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Post by Kytte on Oct 20, 2017 16:21:28 GMT -6
 E M B Y R S S
Member of the Seroran Council
Opinions and sentiment floated about the negotiation room, a few horses audibly displeased by choosing to side with the Talorians. And, to some effect, rightly so. The closed-door negotiations that Embryss had been involved in were a poor reflection of Seroras ideals, and the silencing of a faithful Mullah, another. Embryss’s heart was torn in two – she knew the ferocity that would come to them in the coming months, but she also knew that casting out a Mullah, one connected to Alya and one whom could interpret their will perhaps better than any of Seroras inhabitants was shameful. Nevertheless, Osprey did so what he thought was best, or so Embryss hoped, for the good of Serora.
Embryss stomped her hoof in agreement with her brother, Yeshua. Others slowly cut up the rough with their own concerns; Kristopher, Syria, Crescent, Hesper, Ila all had valid points. Illa and Hesper were a voice of reason in Embryss’s ears, to some extent Crescent as well, for Embryss too had received a blessing and spoke with the goddess. Once the chatter had slowly ebbed, Embryss stomped her foot – the copper clang bounced through the chamber;
“Who are we to interpret Alya’s will in all its immeasurable expanse and greatness?
I too had spoken with Alya, or so that was how it had seemed. Nebulae burnt into my core and stars melted into my veins – blessed with Cosmic manipulation. She mentioned no trifles of the mortal world, just the inevitable fact that War was coming. Whether or not her words were cryptic remains to a Mullah or Shaman, but I cannot deny the facts to which have presented themselves before me;
War-Forged marches in their thousands, Aodh in their hundreds-of-thousands, dragons lindworms, fangs and gnashing. We all know that the treaty with Aodh has scarred us so, my father worked years to try and reach an agreement, just as Syria had after him. Some age-old tensions stretch far beyond us – look to the stars and you can see wind and fire enabled by each other.
The silencing of Nicodemus was shameful – I watched as my friend and Mullah was tossed from the table. Baram did not sign the treaty or make such a decision – they have merely inherited these transgressions. We have a chance right these wrongs and move forward together, but we cannot do so from our graves.”
She paused, and glanced to those who had spoken of treaties past.
“But the inevitable remains clearest to me. If we choose to let fear of past events rule us and turn our backs on the Talori - a peoples also riddled with war, two great herds will be wiped from existence and all our histories, stories and relationship with the goddess will mean for NOTHING! We have been given a chance to step forward, let us do so with the wind-mothers air in our lungs. We are bold. We have mettle. We are Alya’s children, but we cannot do this on our own.
Speak. Fill the room with the air of which Alya has blessed you! We will move through this together, if you can give us your voices - your togetherness. ”
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Post by marineedoq on Oct 21, 2017 7:12:17 GMT -6
Mordekai - Glass Crafter
Mordekai had kept silent throughout the meeting. He had seen no reason to interrupt the stream of voices coming from his herd members, but he listened to them all. The stallion looked through the crowd, seeing Syria as she spoke up Alya's silence. He gave her a quiet nod, showing his agreement with her words. Alya had been silent - it was understandable enough she'd be angry with her herd. A herd that was kind and open, now angry, split and divided, who would stand for it? Especially when it was your family. Another brown mare spoke up about the divided herd, Mordekai didn't know her name, but he agreed with her.
"I agree with those that have spoken here today. We are a family - a herd with a bond stronger than any other herd in Hireath. Why would Alya want to support her family, when that same family has split up, unable to agree? I'm not suggesting we force everyone to agree on the matter, but we need to unite once more: whatever is going on in Aquore, we have promised to help." Mordekai paused, looking around the gathered horses, searching for any face to lock eyes with for just a second. "If we break the treaty, the promise, what will happen to us then?" He finished, a short question with a lot of impact: what would the consequences be?
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Oct 21, 2017 10:13:10 GMT -6
B R I N Y
smell the ocean and feel the sky; let your soul and spirit fly
However, she allowed others to go first, glancing toward each who spoke. She did not consider herself to be an intelligent being, especially when she heard the words leave Syria's lips. She posed some serious questions, that Briny would have never thought of.
It was then that she felt someone someone shoulder brush hers, and a wide smile graced her lips as she felt the familiar muzzle of Kristofer plant a kiss on her ear. She glanced at him with a lopsided grin, only to have it fade when he spoke of his distaste of the treaty. Her ears flicked back, her gaze shifting to Ila at her side. She nodded slowly as she spoke her own opinions.
"I agree with Ila." She said, giving Kristofer an apologetic glance before avoiding eye contact all together. "We are to be a helpful nation, and if someone who is under attack should come begging for such a help..." She paused briefly, trying to find her words. It was rare for her to struggle to speak, but politics always went way over her head. "Well, i would want someone to stop and help me if i was in danger."
She stopped as Embryss spoke up, nodding slowly. "Everyone makes mistakes, but we will not survive if we go against Aodh and War-Forged alone."
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Post by PennthePony on Oct 21, 2017 17:41:29 GMT -6
K R I S T O F E R
Seroran Planter
... ...
Kristofer's ears perked to listen to Embryss as she spoke; her words were always so eloquent and well... well, spoken. He took in her words slowly - he agreed with the fact that their herd would be crushed under the stone and golden hooves of the War Forged and the Aodhian armies. He agreed with Briny that everyone deserved help - when they were trustworthy. But they had to admit, they knew nothing about the Talorian herd - no matter what their Emperor had said. Perhaps there were terrorists, but were they to trust a country full of rogues? And again, those who would brand those who committed a crime? What kind of monster would do that to anyone? But then Briny was giving him those beautiful, big golden eyes... Could he shut his mouth and just let things run their course?
No, he couldn't just let this go, not when his family was in danger. He wasn't going to allow another situation like the treaty with Aodh to happen again, not when he was responsible for the only blood family he had left on this world.
"You are right, Embryss... war is inevitable. And yes, we should help our fellow equine. But even so, should we not know more about these outsiders before we jump into a situation? I do not hold any of the past against Baram, but who is to say we can even trust the Emperor? Why do we not speak to our own ambassadors, who have been to the country itself, experienced its cultures? And I know many of you do not trust her for what she has done, but what about our previous ambassador, Selora? She must know something more than both the Emperor and Osprey himself cared to admit? Why else would she have been branded and forced to stay there in a country of rogues? Does no one agree with me here, that we this treaty has forced us all into a situation we don't even understand?"
Kristofer stamped his hoof hard onto the stone floor, his eyebrows furrowed to darken his green eyes - which seemed all the greener as his passion grew. "Raise your voices, like our Council members have lead you to do! Please, I cannot be the only one who is afraid of war here. We have children at home, wives, husbands, families. What will happen to them if this war arises? Even with the help of the Talorians, how can we be certain we will win this war? What will happen to our families if we lose the war? I don't know about any of you, but I cannot allow my little sister to be sold off into slavery." He looked around at everyone, hearing murmurs from those around him. His ears flicked back, as his worry grew. Was he the only one against the treaty here? Was he the only one who wanted to avoid war like the plague?
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Post by seechem on Oct 23, 2017 15:06:56 GMT -6
 NERO: Nero had listened quietly for a while, gently resting himself against Madden. His overuse of his Blessing was really coming back with vengeance. "If we stand any chance against Aodh we need all the numbers we can get." Nero said softly, Madden standing back a bit so Nero had some room to talk. "I know we know little to nothing of their culture, but at this time we and the Talori have something in common. We need each other in order to secure the survival of all of us." The blue roan took a moment to catch his breath, hoping no one would find his words indignant. He too had fears of the Talori, especially regarding with the ambiguity of the Talori who had taken shelter with them. He steadily returned to the topic at hand, "Right now all we need to worry about is amassing the numbers, the weapons, the supplies to fend off the invaders and protect our home. We can worry about our support later, but if we fail to prepare, we might as well prepare to fail." Hearing Kristofer's impassioned comment Nero flicked his ears in the direction of the stallion. "Is it not better to stand and fight for those we love than to let the war come to us while we bicker over who can and cannot be trusted?" Nero felt Madden gently touch his side and eased up a little. "Our Sultan is prepared to lead us, they want to hear our voices. Whether we like it or not war is coming now, and we must do our best to prepare for it. Our herd needs support, ideas and strategies. Not this." The blue roan took a step back, hoping that that was a clear enough signal that, for now, he had said his piece.
Madden was at his back in an instant, the Vagabond gently casting his eyes on those assembled. Nero turned to Madden and spoke quietly to him in a private, hushed whisper. "Why war? Why now? Haven't we dealt with enough yet?" The strawberry roan signed and gently grazed Nero's side with his muzzle before mumbling in reply, "I don't know, but now was not a good time for your Blessing to call it quits. What ever happens, I' willing to help in an way I can." Nero would have smiled sweetly at that, but his attention was utterly arrested by those around him, his ears swivelling to meet each herd mate's comment.
'writing my poems for the few that look to me, took to me, shook to me, feeling me'
Word Count: 439
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Post by PaganStars on Oct 23, 2017 20:13:11 GMT -6
Jack Jack stood silently, muscles tense and mind abuzz as he listened. He felt a song on his tongue, his throat vibrating as he hummed softly. In the future, would his family sing their praises, of how they stood against an endless sea of fire and pushed back, the winds on their shoulders and strength in their plight. Or would other herds retell the tale of how the peaceful people of the sands and winds fell to the mighty inferno that was Aodh, snow melting from the backs of their allies as they burned the sand into glass. Jack hummed and turned his mind to the future.
That is until a familiar shoulder brushed against his, his gaze turned to Glainne. He did not greet her, though of course he meant no rudeness, but found that he would rather simply stand in silence with his friend, familiars chittering softly together as their owners focused on the fate of their future, the fate of their family. Jack merely continued to hum softly to himself, his gaze following around the room as voice after voice raised up. Inclining his head towards her but not removing his gaze from those that stood before them, Jack quietly spoke to the mare to his side "And what do you think of all...this, Glainne" he paused "What do you think of what is to be" it was vague, he knew that, but he did not wish to push her opinions if she did not wish to voice them.
But voice after voice called, Baram and Embyrss' own responding, pushing the urge to talk, to communicate and share. Where had the communication been when this deal had been signed? When they had joined with Aodh, or when Serora had been plunged into war for the first time? "It's ironic," he spoke lowly "that only now they call for us to share our voices" It may have sound rude, or petty but in Jack's mind it was true. He had no ties to the council, was not biased towards Baram's decision. He would speak his mind, and if Serora resented him for it, so be. He would still aid them, still serve them. And so the prophet felt that energy vibrate through his muscles once more, his tongue too restless to sit still any longer. He did not step forward, nor raise his head, merely flicked his ears forward and turned his gaze to the roof.
"We are repeating history, it would seem. We are going to sign ourselves away once more, shackled and bound to more than just the coming war, but most likely another one in a strange and foreign land. Our saving grace may be the gathered here, and those that stand aside Alya's shrine. You ask us to speak, and so I shall raise up my own voice. I do not agree with the continuation of this treaty. When we agreed to serve the Aodhian's it was because we were dying. No water touched our lands, no food grew. When it was broken, and our efforts in Briem's land seemed dire, we were offered the Oasis. We were saved by a stranger in our land. I believe that it was Alya's will that Ishmael came to us, sought us out and led us to our salvation. And now, She is silent and our home is plagued by angry winds." His gaze turned to Embryss' for but a moment "Who are we to interpret her will? We are mortal, and she is the air in our lungs. What if we continue forth with this, and she is forever silent? What if we do not yet she still does not answer?" Jack shook his head, lowering his gaze
"I do not wish to plague you with 'what if' scenarios...But there are too many unknowns, too many holes in what our good 'friends' from Talori have told us. War never changes, and it will hit us like a tide if we do not stand against it. But if we are weakened from the inside before it even begins, who do not stand a chance in hell. You wish to hear all our voices, but here we stand, fractured and spread on Alya's wind. Not as one"
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Post by SaintPumpkinMuffin on Oct 24, 2017 19:36:29 GMT -6
Ithaca | Savior
Post 1, 457 words
The dust colored stallion stood curled in the shadows, watching with increasing anxiety as the horses around him mumbled and grumbled about. It was easy for him to get lost in his thoughts, and he chose to remain quiet and away, staying out of even his sister Briny's sight. The poor pegasus' wings were folded and twitchy, like a bird fallen too hard from the nest. There were rallying cries from the councillors.
Ithaca opened his mouth soundlessly before he bit down on his lip.
The lack of winds meant that his thick hair and wild feathers were especially unkept, sweat causing the locks to gnarl. All this talk of gods... Ithaca certainly wasn't a mullah or shaman. Talk of what Alya's intentions only worsened his sweating. He was so timid, so soft spoken. He couldn't decide where he stood.
Embryss and Jack's words were powerful, and Ithaca felt his heart begin to catch their passion. Despite his fear, his voice spoke up.
"Harm nothing that does not seek to harm you first." For once, Ithaca's voice was loud; funnily enough, he coughed afterwords, as if the boom had dislodged something in his throat.
Ithaca's hooves pranced as he tried to decide to step forward or not. He let the statement sit in the air for a moment.
"That is what Alya left us, in our laws. But also 'Work together to benefit the well being of the herd'. I-I am unsure..." Ithaca's eyes clouded for a moment as he tried to gather his thoughts. "I-I don't want to anger anyone with my words. Forgive me." A small cough as he cleared his throat once again. "All points made I believe hold merit. Aquore suffers, just as Sedo had suffered, but when we needed aid, Ueno was offered to us. What do Cascade's people have, if not us? What do we have against Ignacio and Kaia's people, if not them?"
"I am afraid. I wish for no Seroran to be harmed, but there are Alya's children throughout Hireath, even in Aquore. Are they not also our brothers and sisters?"
He turned his tired eyes away from his hooves, up towards Embryss. "You're words make me feel brave, councilor. I wish I could offer better words, more advice, something. All I can offer is some remedies for illness," he scoffed, suddenly feeling very small in a room full of skilled speakers. "Which doesn't do much good when my siblings are being sent to fight battles. Either way, a battle is coming. Serora has always been the first to rise for justice, even in the gods' war. The treaty has been made, and blood is going to stain our sands either way. It's the 'why' that's important; protecting innocents from terrorism is the right thing to do, allies to be made or not. Though, we could certainly use all the help we can get."
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Post by Jennycallie on Oct 25, 2017 14:27:21 GMT -6
Abram Abram was late, uncharacteristic for the normally punctual, conscientious former politician. Good manners and a sharp mind for detail weren’t just facets of his personality, but also tools, wielded carefully and with great precision to fit various diplomatic situations. If Abram had ever been late, if he had ever deviated from established procedure, it was sure to be calculated and layered with the proper degrees of subtext. During his tenure as the Ambassador to Breim, it had meant always being present 10 minutes before the official start of any proceedings, to demonstrate his (and by extension, his herd’s) dedication and goodwill. And in War Forged… in War Forged it had usually meant pointedly showing up right on the dot, so he could be seen patiently waiting while the denizens of Onea took their unconcerned time trickling into the meeting.
As Abram approached the gathering, his hooves tracked in runnels of sand that clung to an already dusty coat, dulling the once glossy hair that now hung in lank, untouched tangles. His matted forelock mostly concealed equally dull eyes, as if they too peered at the world through a coating of Seroran sand. His overall demeanor and conduct was uncharacteristic of the Abram who had been appointed Ambassador to two different herds, who had assisted in leading his own herd at the side of his Sultan and soulmate.
But he was not that Abram, not any more. Time and Alya had taken those things from him, and only an aging, slovenly stallion was left behind. Alone.
So it was this new Abram that stopped on the fringes of the crowd, dull and incurious eyes taking in the stirring, uneasy crowd. Once, Abram would have been in the middle of the room, answering questions, assuaging concerns. Helping. Leading. Had he ever truly been that horse? Had he been so arrogant, to think himself happy, fulfilled, a wingless voice for Alya? What a fool he had been.
Abram’s wandering brown gaze lit briefly upon Baram, momentarily visible as the equines in front of him shifted. The new Sultan was attended by Yeshua and Embryss, and staring at his siblings Abram felt something tighten in his gut, a stab of some sort of pain, though like all things the sensation was muted, as if he felt it through a veil of separation. The former Bondmate laughed once, if the short, guttural scrape of sound could be called such. Yes, he had been so arrogant once, and his siblings were arrogant still. Osprey- and even in his mind, his heart, the name scalded Abram like a physical pain- Osprey was gone, he was gone, his hoofprints hardly faded from Alya’s sands and already Abram’s siblings competed for Baram’s favor, approval, a shred of Baram’s power. The equine didn’t matter, only the mantle of rank that they wore. Or the favor that Alya granted them. Abram’s eyes lingered for a moment on Baram’s wings, then Adonis’, and rested finally on the wings of Yeshua. Abram’s twin, but in blood only. Because there Yeshua stood, wings folded proudly over his back, speaking with the new Sultan as easily as he breathed, as if he’d been doing it for years. As if he’d never done such with another Sultan.
For a heartbeat, the veil in Abram’s soul stirred, lifted, and he felt a sudden flare of fury, brown eyes flashing beneath his matted tresses. He was furious at Yeshua, and Embryss, furious at Baram and this crowd of milling, uncertain sheep. He was furious at Alya, and Osprey for choosing the god over his family. He was furious with Aodh and War Forged, and Talori. And he was furious with himself, for having believed once in all of them. For having believed in himself.
The anger drained out of Abram as quickly as it arrived, the muted veil dropping in place once more and leaving only a listless, impotent bitterness in its wake.
“These are nothing but words on the wind,” Abram said, the harshness of the words belayed by the flat, uninterested tone he uttered them in. He didn’t speak loudly; he didn’t much care if he was heard. He was no longer so arrogant. “Baram has already vowed to honor the treaty. It is the only choice they have left to them.” Abram’s eyes wandered over the crowd, while the words were drawn from some disconnected part of him, the that still analyzed, deliberated… still cared. That part of him was not present in his indifferent eyes, his detached voice. “The Talori are not honest with us, and are doubtful as innocent as they proclaimed. Terrorists do not overthrow regimes without provocation, misguided or not. And it does not matter. For if we break our treaty with them- break, for we already agreed to its terms-” Abram would not let them write off Osprey’s actions, sweep them aside to make room for Baram- “then they will seek aid elsewhere. And there’s only one place for them. It won’t be Breim, who turns its face from the sun and strife of the surface. It will be Aodh. Aodh, with whom we already have broken our word, and whom Breim fears. If Talori seeks common ground with Aodh and the Forged…”
Abram flicked his tail carelessly, eyes flat and without compassion.
“There is no choice for us,” he repeated. Words on the wind.
Post 1 |915 words I am so sorry
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Post by haloclimb on Oct 29, 2017 5:22:36 GMT -6
Dorje / Gatherer / Seroran
The old mare slowly plodded her way to the back of the gathering, lifting her head higher to see over the backs of all the early-birds who had arrived on time. It had been a long trek from her homestead, and she had worried less about turning up on time and more about turning up at all. This gathering was important, and she would regret missing it dearly. Plus, she got to see how Baram was dealing with their sultanship- fairly well, it appeared.
Newly elected at the worst possible times, their new Sultan had rather been thrown into the deep end, but seemed to have a good handle on the crowd.
(Though Dorje considered anything below an outright riot 'well-handled', so her opinion may have been a little biased.)
The Kiang did not envy Baram for their new role; the mess Osprey had left them was, to be frank, an utter disgrace. War looming with Aodh and the War-Forged, a distasteful treaty with the reclusive Talori that called for her people to spill their blood in a battle they had nothing to do with, on top of the fact that the herd was still recovering from the crippling drought that led them to war in the first place, and bitter neighbors in the vagabonds who had lost family to Serora's appealing dip into slavery.
It was little wonder Ayla had turned her head from her children. They had managed to disappoint at each turn, and Dorje could only hope that Baram would be able to turn Serora from it's apparent road to destruction. A tall order for any equine, let alone one who had barely had time to be granted their new title before being dragged into talks like this. Dorje hoped they were getting enough rest through all this; they had plenty of stress to deal with already without adding tiredness into the mix
Dorje shook her head, attempting to rattle such useless musings out of her head. Sure, they were stuck between a rock and a hard place, but merely bemoaning that fact would do nothing to help solve the problem. She listened to Ithaca and Abram speak, and could not help but agree with them on their some of their points.
"War is on us, whether we like it or not. We can complain about the situation we are in and the deals that were struck until the sun falls out of the sky, but that won't stop Aodh from clapping us all in chains and dragging us out of our home. We need to accept the hand we have been dealt and work out a way to survive this war without completely compromising what it means to be a Seroran!" Without turning to slavery, like LAST time, Dorje thought, snorting in irritation.
"Like it or not, we have a treaty with those Talorians. I doubt anyone is exactly happy with this, but we're in too deep to be able to back out now without consequences. So why don't we get some of them down here to talk with us, and find out what the hell is going on that they are so desperate for help with? If we are going to be dying for them, then I sure as hell want to know the reason why!"
Flicking her tail in irritation, Dorje subsided. Right now, they all needed to be doing instead of talking, but that was politics for you.
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Post: 1 WC: 575
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Post by gutpunch on Nov 6, 2017 0:00:35 GMT -6
QIMAT seroran glass crafter
She had been early.
Instead of mingling with the crowd, she preferred to stand on the edges, intently listening on what her herdmates had to say. Though she didn’t have any blessings, and was now doubtful she ever would be blessed considering Alya’s sudden disappearance, Qimat felt numb. The discussion of treaties, politics, and war, and what it all meant had been swimming in her thoughts for a few nights. Unable to sleep, she had been creating in her studio, trying to focus her mind on anything other than this. It was above her. She was not an advocate, peacemaker, or councilor. She was not well-travelled and only knew things from what she read in books and what her friends and family told her. Qimat didn’t mind that she was simple in that regard, happy to focus only on Serora and her craft.
With her warm, yet light-colored eyes, she watched as first Baram, then Adonis, and finally Embryss gathered before the crowd. She was proud of all of them, proud to even know them on a personal level. Baram had been one of her favorite mullahs when they visited, weaving intricate stories. Through Embryss, arguably her favorite cousin, she was related to Donny. Watching them all grow and inherit important titles filled Qimat with a sense of honor. It did hurt, however, to know that her other friends had formed differing opinions from the new Sultan. She couldn’t bring herself to agree with them, and it pained her heart to know that it wasn’t just her that suffered. Numerous other equines were feeling the same rift in relations. For the first time, it felt like her herd would really dismantle and tear itself apart.
Her own thoughts were doing the same. Quietly, she worshiped Ignacio, second only to Alya. Of course, with her absence, he became the primary god she prayed to. She resented that she needed to pray to him to keep her safe from the fires of her craft and the bright sunlight that could burn and sting. But now, she was also having to pray to him to keep her safe from the impending Aodhian flames. She doubted their patron god would do much for her, though. What was the worship of thousands upon thousands compared to her one voice? Nothing.
The arrival of the Talori had shocked her, too. Their appearance showed her that they were not just an island of pirates and rogues. She disliked many of rogues – some were friendly and at least pleasant towards her – but the newcomers fascinated her. It was frustrating that they wouldn’t share much knowledge of their homeland. Qimat understood why this was suspicious, but something compelled her to trust them.
As everybody spoke, she patiently listened. At first, when Hesper spoke, she nodded and murmured her agreement. The taffy roan’s attitude quickly soured, however. Her hooves began to itch, and her chest tighten with anger as she struggled to hold her tongue. But once the room was silent again, silent as it could be with those whispering among themselves, she began.
First, she looked at Kristofer, then Jack, eyes narrowed and glaring. “If Alya wanted us to survive, she should have given us Ishmael before the treaty with Aodh and Breim was signed! We only broke the treaty because the Oasis was revealed to us. The Windmother is only furious that we’re here, arguing, just as you say! Angry that we are not willingly honoring the treaty signed by Osprey and supported by Baram!” Her voice was confident. Her hooves gently pushed her through the crowd to the forefront. Politics weren’t her specialty, but if she could have numerous family members involved with the game, then surely, she could at least act like she knew what she was talking about. “We are a traditionally peaceful herd, but we must stand for our beliefs: that slavery is wrong. Everyone is equal. The Talori should not have to worry about these so called terrorists, especially after arriving on our desert shores and pleading for refuge. We cannot break another treaty as Abram says. If the Talori are willing to donate thousands, how many more do they have to use against us if need be? Aodh, Talori, and War-Forged would be against us, leaving only Breim. We cannot be known as a herd who consistently breaks treaties out of fear for the unknown! Each herd has its own customs! I agree it is unnerving that we do not know more. We should demand to know more. But I still value compassion more than knowledge, and I believe we should show compassion toward Talori! Aodh required slavery out of the vagabonds we so readily accept, and that I will never be okay with, no matterwhat customs a herd has. Slavery and brands are an entirely different matter. Talori claims to be under attack! This is different than requiring us to send them slaves. I believe our own army is strong enough to help the Talori reclaim their land, and then we can focus on Aodh! It’s shameful that others would disagree we aren’t strong enough to handle whatever is thrown at us. Perhaps that, too, is why Alya has been silent.” She was not as eloquent as her cousin, but she was opinionated and bitter and her whirlwind of thoughts and words proved it.
Qimat inhaled, and let out a sharp sigh. “We will be at war either way. It would be suicide to reject another herd’s help against the rich Aodh and powerful War-Forged. The belief we should be on our own has made Alya leave us, and I blame those who hold that belief.” She finished, pinning her ears against her skull and chewing on the inside of her cheek.
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Post by moonlightwalk on Nov 7, 2017 17:02:11 GMT -6
Midas | Peacemaker to Talori herd
It stood without reason that Midas had been for the treaty and therefore today stood on the side on those who choose to honor it. He held his word as opinions where shared within the room. He did not want to steal their breath before they got the chance to speak after all. And speak they must for it was with words conflict was resolved peacefully. It were words that soothed the soul and took the wind out of rash actions. He understood the concerns, but he also knew that Talorians were secretive by nature. Even they could not sent in allies blind, could they? Patience was off essence and patient was what he wished to be.
When it was his turn to speak, room having quieted down enough to allow such moment, Midas raised his voice, steady, calm, but steadfast. He too had his shards to add in this conversation, as he felt was his task. “My herdmates, If I may ask to listen to me for a moment. We are indeed family and indeed each family has it’s disagreements. I would not hear a word as strong as seperation. Disagreements can be worked out and I invite all to speak. Your concerns are all valid after all. It is normal to worry in face of such things, is it not?” He nodded his head as he posed his own question, letting his eyes slide over the others in the room.
“But would we not consider ourselves a caring herd? Would we not help those we can?” He was still nodding, then he slammed his hoof down with a loud click against the floor, raising his head a little higher. “Then would we not betray our own values if we turned away this herd, the Talorians, in their time of need? A herd that at that we have formed a careful alliance with over the years? To scatter a building friendship like ashes on the wind?” He shook his head, sadly as if tired.
“Life has already forced us to go against our believes once. I hear it said there’s no choice, but we do. There’s always a choice. We have the power to shape Serora’s feature whether to reject and face it alone or accept and build an alliance in both herds’ favor, it’s up to us. And it’s up to the people to speak their voices so the Sultan may make these decissions. May my voice be heard.” He nodded his head at Baram, letting his eyes walk through the room one more time. Confident, he needed to look confident. A slight flicker of hesistation that the Talorians were not perfecr were shoved aside because rationaly he knew there was nothing wrong. That flight had no reason to attack and they attacked all, sparing no child, no elder, no animal, no horse. It was despicable. Both that cause and their own made the alliance more than worth it.
Post 1 | 491 words
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Post by Disastercorn on Nov 8, 2017 14:13:57 GMT -6
T I T O Male | Apprentice (Fury) | Serorian
This was getting so out of hand. Tito recoiled slowly as the room started to be flooded with angry furious words. Even if those words where not spoken loudly, they cut into the young male as if they where directed solely at him. Posture bowed, back arching as he tried to ball himself up into a tiny ball. A ball everyone could forget. Baram had spoken Tito's name across the hall, before all hell had broken loose. This wasn't at all what they needed to be doing. Bickering among themselves as if they themselves where at war. This would not work... Aodh and War-forged. They where mighty, strong herds with numbers to match. Serora... His home. They would all be wiped out if war broke out here before the real war even reached them.
Eyes flickered around the room, so wishing he could move to Embyrss or Adonis's side and just hide behind them. But they stood strong beside Baram. It would be so many levels of wrong and rude to go take refuge behind them. Swallowing down everything the multicolored stallion felt churning in his stomach he slowly lifted his head and closed his eyes. Wings spread a bit, flapping in the confined space to gather a hush, if at all possible.
"If we continue to bicker and snap at each other, a war within the herd will start before the real one even comes to our lands. Baram... We in essence picked you to lead us. You are our voice..." His eyes pleaded for some sort of rhyme or reason to all this. That there was an end in sight to this meeting of confused, angry and upset horses. Where was Ianthe when he needed her most? "What... What are we to do next?"
POST 2 | WORD COUNT 308
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Post by Bootless-Box on Nov 10, 2017 21:11:09 GMT -6
◇ KILORN ◇
warder | stallion | he/him
- Kilorn was torn. He missed Osprey, he enjoyed protecting the Sultan and his family. Now he was uncertain about everything. He wasn't sure what side to believe in, he wasn't sure what he was doing here anymore. Alya had stopped listening, and Osprey left. They both left. Why, when they needed their leaders the most, would they disappear? Ki simply did not understand, he was loyal to his herd. Fiercely so, and even more loyal to his goddess. He almost laughed when someone suggested that Baram or the treaty were reasons Alya would abandon them. Their new sultan may be many things, including inexperienced, but the reason for a goddess to turn her back? Not a chance. At least to Kilorn, they were not their most important problem, or really a problem at all. The treaty was not their fault nor was it a problem, it may be sneaky, and it was with equines who were prejudice against pegasi, but it was not a problem. They want help, Serora needs help. He wanted to question them just as bad as anyone else here, but the talorians were not "on trial". Baram stood before him, not the Talorian king. Aodh was their problem, a problem that Alya had disappeared right before. He could believe the god would be angry with her children for technically inciting a war, but he also believed that she would return, more pissed than ever. At whom he was not sure, and he hoped her wrath would be pointed in the fire herd's path. His mane and tail looked neater than usual and his familiar, the small, useless meerkat was asleep amongst it. It actually appeared as though he "dressed up" for this, which for him included actually brushing his hair and possibly wearing a sash with his saddlebags. But alas, that was not what happened. His useless pet had decided to nest upon his head in the middle of the night and got twigs and all sorts of things lodged in his mane. His only choice after was to wash it all out and brush it. So he was a tad more clean and a lot more irritable. In all honesty he had arrived with the crowd, something else unusual for the tall stallion, he usually arrived early. Today he was uncertain which speech he was attending. He didn't know what side to take, what side he wanted to hear. He did believe they needed this treaty to live, but he also knew this could be the very same thing that caused them to go to war, a break of their morals. He decided to go with his job, to protect and support the sultan. So here he was, in the front of the room, near the sultan but off to himself, next to a wall.
- He listened as several horses spoke. Syria’s words resonated with him, he felt similarly about the situation. More and more horses seemed to be alluding to the idea that Osprey made a mistake. This made him angry. Osprey cared for them all, and only wanted what was best! How could they not see that? Ki was just as upset that Osprey left them to go find Alya, but Alya too had disappeared so was that not practical? To go find and hear out a missing goddess that meant everything to their people? Each sliding comment towards the previous sultan hit him like thorns. Of course he would send Nicodemus out if he was offensive, the Talorians were not known for their kindness nor their patience with outspoken mullahs. Nicodemus could just have easily asked to privately discuss the treaty first or to suggest, politely, that it should be up for debate amongst the serorans. All the mule did, from what Kilorn had heard, was make a tense situation worse.Despite his irritation he stayed still in quiet, eager to listen. He heard his friend Ila speak up, and he agreed with her as well. She was always so optimistic, he could hear inspiration reach the ears of those around him. Ki felt he need not to hear inspiration as he was ready to fight, but he was proud that she did speak up and inspire. He remained silent listening to the voices floating around. It wasn’t until Embyrss spoke again that he felt the urge to speak out, in Osprey’s defense, the irritation arising once more. “The silencing of Nicodemus was shameful – I watched as my friend and Mullah was tossed from the table. Baram did not sign the treaty or make such a decision – they have merely inherited these transgressions. We have a chance right these wrongs and move forward together, but we cannot do so from our graves.” Her little speech made him itch to throw it right back at her, she would insult her own brother-in-law to the masses. His nostrils flared but he missed his chance to speak. A few others piped up, one even calling Embryss brave and inspiring. Bah! If insulting a sultan’s reign was brave even the mule who insulted the talorian king would be brave and mighty. He huffed at the mere thought, he did not know them, but he was angry.
- Abram appeared on the outskirts, mangled and sad looking, but Kilorn was glad Abram decided to attend the gathering. His words were desolate and pointed but honest and Kilorn was finding himself glad he’d spoken. A mare soon spoke up, insulting Alya. How dare she? Have any of these equines any sense of loyalty? He knew he must speak up after that, for he could contain himself no longer. He saw the few courses of action that lay ahead of them. He waited until Tito finished before speaking himself. “If I may?” Not wanting to throw the child’s words to the wind, he acknowledged his words, before continuing on. “I do not believe we should insult the previous Sultan’s decisions, or declare them mistakes before they’ve even come to play,” He said louder, demanding their attention and shooting a look to Embryss, “nor do I believe anyone should speak ill of a goddess, especially our windmother,” and with that he glared down at Qimat, not knowing her name but remembering the face, “Abram is right, it seems as though we have no choice but to continue on with the Treaty. That is not true, Baram can break it if they must, only if you would all like to perish when this war begins. Syria has seen what the Aodhians have, and Embryss knows of the brutishness of the War-Forged. Without any help we are far and few between on our own, even with our knowledge of the land. From what I’ve heard most of you are angry, scared, or apprehensive, but most of you agree that Baram should not break the treaty. Those who do not, well, it may be our only hope at surviving this war,” Kilorn paused breathing in deep and centering his emotions so that they would no longer affect his words as he looked around, “Baram can make any choice they decide, or that we ask of them, but the only one that allows us to have a chance without making more enemies is this treaty. Those of you who want to be compassionate and help but ask questions later, your hearts are in the right place. These too are our morals, where as before, rounding up those we once opened our arms to, had none of our morals. We must prevail, so now we must be loyal, and follow the words of our leader,” at that he turned to Baram, “So what are those words my Sultan?” He finished, and turned his spotlight to Baram by bowing his head to the new Sultan. Ki would say no more, only turn the attention to their leader, to end the shouting of opinions and move forward, towards action.
wc: 1,323 words
post #1
(sorry Ki's an angry boi rn)
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Post by brandvandet on Nov 12, 2017 23:01:51 GMT -6
baram
when the sun lights up your face
don't give me time don't give me space
One by one, the gathered Serorans gave their opinions. Baram listened to each of them in turn, agreeing with some points, disagreeing with others, but staying silent until each of them seemed to have spoken their piece. There had already been too much censorship to this process and they didn’t want to add more--however accidental it would be. They knew eventually they’d have to speak and give their view but they’d listen first. Even with the deed done, signed and promised, they wanted to know the cost of the treaty they were having to keep.
Baram glanced about the room as the space after the last words stretched into a growing silence. They imagined anticipation burgeoning and tried to count the number of faces turned expectantly to them but kept faltering somewhere after twenty. The green pegasus knew they were procrastinating and finally gave the pointless exercise up. It didn’t matter anyway. Everyone here and at the other meeting across the city only wanted one thing--to keep Serora safe. It was just the methods that differed.
They swallowed, trying to force their nervousness down with the acid climbing the back of their throat. “I thank you all for your candidness,” they said, a sentence which came simply and sincerely. Baram tried to match the gaze of each person that had given their thoughts.
“To be entirely honest,” they paused to take a breath and found themself staring at Abram. Baram could not begin to guess if what they were about to say would turn the man’s grief into hate. Still, this was no time for coy words. “I don’t know why we signed this thing in the first place. I’ve heard the reasons you all gave and I respect them, I do. But I don’t believe we have the obligation to die for strangers that seem all too willing to lie to us.”
They took a breath, encouraged by the momentum of their words. “The Talori came to us, hurting, and we housed them, fed them and nurtured them. We are Serorans. We help those that we can. But they still have the audacity to ask for our blood, Seroran blood, your blood and your siblings' blood, to be shed somewhere in a strange land before they offer a whisper of help in return?” Baram was angry, maternal rage sputtering through their words. “And from what I've heard, they asked for this blood to be promised before they told us anything at all of the situation they were in. Honest people, the people we know, do not behave like this.”
“What each of you are asking me to do is to risk Seroran lives on a chance. You are asking me to choose who dies, which of you dies, based on a maybe. Instead of one war, we now have two!” They tried to choke their voice back to a normal volume. “Our greatest asset is our sands, our home, and I can't guess how many I will have to lay to rest so far from them.” Tears brimmed with their frustration.
“Still, the deal has been done and we must stand by it. We can’t risk breaking another treaty and risking another country’s wrath--however compromised they seem at this time.” Baram again found themself glancing at Abram as they echoed his words before abruptly turning back to their own point. “Throughout all of this, our fault has been with us, as a people, when we’ve made these treaties that spit on our morals. We made the first out of desperation and cowardice and I fear we have done so again.”
Baram glanced about the room with finality. “I thank you all again for your honesty. I owed you mine in return.” They hesitated briefly before turning and leaving the assembly.
631 words. third post.
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