The lands of Arma would regrow, over time, but it didn't erase the fresh memory in her mind. The flash of fire, the scent of burning wood and flesh, the crunch of ashes underfoot that came from the trees and the animals that had simply existed, and had died for it. Denocte was without a regime now, but they were not lost. Oddly enough, they were together even more than they had been when the regime had stood at the head. They were supposed to guide them, not isolate them, hide them away, tear families apart, threaten their own people with a dragon that loomed over the pass, ready to attack anyone leaving.
The thoughts made her uneasy still. She recalled attempting to get past the gates, to no avail. Seeing the dragon looming in the distance.
Araxes also recalled calling out the regime, attempting to get their attention more than once. As council, she thought her voice would be heard, but it had not. No. They had retreated instead to their comfort, as if they had done nothing wrong, and ignored the cries of their people.
Bitterness coated her tongue at the thought, and she frowned, unable to push it all away. She would not stand for it, for this. They were gone now, but their betrayal, the attack on their own people, would be something to be remembered. Something to grow from, as well. Denocte deserved better and she would fight for those she called her people, tooth and nail, if she had to.
The ear-winged woman took in a breath, releasing it as she stood in the depths of the now empty court, finding it.. oddly peaceful, but lonesome all the same. They needed a regime, and she had no doubt they would soon.
The click clack of hooves caused the speckled mare to turn curiously, her mane bunched on her neck in a massive bun, held out of the way of dragging on the floor. "Hello," she spoke, flicking ears forward curiously.
The world was... strange. A bit chilly and nippy, full of faces that were fuzzy and a darkness that cloaked him at night like no other.
The foal stood on wobbling legs by the one that had given birth to him, his tiny head ducking to press against a scaled neck. Rigel wasn't doing too well, and the foal knew that, making soft nickers under his breath before tucking up to the pale body, curling up against a stomach after folding legs under himself. Nearby, a tall man lingered, dark grays and whites, horned with worry on his face. He had been pacing to and fro for a while, and now he stood clueless as to what to do.
The foal simply blinked at him, violet eyes stunning before he turned his head and tucked it against his birthgiver. The room was dim, it was hard to see, but the scent of the other soothed him, and he tucked his head in a little more, closing his eyes as he attempted to gain some sort of comfort. A bump on his shoulder told him that the heavy breathing Rigel was touching him, a soothing soft bump of a muzzle to his body.
@any || soooo rigel isn't doing too well and orion is an idiot. pyxis is just confused and lost.
The first light of daybreak kissed the rolling fields that she traversed with purposeful, yet delicate steps. Her head was hung low, neck leveled with her nimble shoulders as she sauntered through the dew dappled grass. Felwood stopped in her tracks at the sight of a small band of deer up ahead, her ears swiveling left and right to keep an assessment on her surroundings while she observed from afar. They shared eye contact for a quiet moment, almost setting an understanding of the space between them. They continued to graze and so Felwood followed. She took in mouthfuls of the sweet, plush grass, but no more than that. A weathered satchel hung around her shoulders, craning her neck over so the mare could shovel her nose into the bag. There was naught but a handful of berries she picked before she found these fields; the perfect finishing touch on a refreshing breakfast.
'She needs to be red Mr.[XXXXXX], and a little brown. My wife wants a sort of -- playful, colour. Something that inspires a little creativity for her - the appaloosa skin was just .. well eh, dull.' The client just sighed helplessly and handed the artifact over to Albrecht who was awaiting payment. On that note, Albrecht had nothing to say about the delivery of his past item, just that he wanted what was projected to him when the final numbers were agreed upon.
A plain black sack was exchanged between the two, from the looks of it something heavy must have been on board Albrecht's back between two prepped and ready wings. His client's eyes wandered for too long on Albrecht to be anything else but fro personal interest. The tall dark horse didn't bother to notice, he found the shorter creature to be completely revolting. His wife too, she was a beast when he learned that all she wanted the girls for was their skins. What a waste. Such shame. But neither his client or the wife felt the same way.
'What is your wife's favorite colour, Luther?' Albrecht asked casually while checking all his belts and buckles to make sure everything was secure for flight. The shorter, fat morgan's ears perked up, Albrecht could see in the other's eyes he was so happy to be called by name he nearly wet himself.
'B-b-blue, she likes blue. W-why?' Luther stammered out pathetically, by now the Sand Horse was already turning his back to him, wings out for flight. Something, something-else about how he liked the way Albrecht's tail looked, that the braid was nice or whatever .. he stopped listening when Luther mentioned blue.
'I'll bring her back a sapphire, then. For double.' One gold-clad ear tipped back towards his client before his handsome face glanced back at him over the fur-feathered ruff of his massive shoulder. The dumpy little brown horse shook his head eagerly at him. 'Double it is,' he said, agreeing to the terms.
'Blue it is', then Albrecht launched himself into the night quickly, quietly, and without much effort. The massive span of his wings filled a entire horizon. They slashed clouds in half and nearly cut the moon right out of the sky. What gold that glittered upon his figure was then gone.
***
Arma was coldest at the edges of night before dawn warned at the dark. The matting of feathers over his shoulders were spiked with frost from maintaining such high altitude for so long. Ice gathered in drips and hangs off of him, plastered his wild black curls against his steaming black snake's skin. Hours and hours of travel had left him chilled to the core and he thought only to drop down into the Pass to catch the first moments of sunrise to absorb heat and to shake the early winter from his body.
Certainly no one was awake at this hour - not in the pass. Denoctians were usually going to sleep at this hour, not waking up (or so he thought). The goliath touched down with practiced ease, the hoof with the only golden stripe was the last to come down before he looked up and saw someone not too far ahead of him. His client's order was in the back of his mind, he was not thinking of it when he saw her there. All he was thinking was how strange it might be for her to see someone drop in unannounced like this.
Then again, he had made previous arrangments to meet up with his Vendor in Denocte at this time.
Was this them?
The frosted stranger lifted his head up and focused two brilliant golden eyes on her, he wasn't sure if this was the connection he was supposed to be meeting with at this time. She seemed to be preoccupied with a task of her own, bone-picking and ash-eating, not exactly waiting for some holy roller to show up with a bag of expensive statuary. The man's lip twitched, what if it was? Not exactly who he would have chose if it was, she seemed a little soggy to him. Albrecht only waited a few seconds to ask what he wanted, no introductions made and no inclination to do so either.
"I suppose you haven't seen anyone else waiting around here, have you?"
In Mors, it does not matter how loud you scream, nobody will be around to hear you.
If you are taken in the night with no one around to see, you will be lost forever.
For Albrecht, this was ideal, he did not want anybody to know what he knew. He did not want anybody to do what he did either. Collecting bodies for his cartel was risky enough business as it was. The money in it was too good, he'd kill his competition if he knew it was out there. Business was slow being a one man show - he didn't have eyes everywhere because he didn't want to put line the pockets of cheap crooks who'd crack easily under pressure. Or be greedy. Albrecht paid well if the job was done right, if it wasn't, well --
.. his last business partner found out the hard way when he tried to make a little money for himself on the side.
One scout was all he needed, stationed high in the disguised lookouts which one could spy both the popular and less-traveled passages to either get to Sand City (or around it, even). He had chosen very carefully this time, someone seasoned with the work but new to the area. Someone with little or no moral, too. Someone who was virtually nameless to society. Someone who might actually even enjoy the work. Scouting lost souls in the sand required keen eyes, nose, ears, and taste - it took a psycho to determine what kind of horse was host to the wind that would blow the scout's way.
It took a sick, sick man to know just what kind of a victim he'd have by tasting the air he breathed in around him. And Albrecht had been doing it alone for too long.
Most travelers made it successfully through the desert never knowing the type of dangers that might await them in the dark. Most of them would never know how they were being sized up against Albrecht's supply list. His clients were picky about their requests and Albrecht always strived to deliver the perfect package to them. Finding bodies was one thing, preparing them for the market was another. He wasn't sure which part he enjoyed more, the hunting or the conditioning. Maybe it was both?
Tonight he and one other set out to travel deep into no-man's land, some of the harshest terrain in Mors where there wasn't food or water for miles. They did not speak to one another in any sort of casual way - most likely this cloaked figure beside Albrecht was primarily interested in the payout for delivery of whatever the dark horse wanted. Mors opened up to a vast spans of rolling blue land (it was the dead of night, not a grain of sand stirred for miles and miles outward) -- and they were not alone. But Albrecht already knew that, for he had spotted this fool out in the sand hours ago and was simply waiting for nightfall. This one matched the criteria.
Albrecht paused in the sand, his breath besilvering the intimate space between he and the narrow black maw which listened intently.
"You are certain that this was an appaloosa, grey and white, black and white hair," it wasn't a question it was more a confirmation that his hired hand was competent with the orders he had been given.
No facial markings, snowflake pattern, clean legs. I spotted her two days ago in the canyon, doesn't look like anyone knows her - just another Jane Doe. The contract replied. Albrecht purred with delight, his molten gold eyes tracing over the list as they checked it one more time.
"Take the dust, dose her quickly. We'll drag her out once she's down. There is a lot of money in this so be careful. My client will not pay for damaged goods." Albrecht then checked the rolled up tarp he had strapped onto his shoulders, they would have to haul their quarry back to the Compound like a pair of farm horses pulling a till. Things like this were the only times that Albrecht had any burning urge to work - when the payout was too good to be true.
The two conspiring snakes in the sand parted, then. Albrecht left and the contract right. The tall black creature hoisted himself into the air on two impressively large and silent wings. The jingle of his jewelry around his neck grew faint as he took to the air and disappeared up into the clouds rolling in for the night.
ALBRECHT
this is what you came for. this is what you get
@Lauren Creative freedom on how to respond/who to respond with P.S. I just want your attention
When I run fast enough, I can remember exactly what it felt like to fly.
But- and this is... embarrassing, for some reason I can't quite explain- in some ways running feels better than flying. At least running like this does; running fast as the wind, sweat foaming at my sides, heart pounding against my chest as if it wants to escape... or maybe it just has something to say? It feels like if I could just go a little faster, a little longer, I might be able to hear it speak.
In this way, running like this, I learn to communicate with earth the way I once did with wind and water. Or at least listen to her. She is quieter than her sisters, more subtle. You must listen to the way she presses into the bottom of each hoof, followed by the pressure that rises up each leg and into the body. I have not yet learned to speak to her in a way she can hear, but I'm working on it. For now I try to listen, and hope that understanding will follow.
I run as fast as I can along the creek at the northern edge of Terrastella, feeling the earth strong and generous beneath me even when it turns to swampland, thick with mud. Eventually the creek feeds into the sea and I come sliding to a halt, spraying a wave of sand before me in a way I find mildly entertaining. My sides are heaving like bellows, igniting the fire in my chest in a way that can only be described as thrilling. I don't think I've ever felt this way before in my long life. Maybe when you're mortal, the constant presence of death, patiently waiting, flavors each and every experience. Or maybe I have felt this once before but I just forgot about it... after so many lives you tend to lose track of yourself.
As my breathing slows, I become aware of the cool ocean breeze wrapping eagerly around my too-hot body and the cushion of sand beneath me. I take a deep breath of salty air and for a moment my troubles seem far away, lost somewhere among the beating of my heart in my ears. Earth, wind, and water- my world feels more stable when I let myself be embraced by all three.
-
ooc: sorry odd, still figuring out this guy and his moods. duskies preferred, but open to anyone <3 He's at the NW corner of the swamp, where amare creek meets the sea.
Fight Type: Battle! Prize: Experiance, mainly, maybe some respect if Theo does well Contact Made: yes!
Character #1: @Theodosia Bonded: nope Magic: nope Armor: nope Weapons: nope Current Health: 10 Current Attack: 10 Current Experience: 10
Character #2: @Marisol Bonded: nope Magic: nope Armor: she's got a leg cuff but i think that's actually an accessory Weapons: nope Current Health: 10 Current Attack: 10 Current Experience: 13
HE MOTIONED ME TO THE SKY,
She feels… settled, after her detour to Veneror Peak, even if she had received no actual reply to her prayers. She hadn’t really expected to receive one, after all; Gods were busy creatures with little time for mortals (or their half-mortal daughters). Even so, she comes away from the Peak with a clear head and bright eyes, ready and eager to begin her training upon the Steppes. How could she not be excited? This was what she had been training for, even if she hadn’t known it at the time -- this was her purpose, now.
She inhales the soft, sweet scent of the nearby mountain flowers as she awaits the Commander’s arrival, her eagerness having perhaps lent itself to an arrival slightly earlier than the stated noon. She takes it as time to survey the open field that appears to be the designated battling area, testing the loose dirt beneath her hooves and eying the open space above the field that she’s sure their battle will migrate to eventually. A soft breeze tugs at her hair, and she turns her face up to the sun as she basks in the warm autumn rays, knowing that they’ll soon be replaced by winter’s cruel chill.
While her pose may be relaxed, she is not -- one ear is perpetually cocked forward, listening for the approach of her Commander, and there is a tenseness to her muscles that reveals a quiet state of alertness.
It wouldn’t do to be caught unaware on her first day of training, after all.
I HEARD HEAVEN & THE THUNDER CRY.
Summary: Theodosia is awaiting Marisol's arrival for their agreed upon spar, slightly earlier than noon as she doesn't want to be late. She's enjoying the autumn sun, but still alert and listening for Marisol's arrival.
The day is unnaturally warm despite the autumn season that has encompassed all of Novus. The air of the Tinea Swamp is muggy and damp, high and strong with humidity. A slight, warm breeze dances through the trees, yet it brings no reprieve from the unrelenting moisture in the air or the heat from the sun. Insects of all kinds buzz about stagnant swamp water and drooping stalks of vegetation, roaming their natural habitat in annoying droves. Due to the heat of the day, the soiled smell of peat moss and decay carry easily on the breeze, a smell akin to rotten eggs billowing through the atmosphere.
All in all, it makes for a miserable day to explore through the swamp. The sun has reached its zenith in the sky, hanging proudly and bearing down an unnatural heat upon the land. All is as it should be…
… Or is it?
A task had been given from a primitive of the land. A mission. A sojourn. The land is as ancient as it is wise, haunted by the spirits of condemned souls and forgotten shamans. Some know the legends. Others do not… Yet, should she accept the task given to her by the Ilati Elder, Jaxis will find herself wandering the swamp in search of the truth. The terrain will prove a challenge. All good things, after all, do not come easy. The soggy ground will give out beneath her large hooves, the peat moss and rotten soil clinging to her legs. Dragonflies will dance about her ears the deeper she ventures into the moisture-ridden land, flies buzzing about her eyes. The insects do not want her here. This is their sanctuary, their domain, and they were not happy.
Yet within this ancient land, one with the water, the air, the soil, and the trees, there is an energy. A pull. It winds itself around Jaxis’ body like an invisible cord and lures her onwards, pulling her deeper and deeper into the forgotten recesses of the Tinea Swamp. Prehistoric carvings litter the trees, the torn bark stained with red paint from the forgotten natives. Red ferns grow in dense, cumbersome populations, making every step difficult.
Suddenly the insects halt their assault, the loud buzzing stops, and the world seems to stand still. There, in the clearing surrounded by rotting red ferns is what Jaxis has been drawn towards.
Nestled in the midst of the clearing sits a solitary egg. It is larger than that of any known avian, its color dull yet speckled. It rests within a crude, abandoned nest of dirt, animal parts, and sticks. Around the nest are sun-bleached skulls of long-deceased creatures, surely leftovers from a mother’s hearty meal. The remaining bones are prehistoric, from a time Novus has not seen in many years… Yet the egg is something else. Something new. It is the promise of new life, of endurance, of survival.
Should Jaxis wander into the clearing and approach the nest, all will continue to be silent. There is no wind. It was as if the world was holding its breath, waiting, watching… Suddenly, a shrewd crack cut through the silence, coming from the egg in the nest. It rocks a little onto its side, a crack appearing on its surface. Slowly the fissure grows, spreading across the diluted surface of the egg, until a maw forces its way through, for the tiny creature inside is ready to face the world.
The creature inside the egg shifts and rolls, taking great effort to force herself out of her tiny prison. It is a struggle, and an exhausting one, yet she is determined. She will not give up, not now, not after all of that waiting… Eventually she breaks free from the confines of her shell, letting her scaly legs and long tail unravel and stretch out, her neck and broad head unfolding to reveal the prepubescent form of a species long believed to be extinct. The Indominus Rex’s beady eyes peered out, blinking slowly, staring around the remains of its shell and its nest in wonder.
Instinct, however, was a prime motivator. The Indominus Rex knew hunger before understanding the word itself, but oh, was she hungry! The tiny form rolled and began to try and stand, taking a few attempts to discover and understand her legs, and it was when she had finally stood that the creature realized that she was not alone.
A creature much taller than she loomed nearby, so very close that they could almost touch with just a few paces put between them. The Indominus Rex peered at the horned equine for a few moments and then let out a faint, uncertain warble. Something about this looming equine felt right. It felt as though they were meant to be. Words it did not yet understand flew through her brain; parent. Mother. Momma. One step, then another, the small prehistoric creature approached Jaxis, and then with all the might in her tiny body, let out a shrill bellow that, quite honestly, was not very fearsome.
For now, she was small… Yet one day, she would be big. Intimidating. Fearsome. It would be up to Jaxis to teach her how.
After she has accepted the quest assigned by Turhan, @Jaxis will venture deep into the Tinea Swamp on a hot, muggy day. Through her journey she will be drawn by an invisible feeling, something raw and ancient that will lure her deep into the forgotten recesses of the swamp, where few others have ever walked before. Stumbling upon a nest surrounded by dinosaur skulls and red ferns, she will find an old egg, which hatches shortly after arrival. The Indominus Rex arrives into a world without a mother or a guide, but upon seeing Jaxis near the nest, believes that she will be the one to teach her these things. Should Jaxis accept, the Indominus Rex will return with her out of the swamp.
Jaxis has met her bonded.
Thread requirements: 1 reply, 500 words. Please tag the RE account in your reply.
How to tag this account: @*'Random Events' without the asterisk!
Once you respond, you may begin including Enyo in your posts!
I'll be a stone, I'll be the hunter,
The tower that casts a shade
***
Deep in the Arma mountains, far from the beaten paths leading into and out of Denocte, the ancient peaks gave way to the vastness of the Terminus Sea, bending in supplication to its eternal dominance. Raymond stood pensively on a stony outcropping overlooking the shoreline still miles to the west. From there he could see the Praistigia Cliffs unfold like a ribbon along Terrastella's southern border, and somewhere in there shadow he knew a sea creature lay in eternal repose, its hollow breast echoing with dreams of red and black.
Life has a way of pushing you forward more quickly than you realize. Raymond rarely succumbed to the temptation to look back, to see what he sowed in the wake of his relentless reaping, but so much has happened in so little time that it was enough to unsettle even him.
Out past the range and across those tumultuous waters were things the red stallion was reluctant to leave behind, and he had left them. It was his nature to resist attachment, to enforce a solitude that he would never have chosen for himself. Ruth was reminder enough of the wisdom of such a lifestyle, but through their brief companionships he had lowered his guard to form other bonds, to become familiar with others.
And now he almost - almost - felt guilty for forsaking a title only just bestowed upon him by someone he might tentatively regard as a friend. He would not regret, for the ends justified far more radical means than he had ultimately needed to employ, but he knew Florentine well enough by now that he at least had the decency to feel a twinge of sympathy.
At the very least he had not lied to her. Terrastella was no more his home than the riftlands had been, and the flower maiden would always in his mind be the bright-eyed girl that had saved a dying kitten for naught but kindness's sake. That was of far greater importance to him than any title she bore.
***
Raymond
And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
When the man comes around.
Terrastella had been a place where he'd worn the mantle of Regent, only to shed it when he'd followed his beloved back to her lands. To be back was something bittersweet... he wasn't sure what to think of it. It was thriving, there was that much, with Florentine at the head of the court. Máni had to admit that it was lovely to witness such a sea of faces, to see so many features in the crowds of the markets. Dusk was alive and thriving, Novus was breathing, still going. A place of wonder.
What was once home in the north was now a bitter seeming place, void of most family. The death of his in-laws had caused their migration back here. Him, Rannveig, and their child, Valkyr. His lips twitched a moment as he pondered the thought of their daughter, before he turned a little, resting one side of himself on a building and watching several others walk by. Without a title, and with time that had passed, he was now just another face to blend in to the crowd, and he had to admit... it was rather nice.
