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Post by Deleted on Feb 16, 2018 21:55:55 GMT -6
medulla i'm coming alive, i'm happening now The harbingers awoke in a place that had become grotesquely familiar to them.
The light in Medulla's study was dim but highly visible, in the impossible way of dreams. The sound of her complicated clock -- a technological marvel unlike anything some of them had seen -- ticked in perfect rhythm from inside its tall cabinet. In the shelves on every wall, the spines of perfectly arranged books glinted like the belly of a snake, coiled around the room.
Every one of the harbingers had spent hours in this room, underneath the infinite ceiling, surrounded by the smooth mist of dream reality. Slumber had become a vehicle here, to this place of philosophy and satisfaction, where the world that left them wanting became like clay to be reworked under the guidance of Medulla's all-seeing eyes. Each of them had felt the hovering razor that was the Ascendant's inescapable attention. It had made them all quicker, more watchful, more resolute. It had showed them the way. It had showed them Digend.
The work they had done here was important. Medulla had taught them when to hide, when to speak, when to act. It was here that they were given the glimpses of their part in this story that made them whole. Some of them may have lived their days only to return to the fulfilling visions of sleep.
This place was solemn with destiny.
Medulla stood behind her imposing desk while her familiar skittered across her ledger, its pen nib head scratching figures into perfect columns. She watched its progress with an expression of silent scrutiny. The doorways behind her, one on each side of the desk, were dark.
"Others will be joining us," she said, matter of factly. The harbingers had been told this day might come, where they might be united with Digend's other agents, but they hadn't expected it today. They had all only ever been alone with her in this place.
Visions of new equines, of all ages, races, herds, blinked into the dim library. "Entertain yourselves." she said suddenly, and one of the tentacles dangling at her neck slammed shut the tome before her. The pages smashed together with a gasp, and the homunculus scribbling in them barely escaped destruction. "We will begin shortly."
She walked away through one doorway, leaving the harbingers alone in her study. A gauzy figure darted away past the opposite door, fleeing the Ascendant's attention. A thread for Digend's Harbingers.This thread is optional! Medulla will be giving out orders and setting up the Harbingers' shared dream space. 400 words | post 1 |
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Post by Moose-On-Ice on Feb 17, 2018 2:36:06 GMT -6
Closing his eyes in one world, only to open them in another was not a surprise. Zhen merely looked to one side, then the other, once he realized he was in Medulla's study once more, briefly taking in the fellow children of Digend beside him. He breathed in deeply, finding comfort in the fact that here... Here he could put aside the secrecy, stop hiding behind his papers and pens, he could speak freely about the lord of change.
His seafoam gaze, freckled with glints of gold, studied Medulla and the familiar scratching away at the paper. His ears pricked, gaze attentive, but relaxed. Others...? This... Seemed important. Hm... His ears flicked, gaze darting between the others and the Ascendant. This day finally had come. The unicorn blinked at the visions, a brow raising slightly at the sudden slam. He would think that she was on the wrong side of the bed, but it wasn't too out of character for the Ascendant.
He watched her leave, and then his attention returned to the other equines beside him. He knew they were fellow agents. Nothing more. But he knew nothing else. Zhen studied them one by one.
One, a dark fellow, seemed to have traces of Breim from what he believed. Reminded him of the culture his father, a Breimian, had brought to the Isles. Then another, lightly colored, thin, bright colors. Serora, maybe? Or maybe Aodh. The other golden bronze equine among them was also a toss between Aodh or Serora. But, there was the war between the two... Would the agents carry the same feud? Or would their duty to their lord still their hooves? Zhen took a moment to muse on that thought before continuing his assessment.
Then two that he recognized the air of Talori about them quite quickly. But he had not seen them on the Isles. Were there agents just across the water, this close to him the whole time? His gaze turned to the next. A rough, red colored fellow. Brutish, if he had to describe him. Perhaps the Vindicators? Or the Forged? He wasn't sure on that one. Then a pegasi with brightly colored, iridescent wings. Wasn't sure with that one. Or with a grey pegasi. Hm...
They were meant to entertain themselves, yes? Hm. "I suppose you all are also children of Digend?" He said simply, saying their lord's name aloud, even if it was in a dream, sending a shiver down his spine. He never could say it out loud in the other world... Not without risking exposure.
Word Count: 427 | Post 1
zhen: do we really need to make smalltalk medulla pls |
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Post by Maelorom on Feb 17, 2018 5:20:54 GMT -6
Constantine//:
The familar metallic tick of intricate machinery was the first sound to grace Constantine's slender ears. The delicate counting of time itself, an art of the gods if ever there was one. The Clock itself was an object he was fond of, so magnificent and complex. An object that portrayed the true beauty of the mind and its complexities. His wine-red eyes explored the familiar space in its dream-induced lucidity, lingering momentarily over the little differences that occurred over time. But they could not escape the commanding figure that stood central to the room's display. Settling on the Ascendant's form only a moment before she spoke. His ears swivelled minutely so as to catch her words, not that need be. Her voice was powerful despite it's volume not reaching more than conversational level. Taking in her words Constantine felt a soft flutter in his stomach, a gentle excitement nibbled at his serene state.
He was aware of the others that filled the room, but they were not the source of his emotion. He nodded, a short, respectful gesture of acknowledgement to the Ascendants command. And rather than turn to greet the other Harbingers, he quietly made his way to the clock. The others would surely introduce themselves, and in turn he would also. But rare was the opportunity to view this object of fascination, so much of his time here was spent in other activities. He was a clock-maker, one could hardly expect him to keep his distance from something so marvelous. But he did for a moment wonder what the others had achieved in their positions? He wished not to come up too poorly in comparison.
Dull, red eyes wandered thoughtfully over the strange craftsmanship of the clock. Another sound joined the rhythmic song of the clock. Startled for a moment Constantine recognised it as a question by an unfamiliar voice. "Yes, I do seem to be..." He replied in a soft tone, there was no trace of sarcasm of venom to it. But he suspected not every Harbinger in the room would be like himself, there surely were less refined and more savage children of Evolution among the gathered. His gaze did not yet wander from the intricate machinery, he recognised the familar movement and mechanisms. A smile crossing his lips as he recalled piecing together similar mechanisms himself.
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WC: 392
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Constantine: *More interested in a clock than real people*
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Post by Deleted on Feb 17, 2018 7:00:34 GMT -6
JUN
Every time Jun slipped to sleep, it was in hopes of returning to this place. The first thing that came through was the tick of the clock, it always did. It was like coming home. It did not matter where she was in her earthly form, not really. She lived for these moments. Her eyes had studied the atmosphere of the study so many times, and she was calm in front of Medulla’s attention. Only here she could openly be the tool for Digend she knew she truly was.
But it was certainly new that there were others, and Jun turned her head in the dreamscape to see them. Interesting, interesting, interesting.
“Oh course”, she replied steadily to Zhen, unblinking. The teal eyes were bright and attentive, yet ever-so-calm. There was no question; this was her destiny. No matter what it took. And she was shameless in front of her deeds, too - her life was for Digend. She had not hesitated to kill a child, or to place herself in the middle of negotiations between too countries, and then using the other party to heal her self-inflicted wounds that had been there to prove a point. She even dared to view the gods as tools, too, offering her new blessing as a yet another tool to sow chaos into the world.
She was curious if the others had done similar deeds. At least they had to be prepared to, otherwise Medulla would have unlikely chosen them, she thought as she studied their essences in this dream. They were one, in a sense. And she welcomed them as that.
Word count: 269 | post 1
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Post by striaga on Feb 17, 2018 19:55:28 GMT -6
L I U L F R
He expects something else. His nightly respite from what life is -- all the respite he has is the false home, with the wisps of his wife, his children. Liulfr has been blessed. Kaia has given him a gift. A gift, and she has no idea, the layers of him coming together like thick rock, holding him together, knitted at the edges. The dreams allow him to hold them again, to remember their faces, their words.
His chest is thick with worry, mourning.
He has begun to consider remarrying. A union between him and another woman, intended to throw the scent off. Liulfr has been nothing but a loyal War Forged stallion, and he has mourned, but there are eyes on him. He is a strong man, with many years of honor behind him. Some of his own clan have asked him with soft whispers: When are you taking another?
He's put it off time and again. He can do so no more. Liulfr breathes out and keeps silent; a stocky and scar-ridden figure in the corner of the room, hooves settled in Medulla's space. He says nothing. There is nothing for him to say to these equine. Liulfr figures they must be like him, but all of them must work for their own ends. He is no fool: he is the only one who wants to see the War-Forged undone, splayed, throats cut to create an apt grave for him to settle down in. Liulfr would not mind dying; the others thrum with service towards Digend. He does too, of course. Digend is his promise; the fluttering rage that will carve a bloodpath through Onea.
A breath escapes him, again. Liulfr closes his eyes. When they open, he speaks: "What herds do you speak for?"
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Post by FaunaFawn on Feb 18, 2018 19:25:45 GMT -6
Siamis
Harbinger of Serora
Curious he thought as he but merely closed his eyes only to open them here. A place that had become oh so familiar to him. The ticking of clock, the scratching of a pen at work, it was all so familiar to him. He felt at ease, but the feeling was whipped awya as he stole a glance about him and he gulped lightly.
Stranger. The room was filled with them, and Siamis looked to Medulla for answers, but she gave one before he could ask. Medulla told them to entertain themselves, and with that she shut the door and he was alone with all of them.
Siamis took in a light breath, a smirk growing on his lips as others were quick to talk. Normally that would be him, but it seemed someone had beat him to it. A pity he mused, but then again he did enjoy hearing their voices taking in the sight of this lot, all so different from one another, but if Medulla had chosen them all, they had more in common then one would think.
Eyes glanced to the others all of them spoke with short remarks quick questions to get a feel of who was among their lot. Siamis chuckled lightly as someone asked where they all came from. "I wouldn't say I necessarily speak for the herd honestly. Just like all you I can easily assume we all have our own motives for being here. Loose lips, sink ships don't they say?" he remarked with a chuckle.
He had no reason to explain himself or where he was. It was best to stay unfamiliar in a sense. He was known as the goofball, a sill thing. He worked it well, he enjoyed the play of it, but he craved more for his herd who time and time had failed everyone within it. It was time to change that. post 1 | 316 words |
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Post by Moose-On-Ice on Feb 18, 2018 22:16:21 GMT -6
At least they weren't mute. Even if their words held little useful information. Zhen watched one stride over to a clock, studying him with a bit of a curious gaze. His attention moved to another, the one with iridescent wings, when she replied. He returned her stare for a few moments. He still did not know who, or what she spoke for. Where she had been chosen to instill change. He'd find out sooner or later. He wanted to know for all of them. The pegasi had a point, loose lips could sink ships. If anything, he would be the one doing the sinking himself. Information always was so lovely in the ways it could be wielded like a dagger.
Zhen's head tilted, gaze slowly sliding to the large, red colored beast. To answer that, or not to answer it... Hm. His ears twitched at another voice chiming in. Perhaps... "I'm disappointed you don't trust your fellow children of our lord Digend." He returned with a sigh, brushing his bangs from his face. He didn't need to entirely say. He could hint, see if they were intelligent enough to realize. Gauge their awareness. "A herd formed by the free, for the free." Was his reply to the red beast. "While I wish I could speak for the entirety, I am not the one in charge." He paused.
"Come now, if you must not trust us with your location, you can perhaps indulge us in your name at the very least." Zhen looked to the pegasi who had chuckled. "I am willing to break the ice, so to speak. It has been far too long since I am able to speak without hiding behind an air of secrecy. You may call me Zhen."
Word Count: 292 | Post 2
zhen: *kinda doesnt want to make friends but is way too lonely outside of dreamspace* |
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Post by Maelorom on Feb 19, 2018 17:25:50 GMT -6
Constantine//:
The almost imperceptible click and whir of tiny cogs and metal against metal resonated through the clocks casing. It took a trained ear to catch the whisperings of the mechanisms in such a immaculately crafted device. It was with little strain that Constantine listened, absorbed in the harmonic thrum of the machines organs. The rhythmic metallic tick of the hands as they made their way in circular motion across the smooth face of the clock was a constant reminder. A reminder that time passes unfettered by any earthly force. No matter what occurs here and now time would continue its long and arduous march toward infinity. Everything would change, for no one could still time inevitably. That was why Digend stood so mighty in comparison to the more vulgar Gods of Hireath. Fire could be extinguished, water evaporated, earth crushed into little more than light. Evolution and change was inevitable, a true constant in its own, ironic way.
His dull, red eyes flickered across the mechanisms exterior. Darting from one feature to another with curiosity. He remained seemingly undestracted from his inspection as one slender, silver ear twitched to catch the words that passed between his companions. It seemed they were welcoming of each other, if a little distrusting. Unsurprising given the nature of the gathering still being a mystery to the gathered. The introduction began as he had predicted, from what little had been spoken he gathered that there was truly a variety in the locations that the gathered hailed from. Accents alone varied between speakers from the refined speech of the upper class to the rougher drawl of the less-sophisticated.
Pausing for a moment, Constantine draws himself back from the clock and turns to face the gathering. Perhaps he should introduce himself before he is deemed rude. He shuffles his wings into a more comfortable position, the soft sound feathers and the rasp of leathery membrane shifting are comforting. He often thought on how ironic it was that he had been gifted one wing of a dove and the other of a dragon, as if alluding to the fact that he hid something sinister. He noted a couple of pegasi amongst the gathered, both more vibrantly coloured than himself. He had to admit the mare's teal wings were quite impressive. With a soft smile he introduced himself "Eminent Constantine of house Rothchild, Aodhian" his tone was gentle and pleasant. Although he suspected he may not appear completely Aodhian, his sense of style governed entirely by the fashions of Breim. But it did mean that he looked far more fitting beside Medulla than Isador.
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WC: 436
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Post by Deleted on Feb 20, 2018 3:05:51 GMT -6
dorjan THIS IS A GAME, NO WRONGS, NO RIGHT
ONLY A WINNER AND A LOSER
He was no longer a stranger to the darkness her world offered. Crimson eyes awoke in another world, one that had grown all too familiar to the golden stallion. The ticking of the clock lulled him into a sense of security, the sight of her study strengthening him as he once more grew situated within the space around him. This time, however, he wasn’t alone. Dorjan cast a glance at the other equines gathered, scrutinizing them one by one before deducing that they were here for a reason - her reason - and that he could trust her. He had quickly learned to not question Medulla’s actions, rather embrace them as his own. His ear flicked when the book slammed, and he watched as she departed, staring after her even when others began to speak. The sight of silver wings did catch his attention though, and quickly his gaze locked onto them. He knew them, sure as day. Dorjan only half listened as words were exchanged, until finally introductions were uttered. Their positions intrigued him, but he did not speak until his fellow herd mate introduced himself. It was not easy to surprise Dorjan, let alone take him completely off guard, but this... “Adviser Dorjan of House Vulcan.” He caught his fellow’s eye. “Aodh.”_________________
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Post by striaga on Feb 20, 2018 8:17:41 GMT -6
L I U L F R
Liulfr immediately stops regarding the one who thinks it is time to play games. The pegasus is disregarded, shoved aside, marked as something else, marked as a fool. If he is too blind to understand they all must share the same purpose, he will not bother to explain. He is too old for it. Too old to play the games of younger horses. Too battle-worn.
He has fought on many a ground, and this is the one he finds least treacherous of all. But Liulfr listens.
Rogues. Aodhians. And he, from the War-Forged. A Talori. The other hippocampus--talori as well?
Liulfr speaks, before he lets his brain get away from him. He speaks with the stony certainty of a man who has grown used to leadership. "Liulfr of the Frozen Rocks." Ears flick back. "I stand on the Stone Circle." The Aodhians may know well enough what that means, if they've bothered to look into Onean culture (Liulfr has to stop himself from thinking of them as soft lowlanders; they are something of purpose to Digend if he's brought them here).
His years of leadership are written in the scars that mar his coat. The way he stands; a weathered and worn piece of stone that has dug in to see itself through yet another winter. He had little patience for those who thought themselves elusive and smart; they were, to him, as bad as Hira with her leadership that had shattered the herd, broken them. No better than Garok, who had grown too gluttonous for power. No better than the individuals who had supported these claims, no better than Liulfr's father.
Liulfr feels no need to fill the silence. He trusts that information will come with time.
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Post by FaunaFawn on Feb 20, 2018 11:44:25 GMT -6
Siamis
Harbinger of Serora
Brow arose lightly as one that called themselves Zhen seemed to start the domino effect of everyone introducing themselves and Siamis sighed. What a shame honestly, he much preferred to try and aim and pinpoint who belonged to where, it was best for him to keep his judgement and knack for perception in check, but of course the others too serious. Though Siamis chuckled a Zhens remark of not trusting other Digend followers. Perhaps they have never heard stories of the cult, but let it surprise the seasworn equine.
Eyes watched each one introduce themselves, saying where they are from, he gauged their reactions, watched carefully with a friendly smile on his face. He played the fool well, it was what he did well. A fool was never taken to seriously it made trouble flow of his shoulders. Though being seen as a fool by others here? Well he did enjoy surprising others. He'd let them judge him none the less. Play the fool.
Ahh it must be his turn he thought with glee. "A pleasure to met you all. Fellow bringers of change." He mused lightly. "I am Siamis, from Serora." He dipped his head lightly as his small frame remained relaxed in the presence of them. A charming smile still held on his lips. post 2 | 216 words |
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Post by Doot.a.doi.toi.toi on Feb 21, 2018 12:58:43 GMT -6
Doev
Doev abstractedly watched the movement of his pen across the page of his shipment ledger. Tangerine peel, 16 ounces; sesame, 32 ounces; ground ginger root, 80 ounces; prickly ash pepper, 16 ounces; dried seaweed, 16 ounces—all the spices required to obscure the maddening monotony of the tasteless, starchy bulk of the Breimian diet. How analogous to their ‘cultural denial’ his trade seemed now: a cover-up of another issue their xenophobic isolationism provided. Then, his philosophizing rarely stretched beyond cynical pessimism in the present—weighed down through the ethical paradoxes he continued to wrestle with, despite everything, until the lines blurred. Doev paused and drained his tumbler glass of grain liquor in a single pitch back, its smell almost nauseating in the atmospheric undertone of spices that clung, cloyingly, to the walls of his home. He didn’t know why he’d bothered screwing over his old man—it hadn’t made much of a difference, really. Breim hadn’t opened its damned eyes. Doev set down the empty glass and laid his head down across the backrest of the settee, his barrel swelling with the steady pull of a long, tired sigh. He had not realized how efficient his ‘nightcap’ was this evening—nor that his heavy eye had closed as his ruminations carried him far away from the cramped quarters of his office, then slipping from his skull as though his thoughts were made of sand. Something groped about his withers—feeling about like fleshy ropes that, all at once, found and constricted at his throat. ‘ Doev.' He heard and turned at once, his eye wide, bright, perhaps malignant. The queasy, gauzy curtains of his drunken transition pulled away, bringing everything into focus. He was still reclined in a settee, however the office it was now situated in was not his own—nor were the assembled bodies his usual dream apparitions: not imagoes, but living individuals caught in the same dream-space as himself. A grimace twisted his features when the visions came flooding in, his teke pitching at the crux of his knitted brow as though the sudden stimulus was a touch too intense. Then, as curt and cursory as always, Medulla left them with a cold hostess’ hospitality. From his position on the very fringe of the assembled horses, his singular eye began hunting—meticulous in its culling of his environment and peers. Dissection started at once, and the assorted trepidation, guarding, passive aggression, and fronting brought a broken smile to his tired expression. His ribs jumped with a few notes of nearly inaudible, breathy laughter. A rousing start.
“ Doev Croix. Breim.” No honorifics, no titles. Doev rose from the settee, eliciting a small groan from stallion and furniture alike.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2018 21:38:25 GMT -6
JUN
Her turquoise gaze stopped at everyone who spoke - it was all rather interesting to the young pegasus. Or at least she thought all of the others looked older than her, some more significantly than others. Their cultures and life experiences ingrained to their very being, looking so very real yet ethereal at the same time in this otherwise familiar dreamscape. Jun's eyes lingered on the Talorians, and then the Seroran. Finally, one from Breim. She would have recognized the certain accent anytime, not the least because she had been trying to hide hers.
No one seemed exactly willing to offer open trust to their fellow harbingers, but there wasn't open animosity either. Not that there was need for that, but her time with the Flight had shown her the much more violent side of life. It had made Digend much more concrete to her - all the chaos, discord, driving the change... It was so much more than just hearing about it. It was like it was in her bloodstream, every beat of her pulse, everything around her.
"Jun, from the Flight", she said on her own turn, with a polite smile and a nod, trying to acknowledge all who had spoken.
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Post by mule-guts on Mar 27, 2018 0:20:41 GMT -6
 come little children, ill take thee away
Her day had been tiring, dealing with foals for hours on end does that to you but it’s something she wouldn’t change for anything. Teaching, playing, discipling, all things she lived for but also, the bed within her little cabin called the Caenna every night. Caoimha had just finished up lesson plans for the next day before resting her head atop the soft pillow. Her eyelids slowly drifted shut, images of pen against paper and the sounds of gleeful foals laughing filled her mind.
It however wasn’t long before all that vanished and she was pulled into the ever familiar dreamscape. A dreamscape she no longer found cold in. Her green eyes blinked the room into focus. Her senses taking everything in. The Ascendant. The ticking of the clock. The others. She was taken aback by the array of equines of all shapes and sizes, but she dare not let it show. Her face remained stoic and unchanging as she studying everyone. The act of Medulla speaking and leaving, took her attention away from the group for a moment, only for it to return a moment later.
As everyone introduced themselves, Caoimha’s gaze shifted and she formed superficial opinions on the other Harbingers. She soaked in everything they said, despite the little it was, it could be useful. Her ears gave a slight twitch as Luilfr introduced himself. Another Forged? Interesting. She let everyone else speak before taking her turn.
“Caoimha,"She glanced to Luilfr, debating on taking his lead and simply stating her rank, leaving it up to the others to figure out, if they were smart enough. “Caenna.” Her voice was low but soft and she left her introduction with that.
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Post by ebbarie on Mar 27, 2018 12:04:48 GMT -6
Tick, Tack. Tick, Tack.
The annoying ticking of the clock told revealed where he was before he even opened his eyes. He had always admired the strange invention that was capable to give time a visible form, but today the sound was poison for his already bad mood.
He didn't had the nerve for any indoctrination's today, but that obviously didn't mattered to the Ascendant.
And as if that wasn't enough already, things were different today. Today he wasn't the only one that Medulla had summoned into her dream. Several equines were around, that had arrived not long before him.
It was strange to meet others here, at this surreal place.
He let his gaze wander around analytical, carefully examining the other agents. Just from their look, he tried to guess from which herd they where. With some it was easy, and not uprising when they introduced themself. Others were more difficult to understand.
The corner of Naasirs mouth slightly lifted when the Rouge revealed himself, the hint of a smile. However that small sight of good mood disappeared instantly when the blue winged Pegasus mare spoke.
He recognized her.
And he was aware of what she had done. Rage boiled in his veins together with memories of the past months and he didn't even tried to hide it. His face said it all.
"Guard Commander Naasir, from Talori" he finally spoke, after a seemingly soft and friendly unicorn mare, with a deadly glance towards Jun.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2018 11:53:30 GMT -6
dorjan THIS IS A GAME, NO WRONGS, NO RIGHT
ONLY A WINNER AND A LOSER
One after the other, they introduced themselves. A procession line of glinting eyes and terse introductions, all uncanny in their shared suspicion and apprehension as they glanced around the room. Strangers that touched every part of the world, all brought together for one shared goal, one dream, one desire.After years of court - of being at the very center of the viper's nest - he knew where to look. Some glares lingered where others did not, lips twitched as certain voices rose, and for a moment, he pitied them. He could not deny the twist in his stomach as the Serorans spoke, but all too quickly he remembered their cause. Medulla would not have united them unless it was necessary, and he knew they were to serve a greater purpose. The stallion from Talori caught the Adviser's attention, and he stared dissaprovingly as aggression sparked in his face. Now was not the time for foolishness.How were they meant to prosper if they fought? This was another world, a place where the wars of daylight did not reach. In the darkness, they were untouchable. Dorjan glanced once more at the Serorans, and took a step forward. "There is a purpose for this," the stallion spoke with his head high, voice rumbling. He would not falter. Strangers or not, they were more united than one would think. "And I doubt allowing our... differences to drive a stake between us all was the desired outcome of this gathering."His heart beat in tandem with the ticking of the clock."We were all chosen for a reason. Best we learn about one another without hostility involved."_________________
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