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Post by Queerly on Jan 16, 2016 23:27:14 GMT -6
 Though once allies in the God’s War, the perilous north and its inhabitants are a complete enigma to modern day Serorans. Still, there is hope that the mountain horses remember their old friends, and will perhaps be willing to provide aid - just as Serora once did for them. Hoping for this, Osprey has sent a team of diplomats to snowbound Onea.
Event Journal// Located Here
Premise Journal// Located Here
Hello Starborn, and welcome to Plot 005: Mountain's Misgivings! We have so much planned for your little desert-borns, and we hope you enjoy the Chapter as much as we enjoyed making it for you! 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.
- Five posts is the minimum to earn the event AP/CS/FVR rewards. After you've posted five times, you receive 1 AP for every post after!
- Your team is precious. Don't let anyone feel left behind! Try to interact with everyone. <3
- Have fun! Even if your pony isn't. 8'D
Once the team leader has posted, you may begin posting as well!
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Post by Queerly on Jan 17, 2016 16:53:34 GMT -6
Yeshua | Presently Furious CouncilHorse
When he'd been young, or at least much younger than he was now, Yeshua had been fascinated by Onea. Having known nothing more than the vast, endless sky and the rugged desert, his brother's tales of the snowy north had enraptured him. 'They have mountains, as tall as the eye can see.' Abram would say, and Yeshua would hang on every word. 'And in winter the land is covered with a blanket of snow. Untouched, it is cold, quiet and beautiful, unlike anything you have ever seen.'
He had wanted to see it. Oh, but he had wished to accompany Abram on those journeys to the north, where he might experience the ice and mountains with his own hooves and eyes.
Now, leaning against a wind so sharp and cold that it tore heat from the marrow of one's bones, knee-deep in snow so thick its shards were worrying welts against his skin, Yeshua could not help but think fantasy was better than the reality. For this, this was the absolute worst.
"Augh," He groused, voicing his displease in a guttural grunt that was stolen and snuffed by the storm. The conditions were nearing a white-out, and every few moments the Councillor would turn to make certain his party was still together, worried that they might lose each other in the chaos of the blizzard. They were struggling. Valiantly, yes, but struggling nonetheless, and if they did not reach civilization soon, Yeshua feared for their continued well-being.
"Embryss," He called over the howling winds, his numb ears flat against his skull, "I don't suppose you can tell how far we are from town?"
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Post by Dry-oasis on Jan 17, 2016 16:58:39 GMT -6
Checkpoint 1// Your journey has been long and trying. You are desert-born, hardiness in your very blood… but gods, this continent is practically unlivable. You should have arrived in Skeldr Town three days ago, but the snow has hindered your progress, and now you are stuck sludging through the mountains in knee-deep snow. You suspect… hope, that you are only a few hours away from civilization. |
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Post by meetinggemini on Jan 18, 2016 13:25:01 GMT -6
Rayder | Fleet feet
Never before had Ray been so lucky as to even step foot outside of the dry landscapes of Sedo. He'd only dreamed of the world beyond, as he'd read them in his fathers journals. To his knowledge the world was vast, and every corner of it was different from the next. The life of a Vagabond seemed more interesting to him, though he was dedicated to his current position.
Now, he had crossed most of Hireath, from deserts to large plains, massive forests, and now mountains lie in front of him that stretched past the clouds. In all of the world he hadn't known there was so much to see, so much he truly didn't know. Except what they were experiencing now, was something very different.
Many stories had been passed to him about Onea, though he never imagined it like this. The icy wind lashed at you with what felt like no end, the tall trees had slowly disapeared as they made their way up the steep mountian side, and the snow- well the snow was so thick, so cold that you couldn't describe it any further. It was miserable. He couldn't understand why or how the War Forged equine could live in such conditions. He was in turn, rather excited in the begining to leave Sedo, especially with such an honor as to go with such high diplomats. But now, he just wanted to turn around, to go home before his hooves freeze to the mountain side. His breath escaped his lips in thick clouds as he huffed and groaned. Trudging on, he had to keep going strong, they were almost there, they had to be.
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wc:282 || post: 1
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Post by Jennycallie on Jan 19, 2016 4:09:14 GMT -6
Abram | Bondmate
I am never going to hear the end of this.
This gloomy thought flitted across Abram’s mind as he plodded side by side with Yeshua. A cold, tired, irritated looking Yeshua. I talk you up for years, mountain, and this is what you greet me with upon my return? They’ll never believe a word I say again.
Abram shrugged his cloak higher up his withers, only to have his next labored stride pull the cloak right back down and with it, a trickle of half-melted snow. He would have pinned his ears, if they hadn’t already been plastered to his skull to avoid the wind. Or he thought they were- truth be told they’d gone numb some time ago and for all he knew they were torn off and blown half-way back to Sedo.
Ahh, Sedo, with its sun-warmed sands, the stones that just radiated heat, so soothing on the body-
Abram gave his head a sharp shake, breath misting out before him in one puff before the wind snatched it away. Don’t think like that, he scolded himself. Best to think of it the other way- days that were so hot the sweat ran down his withers in trickles, summers where water was strictly rationed, where the sun burned in to the eyes so fiercely that-
A sudden gust of snow slapped Abram in the face, stinging crystals sticking to already frozen hair.
A sun so hot that it burned his retinas still sounded preferable to this. Blast it.
Next to him, Yeshua grunted, then abruptly turned and called out behind them, to Embryss. Abram heard the strain in his twin’s voice, the unspoken worry that had been sinking steadily deeper in to their minds as this day wore on. They might well be in trouble, soon. Abram turned as well, waiting for Embryss’ reply.
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Post by Kytte on Jan 22, 2016 4:17:48 GMT -6
Embryss | Ambassador to War-Forged
Embryss had visited the mountain homelands of Onea quite a few times in the past months. It was delightfully pleasant during the summer months when she had last set foot – the crisp snow revealing fresh mountain grasses and wild bloom and cascading waterfalls where the mountain ice had melted.
This was not one of those times.
Wind and ice is a bitter hand that cares little for guidance and more for mischief and disarray. Some saw it as Alya’s wrath, and perhaps in this particular moment in time it were true. However, to Embryss, it was a test (not the most ideal one at that…) for the desert-blessed Serorans. Amongst the screaming winds where no one could hear or see her, Embryss uttered under her breath, nervously “Alya, guide us to Onea…” The winds continued to howl and nip at their heels and hides like frost-wolves. Unbeknownst to the herd – there was something greater going on than simple prayers to gods and the stars. This was bigger.
”I don’t suppose you can tell us how far we are from town?”
She could just see the form of Yeshua – clearly not enjoying the current weathers display. She slowly stepped closer, dredging through the snow and shouted ”This weather has made things….difficult!" She strained her eyes, desperately trying to find a landmark, a path, a ridge…something! The vague form of Mt Skeldr lay directly ahead of them, towering above the party. ”I can see Mt Skeldr….just…..due north of us…..I think…..” Everything else was whitewash. ”I think if we keep trudging North-east…we should reach a landmark, maybe a ridge or rock to shelter us from this storm – I can make my bearings a whole lot better then.”
Embryss turned to the rest of the party, Rayder and Abram clearly not enjoying themselves either. They had to get out of here – this was her job, she knew this land. Oh how a blessing would be fantastic right about now… she thought to herself. Was storm vision even a thing? Controlling weather?
One thing was for sure - if they waited around much longer, they would be in far greater danger.
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Post by Queerly on Jan 23, 2016 0:15:43 GMT -6
I can see Mt Skelder, Embyrss had said, and though the words were shouted the wind devoured them, smothered them, tried to steal them away before they could ever reach the Councillor's ears. The stallion swung his head north-east and squinted in the mountain's direction, realizing he too could make it out, if barely.
Mt. Skeldr. Another fabled landmark that his brother (his poor, misguided brother) had sung praises unto. Abram's fanciful descriptions of sloping peaks and twisting pathways had kept Yeshua awake at night, dreaming wide-awake for a world beyond the desert. Now, with his body chest-deep in snow and the mountain looming like a vulture on the horizon, Yeshua considered the possibility that Abram's 'fall' had caused more damage than initially believed. Specifically: to his memory and sense.
"Shelter would be wise." He agreed. Golden eyes flashed to the forms of Rayder and Abram as he raised his voice and prayed that Alya would let him be heard. "Fellows! Our aim now is to seek shelter. Keep your eyes peeled-" He paused as a shard of ice ripped across his muzzle, slicing a fresh cut into pristine white. "- ash on the winds! Look for shelter!" He finished tersely, and he could swear, swear that he saw the blood freeze just as soon as it had begun to pool.
Numbed ears pinned to his crown, the Councillor turned and leaned into the storm, dutifully trudging onwards. He refused to voice the worry that permeated their minds, did not dare acknowledge the possibility od death. They would not perish here. They could not.
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Post by Jennycallie on Jan 24, 2016 21:05:22 GMT -6
Abram | Bondmate
His vision may have been compromised, eyelashes crusted with crystals that created a prism with the meager light coming in with each labored blink. The wind may have been screaming past his ears, a dull roar ratcheting at times in to near oblivion. His reflexes were slowed, his blood sluggish and chilled, rendering each step, each movement a study in determination.
But there was nothing, nothing in this world that could dampen Abram's connection to the only person whose heart beat in time to his own, a shared song that horse nor beast nor gods could interfere with.
And so even through a numbing, roaring, shifting veil of madness, Abram's snow-crusted eyes focused on and tracked with perfect clarity the sudden splash of red on the wind as Yeshua's face was wounded. It was not a serious injury; indeed the cold congealed the blood quickly, and no doubt numbed the pain. But that did not matter. The mountain, his mountain, which had sheltered him for years, loomed in wistful dreams, had just gone too far. He was now mad and ashes on this frigid ass wind if he was dying here tonight. They were Alya's chosen; the burning heat of the desert wind flowed through their veins and by Her glory they would show this mountain what it meant to be Seroran!
"The wind rises and we rise with it!" Abram shouted, surging forward in the snow drifts with renewed determination and vigor. "If this is all that Kaia's mountain can throw at us, I think we're going to be just fine!"
Which was the perfect time for the wind to die down, and let the not-so-distant cries of hunting wolves float down upon their ears along with the snow.
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Post by Queerly on Jan 24, 2016 21:20:33 GMT -6
Yeshua @ Abram:  |
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Post by Kytte on Jan 25, 2016 3:52:06 GMT -6
[Ill let Rayder post before I continue.
Dat gif omg.
Also Embryss legs be Forum posterchild lol Daaayyyum.]
[Queerly: Okay but homegirl has some damn fine legs]
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Post by meetinggemini on Jan 27, 2016 22:05:33 GMT -6
Rayder | Fleet Feet
All the training in the world could not have prepared him for these moments. Nothing could be worse than this, though there was always something else lurking out there. Desperatly wanting to seek shelter as ordered, Ray started to look around for any place large enough for all of them. It seemed as nothing offered comfort at this moment.
Hearing the faint words of the diplomats conversations through the whistling winds, he pushed onward. Continuing to stay strong, knowing they'd reach their destination soon, right? They had to be making some sort of progress.
The noises in the distance seemed to be nothing more than a trick, an illusion of the wind playing games on his mind. These desperate hours were just short of many shallow thoughts. The idea of being lost here, dying in this hell of a world. Instead he dreamed of the sun warmed sands of home.
"How much longer do you propose we continue this endlessness?" He asked anyone with a bold enough answer, letting the dying winds swallow his words.
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words: 181 post: 2
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Post by Kytte on Jan 31, 2016 3:41:23 GMT -6
Embryss | Ambassador to War-Forged
"If this is all that Kaia's mountain can throw at us, I think we're going to be just fine!"
The winds died down in an ironic display after hours upon hours of bitter chill. However, with it, far greater problems became fully audible. Terror for but a moment rattled through Embryss’s body and she turned to gaze at Yeshua. They knew where they were, they had bit more visibility, but now wolves were on their trail. “What do you make of that….Yeshua?”
At her utmost best, she tried to stay stoic – lest she falter to panic and throw the band in disarray.
A moment of calm and she thought to herself – out of all of them, she knew these mountains more than most, but with the added threat of wolves…suddenly icy winds faltered in severity.
“I…I know these mountains fairly well…there are many trails and caves where we could throw them…but they could be snowed in. There’s a chance the wolves may be tracking another….but right now we are the exposed ducks on the mountain…”
Embryss looked to the rest of the party – Abram and Rayder, whatever the case, they had to move, and fast.
“I know of a trail north-west. It is slippery footing – it could be quite iced over. But it’s a tunnel that leads straight to the city…Its just…dangerous. It flanks a cliff.”
In the summer, the tunnel was used to avoid the waterfalls from the melting glaciers. In the winter….a fools errand. But so were hunting wolves, and four desertborn serorans in a snowstorm.
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Post by Queerly on Feb 5, 2016 3:12:22 GMT -6
The first time he'd heard the sound of hunting coyotes, Yeshua had been eight months old. The noise had startled him awake. Bleary-eyed and confused, he had plucked himself from the comfortable spot against Abram's ribs and stumbled to the mouth of their father's hut. Alya's moons had been full, pregnant with light, and the desert had glowed beneath their reflection. The racket was growing, becoming louder, becoming closer. To his young ears, it had sounded like the screams of some mythic beast, come to gobble the band of nomads in their sleep.
And then it had happened: a desert hare had erupted from the brush, the pack of coyotes following in hot pursuit. Their cries had been euphoric, the saliva rolling from their mouths in thick, cloudy globs and then-
They had caught it, and the hare had screamed.
Nostrils flared, Yeshua gave his head a sharp shake. He couldn't afford to lose himself to memories of teeth and the moonlit smear of entrails. His companions, his brother, would not become an unlucky hare. Not while Alya still beat in his heart, and his hooves could still strike. With a snort, he turned his back upon the distant howls and regarded his team. "The wind rises to the occasion, Rayder- now more than ever." Golden eyes shifted to the Ambassador next. "The pass may very well be risky, but our choices are limited. My sister, this is your domain, and to you I entrust our lives. Lead, and Rayder and I will bring up the rear. Whatever comes crawling after us will have our hooves to contend with. And Abram-"
His eyes flicked to his twin, consternation and anxiety swirling beneath a furrowed brow. "Do try not to further tempt the lord of this mountain!"
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Post by Jennycallie on Feb 6, 2016 22:44:20 GMT -6
Abram | Bondmate who regrets opening his mouth
Abram did not share his twin's fear of canines- or at least, he didn't share it in the light of day. In Serora. With visibility and favorable weather conditions and known terrain. Seeing as how they had none of those aspects, Abram felt his own stomach clench as howls again floated on the air. Closer? Farther? More numerous? He couldn't tell. At the edge of the cries, Abram could almost hear voices- further proof that the winds and snows of this slope were playing treacherous tricks on them.
He thought for a moment that he should be insulted at being shoved in to the middle of the herd like a foal- he had been an Ambassador to this herd once, after all!- but then fresh howls split the screaming wind and Abram promptly shut his mouth, leaping instead in to motion. Slow going, slogging through the snow and against the wind, but with Alya's strength everything was possible. Some wings would have been nice but- uncharitable thoughts. He discarded them.
"If we can't get through the pass-" he gasped, lungs burning, "then we need to get to at least a defensible position. We can't-" he choked on a blast of snow, "we can't get caught an exposed outcropping!" If the wolves didn't finish them, the exposure would.
Again, as Abram listened to howls- they did sound closer, didn't they- he could have sworn he also caught the edge of voices.
Alya, don't let me lose my sanity.
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Post by Dry-oasis on Feb 10, 2016 11:55:50 GMT -6
Checkpoint 2// Just as your party began to rally hope, the sound of distant wolves caresses your ears. While trying to make a game plan of how to escape them, (volunteer) is attacked by surprise by a hiding wolf. And... is that the sound of other horses?!
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Post by Queerly on Feb 15, 2016 18:17:04 GMT -6
They'd scarcely the time to begin their plan before the wolves were upon them.
Yeshua watched as one such beast quite literally materialized from nothing, a silver streak of teeth and fur that barreled through the snow like an arrow, colliding with the Ambassador's flank. It snarled, deep and low in its throat as it clung to her pelt and snapped its great drooling maw. Yeshua froze, and then he charged, head bowed to strike the animal in the ribs. It was thrown careening through the air, and landed upon its feet - no worse for wear, somehow. Yeshua's wings unfurled, one shielding Embryss from view and the other obscuring Abram. The hope was that it would collect the focus upon himself, drawing all of the animal's wild ire. Indeed, her red eyes locked on target, and her form shivered magically as she renewed her attack.
"Not a wolf." Yeshua choked as he raised upon his hind legs, boxing at the animal's maw. It snapped and snarled and yelped, but it did not relent, waiting for the moment when the Councillor slipped and it could clamp its jaws upon his fetlock. The stallion bellowed, jerking, tendons torn- "Gytrash!"
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Post by tarriedsea on Feb 16, 2016 12:29:23 GMT -6
Fox | Scout | War-Forged
Oh no, more voices.
Her mind was snapping in every direction, the two cultists demanding her full concentration. But one ear flick and she swore she heard more talk on the wind. She almost laughed at how ridiculous it all was. Voices in every direction, from friends and foes, allies and villains. Bloodletting and and blood-bonds. It was all too much. And where the hell is Muiris?! She landed a kick to one Cultist's forehead while his attention was on Kell. His body fell to the snow with a thump. Was he dead? Didn't matter. There was no time to assess. She was blind, in a daze. Her body buzzed with electricity. This is what they mean when they speak of bloodlust. She was no fighter & no Valkyrie, but by god she would try. She would live. Her parents would not end this night with two dead children. The remaining cultist paused for a flash, as he was outnumbered. He grinned, teeth flashing in the moonlight, and spun around, galloping into the woods. He'd be back, Fox knew. He was getting the others. The mares had to move fast. She turned to look over her shoulder, screaming into the dark woods as another gust of wind blew into her dace. "Muiris!" She then turned to Kell, panting and shivering. " Isn't this a shitshow?" she released a nervous laugh. "We have to go. I heard others. Down the mountain." She shook snow off her grizzly pelt, but it did little to evade the cold. Her legs were numb. She noticed blood on the snow beneath her feet and briefly wondered if it was her own. She lurched forward down the dark snowy slope, praying Kell was behind her. Momentum shoved her from behind like a strong hand. She never felt so scared in her life, but at the same time she never felt so alive. She'd touched death with a gentle foot and defied it, for now at least. In her next breath, she smelled Gytrash on the wind. Perfect.Prayer had escaped her for so long but now she found herself speaking softly. Kaia, save us. |
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Post by Jennycallie on Feb 17, 2016 16:59:41 GMT -6
Nothing but the pounding of hooves, the gasping of breath, the bite of snow. And then-
Silence.
A sudden stillness suffused Fox's soul, a dampening quiet that swept through her mind, slowed the frantic rabbiting of her heart, the very blood pumping through her veins. A blanket of calm, unmovable placidity settled across the young Scout, and time lost all meaning, stretching infinitely between heart beats, launching them into the void, the universe, into-
My child.
The voice settled gently across Fox's mind, redolent with the flavor of sun-drenched soil, entrenched with the solidity of eons-aged rock, laced with the delicacy of flowers unfurling in the sun.
You do not need me to save you; you are of me, of the earth. I am with you already; your seeds need merely to take root, to bloom.
Even as the words whispered across Fox's conscious, the young mare felt a tingling, a shift in the snow-crusted earth beneath her hooves. Warmth flooded the Scout's senses as a connection between her and the earth below was suddenly eased, suddenly made clear; a connection she realized she'd always possessed, but had never acknowledged, never tapped. Until now.
Take my blessing, earth daughter, and save yourself, rid my land of these intruders who seek to defile it, who dare to attack you who are of me!
The last words were, not a shout, no, but they shook, resonated within Fox's soul like a gong. And even as the words faded, the connection between earth and hooves remained. Fox was now blessed with the ability to read the language of the earth itself:
Tremor Sense.
Time resumed.
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Post by thepaisley on Feb 17, 2016 22:40:31 GMT -6
The cultists had drawn more blood. Kell found her reflexes dulled; she was not able to block and dodge as quickly as she should have been able to, and she knew that if she could not strike a crucial blow soon then they would overpower her.
Launching herself clumsily into the air, she wasted no time hurling herself at the nearest cultist. Teeth and claws bared, the scout slammed into him with a heavy oomph that made her head spin. He gave a yelp, shuddering underneath her, and it took her a moment to figure out why - her claw had torn open his skin, punched a hole in his belly that began leaking blood as she watched.
He appeared to have been galvanized into a rabid fury, twisting around and snapping wildly at whatever part of her he could reach. She was thrown off by his rapid shift of balance, and used her wings to stabilize herself. One of her wings - not the one that was trapped, thankfully - clipped him hard on the jaw, snapping his head back, and Kell used the distraction to try and extricate her claw from his flank. Her efforts were in vain; it was buried too deeply for her to remove, and she worried if she tried she might sprain or otherwise damage it. How would she be able to get herself out of this?
Fox spared the need for any such questions. The petite chestnut mare gave the cultist a kick between the eyes that sent him to the ground, and Kell was left momentarily speechless. She hadn't believed the younger mare capable of such power; and looking at her face, the grey mare wasn't sure that Fox had either. Kell wondered if she should re-evaluate her opinion of the mare.
Finally able to yank her claw free with relatively little pain, she flexed it before trotting back to Fox, turning to the other stallion. Who... was no longer there. He must have left? she wondered, unable to come up with any other explanation for his disappearance. It was something she could deal with later.
"Yes," she replied, trying to catch her breath. Shitstorm indeed. Epic proportions. And she had a feeling it would only get worse.
Oh, yes, it did. She heard the howls of wolves, and the screams of horses, and Fox yelled gytrash, and where the hell was Muiris, and before she knew it she was galloping down the slick icy slope at full speed towards the horses who had cried out. Guess I'm helping, she thought with an internal sigh.
Before she could get there, there was a fundamental shift in the world. Kell was unable to explain it; everything looked the same, felt the same, but something was different. Slipping and scrambling down the hill, she gracelessly slowed to a stop and gave Fox a confused glance.
"Did you feel that?"
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Post by Deleted on Feb 17, 2016 23:24:49 GMT -6
Muiris
- War-Forged Raider -
The stallion's ears pricked at the sound of a familiar voice carried on the brisk winter wind- probably the little scout mare shouting his name.. or that was what he had thought it was. His blood still boiled beneath his skin, his breath in sharp gasps and snorts despite him having slowed down a few paces back. Cat-like reflexes whipped his head to the side, his eyes training on movement in the distance.. one of the cultists.. running.. It took every ounce of power in the roaned stallion's mind to keep his muscles from bunching and chasing down the offender.. it was as if he were trying to fight something as natural as breathing. He had seen blood, tasted it, felt the exhilaration of the kill, and now he wanted more; but a small bit of his mind reminded him that the two mares he had been travelling with needed his help, and Fox had told him to follow. With an angry snarl, the stallion snapped his teeth in the direction of the fleeting figure, his breath swirling around his muzzle and knitted brow. Later. For now, he had to find his team.
It didnt take long for him to come up on a scuffle in the snow.. or at least, sign of one. He could see blood painting the scuff marks in the disturbed snow beneath his hooves. He dipped his head down, giving the red droplets a small sniff, his nostrils twitching as the sweet metalic scent made him smile. Still fresh. They shouldnt be far off now. He started to take his first steps forward in continuing his search when he suddenly did a double take- was that a.. body in the snow? Curiousity peaked the stallion's interest and he shuffled toward it, recognition washing over him as he loomed over the cooling figure. This was defiantly one of the cultists.. He glanced at the pooling blood from the bastards head and side, the stallion's lips twitching with a proud smile. Maybe he had underestimated those two.
A sudden shout caught his attention, causing him to whip around and throw himself toward the edge of a sloping hill. The wind caught his hair, his hooves digging into the icy earth as he peered down the hill. Immediately he saw the two mares, both making their way down the icy slope, but as his eyes traveled down further, he caught sight of another group. Could those be the Serorans? Either way, they needed help. And quickly.
"Fox! Kell!" He shouted against the wind, his muscles bunching before he launched down the hill after them. He was grateful for his horseshoes, their spikes digging in past the ice and offering him traction he otherwise wouldnt have had. It didnt take him long to catch up to the mares, nearly running into Kell in the process. Completely oblivious, rage spiked through his eyes once more. "Dont stop!" He barked, his ears flattening against his neck. He could now smell the scent of Gytrash in the air, hear its snarls on the wind. Oh boy, theyd better hurry.
Word Count: 517 | Post #7 |
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Post by Jennycallie on Feb 18, 2016 5:03:49 GMT -6
Abram | Serora Bondmate, former Ambasador, current frozen popsicle
It wasn't that he was unaccustomed to adversity from the elements, Abram mused in one of those idle, detached sort of ways that didn't seem to align with the pace of the events unfolding. Indeed, Sedo was hardly a paradise for the soft and faint of heart; sand storms, drought, heat that hazed mirages during the day and plummeted to freezing at night- no, not for the soft. Thus it was that the stallion had relative experience with keeping his bearings in low-visibility, high stress situations, and it was perhaps for that reason alone that he only just managed to track the sudden emergence of a wolf as it attacked Embryss.
Abram shifted immediately to defend her, but then-
THWACK
One of Yeshua's distinctive wings unfurled and slapped him. In the face. Showering him with snow. More snow. But he was too frightened to be mad; that would come later. If there was a later.
"How could it not be a wolf?" Abram shouted at his twin, heart flinging itself in to his throat as Yeshua engaged with the- the-
Oh, no. Oh no, no no. Wolves meant a fight for survival, but Gytrash... they meant Cultists.
"YESHUA!" Abram screamed, the word torn from his lips at the same moment the creature's jaws sank in to his twin's leg. Involuntarily, Yeshua was turning, pivoting, and as he did so the dubious screen of his wings lifted, whistled through the air. And even as Abram was moving to help him (as if he could help Yeshua, as if the fact that Yeshua, mighty Yeshua needed help didn't spell out exactly how serious the situation was, how unlikely their chances of survival were-), he saw a... a shifting, a swirling shadow up the slopes behind Yeshua and Rayder.
Knowing that in the unlikely event the story of his death was told, that the War Forged were likely to tell it as a sort of cautionary tale about the fragility of foreigners and the inept, Abram none the less let loose a bellow of rage (or it would have been a bellow, had not the ice and terror robbed his lungs of breath) and he surged forwards, protecting the group's back from the oncoming threat.
Abram, of course, had no idea that the "threat" was an angry Kell, a battle-lust locked Muiris, and a god-imbued Fox. No, he simply feared the owner of the Gytrash, and thus hurled himself at them with all the remaining strength his much abused Seroran body had left to offer, leaping right in to their path. They wouldn't have Embryss or any other mare, not on his watch, by the wind.
"Your ash on the wind!" Abram screamed at the War Forged he thought were Cultists. "Serora does not give up it's mares or blood so easily!"
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Post by tarriedsea on Feb 18, 2016 7:50:26 GMT -6
She stumbled.
Her world warped in front of her, her sight went blind, and then suddenly she was on her knees in the snow. Eyes dilated, breathing heavily. Vision returned slowly. Her chest burned.
A dream. A coma.
A memory inserted into time, in between the seconds. It took years and milliseconds at once.
Heartbeats away. Close as breath, far as the stars.
Stunned, her legs were paralyzed to the snow. Cold was no longer a feeling she could identify. Every hair stood on end. Warm electric pulses in her chest, soothing silk words in her brain.
Her first prayer in years- years!- and Kaia spoke, came to her.
Kaia was with them.
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Her feet sank into the earth, and suddenly she no longer envied the shod feet of raiders and shields. She was free to feel. Her hooves were born of the dirt stuff, her hide of the moss lingering on damp trees. Rock solid terrain stretched under her for miles, and she felt it, the tight compressed layers of strata and clay.
She felt the lightfooted steps of the horses in front, the strangers she was running to.
And she felt the heavy hoofbeats of enemies thundering down the slope, in the darkness not so far away.
"Yes, Kell," she spoke softly. "I felt that."
She stood again, trembling like a wet newborn. In a way she was.
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Post by meetinggemini on Feb 19, 2016 18:46:28 GMT -6
Rayder | Fleet Feet
Before his eyes the battle ensued, no warning other than their howling on the wind. For a monet he had froze, though he'd already frozen meer hours ago truthfully. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he watched, breaking from the trance and joining in to help. They were no different from the coyotes he'd once fought back in the sand covered hills of Sedo. Or at least he thought. The mountain had already taken so much from them, but he refused to die in such a way. To be taken so easily by an enemy he thought he could defeat.
As Yeshua took form defending those behind them, he waited for that perfect moment. The single second Ray knew he could take down the beast was upon him, though it came quickly he had little time to prepare. As Yeshua drew its attention he steadied himself, and as it attacked, so did he. The Gyrtash tore at Yeshua's leg as Ray Charaged straight through its side tossing it into the harsh snow, hoping to break any bone he'd come in contact with. Though his efforts were little as he watched it regain its strength and pick itself back up from the snow.
"Damn it..." He mumbled under his breath as it came out in a cloud of icy air that was carried away with the winds. "Alya please help us now.." He said a bit louder as Ray watched the creature turn its attention towards its attacker. Glancing between the beast and the fellow diplomats he'd came with, with the sudden decision, he turned and trudged a few yards away from them, hoping to lead it away. As the ploy worked, he found out quickly he was too slow in this wastland.
It leaped for his hindquarts, and as he felt the claws rake down his hide he let out a cry. The warm blood soaking through his coat and freezing soon after, it stung but went quickly numb. The moment had felt like slow motion. He knew it was coming but it seemed inevitable. The beast hung on and he watched as crimson stained the snow once more. He bucked and trashed, trying to throw it from his body. Hearing in the distance their new visters were soon to be upon them, he had to act quickly, or just outsmart this creature before it was too late. Picking himself up he reared, letting himself fall back onto the beast, smashing back into the snow.
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Post: 4 Word count: 416
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Post by thepaisley on Feb 19, 2016 20:35:39 GMT -6
Fox appeared to have... something going on with her. Kell wasn't entirely sure what. The other mare was quivering, and seemed to be at a loss for words. Perhaps it was the realization that she'd probably just killed someone getting to her? Maybe. Kell didn't claim to be a mind reader. She decided it would be best to let the other mare be.
She thought she heard her name, but dared not turn her head to check in case she might trip. Bad idea, as it turned out. Muiris's muzzle grazed her hindquarters, and she felt him one step away from ramming into her. "Hey! Get your horny nose outta my ass!" she shouted, laying her ears back and letting out a warning squeal. But that was relatively trivial compared to the trouble that was the gytrash (there was only one, right? Please let there only be one) ahead.
She cocked her head to the side suddenly, squinting at a greyish flash. Was the flash blurry because of the snow, or was it running? Towards her or away fr - okay, towards. What did he want?
The greying scout couldn't resist rolling her eyes as she heard his words. Serorans. They wouldn't know a War Forged if it kicked them in the face. She was inclined to do just that, but remembered that these were probably the delegates, and a hoof to the head wouldn't exactly be the best way to start off a round of negotiations. "Shut up, birdbrain!" she yelled back. "We're on the same side!" Swerving to avoid him, she bulldozed through the snow towards the gytrash and the pegasus behind the grey idiot. That gytrash was to be her next target. Lowering her head, Kell forced all thoughts of sharp claws out of her mind and charged.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 20, 2016 1:59:35 GMT -6
Muiris - War-Forged Raider -
Muiris regathered himself from nearly crashing into Kell, opening his mouth to respond to her brash comment, but was quickly interrupted by the screaming nonsense of what he assumed was a Seroran.. he sure sounded like one, anyways. A growl emitted from the large stallion's throat as the Seroran suddenly charged at them, his head dipping down as he was ready to direct all his anger at the confused soul. Luckily for Abram, Kell's insult had shook Muiris loose, and the second Gytrash attack drew his attention away. He froze, his eyes flicking to the side at the sight of quick movement off in the distance. He watched as a roaned stallion flipped over, falling back into the blood-mottled snow with a Gytrash clinging to his hide. But off to the side, there was another set of gleaming eyes. Muiris found himself lost in the creatures gaze for a moment, unable to move a single muscle. Despite the panic and commotion, the predator seemed.. so calm. He watched as it started to inch forward, creeping up behind an already occupied pegasus.
Something snapped in the roaned stallion's mind, kicking him into over drive as he flung himself past the shouting Abram and charging Kell, his sharp hooves digging into the cold earth with as much power as he could muster. The Gytrash gracefully lept into the air, almost as if it were flying, claws extended to attack the unexpecting pegasus. "Watch out!" Muiris shouted, launching himself at the whispy beast, teeth snapping as he tried to intercept it. Much to his surprise, his teeth dug into the canine's neck before they both tumbled into the snow, the Gytrash flailing and trying to claw its way away from his attacker. Sharp claws dug into Muiris' face, raking through his skin and tearing at his muzzle. Warm blood started to pool, trickling from the fresh wounds and dripping down his neck. Burning pain shot through every nerve up his face, but addrenaline refused to allow him to stop fighting.
With a rage-filled shout, probably of pure nonsense, the stallion threw himself to his hooves and flung the predator over his shoulder, his ear twitching at the satisfying thump! its' body made as it fell back to the snow-backed earth. His eyes laid unwavering on its body, tuffs of fur blowing in the wind, but otherwise no movement coming from the creature. Muiris snorted in approval, blood spraying on his breath and speckling the snow at his hooves. In order to avoid any little tricks the Gytrash could be playing, he trotted up to its body and slammed a spiked horseshoe into it's skull. If it hadnt been dead before, it sure was now.
Blood still streamed from his face, but a smile was on his lips as he turned back to look at the pegasus.
Word Count: 473 | Post #8 |
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Post by tarriedsea on Feb 20, 2016 8:01:18 GMT -6
Fox's bones ached with fury. The bloodshed quickly snapped her back to reality. Kell was looking at her funny- she knew something was up. But Muiris was back (thank GOD) and gytrash were ambushing and these strangers were ready to attack the war-forged. She would disclose her revelation later- now there was no time.
From their scent she could tell the strangers weren't from here, and from their sun-bleached hides she knew they were Seroran. At least one thing this night went right- they found the delegates, albeit accidentally. No matter. They would win.
With a bellow that surprised even her, she screamed.
"Kaia is with us! Let's rid her earth of these murderers!"
She cried it to her team, to the serorans, to the gytrash, and to the cultists she felt galloping down the mountainside their way. Every cell in her body screamed, awake and ready to pounce. The earth was on their side. Her breast swelled with pride.
No warrior, little Fox was. But she was no loser either.
She galloped into the heart of the battle, briefly considering that she was an idiot for being so bold, but the grip of gytrash teeth on her flank sent her reeling. She kicked, bucked, fell, and rolled in the snow. It was clumsy and unchoreographed, but it worked. The creature lay half-dead and bleeding. She pushed away her conscience that whispered how she just snuffed the life out of something. She had never been the bringer of death before.
For a second she surveyed the foreigners. A handsome stallion had cried to them, defensive and scared. But now they understood, surely, that they were on the same team. Muiris and Kell were locked in battle with the parasitic wolves. The foreigners were too, but were suffering. Wait, was that...
More bat wings. Fuck she snorted, amused. Kaia must be laughing at me.
Suddenly, underfoot, the thundering of hoofbeats grew to a deafening quake. Fox cried out again.
"Cultists! They're-"
Before she could finish, the woods exploded with a dozen cultists, driving straight to the group.
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Post by Queerly on Feb 24, 2016 9:23:12 GMT -6
Yeshua liked to think that he wasn't easily flustered. Certainly he'd lived long enough to experience personal tragedies, and his seat on the Council brought less prestige and more stress than average equine assumed. It wasn't glamorous, his job. It was difficult, it was demanding, and it always had something new to blindside him with. Such was the fate of a politician whose herd relied on the scorched plains of Sedo for sustenance and was willing to let literally anyone cross her borders. Thus - not easily flustered. Yeshua prided himself in his ability to keep composure.
That said, he was absolutely on the verge of losing his shit.
It just seemed that everything had happened at once. He'd been fine when it had just been the snow. He'd been concerned, yes, about the certain death aspect - but he'd been in no danger of losing his cool, of keeping it all together. Serorans didn't lose their heads in a hostile environment, or at least not the ones who lived to a ripe old age. But then the wolves had come. Yeshua hated dogs. Hated them. And then they'd discovered it wasn't wolves at all, but gytrash. Cultist-loving, fog-becoming, eye-glowing and teeth-having gytrash.
'Well,' he had thought, his inner monologue strangely, curiously detached as the animal sawed through his tendon, 'it can't get worst, at the very least.' Like his twin, Yeshua had a habit of tempting fate. A bad habit, for the gods rarely ignored a challenge.
And so of course it had gotten worse.
Very suddenly, in fact. In the time it took Rayder to relieve him of his gytrash troubles, newcomers had erupted from the white-out and Abram - squishy, cushy-lifestyle Abram- had seen fit to start a yelling match with them. More gytrash had appeared- Rayder was rolling in the snow with the first one- a giant mountain of a horse was engaged with another- a mare was screaming they were on the same side, and thank the gods for that- a sorrel had joined the party with a rallying cry, and from the trees the cultists came like a swarm of hornets -
In the midst of all of it, Yeshua stood still as stone, staring without seeing, even as gytrash blood arched through the howling wind and struck his face in a violent splatter. It was an effort not to descend into panic, a goddamned struggle to keep the seams of his Self from crumbling. There was so much pressure inside him, the steam whistling at the fissures of his composure. He was going to fly apart, he felt it, felt it down to his bones and-
He couldn't move. He was terrified.
His mother, Edna, was a Screamer. Screamers, or 'Fleet Feet', were the Serora herd's light-bodied warriors. They patrolled, ran messages, dealt with scuffles... mundane things like that usually, but sometimes they fought. Predators were the most common foe. A handful of dingoes, a pack of coyotes, maybe even the odd puma. Fighting other horses was a rare occurrence. Yeshua could only remember one such incident.
He'd been young. His family was somewhere in the northern Zuisuset, traveling in a nomad band. The sun was setting, the desert growing cool - and that had been when they struck. Vagabonds, either cultists, thieves or something else. It didn't matter, and none bothered to ask in the midst of chaos. Yeshua could recall looking up when the yelling started, watching his mother streak across the sands to throw herself at a stallion he didn't know. She'd been a golden arrow, flying straight and true.
Later, when the band was safe and his mother was recovering from hard-won victory, he had asked her a question. Were you really not afraid at all?
She had looked at him with eyes like molten gold. I was very afraid. But I was more scared of losing you and Abram than I was of him.
In the present, Yeshua blinked. The world swam into hazy focus. A cultist was nearby, but her interest was pinned on his brother, teeth bared for his dappled hide. Terrified, screaming a cry of war, Yeshua launched himself upon her, intercepted her course, and together they went tumbling through the sanguine snow.
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Post by meetinggemini on Feb 24, 2016 22:57:31 GMT -6
Rayder | Fleet Feet
Running off of adrenaline and shear will power was all that was left now. The snow was sticking to his body as he crashed back into the ground. Making the gashes in his hide burn and sting at the the slightest of movements. Though the body below his was more concerning in the moment. Forcing himself back to his hooves, he stared back down at the disformed and twisted bones of the gytrash, its blood and his staining the snow.
Turning his head away at the sight, the screams of those in the direction he'd came from was his next concern. Those not far off in the distance would soon meet them, but the gytrash's gaining numbers could mean their end if their new friend or foe took to long. Trudging back through the thick snow towards his company, he was met with a sickening thought, as he watched beasts lunge for his companions. The idea of never seeing what he called home again could become a reality. To fail here though, to die in this wasteland, that didn't seem like an option to any of them.
He wanted to desperatly shout out to them though the whistling winds caught hold of his words as the cultists sprung forward. They were caught like a mouse in the jaws of a rattle snake. By god now was he hoping those aproaching from the distance were here to help. Knowing of they werent it could all be over. Never before did he think to fight off another equine. Had it only ever been preditors, nothing huge he could ever not handle. This was different and unsettling to him. These cultists were near savages and were ruthless. Ray was no Iron Hoof or magnificent soldier. Though he thought himself a good fighter and a steady warrior. He would not let his legacy end here, especially since this is where he felt it would start. These are the stories that would be told of him.
Everything seemed silent in that moment. The moment his hooves left the ground, charging forward to what could be his death. It had almost felt like slow motion, the way his teeth sank into bone and a hoof caught hold of flesh. After a few seconds everything seemed to catch back up with him. The screaming noises of those around and of his opponent. These cultists would not take him or the others so easily. He wouldn't let them.
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Word count: 417 post: 5
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Post by Jennycallie on Feb 26, 2016 4:03:17 GMT -6
Abram | Bondmate
Well, there was nothing quite like the experience of committing oneself to certain, painful and heroic death. Oh, except maybe for the following experience of having your heroic martyrdom be utterly and totally ignored.
Abram stumbled to a halt as the approaching horses merely split to avoid colliding with him, breezing right by. A pegasus, a paint mare, and- holy blowing sand that stallion was huge. The pegagus- were those bat wings? shouted something at him as she passed, and while Abram missed the specific words, the tone was clear; dismissive and scornful.
For a moment, Abram merely stood stock still, chest deep in snow as he digested this new information. The wind having been taken right out of his suicidal sails, the paint was now at a bit of a mental loss of what to do. He was seriously contemplating indignation when something whooshed past him with a blood-curdling scream. What in the snow-blasted hells-
Yeshua and another horse exploded in to the snow past Abram's hindquarters.
"YESHUA!" Terror began to fill Abram's so-called sails once more. He had to get to his twin, he had to- then the chestnut paint mare he had seen earlier had whizzed past Abram's other side, spouting some nonsense about Kaia even as she pelted towards what Abram was sure had to be Cultists this time. A lone mare, charging a group of Cultists. On the Night of Bloodletting. Gods damn it!
Abram lunged first towards Yeshua and his attacker, and at an opportune moment managed to lash out a hoof (don't hit Yesh, don't hit Yesh-) and connect a solid blow on the mare's skull. Yes! "Tell Osprey- just tell him- you know!" Abram shouted, and then he was turning and surging after Fox. He couldn't let her face them on her own, he just couldn't.
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Post by tarriedsea on Feb 28, 2016 15:06:59 GMT -6
Adrenaline made Fox brave to the point of complete stupidity. But she was high on Kaia's words, floating on air, confident they would be the victors.
She snorted and tore after the smallest vagabond. But someone followed her, the handsome paint stallion who had cried out earlier. Why?
You're just a mare, genius.
She swept the thought aside. She wouldn't let her gender get in the way of her amateur fighting skills, whether the paint stallion approved or not. She smirked, lifting her tail high and proud like a banner & arching her neck. She needed no protection.
With an uncoordinated hoof she reared up and sliced the cultist's neck, but the momentum on the downswing was too great for her to move instantly again, and she stumbled. While she scrambled to get all four feet under her, he reared and slammed both front feet on her shoulder, pinning her to the snow. Something tore in her shoulder, and she gasped. Tears sprang to her eyes. Her pride disintegrated like snow in the noon sun.
You're just a mare, genius.
She flailed her back legs, managing by sheer luck to kick the stallion in the groin. He immediately crumbled backward and she scrambled up, shoulder burning like hellfire. She was useless now with a shoulder that screamed in pain. While the stallion struggled to rise to his feet, she backed up frantically toward the woods, favoring her foreleg. The darkness could hide her, right? Would it be enough? If anyone came after her in her crippled state she'd be dead, or worse- a pagan bride.
We cannot lose, we cannot lose.
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