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Open Rainforest Cliffs 
Currently championing:
feed your demons
He has waited.

He has waited and watched these Helovians and their magic breathe life back into the Rift. He has smirked and grinned as Rifitans awoke from their dying slumbers.

This was right. As right as foreign gods ripping out the hearts of his world. As right as the deicide of those that fruited life in this world.

And then, he was done waiting. His ever-shifting, ever-mutating body appeared—great and giant and terrible—formed from the sharp shadows and neon light that were now apart of this world. For those that held any part of him: amulets of his blood, necklaces of his chosen, mutations from his power, or gifts of his choosing—these items now burned and pulled you towards his great apparition along the very edge of the dense Rainforest Cliffs.

A swift, ocean spray brought sharp droplets stinging through the air. And the Drench-laden skies rumbled ominously above; though only a light mist fell from them for the moment. The murky light caused Kisamoa’s teal, black-veins eyes to glow with intensity as he looked around for a few moments…

Then, he spoke. “Welcome,” he said first, to these newcomers, a grin showing ever-mismatched teeth, “And welcome home,” he said to those turncoat Rifitans that had abandoned his realm, his grin growing sharper, more feral.

“Do you like my gifts?” his ever-mutating eyes honed in on the many bodies that now joined him in mutantcy. “And the friends that I bring?” he asked of his native Riftians—those loyal souls that had remained in the Rift.

A brief silence respite from his booming, deep, smoothly soul-shaking voice as he waited for answers.

Then, with a swift edge, he spoke again, “I think there are too many judgements, too much prejudice against my home,” he frowned slightly, “Quite rude of any guest, really. Perhaps something to teach you manners?” He hummed lightly, in thought.

Learn of the Rift, of my home. Of those evil, awful gods you 'so rightfully' killed. Maybe you’ll learn to like it here,” a deep chuckle, “Or, maybe you’ll just learn to survive,” a causal shrug of his mismatched shoulders.

“And you,” he looked to the natives, Teach them of our land, ” this was no request, as shown by the scarily flinty glint in his gaze. “These guests did save it, after all.”
i am kaos

Kisamoa seems to think it would behoove Helovians to learn more about this region of the Rift. And you Riftians--don't think he didn't notice you giving up on his beloved realm...perhaps you ought to help these Helovians out and teach them a thing or two.
This Southern Seas Guide might come in handy ;]
.. and kaos opened up its eyes
Currently championing:

She knew what this was.

A summons, beckoning to her, calling…

Her head lifts, the ever-bite of her frosty flesh forgotten as her giggles peal forth in yearning to be with Him again; her Master. The teal eye glows and pulses, gently bounds forth like the reach of the sea upon the shore, guiding her floating steps, and giddy delight to be near his power, once more.

When she arrives upon the scene, she pulls to the forward of the group, not lingering in the hind, her eyes surveying all before her, the kitten upon her back regally casting her gaze about the strangers which throng about, their faces writ with fear, or disgust. Few do not hate being here, they note, to one another.

Few understand what he could give, if he could take.

Her eyes seek to hold him, to meet his own ebon marred sea-tones, his figure ever changing in visualization of the sheer might which comprised his being, and Beloved’s mouth wets with desire, her giggles silenced in reverence of her God.

strength in numbers?
I’m counting you like sheep.

images by littlewillow-art@DA - code by me
ashes, ashes
they all fall down

please tag beloved for opening posts & mentions in group threads only
Currently championing:
So, I’ve never had possessed artifacts before. It’s probably needless to say, then, that the sudden heat which imbues the pendants on my chest, and the annoying niggling of their carapaces towards a different region of the woodland, draws some measure of surprise from me.

"What the fuck?" I ask them, stopping to stare down at their round bodies. An ear flicks back, before a deep, unsettling pain in my groin starts to stab and grind about; now both ears are back, and my teeth are gritted, my hind legs almost buckling. "Ah!"

I gasp, head bowing down towards my chest, sweat suddenly springing up all across my body in cold-hot chills. As it seems to subside, I look out towards where the necklaces seem to tug me, glowering all the while, and turn about towards that general area, pausing to look back at Duir, to make sure he’s noticed the change in my path (our mental bond still strained). No sooner than my hooves stop moving, though, than the pain is back, with a vengeance; falling to one knee with a pained gasp, I pant as I heave myself back up to all fours.

Better go, my buck remarks with concern, and so we do.

I’m not surprised to find him at the end of our path. Still, the sight of him makes my whole chest fill with icy water, which then seems to harden into metal, which spreads rapidly across all the rest of me. Coming to a stop among everyone else arriving, trying to find a place with those I know (my daughters, especially, if they are here), just in case shit breaks bad, I listen to what the murderer has to say with a grim, cold expression. I try to not remember what he did.

I do, anyway.

Same as I remember Ming Yue, starved, dying, saved by my God from this one’s fetid land. An aggressive frown finds purchase on my face. I hear his request to learn of the land and want to shout at him: What other choice is there for us, now?!

He knows that, though. He’s a God, after all. That what we must do to survive plays into his hand so well makes my stomach roil with dark anger, impotent and useless against a force that had smote those who’d given me my power to begin with. That bleak reality, this feeling of weakness, makes the anger grow hotter, until the metal within me becomes molten, and starts to swirl.

in every heart a hole
Image Credit
just want one thing - just to play the king
but the castle’s crumbled & you’re left with just a name

please tag rikyn for opening posts & mentions in group threads only
Currently championing:

Her sparks wouldn’t stop sparking.

At first, it had been fun; the light headedness that usually came after never arrived, and the sparks didn’t slow down. Prancing about, pretending intermittently to be both a pretty dancer and a very serious warrior, the delight lasted for several minutes, before it started to hurt.

Ouch!” she exclaims, her mid-air leap suddenly halted, her limbs gracelessly thumping down to earth, and her nose reaching back to rub her back, where the sparks were seeming to hurt her. Noticing as she does so that they are arcing all in one direction (before one zaps her on the nose, again, at least), she lets her eyes wander that way.

Lots of people seem to be going that direction, she notices, yelping and leaping towards the mass exodus to wherever, when her back bites her again. Looking for her mother, and hopefully finding her (all the while being nipped by her usually painless and pretty magic), Gwyn sets off towards the summons.

Her father is already there, and she makes her way towards him, blissfully unaware of the complicated nature of her parent’s relationship (as most children are). Though, certainly, she’d noticed they spent less time together, her father was also often patrolling, or looking around for new and better things for everyone. Gwyn had thus deduced that it was this place that had caused the problem, if there was one at all.

Happily smiling at him, also blissfully unaware of the hostility brewing behind his stormy expression, she casts her eyes to the strangely warping God, feeling trepidation and curiosity both rise in her belly. She had only ever seen the Time God once, and though the sight of his fireworks was forever emblazoned in her memory, it was a fleeting moment for a child. He was otherwise only real in her father’s stories, and the other Gods were just figments, fleeting glimpses she had caught moments before they had died.

So her mind did not let her remember them, because it was too traumatizing.

For the young filly, the frightful thing to which they have all been drawn is ultimate power, regardless of everyone’s distrust and fear of him. For Gwyn, this was God, and life; the darkness conquered hope, and cast it into the shadows.

But hope – hope still shines.

It’s evident in how she forgets to listen to the God at all, once it becomes evident nothing to interesting is happening; more curious are those who have come, some very bizarre, and exotic, and even more pressing to her is the desire to spot her grandfather. Though she does not see a spotted coat, dismay does not find its way into her thoughts, which are far too preoccupied with the bustle of many strangers, and vaguely familiar faces.

’cause you’ve got teeth like a wolf
but you cry like a sheep

Image & Code by Me

I'm just wild
so sit the f#@k down

please tag gwyn for opening posts & mentions in group threads only
Currently championing:
"Mommy! Requiem!" starts Gabriel, roused from his sleep by the sudden heat which has infused his father’s tiger mask. No sooner does his head pop up, bleating with fear, than it begins to wobble, seeming to lunge out towards the heart of the jungle. "What’s happening?!"

He’s on his hooves, soon, literally forced there by the incessant movement of the mask. Gabriel’s heart thuds with fear in his chest, his legs tremble, and his cheeks are already wet with tears, born almost no sooner than he’d opened his eyes, and realized what was happening. Distraught and unsure what to do, he looks from his sister to his mother in terror, that expression becoming all the more so when the mask seemingly drags him across the terrain by several inches.

A sharp scream ushers out of his mouth, his tiny legs driving down into the earth, attempting to be like trees, or mountains, steady and unmoving, but nothing worked. The mask was still hot and restless, and every now and again, it drags his tiny, weak body a little bit further.

"I’m scared!" he bleats and cries, his head craning out towards his twin and dam, eyes clenched shut, and lower lip trembling pitifully, "I… I don’t wanna go away!"

But, go away, he does; inch by inch, foot by foot, no matter how his family tries to stop the progression, they eventually find themselves before the horrible God that had brought them here to begin with. Though the bone cools and calms down, settling against the boy’s shoulder again as he comes to a frightened halt and peers at long last from his shuttered eyes (they’ve been shut almost all the while, you see), he finds no comfort in it. A cold sensation begins to pool up in his belly, his heart erratically beating in his chest.

He takes in the frightening Gods words, somehow managing to become more afraid. Though his crying has become quiet sniffles and silent leakage, he unleashes a rather sorrowful sound as the scary divine mentions getting to know the old Gods of this place.

My mask… he thinks, looking at it, feeling his heart fall into a pit of himself he didn’t know he had. What if it was taken away from him? My father gave me this! He painfully thinks, looking back at the lying God, afraid for the future.

You, of course, are a rose –
But were always a rose.

image | coding

@Requiem @Ranjiri
They would not find me changed from him they knew - 
only more sure of all I thought was true.

please tag gabriel for opening posts & mentions in group threads only
Currently championing:
& I think to myself


What now?! grumpily thinks the girl to herself, watching her pots hop through the jungle, towards the shore she’d brought them to some days before. That they aren’t ablaze or trailing snow (as they often did, now days) is a blessing enough, she supposes, but this new conundrum is, to say the least, annoying. Already feeling her back and leg begin to itch as she trots after them, she takes a deep breath, and tries to calm herself.

Then she reaches out, to grab her glow-tree. As if on command, its suddenly freezing, and she lets go of it with a yelp. No sooner than she releases it, though, and its back to normal. With a frustrated growl, she tries again, this time forcefully grabbing it, and tossing it back towards the small grove she’d been staying in.

Instantly ablaze, this time, it singes her lips, and leaves her groping the burned flesh with her tongue, her body itching like crazy as she pivots about to shout at the plant, which has resumed hopping towards the sea – not on fire.

"REEEAAAARGHHHH!!!!" expunges the girl from the depths of her being, hearing a plop-splash in the sea behind her. Turning around with terror, she is quite horrified to see her other two potted plants bobbing back towards the mainland.

Galloping and leaping into the water after them, her legs churn below her, desperately trying to catch up, and bring them back. No matter how she tries, though, they seem to outpace her, but also, are oddly floating (not that she notices, completely fed up with everything, at this point in the game). Behind the two plants and yearling is the third, making a rather peculiar fleet making their way across the rain tousled ocean.

She had, of course, tried to regain mastery over her plants once more, when they’d made it ashore, on the other side. It hadn’t worked. Stubborn and magical, they’d plodded on, and by the time she arrives on the mass gathering, her forelock is singed, her lips burned, and her face both burned by frost and flame alike. Her bell flowers had even electrocuted her, on her last attempt, and so, now, Maude had forfeited, glumly following along after her possessed plants – one of the few things she had left of her home, even if they were apparently inherently evil.

Glaring at the contemptuous God, who clearly finds making her plants malevolent and making her turn slowly into a lizard or something was funny (though she certainly couldn’t hear him, merely making assumptions based off of his weird, stupid face), she looks down at her plants, wondering if things will ever go back to normal again.

what a wonderful world

Image by Stephan Mignon@Flickr - Code by Me
it's always darkest before the dawn

please tag maude for opening posts & mentions in group threads only
Currently championing:
You like me best
When I'm off my Rocker

The day was exciting, or not. Castiella skipped about the land. His bright eyes glowed in the dark neon light. It was ominous, but it filled her with so much happiness. She loved this land, except for the fucking glowing eyes. She snapped at a bush, and one of the creatures ran away. "Serves you right ass hole!." Her voice filled the air as she just giggled. This fucking creatures had something else coming to them. Just wait. Silky strands floated behind her. It was like a soft wave of cream following her where ever she went. Her bodice sparkled and glittered with child like innocence. She was straying very far from that role now. Father was dead; mother was half crazy, brother was a kitty boy.... A SEXY kitty boy. Fuck it; she family was insane why can't she be a little crazy? It would only make sense right? Giggles filled the air around her as she happily decided that is was okay to be CRAZY.

Blood splattered orbs looked at the shrubs around her, those fucking flowers! Black flowers here, black flowers there, BLACK FLOWERS EVERYWHERE. When will the madness end!? Then her eyes looked at her hooves both pale hooves were growing flowers on them. Great! Now she was a fucking FLOWER POT! Coal colored ears pinned sharply against her sparking back. Arcs jumped all around her, and static sounds filled the air. Then, dual colored hooves stomped and pounded into the ground. "DIE YOU FUCKING FLOWERS! GET OFF OF ME! " Her voice snarls, but it was useless. It was making it WORSE. More black liquid dripped from her chest, and well just guess what that means. More black flowers started to form. If it was not for the hole in her chest dragging her forward, Castiella might have been stomping and screaming all day. Instead, she was FORCED to follow the others. Her eyes rolled with annoyance. It was not like Cas to conform to other people. Then she heard a voice speaking. Suddenly her attitude changed. Her hooves began trotting closer. Arcta jingled and clanked the chain was magic. She loved her Arcta, but it was heavy. Mother usually carried it for her, but NO NOT ANYMORE. She just hung the chain around her wings and totted it around. Finally, her teal orbs saw the glowing eyes of Kaos. She giggled as she squirmed through the crowd making her way up front. Blood drenched eyes brightened as she looked upon the god. For ONE second she forgot about the fucking black flowers. Oh, maybe she will have a chance to make more FRIENDS. Yes, that is what she should call them... Friends...


@Akriel Cause I tag him everywhere <3

image | coding
Violence may be used at any time, but Castiella is volatile 
 {Image: UbaggXG.png}
Currently championing:
You gotta have the patience and believe you're gonna make it
Gotta hold on

She followed the flood of horses towards the edge of the cliffs at a distance, a mere shadow amidst the underbrush of the forest as the light-eating acorn consumed the pale gleam of her pelt and any light penetrating the overcast sky along the way. Silently she went, her footfall soundless; her mother had taught her the tricks of sneaking from a young age, and though she had not put the skill to practice in the past it came in handy now as she attempted to approach the gathering unnoticed. As others emerged onto the cliffs, Erthë huddled in the underbrush and peered out through the thicket with a gnawing sense of unease weighing at her, as if she already knew what she was about to behold.

And, sure enough, there he was. Kisamoa, the so called 'god' of chaos. Demon, was more accurate. Deceiver, murderer, liar, trickster... She could think of many names for him and they all amounted to the same thing, carried the same meaning.

A darkness welled up inside the young mare as she with narrowed gaze regarded the creature, a deep anger rising like bile through her throat and burned on the tongue like not even the magic flame dripping from her hair and wings could manage. There were no curses vile enough to express the hatred and contempt she felt towards Kaos; he brought out the very ugliest sides of her just by being there, just by standing there all smug and smiling while memories cut her like shards of broken glass, reopening wounds that might never truly heal. Certainly they had not had time to even scab over since last she saw him. The terror of the massacre was still fresh with her, a yellow stain of shame and humiliation as she had been conquered by the fear of death and obliteration; Erthë nearly choked on it now and knew her hide was darkening with sweat just from looking at Kaos, her whole body stiff and trembling, ready to turn and run away again at the slightest hint of danger.

Yet she forced herself to stay, the soft lips twisted into a grimace of loathing and distaste as she heard him speak - as if there mere sound of his voice was enough to induce nausea and left a bad taste in her own mouth.

'Guests', were they? In her homeland, guests always had the option of going back home. 'Prisoners' was the correct term for them, self-made thralls condemned to a life of servitude the moment they chose life over death. Erthë had not even been able to choose for herself; the foals in her stomach had made that choice for her before she even knew what a burden they would place upon her, and not a moment passed that she did not regret her decision to spare them. Perhaps that was why she could not truly love them, handsome little boys though they were. Though innocent of crime, their mere existence was a shackle around her throat she could not escape.

Now, it seemed that Kisamoa was taking great pleasure in yanking the chain.

Heavy waves of deepest despair constricted the throat of the little mare as she heard Kisamoa issue his last commands, and she staggered back deeper into the thick undergrowth, conflicting emotions raging within her.

On one hand, Erthë loved learning new things. She had made it her life mission to explore and understand the world around her, had devoted all her energies and thoughts to earth and sea, from the high heavens and the deep abyss to the unseen forces that governed the universe. It would have been a pleasure for her to unravel the mysteries of this strange world if she had been able to do it on her own terms, but now it felt as if Kaos had turned her own nature against her by making it a command.

She would never bow her head to Kisamoa. Sooner would she slay her own children and lay waste to this world he seemed to love so much before she bent knee and prayed to him as a god. Her whole being raged against the idea, but even as she spat and swore and vowed vengeance upon the betrayer for all he had done, a small quiet part of her felt a sting of doubt.

Who was she to rebel against such a powerful being? What choice did she really have, other than to obey? For all that she claimed she would have died rather than do as she was told, fact of the matter was that she stood there now, alive and well and unable to truly throw Kisamoa's words back into his face, for she had no desire to wilt and die out of starvation, nor did she wish to fall prey to some monster because she refused to learn how to deal with it.

"Curse you" Erthë hissed between clenched teeth, raging hopelessness turning her eyes into pale diamond as she stared at the demon. "Damn you, may you be sent back into whatever hellhole you crawled out of... I will find a way to repel you, just you wait. I will survive, and I will counteract you with every breath I take, demon, even if it is the last thing I do..."

Praying fervently to her dead goddess that she was not just spouting empty threats, Erthë turned her attention over to the crowd and began to commit the faces of everyone she saw to memory, noting their expressions and actions in an attempt to determine who she might be able to count on and whom she would have to look out for in the future.

I know you're tired of surviving but you gotta keep on trying
Hold on!

• Magic and violence may always be used against Erthë!
Currently championing:

They had grown…The gold crowned head shook, trying to rid his mind of them, but they were there, and on his back. White scales now stretched the length of his spine and sprouted from the sides of his mane all the way to his poll. Had they not been on his back he might had admired their beauty. A pearly white reflecting the neon colors of this world. But they were not some randomly found trinket. They were attached to him. And they weren’t coming off.

And today it seemed, they would also be a beacon. He had just stepped from under the roots they nested in when the scales shivered and sent a chill down his spine before they began to heat. The scales lifted, pulling, and the gold found his legs drawn to a direction. Yet…the gold does not give too much effort in resisting. As he looks back at his small sleeping tree, where Haldir still slept, he lets himself be taken, doing his best to not let himself question his own motives. Not question why he felt it was ok to let some strange force pull him from his family.

So he ended up here, in the growing gathering. Earth eyes spark with gold as they recognize faces, pleased to see not all had perished. Certainly not all. Then the wanna-be-god speaks. The gold listens with an annoyed air, but humored the creature who for some reason found use for them. Perhaps he was having a good laugh afterall. Shaking his head the gold lets the message become clear. Learn? What else were they going to do. They’d have to learn or be killed by some glowing eyed cretin. Some snap their anger, but the gold could care less, other than to sit back and wait for fireworks, he was ever watchful, ever a shadow. Learning and mindful already.

"talk talk talk"

Credits: Image by FROSTIE!
Currently championing:
He never liked being left. The colt had woken from his small doze to see Da heading off. The pale ears fall back. Where was he going? Da rarely went off so early. The colt looked back at the sleeping dark stag and family, his mind moving through his choices. It wasn’t a terribly hard one to make. The pale colt scurried up and slipped out into the forest.

Though he had not a drop of Kaos’s blood on him, the mutations of the colt, flaming on his back did grow hotter, and wilder, pulled like to a draft of air. The colt doesn’t have much time to process the change though as he slips through the world following his father’s tracks. That was a new skill, and one the colt was particularly good at. He could already follow a small hare through the woods. That wasn’t the problem. It was when the hair skipped through a bush and he had to go around and find it again that was the problem. He didn’t want to set any more bushes on fire.

He rounded the outskirts of some meeting, careful to try and not attract attention. Da would be proud of that, but he might not be happy to know his son followed him. So the colt kept low. He knew many here. Gwyn. Castiella. Gabriel. And others. But he did not approach. If he started to play he might be noticed. So he hung back, burning in the back and watching. This Kiasomoa…that is who Da cursed the name of, the one who brought them here…who destroyed Helovia… A shiver ran down his spine even given his flames. The colt listened…and wondered, this didn’t sound like a tyrant? Unsure and unknowing what he really meant the colt kept quite, listening. Though maybe not watching and listening for the same reasons, he was indeed the gold’s son.