Hello There, Guest!
- Register

Beautifully drawn by Sid (Erasvita@DA)!
Current Novus date and time is

▶ Year || 503
▶ Season || Summer
▶ Temp || 74℉ (23℃) - 100℉ (37℃)
▶ Weather || The end of Spring brings about, once more, the warm embrace of Summer. While some flourish in the comfortable glow of the sun, others take shelter from its sweltering midday heat. Even so, it is now that the continent bustles with life - for it won't be long until a cool chill returns.


Character of the Season
El Toro

Member of the Season

Thread of the Season
Bring Me Thunder; Bring Me Steel

Pair of the Season
Eik and Isra

Quote of the Season
"Her mother lives all in day, her father all in night, and Apolonia straddles the thin, dusky line halving her heart with not so much grace - startling awake in the middle of the night or at the crack of dawn, trying to find some way to compromise." — Apolonia in
The Vine & The Rain & The Light

see here for nominations


Inactive Character

The Character


▶ Age: 7 [Year 495 Fall]
▶ Gender:
▶ Pronouns: Female [She/Her/Hers]
▶ Orientation: Lesbian
▶ Breed: Trakehner x Friesian
▶ Height: 8 hh
▶ Health: 10
▶ Attack: 10
▶ Experience: 13
▶ Signos: 0 (Donate)

▶ Joined: 10-12-2017
▶ Last Visit: 12-20-2018, 01:16 AM
▶ Total Posts: 4 (Find All Posts)
▶ Total Threads: 2 (Find All Threads)

Send Message

Braved the forest, braved the stone
Braved the icy winds and fire
Braved and beat them on my own
Yet I'm helpless by the river

Breed: Trakehner x Friesian
Race: Unicorn
Height: 16.3 hh
Horns: Kudu
-- brown
Eyes: Heterochromia
-- right: frozen silver
-- left: molten gold
Mane/Tail: Long and curly
-- ebony with silver frosting
-- untamed, always messy
Body: Black with silver hues
-- white brindles along back, shoulders, and underbelly
-- silver, arched marking along right cheek

To put it bluntly, Rhiannon is exquisite She is broad and supple, soft in all of the right places and firm in the others, standing tall despite her sex. With a mixed heritage between a Trakehner and a Friesian, she obtained both athleticism and build, and knows how to use both of those attributes to her advantage. Her coloration is a sleek ebony, rich and bottomless and dark, marred only by the vivid white brindles spreading from broad withers to muscled croup.

She is beautiful and curvaceous, with a feminine, pleasing face and a strong, handsome jaw, elegant and fierce and deceptive, for Rhiannon is no damsel in distress, no powerless maiden. Her graceful looks are simply another tool in her box, another weapon at her disposal. Piercing, dual-toned eyes of frozen silver and hot molten gold peer out, judgemental and loathing, from a furling, messy cascade of long ebony tresses frosted in silver. The brindled-devil's hair is always windswept and in disarray. Along her right cheek and across her right eye is a twisting, triangle-esque pointed marking, curling into fine points upon her cheek bone.

The horns upon her brow are crude, twisting protrusions that resemble those of a kudu, a deep brown in color. They are hard as bone, their tips sharpened at all times, for Rhiannon never knows when she must strike for the kill.

Within her mane, fastened in ever changing locations amidst her crest, Rhiannon wears a set of silver knitting needles with crude, ancient etchings carved into the sides. Upon each needle is an inlaid stone; one a bloody ruby, and the other a vast sapphire. Just as well, old feathers are tied amidst her hair, trophies collected from other the years of the pegasi she had encountered. Some survived. Other did not.

Angel, angel, what have I done
I've faced the quakes, the wind, the fire
I've conquered country, crown, and throne
Why can't I cross this river?

Due to her upbringing, it is hard to look past what is on the surface to see who Rhiannon truly is. She is not a happy individual, nor is she particularly sweet or gentle. She does not laugh easy, nor does she enjoy engaging in petty, meaningless conversation.

Rhiannon is, first and foremost, a driven creature. She is spurred by the desire to succeed, the need to overcome, and the instinct to dominate. These things run in her blood, cultivated and formulated since her youth, determination and confidence rippling upon every swell of muscle and pulse of a heartbeat.

She is fearless and courageous when given the chance, and loyal to only those who have earned it. Rhiannon does not trust easily, nor does she give her loyalties freely, so to know that you have won her loyalty is a grand honor indeed. Just as well, she is independent, rarely seeking out the company of others nor caring much for their opinion, preferring to remain in the background and observe rather than act impulsively.

On the off chance that you win her heart, however, Rhiannon is a devoted, passionate, and protective lover. She adores her 'chosen ones', and while it may be easy to coerce her into indulging in a few sexual exploits, captivating and earning her heart is an entirely different matter. Impossible, nearly. Rhiannon is no stranger to heartbreak, and as such, is hesitant to allow herself to love again.

Just for all these things that she is, however, there are far more that she is not.

Rhiannon hates wholly and completely. Born in a herd full of unicorn supremacists, she is incredibly racist to those who do not have horns on their head. She sees pegasus and winged creatures as mutated, diseased blights in the world who are in need of extermination. Normal equines, without horns or wings, are mundane and boring, weak and useless. Just as she is racist, Rhiannon is extremely sexist, finding mares to be the superior sex. The only use of a stallion, in her eyes, us for procreation. They are hardly worth her time.

She is manipulative, cruel, and materialistic, quick to hoarde the feathers of a slain pegasus or be captivated by shiny gemstones. Generally cold and detached, Rhiannon avoids making friends, uncaring if her brash attitude hurts the feelings of others.

Arrogance wraps around her like a mantle, a sense of superiority over others following her wherever she goes. She is dishonest and dispassionate, caring little when it comes to matters that does not directly involve or affect her. Self-centered, quarrelsome, and sarcastic are just a few other intricacies that resolve Rhiannon's complex personality.

Positive Traits:
- Driven
- Determined
- Courageous
- Loyal
- Observant
- Fearless
- Independent
- Gregarious
- Confident

Negative Traits:
- Racist
- Sexist
- Manipulative
- Cold and Detached
- Dispassionate
- Cruel
- Dishonest
- Arrogant
- Quarrelsome
- Self-centered
- Sarcastic
- Vulgar
- Materialistic

Pay no mind the battles you've won
I'll take a lot more than rage and muscle
Open your heart and hands my son
Or you'll never make it over the river


The night that Rhiannon came into the world served as a reflection to the individual that she would eventually become.

Rhiannon was born on a crisp, icy night in Orangemoon. It was far too late in the season for birthing, but luck would never be on the she-devil's side. That was a fact that would never die. Born beneath the aurora borealis to Elizabeth, a Corporal, and Crowley, the Weaver of textiles and goods, the brindled youth gasped her first breath in the icy plains of the Aurora Basin, the northern most land of Helovia. It was a ruthless landscape, frozen tundras and biting winds just as bitter as the inhabitants who called the Basin 'home', and those weak in mind and body would not survive it.

Due to the conditions of her birth, the harsh cold and late season, Rhiannon was born plagued with weakness in her limbs and a harsh, persistent cough. Her parents, however, would nurture and protect her, allowing her to grow strong despite her handicaps. Their little family holed up in the Weaver's cave, an warm structure carved into the side of one of the many mountains that surrounded the Aurora Basin, secluding the land from the rest of the world.

During her youth, Rhiannon was inquisitve, but shy around those that she did not know. Due to the nature of her parentage, both of whom were apart of a reclusive group named 'the Plague', she learned very early on that unicorns were the supreme, pure race. Those without horns or who had wings upon their shoulders, bland equines and harpy pegasi, were cretin, useless, and unsightly, a mar against their birthright as the supreme race.

There are many members of the herd that Rhiannon met in her youth, but few names held much importance here, and would quickly be forgotten. Druid, Zdravilo, Crash Course, Arah... They came and went, like the seasons themselves. Life carried on, and shortly after her first year, the cough that plagued the brindled filly finally vanished. With that delight, however, came inevitable tradgedy. The first of many, perhaps, in Rhiannon's life.

Elizabeth was sick. Dying. Whatever ailed her, their doctor's could not fix. The Friesian Corporal lay prone and decrepit in the snow one cold, frozen night. Rhiannon stayed by her mother's side, nimble legs tucked close, as her father loomed overhead. Elizabeth passed beneath the shimmering northern lights, and for the first time in her life, Rhiannon knew grief.

After Elizabeth's passing, the brindled filly grew aloof and distant. It didn't take long for Crowley to abandon her as well, leaving the Aurora Basin behind in favor of seeking out cruel magic, greedy and selfish in his search for more power. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism from Elizabeth's death. Perhaps it was simply due to the darkness that lingered in the Weaver own heart. Whatever pulled Crowley from the Aurora Basin, Rhiannon would never know, but it left her utterly alone.

Forced to pick up the pieces of her shattered family, Rhiannon remained behind in the Basin, loyal to her last breath, calling the Weaver's former cave her home despite the fact that it was now so very empty and cold. She encountered the kind and patient mare Arah once more, who more or less took her in, becoming the 'mother figure' that the filly so desperately needed.

Arah was nothing like Crowley or Elizabeth. She was kind, patient, and open-minded, lacking the same burning hatred for the other races of Helovia. Rhiannon quickly grew to adore the pale horned mare, loving her like a child would a mother, and her kindness did wonders for the brindled youth's shattered, warped spirit. She grew brave. She developed a quick wit. She laughed and smiled and played with the other youth of her home, but not even the light of Arah's love could chase away the darkness simmering beneath the surface.

It was the coming wraiths that would spiral Rhiannon into her mad descent.

They came under the cover of darkness, the cursed wraiths of Helovia and their spreading sickness. Once infected with that darkness, that damnable substance of corruption, the individual would turn, becoming a monster incredibly unrecognizable. Nowhere was safe. For the first time in her life, Rhiannon was driven from the Aurora Basin when the wraith's attacked, seeking shelter in a complex network of underground caves. The caves were protected by the magic of the Gods, a haven, a sanctuary where the darkness and taint could not reach. Having lost Arah in the mad dash for safety and surrounded by strangers, Rhiannon resigned herself to wait for someone who she might know... And wait she did, but no one ever came.

The brindled youth remained in the underground caves for longer than was far necessary. It was during her time down below, lost in the twisting labrynth, that the voices began. Dark voices, demons whispering in her ear, promising her salvation if she would only do their bidding, promising to never leave her alone like her family had done. Lost to the voices, lost in her madness, Rhiannon remained underground for months, living on cave water and lichen, even as the other inhabitants of Helovia returned to the surface after the scourge of the wraiths were long contained.

Adolescence and Adulthood

By the time that Rhiannon's hooves found the outside world again, now just months shy of two years old, she was a shadow of her former self. Bitter, angry, loathing anyone and everything, she was a stranger, no better than the mindless wraiths that had chased her into hiding in the first place. Despite her transgressions, despite her uncouth rage and bloodlust, Rhiannon returned to the only place she knew; the Basin. There, she threw herself into serving her Royals as a soldier, fighting, sparring, training to hone her body and mind, fueled by the demons of her mind and the anger in her heart. No one was off-limits; every individual she met was an adversary, a challenge, a conquest. It was shortly after becoming a soldier of the Aurora Basin that Rhiannon developed a carnal, somewhat cruel desire for mares instead of stallions.

After a terrible loss to a winged, hybrid mare, Rhiannon met with Deimos the Reaper, the King of the Aurora Basin. The Reaper offered her a kinship of understanding, a purpose to vent her rage, a place of belonging for those with their like minds. The Plague. The Plague was an organization of like-minded individuals who truly believed that unicorns were the superior race, and that any other were blights to the world in need of extermination. Eager to prove her worth and surround herself with those who shared the same beliefs, Rhiannon joined them and their cause, finding in the Plague structure and a purpose that she had sorely been lacking.

Summer passes into fall, and soon, Rhiannon crests her second birthday. One fateful night while bathing in the hotsprings of the Basin, she encounters Hotaru, a talented young spy of great beauty and sharp wit. Immediately Rhiannon is smitten, captivated with the coral wonder, and the two develop an intimate, flirtatious relationship. Winter comes to Helovia, and the need of textiles to provide warmth for the herd grows. Deimos reaches out, inquiring if Rhiannon will follow in the steps of her father and serve the Basin not as a soldier, but as their Weaver. She agrees.

The seasons change once more. Rhiannon and Hotaru continue to meet, and by now, the brindled mare has fallen completely for the beautiful spy. In Hotaru's company, the demons are silent. There are no voices in her head, no random bouts of intense, uncontrollable anger, just peace. Wondrous, beautiful peace, but like all things, it does not last.

While venturing to the lands outside of the Basin, Rhiannon crosses paths with Crowley for the first time in nearly two years. The stallion is lost in divine madness, plagued with paranoia, hallucinations, and fear due to a curse from the Moon Goddess herself, failing to recognize his own daughter. Despite her pleas to try and cut through his insanity, Crowley reacts negatively, attacking his daughter and crippling her in the process due to his magic to curse other living beings. Crippled and lame, Rhiannon flees, not wanting to try and fight the father that she still loves despite his abandonment.

By the time Rhiannon returns to the Aurora Basin, it is to witness the love of her life, Hotaru, being taken prisoner by the Dragon's Throat, the desert herd of Helovia. Crippled, she is powerless to do anything other than watch. Shortly after, the voices return, now that Hotaru is not there to soothe and chase them away, and the following years become a blur that Rhiannon will struggle to later remember.

For months she wanders, leaving the Basin, and ultimately Helovia, behind. Those are dark times; using charm and poise to satisfy her carnal desires, picking fights and challenging others to satisfy her anger, all the while hating everyone and everything that she could. For years she is gone from Helovia, from home soil, but inevitably, as always, she returned, traveling north and into the Basin once again. By then, so much has changed.

The land has become more open, accepting any into their herd instead of solely those with horns upon their heads. To her surprise, Hotaru serves the Aurora Basin as Queen, but no longer is there a passionate flame between them. No, now, Hotaru is mated to the stallion Thranduil, and Rhiannon avoids the two of them entirely, greedily serving only herself upon her return. Perhaps even a larger surprise, however, was Crowley's temporary return to the Aurora Basin, only there long enough to have sired two foals with the kindred mare of Rhiannon's youth, Arah. The twins, Asch and Arwen, become beacons of delight in the brindled mare's life. Even though she is of an unsound, cracked mind, Rhiannon remains, dedicating her time and effort into teaching the twins all that they would need to know of the world.

Inevitably, however, it all comes crashing down.

The twins are killed in a fit of madness by Crowley himself. Arah disappears, leaving the Aurora Basin behind in favor of finding homage somewhere else. Once again, Rhiannon is left alone. She is furious, but that rage bleeds into fatigue. Listless, tired, and daunted, she withdraws into herself, wandering the Basin like a ghost, and that is how she lived through Helovia's destruction.

When Kaos opened the Portal that would supposedly lead into the Rift, Rhiannon passed through without a second thought. The world was damned anyway, and she didn't give a shit about anyone would would be lost in the process.

Coming to, she finds herself in a new land, one that couldn't possibly be the Rift. She finds herself in the land of Novus.

Active & Parvus Magic

Passive Magic


Armor, Outfit, and Accessories

Set of silver knitting needles, multiple feathers tied in mane.

Agora Items & Awards

This user has no items.
(View All Items)


The Player

▶ Player Name: Sparrow (Profile)
▶ PM Player: Send Message
▶ Email: Send Email
▶ Other Accounts: Sparrow, Ard, Erd, Israfel, Roshan, Runaveig, Somnus,
Nothing's changed. Still just that friendly neighborhood Sprowtato.