This forum uses cookies
This forum makes use of cookies to store your login information if you are registered, and your last visit if you are not. Cookies are small text documents stored on your computer; the cookies set by this forum can only be used on this website and pose no security risk. Cookies on this forum also track the specific topics you have read and when you last read them. Please confirm whether you accept or reject these cookies being set.

A cookie will be stored in your browser regardless of choice to prevent you being asked this question again. You will be able to change your cookie settings at any time using the link in the footer.

Hello There, Guest!

| Register
Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook
» A New Frontier
Open Green Labyrinth 
Iskra
Currently championing: Caevoc
#21

Heaven if you sent us down
So we could build a
playground

you'd be so proud of what we've made

The haunting boom of Kaos' voice in a nearby land caught Iskra's wandering attention. He'd taken to exploring the strange new place between breaks in the worst of the constant rain. Back home he would have gone on adventures for fun, but here he was looking for other familiar and lost survivors, some place to safely call home, and even a way to get back home - a small sliver of hope for which remained nestled in his chest like a thorn.

Though Iskra wasn't necessarily jumping for joy at running into Kaos again, he was naturally curious about the world and figured it'd be a learning opportunity of nothing else. That and well he still felt that magical pull towards the beast, as if chained in someway to him, an incredibly upsetting thought. The notion that he either lacked a certain amount of free will and (or) had part of Kaos inside of him somehow, was horrifying to consider. Naturally, Iskra did his best to bury those thoughts; he had enough nightmare fuel without adding any more.

Unenthusiastically Iskra travelled towards the new, yet familiar place that he hadn't seen before. How had they missed a whole section of the Rift before now? As Kaos spoke and praised them, Iskra remembered that the mist had been too thick to see anything.
"Hmm," Iskra mused to himself, wondering what they had done to 'save' the area. Kaos was pleased about it and in a small, spiteful way Iskra wanted to make sure he stopped helping in any way possible. It was childish, but it was the only semblance of power he felt over this relationship with the deity devil.

When the creepy-floating-Kaos face just continued to peer out at them after its instructions, Iskra glanced around, still chewing over this new knowledge. He noticed Otem and Volterra nearby and began towards them, ignorant of their arguments. Iskra brightened at the sight of the short Gladiator and with an eager trot bounded up towards the group. "Hey!" he greeted those he knew, slipping in on the other side of Volterra, peering around the big stallion at Otem to whom he flashed a smile before turning his attention on his Sultan and Gladiator. "Pipp, you're okay!!"
he'd trade his guns for love
I s k r A
but he's caught in the crossfire



@Otem @Volterra @Pippigrin

Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.
Erebos
Currently championing:
#22
Take just what I came for

They all gathered, called, harkened, beckoned by the reaches of chaos – and while the prince knew his purpose (for knowledge, for future vengeance, for the binding of souls together, united in unrelenting crusades), he wasn’t certain of the others. The beast nodded towards Amaris, bending his head in the direction of her gilded form, piercing eyes sliding directly towards her gaze, extending a slight whisper, a meeting of the minds. “What else might he teach us?” His brow arched, lips twisted in feral, darkened humor, because they all understood very well of Kisamoa’s past tutelage – slaughter, desecration, murder, and mayhem, with a penchant for duplicity, cloaks, and daggers. Manipulation was a key ingredient in most of his promises and lies, and if Erebos didn’t despise the mere existence of the fiend before them, he might have admired his tactics.

Then Oizys slid alongside him, and he quirked his brow at her, leaning his cranium towards her quiet murmurs, flicking an ear, placing his stare on the swelling crowd as she spoke, considering, weighing the value of how much to say, how far to press, in the presence of those aligned with the demon. “I think we’re all fools to believe anything he says.” His words are quick and soft, a dulcet glimmer of sedition and rebellion, sliding in amidst the granules of maneuvering beings. He’s ruthless and tenacious, but not completely idiotic – he won’t denounce the being here, where he can hear, where he can stoke, where he can simply wipe them off this earth all over again. “Yet, here we are.” The laugh that followed his statement was void of amusement, coated in the lacquer and enamel of rancor, of bitterness, torn between the yearning to seethe and unravel right then and there, or to harbor his patience, his endurance, his fortitude, until the time was right. “Let me know if you learn anything we can use, and I shall do the same for you.” Then he morphed back into the scion of the northern lands, the General of the Basin, a little more regal, a little less seething, proffering Oizys a wink – because surely there was something they could utilize to put Kisamoa down. They’d slain all the gods it took to create him – how could they break everything apart again?

His mind was sharpened and carved for war, for corruption, for distortion – and the last thing he expected was Wessex’s statement in his ear, but he turned towards her monstrous form, stupefied, bewildered, eyes widening, jaw dropping, features emboldened and haunted. She’d seen Enyo. The youth’s heart was instantly restless, and he could feel Orsino reaching through him, growling, hissing, biting, snarling, and he still didn’t relent that feverish pitch of hope that still clung in between beats of bloodshed and fury. “Where? Which mountain?” His voice was hushed and quick, swift and ardent, and instantly his body wanted to do two things at once – race off into the distance to find the little sable griffin, and to stay, fending off the next brutal wave of misdirection and folly.





image credits

@Amaris @Oizys @Wessex
Amaris
Currently championing:
#23
Murmurs went through the gathered, more arrived, more still stood in relative silence, keeping their opinions to themselves - others weren't as careful, voicing their thoughts without putting much thought at all towards their words, just submitting the desire to share their innermost monologue with the world (as if the world cared to hear them).

Amaris was beginning to feel something, and it wasn't necessarily a positive thing. Had she been prone to displaying her feelings openly upon her façade, she might have sneered slightly, or snarled in distaste almost, as every fool and idiot strove to make their voice heard. But her face remained impassive, guarded, her thoughts her own, for even Dramyrth could not hear them at this moment.

The emotion was fleeting, and when it left again she was simply Amaris again, vaguely curious, but mostly tired, tired of all the same old rollercoaster of emotions and actions, bored of the inaction (even if that hypocritical of her to think, as she stood by, as inactive as the rest of them).

The dragonmare sighed, before nodding in return to Erebos' greeting, tilting an ear towards his words and offering a slight shadow of a smirk in response. "The only teacher worth learning anything from is our enemy," the dragonmare replied softly, before becoming a silent listener once more. She hadn't been shunned from her position near the roan steed by himself nor those who joined him, so she lingered, recognising Wessex and a few others from the Basin Festival.

Her heart lurched, as she recalled that event, from before she and Dramyrth entered the portal, from before the world ended. It hurt to remember, and while Amaris wasn't so foolish as to want to forget the events of her past just to preserve her precious feelings, she also didn't want to linger long on them right now, lest she be consumed by the pain and unable to live in the present moment.

It was then that she heard @Wessex announce that she had seen Erebos' missing companion - and Amaris was ashamed to realise that she hadn't noticed it before, the absence of the young griffin Enyo, and her heart broke all over again as she recalled Otem's words from earlier, from the Portal, '…some lost their companions altogether…'

Instinctively, she reached out for Dramyrth, and while she couldn't feel him through their bond, he reacted to the words similar as she, and gave a soft purr from his perch atop her withers in consolation. "I will assist you where I can in finding Enyo, @Erebos," she announced, hoping her words conveyed the true empathy she felt for him - had she lost Dramyrth entirely in the journey from there to here she would have fallen upon her own scythed tail in the hopes to join him in the afterlife; she could only imagine what the stallion felt with a part of his soul missing.

x x
Melita
Currently championing:
#24
It seemed to be just the same in her youthful mind. The false-God praised them, commended them, but it was forced, it was apprehensive, it was alarming, made her chest tie up in knots, made her heart pound with a ferocious fury. Perhaps it was anger, unchecked rage, a brewing, brooding force she’d yet to claim – reverently gentle, curious, and a bit loud in her upbringing, but never so callous, never so angry at the world. A portion of her knew it grew from fright, from alarm, from the possibility of her mother being another one of his victims (and she hadn’t seen anything, hadn’t been able to help, shoved into the abyss before she could scream for her dam) – and more from something else she could not quite name (was it hatred, though? Had she learned of contempt, of loathing, of despair?).

She didn’t bound now – didn’t relax, didn’t bounce, didn’t yield to her flights of fancy or whimsy. There was no point to that in this moment, in this occasion, when everyone clamored, growled, jeered, or cheered. She stood in the shadows for a few scarce moments, Sila nested in her wings, taking the opportunity the large crowd presented in looking for her mother – the familiar edges of gold, the tips of white dragon wings. More than once she tried to raise herself on lumps or logs, unsteady brush, but the maze and contortion of features, faces, made it nearly impossible. The little honeybee girl had to smother that ferocity down too, because the frustration was unending, seemingly eternal, asking her to break.

Not yet though – she fought against the vexation, the tears, and strived towards those in the gathering she did know, for protection, for guidance, for something other than standing on the outskirts, hoping for another to gallop into the wings and grant her the comfort, the serenity, she so desperately craved. Melita was tough, she was strong, and she was determined – no one was going to see her crumble, and as she dashed towards them, the gathering of Iskra, of Pippigrin, of Otem, sweet, familiar figures she’d come to cherish, the little girl tried her best small, tiny, insignificant smile, as if she were not splintering with the rest of them. “You’re all okay,” she breathed with a sigh of relief, stare turning to each of their frames and figures, recalling days where they hadn’t been worried, hadn’t been concerned, hadn’t been doing anything but playing amidst the sands.

Those moments were long gone.

Melita
let me live that fantasy
art | codes

@Iskra @Pippigrin @Otem
Weaver
Currently championing:
#25

ask no questions

Good job! booms a now familiar and grating voice. She wants to like him, really, she does, but she can’t get passes pissed off and annoyed. Kaos really needs to give her something to fight soon or she’s going to explode. The last time he had appeared, she’d kept to herself and kept her mouth shut because that was a much better plan than getting herself killed. Even if dying as a temporary thing, she wasn’t a huge fan of it. Coming back to life was time consuming and painful and always left her weak, and it felt like she had to start from scratch trying to run the mountains. So she’d rather not get herself blown up or eaten by darkness or whatever.

She was late to the party, but it was clear what he they were talking about. She’s about to open her mouth, about to protest, about to point out that Kaos hadn’t lied. Weaver was raised by the Raven Queen, after all, the master of deception and half truths. Straia rarely lied, she simply painted the picture you wanted to see while showing you the real picture at the very same time. Kaos had done the same thing. He brought peace to his world, he saved his world. He never said he was going to save Helovia, he never said he was going to bring them peace. She believed every word he said, she just had to figure out what was between the lines.

Wessex says something softly to Erebos and he perks. The dragonmare she’d met before is there, offering help, but Weaver’s eye linger on the blood on Wessex’s horns. “You okay?” Weaver asks, knowing that her fellow solider was more than capable of taking care of herself, but this place was hell, and not very many had walked the depths of hell except for her. Her attention flicks to Erebos as well, “You still have a corporal to help.” Help with what exactly, she’s not sure, because she missed most. But she throws the offer out there anyway, caring more for the horses around her than she ought. Caring is a weakness she can’t afford in this place, and yet she cares for too many.

- weaver -

and you'll be told no lies

Image | Quote by Charles Dickens


@Wessex @Erebos @Amaris ...joins party late
Lyanna
Currently championing:
#26

let the winds erase me,

like the memory of a kiss

He calls to them again, and she goes, because she does not know what else to do. She doesn’t trust him, doesn’t like him, but he is their new god even if she doesn’t agree. This wasn’t a life she got to pick at all, but then again, when had she ever chosen for herself? She’d been born a princess, thrust into that role whether she wanted it or not. Lyanna never cared about the roll, but she cared about her family and so she played princess for them. The title had come easily to her because Morham had been her everything, because if serving Morham meant being it’s princess, than that is what she would do. Leaving had never been her choice. Maybe she should have died with her family, but to what end?

Helovia had sort of been a choice. Really, it had come down to the simple fact that the place seemed far away from Morham and full of magic and colorful creatures. Helovia had been a place where she and Adelene could get lost, and Adelene had done so to a much higher degree. The girl had disappeared at the threshold, and that had been the last time Lyanna ever saw her. The Edge had been her choice, and she’d served the Edge as she’d served Morham because the place had given her hope where she’d had none, but still, the Edge had not been her first home.

Now? Now she had no home at all. Now she wandered, uncertain and aimless. So when he calls, she goes, because there are no other options.

A familiar gold form is in the crowd and Lyanna makes her way over, just in time to notice as Zani leaps from the mare’s back and darts toward Kaos. Lyanna takes off after the serval, hoping to catch up to the little creature before he gets to a rather unforgiving God. It’s easier for a feline to move through this crowd though, but Lyanna tries to shove her way through, tries to catch up to the piece of her friend that’s trying to speak to a God, which is somewhat hilarious considering the little mewl that escapes from his maw. “Yael!” she calls, nodding her head in the direction of the companion. “Zani,” she yells back, still trying to make sure she stays with the serval.  

lyanna

let these waters takes me

Image © Rhiaan


@Yael
Kisamoa
Currently championing:
#27
normal for the SPIDER
KAOS for the fly
Oh gods, how they bickered and ..talked. The eager lightning arcing in his eyes dulled. This was how they—? How they repaid him? How they obeyed him? This was how they explored? Maybe the minds of others, their souls, every nook and cranny (yes, that meant something else—), but not his lands.

Their lands. This was their home now. They were in this together, but it hadn't gone through their thick skulls yet, it seemed.

Kisamoa lingered, a tall, dark presence, looming somewhere above, beyond, sometimes hard to look at because of the way he kept on shifting. Wisdom had no place in madness, rationality no place in chaos, but for a moment, he only looked disappointed—or more.

He looked hurt, if you could see past the twisted mouth and intense eyes. They had been good, they had explored, they had brought life back to the Mists, and he had brought them, called to them, eager to share with them what they had uncovered together: his Mists!

But they lingered, sheep in a flock. His eyes sparked to life, began to burn, and for a moment, he found himself meeting the gaze Otem cast his way. She was an oasis in an endless desert of desolation, a ray of hope in a crumbled world—as best as he could, he mouthed Sorry at her, before his patience with them broke.

"STOP TALKING!" he roared at the gathered horses, his voice a thunderclap. "Go! Go on! Go explore! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

And he did not want to be questioned, so the air burst into clouds of black and teal, a threat and a reminder. Do as I say.

Please get your exits in! <3 This thread will be archived in ~1 weekish :]
.. and kaos opened up its eyes
Volterra
Currently championing:
#28


V O L T E R R A

There's a blur, then suddenly a tiny figure is beside him. After being momentarily taken aback by the speed at which Pippigrin managed to approach him, Volterra's tense jaws quickly lapse into a large, welcoming smile. It doesn't reach his eyes, but nothing ever does these days. A small muzzle appears in front of his own and he returns the gesture with surprising gentleness, showing the affection that he holds for his former brother of the sand. "Pippigrin, it is good to see you again." Familiar faces are always welcome in this vast land of strangers, so the tiny pegasus's presence is welcomed.

It seems that the stallion speaking to Otem is set to offer no rebuke to Volterra's swift telling-off, so the beast turns his attention away from him and onto Pippigrin and the newly-arrived Iskra. The three of them here are a little section of Helovia, three sand-brothers out of their home but still together. It fills the beast's aching heart with joy to have these two precious reminders of his past here, and he is hardpressed to contain his gratitude at their very presence.

His attention is drawn by Kaos's swift shouted command, and he resists the urge to pin his ears at the foul heathen. It's best to make himself scarce before he says or does something stupid. "Stay safe, you two," he says to Pip and Iskra. "If you are ever in trouble or in need of help, do not hesitate to summon me. The Throat lives on in us - it is important that we all stay strong." He might no longer be a Sultan in name, but he will always be one in nature.

He nods his massive head to his children present, and casts a final wary glance at the man who had been speaking to Otem; he intends to slip away immediately but instead finds himself lingering for a moment, waiting to see if anything else happens before he takes his leave.

image credits


Talks to Iskra and Pippigrin

Mbwana
Currently championing:
#29


There is not much to see, save for a crowd of people who babble amongst themselves. In this form Mbwana slips under the radar - none of the gathered horses seem overly concerned to have a predator lurking in their midst, or indeed two predators if Askari is to be counted. He is slightly perturbed at being ignored, but decides that it is probably for the best, what with the imminent threat of Kaos to take everyone's mind off the dog that lurks among them.

There is not much to be gleaned here, save for snatches of conversation that mean little to the colt in his dog's skin. It isn't long before Kaos himself speaks and commands his minions to go out and explore, something that Mbwana has been doing to the best of his ability without any prompting. Being here seems rather pointless, then, so he growls at Askari to follow him and begins to lope away through the fog. There's now a whole set of new lands to explore, and that's enough to keep the inquisitive pair's dual attention for now at least. The Rift is a fascinating, if scary, place and there's lots more to see before Mbwana can consider himself truly a part of it.

With Askari following dutifully behind him, Mbwana leaves the area at a speedy lope, almost as if he wasn't ever there at all.

M B W A N A
image credits
Oizys
Currently championing:
#30
AS GOD IS MY WITNESS, I'D RATHER BE DANGEROUS

One corner of her mouth curls up at Erebos's retort. His final words elicit more of a reaction, in the form a loyal response to befit their old roles of General and Soldier. "The same to you," she says, although her eyes never leave the hideous creature in the distance. She has always loathed Kaos - she had doubts when he healed her about whether he was really truly evil, but Helovia's massacre proved that her instincts had been correct. The death of her mother should have told her enough about the heathen, yet she'd still felt herself falling victim to his charm like so many others. The fact she now lives in his lands, at his beck and call, where his wrath can end them at any minute....it is a powerlessness that she does not like, not in the slightest.

As the heathen addresses them, she can feel her spine tingle with hatred. How dare he order them around like that, as though he owns the place? It is not right, it is not proper, and it fills the gargoyle with an unholy rage. She manages to control herself with considerable effort and decides that it's best to take her leave before she says or does anything she'll regret, so with a final huff of disgust at Kaos and a respectful nod to Erebos, she slips away into the depths of the fog.

image credits