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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook
Pretty Little Things
Trial Ultima 
Roscorro the Dragon Heart
Currently championing: Caevoc
#1
ROSCORRO
Almost done. Loops this here, tie of this there. The giant Clydesdale lay in the shelter of the Ultima caves. Seeking shelter from the terrible storm outside. Before him lay piles of vines, stones, and shells he had gathered in the rainforest and along the beach as he made his way to the cave. A little something to keep him busy while he waited for the worst of the weather to die down. Though it seemed like the rain would be a constant companion this season, it had its quiet spells and torrential tantrums. He had been within the cavern for several hours now, waiting for the constant drum beat of rain to ease. Though if it had within these moments he could have very well not noticed. So enthralled by his crafting that not much else was noticed.

Intent upon the intricate and challenging weaves Roscorro was fully entertained. The tip of his tongue peeked out between his lips as he concentrated, working in the shells by carefully using his sharp claws to pierce small holes. It was a hard task, and he had broken several pretty shells. But he was a patient fellow and worked slowly and carefully until heh ad the needed amount of items.  He had then begun to set to work with the vines, tenderly, carefully weaving them together with his hand-like forepaws. he had to be careful that those same sharp claws did not cut his make-shift string. Lest he had to start all over again.

For years this had been his only pass time, trapped within the caves of his kingdom. And so his fingers moved with a daft ease acquired by hours upon hours of practice. And so, with the passage of time the stallion had crafted a pretty necklace of shell and vines. Weaving the green plant fibers intricately together. Leaving one to wonder how he had managed to do so with the often uncooperative material. Let alone the shells. Though it was a fine piece of work it would remain ownerless, made simply because the stallion was bored. But that did not stop him from feeling pride as he continued to weave and work. Perhaps he would find someone to gift the item to. Though he knew not anyone that would want a necklace of this fashion. If Gwyn was here he would ask her if she would like it, but she was not. He was alone.

It still stung greatly to think about his little charge and how she had vanished so perfectly from the world. It hurt so much that a frown temporarily touched his lips, until a particularly tough shell refused to go on his vine and he had to focus more fully on that. He was so focused on threading his vine through the hole in the shell, he did not notice the presence of another entering the cave.




"Talk."

I may not be the most important person in your life.
I just hope when you hear my name,
You smile and say "That's my friend!"
image || coding


Trial for @Eira. She has to destroy something beautiful.  Rosco is being her unsuspecting helper in this.

Oh the necklace looks something similar to this https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1puddQFXXX...Collar.jpg
You have my permission to use magic/force against Roscorro.
Maiming and killing is not allowed, though. 
Eira
Currently championing: Reszo
#2
Eira...
Without Vynter and his wonderful concoction of healing herbs, Eira’s rash had began again to fester, and spread, inching now beyond the scrawny length of her neck to dissolve the finer hair of her cheeks. Angry red pustules erupted upon the naked, rain-soaked skin, itching awfully and stinging beyond bearability as they burst and began to bleed; they covered her breast, rump and thighs, and also worried down the length of her legs to knee and hock. The only respite she could find from the pain and discomfort, was beneath the frothy salty waves of the murky, black ocean.

Doubling her feeling of malaise, was the lightning that yet continued to stalk her hind leg.

Intermittent volts of electricity still exploded from thin air to zap her, antagonise her, and the limb which was their target was so numb now that Eira could barely muster strength enough within it, to step properly. It dragged along with less vigour than the wispy silver spray at the end of her tail, but she managed along regardless - because the only other option available was to perish. Her curse (both of them), had become an unfortunate standard well expected, and though at times she tired terribly, withered and frayed, thought of beloved Indra, pulled her momentum forwards.

Thunder bellowed through the heavens above her, stirring the wounded follicles of her hide to pickle and ache, but the icy caress of the rolling sea soon soothed them back down to sleep. As lightning streaked like a labyrinth of veins through the moody sky, the bathing yearling was able to note the rising swell and her drifting place within it - the current was sucking her further than expected from the dull span of the rain-misted beach. Paddling hard with the strength of three legs, she began the turbulent journey back to land.

As the waves threatened to crash violently down upon her, she inhaled deeply and threw up her head (for the little Eriucla was there within her ear), endeavouring to defy the rousing fear and stay calm; the malspira aided her breathing nicely, as planned, and soon her chipped hooves were treading land.    

Hurrying up the shore to the jagged horizon of gloomy cliff, Eira dodged the damned forks which followed and searched for the doorway to the dry, crystalline wonderland: Ultima. It was nestled beneath an unfittingly ordinary - if not ugly - outcrop of sedimentary rock, and, having visited the beautiful destination already a few times since the start (of this nightmare), the young hybrid was able to pick it with relative ease. Sliding inside, and down the sea-lined passage to the lit cove below the forest, she quickly found herself stepping and stumbling between queer piles of plant, shell and stone.  
"I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden
Roscorro the Dragon Heart
Currently championing: Caevoc
#3
ROSCORRO

The storm continued to howl outside. While within the softly glowing cave, all was calm. The world within the cave remained untouched by the furry of the rain. He was completely safe and alone. Though he worried for those he knew, he was unable to safely venture out in search of anyone. He had to help himself first before he could help anyone. So he had remained stuck here, and knew he would be stuck for an extended period of time. His arts and crafts project served him well during this time. It kept his mind distracted and off of other things as he worked with the unruly plant fibers to create a work of art.

His long tail lay sprawled out, like a hairy snake resting upon the stone. Only the very tip twitched as Roscorro concentrated. Ears erect atop his head focused in on the work as well as he pored himself into his work. He was so close to being done! All he had to do was tie it off here and there! Finished! A sense of pride swept over him as he held up his creation. Spread out between his paws was the necklace, the small white shells swaying and wiggling from the movement. Then she came stumbling in from the storm, her delicate hooves trying desperately to avoid the piles he had created. So intent on admiring his work he did not notice her until the last second. But by that time it was too late. He had no time to react as she came towards him.




"Talk."

I may not be the most important person in your life.
I just hope when you hear my name,
You smile and say "That's my friend!"
image || coding

@Eira
You have my permission to use magic/force against Roscorro.
Maiming and killing is not allowed, though. 
Eira
Currently championing: Reszo
#4
Eira...
Ultima was among the friendliest of all the destinations she’d discovered as her journey had progressed slowly through the Rift, both warm and tranquil, and the filly felt better almost immediately. Though her rash-eaten body ached and shivered and the harrow of anorexia dissolved her mind’s strength, a thoughtful smile rested comfortably against the sooty-blue pillow of her lips; she was light light-hearted soul, pure, uncontaminated by the throes of age and experience. With wearying eyes trained upon the small clusters she had found, and ears also angled down interestedly upon them, Eira did not immediately notice the sunken bulk of scale, feather and fur, until she was almost upon him.

“Roscorro!” her heart sang out with delight as her fumbling footsteps arrived her before him.

The tiny, sickly child’s skull lifted too quickly as her sparkling gaze dove boldly ahead to trace the strange line of his familiar, floor-bound figure sprawling like a soft rug back, behind him. One tiny chipped hoof lost traction there, upon the sandy cove’s floor (a shell perhaps, or a stone beneath), and bent knees failed to reconfigure their balance. With a startled gasp and panic rising through her wilting expression, Eira began to fall forward at a great rate of knots. The haggard-looking creature was unable to prevent the clumsy, accidental collision and with the wind heaving heavily from her chest, she hit the small workspace between his queer, hairless forelegs.

Almost as suddenly as she’d arrived upon him, the humiliated filly recoiled quickly backwards, staggering feebly until the sharp angle of her toneless thigh was pressed against the unforgiving face of Ultima’s veiny wall. With unhappiness rising swiftly through her core, Eira examined the damage her bumbling had caused him: the neat piles - stone, thin vine and shells - scattered rudely. Worst of all, however, the decorated cord containing an array of each that had draped between his teeth and the sand below, seemed now to be only half the length of before. Her frame sank to the earth, along with her withering spirit; she was so very sorry.  
"I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden
Roscorro the Dragon Heart
Currently championing: Caevoc
#5
ROSCORRO

Her entrance was extremely startling! Though it was not her sudden appearance was not what caused his heart so leap into his throat, but it was her fall that had the organ so eager to escape his mouth. Within seconds the necklace was destroyed as her frail legs snapped it in two. The weave unraveled and shells clattered to the ground. But the giant did not care as he dropped the item to catch her and stop her from falling further. Then she was stumbling back her eyes wide with shock and guilt before sinking to the floor. He was instantly on his feet, the necklace long forgotten, as he moved towards her.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice thick with concern. Other than her worsening rash, he saw no injuries from his standpoint. Still he stretched out his nose towards her, gently touching her head as the heat around them began to rise. His blood burned within him, its magic seeking out of him to flow into Eira. It attacked her rash, fighting the magic that caused it as it sought to ease some of her discomfort. He sensed that he could not overcome the magic of the rift as it ate away at her, but he hoped that he could edge it back and halts its progress for a time.

He felt the exhaustion from his work take hold as the heat ate away at the pain and irritation the rash had caused. It also began to suck away her great distress as it sought to correct her emotional injury as well. "I cannot stop the rash completely." He said when he finally pulled away. His body weary from the magical strain, though he took care not to show it in his voice. "But hopefully my magic will hold it at bay for a time. Are you in a trial right now?" Or was the rift just being particularly cruel to this innocent child?


"Talk."

I may not be the most important person in your life.
I just hope when you hear my name,
You smile and say "That's my friend!"
image || coding

@Eira
You have my permission to use magic/force against Roscorro.
Maiming and killing is not allowed, though. 
Eira
Currently championing: Reszo
#6
Eira...

As the resonating sound of scattering shell and stone began to wane, so too did the deafening drum of Eira’s heartbeat begin to soften. Roscorro lifted in a quite breathtaking blur of ruffled feather and swirling hair, and though her dismal gaze swam across the murky hue of the stone to avoid the touch of his gentle eyes, her ears lifted quickly to receive the worry laced words. Quietly, breast twisted by the hand of guilt, she began to slowly nod in response, for though her pride ached terribly (and the persistent rash tarnishing her hide throbbed), no true harm had come to her during the clumsy, destructive fall.

Then, upon the small, invisible bump which had formed in recent weeks beneath the furry skin upon her forehead, Eira felt the warm of his touch. Within seconds a strange warmth was spilling through her veins. She remembered well the delicious, soothing affect of her mother’s milk when she’d been younger, and as his hot breath washed over her face, the feeling altogether reminded her instantly of her. As the welcome sensation flowed through her, still more curious was the alter affect: her worry seemed to weaken, the adrenaline in her blood to subside, and even the biting sting of the exposed nerves upon her body began to ease.

Shy blue eyes lifted at last.

The beast’s enormous head drifted backwards and she picked the weight of fatigue as it etched a weathered pattern through his features. He spoke softly in the rumbling, masculine tone and indicated that the suppression of her distress was indeed the result of power within him. Surprised, Eira examined him, following the woollen-like contours of his burly frame for suggestion that something unorthodox lurked within him; something that she might have missed as they’d walked beneath a twilight sky in search of lost kin. When Roscorro went on to mention trials, her small face skewed a little to the side. “What do you mean?”

Though she understood the connection between the voice which had entered her thoughts, the rash and the lightning, the small filly had never been educated about their meaning or advantage.


He felt the exhaustion from his work take hold as the heat ate away at the pain and irritation the rash had caused. It also began to suck away her great distress as it sought to correct her emotional injury as well. "I cannot stop the rash completely." He said when he finally pulled away. His body weary from the magical strain, though he took care not to show it in his voice. "But hopefully my magic will hold it at bay for a time. Are you in a trial right now?" Or was the rift just being particularly cruel to this innocent child? 

"I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden
Roscorro the Dragon Heart
Currently championing: Caevoc
#7
ROSCORRO
He only drew his attention away from the lass when he was assured that she was okay. His gaze dropped towards he ground littered with the materials of his ruined necklace. Carefully he began sweeping them up into a pile. He didn't want a repeat of what happened last time. As he settled into his work, his movements hampered by his fatigue, he began to explain. "A trail is a series of tasks the Rift gives people to fulfill in exchange for granting them a blessing. Magic, mutations, items, and so on."

He paused and looked up from what he was doing. "It is how I received the ability to heal others. Though not all of the trials are pleasant." He trailed off as memories of his first encounter with Kaida entered his mind. "On top of the tasks the Rift often adds something else on top of it. For me, menacing eyes followed me where ever I went, invading even my dreams. It would seem this rash is also a byproduct of a trail." Though she didn't seem to be aware that she was going through such a test.

He was happy to explain while he cleaned, imparting any knowledge he had to the young girl. He would continue to elaborate upon what he knew of the Rift and how it worked. The trials and so much more that he had discovered. So long as she was willing to listen. He enjoyed her company and felt no ill will towards her for breaking his necklace. he would have broken it himself if it meant he could spend his time waiting out the rain with pleasant company. Even if he was the only one doing the talking.

"Talk."

I may not be the most important person in your life.
I just hope when you hear my name,
You smile and say "That's my friend!"
image || coding


@Eira
ooc: I'mma end Rosco's part in the thread right here. He'll continue to chatter and try and impart knowledge onto little Eira until she wants him to stop. <3
You have my permission to use magic/force against Roscorro.
Maiming and killing is not allowed, though. 
Eira
Currently championing: Reszo
#8
Eira...

The mammoth creature began to sweep and reorganise his pretty collection of adornments, after which his  body - scaled, feathered, furred and horned - retired once more to its hard stony bed. Eira’s inquisitive eyes, no matter the haunting shadow of undernourishment above them, watched him attentively and listened with a keen ear as he described the fundamentals of a trial. All at once she began to wonder what treasure dangled at the end of her own string of tasks: the Living Tree, the Metus and the overwhelming list of other impossibilities which the Rift had installed in her mind. Feeling the burden of her massive obligation, the frail filly sighed at length.

“It might never end…” her thoughts whispered dismally to the tiny creature who stirred suddenly to mew near-silently in the cup of her tilted ear.

Roscorro mentioned the rash, raw and red against the grey-blue of her hide. Her lips turned at that point to survey it, to grasp the barbered fray of a long quill and lower it onto the blunt bite of waiting teeth. Now, beyond all the anxiety and pain surrounding her existence, there appeared small beacon of light - a glimmer of hope on the horizon. Perhaps, if she could recall the tasks that the Rift had dealt during those early days, she might be rid of the punishing magic once and for all. A smile more optimistic than it had been in months emerged through the sombre, skeletal expression.

Though her head brimmed with curiosity and her tongue flinched beneath the brew of boiling questions, words failed to form and fill the void of silence as it grew in wake of his explanation. Eira didn’t mind, however, and as he began again to speak at last, she allowed her bent knees to fold before him. With eyes trained to the skilful toil of his lips, teeth and talons and the soft banter of rain beyond their refuge, she immersed herself in his company - and the lessons he was willing to impart upon her.

"I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden


The end!
Thank you so much <3