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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook
"Without sacrifice," it said, "you'll have nothing..."
Trial Siren's Summit 
Valkyrie the Hopebringer
Currently championing: Caevoc
#1
VALKYRIE
She stood in the storm


From Solanis, as the weeks passed and the curse weighed down her motivation less and less, Valkyrie, who was yet to realise the error in her ways, endeavoured north beneath energising, reforming resolve. A new plan had risen to fuse the bipartition of her erratic, black and white thoughts - even if only for the present moment (which was all she cared to consider anyway).

Time spent wallowing in the sticky mud of self-absorption, melancholy complimented perfectly by the spew of freezing rain, had all stirred up a slew of buried memory, convenient concepts, ideas inspired by others she’d met so far, along this infuriating journey. She needed more power, aside from the brawn which had consumed her quaint femininity, a slave, be it beast (like Kiada’s) or a stupid fool like that boy Vynter. She needed alliances, a failsafe network of admirers (preferably), who she could call upon and sway the opinion of.

Still, the biggest priority now, was magic.

Valkyrie craved it with perhaps an unhealthy element of desperation. The shadowy shackles which bound and stunted her stride were not the only challenge that had befallen her since Hope (the name still struck a sour chord in her heart). Her sense of taste had been altered in exchange for telekinesis, that which had been ripped from her on entry into this world, and her longing for its return - just beyond the horizon - fed her forward, stubbornly, defiantly.

Screechers…

The young Shieldmaiden had witnessed their plague-like proportion previously when she’d travelled from Halyven (curse that place), so for the most part she knew what to look for. The horribly cold voice which had answered her prayer required her flesh for their bounty - an offering of sorts, a sacrifice she fancied to believe - though intended not to die. The spear of her kin was clenched between fastened teeth and her hot breath panted around it, rising in misty plumes above the strive of her frame. How tedious it was, lugging such an absurd amount of weight…

It was as though the burden of Hope’s curse had manifested into the irritating, tangible presence about her legs.

Nevertheless, she progressed determinedly, until at last the summit where she’d met K’yarie for the first time, loomed before her. The pinnacle was nestled in a deep sea of cloud, and Valkyrie wondered coldly if perhaps the lake at the centre of its crater had risen to the brim. Of course, it didn’t matter, nothing else did, and the cold-hearted creature turned to scout the vicinity for her prey.

and when the wind did not blow her way,
she adjusted her sails.



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Note: For clarity, Valkyrie is currently cursed - physically she appears as a stallion, cannot remember why she hates men, and views others as the opposite gender. Also, she is now flaunting Vambraces that erase her hoofprints.

Trial: Valkyrie must allow a Screecher to feed from her.
@Roscorro and/or any others :)
Rift Presence
Currently championing:
#2

There was a need to feed. A thirst for the beautiful liquid that was warm in its belly, that filled it with such a heavy comfort that when it was without blood, it could not thrive. So it moved with haste among the trees, clicking their teeth thoughtfully with each step. They were reaching out with their senses, trying to feel even the faintest sign of life in the vast regions of the Summit. It was far away from the comfort of its cave, but it had been so long since its prior meal that it had grown desperate.

The wind swayed the branches it clasped to, and as time went one the creature felt as if there would be another day that went by without a full belly. But then there was movement, not just the sway of the wind, but actual movement from deeper within the trees. The Screecher took pause, waiting with baited breath for yet another sign of what might be coming. And then... like a gift bestowed from the heavens above there was the presence of another. The creature was obviously much larger than itself, walking quietly among the branches.

At once the pulsing thrum of blood graced the its ears, causing a shiver to run along the Screecher's spine. At last, a decent meal! Without a second thought the creature was letting out its signature call, piercing the ears of the filly before it launched itself onto her shoulder.

the Rift
» Presence of the Rift «


Valkyrie the Hopebringer
Currently championing: Caevoc
#3
VALKYRIE
She stood in the storm


Though the need to allow the Rift’s revolting vermin to feast on her perfectly pristine skin was as detestable as the curse of masculinity she now shouldered, it was indeed a necessary evil (one she could tolerate); a quest that would see far greater reward than the alternative. If she could battle them off and step away with her life.

Of course, young Valkyrie had a plan to back her stubborn, power-hungry motivation. The temptress whose path the pastel girl otherwise trailed had delivered a bounty of sound advice about the creature required by her to nourish, the screecher, and her guileful mind was alive with the colours of one million imagined scenarios.  

She anticipated something huge, perhaps similar to her own stature or greater, a nauseatingly unattractive beast without the compliment of colour to better its aesthetic worth. Its blood should run cold, the nerves splayed beneath shell, probably too lacked feeling, and K’yarie had explained that it roamed without eyes - it was another blight of this world, a life without worth.

Still, all judgements set aside, the stony Shieldmaiden needed the screecher; that made it important.

While the cloud swirled like a stormy sea above the summit, Valkyrie strolled quietly, her prints masked by the gift of enchanted vambraces (she’d earned them for bearing the stupidity of this population’s majority since arrival). A brisk wind harried the wet hang of her generous hair, needling the warm skin through the also sodden span of her clean coat; it dispersed the scent of her presence into the deepest crevices of the area. The rustle of the leaves around her, the groan and creak of the knotted boughs they clung to, masked the murmur of the stalking creature’s movement until it was almost upon her.

A shrill, splitting scream filled the air, the wind - her skull, ringing through the mind and fracturing all cognition therein, until the pressure too forced her bulging eyes into remission. Lashes fell heavily, meshing together tightly, and the skin canvased around her crawled wildly, irrepressibly, in response to paralysing sound. The winged horse found that she was stuck fast to the soil with a skeleton frozen solid and unwilling drive.

and when the wind did not blow her way,
she adjusted her sails.



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@Rift Presence
Rift Presence
Currently championing:
#4
the Rift
The fine, pale follicles on his slender body can’t help but shutter with pleasure as the life of this latest victim douses his aching abdomen in beautiful, crimson water. Life…sweet, seductive life…it pacifies desperation; barters for another day. Life could nourish hope; hope...and hot, bitter greed. Feathery digits cling fast, sinking their curved points without mercy into both flesh and hair.

That first entry point had been satisfying, but her shallow cutout was slow – very slow. Dissatisfaction pulls those hooked teeth from her weeping, bruised skin and sends the assailant upward. Defiantly, he slithers up her neckline toward the pulse of a swifter, mightier stream. It throbs, beckoning -- there was a low rasp of victorious noise before the wanton thing presses his length into her throbbing vulnerability.

Alarms soon blare our their warning cry – signaling his internal clock -- the effect of arrest would soon wear out! Despite the urge to dislodge, rapacity tugs briefly and wins out. Ambition decides that he’d remain upon this tasty host awhile longer....

OC: Bad luck! The Screecher seems to favor her blood! He decided to stay with Valkyrie for (1) thread!
» Presence of the Rift «


Valkyrie the Hopebringer
Currently championing: Caevoc
#5
VALKYRIE
She stood in the storm


Helpless was she as the hinges of her thickened jaw fastened tighter, forcing the molars above their length to grind gruesomely together. The scream jarred through her joints like the echo of an earthquake, commanding all willpower from her stunned limbs and robbing her heart of the courage to fight; however, her stubborn, resilient mind gathered against the strength of the sound and ordered forth a fresh wave of burning adrenaline. The hormone flooded her veins swiftly, whispering new life through the body which had reacted so readily to the call of wretched vermin.

The creature, far smaller than seemed sensible, had latched onto the steaming, stiff span below the wither.

Valkyrie’s snort rang true, blasting a foggy wreath of aggravation into the veil of falling fluid above her head. Movement returned with infuriating slowness. Teeth gnashed softly, intending towards their victim a far harsher threat, and the nerves which flinched laxly against the stinging, irritating bite of the Screecher shed only ripples in the streams which slithered down each curve. It released its hold, clawing a path hither atop her skin and in the same moment, the pallid mare’s fore hooves found their freedom.

A visible ring of diluted crimson spilled from the tiny wound.

Haunches clenched, binding down, riddled with malicious intent before unleashing the blunted weight of a buck forward, into the air. The Shieldmaiden’s heart sank and her anger boiled over, neck writhing like a cut snake beneath the pinch of the parasites sharp, ascending grip. It would not be moved, however, and the mare who struggled and squirmed so desperately began to quickly tire. The strain of hindered effort shone glaringly through her expression; she had nearly had the capacity to resist the Screechers touch, while every endeavour to shake it, consequently caused more weakness.

A whimper bled through panting nostrils as she resigned to the foul pain of the creature’s knife slicing through the wet flesh of her jugular. Though Valkyrie’s chin nudged three times towards it, the Rift’s cunning, unassuming predator was now beyond her reach. Cold and with the pressure of complete exhaustion squeezing her mind free of motivation, the winged-woman slipped through the watching copse of ragged timber and towards a granite cave K’yarie had provided them for shelter, several months before. Perhaps after sleep, she would crush the Screecher from existence.

and when the wind did not blow her way,
she adjusted her sails.



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