened intently, not knowing whether or not to speak; I stayed silent. Blah blah blah, this is boring. Let's go find something to do They must have been trying to distract me.. it was working. Pysche's words, as important as they were, were muffled by the idiots in my brain.
Crowley spoke, his words still half understood by the blabbering fools. I caught a few random sentences, making it even more irritating that I couldn't fully grasp the conversation. The male beside me brought my attention back to the real group, his thick accent bewildering my young mind. Yet again, I was taken by surprise when yet another voice appeared, belonging to a black male with a single twisted horn. He dropped something strange on the white ground, presenting yet another possible problem.
I sucked in a shallow breath, letting it expel slowly from flared nostrils. My eyes traveled from the faces of each stranger to the pile of fur and bone on the earth. He spoke in turn, telling us all that another Pegasus was the problem. And not only was that small fact a problem, but she also had the ability to... seduce someone? That's what my mind made of it anyway. I picked up my head to the proud position it usually stayed at, ears rotating easily. I had nothing to say, only because I knew nothing about what was going on. The only thing that fluttered through my head was the Pegasus mare that I had met in the Heart; Africa. Active little thing that she was, she cantered through my imagination, the jewel we had found stuck in her mouth.
walking "talking" the voices
EVERYTHING YOU'RE RUNNING AWAY FROM
IS IN YOUR HEAD Please tag him in every post!
06-08-2013, 08:48 AM (This post was last modified: 06-08-2013, 08:55 AM by Illynx.)
tell me that you want to dance, want to feel your pulse on mine just treat me like a stolen glance of yourself.
Illynx returned home with a new recruit in tow, a soft smile upon her face both from a devious joy in herself for having succeeded at her first task as corporal of the Basin and from the general company of Ruka, who she found charming despite her best interests to remain indifferent towards him. She cleared the last steeped part of the path to find an intriguing site ahead, and not just that winter seemed to have landed here in the mountains, further widening her smile at what luck she had - a herd meeting, the sleek black Psyche standing at the mouth of the Haruspex cave and a small gathering of the various horned members of the Basin before her, others trailing in from various places in their clearing to listen to what she had to say. She spotted a few who's faces she knew, and many who she didn't, but it didn't really matter all that much; she knew that her place among them was well earned, and the names of those worth remembering would stick to her brain in time.
She paused, turning back to Ruka to assure that he could ascertain what her next move was and also to assure that he had made it past the final, tricky bit of the path. After assuring he was following, the golden trimmed minx trotted gracefully across the stretch of ground that spread between herself and the gathering herd, deciding the Ruka's tour could wait until after business was settled. When she arrived, her pace slowed to a halt in the left section of the group, dancing tendrils of her ebonite tail coming to a slow, enticing halt around her hooves, golden eyes focusing in upon Psyche.
The deep brown and gold minx listened intently to the words of her herdmates and leader, her hooves planted firmly beneath her and brain slowly working over everything they said. She wasn't concerned for the cold, and had already heard of Psyche's victory, but felt a smirk pull across her face as she heard the name of the perpetrator and the eventual punishment that both she and her followers would be receiving, even though it had not been alluded to; she knew her dearest well enough to know there were already plots in store. Perhaps the Plague was not yet strong enough to attempt to attack a full sized herd on their own, but eventually they would be - and Illynx knew that the splinter left embedded tended to fester. Gods help them all within the Throat should that be the case; the femme was well aware of the wrath that she and her counterparts were capable of expressing.
The mention of a possible alliance between the Grey and themselves set her teeth on edge, mostly because she wasn't sure that the mercenaries upheld the best standards for their members. However, Psyche's reasoning was sound, and Illynx found herself inclined to follow her friend's word despite that it meant dealing with mutated freaks. She thought now if there were ways to help prepare the members of the Basin against an onslaught beyond her intent of training with the others as often as she could, and drew a blank for the moment; she had no skills or tools beyond her horn and hooves, and while she could talk her way out of just about any situation, this one was beyond words already.
Her head turned to listen to the words of Crowley, but Illynx found him still partially out of her view and had to rotate her whole frame in order to see his face clearly. She snuck a sly glance at Ruka as she did so, smiling with a cheerful friendliness that covered, she hoped, her peaked curiosity as to what sort of man he was, and whether or not he would become a fitting part of their family or just another body shield for the Plague like most of them who would arrive to hear the words of their leaders. After her eyes found striped Crowley, what seemed to be his hellhound, and a filly (what a ludicrous combination, she thought to herself), she found the his words to be of perfect sense, though he himself seemed to be a bit odd; a small chuckle escaped her at his jest about Deimos, a girly and light sound, cut short by a uniquely drawling stallion accompanied by yet another hellhound on the other side of the outskirts. She rotated herself again to listen. She nodded agreement to his mentioning the skyway into the Basin. Just as Totem finished speaking, however, an oddly muffled noise broke out behind him. She turned to discover a rather unique silver dappled unicorn depositing what appeared to be sheep skin upon the grass; she felt her stomach turn at the thought of having it in her own mouth and also a stroke of recognition. This must be the young disciple Psyche had said showed promise. What he said, however, made a scowl replace the relatively neutral expression upon her face, her ears laying back flat against her head. She hoped, for his sake, that he hadn't told anything to the witch while she had him enchanted; the images brought to mind of what Psyche, Mauja, Deimos, and the rest of the Plague may do to him other wise made her anxious, for his sake.
"I offer myself to any member who wishes to train," she bolstered her voice so that everyone could hear her clearly, golden eyes moving from face to face as she spoke, "also, if it is true that this witch exists, we should consider that all scouts be resolutely female, not just skilled in stealth and magic, to avoid any mishaps among ourselves." She paused for a moment, then continued. "I am also interested in gathering a group of us together to attempt the capture or murder of one of these...mimics, for better study of them, along the same reasoning as sending scouts to watch the pegasi." Illynx knew that you had to be aware of your enemy, all their faults and strengths, and from what Psyche had told her, they knew next to nothing of the malevolent doppelgangers, and it made her uneasy.
Magic/assault allowed to be used on Illynx at any time, in so far as it does not kill or seriously maim her without my permission.
Zima was walking through a thick blanket of white powdery white snow, when she heard the call; not to far away at all. She pricked her ears, listening for any other sounds. A small wind picked up, blowing against her and chilling her to the bone. She shivered. Zima studied the frigid terrain intently with blue orbs. When she blinked bits if ice fell off of her eyelashes. As she started out across the land, she realized how lucky she was to have this beautiful place that place that she could now call her home.
Not to long ago she had been an outcast, traveling alone. She had left her birth herd in search of a new beginning, a new life. She had gotten so lonely though. Traveling alone with not a soul to talk to. With thoughts swirling in her mind and no one t tell them to . And then she had met the mare called Huyana who had invited her to live here. A smile traced across her lips.
Zima shivered slightly; either from excitement about attending her first herd meeting, or from the bitter cold snow that was practically up to her knees. This was her first herd meeting. She concentrated where the source of the voice had come from, and headed in that general direction. As she arrived at the meeting spot, she noticed that a few herd members were already there. One of the members, she noticed was very sick looking, and she had pity for him. And the lady Psyche, herself started speaking.
Zima listened to her talk intently, her ears pricked. Because she was so new here, she didn't really know what was going on. But she listened, interested none the less. She was part of this herd, and wanted to know everything that was going on. Some of the herd members spoke up, voicing their opinions. Zima herself didn't say anything. She just wanted to listen, and absorb as much information as she could. She heard Psyche talk about an alliance with the Grey. Zima assumed that it was another herd. She also heard of others protecting the herd.
Even though she had always wanted to be a and dreamed of being healer, she felt a strange burning desire to become a warrior, and to help protect the herd. She surprised herself. She had never agreed with fighting, just for the mere cause of it. She had hated it in fact. But this was different. This was fighting to protect the herd. And that was what she felt herself wanting to do. When the mare a few feet away from her spoke of training, Zima caled out softly, "I know that I am new here, but I wish to train as a soldier to help protect this herd". She didn't just want to be dead weight, and being useless. She wanted to help this herd to the best of her abilities. She stood there and listened to every herd member voice their opinion.
06-08-2013, 10:20 AM (This post was last modified: 06-09-2013, 04:09 AM by Deimos.)
Meetings were an endless monotony he preferred to ignore, disregard and neglect. He favored the chiseled graves of the wintry corridors, the grim expanse of tainted pathways, the runes of cold catacombs and the ruthless, unrelenting, glacial sovereignty. He relished the swift incantations of his necromancy, building, brewing and beguiling, and didn’t savor the moments where he was forced to keep it locked and sequestered in his oubliette of sin and diabolical schemes. Gatherings imposed regulations upon his hide, where he had to listen from the ramparts, where he had to slither in the shadows, where he had to listen to inane drawling, where he had to remain away from the world, cold, isolated and desolate over and over again. Unfortunately, this assembly ushered the notion that he had to impart words with Psyche, for actions had been committed across their borders that she likely remained unaware of. The death of a trespasser was easy to fix, perhaps some hellhounds would find a feast of inept carcass delicious and ambrosial, but the other, a Throat prisoner, would be difficult to miss. So his motions, depraved, degenerate, cadaverous contortions of flesh, sinew and bone, undulating muscles rippling chords of demonic distinction, removed himself from the pillars of caverns and copses, and traversed amongst the Basin’s enigmatic, twisting whims. Upon arriving, his severe stare rendered upon the group, found no striking blue, no vivid rain, and thereafter noted the Empress, listened to her signal the mass of horned beings of the current tensions and hostilities and the contract struggling to form. The Weaver’s jest (did he look off, or had the General simply not laid eyes on him in a while?) only slightly humored the beast, and he gave forth a sanction of dry, chilling words rolling across the bleak sky. “That would be suitable.” He drifted closer to Psyche then, ignoring the others sauntering in, to convey recent circumstances. A hushed, nearly inaudible whisper, drawn from his mouth and meant for her ears only, unless she longed to convey it to the rest of the harem, pushed forth in his nonchalant, insouciant vapor. “Two Throat members recently trespassed. One is dead, one is prisoner.” Did she wish to use this creature to her advantage? Perhaps one could press the inept, the weak and the foolish into breaking apart some secrets, some specious decrees.
[OOC: His statement to Psyche is only meant for her ears, unless she wishes to share it with the entire herd. Thank you!]
The opulence of winter framed her spirits into the mysterious, the poised, the exotic, weaving her sentiments into the bright, frolicking days of snow and rime glittering from the sky, cold and unrelenting, but beautiful and magnificent. She stared at the sky and gleamed of its splendor, of its curling vapor that pulsed from her nares, of the clouds dragging in their cumbersome load, relinquishing more and more flakes of frozen vigilance. But Psyche’s call pierced the air, and her honeyed, amber gaze was forced towards the horizon, the distance of time, space and personas, dragging her elegant form among the carnivorous, the bewitching, the immoral and the sanctified. Given another world, other experienced, she may have been one of the licentious, brooding, calculating, designing a monstrosity that would ultimately enact some grand, diabolical scheme, but since she had grown into whimsy, into fortitude, into perseverance and might, she strayed from their ashen characters, gave her life to the beauty, to the grandeur, to the reverie of the Basin, and not the strange murkiness that dwelled in her heart. She followed, drifting in and out, listening to the demanding court of the unfamiliar, the presence of her Empress, the chosen General and the strange figures looming amongst the glacial piazza. Imogen nestled close to her side, and they became outsiders nestled on ice, adrift in the sea of comments and concerns, once taken by the ideals of politics, and now even further distanced from what they’d once been. The Nurse tucked herself close to the outstretched limbs of a fir, nestled beneath its heavy boughs, and tried desperately to not speak when Psyche relented her concerns over the Throat. What affairs bristled between them now – it had only been seasons ago when she’d embarked on saving, rescuing, beloved Aurelius and the Corporal Elizabeth, had gathered her bravery and stalwart companions for a treaty already broken. Where they to be dragged into another calamity (at this, she suppressed a shudder, for the armaments of the Edge could still be christened across her vision, still formulating a heinous atrocity that she’d been a part of)? Would they embark on more violence, more villainy, more defending of their homeland, refusing to be torn from another kingdom and empire? The more she questioned herself, the more she sank into a hushed silence, unease painted across features that usually wore delight, harmony and serenity, and so she listened, witnessed and absorbed, afraid of the answers building across the halls.
Lena</style> where there is love, there is life.</style>
06-08-2013, 01:59 PM (This post was last modified: 06-08-2013, 02:01 PM by Prometheus.)
Prometheus You're what happens when two substances collide And by all accounts you really should have died</style>
Unburdened by a live body's weight, I had settled beside you last night in the innermost reaches of one of the deeper basin caves. With winter's breath filling the cavities of my breast and dead wings blanketing the cave floor, I had watched you drift at last into a contented sleep. Now, as the light of a new morning strikes the edge of the cave entrance and hits the darkest corners of my eyes, I curl my wings to rest beneath my flesh in a burst of the sun god's flame and awaken you from your slumber. The call of the Aurora Basin lady stings my ears, and in shock my teeth clench tight against what remains of my grey tongue.
The grunt that accompanies my slow rise to all fours releases the foam of festering blood, and with each staggering step towards the cave's entrance, the sour taste slides further down what remains of my throat. When I call your name it is a soft, urging command to follow, but every word tastes of my own fluid. Though you answer and return to my side, the sensation of your spine brushing past my ribcage is the command that drags me from the cave. I would obey you before the lady of this land any day, brother.
Still, if I am to be a part of a herd, to advise its king, I must attend even the most tedious of these mortal gatherings. I approach the gathered crowd from its edge, slowly brushing past souls without hesitation and casting a careful, protective look towards you. It is an odd collection that the Basin has gathered, it seems. My body presses faintly against that of the grey killer as I walk forth, feeling nothing strange. My pale eyes search to catch his for a moment; he is an impressive specimen, but I would be lying if I said I remember his name. Without pause, I continue my step until I stand closer to the front of the crowd.
As I have carried myself forth on tattered legs, I have made note of every word of caution. So the sand-spitters have decided to pick their fight, have they? Your body curls to sit beside me, your jaws widen with a yawn, and yet I never tire in this death-cursed state of mine. "The False Sultana's temper often leads her to act without reason, my Lady, but if you truly believe they pose a threat, then I'd think we'd be better hiding from their gaze for the time being. Kri is a paranoid warrior, even the slightest aggression against her herd could incite a war we've no need to fight ourselves," I hiss into the cold air of the Basin's frostfall daylight. "If the Grey are to be our allies, so be it. But until the World's Edge withdraws their alliance with the throat, I believe it would be unwise to show hostility of any kind," I speak with an even tone but a careful whisper. It is true that I desire war above all else, but with Frostfall high and the Dragon's Throat possessing such a strong ally, I would be a fool to advise it. No, their alliance must be severed before any true war began.
06-08-2013, 10:13 PM (This post was last modified: 06-09-2013, 06:21 PM by Tiamat.)
She approaches the crowd gathered at the territory's heart silently and respectfully. She is still new to this herd, and knows her place is not an outspoken one. Her lion tail trails behind her, dragging across the ice that Frostfall has marked this land with. She recognizes few among the crowd, but is happy to see Rhiannon, Talbot, and Lena, the bay mare who had brought her here at the start. She refrains from calling out, and settles instead for a smile cast their way. Her eyes alight, her spirit soars. This is her herd, and this is her home.
The news of the war looming, then, sets her mind to reeling. A threat? But why? The Aurora Basin has done nothing but show her kindness, she can only imagine they'd be as gracious to others. But perhaps not all is as gentle and carefree as the filly hopes and believes. She can only hope no innocents will die. She grows quickly uncomfortable, and the easy smile once plastered upon her features fades quickly into a frown. Her voice fails to rise from quiet. Perhaps in this time of darkness, she might still have something to offer, even if it her kindness alone, but she will not speak of it now. She is hushed by timidity and fear, fear of the barbarism with which the Basin lady and speak.
Surely all in defense, she tells herself as she rationalizes the talk of war. But she knows nothing of the Dragon's Throat or even The Grey. She has nothing but a blind faith and trust in her herdmates. But she must maintain it, she tells herself. She knows little, but she knows she would be a fool to let doubt be her queen today.
And so she stands in silence to watch those around her yet out of earshot speak of death and dying to come. This is her herd, this is her home.
d'Artagnan huffed at the call for a herd meeting. The Doctor never really liked them, though he understood the importance of them, it meant being sociable and the shade didn't like being very sociable. Rising from his cave, with hell dog in tow, the devilish pair made their way across the Basin territory to the spot where Psyche was holding her darling meeting. Snow fell from the full sky and it noticeably improved the red bay's mood as he walked, the cold was glorious in his mismatched eyes and the more it fell the happier he became as he trudged through drifts. Coat heavy with thick blood fur. Looking upon the meeting many had already gathered and d'Artagnan picked his way through the crowd, noting the strange look of Crowley's face and noting his friend didn't appear to be quite well. He smiled once at the weaver before giving him a look that spoke volumes of scepticism to his appearance, noting it mentally, the Nightshade may have to find him later as his condition looked both worrying and intriguing. Eyes drifted curiously over the filly that accompanied him, but he said nothing.
The Nightshade carried onward, nodding his head to the rather strange Sin and saluting Deimos whilst eying the revolting looking stallion beside him, eyes wide in both revulsion and wonder. It seemed the meeting was full of surprises this time around. All the while listening to the words of Psyche and what followed them as he took his place to the right of the gathering, noting his colts were not present. "Aramis, go see if you can find Roux and Sacre" he said quietly to the pup beside him, who obliged with a yip and ran off to find the twins, nose dutifully to the floor. Though d'Artagnan hated meetings himself, it was important that his son's attend, it was in meetings like this that they might learn new things. Find paths they want to follow. Meet loyal friends or make lifetime enemies. Like Aviya had chosen the route of the warrior, both colts were too young for such a choice, but it may help them in the future.
Once there was a gap in the talk, d'Artagnan raised his own gruff voice to speak to Psyche. "I do not like the number of trespassers of recent Lady, the southern lands are getting too bold for my liking though the ones I have seen here have not had much pluck. Still, standing around picking daisies is not really my thing" he voiced a little of his discontent. It seemed their relationship with the outside world was becoming strained, but then again, was it ever peaceful? The Nightshade never thought so and though his ego wouldn't allow him to agree with the zombie stud's observation that the Edge and the Throat were too strong, he was not quite sure if the Basin was ready for a war just yet. Would all of the unicorns in the frosty land follow them into battle? It was the Plague who wanted the other races dead, but not all in the Basin shared that belief. It was this stone in his hoof that d'Artagnan hated, were all the unicorns here loyal to both Psyche and Mauja enough to go to war for them. Another thing that bothered the Nightshade was Mauja himself, was the Ice King even ready for a war? There was a place within his best friend that even the Nightshade struggled to understand, d'Artagnan had not seen the 'old' Mauja since the days before the Qian invaded.
He sighed and looked out to the rest of the crowd, noting a few faces he didn't recognize and heightened his voice again for the last time. "Winters are harsh in the north and for those who don't know me I am your Time Mender, your healer. You can find me in the caves if you have any ailments or seek out my accomplices, like Lena or Tiamat." He nodded to the pair who he'd noticed in the meeting before falling silent. Tiamat was still in training, but the blue mare would learn quicker if she experienced healing first hand. Plus, it lifted a little weight of the Doctor's shoulders who much rather reach for a poison than an antidote. d'Artagnan didn't like the art of healing, but it was within his capability and it was the rank given to him when he first came to Helovia, so he served out of loyalty than any real interest.
It's nothing that complicated, I just want to kill you
Myrah Ooc://Um I'd love to train under Illynx, perhaps sometime in the near future. Im a little late so I don't know how to approach that subject... also sorry for the shoddy post.//
'Finally...' her thoughts whispered in relief as worn cloven hooves touched down upon the border of the Basin. It had been at least a week since she had last seen the lands, having found herself lost in Helovia when she had accidentally wandered outside of the borders.
Slowly she had found her way back, yet the travels (on top of her first initial one that brought her here in the first place) had thoroughly worn her out. The cave that she had picked out for herself called to her, bringing excitement but also the 'So-close-yet-so-far-away' feeling.
Pushing aside the sharp ache her muscles resonated with, and the fatigue from traversing long distances, the grullo mare pushed onward. As she walked, the sky seemed to open up, welcoming her home with a flurry of snow rather than the thunderous storm her first time around. At least this time she wasn't running for shelter, or tripping in the snow despite its depth.
Rounding the bend to the entrance of the Basin, Myrah was startled to find a small herd gathering beneath the shadowed figure standing above them. Never in the time she had been here had she seen so many unicorns, and the sad fact was that she only recognized two out of the whole herd. The General, and the Stallion who brought her here.
Picking up speed, she traversed the distance in time to catch d'Artagnan speak of the number of trespassers, and then announce himself. Auds swiveled, picking up the sound and cataloging the information for later as she slipped through the herd to stand next to Voodoo...
"What is going on?" her voice whispered out past her lips. The inexperience of herd life ran clean and strong within Myrah, the fact was that the only thing she had that closely resembled a herd was her two outcast parents. Yet hard times had forced her out of being an outcast and into seeking out a herd. Understanding that this was a herd meeting, or even who each member was or their ranking... even what a ranking meant, was far beyond her knowledge. She hated it.
A chill hung in the air these days, lingering even after the sun reached its zenith – when the sun bothered to shine, at least. Frostfall had come in a flurry of snow and rested in the grim grey depths of the clouds overhead; Valka’s breath mimicked the sky by hanging in clouds around her whiskers. She had endured such cold before, of course; though heat bled from her skin like water from a sieve, she relished the knife-twist of frigid air in her lungs. It was painful. It was rejuvenating.
Still, it reminded her ever-so-unpleasantly of home.
With morning only just edging away, the rabicano mare wandered without a particular destination. She supposed the hot springs might be a nice change from the cold, though every instinct in her body still mistrusted the bizarrely heated water. With her stride slow and morose, she headed that direction, her walk a flowing movement that ate distance easily across the ground. No doubt she would reach the springs by midday or later; she was on the far end of the Basin, and in no hurry… except that, without warning, a strange voice lifted on the quiet air.
Valka’s ears strained to catch it; faint and blurred by distance, the words mumbled together but the sound was enough to draw attention – certainly important? Without thinking of it, Valka hastened to a swift trot and moved in the direction of the sound.
She found others gathered near her previous destination, all clustered around the tall, proud black mare at their front. Psyche -- must be. She had all the presence of a leader. Quickly, Valka scanned the gathering crowd for Snö, but found no sign of the pale daughter. In fact, she found no sign of anyone familiar; many faces met her searching gaze, but none registered against her memory. So many here, she thought as she moved to join them. So many I do not know. Where had they been? What had they been doing? And why were they called?
Valka arrived too late to hear most of the conversation, but her ears pricked to the voice of a bay stallion who called himself Time Mender and offered unnecessary advice. Nonetheless Valka nodded – mostly to herself – and stood at the edge of the crowd, muscles tense, as a grey mare asked the question lingering in the back of her mind – what was going on?
06-09-2013, 09:02 PM (This post was last modified: 06-10-2013, 04:55 AM by Arah.)
Arah
It’s that though we learn from our mistakes we’re condemned,
To make those same mistakes
again and again.
It was beautiful in The Basin. Arah was curled up in a tight ball of warmth watching a lone snowflake sink to the ground. She closed her eyes, finally able to relax. She had been running and running for days on end. Now she was exhausted. She had met Lakota, but wasn't quite sure what exactly had happened there. The dark shadow had filled her with hope though and already the ivory fae found herself missing the dark dame. Still that was not enough to upset her good mood. If the fates allowed it, she and Lakota would meet again. Their souls would find each other again, just as fate had made them be together on that faithful day. She did not care about Lakota being an equine, or indeed being apart of The Grey, she was just happy to have found someone who understood her. All sides revealed.
A voice called out to the herd, a voice Arah knew so well. Their Lady was calling them forward to a meeting. The impersonator sighed and remained curled up in her warm ball. She had finally found the time to rest and now it had been ripped away from her. She knew that by laying there she was going to miss out on crucial information. Duty also bound her to attend the meeting, so Arah lifted herself from the ground and stretched. Then shaking out her spotless pelt she dawdled in the general direction that Psyche's voice had come from. It took her a while to find where they had all gathered and as she arrived there where many already standing and sharing information.
She walked into the meeting and noted familiar faces everywhere. Arah kept to herself however, she didn't like being centre of attention. Across from where she had ended up, Arah spotted the little Rhiannon. Taking a second to give the young filly a playful wink, then her eyes looked to Rhiannon's father. The Basin's weaver looked worse for wear, her gaze only hovered for a second, she wondered what had happened. Knowing full well that it was none of her business, Arah turned her attention back to the meeting. So much had changed since her last herd meeting. It was at that meeting that she volunteered as a Phantom and was the shy new mare of the herd. Now she felt like a warrior, she had gained another rank within the herd, met many new friends and formed close bonds with a few others.
The time mender spoke and Arah politely turned her full attention to the stag she greatly respected. She completely agreed with every word he spoke. "They romp into our lands laughing, thinking it's some joke." She heard the anger and scarcasm in her own tones. She took a few steps forward, to make sure she was in sight of everyone who wanted to know who was speaking. "They are getting far too bold, each intruder underestimates the members of our herd." She was tired of those that visited The Basin, not even thinking that there would be consequences for their actions. "I for one am sick to death of it, the two Dragon Throat intruders acted like it was all a big game." Golden orbs rested on Deimos for a moment. "But I don't think the game ended how they expected." She gave a slight chuckle thinking about the two idiotic mares that had come from the Throat. As Deimos had said, one was dead and the other was prisoner. Eyes where back on the meeting in general. "Perhaps word of what happened will spread and they will once again respect our boarders."
The impersonator fell silent, she was fiercely protective of her home. When other disrespected that she would do everything in her power to teach them about what happened to those who trespassed in The Basin. "In response to the threat our home is currently under, I agree with the other suggestions, perhaps we need more patrols on the boarders." More members to train as warriors, she kept the thought to herself, not wanting to pressure anyone. "More stealth missions as well, I place myself at your and Faelene's disposal, my Lady." She felt that she had nothing else to add. Stepping back to blend in with the herd, Arah was ready to leave. She had given her input, made sure Psyche knew that her services where still on offer and even offered suggestions however Arah would remain until the meeting no longer needed her. No matter how long that took.
And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.
✽ Force and magic permitted. ✽
✽ No fatal or permanent damage. ✽
✽ Please only tag in opening posts. ✽
never take advice from someone who just admitted to being devious and just confessed to treason
Winter had finally arrived, and it was not something that Roland welcomed with open arms. By now, he was almost used to the snow and harrying wind, but Frostfall brought with it a whole new meaning of cold. Luckily the morning that Psyche beckoned them for a meeting was not an overly dismal one, but the Impersonator still found himself longing for the warmth of the hot springs, a guilty pleasure he felt ashamed to even think of. Heavy snowflakes gathered in his copper mane as he gravitated towards his leader’s call along with the rest of his herd, soon finding himself amongst the faces of strangers as he made his way stiffly over the frozen ground towards the Dark Empress.
What she had to share with them was news both old and new to his ears, though he listened with no lack of interest when she spoke of their contract with the Grey, feeling a swell of pride in his chest that he had been involved. It felt good to be put to use, to bear a purpose rather than wandering aimlessly, even if he hadn’t exactly enjoyed the long trek to the Foothills and back. He only hoped their rivalry with the Throat would not amount to War, as it was an environment he did not look forwards to returning to so soon; and when the time came to make that judgement call, would he want to risk his own life amidst shot and shell for the herd he had been a part of for so short a time? Roland considered himself loyal to the Basin, despite his notoriously unstable devotions, but he knew it would be so easy to fall into his old habits, slinking back to the shadows from whence he came to scope out another place to call home, not bold enough to bare his throat to the enemy.
Once Psyche had finished speaking, others among their gathering piped up and Roland listened with distracted intent. He was struck with the realization that he knew so few of the Basin’s inhabitants, and that there were many he had yet to meet. Still, it was comforting to see the odd familiar face around him, though some brought more unease than others. The very sight of Deimos sent a chill down his spine, ashen hide and cobalt eyes hinting at his affinity with death, though Roland hadn’t the faintest inkling of what the General was capable of. His eyes skimmed over Prometheus, grimacing at the freak display of flesh and bone bared to the cold, leaving bloodied gaps in his white fur. The Aurora Basin had many faces, and now he was grateful for the chance to see them all.
Arah’s familiar voice drew his gaze towards the white mare, ears perked as she added her comments to the conversation. Questions reared their heads in the silence of his mind at her mention of the intruders, but he knew they would remain unanswered. Knowing that they were from the Dragon’s Throat bred dark suspicion in his chest; from what he had seen Zar’roc and Elizabeth do to one of their own kind, he did not want to entertain the thoughts of what the Basin’s lackeys might do to intruders, and wondered if Arah had done anything to bloody her antlers in the service of the Basin. While he had done little work for his herd yet, and hadn’t even met Faelene, the head of his division, he felt compelled to offer his services as well, though Psyche surely would make use of him if his skills were required. “I also will lend aid where it is required, even if the task does not pertain to intelligence.”
06-10-2013, 01:34 PM (This post was last modified: 06-10-2013, 02:50 PM by Crash Course.)
Useless, that's how I felt with my return to the Basin. I had done nothing at all for my family. The meeting had already started, and I found myself wandering toward it too nonchalantly. Thick forelock curled around the silver and black horn that projected from my forehead, still hanging lazily in the vision of my left eye. Heavy hooves carried me into the meeting, arriving in time fish out enough information from the bay stallion with ghostly horns.
Trespassers? I had heard of one incident, leaving a fellow unicorn rumored dead and her Pegasus acquaintance broken and trapped in our land. Realistically, I had no idea if either were true. Finally I stopped near the edge of the herd, ashamed to show my face. I did not know very many of my own herd mates, but I'm sure they all know of me being taken to the Throat, held in the dry desert for some time.
I stood in silence, listening to each herd member take their turn and put in on what was going on. I had nothing to put in on this subject, only because I knew absolutely nothing. A sigh rolled from my lungs, expelling from my mouth with a cloud of warm air. My face lifted into the air, looking over the entire herd with the most blank of expressions. "Lady Psyche," I took in a short, deep breath, hoping not to fumble over my words "I wish to train with any one that will take their time, in order to help with this.. hoard of trespassers."
06-10-2013, 03:19 PM (This post was last modified: 06-10-2013, 03:22 PM by Sacre.)
The colt was busy sticking the tiny point of his horn into snow, eyes narrowed in concentration as he drew shapes in the snow with his skinny legs sank deep in the drifts. It was cold and the colt did shiver from time to time, though he had not strayed too far from his father's cave, so the warmth of shelter was not too far away. Sacre was much too busy in his doodles to worry about the cold seeping in, though if he stood their much longer he may be forced to worry. Alas! Aramis came to the rescue, tongue rolled out to one side as he bounded up to the ebony colt who possessed oceans for eyes. Rubbing himself against the colt's legs before running off in the direction of the meeting, barking with urgency, making Sacre jump in surprise and the little boy stared after the retreating hell dog with intense interest. Where was it he had to go at such speed? Excited, the raven coloured child bounced out of the drift and raced after Aramis. Putting his nose to the wind for a moment and looking around in brief concern. "Roux! Where are you?"
Falling to a halt the boy gazed around him, his nostrils flaring as his concern deepened and Aramis barked again with urgency. Reluctantly, Sacre followed the red marked pup and hoped father would know where Roux had disappeared to. The colt was slowly beginning to wonder, if his twin would always make him worry for the rest of his life? The answer to that would always be a yes, the crimson child was his brother and with the love he carried for him also came with the price of concern. Yet, he had to keep reminding himself, that though his siblings sight was not too great, Roux was a strong colt in his own right. Sacre had to learn to believe in Roux and surely; he'd know if something had happened. Right?
Chasing after Aramis, Sacre quickly picked up the scents of many and his heart began to thunder in his chest. His father had spoken of herd meetings, but the child had never been to one before. So when the pair turned up in the presence of many, it took a few minutes for merlot splattered boy to take a deep breath and pluck up the courage to walk through the gathered crowd. Quickly spotting his father to the right whilst he looked around once again for mother and Roux. None were to be seen. Did this mean Roux was with mother? Sacre held onto the small hope as he walked over to d'Artagnan, noticing a familiar striped form as he did so. "Hey Nonnie!" He shouted over to her happily, wondering if this too was her first herd meeting.
Timidly creeping past others after, Sacre eventually found his dad's red side and he looked up to the giant blood bay with a look of wonder combined with worry. "Father ... Have you seen Roux?"
Art by Strideroo
There's something wretched about this Something so precious about this
The fae heard her Lady's voice from afar. She perked her audits, her emerald eyes dragging across the snowy landscape to spot the gathering crowd. Because she had been laying on her side, the fae lifted herself up and started towards the large crowd. Her legs moved slowly at first, but she gradually quickened her pace. Her cloven hooves struck the snow, flinging the flakes in several directions.
The fae molded her thin bodice into the crowd, moving closer to her Lady. She gazed up at her, eyes watching the dark mares' every move. She was the fae's hero, her role model. The fae looked up to her decorated Lady, the equine teeth and pegasus feathers woven into her mane and tail looking beautiful against her black coat. The fae's eyes trailed the mare, her emeralds focused on the lips of her Lady as she spoke. The fae gently nodded her head, and then realized something.
She was almost a yearling.
And so, with that, she would be able to spar with her father, and learn about fighting. She glanced around, and then, with a somewhat firm tone, she spoke. "My Lady, I am almost a yearling, and so, I was wondering if I could be taught how to fight. I want to learn how to protect my herd." She swallowed hard, hoping her Lady would answer to this. She wanted to protect her herd, instead of wandering around like a lost soul. She kept her eyes on her Lady for another moment before glancing at the others.
There was a small filly with brindled markings, she was nestled beside Crowley. The funny thing was, Crowley was acting a little strange, and he had been for the past few days. Whenever the fae passed him he would be... well, different. She pushed the though from her head, and left Crowley and his brindled baby to be. She caught sight of a bay stallion and his hellhound, she gave a little awe as she saw the pup, but pulled her eyes away.
Then, the blue roan mare the fae called mother drifted to her thoughts. Glancing about, she realized her mother was no where to be seen. Shrugging it off, the fae assumed she was just wandering about the Basin, or possibly heading to the meeting at that very moment. She turned her head, her emerald eyes glimmering. The fae perked her audits, trying to listen for her mother's footfalls, or her voice. But she heard nothing. Swishing her tail gently, she pulled her attention back to her Lady, who stood silently before them.
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HP: 45
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