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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook
A Light to Guide You [SWP]
Open Green Labyrinth 
Roscorro the Dragon Heart
Currently championing: Caevoc
#11
Roscorro
He ate it! Roscorro gapped at the Metus as he devoured the glowing orb of light. What the heck? He was so surprised by the event that he had not noticed Otem's previous look. If he had been able to speak, he would have been at a loss for words. He had hoped that the Magnus Metus would come to accept the piece of hope this time around. And he had. But not in the way anyone had expected. He remained stunned as he watched the now glowing hunter thank them than disappear. His head cocked in total confusion and he looked to Otem for confirmation that that did indeed just happen. Her own expression confirmed it form him. Blinking he tipped his head the other way. Hm. Well that was a whole lot easier than it had been before.

Hope had been restored to the Metus, and he would honor the hunter's request to not come near his lair anymore. Though how could the scent of so few horses scare away prey? He did not understand it, but what did he know about this world? Perhaps prey was more easily spooked by unfamiliar smells then the prey animals in other locations within the rift. Still, hope had been brought to the labyrinth. Their job was complete. He gave a smile to Otem then turned to leave. He would return to where they last encountered the Matrons on the beach, as she had asked them too. Though a report would need to be given by another horse.

talk talk talk talk
You Can be king again
image credit
You have my permission to use magic/force against Roscorro.
Maiming and killing is not allowed, though. 
K'yarie the Hopebringer
Currently championing:
#12
The younger mare did not seem to like what she had to say. Even though she had been quite impressed that she had survived two encounters and had gotten the silent metus to speak with her. But petty feelings were not the Frisian's problem. The stranger was young and had obviously wanted to act important in front of everyone. K'yarie merely brushed off her look with a sweet smile.

The black and blue stallion spoke, telling her that he would be fine. All she could do was nod. It was not like she could argue with him on the matter. And so she moved beside him when they approached the lair of the met us. His hiss filled ghe air as he and Otem exchanged words. His form was weak and thin. Far from the terrifying beast that prowled labyrinth. It was sad to see the great creature fall so low.

Her chin lifted in surprise when the met us devoured the ball of light offered. Was that healthy? Or had it reached a new level of desperation in its hunger? What ever the case it thanked them and moved on. She watched it go before turning away. "Well done." She told Otem.

"Shall we return to the Matron?" She asked the dark clad stallion. He had to be sick of trekking back and forth on the whims of the Matron. Perhaps he should rest instead of going off to the beach again. She waited for his reply, not paying the other two much mind.

talk talk talk talk
still, the flowers open as she passes
and the birds they sing to greet her
though she heaves blood.
there is grace in a steeple collapsing.
K'yarie
image credit to lrargerich @ flickr.com
Waker
Currently championing:
#13
WAKER
You're not having a good day. It's just that simple—ever since the siren bit you in the lake, you've felt angry, restless and bitter, frustrated in a way the little ball of hope can't fix. It's taken the edge off of your mood, but it still simmers in your gut, a slow-boiling hell-brew you're somewhat familiar with. You've always been a good kid, but being a good kid wasn't mutually exclusive with being capable of anger and hurtful words.

All the happenings are pushing you closer and closer to that point. You offer the only kind of help you can to the Metus, and it spits on it. It laughs at your question, responds with a snide remark—an echo of its previous ones—and you feel like yelling something profane and storming off. Like, fuck you, I tried.

Your ears flatten against your neck and you draw a deep breath.

You're not here to fight, and if the mouse is anything to judge by, he'll make quick work of you. So you inhale, exhale, tell yourself that this isn't about you, but about the Rift, a task bigger than your bruised feelings, like a war without a clear enemy.

Then, the Metus snatches up a piece of hope—whose, you don't quite catch, because it splits like soft butter in the hand of the predator—and shoves it into his weird, razor-toothed jaw. Stunned, you watch the proceedings. What the hell? He starts glowing, and lumbers back into his den. You're left staring after him, then you stare at your equine companions, and they're all looking equally shocked and mystified.

"You're welcome?" you say, half-loud, after the retreating, glowing hunter, figuring someone ought to acknowledge his thanks.

"Shall we return to the Matron?" You flick an ear and turn your head, seeing Night Sky by your side again. Dragon Man has already begun to go back, and you're suddenly terrified of being left behind, in this place where you can't tell north from south and the fog is swirling and the distance is howling

"Yes," you simply say, perhaps a bit too fast, and with a glance to make sure that Otem is coming, too—and that the Metus isn't charging out of its cave at you all—you trot after Dragon Man.