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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » Guidebook

Bring back what once was mine!
Trial Frozen Sea 

Cold. Freezing temperatures burrowed through fur and nipped at ears. It was a constant struggle to live here. Some had thick fur and sharp teeth, others only visited. The yearling fell into the later category. From a distance it would be hard to see anything but the flash of her jewelry and the shimmering bay patches on her coat. Maybe the flashing lights from below the ice would catch on her pelt, or bounce off her chromium items. Upon closer inspection you would see earrings, a necklace, and bangle made of chromium accented with fire opals. A white tiger hide sheath was strapped on her right front leg, a dragon head hilt peaking over the edge with glittering fire opals for eyes. Tied into her mane is a dragon head totem from her father, before he was lost in this horrific place. Around her neck is the symbol of her blood line; a trial horse head with sparkling ruby eyes.

 She had tried her spider summoning magic, only to find herself being bitten by everyone that had come to her call. Her hide still itched from the arachnids fangs. Rage had pounded through her heart at what the Rift had done to her. Her lips lifted in a silent snarl ears burrowed into her thick tresses. "How dare you curse my magic! Twisting it into something hideous and fucking PAINFUL!" She screamed the last word rage boiling over again.She struck out at the ground squealing her rage. Throwing her head back she screamed, "Give me MY fucking magic back!"

In a rush a voice whispered in her mind; telling her what to do, what would happen, and where to find it. Her lip curled up again. 'Ya easy, how the fuck do I hold a serious conversation when I can't speak my own words?!' She pawed the frozen ground once more her tail lashing her muscled rump. 'Fucking Rift...' Still seething she strode further out on the ice. Silver flecked scarlet eyes scanned the ice, ignoring most of the lights looking for a certain one. Finally she found the forest below the ice and halted looking at it carefully. She knew one way to get to the plants, but would it be safe? carefully she thumped her peach colored hoof on the ice listening intently. Satisfied she stepped back and called forth her unmarred magic.
Words/OOC;; 395 @Nat Open if anyone else would like to join!
Hotter then a barrel on a squeeze machine gun.

x || x || x
Valkyrie the Hopebringer
She stood in the storm

It was a self-appointed mission -of sorts- trawling through the brutish contours of hell to find a place that better suited both her mood, and her constantly evolving intentions; somewhere as harshly natured and bitter as she.

Valkyrie had explored the southern extremities of the Rift, with its fancy panoramic sea views and luscious-looking, filthy rainforest, but the haze of molesting sandflies were a right, royal nuisance and the constant, oppressing humidity (together with the stench of old brine), even through these brilliantly water-logged months, gave both her skin and her head an ache. She was used to, and also very much preferred, the biting chill there atop Loorien’s highest peak (there could be no finer, she assumed), and the shrill whistle of the wind through the savage granite tors every night to sing her to sleep; vermin stood little chance between  the efforts of the fastidious keepers of Sunnmōre and the ruthless conditions, combined.

So too had the narcissistic young Shieldmaiden, swept her discriminating opinion through the mists of the West; Solanis, the Summit and the old dead tree, were the furthest point away from Halyven and likewise the  very destination she’d selected to recoup and recover after Hope. The region wasn’t home though. There was a constant procession of tourists which eliminated her desire for solitude and secrecy and still worse were the ones that she knew; those who (she felt) came to gawk at the repulsiveness of her abhorred masculine affliction. K’yarie was there, had shown up under the guise of requiring solar petals, and though the hum of attraction rang true, Valkyrie was more consumed by the undertow of vengeance.

After many weeks spent ‘escaping’ the vicinity of the Portal, colliding with strangers and brewing further in  her cess-pool of angst, the pale-pelted adolescent had slipped into the north -deliberately skirting west of Hope’s herd- and discovered a realm unlike any she’d come across thus far in her travels. The impact of the consequential optimism was instant, rewarding, and exciting. Though rain continued to fall without any sign of remission, she felt all at once warmer, not of course as a result of the climate -that was delightfully freezing- but  instead contentedness in familiarity, as though her striking blue eyes were caressing the snow-capped pinnacle of her own mountain home.

After a month (perhaps more) spent exploring the wet, wintry wonderland -shrouded in spangled twilight, ribbed with murky shadow- Valkyrie came at last upon a vast field of ice to the far east; a coast, she thought, that felt far more enticing than the stinking sea and sand to the south. The glorious frozen landscape, dotted with richer colour even then Solanis, spread out beneath the winged-one’s hooves, for as far as her enthralled stare cared to see. With the jagged teeth of Blood Falls (the river somewhere beneath it which had swollen and cloaked her in putrid tar), rising at her rear, she stepped carefully forward to pursue her blossoming curiosity. While she examined the sleek, snowy surface, wary -naturally- of cracks, it became apparent that something other than black, bottomless ocean lurked down beneath.

Intrigued, her soft, rosy lips descended, unaware that another stood yonder, doing much the same thing.

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


Notes for clarity:
- Valkyrie was cursed here. Physically she appears as a stallion, cannot remember why she hates men, and views others as the opposite gender.
- Vynter gave her a bead here that alters her body language to favour males.