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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook
Searching for a needle in a haystack
Trial Rainforest Cliffs 
Eira
Currently championing: Reszo
#1
Eira...
Although many long months had passed since the rash had first appeared upon her then, unblemished skin, the small blue orphan had not for one second forgotten the whispering voice which had accompanied it. 

Nothing before it had been so intrusive, entering her very intimate thoughts and extorting her vulnerable position in the world, for the sake of her own comfort - put simply, Eira was to complete a set of three tasks, one of which was to harvest the organs of the rare Living Tree. She had been trawling the rainforest for most of that time, searching for the elusive creature who she could only assume, looked just like any of the other ancient timber residents crowded together.

While her new companions, Vynter and Roscorro attended to business of their own, the emaciated filly took up the search once again. Sensibly she remained in the same near vicinity as the others, but foraged with fierce focus about the roots, looking for any sign that one might not be as ordinary as it seemed. Drench’s relentless downpour had already melted away the scabs formed with the aid of the clever colt’s herbs, and though the body-wide wound was clean and without puss for now, its magical fringes festered and the raw, exposed flesh stung agonisingly.

As she fossicked, slipping precariously atop a broad ridge of surface roots, there came as though from nowhere, a sudden volt of lightening. It struck close beside her deadened hind leg, and as grounded into the saturated, littered soil below, the hair upon her stood up rigid in their grey follicles - the second curse, the second mention of that heinous voice through her subconscious. Since that moment (another set of three tasks prescribed), the limb had tingled and grown numb, and sporadic forks of electrical energy exploded to life just shy of her thrilled flesh.

As the light burst beside her, a violent crack splitting the forest’s natural quietude, Eira leapt sideways and accidentally tripped across rock; the rock was lathered in Screaming Moss - and scream it did. Horrified, for she usually stepped with the most meticulous care, the blue horse stood unfortunately paralysed with fear and her long leonine tail clenched down hard between the blackened points of her hocks. Panicked blue eyes darted through the undergrowth, all too aware of the dangers such carelessness attracted.
"I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden


Notes: Eira needs to find and harvest organs from the Living Tree :(  Also, any are welcome to join!
Rift Presence
Currently championing:
#2
He had heard the creature carelessly trampling through his forest. He had sensed the Rift's grasps on the child's body, and could feel it eating away at her leg and flesh with a vengeance. He could even seen the girl from so far, limping and thriving although she was so frail and sickly. The Tree could relate all too well, except he wished that he could continue to persevere like she.

It was no secret that the Rift had prioritized the Lignum as its main target; simply because the Trees held such pure; unadulterated magic. They would feast upon their epicenter of magical organs like an all you can eat buffet; and it took all of the Tree's power to keep himself hidden away long enough to remain untouched. Yet he had lived for eons, had seen this world build and destroy itself over and over again; and he was so very tired.

There was only so much time left for this Lignum; maybe a hundred years at tops; and although that was so long for these mere mortals; it was a blink of an eye for him. So as he moved to further inspect the filly from afar his branches creaked, and his roots curled in rigid distaste at having to move. He wasn't as nimble as he used to be.

What made things worse was that with the Rift continuing to slowly take over, there was fewer and fewer places for him to go in search of Sanctuary. It was only a matter of time before he would be devoured by the magical disease. And so this brought a question into the wizened flora's mind; did he wait for the inevitable? Or would he take matters into his own hands?

It was when he heard the moss scream did he cringe, before looking down and finding the girl utterly terrified. She was so young, had so much life ahead of her; and already she was terrified of so much. It was in that moment he knew what must be done (because he knew from the start why she had come here), and with slow yet deliberate movements; he finally made himself known to the little girl with the broken little body.
the Rift
» Presence of the Rift «


Valkyrie the Hopebringer
Currently championing: Caevoc
#3
The young Shieldmaiden had made similar blunders during early, inexperienced occasions spent roving through the Rainforest, and it was for this very reason that an amused smile ignited across her face. The ear-splitting screech which rose through the gentle, constant thrum of rain that day in the rainforest, was like no other - even the shrill squeal of infancy had not the power to disable one’s resolve quite so superbly - and curious to see who had triggered it, her clean, tan-tinted hooves began to trek softly in the direction from whence she assumed it came (she had little doubt it would be a man: stupidity personified).

Valkyrie was more than surprised to discover, however, as she slipped beneath the bent, leafy arm of a young sapling fern, that it was, in fact, a waif-looking child that had stepped on the moss. Without hesitation, she meandered forward with superior grandeur and offered the helpless runt a sympathetic smile. “It’s the moss…” she offered smoothly, gesturing her clean pink nose pointedly towards the olive-green carpeting various rocks nearby. “You have nothing to fear.” Of course, she could only assume the unfortunately ugly infant hadn’t realised her error  - she did after all look, awkwardly misshapen - and softened the lines on her face to appear compassionate.

It was more commiseration though (for the sake of her obvious worthlessness), and less so tender-hearted empathy.

Valkyrie made certain not to touch her…

Without warning the forest began to stir, to whisper and to sway, and one tree which seemed so much more monumental than the rest, stepped slowly forward from its bed. The Shieldmaiden was rightfully surprised. Though she had indeed seen a Living Tree before, it had been comparatively modest in structure and size, and there had been more important things to consider at that time… On this occasion, however, there were no pressing priorities and the only company happened to find seemed to be more a hindrance (perhaps had she been clean, maintained…), than a help. Wide eyes soon forgot their prior hangup and lifted to survey the inconceivable giant.

Eira
Currently championing: Reszo
#4
Eira...
Even as the other horse appeared, casually swanning forward from the tree line to explain the cause of the sound with a gesturing muzzle, Eira remained frozen on the spot, stricken until the great, resounding sound of the screech had well and truely ceased. It was all very well for one so ripe with confidence, portraying such a picture of overall wellbeing to strut fearlessly and tempt the dangers of this world, but the little blue orphan knew well her vulnerabilities, and it had not been her intention at all to draw attention to her position in such a blaring way.  

When at last the rigidness of fear had relinquished fierce hold on her piteous frame, sunken blue eyes sought the bright, flashy gaze of the other; they didn’t linger long there, however, instead honing in on the intricate silver-gold armour which perched upon the brow above, and the snowy-looking feathers which swayed beyond that. A winged skull seemed unusual, lovely to behold (they were perfectly straight, clean and well-formed), though quite unlike any pegasus she had before seen. A feeling of insecurity washed over her, spurred by the noticeably standoffish behaviour of the other, and the tiny, barbered wings by her sides tucked in closer.

A movement in the fringe of the vegetation pulled both pairs of eyes towards it, and a look of startled amazement overwhelmed her solemn expression. She stumbled backwards (even more careful of the rocks than before), slipping behind her sinewy company - who it seemed was less fazed. From cover, she peered upwards, observing the utterly enormous moving tree, with gaping, incredulous eyes. Could this be what the Rift had demanded that she find?

Lips touched lightly by the rash athwart her bod and she mused with growing despair, about how to go about dissecting the incredible, majestic creature. With out its organs, she feared permanent affliction; the cracks, irritation and itch, together with the excruciating pain through scorch, had been completely unbearable. Suddenly fearful, she stepped away from the stranger, willing those eyes to find the desperation in her own. “Please,” they begged, “help me!”
"I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden

@Rift Presence
Rift Presence
Currently championing:
#5

He had sensed the approach of the other girl, so graceful and confident in contrast to the blue babe. Yet he did not entirely expect her to discover her and actually approach her. He could sense the disdain, the air of superiority gleaming off of her, and the Tree was not impressed. So young and so ignorant; she would not last long in this treacherous land with such an attitude. As his branches continued to creak with his movements, he finally came to a halt before them, staring down with an aura of inquisitiveness radiating off his being. There was not face on him, no eyes to convey his emotion; but he could still express what he felt with simply just his presence.

So when the blue child looked to the overconfident one, he immediately sent a sense of warmth and tenderness out to her; to ease her concern and mental plea for assistance. There was no danger here, not with him present. Even though he was sick and dying; he still held an immense amount of intangible, raw power. But he was still not content with the pale one, who seemed to hold something in her that amounted to nothing good. She had a motive that he did not agree with, and because of his he decided that distance needed to be kept. Without warning a leafy branch reached out, and with the utmost tenderness he could muster he lifted her off the ground; before moving her quite a ways away from them.

To Eira's eye, he had made her entirely disappear, when in reality had the forest not been there they were still within seeing distance. When he had released his grasp on Valkyrie, he returned his expression back to the girl, and simply breathed his life into the trees around them. And in doing so there was a sense of peace, a sense of understanding and warmth that not only showered the wilting vegetation; but to the little girl. She needed to understand what he needed of her, and there was no way to do it except like this. When he felt secure that she did in fact know what must come next, he began to move his old body down to the ground.

The movements were slow and precise, a touch of carefulness that lead to his hulking form to finally lay horizontally on the wet earth. When he was finally settled, his branches reached out to her ever so tenderly. When they touched her face they were gentle, soft and delicate with their movements. As his energy began to shift he focused on continuing to give her that sense of ease. When she was ready; he would let go, and although his chapter would ultimately end; hers would finally begin.

the Rift
» Presence of the Rift «


Valkyrie the Hopebringer
Currently championing: Caevoc
#6
Much to Valkyrie’s surprise (and appal), the blue urchin child shied from the emerging tree-creature, taking shelter swiftly by her hocks, and no doubt straddling the lovely length of her kept, creamy-white tail. Wings aloft the perfectly shaped skull startled from their rest, flaring fine feathers in an ostentatious exhibition of her discomfort and the neck wielded their perch until it was propped vertically upon sloping withers. Slipping a neat, rose-gold hoof from the carpet of forest litter, she curled it around the dense cascade of tethered tendrils and pulled them with a jerk, clear. As long as the girl didn’t touch, there seemed little need to drive better space between them.

With her throat skewed around, sparkling blue eyes engaged the cowardly babe. “It’s a tree dear, there’s probably no brain inside it…” Though it didn’t occur to the foolish Sister at the moment, that that very advice could have been all the better reason to avoid its path altogether; that great, lumbering network of roots could easily swallow a comparatively insignificant horse.

The tree did have some level of intelligence it seemed suddenly (perhaps a smidge of compassion too), for as Valkyrie turned back to view it, one gnarled, wooden limb was descending straight towards her.

Naturally terrified, for the (few) pines of Sunnmōre only moved to the stroke of the wind, the pallid Shieldmaiden struggled and strained - sweeping the spear she carried across it’s grainy hands - as her proud, immaculate bodice was unceremoniously removed from its location before the ugly welp, and repositioned a fair distance away - near enough to still witness the peculiar situation unfolding, yet apparently at a distant distance, that better suited old-man-wood. Immediately she was concerned for her smaller, pitiful company, though she wasn’t near brazen enough to tempt those gouging fingers again to meet her flesh. So instead she watched where she’d been placed with baited interest, ears fixed forward, sinewy structure coiled and ready to leap forward (or backwards), should the need to protect arise.

Eira
Currently championing: Reszo
#7
Eira...
She stood there staring, crouched as low across charcoaled knees and hocks askew, witnessing the otherwise inconceivable scene unfold while desperately hoping she wouldn’t be next. There was, however, a gentle grace with his slow, measured movements, mercifulness that she was yet to experience of the Rift - his domain - and though she couldn’t explain it, Eira felt soothed and settle in his (intimidating) presence.

The stranger - paler, prettier in every respect, female - was removed from their company, quite blatantly, by the tree-folk’s long, kindling fingers; and though the orphan’s nerves flinched, rampant beneath the wooly canvasing of coat, there was quiet marvel in her dark blue eyes as they noted the natural grain and leafy texture of his being. The Living Tree was among the finest of nature’s miracles, that she had ever seen; a blessed feeling warmed her through and the constant chill which gnawed voraciously at her bones, seemed to ease.

Rain channeled down the ancient, shadowy lines of his long, textured torso, pooling in various hollows and skirting around knots; though she searched earnestly for sign of a face, the wilting, glossy foliage which shrouded each limb, seemed to obscure his higher half. Eira let her gaze descend, and she realised (for the young horse was in tune with the natural world and an intuitive character), that the old creature seemed tired - standing before her with less visor than the forest of old giants surrounding.

“How old are you?” she wondered in silence, filled suddenly with the heavy weight of sadness. Even as his creaking, groaning figure began to sway lower and fail towards its final rest, the sickly yearling had some deeply rooted understanding of the universe and the cycles of their comparatively insignificant lives within it. “Is this your time?”

The fear which had been, was gone. It felt, in that moment, like Eira the Living Tree were all that existed.

Fine, twiggy fingers, still gentler than she could’ve ever, possibly imagined, glided forth before a long, dying bough - his arm - and the child’s benevolent gaze embraced it with a quiet sense of grief  pooling within. One black, cloven hoof scuffed forward through the rotting litter, and the rest followed with respectful measure, until she was extending a sorrowful kiss towards the denser wood at his crown. 

“Thank you…”
"I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden
Rift Presence
Currently championing:
#8

Older than you can imagine, he rumbled into her mind, intensely focused on her staring at him. She was a curious thing, and although she was mute he could understand her quite easily. She had so much life in her, such vitality that would carry on throughout her years; he could feel it. Her frail body would never reveal the true gem she was inside. So as his branches ruffled through her mane so kindly, it was her next question that caused a wave of relief to wash over his broken body.

She now knew, and it was like a weight was lifting off of him. She would do what needed to be done with his remains once he passed on; would take them somewhere safe where the Rift could not touch it. He would be a rare artifact even in death, and he needed to make sure his legacy was cherished. He let her move closer to him, embracing the sound of fallen leaves crackling next to him. Despite the rain the birds still sang for him, and he relished in each sound that surrounded him. These were the last things he wanted to hear, to let himself go and fall away to return to the earth in which he was birthed with the sounds of nature calling to him.

Just has he let a final breath escape his leaves, in his final moments he heard her thank you. It was a gentle song, lacing in his soul and causing him to thrum. As his branches fell limp and his leaves began to wither, the wind and rain began to rapidly pick up, to thrash the surrounding trees and causing a howl to rise above the chaos. It continued full force until it at once ceased, bursting away from the trio like a shockwave.

In its wake the leaves began to settle, the rain had ceased and a rare glimmer of sunshine shone down upon the deceased Tree and the little filly. The glow of the Tree's internal organs had began to fade, no longer pulsing; but still slightly shimmering in the sunshine. Even in death, the beautiful creature had left his branch curled delicately in her mane; and when it finally fell away a green leaf marking glowed delicately behind her right ear.

the Rift

The Living Tree's magic left behind a glowing green leaf behind Eira's right ear. If you'd like to keep it just post in Account Updates or it will fade away once the Tree's magic wears off!
» Presence of the Rift «


Eira
Currently championing: Reszo
#9
Eira...
There was a turbulent response to the fading life force the old Living Tree. The lush emerald leaves of the forest trees surrounding, began to lash and snap violently in the sudden rouse of wind. The rain too intensified, swirling through the standing crowd of nearby trunks and limber undergrowth, beating against the pair who were sunken upon the cold, aromatic, soil floor.

The energy and the rise of howling noise were frightening and the small filly drew nearer to the kind tree and the gnarled finger-like branches that had curled throughout her thin, wispy, silver mane. The weather, however, ceased as suddenly then as it had stirred to life and after what felt a lot to Eira to be the climax of the freak storm, the rain paused and the wind eased, giving way to a shaft of glorious sunlight - the likes of which hadn’t been seen for a good many months already.

It fell upon the rich, earthen timber as she nestled beside it, igniting the soft tones of the water-stained browns into a wildfire of auburn and honey. Rising and stumbling slowly backwards, the thoughtful child beheld the lifeless creature with a sombre, humbled eye. A gentle hum caressed her weak windpipe in his honour and she found herself after a small time spent simply standing by, drawn to the glimmering organs laid beneath his bark - a heart towards the centre, a brain beneath the thick wood at his crown.

It was a task undertaken beneath a tide of many tears.

Often she paused with lashes clenched tightly together, unable to push away the waves of wrenching memories, of the death and destruction which had taken place amid a different sort of storm. How desperately she missed her mother and her father, and vagabond thoughts detailed a harrowing selection of scenarios which might by now have befallen beloved Indra. Death was a phenomenon that brought with it great torment, and though she worked tirelessly while the sun’s breath faded once more into sheets of drizzle, then rain, above, Eira sobbed.

She did not notice that the rash rotting her flesh had begun curiously to shrink. With each of the old tree’ s organs removed, the festering swamp of bloody, burning pus retreated - in its wake, was left the softest remark of blue-grey skin and a delicate, fine layer of downy fur regrowing upon it.

When nearly two hours had passed, and the dim hue of twilight had drawn even longer the shadows around her, the soggy, starving filly gathered with a good amount of tenderness and care against her breast, the organs she had harvested. Pressing them to her matted coat there, with the gentle support of her nose, Eira began the journey to the weeping veil of the cherry tree's arms, that had given her and Vynter shelter when Drench had first arrived.

Quietly she slipped below the pretty, spray of leaves, towards the silvery-veined trunk which stood marvellously hidden at the centre and after lowering her gift to the moist soil, she started ceremoniously to collect atop it pretty leaves and whatever flowers still bloomed in these, rain-hampered days. So too did she find the old shell of the passed caterpillar once rescued from the river rapids in the forest, and laid it (upon its tarnished leaf), with the rest. While the light remained enough to see, she began to dig a grave between the Glow-Cherry’s buttress-roots and when at last night fell across the scene, she had given thanks again to the Living Tree and fallen into deep sleep alongside.  
"I am a book of snow,
a spacious hand, an open meadow,
a circle that waits,
I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden

Thank you <3
Valkyrie the Hopebringer
Currently championing: Caevoc
#10
VALKYRIE
She stood in the storm


What began as pure fear, progressed slowly and steadily into a much less humble state of disbelief.

The tree collapsed to the earth with unforeseeable grace and technique, so near to the small urchin-child, that Valkyrie assumed she were about to be (gently?) squashed; snuffed, probably for the better, from worthless existence that appeared more a curse, than anything finer. But the child lived on, with the strange creature’s twigs intertwined through her fine hair and the Shieldmaiden’s incredulous eyes narrowed beyond pity. In a tender moment in which the ragged youth looked to be at one with nature - how quaint - the weather took on a mind of its own, and harassed the surrounding forest with formidable furore.

Put off by the lashing wind and biting rain, Valkyrie sought shelter in a dense grove overlooking the thin glade.

Still, she felt some obligation to watch over the sickly filly (be present should something worth her while unfold in the meantime), and lingered while the smaller began to labour over the finally dead tree’s innards; whatever reason compelled the young savage to dissect it was well and truly beyond her capacity to understand. At last the Daughter grew tired, bored, and turned to leave the child to her crude game. The moment’s respite in the weather was over and as the rain began once more to pour, Valkyrie made an exit through the trees.

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



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