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Post by Idiosyncrasea on Jul 26, 2018 16:38:48 GMT -6
Trixie had been so preoccupied, that at first she hadn’t really noticed the kirin stallion sticking his head into the fire… until after she’d heard a few of the others comment on this. Perhaps he really was only disturbing the fire, perhaps it wouldn’t take him since it hadn’t taken him already… but still, he really was offering himself, probably by accident, wasn’t he? If she remembered right, kirins normally didn’t get burned, did they? But this was no ordinary fire... And the idea of someone being burnt alive terrified Trixie.
She took a few quick steps back toward the fire. “Even though the fire hasn’t taken you yet… M-maybe it could still change its mind, and take you sooner or later… So, that’s probably another reason it’s safest to get your head out of there quick, ehehe…”
As anxious as Trixie was, she still never really expected what happened next to actually happen. The worry of living sacrifices had crossed her mind, but she tried not to believe this might actually happen, tried to trust the other witches at least somewhat, tried to believe that there wouldn’t be any murder unless there were cultists hidden among them.
Like many others, Trixie screamed at the horrific sight, and the horrific sounds; she stared for a second before turning away, pressing her ears against her head (though she couldn’t block out any sounds entirely) and galloped off several feet away. And then she stood, shaking hard, and sobbing, though her sobs were drowned out by the commotion around her.
After a few minutes she managed to gulp down her sobs, and worked up the courage to raise her ears and turn to Sicily, though she stayed several feet away.
“Y-you… m-m-murdered her?!” she cried. “Are you really just another hedgewitch, or are you… a c-c-cultist?! And th-this god... actually accepted an equine sacrifice?! Now I really wonder if it’ll turn out to be a bad idea to draw out this god... and I wonder if it’s too late to stop this…” She felt sobs threatening to start bubbling up again, and tried hard to suppress them. And she trembled even more as she started to worry that she shouldn’t have said these things, if she might’ve said things that might provoke someone into trying to push her into the fire too. She wondered if she should flee soon, but she was curious about how others would react to all that had happened, so for now she remained to watch and listen.
WC: 420 | Post: 4
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Jul 29, 2018 6:00:13 GMT -6
Falk - Vagabond - Peddler
It all happens very quickly.
Falk doesn’t think anyone could have intervened, had they wanted to. The pegasus was quick. At most Falk thought there’d be an argument, a fight perhaps, but then there’s the promise -the threat- and then she acts upon it. Her wings open and unfolded like a shield she grabs, and shoves, and the soot covered mare is tossed to the flames. The fire snatches her with greed and glee, like a small child given candy, quick to grab in fear of it being taken away. Falk watches, astonished, mismatched eyes opened wide.
He’s seen something like this before, back at his cradle that was Valore. When his years were much fewer. Barely a teenager. The memory comes to him like in a flash, foreign, as though it belongs to someone else. In a way, it does. He had snuck out to watch a public execution by fire, less so a morbid interest and more so exactly because his grandfather had forbidden him. The why of the punishment was lost upon him, but the how would stick to him for a long time. They’d been tied to a post, there’d been a little speech by a Flamen, and then they burned. But there’d been bones. There had been ash. There had been the horrendous stench, which is right about when Falk had left with churned stomach, hearing of the remains later by enthusiastic peers that raved on and on about it. Ignacio’s fire was filled with theatrics. Now, there were no screams. There was no body turning to a furnace, flesh peeling back like dry parchment, melting off like wax. All it takes is a second, and then she’s gone. Disappeared. As if she was never there. There’s the smell again, he thinks. It’s sweet. He catches it before it goes, swallowed by the sky above. Sweet like rot. Sweet like something dead. And the storm roars its approval, and the fire doesn’t budge. It’s like a living thing.
The screams take a second to pick up.
"So who's next to offer something?" The pegasus asks. The peddler is distinctly aware how she looks into the crowd. He’s also distinctly aware how he’s made himself part of said crowd. He has no weapon. No offensive blessing. No mercenary by his side. Falk hears the word cultist muttered in between sobs. Equine sacrifice. Drawing out a god.
Whatever curiosity he had, it’s been swiftly snuffed out. It’s not so much the murder itself, the injustice of it, it’s the idea of being next. It’s not courage to act, it’s cowardice -it’s common sense- to get the hell away from this. Despite the drink his head is suddenly very clear indeed. His crooked smile is shaky, but he bares teeth and enamel not unlike a snarl when he speaks, “Yeah, alright. Party’s over for me.”
He takes a step, another, and the peddler doesn’t look back when he turns around and makes for the hillside to descend. They’re not going to believe this at home.
He just wanted to listen to some music.
He just wanted to make some money.
WC: 515| Post #5
Summary: Nope, bye.
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Post by Western-Witch on Jul 29, 2018 16:57:29 GMT -6
 Zemora:Vagabond | Hedgewitch
With herbs and potions that comfort and heal, come together and turn the wheel.This is just what Zemora was expecting to happen. Before anyone could do anything an equine sacrifice had been made. Zemora tried to jump in to save the mare, even use her blessing, but it was too late. Her face was stuck in a perpetual scream and then she was gone. Suddenly the whole clearing turned a deep crimson red. The fire violently changed color. The scent of death hung in the air. And then it was gone. All around her hedgewitches were writhing, reacting to what had just happened and the storm above.
Immediately Zemora turned to the bat winged pegasus, inches from her blank face. She wanted to end her right then and there. She did not trust this witch. "Who are you! What are you!?" She howled above the gathering storm. "I do not trust you!" She spat at the ground in front of the mare. Stepping back she gathered herself away from everyone. All around her these other witches seemed like demons and ghosts, running around wildly, screeching into the night. What had she come too?
A ways away Trixie was beyond helping. She sputtered something about Cultists and mentioned that the fire had accepted this offering. She was right the fire had accepted this offering. And meant it would accept more like this. She was not sure what they had welcomed into this world.
"Hedgewitches!" She shouted violently into the crowd. "Who summoned this god?!" They needed to get to the root of this creature.
WC: 250 | Post #6
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Post by Jennycallie on Jul 31, 2018 15:52:07 GMT -6
Florian
Vagabond Outcast
The fire really was strange, Florian thought interestedly, not yet uneasy as they breathed in the life-affirming fumes, their vision dancing saffron and gold. It was not behaving at all like the many other (admittedly more modest) fires they had come across since their… awakening, but it was still a fire. Was still warm, beautiful, glorious.
A touch on their side made Florian turn their head, antlers emerging glittering from the firewall as they peered first at Lilliana, then Zemora. Disgrace a fire? They, a child of Ignacio, disgrace a fire? Florian had drawn themselves up to explain just how impossible and ridiculous such an idea even was, but Zemora’s words stopped them and they stared at her for a heartbeat in surprise, ignoring Sootling. Then her words sunk in and Florian turned to her indignantly, stepping clear of the fire as they regarded the smaller child of Argus.
“Of course the fire accepted me, I am a kirin. We do not,” Florian said, biting off each word, “burn.” What strange creatures this lot turned out to be! Florian suddenly missed Shiann’s presence. She always knew what to say, how to handle these… these others. And when to walk away.
Sicilly joined the conversation and Florian’s bemused gaze traveled to her. A new god? What sort of nonsense was this? There was only one god of fire, and Florian was opening their mouth to explain this when Sicilly shoved the other mare into the flames.
There was a long, deeply wrong period of utter and complete silence around the fire, a moment that trembled on the precipice of a terrible choice. Florian’s eyes had tracked the mare’s fall into the flames, had widened until their pupils were thin, vertical slits, surrounded by fire-reflecting white. Sicilly was talking again, even as the group went into an uproar, mirrored by the strange storm spiraling above- but Florian just stood there, staring sightlessly into the flames that had devoured a child of Argus. Why did this feel so familiar, so terribly right and wrong at the same time? Florian’s memories of their past life were gone, but the empty void was shuddering, resonating in response to the horrible act of violence.
It was horrible. It felt familiar. Why did it feel familiar? It was horrible, why did it feel familiar-
Someone in the crowd jostled them, breaking the spell. Florian drew in a great, shuddering breath that wracked their entire body as they whirled around, antlers knifing through the air as they lowered them defensively in a practiced swoop. They didn’t know what was going on, they didn’t know where they were or who these strange non-kirins were, only that once again there was danger, danger, and their body was reacting with practiced efficiency even as their mind was left confused and wailing.
Only one name whispered feebly to Florian’s fraying mind, and they seized on it even as they continued to wave their antlers defensively at the crowd, plumed tail lashing in and out of the fire they kept instinctively at their back. Shiann, where was Shiann?
Florian’s wild gaze settled on another equine coming up the hill, and they froze. It was not Shiann, it was not a horse at all. Florian’s thundering heart gave another painful surge, but it was one of relief, and fierce joy, and forgotten pain. They were not alone!
“KIRIN! ‘WARE!” Florian trumpeted, afraid for the smaller creature to enter this dangerous mob of murders and heathens.
Florian sank back onto their hocks, and then in one great spring, uncoiled all 16hh of their ungainly frame and plunged down the hill, pushing through the unruly crowd and skidding to a halt at Cecilia’s side. They whirled again, so that their haunches were to hers, protecting her flank as they once more lowered their antlers.
“It is not safe here, child of Ignacio,” Florian said urgently to Cecilia, eyes still wild, breathing ragged. “They seek to blaspheme the Father of Fire, and have already killed.”
Post 3 | 668 words
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Post by gone-astrayy on Jul 31, 2018 23:49:50 GMT -6
Persephone | Bard
Making her way up the hill, about half way, shrieks and screams started to fill the air from the landing above, and the hybrid had to dodge a couple fleeing equines as they bolted. Turning her eyes skyward, she could see shoots of the flames licking high into the sky, a shade darker than fire was supposed to be before it disappeared from her vision again. A voice from above could be heard, asking who else would offer something to the flames.
Common sense told her if there was screaming and running, it'd probably be best for her to run as well, and she could feel a distinct prodding coming from her saddlebags where Koda was, apparently he was all for running as well, even if he didn't know what was going on, though she could say that he was, historically, a coward. However, her hooves kept trotting up the slope, determined to see what was going on. The kirin from earlier rushed past her as she got to the top of the hill, his eyes wide as he launched past her. She tried to call out to him, but he either didn't hear her, or was too spooked by whatever had happened. All around her, there was chaos, and above her, the winds howled, a storm raging above them.
But most curious of all, perhaps, was when she spied the flames from before, they were dancing around, not a care given to the wind that should've, by all means, destroyed or spread the fire. The maelstrom of wind all but deafened Persephone as she moved closer to the fire, the shouting voices all around her turning to white noise.
Stopping in front of the flame with no ashes, she unlatched her bag and pulled her pan flute from it's resting place, before giving it a loving nuzzle and letting it disappear into the flames.
Word count: 315
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Post by Deleted on Aug 1, 2018 7:15:12 GMT -6
With the final offering fed to the flames, the chaotic buzz that had been building in the woods became a roar. While some faces watched the fire in horror, some gaped at the Kirins who strode in its halo, and more still turned their backs, the flames rose in a mighty column, a beacon, building white-hot into the night sky. The black storm that turned overhead swirled with mounting speed, creating a vacuous spiral that seemed to be inhaling the sky. Ferocious winds screamed upward, dragging debris into the tempest's unsettled eye as the climbing column of white light pierced it. The ground felt hollow and unstable under the feet of the gathered crowd, quaking as the flames' towering beacon speared the clouds above and opened the eye of the spinning storm like a lance. Rain didn't fall. The wind was howling too powerfully to hear anything, threatening to pull the horses below into the storm. WHAT YOU MUST THINK OF ME. The voice was not great, not loud, not demanding. The voice was nothing at all. The words simply appeared, unadorned with emotion or implication, in the minds of the gathered mortals. To some of the gathered witches, it was familiar. The beam of shuddering flame began to stabilize, changing from a roiling white-hot light to a column, solidifying into white. The material was hard to determine (wood? stone? it had a particular smoothness, a subtle grain) but what had been fire became solid, swiftly, before the eyes of the gathered hedgewitches.
YOU GATHER IN MY NAME,
AND YOU OFFER ME DEATH.
The wind sighed to a stop, and they watched the stone (wood?) reach the base of the tower. It didn't stop there. The logs under the fire began to petrify, the grass, the dirt, all hardening over in solid, immobile white. It spread. The white grew through the ground, climbed plants, consumed them, turning everything it touched to statuary. As the ground underfoot began to change, you nearly jumped away, but couldn't find the will. The transformation of the earth passed you by, however, leaving you untouched as the forest around you was transformed into... You placed a foot down. Not rock. Not wood. This was a forest made of bone. I CAN BE DEATH.
I CAN BE WHATEVER YOU ASK.
What would you ask? |
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Post by galekxy on Aug 1, 2018 8:08:25 GMT -6
A B E L
Vagabond Bard
... ...
Things were happening. Abel had happily come up here with Cecilia, interested in seeing what was going on. Many of the horses from the gathering had come over too. The hedgewitches were gathered, and in front of them was a fire.
Objects were being offered into the flames. The young bard wasn't sure if the objects held any value, but his mind flickered to his fiddle. He would step forward and offer that. His life was different than it had been, and... the fiddle almost symbolized an old part of himself. At least this specific fiddle. Maybe he could get a new one.
But before he could do anything, chaos stirred up. A horse- a horse- was shoved into the fire. He could feel the anxiety in the other horses. What was going on?
Then- that voice. A shudder went down Abel's spine. The winds picked up, and Abel stepped closer to Cecilia, pelt prickling. He wanted to leave, to get away from this chaotic storm. But the voice kept sounding, and Abel found he couldn't pull himself away.
He watched in slack jawed horror as the ground changed. Something was coming for the, but fear kept him rooted in place. And then it passed. It did not harm or touch them. But the ground...
I can be whatever you ask.
Abel narrowed his eyes at that. He wasn't sure what to make of any of this. The voice scared him, but he felt intrigue too. Confusion flooded him then, as everything he had been doubting boiled up. If this- god? could do things the others wouldn't... Well, then he wanted this god to be one that could grant him the gifts he sought. He glanced over at Cecilia, feeling far away from her with the realization that she was indeed not a unicorn. He nearly felt pathetic in his skin compared to her. He wanted to be like her.
His eyes went back to the now solid fire. And addressed it.
"Can you make me like her?"
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Post by moonlightwalk on Aug 1, 2018 9:04:26 GMT -6
Lilliana | Hedgewitch
Lilliana mildly panicked at the suggestion the kirin may have offered themselves. “Zemora,” they squeeked, looking over the kirin in worry. “Surely the god would not take a horse unless they offered themselves with intention! It may be better for you to move though…” Lilly bit their lip, not wanting to forcefully push the kirin out of the fire either.
Storm overhear, they looked up, distracted, but not for long. It all happened to fast, Soothling was there and then gone and Lilly stood frozen solid. What. What. The bat winged hedgewitch acted like they didn’t just commit murder, acted like it was the most normal thing in the world. As if a life hadn’t just be lost. The fire roared.
No.
Tears sprung to their eyes as they searched the fire, searched for the ghost, the soul, but found none? “Soothling? Soothling?!” they called the name in vain. No ghost nothing, all consumed by the fire. Trixie started throwing out accusations, so did Zemora. But there was no ghost and they clung to that little hope. “They’re not there,” Lilly said, “they’re not dead, amongst the death,” they clarified. Gone like the ashes they had sought.
Did the god do so? The fire was changing again, wilder than before until it was a blinding pillar and there was a voice. The god.
What must they think of them? Lilliana wondered what that meant. There was no emotion. As the storm opened up, she saw a shimmer, pulling up towards the sky. Soothling? Was it really? Were they seeing things?
“Did you save them?” they called, loud and desperate. “I offer no death, I offer love, but one horse did.”
They didn’t have time to marvel, even though they should have. This was a legend in reality, a god, a new one at that. But what they said confused them and Lilly had so many questions. “What should we call you? Why are you here?”
The god offered to be whatever, offered to be death if they asked. Death was not a bad thing, not to Lilly. It was an end to a cycle and cycles made the world go round, without dead there would be no true life. But did they want the god to be death? But this was bone. A bone tower and a storm. Lilliana recalled the pool and their question during the new moon council’s gathering. Their eyes widened
“Can you help us? If you can be whatever, can you help us?” Lilliana asked, perhaps naivly. “The wa- There’s a war coming. A war between the herds. Can you help us save lives?”
Could they be their savior?
Post 4 | 421 words
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Post by MapleEgg on Aug 1, 2018 17:10:40 GMT -6
↤↤↤↤↤↫ ֆɛɛӄɛʀ | ʋǟɢǟɮօռɖ | աǟռɖɛʀɛʀ ↬↦↦↦↦↦
Seeker had at some point decided to follow the crowd to what was The Fire. She wasn't entirely sure when she had come to that decision but regardless she had made it at some point. She glanced back, looking for Shiann and felt a seer of panic but quelled it as she noticed the Kirin that Shiann had come with up here as well. The mare came into view just as Persephone tossed in her flute into the flames. The chaos that erupted had nearly sent the mare fleeing with her wits but something kept her rock solid where she had stood. The white hot light, it burned with light but Seeker could not look away. She could feel the need to run, to be safe there just under... something. Something was willing her to stay there and observe and it made her blood feel cold. Rain whipped her hair from her loose up-do and it whipped around as the windless storm tore at her. 'Shiann... are you okay....' she felt more than thought and then she felt it.
WHAT MUST YOU THINK OF ME
The voice, Seeker thought that it almost hurt as she blinked rapidly as the white light turned into solidness. Her eyes, all three, tearing up from the light that was dissipating. Then the wind had stopped and the white grew. Not the light, no, the solid white and it made Seeker's flanks shiver. She knew she was afraid. Why could she not run, run to her Shiann and guide her and even her Kirin out of there. This was not right but as her foot clicked and she felt the soft yet firm touch of bone under her hoof, she stayed still.
I CAN BE WHATEVER YOU ASK
That was such an open door. She had not guided this.. this GOD to be there with them but still the question sunk deep into Seeker's heart. There was so much that she wanted, all minor things, she knew. But that question opened a gap that Seeker longed to fill and then, it did not take others very long to do just that. One asked to be like the small Kirin. A Kirin. Could you really ask a god to change who you were? Yes she nodded gently, if they were indeed a god. Then a plea for help with this damn war. It had been the last thing that Seeker had wanted to hear in this place. In their gathering. Seeker sighed and glanced down the hill towards Shiann wondering of her. That seemed to pull her mind from the bone and the light and the GOD. She looked back and felt the fear bubbling. This was not good, she could not stay. The mare began to step backwards and then turn to leave, keeping her keen eyes on the god. It was then she noticed that Florian had fled already and guilt mixed in nicely with the fear for her Shiann. Finally moving away she muttered to herself softly.
"I want you to be gone"
And Seeker galloped, making her way towards Florian which she soon caught sight of, pleading inside to see Shiann.
Word Count : 535
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Post by Western-Witch on Aug 1, 2018 19:16:41 GMT -6
Zemora:Vagabond | Hedgewitch
With herbs and potions that comfort and heal, come together and turn the wheel. The Kirin was snappy. Zemora didn't have time for that. She let their words roll off her and watched as another oddly mixed equine appeared and tossed in a small pan flute. As soon as the offering was taken, the storm broke.
The world around Zemora seemed to shudder and shift. The winds swept in heavy and almost carnal, reaching across their dimension with intelligence, aware of it's own power and control. It was all Zemora could do to root herself to the ground, she crouched low ignoring the old ache in her left foreleg, tucking her long tail beneath her. However something about this power longed in Zemora. She felt a natural tug towards it and looked up. The flames grew large and tall, piercing the sky above. She saw the stars and knew their constellations. They were the old golds. And all they did was twinkle at this defiance.
There they were. Digend. Their voice was something familiar, like hearing your grandmother's voice when you're young. You don't know them, you don't know their story, but your trust for them is never ending. Zemora was becoming a convert. She bit her lip at this realization.
She was never one to pray, really. Not very religious, mainly because of the silence she had received. She listened to the world around her and heard what it had to say. And lately she had caught Digend's name whispered among the plants, bubbling in the rivers and chittering with the birds.
The flame had become stationary. An off white. Zemora stood horrified as she watched this blatant flex of power. The substance spread fast down, she thought she heard the sound of bone cracking. It had reached the logs and spread quick under Zemora's feet before she could fear for her life.
Death. Digend was a bringer of death. The rumors and the speculations of the Cultists were true. But Zemora had seen the fire that evening. It was something else too. She glared at Sicilly for her offering. It's not that Zemora was completely against a live sacrifice. She knew this calling to be a Hedgewitch would bring you down that path at least once. But the way she had taken it. Completely apathetic was something Zemora could not deal with. Everything had a consequence. You needed to take it in full whether it be negative or positive.
As Zemora tried to confront Sicilly one more time her foot cracked against the ground. She stopped completely forgetting the pegasus. It was bone. Looking around her she heard the final words of this new god. Whatever we ask? What god offers anything? And what were the consequences?
Behind her a young unicorn shakily asked to be a Kirin. And then Lilliana spoke again of being a savior of the war. Another banished this new god and turned tail.
Zemora stood there in front of this power. And with a cold understanding she wanted it. She was older, had lost the love of her life, and was still alone. Something about this god made her feel secure.
"We've met before Digend. I do not know you. I do not know your intention. But I want your power. I want your blessing." Zemora had a slight shake. What she was offering to do would ostracize her even more. She was asking to denounce the gods she had grown with her whole life. She wanted whatever this god had. She could feel the power and how the equines around her feared and respected Digend. Zemora wanted that too.
Quietly she looked back up into the eye of the storm. The wind had stopped and the silence was heavy. "I'm sorry." The stars remained silent. And Zemora walked away from them.
WC: 625 | Post #7
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Post by foalish on Aug 2, 2018 16:13:21 GMT -6
C E C I L I A
❅ Vagabond | Outsider ❅
Cecilia blinked back in surprised, having to look up at the other of her kind, as they came, bearing a warning. She frowned and titled her head. She was confused, but she seemed totally ready to follow them - she’d follow the only one of her kind she’d seen anywhere, honestly. But then she heard what they were warning her of. She didn’t see it happen herself, far too distracted by Florian, but she did hear the reactions of horses around. Someone was pushed in the fire. She leaned around the other Kirin, to take a glance at the now still fire. She only looked confused, before looking back up at Florian. Oh. Right, other horses weren’t fireproof. Not like them.
They really weren’t near as noble.
“Would they really?” Her voice was shocked, as she asked the older Kirin in confusion, for clarification. Other species really were disgraceful, especially to Ignacio. She was glad she wasn’t any of them.
She was about ready to trot after them; she already started to move. Even forgetting about Abel, carelessly in all the commotion. She naturally assumed he’d just follow her.
The bellowing voice didn’t interest her at first. More magic and disgrace - exactly what she had just been warned about. That she didn’t want to listen to as long as it took sinning in Ignacio’s name.
But her apathy wasn’t one to last long. It was the last word that caught her attention. That made her swing her head back towards the gathering she was ready to leave, that had disgraced her god.
An offering for an ask.
She frowned and huffed. It was then when she realized the world around her was different - it was all suddenly bone. She leaned forward, tapping the ground a few times with a hoof, to make sure that it was real. So they were talking to a god. One that had clearly shown off.
But only bone? Ignacio would have been much more impressive than this one, this one who was trying to prove their point. What really could this soul offer her?
But the draw slowly called to her. It felt unnatural to approach the fire, even want to. To ask anything of a god that wasn’t her own. She looked up at Florian, frowning, “I’ll be right back,” she took a step back, before looking away from them. She didn’t want to loose the first of her own kind that she’d seen. But she also wanted to remember everything she’d lost. The missing of everything that haunted her - that she couldn’t move on from.
She didn’t come too close to the source of the voice; fear and betrayal from her own actions causing too much hesitation from her. It was audible in her voice. “Can you give me my memory back?”
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Post by Idiosyncrasea on Aug 4, 2018 22:22:18 GMT -6
Trixie stood, paralyzed in fear, continuing to watch and listen to all that went on around her, or at least as much as she was able to take in; she was getting more and more overwhelmed, and everything was starting to seem more and more surreal, even to a witch such as herself… Her head was spinning with growing confusion…
Was the “new” god really Digend, as at least one of the others apparently thought?! For some reason, Trixie had assumed that a brand new god was being summoned… Brand new to Hireath, anyway, never known by anyone in the world before… Now Trixie realized that that was probably rather niave, to think that even a large number of hedgewitches could have enough power summon such a new god… Trixie was aware that Digend was at least somewhat obscure, but Digend didn’t seem entirely unknown, at least not in most places… And she didn’t think Digend was exactly brand new, but she didn’t know how old or young Digend was compared to the other gods… However, one thing she felt pretty sure about was that cultists were probably the main worshipers of Digend… And the cultists did lots of terrible things, including murdering Trixie’s mother, way back… The thought that this might be Digend added a strong dose of hatred alongside the fear… But then she wondered if this powerful god might be able to sense her hatred, and more fear piled up, though she couldn’t seem to stop the hatred…
The instinct to run was growing even stronger in her… Yet, at the same time, she still started to think of things she could ask this god, Digend or not… She decided that for now, she’d risk staying here for awhile, to ask the god a thing or two, as others were… and she’d just have to hope she wouldn’t regret it later…
“If you’re r-really D-D-Digend… Do you actually support the c-cultists… All their violence…?” Then she was silent for a minute or two, realizing that maybe it was pointless to ask that, since gods could lie as easily as mortals could, surely…
Then she continued. “If… you can be anything… c-can you… also be… l-life…? Can you undo turning the ground and plants into bone? Um… also… s-sorry for asking another thing, b-b-but… that mare who was taken by the fire… I… didn’t know her… b-but I doubt she deserved… wh-what happened to her… Can you bring her back, alive and safe? Unless she actually did deserve what happened to her, I guess…”
WC: 426 | Post: 5
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Post by FaunaFawn on Aug 5, 2018 19:28:42 GMT -6
Sicilly A Hedgewitch Expression remained neutral as the words of others filled the air. Their cries, their fears, their accusations. It roared like the thunder in the storm, and made her heart race all the more. A part of her coming alive, those that knew of her, knew she was no gentle soul despite being a healer. A dark craft, anything for coin, nothing would satisfy the pit within her gluttonous heart. Eyes looked as a few of the witches came to head with her, calling her a murderer, as if they even knew. The fire accepted the mare, it was enough.
Sicilly always does the dark deeds of others. Enough courage and steadfast faith to do what was needed to be done. Head turned to the fire, ignoring the calls and fears of others. Ha, let them call her out, let them run in fear. If they could not handle this, then they all should leave. The fire roared and things began to change, a faint smirk was on her lips.
Of course she was the one to get the reaction, doing what was needed of their people. The woods and everything turned to bone as a voice rang out asking what they wanted. The mare held her tongue as she listened to others speak, ahh suddenly her murderous crime was not so bad if they could get something. Suddenly everyone so greedy, everything was okay as long as they got a piece of the reward. Sickening. All of them, it made her stomach twist into knots with each equine asking for something until one asked to bring back the mare at least someone had some good intentions and didnt think of themselves.
Sicilly wish to say she was a better equine, but after pushing someone into fire, she allowed herself to be greedy. Dipping into a bow to the fire she remained still as she voiced her desires. "I make enemies easier then I could ever make friends. I know the coldness of the shadows far better then the warmth of the sun. I ask for a companion, something steadfast and loyal. I crave a humonculus made by you." she asked. Sicilly lifted from her bow, her face stern as can be as she looked into the fire wondering if her gift would be granted, a servant to the flames of chaos, a servant to a new god.
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Post by Dream-Lark on Aug 7, 2018 12:41:19 GMT -6
Sinarin | Thief Silver eyes were sharp and flitted about, warmth tingling down his side at Aurora's touch to match the soft, slow buzz of alcohol within his system. There was a kirin sticking his head into the fire (they really didn't burn like the legends said?), and the storm kept slowly getting worse. Gaze flickered to rest upon a striped mare unicorn who was speaking, one brow lifting, before shifting to a striped mare and back to Aurora. "Did she just say ya'll are trying to summon a god?" Sinarin asked, tone incredulous as he shifted his weight slowly from side to side. Oh, he didn't like the sound of that. Though oddly, they hadn't said which god, and that confused him just a tag. Since there was a great fire, did that mean all this was to rouse Ignacio? And then--then things really started to heat up. A bat winged mare spoke up about being emptied handed, then simply pushed a sooty common horse into the fire! Sinarin sucked in his breath, silver teke touching a throwing knife and drawing it partially as he stepped forward and in front of Aurora, placing his torso between her and Sicilly. He glanced toward the fire, watched it burn and turned bright red, bathing everyone present in the bright light and sweet scent for a breath before disappearing and returning to normal. The thief didn't blink, didn't scream, only stared hard at the pegasus who only inquired if anyone else had anything to offer to the fire. "Not sure there's much that could follow up that," Sin replied, tone hard as his blood raced with a spike of adrenaline. This was not what he had been expecting at the Wordsmith Gathering or anything Aurora would be involved in. He cast a glance to her, angling himself so that he was between both the fire and Sicilly and her. He was no hero, and he wasn't about to try and exact any vengeance for some sooty mare he didn't know or care about, but he wasn't going to let Aurora get hurt. He flicked an ear as he heard Falk announce that he was leaving, feeling an echo of that sentiment in his soul. And yet...curiosity also burned within him, a spark of that wanderlust that had pulled him from his stable little apprenticeship as an agriculturist to the life of a thief traveling Hireath. The storm whipped harder about them as equines screamed and that kirin from before made a spectacle of himself. And then--then the strangeness really began. Sinarin bit back a curse as the fire roared skyward, turning into a burning column, as the ground seemed to shake, and the wind howled around them. And then a voice that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. The thief was rooted to the ground, though he wanted to turn and bolt from the changing scene before him, to push his companion away and run off with her. But before he could make his muscles move it was over, and an experimental tap revealed everything to now be made of bone?"Alya's ass," Sinarin whispered, staring wide eyed at the tower before them, a sliver of fear running down his spine. "Hey dove, I think that crazy summoning of yours worked," he murmured, awe struck and not sure what was going on or who this god supposedly was. He'd never had a spiritual encounter, never been blessed, and didn't know any stories that matched up to towers of blood and live sacrifices to a fire. It did sound like a weird combination of Kaia and Ignacio, but the voice reflected neither gender it was....nothing. He listened as others asked for things from this bone tower and the god connected to it, the words sparking off the greed that resided in his heart. He was a thief after all. This god was apparently taking and giving, and that sounded like the Digend he had heard rumors off. A god of luck and traveling, chaos. Well, that sooty mare had had really bad luck, but maybe this would be good luck for him? The entire party definitely hit the chaos requirement well. "How about good luck in exchange for some pretties and drink?" Sinarin offered, glancing back at the mare he still stood protectively before, and then to the tower. He released his grip from a throwing knife momentarily, shifting to pull a bottle of booze and some gold and silver leg bands and earrings from his saddlebags. They'd been most of his score from the night, a dose of good luck from him, as it were, turned offering to this god. WC 786 | Post 5 |
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Post by Disastercorn on Aug 7, 2018 23:14:42 GMT -6
A U R O R A
Her hooves no longer stood on grass, Sootling no longer stood with them and the fire was speaking. Aurora felt a chill score through her body faster then she ever felt before, faster then a snow covered morning or a dip in the ice river. This chill ran deeper and it felt like she could barely breathe. Her friend Sicilly had forsaken a life, given it away for no reason other then her own greed. Tears pool before tricking heavily down her face. The ground was slick beneath her hooves and all she wanted to do was run away.
This was all wrong.
Her forehead pressed into Sin, unable to stand on top of the bone any longer and used her wings to hover. "S-sin... Sin we should go." And yet he stepped forward and offered a bottle and some items from his saddle bags. Breathing hard the pegasus pulled back more. What had they done? But she couldn't leave, not without Sinarin. This was becoming all too much for the small pink mare.
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Post by gone-astrayy on Aug 8, 2018 11:25:39 GMT -6
Persephone | Bard
One second she was dropping her beloved instrument into the hungry flames, the next the fire rose into a blinding column, rising far higher in the sky than her eyes could track. The wind howled and roared around Persephone, her hair, feathers, and tentacles all desperately whipping in the current. The spire sucked and swallowed at the air, looking as though it were trying to consume everything it could, debris rising against gravity in a terrifyingly powerful display. Through it all, Persephone stood her ground, less than a meter from the flames.
And then the voice.
A familiar one that spoke, not in words, but in her very soul, consuming her, filling her up with it's presence.
WHAT YOU MUST THINK OF ME.
YOU GATHER IN MY NAME,
AND YOU OFFER ME DEATH.
The light began to solidify as the words were uttered, and it raced down the spire, and in the blink of an eye, it overtook the ground beneath her, the earth and flora around her being encased, enveloped in a sturdy material, that Persephone soon realized had to be bone. The display was powerful, it was chilling.. It was curious. It left the equines gathered untouched, and the moons light seemed to illuminate against the bone, making for a decidedly unique sight.
I CAN BE DEATH.
I CAN BE WHATEVER YOU ASK.
All around her, horses began asking the bodiless voice for things, ranging from discovery of memories lost, to a plea to be remolded into a different body. What did Persephone want? Her eyes closed, and through her past experiences up until now, there was one thing that she wanted.
"I wish to know you. Know your story." She was a bard after all, and what was life but a story?
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Post by Deleted on Aug 10, 2018 9:31:30 GMT -6
The sky above, still an unnatural spiral of clouds around the white tower of bone, began to quiet. The howling winds dimmed to soft breath. The air sighed as it circled the gathered horses, tousling manes and touching faces with gentle brushes, as if feeling them for the first time. Digend ached to hear their sorrows, their want. The desolation of her siblings' absence had been carved into all of Hireath's equines, but Digend felt the plight of Vagabonds most of all... They had fallen through the cracks of the providence brought by the world's nations. They were without even the shadows of gods to comfort them. As they looked up, eyes wide, Digend felt their belief swell. Power coursed through her. She could not answer all of their prayers, but maybe she was strong enough to offer something... The girl had asked for her memories. Others had asked for Digend's own story. MY STORY IS YOUR STORY.
LET ME SHOW YOU. She took command of their senses, showing the Gathering something she had been waiting centuries to tell. The vision began how Digend had begun: in darkness. The gathered horses felt themselves floating in a void, silent and black. Just as the nothingness was becoming numbing, almost maddening, the bright and deafening world flashed to them in jagged shards, through pinholes in the darkness. The God's War was told to them in brief, screaming glimpses. Equines, indeterminable in breed, were swallowed by roiling earth, consumed by fire, turned to ash in columns of arcane light. A world at war, continents stripped of life and splendor, great cities toppling out of formerly vibrant grace. A whole people vanished before their eyes, Smothered from existence. This was the death of the old world, the world of the gods. With the visions came dismay, terror, wordless cries of anguish that began to solidify into calls for help. As the voices became clearer, louder, greater in number the images became easier to see. When the vision came into perfect focus around them, the land was empty. In the rubble of the toppled world, they saw Hireath's first vagabonds, huddled around a fire, sending prayers into a sky that was suddenly empty of gods. These ancient vagabonds, these wanderers of every stripe, propped a small altar up at their camp's center before they went to sleep. THIS IS WHERE I WAS BORN.
THE OTHER GODS FAILED THIS WORLD, FAILED YOU.
I WILL NOT. The vision faded, leaving them back in the bone forest, at the foot of the white tower. Digend counted their wishes silently, fretting over the cost. A transmogrification, a familiar, a resurrection, good fortune, power. These were not small gifts. She didn't have enough for them all, not yet. MY POWER IS GROWING STILL.
IF YOU TELL MY STORY, I WILL PROVIDE. I WILL PROTECT YOU.
I WILL BECOME ANYTHING YOU NEED. I PROMISE THIS.
CARRY ME WITH YOU.
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Post by Dream-Lark on Aug 10, 2018 12:22:11 GMT -6
It was that quivering, trembling soft voice that brought the thief back to his senses. Had him stashing away the items he was going to offer and turn to see tears dripping down his lover's face. He cursed himself mentally as he stepped toward her, even as he felt the wind gentling about them, tousling the hair sticking out of his bun. He'd really stuck his hoof in his mouth this time, hadn't he? He wasn't a good stallion, but he wasn't a bad one either. This time though, he'd let his greed get the better of him.
The thief reached out and nuzzled Aurora's cheek, saw her hovering above the bizarre bone beneath them as if she couldn't bear to touch it. His touch was gentle, reassuring, an apology in his eyes as he heard the bard ask for this being's story--and then that voice resounded, echoed, and yet did neither in his mind again.
And then he was swept away against his will.
Shown the past and flickers of images that left him shaking when he returned, eyes wide as he looked toward that tower again.
"Hey, love? I don't think god is as bloodthirsty as the cultists or that bat winged brute made them out to be," Sinarin murmured gently, lips near Aurora's ear as if he were worried about breaking the silence after such a...proclamation. He'd never been an avid believer of the other gods. He'd been raised to adore Cascade, but the water goddess had never spoken to him or his family, to anyone he really knew before he had turned his back and run away from his home. She'd never answered him, when he'd prayed in the dark of night, hungry and cold, trying to sleep in a nest of leaves beneath the trees to keep warm.
He'd liked the ideas of a deity who looked after travelers, who had a spark of humor or chaos within them to spice up life, who might actually listen to those who didn't belong to the Herds. But the blood thirsty cultists had always tempered this notion of his with shadows and doubts and sacrifices.
"Are you...really the Digend we've heard rumors about? Is that your name?" Sinarin inquired, gaze intense but awestruck still. This being hadn't offered them any names or anything to call it. Hopefully this wasn't all some demonic trip from Briemiens, but he rather doubted it, those images, that well of magic and power...it seemed only something a god could command.
He should heed Aurora's wish to leave, but the greed and desire for information about this whole affair kept him in place with an internal struggle.
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Post by foalish on Aug 11, 2018 0:52:12 GMT -6
C E C I L I A
❅ Vagabond | Outsider ❅
And just like that, in seconds, after the voice spoke again, she was wisked away, with the rest of the horses; she was shown glimpses of death, of this gods birth. Terrible things, which made her stomach tumble, her back up after the visions finished.
Those memories were not of which she asked for, of her; they were of something terrible. No faces for her, no moments she wished to know, just death.
It was not her memory, she refused to believe it.
Cecilia swallowed hard, frozen after the initial steps. Forced to heed the words of the god who spoke; she was unsettled. This was not her god, their plea did not speak to her. Not when it showed her that, not like this.
Cecilia was quick to move on wobbly legs, still a bit of terror in her. She moved to find Abel, a lump stuck in her throat. She suddenly felt more clingy that she ever remembered, resting her head on his shoulder for a brief second. And then she walked away, wrapping her tail around his neck, trying to tug him with her as she started to walk - back towards the Kirin who had warned her against these horses. She should listen to her own kind; he knew exactly what of he spoke, of the curses they brought. This was just another. “Abel, come on,” she gave a light plea, wanting to walk, but seemingly not wanting to leave him behind. “This isn’t ok,” she looked on the verge of tears.
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Post by Jennycallie on Aug 11, 2018 1:03:54 GMT -6
Florian
Vagabond Outcast
Florian may have swung their head nervously after the other Kirin as she left their side, might have even called after her (had they? They didn’t even know her name, the first of their kind, found again-) and perhaps even twitched a step after her. Had looked to Seeker, seen their own unease echoed there in her eyes.
But their cloven hooves were scraping against unfamiliar material, and the fire (that strange, warm, beautiful fire) was a massive column of bone. Something precious and life-affirming, turned to death.
And… there was that voice in their head. In their soul? Florian felt their very bones shudder in response to the strange words, and again considered the material beneath their hooves. Oh. They closed their eyes, opened them, but it changed nothing.
How could Florian warn this other Kirin of the dangers, if they couldn’t even escape the sudden awareness of… of whatever filled their minds so completely. The voice wasn’t loud, but it was all-encompassing, and Florian felt… witnessed. Trapped. They were too new, they were too new and this felt wrong-
And then, nothing.
A void yawned suddenly beneath Florian, and they almost welcomed it, welcomed the cessation of sensory input. Almost. The voice was gone, the blashempized fire was gone… everything was gone. Were they dying again? Were they being shot out into another time, and place? As before? Before Florian’s mind could turn from dread back into true fear, there was light.
Light could, indeed, be so much crueler than dark.
The visions had ended, the voice resonated through Florian’s body again, but the Kirin was not listening. Or rather, the words filled them (for what choice did they have?) but then dissipated like so much smoke, and Florian was left again on the tableaux of bone. They were laying down, crumpled. They didn’t remember falling (somewhere between a vision of earth swallowing equines whole and a maelstrom obliterating them entirely, perhaps), didn’t remember the visions even ending.
For Florian, they still hadn’t.
Again and again, a loop of senseless violence and death, a horrible vision from a horrible voice that wasn’t a voice, from a horrible fire that wasn’t a fire… but the visions trembled on the edge of Florian’s memories, a room with a curtain drawn, a beast crouching in the night. Unseen, but known. Remembered?
“Who are you?” Florian rasped, words jagged and almost angry as they fell into the air.
It was unclear if they spoke to themself, or to Digend.
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Post by Idiosyncrasea on Aug 11, 2018 10:34:16 GMT -6
As she was assaulted by the horrific imagery, Trixie quickly started to tremble hard, heart rate and breathing speeding up, tears filling her eyes; she grew overwhelmed by confusion, terror, and anguish - was this just a vision of the past, or had this god thrown her into a nightmarish situation that was actually happening now?!
Then the imagery was over, and she was standing in the bone land again, where she’d been just before. She was still shaken, and didn’t know how long it would take her to calm down. Her panic only decreased a slight bit as she listened to what the god said next.
Had the terrible things in that vision actually happened, or were they a hoax? Had the other gods really failed the world, and the mortals, or was that a lie? Even if the visions were of the true past… they couldn’t be the whole story, could they…? This did look like it probably, really had been at least partly the gods’ doing, but maybe the gods had good reason…
But Trixie couldn’t imagine what sort of reason that could be for such atrocities… She only hoped that the gods were still trustworthy - especially Kaia and Argus, whom she’d prayed to for many years, ever since becoming a hedgewitch… Now, part of her wondered if it might be pointless to some degree, or even downright wrong to pray to these gods, or to the other gods… Her heart ached, so much…
And this god, silently speaking to them… Who had turned the fire, ground and plants in who-knew-how-wide of an area into bone… Although they hadn’t exactly, entirely confirmed that they were Digend, there were strong hints that this was probably Digend… And Trixie couldn’t shake off thoughts about how Digend was the Cultists’ god, and she was sickened to think of supporting the same god as the murders of her mother (and the murderers of many others) supported… Though, there wasn’t proof that Digend actually had supported the Cultists yet, even though they believed in Digend so strongly…
Trixie also felt a bit of frustration with this god; why waste so much energy on turning a vast area of perfectly good ground and plants, pointless destruction, instead of doing something actually useful? There could’ve been who-knows-how-many rare, useful plants growing in this area, and if there were, they were all gone now. She didn’t dare criticize a god out loud, though.
But if this god was being truthful about their promise to protect whoever told their story… Well, in the future, when they did have more power, they could make a great ally, indeed… As long as they didn’t waste too much more of their power on stupid things, like turning more stuff into bone… She decided that she would spread this god’s story, but she’d make sure she told everyone that she wasn’t sure how much of it was actually true. And she’d hope that spreading the story wouldn’t be letting down the other gods too much - including, of course, the ones she prayed to…
Finally, she spoke, her voice quavering and cracking with pain. “I… I guess you probably, really are Digend? W-well… Okay… I’ll spread your story…” By now, she felt like crying, crying very hard, and probably long, especially after speaking… She couldn’t bear to even wait to see if the god said they really were Digend or not; she couldn’t bear to stand there and cry in front of others, even though there appeared to be many others who were distressed, too… She turned and went galloping away to try to find somewhere to hide…
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Post by Deleted on Aug 22, 2018 7:59:05 GMT -6
Your plot is complete! Stay tuned for a wrap-up journal!20 AP and 20 CS to all participants!
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