SWP 

I am Become Life

@[Storyteller] 08-11-2019 @ 12:54 PM (This post was last modified: 08-11-2019 @ 12:57 PM by Storyteller.)
#1
Moderator

Storyteller

RankFate
LevelVirtuoso
ClassEquine
Gender & HeightStallion, 10hh
Age & SeasonImmortal Spring ✿
Crystals 960  ✦
WriterNPC, 182 posts
Find Part 1 here.



be swift!


Death. Destruction. Calamity. It raged for hours as the World Eater arched and ravaged the continent. Their great, lumbering shadow blotted out the sun with every arch it made before it coiled and dove back into the terra firm below. Like stitches its body looped through the realm, crushing mountain and stone as if pliable clay.

Those lucky enough to heed the Bifrost’s words and manage through the devastation found hoards of other survivors. Dirtied, blood stained, and exhausted, all walks of life congregated at the root bridges at the foot of the ancient tree. But, for some time, it remained quiet. Some clamored across the bridges (some still fell, too panicked for caution) to try and seek refuge below in the labyrinth but the crossings were narrow and only handfuls at a time found themselves across.

Leaves still tumbled from above, flipping and turning in the growing winds. But, somehow, Jörmungandr never strayed from his wreckage of the mainland. The chaotic valley Dael was left relatively untouched save for the Bifrost’s wept foliage. Some sort of magic, perhaps? Was the stillness surrounding the tree truly still?

The first of the survivors to clamor over the ravine tripped into the Bifrost’s feet, their hooves seemingly the beacon the tree had been awaiting. Every rune etched into the tree began to glow, and rather than its once sinister red, a sharp, blinding white cut beams through the tree. The once dark cave mouth regurgitated an equally crippling aura as the first of many staggered into the beams. Screams of terror erupted in the crowd, some untrusting of the Bifrost’s magic, but again pulsations stretched from its roots and wrapped their souls, “To me, to me, to me”.

Below the crowds hooves the grounds quake - the World Eater! He’s coming! But no great wyrm erupts from the below but more roots. They jettison from the Bifrost’s half of the ravine, braid and plait and grappled onto the opposing side. More bridges! Bridges! A flicker of hope among the terror is gleamed. Troves of equine make the crossing, stumbling and staggering. Still some tumble, too eager and shove-hardy to wait, but the breadth of the bridge and its integrity do not fail the Valley denizens. As the white flash of light consumes them, Jörmungandr releases a final earth quaking roar. For those brave enough to look, the great dire wolf Fenrir hangs from the World Eater’s neck, his sons and daughters like ants as they climb and crawl along the World Serpent’s body.


The transition is disorienting. It spills masses of equine unto hard, smoothed floors. There are exclamations of surprise, gasps of startle, and shuffling as the masses keep and keep coming. Pockets and droves of Slidr River Valley denizens stumble into Bastion, deposited like tumbling pebbles into a gleaming, nearly complete city. But it is the primary, the initial group, spit out into the heart of Bastion that we find ourselves.

As the survivors find their hooves, survey through the upset in their stomach and try and blink back to orientation, murmurs clatter through this strange new place. It is not the belly of the Bifrost, like so many had expected. Great stone arches circle a massive antechamber, where tables (some strewn and turned over by the abrupt appearance of the survivors) fire lit lamps, and other equine mill. Shoots of summer light beam from the center and the arches where fabric curtains have been pulled back. Unfamiliar faces stare into the deposited souls with an inspiring awe. Whispers are passed back and forth between those armored like sentries or guards, while others undressed or more humbly adorned look excitedly on.

It is an amaranthine figure, draped in courtly white with glimmering jewelry, that approaches. Beads of various shades - one perceptive enough might notice it matches the same materials used to construct this elaborately eye catching structure - parts a small group of onlookers and approaches through the tables. Her eyes never leave the crowd as the once stoic, calm expression painted upon her face evolves into one of inspired. She stands before the collected group as news of other “mysterious herds” come from the hollered voices of guards outside, echoing faintly through the antechamber. The woman turns to her peers, features angelic, a stateliness about her that seems unrivaled by any in the room, “You see?” she says to her fellows, before turning back and facing the confused, injured crowds. “Pray and we shall receive.”

Confusion and irritation bubbles through the Valley denizens - contagious as looks are exchanged between the bruised. “Welcome to Bastion, my friends. My name is Basanti, a spiritual and arcane consultant to our humble Commission.” Her lips pull back in a beautifully warm smile, her bright but withered eyes scanning the group. “It seems whatever power brought you here knew exactly what they were doing…”




For some time following, this Basanti woman brought in healers and other commission members and set plans into motion for housing and caring for the refugees (as she now called them). Warm food stuffs and fruits were brought to ease bellies, and fresh water was bucketed in both for washing away the blood of chaos and to sate any thirst for the exhausted. Finally, when it seemed the general needs of the Valley dwellers were satisfied, she stepped forward again, waiting for their murmuring to cease before beginning.

”I cannot imagine how strange this may be for you, all of it. And I intend on making it a little stranger… but you see, we are a research commission stationed here in this new, fantastic world.” Her tone rose with fervor, a wide smile upon her face as she gestured around. “But we are few, and these lands are far too large for us to colonize ourselves. You all seem strong. You obviously survived whatever horror that brought you here. I ask a favor of you. In return you will have lodging and provisions here in Bastion until you see fit to leave, if ever.” She pauses, glances again through the recovering group. ”Are there leaders here? Three locations of interest require colonization for further research, but our scholars cannot do it alone, especially with no experience. I beg, if there are kings or queens among you, please step forward.”

Something is happening! The Bifrost has deposited the survivors into a new world, tearing them away from the Valley and into safety! It seems that the Commission who has greeted them is willing to house them and inquired a small favor. Leaders, please step forward. This includes any past Sovereign, Jarls, or Wardens. Non-authority characters may reply if they see fit, but at this time cannot put their name into the line up for Baron position. Note: if you intend on your Soveriegn/Jarl/Warden to not take a Baron position please still respond stating so clearly.

You have until 11:59pm EST of August 14th to respond. The next reply will come August 15th.

@[Antiope] 08-11-2019 @ 02:38 PM (This post was last modified: 08-11-2019 @ 03:12 PM by Antiope.)
#2
Coastdiver

Antiope

RankBaroness
LevelTwo
ClassBattle Magus
Gender & HeightMare, 20hh
Age & Season11 Spring ✿
Crystals 240  ✦
WriterMallory, 44 posts
She had waited until the last possible moment, trying to help any and everyone scrambling to safety. Houses no longer mattered; allegiances paled in comparison to survival. They were all the same, in the end. They all bled the same. Antiope did her best to shove anyone within reach towards safety, screaming at those who had started to fall behind to get up and move, to do anything,  until the pull of the Bifrost was too strong to ignore. In the distance, she spied two solitary figures making their way toward the malevolent beast that was destroying everything they held dear. For a brief moment, the pegasus held a flicker of admiration for the duo. They likely would not last more than a few moments, but they were trying to do something other than flee.

And when they disappeared together, Antiope dipped her head for a brief moment of solemn prayer that their souls found the afterlife they deserved.

The sovereign found her legs moving on their own accord, unable to deny the Bifrost any longer. Though she wished she could make a final stand like the admirable souls lost behind her, Antiope knew she couldn't. She had people to protect on the other side of wherever the Bifrost was sending them. There were too many unknowns on the other side for Antiope to attempt to fight off such a gargantuan beast. She would not leave her people to face a new world alone. Finally pivoting on her hooves, the gilt and copper pegasus mustered as many as she could to keep moving, to follow her, desperately avoiding any glances over her shoulder for anyone who fell behind. Those who were too slow now were beyond hope. They would be gone, dead or otherwise, and it made her heart heavy to know such a truth.

Her gaze fell upon bridges building themselves from vines and in the distance, the great tree that had brought her into Slidr Valley so long ago. Its runes glowed white this time, however, like a beacon of hope - beckoning all the souls to it. Some equines hesitated due to the pulses of magic the tree spewed forth, but the gilt pegasus merely kept pushing anyone in her way forward. Somehow, she knew the tree would not harm them. It would take them away from the destruction of the valley.

A great roar rattled the world around her, daring Antiope to glance behind her and she does. What she saw was the feeble attempt by Fenrir, of all creatures, with his abominable children attacking the world eater in desperation. The vision is lost in a flash of white as Antiope crosses a bridge, though it would be forever seared into her mind. If the great wolf was powerless to stop the wyrm, then she knew none of them had any hope to stop it themselves. To leave the valley behind was the only way to survive. Somehow that fact eased the sense of loss Antiope felt for her kingdom.

Stumbling dizzily, the first then Antiope noticed is the sharp clacks of hooves on a hard, smooth floor as she and other equines came spilling forth from whatever portal the Bifrost has sent them through. Bodies flooded in around her as the pegasus blinked rapidly, trying to orient herself with a shake of her steel-encased skull. Her ruby gaze swept across the soaring arches and massive antechamber where they now stood, though her gaze quickly falls upon curious and unfamiliar faces staring right back at her. Without any hesitation, Antiope placed herself at the head of the group of Slidr survivors, acting as a towering golden wall between them and the unknown equines that stared and whispered amongst themselves. The pegasus eyed them all warily, but the silent standoff did not seem to last for long. A lone mare, draped in clean whites and shimmering with jewels, merged from the whispering faces alone.

Whoever she was, she was important enough to command a silence without every speaking. Antiope's brow crinkles slightly in confusion as the mare spoke, something about prayers being answered to the equines behind her. The pegasus heard the puzzled whispers start behind her, though she paid them no mind.

Basanti. In a land called the Bastion, the strange mare welcomes them and ushered in food, healers, water for drinking and cleansing themselves. Those behind Antiope do not hesitate to accept the warm gifts, but the gilt pegasus never moved. She remained immobile, her crimson gaze following the other equines behind a mask of caution. She made no move to eat or clean herself; there would be another time to wash away the dirt and death from her coat later. There were too many questions to be asked.

A frown creased Antiope's muzzle as the Consultant began to speak once more now that the valley dwellers were (for the most part) clean and sated. Colonize? Curious, indeed. Whether these people summoned them or the Bifrost just happened to answer their prayers while rescuing the valley dwellers, Antiope found herself powerless to deny the gifts they were being offered. Settle this new world and they would have roofs over their heads and provisions to survive off of. There had to be a catch somewhere, or perhaps it was simply her cynical nature finding it hard to believe such generosity existed without a price.

"Aye, I was one." Her rumbling baritones rang clear over the whispers of the horses around her. Her body is tired and her bones ache, but she had to ensure their safety. With a few steps, the pegasus stepped forward. "Sovereign Antiope Eudoxos, my lady."

tagged: none
notes: none
"Speech!" Thoughts!


image | coding
@[Bones] 08-11-2019 @ 03:21 PM (This post was last modified: 08-11-2019 @ 03:22 PM by Bones.)
#3
Bonecarver

Bones

RankBaron
LevelThree
ClassSorcerer
Gender & HeightStallion, 19hh
Age & Season16 Winter ❅
Crystals 855  ✦
WriterKiwi, 65 posts


Bones of Vromme

Each time Bones unleashed his magic to protect those around him and those still lingering, cracks of blue magic spurted across the bones that made him up. It was clear he was using the very essence of his soul. and his power was waning. The massive bone structures he was creating were breaking far quicker than those earlier but he would not give up. His pedal bones dug into the sod beneath him with each stride, churning up the grass and dirt in clumps. The orb grew in intensity each time, the golden orb illuminating his skeletal form. "I...must...go...on." His voice rattled, drawn out and pained. There was not much life left in the sovereign of Vromme but this would not be his end.

A grouping of the Vromme shoulders had come to his side to run along with him, only to watch in vain as their sovereign collapsed. His bones flying in several directions, leaving only his head and hourglass at their feet. From the agape jaw of the skull a wisp of blue magic surfaced, swirling through the air like smoke. As the orb dimmed it seemed to glow even stronger before moving forward and into the nostrils and mouth of a recently fallen warrior. The eyes snapped open, pale blue against an obsidian face. The body shuddered with a gasp as Bones righted himself onto his new hooves. "For Vromme," his voice still the same. The same color as the wisp began to move it's way through the mane and tail of the new Bones, random bits and bones joining together along his back and to create his new tail. Despite now being a mane of flesh there was something odd about him. He was still the skeleton of his people, still their misfit king. He would not abandon them, even when his body gave up.

Picking up the hourglass in his teeth he hung it on one of the mammoth bones he had kept on his person since their fight before magically controlling it and tucking the horns behind his ears. The sand began to move again, brought back together with the soul it had been bound to. "There is no time. GO!" He leaped at the warriors who had returned to him, snapping his mismatched teeth in the air. He turned his head toward more horses making their way towards them and his eyes began to glow. His magic was even stronger now, and so was he. The massive structures of bones swept up from the ground and led them to safety. He fought as long as he could until the tug of the tree was too much. Like an invisible rope around his throat it pulled and pulled until he could not resist it any longer.

He was one of the last to make it through, unable to catch most of the strange mare's words. He was, for a moment, transfixed upon a familiar pair of antlers in the group. His elation upon seeing his son had made it distracted him from the death, though a bump to his hip jostled him from his selfish thoughts. He swung his gaze toward Basanti, eyes flickering toward Antiope. The strength that radiated from the Ambrosius sovereign was infectious and Bones felt his own confidence growing as he was in awe of her power. Mimicking her step forward the misfit king moved through the crowd to stand near her. "Sovereign Bones of Vromme." He stood proudly, sweeping the long skeletal tail up across his back and allowing the thick blue strands to waterfall down the gentle curve of his spine.

 @[TAGGED HERE]  














Mild power play allowed, ie touching and entering personal space.
@[Andante] 08-11-2019 @ 05:25 PM (This post was last modified: 08-11-2019 @ 05:30 PM by Andante.)
#4
Icebreaker

Andante

RankBaron
LevelFour
ClassBattle Magus
Gender & HeightStallion, 17.3hh
Age & Season3 Spring ✿
Crystals 770  ✦
WriterKagome, 132 posts
Everytime you try to forget who I am
I'll be right there to remind you again
While those of his house began to merge and blend with that of others, Andante lingered behind. Hanging along the outskirts to ensure his denizens made it to the unwavering call of the bifrost. Stragglers stumbled and terrified screams still penetrated the air along all sides. His voice rose above them as he instructed those to keep moving alongside his kingsmen. A single galloping soldier slowed and limped the rest of the way to his side, bumping heavily into the young king was he helped to right the man. The tryggr man's eyes were wide and misty as he looked up to meet Andante's carmine gaze, a heavy quiver sitting upon his lips.

"Hel and Brynja...they are still back there, fighting valiantly. Andante's own eyes grew wide, ripping away from his kingsmen to gaze out into the distance. What?! Dread clawed its way down his back and gripped his heart. Why were they staying behind? Just how far back were they? While he admired their determination now was not the time to fight. Maybe he still had enough time to circle back for them, to help them catch up before it was too late. All this and more ravaged his mind as the huffing soldier continued on. B..Brynja told me to relay a message...Tell the Boy-King I...am proud of him. That I did whatever it took to ensure our House escaped. He will understand."

The garnet haired king glanced back down at the man before him, shaking his head with disbelief. Obsidian ears pinning firmly into his mane before looking out in the direction of the world eating serpent. No, I can still reach them. There's still a chance. There had to be. Stepping past the hobbling soldier Andante pushed himself into a gallop, cloven hooves gouging into loose soil in his attempt to race back to his loyal tryggr kin. But he is not quick enough for a large fissure tore and ripped the ground apart. Leaving massive gashes throughout the land like a beasts claws cutting through flesh.

Andante tumbled to his knees dirt and debris pelting his hide as the earth's crust shifted and fell apart. Scrambling blood wept from his limbs and a single spot from his head as he looked across the chasm created. It was far to wide to jump and falling in would mean certain death. He paced his side of the fissure looking for another way around while also hoping to catch a glimpse of the two shieldmaidens. Even throughout the chaos that continued to tear the world asunder the ability of the nymphs touched him once more, allowing the weak and dying foliage to whisper to him one last time. Too late. It is too late young king. Your friends fought valiantly... Halting abruptly Andante snorted in defiance. No! The length of his leonine tail lashed aggressively as the foliage whispered again. Live..so that you may honor their sacrifice...

Damn it! The curse slipped in the form of a growl as he tossed a glance over his shoulder. In the far distance a blinding white light shone from the runes etched within the bifrost. Something was happening however he was too far away to tell what. Continuing to hold his ground, he bowed his head in a fleeting moment of silence. Bryn...Hel...Thank you for everything. I swear you will never be forgotten.

The sound of an ear piercing screech shook him from his heartfelt moment. Glancing up he saw the massive form of Fenrir biting into the throat of the snake while legions of dire wolves raced to aid him. The hellhound bore his fangs at the lot of them, hoping that they all tore each other to pieces and perished. Jörmungandr for ripping Byrnja and Hel away from him and Fenrir for terrorizing the valley one too many times. Whipping around he lurched in the direction of the bifrost. Everything seemed to be falling apart behind him no matter how fast he ran. For a flicker of a moment he believed that he would not make it, But it was that hint of fear that drove him shift into his hellhound form.

Large paws helped the boy king to sprint farther ahead at a faster rate than before. Sheer determination and self perseverance pushing him to keep going despite the odds. His lupine figure raced across the land as the final vibrant lights of the bifrost begin to fade growing smaller and smaller. With one final bound he jumped into the closing portal making it into whatever miracle the tree had conjured up by the skin of his teeth.

Hefty paws land upon smooth stone flooring as he finds himself standing behind the masses of equine who had escaped as well. Sanguine eyes scrutinize and look all around him at the grand structural architect of whatever building they might have been in. Fine silks and other posh looking equine stared in their direction and his with astonishment and what he could only believe to be a bit of excitement. A woman seemed to be speaking at the moment and so a single elongated ear rotated in her direction as he sidled up beside Naveed. Silently he watched as food was passed about and water was offered to those who wished to accept it.

What did I miss? He asked his familiar, tugging at the mental link that kept them bound to one another. Not much...the woman in jewels, Basanti, calls this land Bastion. Apparently she is one of their organizers. They have a commission of some sort. Andante give a slow calculating blink, processing the new information he has been given. But then the woman speaks again with talk of colonizing what she calls a new world. Ironic. That his people lose their world and then end up in a place that needs to be filled and explored.

Tryggr might have been gone, but it was still his responsibility alone to ensure the best for his people. Silently the hellhound moved past a dark bone laiden stallion with a half skeletal face mask. He came stand somewhat beside the gilded titan of a woman, his height surpassing her own as he looked in the direction of the woman wrapped in snow white linen. The two others standing at the front addressed themselves as the sovereigns of Ambrosious and Vromme respectively. His gaze lingered on the gilt woman for a fleeting woman. It seemed as if Caelian were out of the picture. Turning back to stranger in front of him he spoke. I too was a sovereign of the previous world.

Tag Here

forsaken
@[Evandr] 08-11-2019 @ 10:15 PM (This post was last modified: 08-15-2019 @ 09:37 PM by Spoupi.)
#5

Evandr

RankPathfinder
LevelThree
ClassBattle Magus
Gender & HeightStallion, 20hh
Age & Season10 Summer ☀︎
Crystals 15  ✦
WriterSoupi, 77 posts

EVANDR


HELL IS EMPTY


A clear, perfect reflection of his own miserable face stared back at him from the bucket of water that the commission member had brought from somewhere. A bucket. Of clean water. Given to him without anything expected in return. Water... His entire body rolled with a single exasperated scoff. It had been such a commodity, rationed and sanctioned, essentially worshipped, in the Vetr Wastelands. And here he was, tattered, bruised, bloodied and with what exiles he'd managed to help direct to safety, all with their own buckets of water. Others didn't examine at the presence of a free bucket of life-giving water like Evandr did. They gulped unceremoniously, dribbled on the shell-crushed, polished floor until the buckets were replenished.

The Warden looked away from them, his chapped lips screaming to sate his dry throat. Just a couple inches and he could taste the surely crisp liquid and resolve into a lull. It was the quiet after the storm now, where they all mended. But he couldn't get over the fact they gave away water.

He hadn't known what to expect when the Bifrost commanded the Valley, Exiles included, to its base. Didn't know what the white, blinding light had in store for them. But he followed and led his people where the other Houses failed to do so. No one came back for them, no one considered the trek they had to make, the massive distances they had to cross to make it to the blasted tree. It was by the skin of their teeth that they made it, leaping the last cracking fissure and tripping into the Bifrost's salvation.

Now, here he was, set besides the rest of the refugees as if he was one of them. And why not? Their home, everything they knew, was rubble. The old tales would surely fail to pass in the coming years and the idea of exiles and their stained nature would fade. He had been a king of nothing then, and what was he now? The loyalty of his people had been bought by protection and guidance, but here there was nothing to protect them from, no need to ensure everyone ate or drank, not when it was in such abundance. And what home was there to have pride in when it was crushed beneath the weight of that serpent? Scowl faced Evandr tossed a quick cerulean gaze across the room, watching as familiar faces reunited or strangers comforted those still weeping. Evandr spied his kin through the crowd, watched them, saw the glassy nature in their eyes where the terror dissipated into numbness.

Did they feel as detached from themselves as he did?

Evandr only turned away from the other equine when the shawled woman requested a favor of them. Another scoff - he knew the water wasn't free. But the inquiry was of a curious nature. Still, this Bastion would supply, house, and feed them while they resided here, but she was willing to offer land - real, untapped land - to the leaders of their ragtag refugee crew. Blinking he watched as the Ambrosius sovereign was the first to take a stand and declare herself - typical for anyone of the yellow banner. Next an unfamiliar king of Vromme introduced himself, followed by a lupine beast. Evandr needn't a lesson in deduction to understand the young child king Andante was a shifter. He watched them all but felt the stares of exiles as they turned to him expectantly. Sand swept and tired he turned back to them, again forsaking the bucket at his shaking legs.

He caught their gaze but made no movement to announce himself or his past false crown. It was all over. They didn't need him anymore, and there was nothing left to show. No more sands to conquer and prove his worth, no more enemies gunning for the ability to tyrant over the rest of the exiles. No. They would have a better life here. He had always wanted to break the old exile mentality, the one vs all quirk many of them had ingrained so deeply into themselves they hadn't realized it. How better than to dispel their kinship, let them live freely, unmarked by his leadership? Here, cleaned and fed... no one would even know they had ever been exiled.

So Evandr shook his head, tight and draw to not be noticed, whenever one looked to him for some sort of leadership. His kingdom, and authority, were no more.


W C: Enuf
T A G: None
M U S E: 3/5
V O I C E: Idris Elba
O O C: ...


AND ALL THE DEVILS

powerplay allowed
within reasonable limits!

@[Tywin] 08-11-2019 @ 11:07 PM (This post was last modified: 08-15-2019 @ 09:37 PM by Tywin.)
#6

Tywin

RankIcebreaker
LevelThree
ClassMagister
Gender & HeightStallion, 17hh
Age & Season11 Autumn ☁
Crystals 60  ✦
WriterSoupi, 79 posts


Tywin Traegur

To me, to me, to me.

Finally Tywin tore his eyes from those gathered - from some faces he knew well and others he'd never likely see again, and turned to the now expanded bridges of the Bifrost. When an opening broke through the calamity and rushing bodies, the Jarl of Arrhule laid a single, instructive nip on Arête's flank. Go, it said with silence, and he didn't tarry an inch until he was satisfied she successfully filled the space in the jostling crowd. He kept himself pressed to her at all times, letting contact secure her presence rather than sight as his nape twisted round to survey the crowd. He spied Tryggr peoples, guards, denizens, saw the glittering image of Alayaya in the back of the back and wasn't satisfied until his glacier gaze found Ezariel through the disorder. By time he turned back around, the Thrice Broken Moon was a sharp silhouette hallowed by heavenly light, and the both of them toppled through into whatever the Bifrost intended for them.


The transfer was dizzying. Unlike some others he managed to somehow remain upright, composed in the face of the disorientation. Below his hooves clacked polished, smooth floors, and their voices echoed and reverberated throughout the many arches and chambers surrounding the large space they'd been deposited. Confusion bubbled amongst the crowd and in the faces of those they disrupted. A singular optic swept, finding Arete once for reassurance, before continuing throughout the remaining space (planting a shoulder to her, leaning in and keeping her close). He looked again for the young filly Alayaya and Ezariel. He'd spied them with a woman he'd never seen, but wished well for her by proxy. Perhaps if one of them made it they all had made it. His twisting and turning (to accomodate his new handicap) only ended when a singular figure stepped forward from the opposing crowd.

The events that followed weren't lost to Tywin's perceptive nature but passed quickly. The research commission found them provisions and brought out water and food to sate any aching, tired bellies. Healers milled through the steadily relaxing (perhaps) crowd and offered aid where their skills were needed. Through it all, he kept Arete at his side, unwilling to separate even now. While these strangers seemed to have good intentions, their hospitality wasn't taken without salt by the Traegur male. One turn and who knew what faces would disappear into the shadows, or who might be swept away to some other room for additional assistance. Despite the filth that clung to his shoulders from the flight and the bead of carmine blood that stained the glacier of his lips, having slipped from his nose, he refused any water or cloth brought his way. There would be time to clean and eat later. It wasn't now, when others squabbled over the abundant resources.

Luckily, it seemed the Tryggr people had managed to find most of themselves in this primary batch. Whatever means of organized chaos Andante had elected it seemed to have worked. He tried catching the eyes of the hellhound king, to affirm the safe travels of those of Arrhule who had made it, but thought better of it. Besides, the amethyst mare, Basanti, seemed keen to acknowledge them again.

And she did.

Forward she came, beseeching leaders to step forward and volunteer for their colonizing endeavors. An audit atop Tywin's crownless head twitched. He'd been a leader, and true some nearby Arrhulans turned to peek a glance at their jarl, but the elder male remained at the Moon's side. All three sovereign presented themselves, a pretty and clean line, all vastly different than the rest, and there were only three kingdoms to fill. It felt useless throwing his name in the ring, more so when he'd pledged loyalty to one of the three standing before them. Ambition had always been intoxicating for him. He'd suffered its allure for years, climbed and swore duels to climb the ladder. But now? For once, it was quiet. His ambitions did not call for action but laid dormant within. Tywin knew the time and place to act, and now was not that time.

Rather he scanned the room once more, looking for those he, dare I say, hoped had made it, before turning his muzzle back to Arête's jowl, eyes burning and intent on watching what was about to unfold.

W C: enough
T A G: Arête, Ezariel, Alayaya for direct mention
M U S E: 2/5
O O C: absolute garbo
@[Storyteller] 08-12-2019 @ 09:20 AM (This post was last modified: 08-12-2019 @ 09:21 AM by Storyteller.)
#7
Moderator

Storyteller

RankFate
LevelVirtuoso
ClassEquine
Gender & HeightStallion, 10hh
Age & SeasonImmortal Spring ✿
Crystals 960  ✦
WriterNPC, 182 posts

be swift!


Three sovereign stepped forward, each unique and vastly different than one another. Basanti regarded them all, her bright, knowing eyes studying each as they offered their names, and in some cases, past home. She nodded her head at each, greeting them individually by name before making one final sweeping glance to the rest of the equine behind them. Eager, anticipating eyes watched them as the antechamber fell gravely silent. It seemed that despite the traumas that had brought them here, this new opportunity for a home wasn't lost on the refugees. Basanti gave them all a warm but empathetic smile. One day, perhaps, they would feel comfortable providing a case of their experience with the Commission.

But she turned back to the sovereign, transforming from the aura of a caregiver to one of diplomacy, beseeching them all with fervent eye contact. "Thank you all for volunteering. It warms our hearts to not only provide you all with a new home, but that by doing so you'll be helping us with our research as well. Perhaps someday you may find yourselves as proud of these new colonies as you were with your kingdoms." She silences herself, dipping her head in a moment of silence to the names Ambrosius, Vromme, and Tryggr. But her visage snaps up again, that charming smile of hers repainted upon her lips and eyes sparkling with glee.

"You see, your graces, the three areas we wish to colonize are vastly different than the rest. What we know now is that temples, perhaps keeps or castles, reside in these remote locations. We look to restore those ruins, bring them back to their former glory as we did with this Acropolis-" she makes a grand sweeping gesture with her muzzle, eyes alight as she regards the craftsmanship of the stone pillars and polished floors, of the trimmings and trappings that made it homey, if not a little crude. "We hadn't expected such magnificent finds, and we are in need of the numbers you may be able to offer us. And in return, I offer each of you a land of your own.

"The first discovered was the Coast of Badur. A sparkling gemstone of a beach that stretches for miles along the sea. It is the first face you meet when coming to this new world, with lush vegetation, brilliant teal oceans, and astounding, arching bluffs that stretch as far as the white golden sands reach. It is beautiful, and the coral beneath the frothing waves breath taking. I must admit, I visit there quite frequently for meditation. It is warm, always inviting, and in the cold months never seems to cool.

"Second discovered were the Blacklands of Esentu. This... well, honestly, daunting peninsula juts from the southwest into the sea. Lava weeps from it's high cliffs as the arm of the land rises above the ocean waves. The land is rich in obsidian and other minerals, but devoid of much life. And I speak very literally: great beasts from ancient times rest there, as if some sort of graveyard that lured them to their final resting places. There is one plant that grows there, creeping and crawling along the discarded bones like veins. It is even red in color. We've not finished studying it to understand what effect it may have on equine ingestion, so I do not recommend eating it.

"Lastly, as it took far longer to prepare for, the Tundra of Kur. It lays to the northeast. Miles of flat, snow swept fields separate the fields of Waldenwood and the ice fields of the frozen shoreline. It is eternally cold and laced with snow and ice, no matter how hot the sun burns above our heads in the Summer. Many argue that this land above all others is the harshest climate to endure. The seas of Badur and Kur meet, and there is a harsh line in the ocean. Bright teal water splashes and ebbs against dark navy depths, and we infrequently witness sea life passing between them. Additionally, the oceans of Kur have yet to be explored, so I cannot warn you or suggest you go for a swim. Who knows what resides below."

She finally paused, looking again through the sovereign as she took a deep inhale. It wasn't her choice to assign these lands to them, but let their hearts speak for themselves. With a small nod, she gathers a bowl from one of the nearby tables and lowers it to her hooves. When the wood met the floor, the clang was deafening in the silent building. Folds of powders and dried herbs escaped from the folds of her white drapery, all deposited in the bowl until the contents sparked and snapped, and it all went black. Lowering her visage, Basati blew one long breath into the powder. Runic symbols flew into the air, swirling on an unfelt breeze as they approached the leaders. First, a symbol broke on the chest of Antiope, next Andante, then Bones. Basanti nodded to herself before addressing them all again. "The magic of the land has spoken. Antiope, make your claim. The order will follow as the runes have suggested afterwards. Where would you like to colonize? Badur, Esentu, or Kur?"

Something is happening! The magic, generated by a random list generator, has spoken. The sovereign may choose the land they so wish in the order which has been provided. Once a land has been claimed by a previous ruler, it cannot be picked by another. Additionally, all new Barons have a 30 day cool down before they can be challenged for their territory. Congratulations, Barons, live long and explore well! Everyone is free to reply this round, although we will only be awaiting the Barons responses before moving forward

You have until 11:59pm EST of August 14th to respond. The next reply will come August 15th. If all replies are completed by the Barons prior to the time limit, we will move on.

@[Ezariel] 08-12-2019 @ 12:27 PM
#8
Pathfinder

Ezariel

RankPathfinder
LevelOne
ClassMagister
Gender & HeightStallion, 16.2hh
Age & Season10 Autumn ☁
Crystals 100  ✦
WriterFaith, 19 posts



Ezariel & a l a y a y a


There was more horror at the Bifrost than there was in the rending earth behind them. Ezariel’s practiced eyes took note of the dead, and worse, the wounded who could move no further and for whom nothing now could be done. With, though it felt like another time, a long familiarity with the battlefield he did no more than categorize and make rough counts; dismay and grief was for after the danger had passed. As Evette slowed, and stopped, Ezariel hesitated for a moment and then pulled himself up too, turning back toward her, closing the gap. Alayaya, not immediately aware of what was happening behind, continued to move toward the crush of bodies around the tree. As the ghostly mare looked around them at the carnage he looked only at her. He understood the physics of the problem as acutely as she did; the tree had provided a treacherous, narrow crossing for travelers moving one at a time. How would it accommodate the entirety of their gathered populace? But despair was a more dangerous enemy than any foe, god or otherwise, for it robs even the most certain of victories. The day was not lost until it was lost. His stormy gaze bore into hers, willing her to focus on him again; “You must.” His voice was loud over the clatter around them, sharply insistent, familiar to the issue of command. 

It was shortly thereafter that the ground underneath them shuddered violently, and erupted as the twisting, braided roots of the Bifrost wove themselves outward into more and more bridges. 

After a moment he looked around himself again, scanning for the tiny golden form of his ward. She was within the edge of that crowd now, and he felt a stir of panic. To Evette he said quickly; “Get in to the center of that crowd, stay away from its edges, do not stop moving forward and whatever you do, do not fall. Then he turned, bolting toward the glimmer of Alayaya’s palomino in the crowd, leaping over the form of a still, dark mare in his path. 

In the commotion and crowded panic of the Bifrost it would be hard to keep both Alayaya and Evette nearby. The mare was exhausted, and when they were jostled she had too little strength to resist the tide of bodies that pulled her along and, inevitably, away from him. And the golden filly was like a doll in the crush, carried whichever way the person next to her moved, and forward through the crowd more than the rest of them. She was at real risk of being trampled if she tripped, or tumbling from those unsecured edges as the bridges filled. Torn, and finding the collective panic of the assembled creatures harder to resist than the lonely panic of flight, Ezariel plunged forward into the crowd after the filly. Using his weight and a lost lifetime’s experience of combat tactics, he wedged himself through gaps, or pushed aside smaller bodies, using less care than he normally would, until he was within reach of her again. Her eyes locked on him as he pressed past a red-gray horse between them, coming finally into view for her. She pressed herself tightly against his side; he felt the sweat-dampened skin trembling with exertion and fear, the shoulder pressing tightly into his barrel. Her eyes were wide, the blue irises roving quickly over the incessant movement around them. She made no sound, even the rapid breathing was done quietly. 

He did just as he had instructed Evette; he used his size and his relatively preserved stamina to keep himself near the center of a column and moved determinedly forward with the push across the nearest bridge. Alayaya spent her energy keeping herself glued to him, and his larger size shielded her from oblique forces. They spilled up and over, a teeming chaotic throng, into who knew what danger beyond.

Arriving in the Bastion (as it was so named shortly thereafter) was so abrupt a transition that it was disorienting. The sound and sensation of rending earth and the voices of superhuman forces in conflict were gone, the heat of the crush of bodies was subsiding, as they spread to fill the new space. Even the smell; the mix of blood and disturbed earth, and the faint but unmistakeable smell of melting rock, was almost unnoticeable here. Instead was the smell of seasonal flora, wafting through open windows beyond which was a still and peaceful day. The sunlight, filtering from above, was like dreamlight – effervescent and reassuring. It was a few moments before Ezariel managed to still the rapid pounding beat of his heart. He listened as the gauzily draped woman spoke out to them, but it was not until the busy stillness of supply-fetching and wound-tending had begun that he really let go of the adrenaline. 

He glanced down at Alayaya, who, subdued, was leaning against him still. She looked up at him, the wide eyes a little too exhausted for comprehension just yet, and he touched his mug gently to her cheek, reassuring. A cursory inspection showed that, though coated in dust and foamy sweat, there seemed to be no serious harm to her. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the room at large. He skimmed the crowd for Evette’s waif-like, undead frame – relieved to find her, a little detached form the group, some ways off. He would have gone to her, then, but he was not so sure more exposure to Alayaya was a good idea just now. He contented himself instead with a dip of his crown toward her when she sensed his attention. Tywin’s frame would have been hard to miss, alongside a striking winged mare of midnight blue. When the Jarl’s gaze found him Ezariel gave a nod of greeting. 

During the pause Ezariel’s attention was mostly spent on the reception party. Gray eyes moving across the surprised faces, conversing with one another or else helping the newly arrived refugees. Without suspicion but with keen interest, he simply grasped whatever information could be learned in expression and body language. Basanti he watched in particular, noting the deference of the others in the room and its degree, observing for the signs of inherited and learned authority, measuring. 

As the rest period grew longer Alayaya’s shock gradually wore off. There were relatively few children in the group, and Alayaya – sweet, terrified little golden cherub that she was on arrival, with wide, overwhelmed blue eyes – drew sympathetic helpers to her and the Bay stallion like a beacon. She did not struggle as strangers rinsed the filth from her skin, and gingerly accepted food and water as it was offered. Ezariel expressed gratitude as a healer paused beside them and scrutinized the tiny frame for hurts to ease, though he knew there were none. Alayaya’s favourite terrain was center of attention, and as such it is hardly surprising that she shook off the shock of the previous hours with remarkable alacrity, warming up to the soft words and gestures of their hosts. When they had retreated she was restored more or less to her usual ephemeral self. As Ezariel interacted easily with his neighbours; asking after injuries, or who had fallen, or answering a question from one of the many helpers as they moved among them, Alayaya took a few steps away. At first, she moved no more than a body length from him, looking around shyly and trying to fit herself into oblique sunbeams that entered through stone arches along the walls. 

When Basanti spoke again, calling out their leaders, Ezariel’s attention turned once again to where Tywin stood, watching the macabre painted features of the dark stallion as the call was made. It was a fortuitous opportunity, really, to see the gathered leadership of their world in one place, at one time, in a stressful and uncertain situation. He could not have asked for a better set of circumstances if he wanted to get to know these sovereigns. Antiope commanded with her mere presence, regal in bearing and tone despite their collective fatigue. She walked the fine balance of pride and humility required of a kingdomless queen in this moment. The second sovereign, Bones, was a towering pillar of a stallion, with striking blue accents that added an edge of dramatic tension as he spoke. The third gave no name as he announced himself. He was very young, more so in the contrast of the first two whose experience amplified their presence, and he impressed on Ezariel the interest that mystery brings. His dark, predatory frame carried a different kind of authority than the other sovereign. A few feet away, Alayaya’s gaze perked up toward the voice of this crimson-highlighted man, and her eyes touched for a moment of familiarity there, and then away again around the room.

Ezariel continued to watch with a keen interest as the exposition and division of power was spelled out, but Alayaya, though initially impressed by the amaranthine figure in its loose robes (attracted as she always was to beautiful things) was bored by the conversation as it wore on, as she had no reference for any of the content. Instead she skipped forward between the pools of sunlight interrupted by the shadows of stone archways, enjoying the warmth of it on her skin and perhaps more than a little aware of the way it reflected, like rippling, shimmering gold, from her as she did. It was only once she had gone a few dozen paces that she noticed the form of Tywin for the first time. She squealed, but caught herself almost enough in the hushed atmosphere to muffle it a little, and rushed toward the still dirtied, imposing frame of Tywin Traegur on feet made clumsy by enthusiasm and belying her ability to make the dangerous crossing they had just completed. As though afraid he might not have noticed her, she stretched her neck forward so she could get closer to his ear, and whispered (well, stage whispered) “Tywin! It’s me, Alayaya. Remember?”


Tag: Evette Alayaya Tywin
WC: too many
OOC: Just was inspired to write something, feel free to ignore!

@[Antiope] 08-12-2019 @ 07:30 PM
#9
Coastdiver

Antiope

RankBaroness
LevelTwo
ClassBattle Magus
Gender & HeightMare, 20hh
Age & Season11 Spring ✿
Crystals 240  ✦
WriterMallory, 44 posts
A perpetual scowl seemed etched upon the pegasus's face, her brow furrowed as the gears in her mind churned. To be given such gifts with only minor expectations was absurd. Unheard of. It made the life-weary gladiator skeptical of the things that were being given to them in exchange for so little. Surely there was more to it all, but were they in any position to argue? The chimeric mare's jaw clenched. They could accept the gifts and face the consequences later or refuse. But what would a refusal entail? Their world was gone. They did not know the world they had been brought to or what dangers lurked beyond the stone walls they stood in. Her garnet gaze swept over the exhausted and downtrodden faces of her own people, of the citizens sworn to the two other houses, and knew they really didn't have many choices. They could either accept and wait for the other shoe to drop, or rebuke the fine gifts and...well, maybe only the Consultant knew. Death? Exile? There were too many unknowns that forced their hands. Her kindness might have been genuine, for all Antiope knew.

It was entirely possible that Antiope was looking far too deeply into something that was terribly simple.

The pegasus did, however, listen patiently and with rapt attention. Three lands, each different from the other, ripe for the taking. To rebuild and shape them in whatever way they saw fit. Each land came with fixtures that would vastly improve their lives; no more sleeping in rocky caverns or on the dirt. Her people could live in glistening cities with fine roofs over their heads. A land of seas, a land of fire, and a land of snow. Each so vastly different from the other, yet...Only one truly called to the pegasus. She weighed her heart's first choice, glancing at the former Ambrosius bannermen that still stood beside her. They had only known mountains for generations, but perhaps it was time for a change.

A rune emerged before her chest, drawing a quizzical glance towards Basanti. The mare explained that the rune represented the magic of the land and that it had chosen her to make the first claim. Despite her reservations about the whole thing, the pegasus knew magic would not lead them astray. The pegasus took it as a sign that her heart would not lead her people or those who chose to follow her astray.

"I think, in light of all that has happened to us not just today but also over the last several seasons, my people deserve a change of scenery," she began, sparing a glance to those who lingered close behind her. Satisfied she did not see any outward sign of disapproval, the mare pushed on. "I will go to the Coast of Badur. Those who wish to follow me, former Ambrosius or not, are welcomed to enjoy the warmer climate with me."

tagged: none
notes: none
"Speech!" Thoughts!


image | coding
@[Andante] 08-12-2019 @ 10:45 PM
#10
Icebreaker

Andante

RankBaron
LevelFour
ClassBattle Magus
Gender & HeightStallion, 17.3hh
Age & Season3 Spring ✿
Crystals 770  ✦
WriterKagome, 132 posts
Everytime you try to forget who I am
I'll be right there to remind you again
The large hellhound took a moment to glance over his shoulder, watching his people as they milled about and accepted the gracious offerings bestowed upon them. Scarlet eyes skimmed through the crowd, searching for eyes of treasure trove and hair of silver. The countless faces blurred, none of them matching up until he spotted her. A long sigh akin to relief passed through the lupine like creature's nostrils as he watched her whisk her way through a clump of strangers. She was here and she was safe. He had even caught sight of a golden strand, a thin string hanging from the lips of an ebon unicorn. Ezera was safe as well, much to his delight, despite the stoic and unreadable expression he wore.

The glacier markings of Tywin caught his attention next, internally glad to see that his jarl and what he assumed to be his significant other had caught his message. Another look around allowed him to set his natural predatory gaze upon Evandr. When the woman asked for all leaders to step forth the man said nothing, did nothing. The warden finally had his chance to prove he was more than what the valley thought he would ever be. But what was stopping him? A flicker of confusion touched his face before he was pulled in by something else. Finally he noticed a shimmer dancing along the outskirts of the crowd and as he focused upon the young filly Andante found her vaguely familiar. However, the stallion standing at her side remained lost to him.

Basanti beckoned his attention once more, describing the lands the commission had come across thus far in detail to some extent. Not long after, the woman wrapped in fine silks grasped a bowl. A glowing rune gently nestled itself across the dense fur of his chest, causing him to look down upon it, brows knitting together in bewilderment.

The one known as Antiope spoke first, speaking her desire to colonize the lush beaches of badur. Andante nearly found himself scoffing at her choice of words. Her people deserved it. As if the others did not. Vromme was struck first and thus had the most injuries. Why not let them have it? Although she did good saving face and correcting herself in the end, by offering an extended invitation. Perhaps. The whiskers at the tip of his muzzle twitched slightly. Typical of the yellow bannermen to break their necks to secure the best of the best and grasp a pampered life.  Some things it seemed would never change. As if Espen's divine protection (up until his death) wasn't enough, now they have a perfect tropical paradise.

Selfish... The single thought echoed within his mind. They always had been and always will be to him. The silver spoon house of the trio.

Regardless, he was up next and he could feel the eyes of his people laying upon his back. Mostly due to surprise that their king looked like a creature that had stepped out of legend rather than what they were originally used to. But that did not deter their unwavering faith in him, as they gazed upon him with hope shimmering within their eyes. Hefty paws shifted once as he took a slight step forward, carmine eyes resting upon the woman standing before him. The tundra of kur. Was all his deep baritones offered. His people were resilient and not easily shaken. They would thrive wherever they went.

Tag Here

forsaken
@[Poppy] 08-13-2019 @ 12:06 AM
#11
Pathfinder

Poppy

RankPathfinder
LevelTwo
ClassMagister
Gender & HeightMare, 12hh
Age & Season6 Summer ☀︎
Crystals 20  ✦
WriterBane, 32 posts
The water had started to drag Poppy back out into the raging waves, threatening to beat her like a rag doll until her last breath. In a desperate plea for her life, she managed to shift, a shape still so unfamiliar to herself. The rumbling of the terrain from the beast's ravaging form in the not so far distance seemed to be trying to topple her virgin legs over. Her breathing was heavy as her gills sewed themselves shut into her skin, water still dripping off her. She had to keep moving, get away, go somewhere safe, but what could even be thought safe? A forgotten, but familiar voice seeped into her mind. She didn't know what it was, but something in it made her trust it. Her own memory had forsaken her, images of the ivory fish the Bifrost had conjured to guide the lost hippocampi had long since been swallowed by the abyss of her brain. One shaking foot after another, she was slow and unsteady, but fear forced her to take chances. Equine raced past her, nearly knocking her over in their own panic. Her shaky walk became a trot, then a canter. She tried to get into a run, but another large shake of the valley sent her crashing into the dirt. Forcing herself back up, she started over until she was doing it, she was running. It was too bad that the reason for her use of her legs was learned due to the fear of death, but had she stayed, there would have been nothing left.

When she reached the embrace of the tree, she was squeezed into the crowds of horses ushering over the bridges. The unsteady weave of roots making each step a struggle, she was pushed and bumped before someone stepped on her tail, forcing her to the ground where she hunkered herself down, pulling herself tight where she laid, fearing the thundering pain of hoof steps on her small body. She didn't feel any, but instead, a large gruff woman who had seen better years, practically pushed her rear end with her nose. The shove lifted her off the ground partially and forced her front legs up into a stand for fear of being flipped over like a rock. She was then on her feet again, moving with the crowds. As she looked back to see who had helped her, they were gone and like a ghost, were lost to time.

She almost didn't notice when the sound of dense hoof falls became clear and sharp against even, polished stone floors. The craning bark of the Bifrost's body had become scaling arches that stretched into the sky like a grand chamber. Little Poppy was like a child among many of those around her, submerged below the silhouettes of their figures. It was like the lake all over again, drowning in her own headspace. She Pushed and squirmed, a strange feeling washing over her. Poppy wasn't use to the dry air and the dirt that caked her hide wasn't helping as her scales began to dry out. The voices of strangers chimed over the murmurs of confusion as they spoke of a new home and leaders. Some of the lrger words escaped her, not sure of their meaning, but more focused on other matters at hand. She looked up and around, searching for any glimpse of familiarity she could find, but there was none. No one she knew, not even anyone she thought she might have known.

Cleanly dressed denizens of this new world were beginning to usher others aside for food, water, and healing. She piped up with a weak voice, her throat dry and scratchy as it croaked out "Hallo? Wasser?" Her body was beginning to undo itself. Gills trying to reshape against her own will, hind legs weak as they desperately wanted to return to water. She'd stumbled off to the side as those of power busied themselves with the division of the new world. Finally one of the cleanly dressed ones brought her a bucket of water. Confused, but desperate, she did not drink from it, but submerged her head as much as she could it in. Water splashed onto the stone making it slick and her legs went out form under her. Falling onto the stone ground, all the wounds and bruises screamed out in pain, the bucket still covering part of her head as it's contents spilled out around her and she struggled to breathe. Gills flaring and contracting as they tore open . The water around her ran a dirty red color as it mixed with the mud and blood that remained caked onto her.

She was a pitiful sight laid sprawled on the floor, unable to hold herself together when so much chaos had ravaged the lands they all once called home. The clank of the bucket on the stone floor drawing attention to her. Everyone here was in pain from both flesh and heart, why couldn't she just hold on for their sake? Why did she have to be so weak. Her mind raced, leaving her body far behind in it's pool of desperation.
@[Bones] 08-14-2019 @ 12:47 PM
#12
Bonecarver

Bones

RankBaron
LevelThree
ClassSorcerer
Gender & HeightStallion, 19hh
Age & Season16 Winter ❅
Crystals 855  ✦
WriterKiwi, 65 posts


Bones of Vromme

Bones listened to the woman carefully, his gaze of obsidian and topaz narrowed in thought. His ears were pricked atop his skull, something he had not been able to do in quite some time. He watched as the runes swirled toward them, breaking across each of the former sovereign's chests. First Antiope, then Andante, and finally him. His skin twitched at the unfamiliar feeling though he remained stoic and quiet as the first two made their choices. Antiope chose the land of Badur. It seemed as if a paradise compared to the other choices and Bones could not blame her for such a choice. The idea of a lengthy beach seemed like a wonderful vacation, though Bones wondered if it would make the gem seem dull in comparison of seeing it every day.

Andante made his choice next. Kur. It sounded as though it was a winter wonderland...or horror-land. The misfit king cocked his head, lips twitching as a question begged to be freed. Not something to ask them but himself instead. Would his mammoths have liked that tundra? Bones felt their bones behind his ears, their essence now connected to his. They would always be with him.

"To Vromme that leaves Esentu." Bones statement was perhaps a bit more...normal than usual, but his strange voice was ever-present. Turning his head, the necromancer swept his gaze across those of Vromme who were still there with him. He allowed his gaze to linger on Bram for just a second longer than the rest, the corners of his lips curling up for a moment. "Wherever we go, we are always Vromme, we are always family." He closed his eyes, bowing his head lightly to his citizens before returning his attention to Basanti.

 @[TAGGED HERE]  














Mild power play allowed, ie touching and entering personal space.
@[Lirr] 08-15-2019 @ 12:25 AM
#13
Pathfinder

Lirr

RankPathfinder
LevelThree
ClassMagister
Gender & HeightStallion, 14.3hh
Age & Season4 Spring ✿
Crystals 350  ✦
WriterBane, 67 posts
Lirr had been among the shores of Vromme during the mass mayhem and frankly, was lucky to be among those that escaped the beast's all destroying jaws. His wings carried him far and fast. Seeing as the call of the Bifrost was pulling in not just himself, but everyone who resided in the valley, he was given little choice, but to heed it's call, hoping in all that he could that his partner had made it there with the others. Why? Why did he have to be so far away from home? By the time he reached the white light of the tree that once brought him to this world, his ebony coat was covered in sweat. Was it from the flight, or a cold sweat from fear? Perhaps both, he wasn't sure. Lapis eyes scanned the crowd from above before descending into the mess of it all, though he seemed to be looking everywhere except where he was going. He knew several of the passing faces, though each one distorted into silent horror at what they'd seen. But no matter how many familiar faces he'd seen, none of them where the right face.

Oh how he craved to feel the heavy thump of the large man's chest as his heart beat, the surprisingly soft leather of his wings, those red eyes burning like hellfire in a pale white face with a soft peach nose. That was home, his home, his mountain. But he couldn't find him. Among the sea of equine, he could not find the one that meant the most to him. It felt like something had grabbed hold of his heart and squeezed it trying to make it burst. As they all shuffled into the grand marble room, the exhaustion seemed to be setting into each and everyone of them. The very premise of feed and rest made them weak to their knees as they all shuffled about to get off their aching feet. Except the sovereigns. He knew two of the three, the blue haired one a complete mystery to him especially considering he'd heard the king of Vromme was a literal skeleton. Just who was that then? You know, it actually doesn't matter. He only had one thing on his mind and one thing only.

As he gave the room another once over as they were all shuffling about, he locked onto the familiar grumpy stallion from the hot spring. The one who was there when Lirr had met his beloved Bjorn. He moved with a purpose, slipping through the crowd with ease, the faded reflection of him in the stone like death, just waiting for him to drop. He didn't know the mare at Tywin's side and frankly, he didn't care at the moment. His mind was completly stuck on one track. There was no greeting, or relief in his words when he spoke. His tone far different from his usual chipper, cheeky tones that could sway a room. His voice was tired and desperate, almost pleading as he asked "Tywin. Tywin where is Bjorn?"


Tywin
@[Storyteller] 08-15-2019 @ 12:22 PM
#14
Moderator

Storyteller

RankFate
LevelVirtuoso
ClassEquine
Gender & HeightStallion, 10hh
Age & SeasonImmortal Spring ✿
Crystals 960  ✦
WriterNPC, 182 posts

be swift!


It was done.

With each answer provided by the leaders, Basanti bowed her head in silent gratitude. Despite their trials they had stood up to the task, taken on responsibilities that weren't theirs to bare, and did it entirely for the people they'd managed to save. It was noble and despite her attentive silence, the commission member hoped that they all knew it.
As the final claim was made the red haired woman nodded one final time, a celestial smile painted across her lips as she released a long, drawn sigh. They could all continue another day. Each and every one of them, refugee and commission alike.

Thank you, all three of you. I assure you that your new homes will receive all that they can from Bastion." she paused, turning her gaze to the tattered, bruised, and ragged crowd behind them. Forward she stepped, slipping between Antiope and Bones as she approached the center of the mangled and dirtied denizens of the Valley. There was a genuine sympathy that glistened in her eyes as she scanned all their faces, watched as they struggled to breath through injuries or lack of water, and knew that there was no way she could understand the horrors they faced. Luckily, they were relaxing to this foreign world slowly, finding the ability to move or prance in the sunbeams. And to those she offered ethereal smiles.

"Do you all know what leaders are without you?" She projected into the room, her voice echoing off the chilling silence it commanded. For a moment she stood illuminated in the sunlight pouring from the central window above, her gossamer fabrics aglow, truly appearing a savior. Another sweep of her red eyes as she questioned individuals, "Do you?", "You?", "Yes?", but her presence and demeanor demanded silence, made the air and atmosphere seem fragile. Another one of her small smiles, eyes half hooded as she stood there beneath the light. "Without you, they are nothing." Her tone was matter-of-fact and lacked the lyrical cadence she had spoken with previously. The pleasantries upon her face vanished. No longer was she playing diplomat with those in power, but lowering herself to the role of commoner and becoming one of the people, the transition executed so instantaneously it seemed inconceivable. "I pray that each and every one of you can find a home here beneath whichever Baron you find your loyalties with, whichever realm calls to you..." she says, finally stepping from the light in a small arch. Turning back to face the leaders, subjugating them before the people they saved, Basanti stood with the refugees and offered one final dip of her head to the Three Founders. "Long may you govern, Barons, and long may your people find happiness here."

Something is happening! Congratulations! Each colony has been selected by the new Barons. All others may pledge their loyalties now, either silently or verbally. Remember to post for the official group change in Help Center as well, but all rank changes (Baron, Icebreaker, etc) can be made in your own User CP.

The world of Fymm is now open to all Fimbulvetr characters whether posted in the SWP or not. Feel free to cross the mysterious seas and wash upon shore, pass through the Bifrost, or fly to the new world however you wish to transition on your own. Welcome to the new world!

@[Tywin] 08-15-2019 @ 01:19 PM
#15

Tywin

RankIcebreaker
LevelThree
ClassMagister
Gender & HeightStallion, 17hh
Age & Season11 Autumn ☁
Crystals 60  ✦
WriterSoupi, 79 posts


Tywin Traegur

Despite the silence in the room, the exhibition of the three sovereign, and the murmuring of the commission members aiding those who made it, there was still much to be garnered. A single audit remained tuned to the pertinent service occurring at the head of the group but his other strayed, listening attentively to the whispers and murmurs in the hushed crowd. His singular optic investigated as much as it was able without turning his head (rather it remained precisely where he had placed it). Enough of his attention was saved to catch the declarations of the past sovereign, but it was those surrounding him that steadily grew more enticing.

Rapport of small hooves on the smooth stone drew his straying ear as the gilt and copper pegasus declared her claim on the Coast of Badur, and Tywin couldn't help but muse how the coupling seemed to fit. Sprawling beaches and open, salt skies? Seemed ideal for a winged leader. And though the rapport of the small hooves mixed with that of the sloshing water, clacking buckets, and other gentle murmurs the once Jarl of Arrhule had a keen instinct that whispered he knew the little tap dancer. He kept a trained ear to their beat, acutely aware as they quickened with excitement and ventured near. Finally his muzzle rose from the resting place it'd found at Arete's jowl and rounded his nape enough to catch a glimpse of gold before Alayaya's inquiring whispers spilled into the cup of his ear.

Turning fully, as she'd approached the patched eye, the eldritch male spied down at the girl, a veil of obsidian falling as if a private curtain. "Yes," he quietly declared, eyeing over the youth's shoulder for her guardian. So they had made it after all. No doubt Ezariel's doing. His sapphire orb slipped back to her beneath a blink, his other audit still trained to the more important declarations ahead. He refrained a moment from engaging the child, instead tossing a sliver more of his focus to the four equine upfront. The beast of a hellhound snarled, prickly and irritated besides the other two. Seems the young king Andante was still in need of his tutelage. No soon after the fanged maw rumbled his decision. The Tundra of Kur. Interesting. Familiar yet foreign, it would offer semblances to their old life while still remaining wildly unknown. At least the Tryggr - seemed, those who would follow would now be Kur Icebreakers - people would be equipped to handle whatever terrain and weather was thrown at them.

Would it be the right place for them? It seemed time would tell. For now, Tywin would follow. He'd made a bargain, after all, and had every intention of remaining true to his word. All the was necessary for him to know was finished, and he turned back to Alayaya, still scanning the crowd for the bay. "I have a request for you," he commented, just as quietly as before. Perhaps the idea of a quest would sate the girl, keep her entertained while the adults situated just what they faced from this point on. Everything had changed for them, no matter how aligned with the Houses they had been. "Tell Ezariel I'd like to speak with him before the both of you leave Bastion." Pulling his carriage back he stood upright, a silent dismissal that he wanted the message delivered quickly, as time ticked for the lot of them. Who knew when, and where, they intended on going.

Tywin intended on listening to the woman again, but was caught by another familiar - although less so - face. His name was clipped, coming from desperation, and he turned his visage yet again to the gold lattice Lirr. An assessing sapphire eye glanced the smaller pegasus up and down. When they'd met in the hot springs, he'd never thought him the type to look so disheveled and maddened. Only proved how deep Jormungandr's destruction cut. He inquired about Bjorn, the largest of those who had attended their small gentleman's forum, and his whereabouts. For a moment Tywin pondered why the stranger sought his help - but realized quickly the only other familiar face here who may have known this smaller stallion's interested party was currently indisposed with the Basanti woman. Unfortunately for Lirr, Tywin was his only font of knowledge, and there was little to be shared. "Apologies, Lirr, I have no seen him, or you, since our rendezvous in Arrhule.", another silent answer to an inquiring party. He felt aflame, dancing and flickering in the darkness of hopelessness and drawing the last remaining moths to him.

But the flame was taken from him and bestowed on the Basanti woman as she addressed them all now. Her mannerisms commanded the room, and Tywin considered she may be the only one to rival his ability to play the role of host. Always gracious, always continuing the conversation. But here she was silencing them. It felt strange, to be uplifted by her statements while also muted by her aura. The hessian flicked his gaze away from the amethyst mare, away from the distraught Lirr, and away from his companion's kin. The single optic studied Arete's face, curious to know her opinions, to see if he could glimpse what she thought of this red haired woman and her commission. Where they as trust worthy as they claimed?

W C: enough
T A G: Arête, Alayaya, Lirr
M U S E: 4/5
O O C: ...

Current time: 11-13-2019, 12:18 AM.
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