|
|
Post by Jennycallie on Aug 5, 2016 21:03:12 GMT -6
Hello Starborn, and welcome to Plot 201: Ablation!
Team Leader: Vidar Participants: Hetta, Astrid, Goss, Greer, Southpaw, Ritan, Judiah Post Frequency: Frequent (3-4 times a week) Please keep the following in mind! - Posts must be a minimum of 175 words. There is no maximum!
- No strict order is enforced, but there must be at least two posts between your own character's posts.
- AP/CS/FVR Rewards are based on the post frequency you signed up for. Check the chapter journal for earnings!
- If the post frequency you signed up for is faster than the plot is designated, you can either revert to the lower amount, or commit to posting more than the others.
- If the post frequency you signed up for is slower than the plot is designated, you can bump up to the faster speed if you choose, but you're still only required to do the speed you signed up with.
- Your team is precious. Try to interact with everyone. <3
- Have fun! Even if your pony isn't. 8'D |
|
|
|
Post by Jennycallie on Aug 5, 2016 22:13:39 GMT -6
"Keep close," Vidar told Astrid for the fifth time in as many minutes, and did not need to look at her to know she didn't heed him. He clopped after her inside the general store, his eyes darting continuously to the inattentive shopkeep. Astrid, awestruck by the newness of this place, moved quietly through the building while Vidar trailed behind and tried not to appear as alert as he was. His back stiffened every time the rafters groaned in the wind.
The absence of Onea's warlord had presented their clan with a unique opportunity to venture back into the motherland after decades of separation. The Bloody Flanks' banishment to the frigid north had been complete; trade was nonexistent, all their goods recycled or stolen. News came only from spies and captured messenger birds, or else arrived in the hulls of Raider ships like Vidar's own. Trade routes all over the continent had been abuzz about Hira's voyage south, and word of it had been celebrated like a holiday by the Bloody Flanks.
An Onea without shields presented a unique opportunity (to scout, to see what had become of their home, to procure life-saving supplies for their withering clan) but was still not without danger. Hira hadn't brought every War-Forged patriot with her when she traveled to Valore, and many remained who would have loved to make an example of a young Bloody Flank girl this far out of bounds. Vidar knew he shouldn't have let Astrid come along; in the same breath, however, he acknowledged that saying no to her was always useless.
Vidar watched carefully as Astrid paid for the seeds and medicine they'd come for, scanning the shopkeep for any glimmer of recognition. To Vidar's relief, he seemed to think nothing of Astrid's ruby red eyes and nearly foreign demeanor. With their purchase slung over his back (his saddlebags heavier and his already-light purse disturbingly lighter) he stepped outside onto the muddy road to find eyes on him.
Moving his hindquarters a step to the side, he blocked the door to the shop with Astrid still inside, and waited tensely for the strangers to speak.
-------------------------
WW: 357
|
|
|
|
Post by fediarwoods on Aug 6, 2016 6:37:33 GMT -6
Southpaw | War-Forged | Stationary Merchant
Ever since Warlord Hira had left Onea with more than half of her Shields as her protectors the atmosphere in Skeldr Town had changed. Every clearly thinking horse could make up the count: most of Onea's great protectors had left town and those that remained had more tasks at hand than they could handle. Scouting the structures, keeping the surrounding forests clean and keeping Vagabonds out; it had all been pushed to the side and he could just feel eyes gazing from the shadows. It could have been predicted that those who patiently waited on their change for a clear path, were now ready to take it on. No-one was watching, nor was anyone there to keep them from doing so. But he wasn't one to worry before worrying should be done, so he just kept up to his usual tasks, and did what he was supposed to be.
One of the structures just out of Skeldr Town needed repairs for it would inevitably break, but he hadn't got the supplies on hand. Thus he had traveled back to town to get some from the local supply store. He didn't mind the walk, nor the slight tumult around town. He just melted in his surroundings, like he always did. He wasn't one to stand out in the crowd.
He could feel it from the tension in his bones, as if there was flowing electricity through his bone marrow. It was only seconds later down his path that he noticed motion near the general store and as the door opened the painted stallion that came out caught his eye. He recognized him, all though not by name. And if he remembered right, he shouldn't be here. Not even when the Raiders were out of town. They were publicly banned years ago and after not seeing a single sign of them he'd thought their bloody clan had been wiped out; but yet here they were again.
He wasn't alone here - he couldn't be alone here. The way he blocked the door with his hindquarters, the way he cared for whatever he had brought with him. He wouldn't care for his own life; there was something far more important for him there, and he was trying to hide it.
''If I remember right, you shouldn't be here.'' His voice heavy, raw like it was always, an a slight threat in the tone of it.
[Post 1 | Word Count: 405]
|
|
|
|
Post by firebirdfalling on Aug 6, 2016 7:13:12 GMT -6
The blue roan clomped along, blessedly ignored by the majority of the populous. Most of the equine that believed in the "Strong for Onea" rubbish had left with Hira on her journey into the south. Didn't matter to him one bit, just gave him some peace away from those whiny Shields. They always thought they were tough until they had to come to him with an infection because they were too prideful to admit that they had injured themselves.
Ritan sighed, relishing the fact that he actually had some free time to stock up on supplies while he could. The store was nearby, only maybe a few blocks from his clinic when he heard the ruckus ahead. Two horses were standing in front of the general store's door, one blocking the way, the other taking on a vaguely threatening pose.
''If I remember right, you shouldn't be here.'' the horse outside the store said, most likely directed at the one blocking the door. Ritan sighed again, this time in annoyance as he realized that he'd have to get past this squabbling pair to get what he needed. Well, there's always room for improvement in the people department, he thought, pinning his ears back and stomping over the the pair.
[Post 1 // WC 212]
|
|
|
|
Post by Queerly on Aug 6, 2016 9:36:45 GMT -6
"Keep close," Vidar would say, and each time Astrid would reply "I am," before inevitably doing the opposite. The reassurance was beginning to rust.
It wasn't as though she meant to frustrate him with a fickle wandering hoof, and under different circumstances she surely would have been more alert. But Astrid had never left the clan’s barren homestead, and though Vidar’s stories could paint a pretty picture of faraway places and glimmering treasures, seeing newness with her own eyes was an opportunity she felt she’d waited a lifetime for. To know there was a world beyond their pestilent, frozen territory was one thing; to experience it was another.
And so she browsed a little longer than she should have, paying mind to the displayed baubles and knickknacks. They were not the delicate, pretty trinkets that Vidar carried to her on his blackened ship, but they had their rustic charm and a shine that caught her eye. A small idol of Kaia called to her; she looked at her sibling imploringly, and slipped the prize into her satchel. The shelf upon which she kept her treasures was growing crowded, but there was room yet to be utilized.
It was only when they approached the shopkeep that Astrid grew nervous. The mare kept her eyes low as she displayed their selection across the counter, her teeth clenched behind the thin line of her lips. Shards were exchanged, pleasantries made, and as they made for the exit the mare felt nearly giddy with their clean escape.
But then Vidar stopped, and Astrid stumbled directly into him, relaying indignation in a low squawk. It was the only sound she made before freezing, a few dark strands of his tail clinging to her horn. She heard the voice, and more importantly the threat contained therein. She darted her tongue across her lips and swallowed, glancing at the store owner, who for his part seemed only politely bewildered. Her attention swiveled back to the doorway. Peering through Vidar’s legs, she could just make out dark, thick legs. One horse. No- another was joining, though they hadn’t spoken yet.
She reasoned that those were good odds.
|
|
|
|
Post by catac0rny on Aug 6, 2016 11:01:53 GMT -6
Greer | War-forged | Stationary Merchant
The air inside the shop was still, and almost uncomfortably silent as Greer sweeped the floor and dusted her shelves. Hira had left with most of her shields, to Aodh. The town was more quiet then usual since she had left for a meeting with Oneas greatest trade partner. Greer knew this first hand because her mother had been traded to them as a slave. She remembered the screams her mother had bellowed that day, terrified of the outside world only to be sent where her fate would be unknown.
Still sweeping, she heard a some commotion from outside and leaned her broom on a table, and walked to the front door. She peered out the window to see what was happening but she couldn't see very well from where she was. ''If I remember right, you shouldn't be here.'' She heard a voice say. She opened the shop door and the bell rang into the following silence. She glanced from the source of the words, a familiar horse, she believed his name was southpaw.
She looked to the pair of horses who he was talking to and she couldn't remember ever having seen them there before. The stallion was about her size, with a copper coat and large white markings. She was intrigued by his tattoo but didn't look for too long before glancing at his partner. The mare was shorter then both of them, but had similar features and she could only figure the two had to be related in some way.
[Post 1 | Word Count: 257]
|
|
|
|
Post by PaganStars on Aug 7, 2016 0:26:05 GMT -6
Winter had been...unpleasant for Judiah, to say the least. Being almost completely buried in an avalanche did that to you. After the incident he had spent most of his time in Skeldr town, visiting his family farm every once and a while and just generally waiting for winter to be over. He had to say though, being so close to the mountain had made him nervous at times, especially with how loud some of the...enthusatic drinkers could get. Besides that, Skeldr was enjoyable. He was able to sell off his wares, manage to set up a few trade routes and even made some new friends. Among other things, he had been able to visit his mother official burial sight, dead rose bushes resting peacefully in the snow. His mother had been a special woman in his life, the figure that gave him strength and fought away his nightmares. He stilled cried as he looked at her grave, head bowed in a prayer to both Kaia and Alya. He prayed that she was safe under their gaze, hidden among the stars where she could see her family and all that Judiah had grown up to be. He hoped that she was proud of him.
But now as he stood in front of her grave, a smile on his face as he watched the budding rose bushes gentle sway in the wind. He was happy to see life return to Onea once more, excited for the fresh crops and flowers that would soon be making their way into town. With a final bow of his head, Judiah turned and headed back into town, humming softly as he did. It was crazy to see it so empty, the streets not filled with bustling farmers and traders. He actually had room to let his tail hang loose, plus he didn't have to worry about hitting anyone with his backpack! Judiah couldn't lie and say he didn't enjoy the extra space (especially for a big guy like himself) but the town fetl...eerie as well. Like something was wrong. With a shrug, Judiah shook his head and laughed softly to himself, soon emerging from an alley way. He looked up and down the familiar street, seeing a few faces that he recognized... and a few that he didn't. He was lined up almost perfectly with the strange unicorn, Judiah staring at him from a few buildings over, only the front half of his body showing. It seemed like quite a few other people were watching as well, causing Judiah to furrow his brows. Why oh why did Hira have to take every single fricken shield with her. Sure, he was a big guy, but fighting?!
With a gulp, Judiah stepped out of the safety of the alley, head lowered in suspicion.
Post 1 | Word count 473
|
|
|
|
Post by tarriedsea on Aug 7, 2016 15:52:44 GMT -6
The perk of moving to the warm farmlands during the colder seasons was closer proximity to Skeldr Town. It was thrilling, in Gosslyn's little world, to see how the rest of the War-Forged herd lived.
And it was almost time for her family to move their herd of caribou back to the coast, so on this day she relished taking a retreat into the hub of Onea.
She shook her head, jingling her earrings and tossing her mane. The air was light, and crisp, and the sun was bright. It was a good day. And besides, it may be the last time she saw the town for another year.
But Hira's current absence, as well as the departure of Skeldr Town's main defensive force, made Gosslyn feel like an exposed shrew. She picked her way carefully among the passing of merchants and customers. Her ears flattened against her head, and she kept her neck low. There weren't many enemies here that she had reason to be wary, but it was always a good idea to remain under the radar, right?
Suddenly, a conversation crashed into her ears, and a chill shuddered over her skin.
''If I remember right, you shouldn't be here."
The voice at hand was speaking so strongly and matter-of-factly, the air seemed to stop. Onlookers halted. Her head shot up, ears strained forward. A few yards away, two stallions at a storefront were face-to-face. And it didn't seem like peaceful play.
The stallions at hand were strangers. In fact, everyone around her was a stranger, she realized. Her vision began to spin. There would be a fight. Blood. Violence. Testosterone. A crowd started to gather.
Nope, she needed to leave. She turned on her heel- and crashed into a massive, dark figure.
"Oh my stars, I am so sorry," she stumbled, crouching, trying to make herself as small as possible, her cheeks blushing bright red. "I can't, I can't be here, I have to get out..." her voice trailed.
The figure belonged to a massive stallion with purple iridescent horns and forelegs covered in tattoos. On any other day she'd avoid a huge bloke like this- he looked tough as nails, like he could crush her underfoot.
But his eyes were soft and kind, and she felt a glimmer of hope looking at him, like her fears could take a rest.
She turned to the scene forming behind her. "Do- do you know what's happening?" It was a stupid question, really, as if this stranger knew any more than she did, and it only revealed that she had no idea what she was doing. But she was desperate for some clarity or a kind word.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 8, 2016 7:40:17 GMT -6
vidar When I was 16, my senses fooled me,
i knew something would always rule me Vidar had been a fool to think they'd come so close. Any sense of relief he had felt moments before was tightening his stomach now, urging blood to his hooves. His raiders, scouting smaller settlements on the distant mountains, were too far to be of any use. His brothers would not be coming to his aid. It had been his idea that the fewer of them that traveled into town, the less attention they would attract. Vidar wished suddenly that he'd brought an army.
Astrid's gentle sound behind him drew his eye for a moment --he did not take the time to be thankful that her horn had only struck his tail-- before he regarded the beast ahead of him again. The stallion who had spoken, like many of the horses whose eyes were attracted by the threat in his voice, nearly dwarfed Vidar, if not in height then certainly in breadth. Vidar was lean as an adder. They would learn he struck like one too.
He'd been outnumbered before. He still liked his chances.
A giant of a man appeared to one side of him from an alley, closing off any chance of evasion as an angry-faced stallion closed in from the opposite direction. Nearby merchants abandoned their posts to stare, and a skittish girl began to tremble at the sight of it all.
Fleeing was not an option. Feeling the weight of his sword at his side, Vidar turned his scarlet gaze to his sister once more, reading her eyes. It was perhaps not the most diplomatic of choices; the fear on her face injected war into his veins.
"And who should?" His voice was calm but belligerent, and an eerie stability relaxed his startled posture as he spread his four hooves evenly. "The criminal you call Warlord? That coward who hides behind her armies to send her enemies to rot?"
He absorbed the crowd in his peripheral as his eyes remained focused on the man who had spoken. Vidar kept special, invisible attention on that quaking girl. He'd been raised to use everything in his environment.
"She should have killed us when she had the chance," he said it like a joke, with well-rehearsed cadence. It was a Bloody Flank motto, and matched the smile on Vidar's face. "What will you do?" word count: 385 | post 2 |
|
|
|
Post by fediarwoods on Aug 8, 2016 9:19:42 GMT -6
Southpaw | War-Forged | Stationary Merchant
He was on tension, even if it couldn't be read from his body, knowing this could go south in a million of ways in an incredible speed. A crowd had gathered around them, most of them silently, others of them squeaking in anxiety on what was about to happen. But there was nothing about to happen, yet. He noticed the painted stallion's sword hanging from his side, but he wasn't one who was in for a fight, even though he might be winning easily. He had always been more of diplomacy, than of violence. His size, muscles and scars might look otherwise, but he would always try to fix things with a conversation first. But he had boundaries too and when it finally came to the point to choose, he wouldn't be wary of using his strength to smash that body of his back in that creeping hole he came from.
''Tearing down the broken system and dividing a country seems of no use either, does it?'' his heavy voice sarcastic with no change in his facial features what so ever. He knew that after the banishment their clan only had losses. He had no idea where their little camp was, or how big it was, but his guess was that it was small, and pathetic, and only involved creeps like him that just didn't know when to stop. However, Southpaw was not here to make it a war - he just wanted them to get the fuck out of his town, faster than they came. And if they wouldn't, he would lend them a hand. Or hoof. He was a diplomatic, calm, but grumpy stallion, but when you laid your hands on his Onea you might as well lay low for a while.
The painted stallion in front of him had an eerie calmness as he spoke, his words sarcastic and his tone warring. Southpaw let his amber eyes gaze towards the figure behind him; the same paint markings, slightly lighter in build. And the way he seemed to shield her and keep her from sight, he had the pretty idea he was so stupid to take a lady friend to the party. His eyes lingered a little longer on the figure behind him, before he locked eyes with the painted stallion again.
''Ay, on that front - I agree with you. They should have hanged you when they got the chance,'' no threatening tone this time, but a thread instead. He curled one corner of his lips up on a fake, awry smile. He was so not in for jokes, so not in for the theater the painted stallion was making in front of him. He had made a mistake by thinking he could just wander around here, without consequences. So if he wanted theater; he could very well get it.
''Well, let's say telling you to get your ass out of town hasn't worked in the past. Maybe there have to be heavier consequences this time. Why don't you introduce your little lady friend to us?''
[Post 2 | Word Count: 511]
|
|
|
|
Post by catac0rny on Aug 8, 2016 11:33:53 GMT -6
Greer | War-forged | Stationary Merchant
As she looked from the doorway of her shop, she grew increasingly anxious. The tension filled the air between the three horses. Greer noticed a rather anxious looking mare bump into Judiah, a horse Greer had only ever said a few words to. The mare seemed skittish but for the time being she focused on the chaos that could possibly ensue.
She heard the larger of the two horses she had yet to recognize utter a few unkind words about Hira, but this did not bother her. What bothered her was his next words. "She should have killed us when she had the chance." She heard the horse say. Finally she recognized the two, and took a step toward Southpaw. These horses could be dangerous and she was not about to let a fight happen near her shop. These horses were clearly apart of the bloody flanks who, as far as her mother had told her, were not to be trusted. She mad the decision to intervene before things got much worse. Oh why do the shields have to be gone? Greer thought to herself with a quiet sigh.
"You two do not belong here." She said, but not in a harsh angry tone and instead a calm assertive one. "So, if you would kindly leave the town it would be much appreciated." Greer said, nodding as she spoke. She believed that fighting was a waste of time and did not want to be apart of it.
[Post 2 | Word count: 251]
|
|
|
|
Post by Jennycallie on Aug 8, 2016 12:57:40 GMT -6
Checkpoint One: The disgraced Bloody Flank members have stood their ground, emboldened by the lack of any responding Shields or Raiders, and a discourse, albeit tense and belligerent, has opened between the two groups.
|
|
|
|
Post by Queerly on Aug 9, 2016 8:25:35 GMT -6
Hetta | War-Forged Medic | The Bear, Mother of the War Lord
"Heavier consequences, indeed. It’s starting to look like these criminals respond better to violence than friendly advice.”
Hetta’s voice was a rumbling, unpleasant creature that scraped across flesh like a whetstone. It was not particularly loud, nor was it specially threatening, yet it cut through the pause of tension-weighted conversation with a violent strike of authority. With great plumes of condensation proceeding from her nostrils, Hetta shouldered her way through the assembled crowd. The Bear planted herself firmly at the front, observing the trespasser with the dismissive once-over intuitive to all grizzled warriors. Her eyes drifted to and lingered on his patterned leg, narrowing. Ah.
"Your reputation precedes you, kid. It didn’t mention you were a runt, though.” Hetta drawled. There was a fury in her blood that was fast reaching its boiling point, but she’d lived long enough to know when a temper was a boon and when it was a hindrance. Vidar was not the hulking beast that the stories implied, which meant he either made up for it in adept crewmen or his own cleverness. Hetta despised cunning rogue hearts, but she knew better than to underestimate them. They fed upon warrior hubris like opportunistic vermin.
The old Bear raised her voice, addressing the crowd at large while her gaze remained staunchly focused on her enemy. “You lot must not know who you’re looking at. This shitstain is the reason your trade ships keep getting lost at sea. He’s the one slaughtering your suppliers, murderin’ every hoof on board the vessels. He kills your people and your business, and you’re fucking trying to send him on his way?”
The mare’s lip curled to bear teeth, disgust weaved in her sandpapery tone. “Your War Lord made it clear what would happen if their kind ever set hoof in our territory. Are you going to dishonor her by letting a butcher of your kinsmen walk out of here alive? Are you simpering cowards, or are you War-Forged?" The Bear's eyes glittered with something like fire. This stallion, this snake, small though he was to the memory of the volatile mountain that had slain her mate and in turn been slain, could not be permitted to leave Skeldr alive. There was vengeance to be taken, the blood at his hooves demanding accountability. Vidar had been free to slaughter their populace and pride for long enough.
"Who's the girl, Vidar?" Hetta snarled.
-------------
WC: 409
|
|
|
|
Post by PaganStars on Aug 9, 2016 14:38:01 GMT -6
Judiah stood stock still as he watched the others gather, ears forward as he listened to southpaw. He took another step forward when he was suddenly bumped into, barely noticing the much shorter mare. He almost jumped right out of his skin, pulling his head back and looking down as his heart raced. He blinked a few times before calming down, realizing she wasn't a raider. Judiah licked his lips and lifted his head to look back at the escalating scene. Clearing his throat, he looked don at the mare again "I-I'm not too sure but it looks like it's gonna be bloody" he spoke, his voice filled with concern rather than fear "here, get up" he said gently, helping the mare rise to her feet. He stepped forward until he was completely out of the alley way, turning to face the intruders "try and stay behind me, okay? I'm pretty tough, so I can take a few hits" he winked and chuckled nervously, his smile fading as he gulped silently. He was about to step forward when he stopped once more, addressing the mares "Oh, and my name's Judiah" he smiled nervously.
with formalities out of the way, Judiah slowly stepped forward with the girl, furrowing his brows and wrinkling his nose at the two intruders, trying to look more intimidating. He ruffled up the fur on his spine and tail, ears pressed flat as listened to soutpaw speak, turning his head ever so slightly as Hetta pushed her way forward, more intimidating than a pack of Grizzly bears (and they didn't even travel in packs!) As he turned his head to glance back at the strangers, he used his telekinesis to pull out a large cast iron frying pan from his backpack, holding it in front of himself like a knife.
Post 2 | word count 308
|
|
|
|
Post by catac0rny on Aug 9, 2016 16:11:12 GMT -6
Greer | War-forged | Stationary Merchant
Greer turned swiftly at the sound of Hetta making her way forward. She had only ever seen her around and did not know very much of the mare other then the fact she was Hira's mother. She almost laughed at how well she belittled Vidar, but kept a stone cold face. She nodded at Hetta's points, agreeing with each and every one of them. She knew the depths of these horse betrayal, and what their family had done to Hetta's mate.
What had happened to Greers mother would haunt her for the rest of her life and she would never forgive Hira for having an alliance with Aodh that caused the enslavement of her mother, but she felt a sense of pride which she could not deter. This herd had been her home for her entire life, and her mothers and her fathers. They had grown up here like she had and no matter how much she despised violence she would not let herself stand down to these outlaws because she felt a sense of pity for them. Taking a few steps forward, she stood at Hetta's side, prepared to defend her herd even though it went against her morals. On her face she wore an expression of distaste, and looked down her nose at them even though she was only a very small bit taller then Vidar.
[Post 3 | Word Count: 232]
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 11, 2016 7:37:55 GMT -6
vidar i lift your chin and I grin at you As you come to
man, I'm running round your head with a bolo knife
For a moment, Vidar nearly relaxed. He had to laugh; the War-Forged had become so gentle under the Coward's rule that they were prepared to send him on his way without so much as a slap on the wrist. In his grandfather's time, such tresspasses would have been punished by death. Entire branches of his own family tree had been pruned for far less. If this is what had become of Onea... Well, then his clan had an easy fight ahead of them. While the merchants grew soft and fat in their valley, the Bloody Flanks were being hammered into steel.
The beast drew attention to Astrid, and Vidar slid his hind leg back, hoof clacking against the doorframe to block passage to her. He barely had time to open his mouth before the shopkeep next door caught his eye, and seemed to be working up the courage to speak. He was glad his clan's name still inspired the same fear it used to. He almost wished he was wearing their sigil now. " 'Kindly leave town'?" His grin spread.
Looking conspiratorially back at Astrid, flicking his eyes once at the bow and quiver he'd insisted she pack, he barked a laugh and brought his stare to Greer's face. "Oh, We certainly will," his voice was layered thick with salty sweetness. "We wouldn't want to cause a ruckus."
His next rumble of laughter died in his gut when an older voice cut the crowd. Vidar didn't know the woman that arrived, but he recognized the aggression of a veteran; he'd seen the same ire in his father. She looked like Hira, but without the horn that would have marked her as one of Kaia's chosen; his stomach fell. The sight of the hatred in her expression set his jaw and raised his back.
Hira's shields may have been gone, but it seemed that Garok's remained.
So he wasn't to leave here without a fight after all; his eyes skittered across the gathering once more while he took in Hetta's words. Odds were still in his favor. These people weren't soldiers. Most of them weren't even fit to be War-Forged. "I wonder what my father will say when he hears that the mountain's greatest defender is this hag?"
"Two hooves in the grave, and she's the only one ready to do what it takes." His attention flashed to Southpaw, and he echoed Hetta's words, taunting him with eye contact. "Are you War-Forged?"
When Hetta asked about Astrid, Vidar rounded on her, still studying the movement of the crowd indirectly. He'd been the target of mobs his whole life, and he was not about to be sneaked up on now. He ignored her question, asking instead: "You were there, weren't you? When my grandfather split that skull?" He turned his head to study her with one ruby eye. "How did you feel when you heard about a longship with red sails?"
The Bloody Flank sigil, he was sure she'd heard, had recently changed. Generations ago, they had led a coup under a flag depicting a flayed unicorn hide on a red field. Now the scarlet banner whipping at his mast had a new addition: unlocked shackles near the ankles, with broken chains.
"What do the War-Forged do with trespassers these days?" He asked with a smile, looking briefly at Judiah and the girl with special interest. "Ask them to apologize? Take them out for tea to get to know them a little better?" He flicked his cloak back, drew his sword with a loud scrape and a cackle. "Just want to know what I'm in for." 602 words | post 3 |
|
|
|
Post by tarriedsea on Aug 11, 2016 9:06:49 GMT -6
She didn't like the way he kept looking at her.
He'd catch her with the corner of his eye, and she felt shivers run down her legs. Legs that were now infinitely curious about what was going to happen. She'd stay out of the way, low and unseen, not daring to steep half a hoof into the anticipated fray. But this was already more exciting than the past month of her "normal" life. So while terror gripped her, a morbid curiosity tickled her mind.
She cowered behind Judiah, who was as reassuring as she'd hoped, and watched as he pulled a- a pan? a freaking frying pan? - out of his bag. Oh gods. We're done for.
She could cut the tension with a dull sword, but things seemed like they were going to blow over, and Gosslyn held her breath- until a hardened, older voice cried out.
"It’s starting to look like these criminals respond better to violence than friendly advice.”
A small- way, way too small to be this bold- grizzled mare stepped forward. Amidst all these stallions, it was almost comical to see a horse of her stature rising up to challenge the intruders. Then another horse- a mare!- joined the small one.
Certainly Hira's influence was present even in her absence. Mares stepping up, standing in the faces of their enemies while the stallions around stared a length away. Gosslyn couldn't help but let a small grin escape the corner of her mouth.
And in the next moment, the intruder stallion had a sword at hand.
"Kaia above and below, spare this land from violence..." she whispered.
|
|
|
|
Post by firebirdfalling on Aug 11, 2016 11:37:20 GMT -6
It seems like they started the party without me, Ritan thought, growling in annoyance. Threats were being thrown left and right like confetti and there was also talk of red sailed ships and Bloody Hooves.
I mean, he didn't like the Bloody Hooves and more than the next horse, but fighting when the medic was low on supplies is just stupid. If there was a fight, he still had to take care of the wounded, no matter who it was. He was a medic and it was his job to help heal. It doesn't matter if it's the enemy or not, you wouldn't wish a death by infection on anyone, no matter how much you hate them. So let's change that shall we?
"If you decide to fight, I would refrain from blocking the doorway. I need supplies and if you wreck the store, I will have nothing to treat you with." Ritan said, pinning his ears back. There were two inside the store that he could tell, one being the shopkeeper and the other a smaller mare, probably the stallion who currently blocked the door's companion.
He could also tell there was a large crowd forming, some backing away, others arming themselves (was that a pan the one stallion was holding?), and others still coming closer. This was not going to end well. So much for his day off.
[Post 2 // WC 229]
(OOC: I'm writing this post on my phone so please excus any typos or formatting issues you may find)
|
|
|
|
Post by fediarwoods on Aug 12, 2016 7:31:06 GMT -6
Southpaw | War-Forged | Stationary Merchant
He didn't like the crowd that gathered around them. It was a sign of Onea's current weakness, a sign of their missing Shields, their missing Raiders. One even more coward than the other, and even some that thought these two trespassers, these two criminals were going to kindly leave town. His ears pressed backwards, hiding beneath his thick, messy dreads. Over his death body.
A harsh voice cut through the tense silence like a knife, and for a second his eyes darted over to her. Half his size, but a body like a bear nonetheless. He could only enjoy the way she degraded the stallion from the small stature she herself had. She was frightening, her grizzled coat standing out in the crowd. She was the roots of the War-Forged, roots they were slowly loosing. Roots that were fading in the easiness of which they lived with. And the more he thought about it, the angrier he got.
Oh, sure, he was diplomatic - he always was. But diplomacy was over now and all he wanted was crushing this stallion's damn skull. To hear it crackle beneath his hooves, to hunt his cursed soul out of his slender body.
By the time Vidar's eyes darted back to him, repeating the Bear's words, his blood was already boiling. He growled between his teeth, his eyes solely focussed on the slender stallion in front of him. A corner of his lips curled in a slight smile when he pulled his sword out with a loud scraping sound of the blade. Was that how he wanted to play this? Southpaw's eyes shone with a certain whimsicality, looking straight past the stallion's figure to the small figure behind him that he kept locked inside. With the shone of his golden telekineses he pulled a big, heavy hammer out of the ragged bag hanging from his shoulder. The odds of being a simple builder: always having tools on hand that could also function as a war hammer to bash someone's skull with.
Tea? He let go of a chuckle as he played with the war hammer, turning a circle with it in the air by playing with gravity. ''Oh, no worries, there will be nothing left to treat,'' he growled from in between his teeth, replying on the Medic without even looking at him. His eyes kept focussed on that one object behind Vidar. The one object he tried to hide, tried to keep away from them. And the more he did, the more Southpaw wanted to get his hands on it, on her.
With that same lopsided smile still plastered on his dark muzzle he set his big body into motion; tense muscles rolling under his thick skin, rounding around Vidar. He crept closer to the shop, moving opposite of the old bear of a mare, a few of the crowd standing at his back, so the stallion had to divide his attention, or choose to focus on one of them. ''Come one, mate, we want to meet her! Why don't you want to introduce us to our new little toy?'' If he could just get him away from the shop's entrance, he could get his hooves on his little friend and he would have him exactly where he wanted to have him. Than it was finally time to play.
[Post 3 | Word Count: 555]
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 15, 2016 7:53:53 GMT -6
vidar but dont you understand?
the hunger makes the man The small voice of the girl he'd been watching caught Vidar's ear, and he couldn't help himself. He turned both eyes on her --while Southpaw moved around him in the corner of his vision-- and gave one syllable of a bitter laugh. "This land is violent," he began. "Kaia makes it violent. Your warlord makes it violent. So do your fellows." Hira's punishment of his bloodline had damned Vidar to a world of desperation; he had spent over two decades in the gruesome prison her judgment had created for the Bloody Flanks, paying the price for sins committed years before his birth.
His attention jumped to Southpaw, who must have believed himself stealthy, and brandished his blade in the larger stallion's direction. "They would hang a girl for my grandfather's crimes," Vidar's face contorted into a snarl. "Fitting that they're willing to die for Hira's."
His gaze did not flash back to Astrid, jumping instead from Southpaw to Hetta, but he dipped his jaw to his sister and said in a near-silent voice: "Like we practiced."
Since childhood, Astrid had been his only true distraction from the purpose his parents had given him. The only time he had paused his studies was to share his training with her: secret archery practice in the woods, long stories of the old heroes and the God's War told in the nighttime silence of their childhood home. Her brilliance had always inspired him more than his clan's vengeance; he would not let Astrid's light die on a god-forsaken mountain.
And certainly not here.
He refused to speak any more of her, keeping his feet planted against Southpaw instead. "Don't mind her; you haven't met me," he wasn't laughing now. "My name is Vidar, raider of the Bloody Flanks and captain of the Trespasser," He locked eyes with Hetta, just for a moment, and imagined Hira in her place. "If you truly love your Coward more than your life, then stand in the way. I could use the practice for when she gets home." He scanned the faces of those gathered, and focused on the traces of doubt in Greer's face. "But surely some of you see the Hira that I see... We carry medicine and seed; would you kill us to appease the corrupt?"
388 words | post 4 |
|
|
|
Post by PaganStars on Aug 19, 2016 20:38:06 GMT -6
It was all starting to become too much for Judiah, his heart beat picking up as horse after horse spoke up against the intruder. He tried to listen, really he did, but all he could hear was the urgent beating of his heart and the blood pumping through his veins. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes he tried to remember what his mother used to tell him when he was bullied as a child. In his mind he could hear her soft voice and gentle touch of her muzzle against his cheeks, wiping away his tears and gently assuring him that everything was fine. With a gasp he opened his eyes, something clicking in his mind. With a snort, his ears pulled back and he stepped forward, eyebrows furrowed as he watched the stallion intruder slowly pull a sword from his belt. Judiah clenched his jaw and raised the pan that he held with his telekinesis. Flaring his nostrils, he placed one hoof forward and one back, readying his stance to-
With a grunt, he hurled the Large pan with all his brute strength, aiming for the head of the intruder. As if in slow motion, Judiah watched the pan whiz through the air, slicing past the gathered crowd and-
TWANG
Judiah's jaw dropped as he actually managed to hit the horse in the face, the pan bouncing off and landing on the cobbled street with the scraping sound of steel against metal. Breaking momentarily from his surprise, Judiah furrowed his brows again , horns pointed at the intruders "I-If you wanted to go out peacefully you shouldn't have drawn your sword!" he spat, ears folded back
Post 3 | Word count 283
|
|
|
|
Post by catac0rny on Aug 20, 2016 9:25:07 GMT -6
Greer | War-Forged | Stationary Merchant
Greer watched as Vidar drew his sword with an cold scowl on her face, pinning her ears as she watched him. As he teased her she couldn't help but but want to split his skull open but knew she could never bring herself to do something like that. Still, she watched the conversation quietly but did not break her stare at Vidar, her icy blue eyes locking onto his red ones. The way he spoke sickened her. She glanced at the sword and then back at him. She felt a sense of fear in the back of her mind, due to the fact she had no weapon to defend herself with but her own fighting skills which were non existent. She thought back to her shop, wondering what she could use as a weapon, knowing now that she would need one. These horses would not be leaving even if they wanted to. Perhaps her broom would work, she had left it near the door. Broken in half it could be quiet useful.
Her thoughts were broken when a large object flew past her head and right into Vidars face. Was that a frying pan? She suppressed a giggle and looked at the horse who had thrown it. It was Judiah who had thrown it. She turned back to the intruders, using her telekinesis to get her broom.
[Post 4 | Word Count: 231]
|
|
|
|
Post by firebirdfalling on Aug 20, 2016 14:20:18 GMT -6
Ritan could hear the stallion draw his sword, the rasping of metal on leather a clear indicator of what was about to go down. Ritan took a step back, preparing himself for the worst. He threw up a telekinesis shield, not as nice as the blessing kind, not able to stop things that passed through it, but it did slow objects down slightly so that he could either get out of the way or minimalism the damage that a blow may cause. Not foolproof, but it usually stopped most branches from whipping in his face. Though, it most certainly wouldn't stop a sword swing.
Given, he wasn't prepared for battle of any kind, it was quickly irrelevant once that frying pan flew past his head, just above his shield and smacked the Bloody-hoof right in the face. He could hear the audible crack that was the impact. He cringed, know his pain. Just like being kicked in the face by a colt.
The shopkeeper made a weird muffled noise, most likely stifling a laugh. Well, he had to admit, it was pretty funny. But, that just made matters worse.
[Post 3 // WC 189]
[OOC: Ritan's Telekinesis is almost invisible to the naked eye, the only way to see it is to either throw some sort of sand/snow or look for heat like waves that occur in the summer or over hot objects.]
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 24, 2016 10:20:39 GMT -6
vidar with all that lies in front of us,
the world looks so ridiculous to me With his 'hands' full with the hilt of his sword, Vidar couldn't deflect the projectile with telekinesis, but did manage to avoid the brunt of the blow; nearly 19 years of combat training (and the handy fact of having eyes on either side of his head) made Vidar hard to sneak up on.
That said, he wasn't invincible.
The heavy iron hit Vidar's horn when he failed to evade it entirely, wrenching his head painfully on his neck, reverberating in his teeth. He stumbled into his opposite hoof, the skillet clanging loudly to the floor, and centered his eyes on Judiah while the ringing in his skull echoed away. His head wasn't clear enough to hear what the oaf of a stallion said. Vidar didn't care. The words of dead men meant little.
His mental calculations were quick: the enemies were a loudmouthed old woman, a handful of terrified civilians, a blind medic with no clear allegiance, a gaunt shopkeep (with a broom?) and... the girl. "Astrid," Vidar said quietly, his voice low as he lifted his head again. "Draw."
He'd spent his whole life fighting bigger horses, ones with coal hearts and iron hooves. Judiah did not frighten him. Southpaw, with all his rage, did not frighten him. It wasn't a fight Vidar was planning, anyway. He took a slow, deliberate breath, ignoring the pain radiating in his face.
Vidar dashed without warning, sword pulled back as he leaped in Judiah's direction, his body low to the ground. As Judiah squared for impact, Vidar locked his knees into his landing, swinging nimbly to pivot his haunches around him. He'd dashed right past Judiah, turning on his forelegs to stand immediately beside Gosslyn, his sword to her thin neck. The heat of adrenaline radiated off of him as he pressed his side to hers, his blade keeping her to him.
He was not greatly concerned about leaving Astrid in the doorway now that she was armed; one would be hard-pressed to find a better shot than her. To the dumbfounded faces of those gathered, he spoke loudly: "We'll be on our way," he said, yanking Gosslyn back away from the crowd, and jerking his head for Astrid to follow. "If we aren't followed, the girl will live."
He rolled a crimson eye down to her for a second. His skin smelled like ocean salt. "What's your name?" 396 words | post 5 i got tarried-sea's permission for this ; ) |
|
|
|
Post by tarriedsea on Aug 24, 2016 14:16:02 GMT -6
Everything happened at the speed of light.
The pan resounded off Vidar's horn like a shallow gong. Gosslyn's jaw fell open. He actually did it. It was something from a children's story. "And then the commoner defeated the enemy with nothing but an iron skillet." Anything to-
He was charging right
in
her
direction.
She skittered back in a flurry of hooves and her back collided with a stone wall. She assumed he was going for Judiah's jugular after that show of pithy violence. But then he locked eyes with her again and Gosslyn knew she wasn't escaping.
His body slammed into her with such force, she could feel a rib crack deep in her gut. She gasped sharply. His body was sickly warm and powerful, gross and evil against her skin. Suddenly the flash of a blade in the corner of her eye, and a cold edge against her throat.
She couldn't breathe. Her whole body was paralyzed. She dared not even blink. Why her? She hadn't thrown it. She had done nothing. She had stood in the shadows and watched, she would not have fought him- not in a million years!
She swallowed carefully, trying to not move too much against the blade. She felt a thin cut, and a single droplet of blood stained her white hair. Fainting was not out of the question.
She focused on her breathing. She looked beyond the crowd to get a good look at the girl he'd been traveling with. Her eyes were kind and soft. Was she a prisoner? A harlot? A wife? She had a sword now.
"If we aren't followed, the girl will live."
He jerked and pushed her away from the crowd, never relaxing the sword at her throat and beckoning the mare he'd been traveling with.
It took a few seconds before she registered that he spoke to her. The world was spinning dangerously. "Oh, uh... I'm-"
She briefly considered lying for her own protection. But if things escalated and he found out she deceived him, she'd be in worse trouble. Besides, if she died here then the spectators should know her name. Make it easier to find her family later.
"I'm Goss- Goss... Gosslyn." She meant to say it loud enough for the onlookers to hear, but it came out as a squeak and six octaves higher than her normal pitch. Brilliant.
Gosslyn wished she had the heart of a lion, that she would sacrifice herself for the citizens of Onea to do away with this evil presence.
But she didn't. She wanted to live. She wanted to live.
|
|
|
|
Post by PaganStars on Aug 24, 2016 14:47:52 GMT -6
Judiah had watched as the skillet landed with a scrap, watching as the horse growled and shook his head, his ears most definitely ringing after having his horn almost crack by the pan. He watched as he slowly turned to eye him, Judiah's heart almost freezing at the sight of his cold gaze. But he did not falter, did not lower his head in defeat and look away. Yes, his heart was beating a kilometre a minute and his gut was screaming at him to just leave, maybe take a nice trip to Serora or Aodh for a little bit. I mean, come on Judiah, not even four months ago he had almost been smothered by a mountain of snow! now this!!?
Flaring his nostrils, Judiah snorted and pointed his sharp horns Vidar's way, deciding that he needed to stop being so afraid of life, so afraid of every little thing that came his way. He needed to-
Time seemed to move slowly as the other stallion charged, sun glinting off of the sharp steel sword that was held angled at Judiah. But Judiah did not turn and run, no, he squared himself up. He readied his stance and-
He went right past him. Judiah didn't even have time to react, his eyes wide as the stallion zipped past him, the slight breeze from it causing his hair to blow away from his face. Why would he run past him? As things seemed to return to his normal speed, Judiah reared and stumbled back, ready for a sword to plunge into his side or slice his neck. He landed with a large thud and a crack of hoof against stone, ready to bring up his hooves once more and crush them against the stallions skull but.
Gosslyn
Judiah's heart dropped and he stumbled backwards, almost tripping on a raised stone. His eyes wide and his mouth agape he looked at the mare who he had said he would protect. "try and stay behind me, okay? I'm pretty tough, so I can take a few hits" the words rushed through Judiah's mind, his eyes following the single droplet of blood that rushed down her smooth coat. Screaming memories of Vashti raced through his mind, the blood and the cold steel that had attacked his coat, the look in Vashti's eyes as Judiah failed to protect her, his eyes following the blood that flowed down her coat and stained the snow red. It all came flooding back and Judiah was left reeling. It was happening again, it was all his fault he couldn't protect her, couldn't protect them.
What had he done.
Post 4 | word count 445
|
|
|
|
Post by catac0rny on Aug 24, 2016 15:49:17 GMT -6
Greer | War-Forged | Stationary Merchant
Greer watched as the mare apparently named 'Astrid' drew her sword. At this moment Greer snapped the end off her broom, leaving a sharp wood point on one end. She eyed the mare, squinting at her, and positioning the broom in her direction. Without warning, she watched as Vidar charged toward Judiah, power radiating from his galloping form. Greer turned on her haunches, prepared to defend her acquaintance, only to see that vile horse leap past Judiah and plow into the gentle, anxious looking mare. Greer felt pain on her own throat as she watched him position his sword against hers.
"If we arent followed, the girl will live." She heard that beast say, and stomped a hoof in frustration. How dare he come to their town and take one of their citizens. How dare they! She heard the mare squeak something but didn't hear it.
"Let go of her!" Greer ordered, ears flat, teeth bared for all to see as she took a few steps forward. "Or I will have to take action." She said in a voice that was unrecognizable, even to herself. A voice filled with rage, and pure blood thirst. After she made her orders she looked at his companion, wondering if she could over power her. Should she? It would risk the life of that mare who she didn't even know but perhaps it would change this criminals mind. If only they had left peacefully.
[Post: 5 | Word Count: 244]
|
|
|
|
Post by Queerly on Aug 30, 2016 18:40:42 GMT -6
“Astrid,” Vidar called, and Astrid’s flesh had prickled, anticipating the words to come. In the few seconds it took her brother to gain the upper hoof, Astrid drew her crossbow from its hiding place and set the bolt into place. The short, thick arrow boasted barbs that, once embedded in flesh, could not be removed by a determined yank. One would have to cut the bolt out, should they live long enough to concern themselves with such things. Each bolt had been poisoned, the iron tips submerged in water previously used to boil deadly plants.
Keeping Vidar in her peripherals, Astrid let her focus slide to Greer, who seemed the to be the only traitor not focused upon Gosslyn’s precarious situation. It was to her that Astrid raised her crossbow and aimed, a silent threat. With luck, the iron would dissuade the merchant from making any rash decisions. “Careful,” She murmured, stepping from the doorway with cautious, light steps, “Your cooperation is the only thing keeping her alive.”
Shortly, the roan drew alongside Gosslyn and her brother, scarlet eyes wavering from Greer only to contemplate the sneer on Hetta’s face. It would have been satisfying to lay a bolt between the old mare’s eyes, but, ah- that was only projection. The matriarch was not her daughter, and though Hira’s grief would be small compensation for the grief of a dying clan, no true good would come from this moment growing out of hoof.
“We are leaving.” Astrid announced. “Do not follow us if she means anything to you.”
273 || Post 3 for Astrid & Hetta
|
|
|
|
Post by fediarwoods on Sept 3, 2016 5:14:43 GMT -6
Southpaw | War-Forged | Stationary Merchant
Everything was moving so fast and before he could try and lash a new scar upon Vidar's skin, the agile stallion had already moved out of reach and straight up to a grey mare's throat. He had been focussing on the mare behind Vidar's hindquarters so badly, making the gears of his mind turn to try and outsmart him and her, that he'd been caught off guard. 'You're a fucking fool.' He cursed himself for it, grinding his teeth as he watched the scene unfold, how a droplet of blood trickled down the mare's light coat. He could see her legs tremble beneath her body,
and as his eyes flashed back to the mare he had been focussing on so badly, he realized there was nothing he could do. If he hadn't been so mad, he could've smirked at how Greer defended herself with half of a broom, even though it looked like nothing in comparison to the short, thick arrow's the roan mare in front of him used to defend herself with. His amber eyes lingered on the barbs of the arrow for a mere few seconds, before they traveled back up to her red eyes. He could lunch himself at her and, with that, risk to have an arrow shot straight in his flesh. In his chest, or if she was really good in his throat, but he could survive that. He could jump right on her, work her to the ground with his heavy weight. And than he would have her; his most precious thing, and he could bribe him with it.
His eyes wavered back to Vidar, his ears buried against his neck. But he couldn't, no matter how bad he wanted to. Vidar would slice the girl's throat like it was nothing, making her young blood color the earth red beneath their hooves. And with the two being out of his reach, they were already a step ahead of them. They would turn and run in the terror they would create with killing the girl in front of everyone's eyes, and they would get away.
No matter how badly he wanted to catch them, hurt them, hang them, they couldn't. He might be one to be able to murder and hurt, he couldn't risk the death of an innocent life to maybe catch them. That said, what was a promise from those two criminals worth, anyway?
''Your words are worth nothing,'' he said as he followed the roan's light, cautious steps back to Vidar's side. ''Why would we believe you when you say you will keep her alive if you take her?'' he growled beneath his teeth, his amber eyes traveling between Vidar and the young, grey, trembling mare in his grip. They couldn't let her die, no matter how badly they wanted to hang them for their acts.
[Post 4 | Word Count: 478]
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Sept 3, 2016 7:15:51 GMT -6
vidar but don't you understand?
the hunger makes the man "Gosslyn," his low voice, quiet enough that only she could hear him clearly, echoed her as she said her name. "Gosslyn, my dear, if your friends cooperate, you'll be just fine," the soothing, mocking tone in his voice was patronizing, but his face was too alert to appear amused. "Be sure to let them know." The blood in his ears was loud as his eyes jumped between the gathered faces, ranging from Judiah's devastation to Southpaw's grieving fury and Greer's undisciplined anger. The shopkeeper's threatening steps in his direction made him jerk his head up, hissing quietly between his teeth and presenting the blade to Gosslyn's throat as a warning. The sword rotated around her neck, gentle as a violin's bow, but did not cut her.
He was an artist with a blade. He would only do exactly as much damage as he intended.
Vidar took a steadying breath as Astrid emerged with her weapon at the ready, trying not to let the fear numb his limbs. This situation was more harrowing than any attack he'd ever deflected, every siege he'd ever orchestrated. They were here in the land of his family's killers, confronted by agents of their highest oppressor, and had miles to go before they would be free. Who was to say what would follow them back to the mountains? What would happen now that Onea knew the Bloody Flanks survived?
What would happen to Astrid?
Vidar's mouth was dry as he tried to pretend the wildness in his eyes was courage, and kept close watch on his sister as she approached him. They'd come so close. All the way here, all the way into the store unrecognized. Freedom had been within arm's reach and now they were dealing with a disaster. The result of this mission determined the fate of his clan, of Astrid's future. He could not fail now. He took a deep breath, holding his tense shoulder to Gosslyn's.
"My words are all you have, lowlander," he heard himself say to Southpaw, his mind focused on Astrid as she drew close, on the long journey back north. "Come," he said more quietly to Gosslyn as his sister came into range, retreating towards the road. "Test my integrity at sweet Gosslyn's expense." 380 words | post 6 |
|
