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Post by Queerly on Jul 1, 2018 12:55:30 GMT -6
Hello Starborn, and welcome to Aodh Plot 605: Riot Team Leader: Deidra Participants: Jasmine, Omar, Rania, Sarim, Etain, Hawthorne, Alarik, Airita, Gil Date: April 11th, Noon 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.- No god-moding or reading characters' minds (unless your pony is a literal telepath, anyway)
- Always get consent before harming another character!- Your team is precious. Try to interact with everyone. <3- Have fun! Even if your pony isn't. 8'DPrompt: They’ve fucked with your livelihood just one too many damn times. First, they start torching all the Vagabonds so you can’t get any new stock--now they’re straight up stripping your stock from you without so much as a promise to return it! The Chevaliers are rounding up pit and servile slaves into the Dark District to act as (or perhaps just be) labor slaves due to the big escape. So far you haven’t heard a peep about fair payment either. Enough is enough--let your voice be heard in the square. You make this country run and they can sure as anything listen to your gripes. |
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Post by FaunaFawn on Jul 1, 2018 16:46:41 GMT -6
 DeidraFuck AodhHow dare this incompetent city take away her slaves! Not only did they take her ready to be sold slaves, but those that still needed to be trained. Those damn pompous chevaliers came in on the Kings order to take what was hers. Deidra scowled, her infamous resting bitch face looked ready to kill with a single glance. Marching herself down into the heart of the city, she could hear the screams and cries of others. Everyone getting their property taken from them, with no word if they would return whole, if they would get repaid for this act. Fuck the King, Deidra thought. Eyes glanced to her side, a wepaon and her whip stuck on her side. Oh Aodh would pay dearly for this injustice.
Taking out a spear she aimed it at a building and snarled darkly. "So the King thinks they can take what is ours? I've been a slave trader my whole life, and now with this you have wrecked everything for me. How am I to earn a living in this great city? Will they repay us for our slaves? Will they ensure our slaves will come back even at all? I've seen labor slaves, they die like flies and now they have taken what is ours. I think its time to reap what you sow." Deidra snarled darkly within the heart of the square. Deidra would not back down without a fight. "Who will rise with me? Who will take back what is ours?" she declared outwards as she raised her spear slamming the end on the ground making it erupt with heat vision.
Eyes narrowed as she spotted she had gained some of the Chevaliers attention. Good let them come, let them get near. This would not be the first time she fought a chevalier nor would it be the last she thought with bitter distaste. Deidra prayed others would join in her rally and perhaps make a muk of this city. Would serve the king and his men so well to watch this city erupt in chaos. Deidra let out a smirk as she aimed her spear at what seemed to be chevalier, letting it sizzle before it erupted outwards of heat vision hitting a local store front sending the building quickly in flames. Deidra narrowed her eyes and snorted. "You want a war so terribly, now you have one."
WC:401 | Post #1 |
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Post by promsong on Jul 1, 2018 17:05:49 GMT -6
| | JASMINE MONEY, POWER, GLORY POST # 1 | WORD COUNT 430 | SONG | MOODBOARD |
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he had felt practically untouchable since she inherited the wealth her husband left for her. No one could take anything away from her and she could have anything she wanted. Until that morning. There was a harsh knock at the door and as Jasmine pulled a robe over her self, Tess answered it before she could make it to the front of the house. It was only moments before they shoved a bridle on her and were cornering her against the large doors of the house. Jasmine was tiny but determined, and she rushed to the scene as soon as she possibly could. She hadn't seen herself get that mad in a while. The men were chevaliers, or so they said, and they were here to take her slave for the city. Tess wasn't just her slave, she was her only friend. So when they continued to corner the mare, Jasmine placed herself in between the two of them and told them they better back off or she would shove her horn up their asses. And while those chevaliers left with bloody scratches and open wounds from Jasmine's unicorn horn, they left with Tess as well. Pulling a white scarf over her head and grabbing her black sunglasses, she stormed out of the beachside villa with the intention to take back what was hers. And they would pay. Hurridly, Jasmine found herself going from a slow trot to a full-on gallop as the panic set in. Her horn was still covered in the blood of those chevaliers and while she was wearing a white shawl, the crimson seeped into it. As she entered the heart of the city, others seemed to be in a state of panic as well. A mare stood in the midst of the chaos, calling the citizens of Valore to action. Every word that came out of the young woman's mouth was right and Jasmine felt herself becoming even more livid as she listened. She could already smell the smoke in buildings and see the spilt fruit of market carts that had been tipped over. She wanted to scream that they had stolen her family, but to admit that a slave was considered family was a sin in itself. Tossing off the sunglasses into the mass of confused bodies, she pushed herself to the front of the crowd to watch the woman begin to set on fire a shop. Inspired, she shoved between everyone and headed straight for a nearby bank. If there was one thing rich people hated, it was their money going to the poor. ISHY of THQ & ADOXOGRAPHY |
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Post by Moose-On-Ice on Jul 1, 2018 17:33:50 GMT -6
Everything he heard indicated people being outraged about their belongings being stolen. Belongings being slaves. Belongings. Those were bloody fuckin' living beings! Everyone was simply outraged at not getting a bit of coin for the souls probably condemned to working until their legs gave out and blood dripped down their lips. No one dared to think about the fact that this was injustice to the slaves! Their owners said they were the victims? To-fucking-hell with that! No! The victims were the slaves themselves! At least under their owners they had SOME resemblance of a decent life! At least with their owners they didn't need to get worked until they died of exhaustion! With the chevaliers, with Aodh 'owning' them, none of them would last long! ...Demetrius wouldn't last long.
Fury and fear gripped his soul once he had heard about the outcome of the Aodhian slaves, be them servile or pit fighter. His thoughts had jumped to Demetrius, his lover, one of his few sources of light in this fucking shithole of a city. Demetrius was strong physically, with his build, but his soul, his mind... He was too passive, too obedient. It scared Omar to think that if Demetrius was asked to pull weights until he was skin and bones, he'd obey. It scared him to think that his daughter would grow up with one half of her parents being completely gone. The moment he heard, Omar practically dragged Rona with him to the Palasa Sanctum, hastily begging the Flamen, Tiresias, to watch her for the day.
Then, with his daughter safe, and his sword strapped to his side, he stormed to the streets, following the surge of noise and outrage, his wolf, Jarl, following at his heels. Sparks flickered from his heels where they struck the cobblestone, smoke puffed from his nostrils, his eyes burning with a smoldering fury. They dared to take the slaves of Aodh, the ones who had nothing to begin with, and force them into something they could not control, something that could very well kill them. They dared to take Demetrius, his light, his joy. He'd take what they valued. He'd destroy what they loved. If anyone dared to stop him, he'd not hesitate to draw his blade.
Hooves skidding on the stone, he crashed into the fray, hearing shouts and calls of justice and rage.
"You want a war so terribly, now you have one."
Nothing resonated with him more than that one phrase. They asked for this, they wanted a war with all of their claims of Serora harming them. This was on their heads. Drawing in a deep breath, heat building in his chest, Omar let loose his fury on the nearest jewelry store, flame bursting from his throat like that of a dragon, setting the establishment on fire.
"Come now! You take what we hold dear, what we protect and cling to!? You do this without our knowledge, OUR DECISION?! You bring the fury of Aodh, the fury of a city upon yourselves!" He roared, cutting off the flames from his lips, smoke streaming from his nostrils and flames licking his heels. "This is your due for what you have done!" He snarled, head whipping to look at the nearest Chevaliers trying to fight back the crowd. He hadn't endured a real battle for many years. It was unlikely he'd forgotten what he knew. It was time to put that to the test. "Jarl, to me!" He hissed, pivoting and charging the two Chevaliers.
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Post by firebirdfalling on Jul 1, 2018 17:51:57 GMT -6
♛ Rania was pissed. No... more than pissed. Through her rage addled mind, she really couldn't think of a word that could describe anything close to what she was feeling right now.
The slaves being taken were one thing. But her slave... no her brother, was taken and being forced away from her, one of her last living kin. No, she couldn't stand for it.
It didn't take her long to reach her boiling point, breaking the lid on her restraints and ripping it off it's hinges in a wave of raging fire. No amount of reasoning could reach her, as everything had turned red long ago.
Somewhere along the line she had gotten her hands on a set of throwing knives and they now dangled dangerously around her like a necklace of death. Earlier there had been rioting down her street but they had quickly moved on towards the center of the district, which she gladly entered after arming herself. She'd also acquired a large sword imbued with a flame blessing, much to her raging delight.
Everything was a blur at this point, she barely remembered even getting here but now everyone was going to feel what she was feeling. Property wasn't stolen from her, a family member was. All because some king needed new labor slaves.
Others rioted around her, a mare screaming for war and another shooting flames from his mouth. That was fine by her, but she was ready to fight for her sibling. No one, NO ONE, took Athelstan away from her. She spotted the armor of a couple Chevilars fighting against the masses.
Rania roared a battle cry, flinging two of her knives at them, not caring if they drew blood or not. They needed to know her rage and what better way then to hurt them herself? Post #1 | WC: 303 | Rania: Mob Boss ulla |
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Post by Spectre on Jul 1, 2018 18:38:30 GMT -6
Zenia;Adoh | Architect
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned"
Zenia was never one for rage. It was frivolous, short lived, a burning that consumed all, but nothing. While she had never been one for it, there had never been a reason for her to be enraged. She had been alone, nothing and no one else to be worried about. She had once held a simple existence.
Then Obed came into her life.
She had not known then why she had taken the cremello home with her. He was frail, quiet, and had seemed to scared to even eat without her word. She had the shards to purchase a better slave, but she didn't. Because unlike the other slaves who were so broken that their eyes never shined or were held up with a facade of energy, Obed’s eyes had actually gleamed with a yearning for life. Small, yes, but burning nonetheless. She had taken the dun under her tutelage and gave him as much as a normal life she could give.
She taught him how to play chess, to draw, to read and write. With those lessons she found herself caring for the cremello, finding her companion a welcome new life within her home. Zenia over the last five years began to understand why she enjoyed his company so much… Her home had been silent for so long she had forgotten the joys of company. So Zenia found herself caring for Obed like she would a son.
The first mistake was the brand.
The final mistake was taking him away from their home.
She had woken to the sounds of barks and pounding. She had dashed down the stair only to see a bleeding Ace with blood on his muzzle and a murderous glint in his eye. All she knew was that Obed was gone. It didn’t take long to figure out what happened, not with the shouts of fury raging across the city. They had taken her family, and they would pay in blood.
Rage had struck her like lightning. She had put on her glasses and marched out the door, her familiar Ace right behind her with blood on his muzzle and his fangs bared. Zenia planned to raise hell as if Ignacio himself was raining down his divine fury. She had followed her nose until she found herself standing before the heart of the market district, just in time to hear the words of a chestnut stallion.
She paused for brief moment before growling.
Her heart roared in agreement. Zenia found a forgotten spear and that was all it took for her to finally lash out. “Ace, attack!” A growl was her reply as the dog shot out from behind her heels like lighting, finding his target in the one chevaliers. Zenia wasn’t as strong as that stallion, she knew that, but that wouldn’t stop her from causing damage. She brought up her familiar’s attack with her own, clashing weapons with the chevaliers. She sent a wicked smirk towards the stallion as they fought, “Hope you don’t mind the company!”
WC: 504 | Post 1 |
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Post by brittlewren on Jul 2, 2018 0:49:19 GMT -6
ÉTAÍN
The news had found her before the morning had even been roused from its quiet slumber, and Gods she hated it. She didn't even know if those inbreds had reached Opulence, let alone her winery, but eventually her slaves would be taken. The whole thing was bullshit. How the fuck was she supposed to run a business with no manual labor? Eyes darkening, she plucked the brushes from her ensuite, applying her citrine eyeshadow and curling her lashes. Fuck those Chevaliers, fuck Isador in all his entitlement. Meticulously drawing the sharp wings in the corners of her eyes, she chanced a glance out her hostel window, over the endless rows of shingled roofs and towards the Market district. A crowd was brewing. They would get what they asked for, and by Ignacio's light she was going to look good doing it.
Reaching for her bridle and coat, she stormed from the complex and quickly found herself weaving through the throng of protesting equines. Pressing towards the front, the call of a woman rang out over the crowd, followed by a sharp clang of metal on stone. The grey mare seemed capable with her weapon, and determined enough to take down the nearest chevaliers. Etain narrowed her eyes to slits as others began to rally, streams of fire consuming an adjacent jewelry store. "Focus on the chevaliers, you idiot," she muttered. Gaze darting over the merchandise of the surrounding stalls, she braced herself against the crowd and set off towards one that housed an assortment of blades. "Or it might just be your slaves cleaning up the place."
She seemed to take her time browsing, that was until the front window glass shattered as an axe burst through it. Animals. Where's your sense of sophistication? Throwing open a case next to her, she turned a small dagger over in her teke - a jade handle with intricate ivory carvings. Lips drawing into a grin, she kissed the blade. You'll do. Whipping her head around, she caught the sight of a young stallion as knives clattered off his armoured hide. He wasn't clad head to hoof in metal like the others at least. Slipping the knife under her cloak, she called out to him. "Surprised you don't have any piercings, gorgeous," Sliding out the door, she began to trot towards him. He seemed unsure of what to do with her, for all he knew she was unarmed. But then again, she did just come out of a shop loaded with weaponry. "Let me give you one," she purred.
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Post by NorthernMyth on Jul 2, 2018 5:21:51 GMT -6
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Alarik | MerchantPost 1
Word Count: 1046
-I am so sorry. I couldn't stop typing-
Word had spread like wildfire about the chevaliers dragging slaves out of their homes and away from their owners. Hell, you didn’t need to hear about it. You could walk down the street and see them doing it first hand. It was awful to hear and see. It was what had woken the chestnut that morning.
Alarik had been cleaning the shop floor when they had come bursting in. Almost tearing the door off its hinges as it swung open violently and smacked against the sandstone wall behind it. He let out a burst of air through his nose in surprise, his ears flicking to lay flat against his neck. Alarik swiveling around to face the intruder that had almost scared him off his feet. But was pushed aside by a burly chevalier before he could get a good look at him. 3 more followed suit behind him. They seemed to be looking for something, or ... someone. “Can I help you?” annoyance drowned in Alarik’s tone.
The lead Chevalier seemed to ignore him completely, turning to his comrades. “Search the place” Their voice gravely and bitter. The others seemed to fan out making their way around the shop floor.
“Excuse me?!” Alarik moved in front of the armor-clad buckskin. His eyes finally able to get a good look at the brute. His mane was cut short. Shaven to the base of his neck. His eyes a dark bloodied red. He was missing a chunk out of his left ear and a scar following across his right cheek, over the bridge of his nose and almost ended at the side of their mouth on the left. As well as another older scar going over the top of his neck. Their armor, gold plated steel with the herd's symbol on the breastplate and above it - King Isodors House symbol. “I said, can I help you.” Alarik reiterated. Although intimidated, he was taller than this stallion, but only by a few inches. He was doing what Ray had told him to do. “Stand tall, make eye contact, show you’re brave and not scared of them.” His knees began to buckle a little. Becoming fidgety and uneasy. “You can’t just come bursting into here like it's nobody's business. We’re not even open yet.”
The buckskin shot Alarik a look.
“I’m going to have to ask you and your friends to leave.” Rik furrowed his brows a little more. Puffing his chest out slowly. Attempting to appear bigger against the buff older stallion.
The Chevalier opened his maw, this time he glared directly at the young stallion. “We?” He grumbled, “Who else is in here with you?” His tone almost daring and taunting at the chestnut. One of the others filed further and further to the back. Reaching the door to the weapon and supply storage. As another picked up a weapon from a display shelf.
It took Alarik off guard. He was used to saying “we” because Ray was always here with him. But he was off helping in the war against the Serorins and someone needed to man the store while he was gone. And there was also … There was a “yelp” and a gut-wrenching manly “scream” from the backroom. One of the brutes had discovered Raynon’s Slave and had begun dragging her from what had been called her room for the time being. She was still asleep in the further most back room. Alarik didn’t want to bother her until he was ready to open. Even then he didn’t ask much from her. “Mosaic!” Alarik yelled out. The stallion turning a full 180 and lurching forward as another Chevalier ran in to help his comrade.
The young mare came out kicking and screaming. Two held her while the other forcefully pulled a muzzled bridle over her small face. “The bitch bit me!” A bay grumbled through his teeth while Mosaic thrashed around, attempting to get free.
“Let her go!” Alarik now more pissed off. How dare they hurt her, touch her even.
The commanding officer stepped in front of Rik and a smirking sneer lining his face. “By order of the King, all slaves are to be taken for repurposing, for the labor force until further notice.” The older stallion shuffled closer to the teenage mare. “This one seems to have a lot of fight in her. She’ll do well as a laborer.” A grin bore across his face. Of course, his audience was with Alarik. “Shame though, she’s a pretty one. She won’t last 6 months.” The stallion reached out his misty red Teke at her face. By this point, she had stopped thrashing around. The bridle strapped around her face tightly. Tears fell from her eyes and she pleadingly looked at Rik. The Chevalier took her head gently by the jaw but she quickly retracted from his grasp.
Alarik was furious. He wanted so much to grab a dagger or sword off a shelf and jam it in this guys throat. His eyes fell on Mosaic. Her expression in panic mode. He could hear her worrying thoughts. Screaming in agony and pain. It pained the chestnut severely. Relaying thoughts back to her that Ray always reminded them both. “Head up, eyes forward. Don’t show them fear.” He repeated it twice, perhaps three times at the mare. It seemed to calm her just a little. Her eyes narrowing at the biggest Chevalier and he seemed to move back towards the door. The young chestnut moved in front of the doorway. “I ask that you let her go!” Alarik now polite but demanding.
The brute’s eyes narrowed. Annoyance now his main expression. “Move aside pipsqueak. Before you get hurt.” Taking another step forward.
“Is that a threat?” Alarik dared the question at the band of chevaliers. But before he could do anything else they all took another step forward. The commanding chevalier approached Alarik with force. His shoulder slamming the chestnut on the face, neck, and shoulder and into a hard surface. “I said move aside!” Leaving the chestnut on the ground, winded and now with a bust nose.
“Bastards!” Alarik exclaimed. Picking himself up from the shop floor and wiping the blood that was running down his lip and dripping all over the floor.
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Post by promsong on Jul 2, 2018 10:28:15 GMT -6
| | JASMINE MONEY, POWER, GLORY POST # 2 | WORD COUNT 314 | SONG | MOODBOARD |
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er sunglasses had been ditched by this point and she was angrily marching towards the bank. With pillars over 6 feet tall framing it and the marble steps, Jasmine stomped up to the entrance. She had her bloodied horn, a small dagger, but that was all in terms of physical weaponry. With her blessing of psychic manipulation, if anyone even considered getting near her, she would convince them they had better things to do than attack. As she pushed through the doors with her teke, the building was eerily empty. The only movement she saw was someone shuffling behind the counter. Keeping her eye on them, she moved past the front of the bank and headed for the back. When she arrived, there was a large man standing in front of one of the vaults. He had managed to open it and she looked up at him as they stared each other down. Blinking her eyelashes, she gave a smile. "I would move if I were you.""And why would I do that?" he huffed, saddlebags already overflowing with shards. "Because I said so," she replied with a shrug, approaching in a confident stride. There was a flash of anger in his eyes but that fire was quickly put out. His defensive stance became passive, submissive even, and he slowly backed up. "Go on, I'm busy." With those final words, he gave her one last look and made his way out of the area. Jasmine took in the sight of seeing a room specifically for housing currency. The large metal door was swung open from the last person opening it and all of the hard work was done. She ran out of the room and then into someone's office, searching the place for some bags. She found a few fabric ones and then began to stuff them with the shards once she returned. ISHY of THQ & ADOXOGRAPHY |
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Post by Diregull on Jul 2, 2018 12:55:04 GMT -6
Sarim
If you don't love me then I ain't gonna give it up
He should have known this day was not going to be a good one as soon as he got out of bed.
Sarim, firstly, was never an early riser, but the arrival of Gil in town had changed his schedule for the worse. Barely a puff of hookah was afforded to him before the salt-encrusted stallion had shown up in his room, bag hefty with shards. Oh, he and Gil had their fun, of course, Sarim was nothing if not great at customer service, but he was restless, itchy all over and sitting around with Gil inside of the Pearl did not rub him the right way. He wanted to be out and about, not cramped inside of the Pearl servicing Gil while life went on without him.
Gil did not take kindly to the suggestion, but Sarim found his patience wearing thin. Gil was not a client that Sarim truly had any say with-- the older stallion had his word as law in Harborside, had ego and pride that brimmed with each fight that went on in his dirty Ring-- but in Valore Sarim was able to call the shots. This was not Harborside, this was the town that Sarim had grown up in.
So Gil was going to take him shopping and buy him something nice, Ignacio damn it all.
Like a proper and pretty picture Sarim trotted next to his companion, head tilted so his horns caught the sun just so, and nostrils flared to take in the scent of the sea breeze and the smoke--
The smoke?
Sarim stopped in his tracks, finally paying attention to something else other than how gorgeous he looked that day and focusing on the smoke and crushed fruit, the absolute chaos as Chevaliers were getting pummeled left and right. A mare stood shouting, heat vision erupting the ground before her. "Gil...," Sarim whined, taking a step back, front hoof raised, tail lashing as if to bolt. "What's going on?"
There was a familiar face in the crowd-- granted, Sarim recognized many of the commoners that he tried to pretend he was above-- a flash of sunglasses catching the flickering embers of chaos around them as Jasmine, dignified with blood dripping down her horn, began to shove through the crowd and into the gleaming silver columns of the bank. "Jasmine!" Sarim called, but she was gone, long gone, and Sarim found himself in the midst of a sweeping wave of fury and chaos touching those around him. A wolf nipped at heels as a stallion with sparks and flame dove into the fight, Ignacio there were a lot of dogs here, he caught sight of a Doberman in the chaos and--
Fuck this. Sarim was too pretty to die here.
Swiftly he turned, pressing himself to Gil's side, tossing his head and trying to push his client out of the crowd. "I do not want to be here for whatever the fuck kind of party this is," Sarim hissed. "Get me the hell out of this nightmare!"
(Post 1 | 472) |
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Post by Moose-On-Ice on Jul 2, 2018 12:59:38 GMT -6
He was furious. Furious was an understatement, in all honesty. Powered by blind rage, Omar practically crashed into the Chevaliers, screaming at the top of his lungs, sword swinging, flames flying. Jarl was at his back, snarl and biting anyone who dared to come at his master from behind. This was not like the battles he had fought in Onea. In Onea there was tactic, careful planning before charging with the strength and ferocity of a pack of wolves, multiple bodies surging to his call to overwhelm the enemy forces. Here, it was nothing more than a blind, bloody, almost frantic attack, desperate to cause harm and pain in the enemy forces.
“Hope you don’t mind the company!”
Ears twitching, Omar did not take his eyes off of the Chevalier he was engaged with. Blocking an attack with his sword, he snarled, letting loose another, smaller breath of flame into the Chevalier's chest. Heating up the armor to the point of it beginning to melt into the Chevaliers chest, he sent that one reeling and running away, screaming bloody murder out of pain. Now turning his gaze, Omar looked at his new companion. She was an Aodhian, he could tell that much. He weighed if she would be useful in battle or not, as it was highly unlikely she had some form of proper training... Still, numbers were useful...
"Just be careful and don't get in my way, and you're fine!" He finally replied. Whistling to Jarl, he sent the wolf to aid the mare and her own familiar before turning and facing a new group approaching, no doubt sent by the one who fled crying. Unlike a true battle, he supposed that outright killing them wouldn't be a good plan. Incapacitate or send them fleeing, like he did to the first, he decided. Lifting his sword, Omar took note of his energy level. Damn, he practiced with his blessings, but he'd never needed to use them like this... He needed to be more careful. He looked over his shoulder to make sure Jarl was okay, and watched the wolf tear into one of the Chevalier's back legs for a few moments before he turned forward, setting his jaw. This was not Onea, he was not fighting with his pack, with the Ulfhednar.
No, he was fighting with something far more grand, far more large than the Ulfhednar ever were. The lifeblood of a city, the citizens, they were the ones rallying to the cause. Snarling, Omar charged the Chevaliers, and he was not the only one with the same mindset, as other commoners already had reached the group, beginning to try and take swings. He admired their courage, they knew very little of battle, and still they rallied, aiming to fight and cause destruction. Perhaps they and he were under different banners, with them lamenting their lost property, and Omar enraged by his light being potentially condemned to darkness, but they had a common goal. The government must suffer.
With a wild yell, Omar again leapt into the battle, body slamming one of the Chevaliers and sending them into the thick of a crowd, only hearing a shout before the rioting equines converged on their position. Stumbling to his feet after the impact, Omar lifted his sword, slashing at the next Chevalier, eyes alight with battle hunger and fury.
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Post by SaintPumpkinMuffin on Jul 2, 2018 19:40:58 GMT -6
Gil
Valore was a city that-- like the many slaves in it—caused Gil’s guts to writhe… sometimes in an exciting way, but mostly in an unsettling way. Because of that Gil had left Valore long ago. Left it out of his heart, and out of his mind. The city had pulled him in when he was younger. It had given him an illusion of power, but as a chevalier he had been quick to realize that while it had offered him more richness than he’d known before, he was still nothing better than a dog. After Falk and his sister’s departure, there was little reason of substance to return. Not when a flock of prostitutes could be bought from afar. But sometimes errands needed to be run… a few judges and chevaliers paid off to avoid fines, to be more specific. So why not make a few days trip out of it, indulge his senses a bit, if he was forced to do business in the cesspool anyway. One (or two) romps in the sheets with Sarim would have been more than enough. But now the vile leech was expecting Gil to go shopping? Well, Gil could always just spend the time making a fool of Sarim. That was always a fun pass time. Still, the older man couldn’t help but get lost in thoughts of Hancock or Raz, two horses whom Gil would much rather be wasting time with. Gods knew he wasn’t at all listening to the courtesan blather on. That was, until, it seemed the city burst into flames. Because, well fuck, it actually did. “Gil… what’s going on?” came Sarim’s scraggled voice. Gil’s eyes flashed into focus as he witnessed the scene before him: Jasmine slipping by and into the bank; Deidra rallying total strangers; Omar, Zenia and their canines attacking chevaliers… “It seems,” said Gil, scooping one of the spilled fruits from the ground to take a thoughtful bite, “like a riot is going on, Sarim.” Crunch. Gil had a keen eye. Certainly keener than Sarim’s. Of course, both of them were aware of the fiasco of the morning; you don’t hang out with prostitutes all day and miss out on gossip. All the slaves, snatched by the state. Gil’s lips smacked as he bit the fruit. He supposed that would be upsetting, if you cared for such things. A flash of pity darted through the old conniver’s head. A gross feeling he quickly replaced with smugness. “Not happy that they have to wipe their own arse’s now, ay?” Chomp. For an ex-chevalier, Gil had little allegiance to either side of this riot. He watched with dark glee at the antics, until his companion grew fearful and plastered to Gil’s side. Sarim attempted to drag Gil away from what he wanted again? “You wanted to go shopping,” Gil growled, rolling his eyes and pulling away. “Get busy.” The greasy hustler pocketed a few more fruit pointedly. All bark and no bite, Gil figured he already had enough fines to deal with and was about to turn with Sarim at his side, when suddenly the shattering of glass window beside them caused the old man to flinch and look over. Gil cocked his head as he watched Etain’s face twist, obviously disgusted rather than frightened. He watched her graceful form as she approached a Chevalier, and perked his ears at words that danced from her tongue. Eloquent. Sophisticated. Deadly. He let out a slow whistle. That woman didn’t demand respect, she carried it. Almost made him ignore the fact that she was about to bury a knife in someone’s neck. “Why don’t you talk to me like that?” Gil grinned a Cheshire cat grin, taking a final bite of the fruit before tossing it in exchange for a blade from the ground. He spun the knife in his teke, eyes never leaving Etain. “Too busy trying to get me to buy you jewelry?”
WC: 672 Post: 1 |
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Post by FaunaFawn on Jul 2, 2018 19:44:02 GMT -6
DeidraFuck Aodh The smoke filled the air from the fire and she watched as the sudden act of violence seemed to awaken the citizens of Aodh. She felt their anger, heard their battle cries and she flourished in it. Dedira remained where she was, watching as many lept into battle, taking down Chevaliers, others began to steal and brake down store fronts. Good, she mused to herself. This was what she wanted, to start a riot. Talk was cheap, actions always spoke louder then words.
A part of her perhaps should be sad she was destroying this beloved city, yet when the King allowed her cousin to die for a crime that he did not commit, only to be consumed by a dragon. Well her thoughts on this grand city, reminded her what a shit hole this really was. Ears pinned back as she heard the shouts of chevaliers, calling for back up, anything to end this chaos.
Oh but it would never end for this city. It was best to end it all, burn it all down. She had have no shame in watching it fall under the new Kings rule. Let him suffer as he had allowed many to suffer under his short reign. Deidra prayed he'd spot her in a crowd and now he done this to himself.
Grabbing her spear once more, she aimed it at the ground on front of marching chevaliers, the ground erupted in flames before them as she sneered. "Tell your King, we want what belongs to us back" she snarled. Slamming her spear down once more, she took aim at a building watching it crack and sizzle as it erupted in flames. Anger held her, as she planned on destroying this damnable city. They took her slaves, slaves that would be dead in a weeks time with the work of a labor slave. To hell with all of this. Deidra snarled using her light blessing to momentarily blind a chevalier, before taking her whip, and wrapping it around his neck, bringing him down to his knees. "I am not here to make compromises or deals." she snarled allowing the chevalier to gasp for a breath before she released the tension in the whip and slamming a hoof to their head knocking them out.
WC:380 | Post #2 |
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Post by promsong on Jul 2, 2018 20:01:57 GMT -6
| | JASMINE MONEY, POWER, GLORY POST # 3 | WORD COUNT 239 | SONG | MOODBOARD |
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he city streets were flooded with horses. Angry, violent, citizens who wanted nothing more than the justice they deserved. While Jasmine was no longer in the middle of it all, she could hear it from inside the bank. She shoved crystal after crystal, shard after shard, into the bags until they were as full as can be. Heaving the two large bags up the large staircase of the bank, she huffed and took a moment to breathe. Just 6 more steps. She counted each one as she made her way up them, trying to stay focused. She was intelligent, cunning, and clever, yet she had the strength of a hamster. However, she was also determined. It wasn't long before she finally made it up those damn stairs and was dragging the bags to the nearest window. It faced the city street, so it was perfect. Jasmine turned around and kicked with her back legs, the glass shattering. She gained a few scrapes on her hocks and fetlocks, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. With the window "open", the bags beside her, she heaved one up and let the shards pour out onto the front steps of the bank. They rolled down those marble stairs and poured into the dusty street. Each clink was music to her ears and she stuck her head out to watch them fall. After the bag was empty, she began to release the next. ISHY of THQ & ADOXOGRAPHY |
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Post by astrumnauta on Jul 3, 2018 5:55:18 GMT -6
Hawthorne | Aodh Commoner
Hawthorne was woken harshly at an ungodly hour, the mare had quite enjoyed unemployment since Ragnarok had left, before she could reach the door 3 Chevaliers stood in her door way "Get out of my property you haven't been invited in - Chevaliers don't enter properties unasked unless somebody is hiding something - Now out with you you fiends. Father would not be happy with you conducting yourselves this way."
When the chevaliers didn't leave she arched a brow and squared up to them, as much as she wished she was in her armor to look at least a little bit more threatening than she did, she gritted her teeth and squared up to them
"Out"
She demanded striking one of her hooves on her marble floor, They still didn't move and the one at the front spoke whilst the two behind him looked as if they were about to piss themselves.
"We are here on the order of the king to remove any and all slaves from your possession to be used elsewhere"
Hawthorne flattened her ears, "There are no slaves here, I can look after myself, now I suggest you turn tail and leave before your superiors hear about this, you should be ashamed you're training hasn't taught you a thing - go back to training and learn some bloody manners"
She pinned her ears and pushed the door closed barring it, barbaric animals. She flared her nostrils and walked into an adjoining room slipping into her armor and sighing as she felt whole again, it was then the chevaliers decided to burst through the barred door and she glared at them "We have a problem fellas, when a lady tells you to remove yourself from her property - you are to do so. I have no slaves here, you may search the house but i warn you you are gonna get a serious punishment for not only breaking and entering but also for coming into the house of a lady and just making yourself at home - get out once you've finished looking and put the bloody door back on its hinges when you've finished"
She pushed past one of the younger chevaliers and looked at him, shaking her head and looking out her door to see the crowds forming she decided she would follow, her Devil bird was circling ahead of her and she pushed her way though the crowds her horned helmet giving her some leverage If the king wanted a fight he so had one on his hands.
The scene that met her int he town square was one of chaos she stretched her muscles and smiled to herself this would be fun She watched shards tumble from the banks windows, horses using their gifts against the chevaliers and smoke was rising this was definitely not the civilized Aodh she was used to Oh dear she thought. She saw a mare with a flaming spear and she was to put it lightly impressed, very sassy.
She meandered through the fight using her head to headbutt anybody who got to close to her, and striking out when needs be she was in the middle of the fray when a chevalier came for her a sword swinging she lifted her head and struck out with her two front legs connecting with the chevaliers leg and using her helmet to block the swing from the sword, it had been ages since she had a good fight and damn was she enjoying herself.
She was parrying and making false moves and sweeping legs from under the horses than ran for her, quietly humming and remaining calm doing the job that needed to be done - the job that came so easily to her.
Post One -- Word Count: Six Four Five -- Notes: Late to the party as always! Apologies! Super chill Hawthorne! Looking forwards to this guys! |
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Post by Diregull on Jul 3, 2018 12:34:52 GMT -6
Sarim
If you don't love me then I ain't gonna give it up
How the hell could Gil be so calm in a situation like this? And so... disgusting. Sarim's entire muzzle twisted as he watched Gil pick up pieces of fruit from the ground and start munching on them, fruit spittle foaming his lips. Dear Ignacio, Sarim vowed to charge him if Gil thought he would get a kiss in, and Sarim pinned his ears back, snorting at the very idea. As suspected, Gil did not have any sympathy for the riot, instead commenting about how everyone was going to have to wipe their own asses from now on. Sarim rolled his eyes, flicking his tail against Gil's flank in annoyance.
"I'm not here to discuss politics, and I definitely did not come here to die, so can we just go before someone notices me?" Normally the idea of Sarim getting noticed would be absolutely titillating, but as he watched Omar's pet wolf tear into a Chevalier's leg, Sarim knew that he did not want to be caught dead here... or alive. He really just wanted to go.
Which of course meant that Gil would take what little safety Sarim was clinging to and rip it out from under his hooves. Gil moved away, sneering at him to go shopping. Sarim's heart swooped into his stomach, something unpleasant, like a free fall with no landing, and Sarim stamped his front hoof and growled, somehow over the shouts of Chevaliers falling to attacks and knives whistling in the air. "If you want me to ever get back in bed with you, you're going to--" Glass shattered beside them, and Sarim let out a scream, rearing back and avoiding the rain of glass. He moved back into Gil's shadow, watching as a unicorn with horns that swirled in the tightest patterns of black and white spoke. Well, truthfully, he wasn't really watching Etain until Gil spoke, practically swooning over her as he purred in her direction, as if Sarim had nothing on her. Sarim looked at her with a critical eye: commoner, unicorn, completely uninteresting, yet Gil thought she was better than the perfection Sarim was? That her measly threats had anything over the ways Sarim could make Gil bend if Gil would let him? Red crept into Sarim's vision, having little to do with the fire Diedra was starting. "You absolute cur," Sarim hissed, lacing his voice with the anger bubbling in him. He pawed the ground, half debating on charging Gil when the sound of shards hitting marble steps caught his ears, and he whipped his head around just to see shards spilling out of the bank, a waterfall of riches tumbling down. Temporarily distracted, Sarim rushed over to where Jasmine had committed the bank heist, dodging rushing rioters and angry Chevaliers as he began to scoop up as many of the shards as possible, cursing the fact that he only had a tiny saddlebag with him. Gil was no longer paying attention to Sarim. On the stone steps Sarim was able to piece together more of the chaos-- Diedra raining literal fire down, a white shire arriving on the scene to sweep more Chevaliers off their hooves, and the shops being raided and pilfered. As Sarim tried to figure out the best way to get home and tell Gil to fuck off all at the same time, a shout from some indiscernible direction made him yelp and back up, just for a heart-tipped bow and a sling of arrows to land at his hooves. Sarim looked to Gil, still making goo-goo eyes at the unattractive unicorn. He looked to the bow and arrows on the ground. Sarim picked up the bow with his golden teke, slung the arrows awkwardly around his neck, and pointed the bow at Gil. He tried to knock an arrow, and drew it back with what meager strength he had. Several things happened all at once. For one, the bow was enchanted. This was not apparent until Sarim drew an arrow back, and the heart-shaped tip crackled in electricity, sparks dancing around the end of the bow and jumping onto Sarim's face. Two, Sarim's strength could barely hold the arrow notched, so almost as soon as he had the arrow in place, he could only aim for half a second before being forced to let go of the bow string. Three, Sarim held said bow and arrow too close to his face, and felt the arrow's shaft nick his cheek on the way out. Blood dripped down his cheek as Sarim let out a pitiful cry, immediately dropping the weapon and crouching to rub his cheek against his front limbs. Hopefully Gil would feel the stupid arrow in his ass for this, as Sarim's golden fur became stained with drops of red. (Post 2 | 790) |
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Post by firebirdfalling on Jul 3, 2018 13:13:35 GMT -6
♛ Her knives glanced off of armor as she ran towards the Chevilar she had spotted, zeroing in on their bright shining beacon that separated them from the rest of the masses. Galloping at full speed, with murderous intent in her eyes, it seemed they could sense her coming and they whipped around, eyes widened and full of fear.
Before she could exact some pain, an arrow came wizzing past, almost brushing her nose in the process. It sparked with lethal lightning, crackling and scorching her before wheeling past in a shower of sparks. What in Ignacio-
Skidding to a stop, she whipped her head around, looking for the culprit, the chevilar long forgotten already, having swept up in the crowd of citizens roiling around them.
She spotted a delicate looking courtesan and another, probably the courtesan's companion. Not that it makes a difference, you started it buddy. Rania snarled, turning to make her way over to the courtesan who was busy rubbing his face on his legs. She moved into a canter and started to aim one of her knives at him, then released. She wasn't aiming at his body, no she was going for the legs, so he couldn't run away. He needed to be taught a lesson, since you don't get away with shooting an arrow at her without getting something deadly in return.
Post #2 | WC: 226 | Rania: Mob Boss ulla |
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Post by Spectre on Jul 3, 2018 15:54:05 GMT -6
Zenia;Adoh | Architect
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned"
It was absolute chaos and Zenia was surprised she could keep up with all the spit, blood, and fire being thrown about. She was getting older, but not enough that she couldn't bash chevaliers upside the head.... Or give them a few more holes.
Zenia cursed as she clashed with the chevalier, it was apparent who had the better training. Sparks flew as the blades clashed. The chevalier with a deadly accuracy and Zenia only barely blocking.
It was then the chevalier made a quick turn and the blade of his spear sliced across the base of Zenia's neck.
Zenia backed off with a wince and Ace took over. The doberman dashing parallel to the spear and sank his teeth into the base of the soldier's neck. The soldier howled as blood spilled down from the wounds. Ace growled as the soldier tried to shake him off. Zenia huffed, as much as she enjoyed the show, murdering a chevalier wasn't on that list. With a whistle, Ace released his hold and dashed to Zenia's side, growling as the Chevalier dashed away in pain, blood dribbling as he went.
It was at this moment the chestnut finally responded. Zenia turned her head and frowned under the scrutinizing aqua gaze of the stallion. She rolled her pink eyes at his words. "I'll try. Just don't get injured, I don't think we have any doctors around." As she finished another chevalier came out of the mess, announced by two sets of growls. Glancing down, wide eyes looked at the wolf growling alongside the doberman. With a wicked smirk, Zenia pointed her spear and lunged. The two dogs dashing into action.
Ace on the front, Jarl in the back. Zenia clashed with the chevalier and growled. "Give him back you bastards. I don't care about compensation, give me back my family!" With her words she lunged froward again, this time with a new ferocity.
"And I will wrend this city apart until I find him."
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Post by Moose-On-Ice on Jul 3, 2018 16:20:09 GMT -6
Slashing and attacking with brute strength, Omar shoved the chevalier back farther and farther, making their hooves scramble under their feet to try and keep standing from the force of the blows. He'd tire himself out going at it like this, but there was no other way to let Aodh know of his fury. Omar let out a dry, harsh laugh. "Getting injured is part of the job, I'm afraid, but I'll try my best not to let it be too severe!" He shouted back to the mare who had joined him. He could not remember a battle where he had left with not a single scratch on his pelt. Perhaps it was in part to his fighting style, but if it was only scratches and nicks, he could bear it easily. He already felt a few thin stinging lines across his shoulders from where he had been scratched by weapons--be it chevalier or other, frenzied Aodhians. That was, until an arrow struck one of his haunches.
Letting out a roar once it struck, his leg shook, kicking out without his permission from the electricity, letting the chevalier get the upper hand. For a moment that was. A slash across his cheek left him snarling, reeling in pain. Omar let loose another blast of fire from his mouth, forcing the chevalier to retreat, crying like the first who had unfortunately had their chestplate melted by the heat. Then Omar turned, looking at his hindquarters, teeth set in a bared snarl. Snapping off the arrow shaft and leaving the arrowhead in for the time being, his sharp gaze searched the chaos for a bow wielder.
There. Crouched on the ground like a pitiful whelp, with a bow and arrows at their feet. Stretching his hind leg slightly to test his range of movement, he adjusted his grip on his sword before launching forward, charging at the suspect. Shouting, Omar jumped forward, bodyslamming the thin little horse, his hooves landing on the bow and snapping it. "What the BLOODY FUCKIN' HELL do you think you're DOING?" He roared, stamping forward, shoving his way into their space, his sword pointed at his head. "Who's side are you FUCKIN' on? If you don't know how to use a gods damned weapon, don't FUCKIN' use it! If you can't help US, don't be here, for Kaia's sake, we don't need useless pieces of Apana shite who try to turn on us, when we're here trying to HELP!" He puffed, smoke and sparks flying from his nostrils.
"Man the FUCK up and help us, or fuckin' leave. And if you even THINK to say that you are in support of the government right now, I guarantee you that this sword ain't for gods-fucking-show! I swear on Kaia and Ignacio's name, I should kick your ass right here for that little stunt, but because I'd rather use what energy I have on more fuckin' serious opponents, you're getting a TASTE of mercy!" He snapped, punching him in the shoulder with his front hoof, his eyes burning coals, staring down at the other. Stupid fuckin' why pick up a goddamned weapon if you didn't know how to use it properly! At least if he'd picked up a knife, he could probably hit a target without hitting anyone else. But no, he picked up a fucking bow of all things. Kaia above!
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Post by inke-ri on Jul 4, 2018 7:49:05 GMT -6
Airita | Commoner (Merchant)
She had fallen asleep at the casino again.
With Asalah gone - gods, gone - to Serora, "overworked" didn't quite cover Airita's state since she had left. Caring Asalah, of course she would go if they had asked that of her... And now, Airita had been stuck looking after her sister's-but-also-kind-of-hers business, making all those big decisions that really, shouldn't been hers to make. She was supposed to mostly work with money and the employees! They had purchased a fair number of slaves, gave the whole place a new look, and re-opened a few months before. Everything had been working fine... Until Asalah left. Now, Airita had to shoulder all of that work on her own, on top of taking care of Pel'ciri and Cin'ciri alongside Evalynn. It was just too much.
So it was with a yelp that she woke up the following morning at the yells and muffled shouts of the horses that had worked for them. Racing down the stairs, she was met with the last few of her slaves being herded away from the casino as this chevalier she had never seen before explained they were being taken - confiscated really - by the government... For some reason. There was Yvonne, Bahren, Fran and... Galti. The young wingless pegasus had become one of her closest friends, a slave from Talori who would never disclose what had he done to warrant such punishment.
"They've taken Obidias and Barbara!" He called as he was herded away. Airita had cried pushed and might have set fire to someone's mane when her hooves ignited out of stress, but they were quickly taken away from her. "Wait! WAIT!" She yelled after them, but none stopped to listen. They were acting on orders of King Isador and that was it.
Clenching her teeth, Airita stomped back to her office, looking for the papers of ownership of each slave. Damn Ragnarok, wherever he was. She had never been sure if Obidias, Rags' old bartender, had been purchased by him or not - he had been given an unusual amount of freedom, and Ragnarok conveniently died before he could let them know. Obidias was a silent old man who was just... Always there, bartending as usual, never one for talking. Neither Airita nor Asalah ever felt like telling him to do anything else. As for his daughter Barbara, well, she'd just wink at her and mutter a sultry "wouldn't you like to know" as usual.
And now that little shit had just been taken out to work herself to death, literally, in the Dark District! Airita wondered if she had been a slave after all. The Chevaliers wouldn't dare to take a citizen of Aodh without the proper knowledge right? Even if they were caught up in the mess...
Grunting, Airita slammed a drawer shut, wondering where the hell was Moniqu-
Oh. Oh no.
Barely stopping to lock the casino's doors, Airita raced across Valore, pausing only when she reached her home- and because she had forgotten her keys. Knocking non-stop, Airita was met with her niece, Cyrene. She looked at her with wide eyes. "Where are them?" Airita asked in a whisper. Cyrene shook her head, looking at the ground. "The- the chevaliers..."
No. No. Not her shy, soft spoken assistant, not Brutus, not-
Airita and Asalah had made a habit of buying slaves that weren't particularly the best, or too submissive. Instead, more often than not, they chose to rescue the ones that would likely end up in the Dark District, and trained them in whatever job they needed to so, acting as though they were workers rather than slaves- a side effect of growing up in Talori and never adjusting fully to the idea of owning a slave.
And now they were as good as dead!
Tears of anger stung Airita's eyes. In an impulse, she grabbed the damascus blade she had gotten from her last trip to War Forged herd and strapped it to her leg. Cyrene was still in the living room, looking worriedly at her aunt. "Some people said there were horses going to protest at the square... You're not going there right auntie?"
Airita sighed and struggled to soften her voice. "I don't know. I have to at least try to get them back. Keep an eye on the boys for me, will ya?" Leaning down, she kissed Cyrene's forehead before taking to the streets. She hadn't walked much when a group of Chevaliers in tight formation almost knocked the mare to the ground. "Move it!" The one in the lead snarled to her. Airita had just enough time to see a flash of determined eyes before the young-looking slave was taken away.
Just like Monique, Galti, Barbara and so many others Airita had begun to call family...
"Bastards!" A familiar voice called behind her.
"Alarik?" Airita turned to see that yes, it was indeed the chestnut stallion she had occasionally worked with. Blood was dripping from his muzzle. "Froth and bubbles, they got you too?" She asked, padding closer to him without taking her eyes off the Chevaliers, who were already barging into another shop. Scared and furious voices soon came out of the dark shop.
868 words | Post 1
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Post by NorthernMyth on Jul 5, 2018 1:48:09 GMT -6
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Alarik | MerchantPost 2
Word Count: 632
He could already hear chaos brewing outside. Things were getting smashed and pushed over. Buildings were on fire and an all-out battle had already started between the Chevaliers and half a horde of Commoners and Merchants alike. Alarik grabbed a rag off the counter. Not really caring what it was for nor what it had on it. “Alarik?” The stallion pricked his ears at his name. His head turned quickly to see Arita standing in the doorway. “Arita, What in Ignacio's name is going on?!” His voice filled with irritation and borderline anger as he pressed the rag to his nose. “Raynon’s going to kill me!” The rag already starting to soak through. “Why are they taking the slave!” His voice beginning to get airless and panicked. The stallion could hear his heartbeat throbbing in his ears, Chest screaming. Before feeling lightheaded. His legs tapered back, forcing himself to sit on the spot. His head filled with horrors of what would happen to Mosaic. He may never see her again. If Arita was saying anything he wouldn’t have heard her. Her voice would be muffled and distant.
There was a scratch and a thud from upstairs. The door banged and swung open before a bombardment of claws and heavy paws basically leaped down the stairs. A white ball of fluff tangled around the stallion's legs and licked his face. Kigo attempted to distract his owner. Alarik couldn’t help but notice the pup as he jumped all over him, pushing his panic away for a moment. He began to pet at the pup with his Teke. Pushing him down and rubbing at his ears and face. His breathing slowed a little regaining sense over the matter. His eyes glanced up at the mare. “Did they get yours too?” his lips pursed. “They said something about orders of the King. That …” He stopped himself from calling profanities. Anger wasn’t the easiest of emotion for the chestnut but his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched. “We need to do something.” His voice whined. Pushing himself off the floor for the second time. At this point, the rag was covered and soaked through with blood but it wasn’t gushing like before, rather just slowly dripping. He looked around for another as blood pooled around his lips. An Iron tinge tainting his taste buds and red staining his teeth. “I’m sorry you have to see such a mess.” The stallion apologies to the stocky mare. He walked behind the counter. Grabbing at another cloth.
Alarik had seen the Damascus Blade strapped to Arita’s leg. He reached out to a small hole in the floor, his teke pulling at the board before it popped up. Inside sat an older looking longsword. Although old. It was well polished and taken care of. The hilt was black and upon the top of the handle was a dragon’s head, finely carved out of a ruby. The blade itself was solid steel beautiful imagery was etched into its surface. Alarik looked up at the mare. “It’s Ray’s but its the best sword we got. I don’t know how to use it. But I’ve heard swinging it helps.” His lips frowned. “Do you think we’ll need to use them?” The stallion aimed his question towards the blade that sat against her leg. He was getting thoughts back to the crucible. It was the first time he had actually met Arita. But it was also the last time he held a sword for his own defense, he killed a Vindicator after cutting his throat. He had nightmares for months after and he wasn’t sure he could handle that again. His green Teke wrapped around the blade, pulling it for its hiding place and taking a few seconds to place it on his harness.
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Post by brittlewren on Jul 5, 2018 3:27:18 GMT -6
ÉTAÍN
Gods she wished she had a blessing in that moment. She wanted to watch that Chevalier moron squirm without having to get close to him but she was here in Valore, disadvantaged and rallying against the idiots who were unable to fathom the consequences of confiscating the possessions of the people. The dagger would suit well enough for the job, and was far easier and more familiar to handle. She leapt at the stallion, teke twisting the blade towards the soft, exposed skin behind his elbow. A grunt from the equine motioned that it hit its mark, and she twisted it for good measure. He swung at her, pivoting around with glittering sword in teke. Shit. Skittering away, her eyes darted over the stallion's larger frame. The cut was obviously insufficient - he was still trying to slice her with that darkened sword.
A long whistle resonated from behind the quarreling pair, and dancing around the chevalier she raised at brow at who she could only assume to be the purpetrator - a sleazy man with a stupid grin plastered across his fat lips. His pale companion was interesting from what she saw of them before they darted away. "You going to keep fondling that knife-" The chevalier jabbed at her and she leapt away, coiling her tail over her as she rushed to slice the dagger under the brute's cheeks. "Or you going to use it?" She watched the chevalier splutter as blood dripped from the cut on his neck, gaze flicking back to meet the seedy dun's gaze, as if to challenge him.
An equine pushed past her, rushing with others towards the other side of the courtyard. Distracted, she watched equines squabble over shards as they cascaded down the main steps of the bank. That could be useful. The chevalier's blade sliced across her cheek, and she squealed, reeling back a few paces. How fucking dare you. Fuelled by rage, she barrelled straight into his chest, driving the dagger into him. Yanking the blade from his flesh, she darted away once more, disgusted and with her cheek throbbing. He would be a fool to keep fighting. Regardless, she was done with him. Twisting away as the Chevalier gathered himself, she bared her teeth, blood dribbling from her cheekbone. "Tell your king to give us back our fucking labor."
Distancing herself from them, she surveyed the events unfolding. Shops were being ravaged, shards were being poured down the bank's main steps by a dark unicorn, and chevaliers were doing their best to fight off angry citizens. That pale unicorn companion was wimpering on the marble steps, with a large chestnut roaring over him and what looked like another preparing to throw knives at them. She scoffed, eying the cat-calling dun. "Pathetic little thing."
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Post by SaintPumpkinMuffin on Jul 7, 2018 16:01:16 GMT -6
Gil
"Careful what you wish for!" Gil called after Etain as she was reabsorbed back into a whirlwind of violence. So distracted was Gil, he missed Sarim slip off to the bank, and notch an arrow. The magic electricity caused the stallion's short mane to puff up in tufts as it flew crookedly through the air... and right into some hulking stallion's asscheek. Gil lowered the sword in his teke and lifted a knee to muffle the snort of laughter that tried to escape his fat mouth. He stepped aside to let Omar surge back towards Sarim, bowing in comedic effect.
As the huge draft reamed dainty Sarim out, Gil found himself disturbed by the courtesan's wilted frame.
But the yipping of the dogs and the cry of wounded chevaliers drew Gil back. He noted now that close behind Omar, Rania was preparing her teke with knives. His eyes met Etain's, and he heard her silver words slip again.
Pathetic little thing.
She had no idea.
Quicker than any chainsmoker should be, Gil pulled up his sword and swung to knock away Rania's knives. He was pleasantly surprised to note the burst of light that grew like a shield from the hilt, spiraling out and making his job a lot easier. Not that he needed the extra help. Or at least that's what he told himself.
"I would worry about actual threats, if I were you," Gil purred, but his face was less than happy in that moment.
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Post by promsong on Jul 8, 2018 12:52:05 GMT -6
| | JASMINE MONEY, POWER, GLORY POST # 4 | WORD COUNT 303 | SONG | MOODBOARD |
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ost of the shards had taken their fall down the marble steps by that point, Jasmine eagerly shaking them out of the bag. Several horses had quickly pooled at the bottom of their steps and were shoving as many shards as they could into their pockets and saddle bags. She felt like Robin Hood, even though she mostly did this simply to screw over rich people. Jasmine didn't do many things purely out of the goodness of her heart. Her eyes caught the golden coat of a familiar figure, though, and she focused in on him. Sarim. And of course, he seemed to have gotten into trouble. There was nothing about the situation she was witnessing from the window that surprised her one bit. Seeing that he was about to get his head chewed off by another stallion, she sighed softly and cantered out of the building to his aid. Her pace quickened as hoof met chest, now actually worried for her friend. She felt responsible for him, almost, even if they hadn't known each other for very long. Skidding to a stop beside him, she placed herself ever so slightly in between them. "You're not going to kick anyone's ass but the chevaliers' who took away our family," she interrupted, looking up at him. There was anger in her eyes, but not at him, at the King. The very King who was supposed to do what was best for his people, yet instead stole their slaves. Jasmine was someone who knew everyone, even if she only knew a little about them. Knowledge was power, and oh how she loved her power. "He's dumb, but means no harm," she continued. It was a little jab at Sarim's less than safe stunt since she knew she couldn't let him get away with it completely. ISHY of THQ & ADOXOGRAPHY |
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Post by Diregull on Jul 8, 2018 17:39:22 GMT -6
♔ If you don't love me
then I ain't gonna give it up How everything continued to go so wrong for Sarim when he had literally never done anything wrong in his entire life baffled him, especially in the chaos that unfolded as soon as he had loosened the heart-shaped arrow from its beautiful bow.
It was too late that Sarim realized, all at once, that his arrow had not found its intended mark, as Gil's twinkle of amusement was the last image that Sarim held in his mind before all the breath was knocked out of him, rammed into with such brute strength and force and the acrid taste of smoke in his mouth that Sarim was convinced that a train had fallen off its tracks. His spine hit the steps first just before the back of his head did, blossoming pain from the back of his skull as he struggled to get a breath back into his lungs, or squirm from the angry hot mass of whatever-the-fuck had just decided to ruin his day.
"What the BLOODY FUCKIN' HELL do you think you're DOING?"
Loud. Angry, loud, yelling. And more smoke, and-- oh, oh no. The stallion currently huffing and puffing and holding an Ignacio-damned sword to his beautiful face was the same stallion that Sarim had desperately hoped to avoid during this entire confrontation. His eyes blazed in unholy, righteous fury, sparks flying from him, and as Sarim tried to choke something out from his muzzle, he found himself wheezing and sucking in a breath instead.
He really should have never gotten out of bed today. Just before Sarim could circle and dive into the despair that so called to him, he noticed Omar raising his front hoof, and with expert squirming, Sarim managed to roll just enough that the hoof slammed down inches away from his shoulder, brushing his gemstones and making them twitch along his neck. His insides froze to ice, limbs pressed tight against his belly before Sarim realized the position he was in.
He made people pay to make him feel this helpless.
Sarim bristled, perfectly plucked eyebrows drawing over his violet eyes as his nostrils flared as he spat in Omar's face, "Bastard! If any part of your stupid hissy fit hurt my horns or gems, I am going to find you and sue you of every single shard it takes to repair them! I'm an Ignacio-gifted courtesan, and I can bet your ass that one hair of my body is worth more than any from your fat ass, so I swear to all the gods that if you don't let go of me right this fucking instant--"
Before Sarim could try to cobble a threat together from his hysterical ranting, Jasmine's voice cut through his speech. While he had to crane his neck and could only look at her beautiful figure upside-down, Sarim let out a breath, relief flooding his insides and cooling the white hot panic. At least, until he heard her call him stupid. Sarim shot her a frown upside-down, managing to lash his tail beneath Omar.
"I'm not dumb!" Sarim whined. "At least I'm not dumb enough to tackle innocent bystanders who didn't do anything wrong!" Sarim glared at Omar again, and tried to press his hind hooves into Omar's stomach. "Get off me and listen to Jasmine! She's got more sense than you do, and maybe she won't sue you too!" The self-assured smirk that Sarim wore on his muzzle did not go well with his heaving chest or the thin line of blood on his cheek, but he did truly believe that he had the upper hand here, what with Jasmine now coming to his aid.
If only he had known that Gil was still defending him, maybe Sarim wouldn't have tried to shoot an arrow in his ass. Right now all he could think about was suing the big oaf of a stallion above him and finding Gil and reaming him until Gil apologized profusely and kissed the ground he stood on.
Well, Sarim could hope.
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Post by Moose-On-Ice on Jul 8, 2018 20:16:57 GMT -6
Hissy fit? Kaia above, the Aodhians were such flimsy pieces of crap! In Onea this would have been simply a small squabble, if even that! Still, the sudden spitting from the one beneath him drew a laugh out of him, deep and booming, his face forming into a wide grin. "Hope you like getting literally a handful of shards and nothin' more, I ain't exactly the rich type! It ain't anything new to me if I'm back at square fuckin' one with nothing to my name except my sword and my family." He turned his shoulder some to expose his brand to make a point, before continuing. "And I don't give a FUCK if you're a courtesan, boy, the hell does a title like that mean to me? At least I got someone who loves my 'fat ass' without a pay wall blocking their view of it! When people paid for my 'fat ass' during my time in fuckin' chains, I was worth enough to buy your services ten times over! You know how much people pay for a slave with my physical properties? Probably more than you'd make in a week, boy!" He snarled, lashing his tail and shifting his weight to give his injured leg a bit of a break. He almost felt bad bringing Demetrius into this, as well as bringing up his history...
Jerking his head up, Omar stared at the new equine standing between him and the other. He backed up a single step, ears flattened, gaze locked on the new mare. He'd GLADLY go kick the fuckin' Chevaliers, once this punk ass brat apologized and swore never to pick up a bow again. Snorting, he scoffed. "Means no harm my injured ass." He muttered under his breath. "You seem to know him, tell him to fucking apologize and then get his ass outta here if he won't do any good other than shooting anyone who's not a chevalier in the ass. I'll gladly turn my attention back to the fuckers at hand if he does." His gaze darted to the courtesan, rolling his eyes. Not dumb. Yeah. Right. "Listen here, Princess Shitsparkle," he lowered his head, staring him in the eyes, "'at least I'm not dumb enough to pick up a weapon I don't know fuck all about using and actually fire it, hurting myself in the process.'" With that he reached out with his teke swiping the dripping blood off of Sarim's cheek and throwing it to the side with a growl.
"Sue me if you fucking want. I already told you I don't have shit for you to take. I've already had twelve years of my life taken from me, what do you think you could take from me that would be worse than that?" He snorted, smoke fluttering from his nostrils. Lifting his head back up he lowered his sword and rested the tip of it on the ground. Fuck, the wasted energy from using his blessing was starting to catch up on him. As was the arrow hit. Gods be damned. If the Palasa sanctum was still standing- A surge of anxiety and fear shot through him. Fucking shit, the Palasa sanctum was in this fucking district... Kaia, Ignacio, he prayed quietly that the Flamen and the attendants would be able to keep the building standing and keep his daughter safe...
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Post by FaunaFawn on Jul 9, 2018 8:57:26 GMT -6
DeidraFuck Aodh A hiss escaped her lips as she felt something slice through her skin, she wasn't sure where it came from, but it made her look around all the more and there she found a large group of Aodhians.... Squinting out to them she realized they were arguing among themselves. For fucks sake, not even the pampered palace pets could Riot right. This city deserved to burn down she thought with the utmost distaste. Lips curled in a snarl as she looked to the group.
"Perhaps if you are done squabbling among yourselves, we can get back at hand at whats truly important here then egos." she rolled her eyes at them. Pathetic this lot, acting and fighting between themselves. Easy chevalier bait to have the rioters argue among themselves. Buying chevaliers the time to regroup. As she turned her head, well it seemed the fools have managed to do that, out form the smoke came a large group of chevaliers their shields together as they forced the rioters back. They regrouped and had a chance to form a fucking wall to push them back. They were going to regain control of the district. Deidra shook her head with anger.
"Congrats, hope you all have the money to get out of jail or can talk your way out of getting eaten by a dragon after this." she grumbled as she took out her spear and aimed it at the ground before the chevaliers, she would not be a murdered and condemn her life as such. Fire erupted from the line she hit before a few of chevaliers hoping to stop their pushing forwards. "Any bright ideas?" she called out to the group.
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Post by inke-ri on Jul 9, 2018 10:52:51 GMT -6
Airita - Commoner (Merchant)
Airita shook her head. "The Chevaliers are taking our slaves to the Dark District, it seems... Alarik? Alarik!" She called his name a couple times, but the horse was clearly too agitated to listen. Instead, Airita sighed and waited for him to calm down enough, flicking her tail anxiously as she looked out of the shop and into the street outside. The Chevaliers seemed to be moving further away, but the noise from the square was getting louder and louder.
A thud brought her back to the present, and Airita took a step back as... something came bounding their way. Oh. Oh, right, he had a dog. "Yes," the mare nodded. "There are people gathering in the square, though... I'm not sure if 'gathering' is the right word for it given the noise they're making- hmm? Oh, don't worry about it." Airita shrugged, as Alarik got a new rag to stop his bleeding. "I've seen much worse so. yea. You sure you up for it?" It probably wouldn't be wise (or healthy) of him to go to what sounded more like a riot than anything with a bleeding injury.
As if in response, Alarik walked behind the counter, coming back with what was clearly a sword. Airita flicked her ears in worry and eyed the sword warily. "Yea, hm, I've heard the same. Just make sure I'm not within range, 'kay?" She sighed as he strapped the blade to its harness. "Do you want the honest answer or the comforting one? Because from the sound of things..." The merchant shuddered. "Just... Let's hope for the best. Come on, we're out of time."
She led the way out of the shop, almost galloping towards the square. Though silent, her thoughts were racing. Airita still remembered the last time she was caught up in such a mess- it was during the attack on the Crucible, and, young and scared, she had been so freaked out by the blalant use of blessings and magic that even simple telekinesis would later make her freeze up. Really, it hadn't been that long ago, but Airita had come a long way since then... Even though running towards the big riot wasn't the most intelligent idea she ever had. But she had to at least try, horses like Galti or Barbara or Monique wouldn't last a month as labor slaves.
Just as they entered the square, the glass of a store to their left broke apart, a large shard cutting through her cheek as a trio of horses Airita had never seen before raced out carrying a bunch of weapons. "Watch out!" She called to Alarik, pushing him out of the path of the horses. The one in the lead yelled something that would make even Evalynn uncomfortable, alongside various curses at the King. Chevaliers were everywhere, and a full fight seemed to have broken out. Airita even spotted some horses raiding a bank in the middle of the chaos. The leader of the trio of thiefs cursed some more, and, holding a sword he had clearly just taken from the store, ignited it on fire, and threw himself at a Chevalier.
... Great.
The mares following him quickly took imbued weapons of their own and helped their comrade fight the chevalier off. They were carrying so many that some dropped to the ground. Airita shared a look with Alarik, then shrugged and grabbed a shield for herself. Her short knife clearly wouldn't do much in this type of fight unless she was at close range, so some protection might be a good idea. The mare scanned the square, spotting a somewhat familiar pelt in the mass. She had spoken to the mare maybe once, as she was a slave trader, but given how she and Asalah usually picked slaves far different from the type she sold, they were never business partners.
As she had her eye on the mare - Deidra? If she remembered correctly... - she was just able to see the arrow grazing her body before imbedding itself on another horse's haunches. They begun to argue and yell at each other, and Airita was so distracted she almost missed the Chevalier coming at her and Alarik. He thrust with his spear, and Airita yelped, raising the shield to protect herself. Much to her suprise, a bright light shone between them, blinding the horse long enough for her to butt him in the face with the shield. He fell, dazed but not out of it. As if she wasn't sure it had really been her, Airita blinked, then grinned at Alarik. "Nice. Come on!"
She raced towards the white mare, catching her yells at the horses who had been arguing between themselves. "Uhm, guys?" Airita called, pointing at the Chevaliers who had taken that time to regroup. Deidra looked rather pissed as she asked for ideas. Airita looked at her shield for a minute. Bright...? "I could blind them for a moment-" She offered, "But we need a way to break them apart before they can see again." Clearly, this was much worse than a protest. Airita internally sighed and decided it perhaps would have been better to stay at home and try a more diplomatic way of getting her friends back. Oh well, Ignacio help them now.
Post 2 - 886 words
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Post by promsong on Jul 10, 2018 12:57:36 GMT -6
| | JASMINE MONEY, POWER, GLORY POST # 5 | WORD COUNT 232 | SONG | MOODBOARD |
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olling her eyes at Sarim's drama, she sighed loudly and remained between the two men. All of this seemed so unnecessary with what was going on, but she wasn't about to let that kid get speared by Omar. "Apologize, Sarim," she hissed, turning around to give him a stern look. She was not his mom, yet at that moment, she took on the role for his own damn safety. The bigger stallion kept yelling and even she had to stifle a giggle at the nickname he created for Sarim. Oh, she was definitely going to bring that one back. The kerfuffle that had distracted her had not only kept her attention away from the rest of the people rioting but also the Chevaliers who seemed to have banded together. The same dapple mare from earlier was soon yelling at the trio in anger. Rightfully so. She had no intentions of going to prison or seeing the inside of a dragon's stomach. Jasmine was quick to break away from the two men and quickly came over to the woman's side, her mind searching for what they could do. It was not her job to be doing any of this and she could just as easily return home, though she was now fighting for Tess. "I can get them to turn on each other," she commented, beginning to back up as they neared closer. ISHY of THQ & ADOXOGRAPHY |
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Post by astrumnauta on Jul 11, 2018 3:01:22 GMT -6
Hawthorne | Aodh Commoner Hawthorne had been lazily fighting with the chevaliers, she was angry that they were taking the slaves, she didn't agree with having slaves but she understood that others saw them as more than just the help, but as friends and even family.
She swung low and swept the feet from under the chevalier in front of her who roared in anger, she allowed a smug smile on her face, that was until they formed a wall - well that was her fun over boring buggers. She backed off dodging half arsed sword swinging, she retreated close to a group of arguing equines.
She turned her head to look at them one of the was screaming at what looked like a courtesan, she sighed, they can't fight without arguing amongst themselves and one was swearing at a rate of every other word, a smaller mare was between the two telling the courtesan to apologise and a grey mare was asking for ideas and trying to stop the argument too.
"With the wall up you wont be able to get through, obviously. You need to scatter them - their feet are unprotected or you could go over their heads by getting into buildings and attacking from above" She offered her opinion to the grey mare
"You could use your spear to send fire to their feet, it might be enough to break the wall, send somebody heavy in to push shields aside and then everybody can get involved."
Hawthorne looked at the chevaliers advancing, at this moment in time she was glad she left the chevaliers - they were supposed to be honorable and these chevaliers were certainly not.
Post Two -- Word Count: Three Zero Six -- Notes: Sorry for the late replies, i'm moving house and packing for home and packing for a holiday its manic here </3 |
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