Ice blue eyes opened to the world for a brand new day. Venari had sought refuge beneath the canopy of a large oak tree on the outskirts of the meadow. He had wanted to investigate the building during yesterday's dusk, however he had found he did not quite have time to do the search justice. Stretching out his forelimbs, Ven yawned, the bones of his jaw clicking loudly at the tension created. He then shook out his entire body, curled mane landing to rest upon his emerald antlers. The stallion took no notice of such menial things and paced forwards into a walk.
Straight ahead of him and not too far away was a grand building. Just before his sleep last night, he had run into a complete stranger who confirmed to him that this was in fact the 'Dawn Court' - he was intrigued to discover more about the eerily quiet building. The stag thought, of all places, this court could be a good place to discover a relic. After all, equines of old inhabited these stone walls, thus potentially leaving something for him to find. The crisp morning sun shone upon his back, warming him from the particularly cold night. He looked to the sky and saw only a few clouds; rain shouldn't be bothering him today.
A short walk later and Venari found himself staring at the outer stone walls of the building. As orbs scanned the brickwork, he found a familiar name written in the stone; Oriens. Tempus had introduced Oriens as the one to rise the sun and the soul to control the dawn court. From the tales, Oriens had been the trigger behind Caligo's anguish; he had been her final hope and he had let her down. With a sigh, the stallion continued his walk around the court, eyes frequently scanning all about him. He hoped to uncover some more secretive facts about the court as he searched; Venari was an avid learner and wished to find out more about the foreign realm.
*
TAGGED: Open
NOTES: Just walking the perimeter of the grounds, feel free to spot him whenever o3o
TIMELINE: Fourth relic location, second day
All was quiet, spare the gentle rustle of leaves as they danced with a passing breeze. Small fauna of the woodlands which hid in the shadows chittered and trilled their symphonic noises, blessing the woodlands with a calming ambiance. It was one of the few things in life that softened the hard lines of Ruairi’s features. In solitude, she found peace. Her muscles ached from tension, her movements were slow and her amber eyes were dimmed from fatigue. The bay roan mare wandered off the well trodden path, and into the forest’s dense vegetation, losing herself in the undergrowth in the late night hours. Once she had lost sight of the pathway, she slowed to a halt beneath the drooping branches of a coniferous tree. She inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. She repeated this a few times, closing her eyes and leaning her weight against the tree. Rauiri focused on her breathing, and listened to the ambient noises of the fauna that chirped and trilled. She opens her eyes again, still weathered from travel and from memories that refused to let her mind rest.
She was a troubled woman, memories often antagonized her and tear at her from the core, yet she would tread on silently as wars waged in her mind. It was tiresome to constantly fight with yourself, and when her thoughts did calm, she felt nothing short of exhausted and lunatic. This time was different though, her body ached and her mind seemed to throb. She let herself completely relax. For once, she felt no threat. This world was a quiet one, but not eerily so. There was life here, but everything felt so refreshing. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, hardly noticeable. Her amber eyes refocus to the trees above her, moonlight dappling her figure and the surrounding area. She was enjoying herself for the first time in a very long time.
A tasmanian devil hisses from the hollow of a fallen log, escalating into guttural growls and snarls. Ruairi is startled, ears flipping backward for a moment, only to realize there were also young devils in that log as well. The mother was only protecting them. She understood this, but a bitterness stirred inside her. She flicks the feeling away with a swish of her tail, and moves onward to ease the mind of the little devil and her family. Rather than stopping again, she moseys around, exploring the surrounding area and all the flora that scatters across the floor.
Wandering seemed to be a thing in his blood, something he did as he moved from place to place to place. Silly, really, he supposed, but it was something embedded in him since before his life altering meeting with some mischievous deities. A shake of his horned head, and he pushed the thoughts away, finding his hooves pressing in to soft grasses while his good eye focused. There were greens and blues, the skies, the grass, the trees. Hues that he could see out of his bad eye (somewhat), and many that he could see in the ruby red gaze that he held in his remaining eye. This was new territory, but since when did he tend to stay in his own places, the old lands that held him so? Once upon a time, chains had kept him down, and attached heartstrings. But now?
Now he seemed to drift wherever he pleased, and though he was a member of the Day Court in Novus, he still found himself meandering in to neutral territories. Here at least, he could find some semblance of peace for the day. He'd had plenty of sparring earlier, and though his muscles didn't ache, his mind seemed to be slow on attempting to keep up with his motions. He needed a break, something to allow him to stretch out like a proverbial cat and bask in the sunlight.
Actually... that wasn't a bad idea. A torn ear perked, and he moved himself, walking on heavy hooves towards the water nearby, allowing himself to wade in to it, the liquid soaking in to his feathering and cool against his skin. It only rose a little up past his feathering, nothing deep, but it was enough to sink down in to tired bones as his ears went back and his head decided to lower. Carefully, he drank, cream and dark hair trailing in to the water, soaking at the ends and dripping when his head came back up, winding together in to stringy little patches. It pressed against his neck, dripping through his fur, and he could only blink, gazing upward. It was still early in the day, and he would have to return back to the Day Court at sooner or later, but for now? For now he would take it upon himself to enjoy the solitude that came with being out here.
maaan oh man this is short but ah well. still a starter for anyone <3
Now armed with the knowledge of the current events in the land, Venari had opted to split off from the two equines he had only just met and try to go it alone. By now the rain was thrashing at his pelt, the large droplets causing an irritating sensation upon his skin. Regardless, Ven had to do something with himself and this relic quest seemed like his best option to get to know the lay of the land he might end up calling home. As he trotted towards the sound of water, his mind flashed back to his more troubling times. The thoughts were triggered by the forest he was currently travelling through; it had been a forest in which he had been hunted all those years ago. He shivered. Shook his head. That was enough of that; he hated to dwell at the best of times, let alone the worst.
Nostrils flared as he registered the scent of fresh water. He was here. The river stretched a fair distance as he scanned the land; this would be more work than he anticipated. What else was there to do, however? In addition, this search gave him a reason to explore the nature of this land and to potentially meet others with the same mission. Venari pushed himself into a halt just shy of the river bank. Craning his neck forwards, he gazed at the rapids and winced a little at the ferocity. No way was he wading in on this stretch.
Flicking his tail against his rump, he turned a sharp ninety degrees and picked up a collected canter. His path followed the bends of the river from a safe distance. The ebony audits upon his crown would judge whether or not it was safe to check for a relic based on the volume of the rushing water. The quieter, the better. Five minutes later and he dragged himself to a halt once more. Rain still pelted his coat as he craned his neck down to judge the velocity of the water. Much calmer. Satisfied of his safety, Venari made careful progress down the river bank, ensuring not to slip on the already quenched earth. He took a quick drink to take advantage of the resources before pacing carefully forwards in a walk with his eyes scanning all about him. His hopes were not high for this specific search but the teal stallion intended on searching most (if not all) lands within this new world for any relics he could find.
Despite his mentality, Venari was a creature of curiosity and thus he intended to complete the quest to the best of his ability.
*
TAGGED: Open
NOTES: Anyone's welcome to join in <3
TIMELINE: Just after his first relic thread in which he learned about the quest itself.
She didn't know where she was. She didn't know anything, really, she realized. Vitor was missing. Paris was gone. Her heart continued beating but she didn't know how; she didn't know if she would have willed it to stop even if she could. Did she want death? Did she want to submit herself to a darkness so thick she couldn't crawl back from? She didn't see how it could be much different than the life she was living then, but something told her to stop those thoughts before they could carry on any further—the voice of Vitor lingering, perhaps, but she didn't pay it any mind. Instead she subjected herself to walking, walking forever through the boughs and grasses, torturing both her body and soul for something it couldn't control.
The terrain changed and she could at least tell that she was somewhere new (it was all new, but that was newer). It was also day, the sun soft on her back as it kissed her tentacles while battling the threat of rain clouds in the sky. It was beautiful, really, the melding of two forces fighting to take over; it wasn't much unlike her own self, between her poison and the hate she held for it. She spent a long time simply standing and staring up at the world above her, both thinking of and ignoring everything she loved and left. The girl by the water had told her something of 'relics,' things to be looking for like a treasure hunt. Akhlys didn't know the significance of them or what they were made of, but it was something to put herself to work to doing. She could spend the hours that cut themselves into her skin searching for something she knew nothing about; at least, it was looking for Paris.
With tentacles wavering about her in curiosity, she made way for a solitary tree in the middle of their field. First she checked its roots for something it held and its leaves for something it hid, but it had done neither and she was still no closer to understanding the 'relic' she heard of. The single tree would turn into her refuge, though, as rain fell lightly but determinedly from the clouds that beat out the sun.
" there's no way tonight
as far as I know
that heaven will take me
so I'm staggering home "
There was a change in the atmosphere as he arrived - the stars shone brighter, gleaming in competition for his far reaching gaze, glittering like diamonds on the satin surface of the obsidian lake and clambering at the corners of his vision. The earth stilled at his step, only the slightest ruffle of breeze through his ebony curls proving that he was indeed present, not some wraith-like imitation. Reichenbach stood amongst the silence, or at least the kind of silence you could only get when the world was passing you by, accentuated with the occasional whisper of wind or crunch of gravel, the pipe of a night heron lashing whip-like through the darkness. A heart-sore sigh crept from his vast lungs, draining his hurt like a pin-prick, leaking that agony into the soft embrace of the evening.
Darkness wrapped him like a cloak, shadows lingering in the delicate infrastructure of his rough hewn face, hooking themselves underneath his chin and at the corners of his abyssal eyes. The quiet of the lake was a pleasant change to the inconstant noise of the city, an abrupt difference that instantly relaxed him. He had lit a small campfire a ways back from the lake, but had left the small campsite to wander the lakes edge, to ease the distress of his aching mind and renew the vitality that thrummed within his veins. It had been years since they had left - years, now. Rhaegar would be a true man, would he have children by now? Reich felt his heart cramp suddenly at the vision of two silver haired childer, a boy and girl with Rhaegar's handsome, weather worn smile and Swallow's kind eyes. Not his. Not his children.
He looked down, examining the stony shore beneath his neat, hard hooves. The harsh chord of discontentedness clanged through his sable mind, though behind it lay the perpetual song of his life. It was a haunting melody, one that he had tried many times to write down, to play, to sing - but it was true to him, and never came out right save for when it flowed through his mind. He had always had music playing within him, like a river of sound and song, a constant companion to his lonely nights and most cherished memories. It thrummed now, low and bittersweet, both soothing and enraging the tumultuous waves of his emotion, battling within his deep chest for triumph. Reich did his best to ignore his inner confusion, focusing his long lashed eyes upon the moon reflected in the surface of the lake, knowing that all too soon he would be amongst the clash and clamour of the city, of The Night Court.
He had heard the rumours of the relic that had been blessed by Tempus himself and despite his haunting condescension toward any rumour, Reichenbach could not help but to gaze over the lakes vast surface and wonder. He hummed softly to himself, a beautiful, sweet melody that he usually reserved for the orphans under his patronage. The tune echoed hauntingly over the lake, travelling far, searching for an ear to curl around, a heart to summon.
She didn't stop. Her legs carried her over time she could not keep track of, endlessly moving even though breath was all but gone and even Vitor was left behind her. She was running blind, running as far as the land stretched; Oblivion rested in waste as an ugly memory, the place where her already-broken heart was torn apart again. She couldn't take much more, wouldn't be able to keep herself together if she saw Paris, but he was also the only one she wanted to be beside. She didn't think she would find love like theirs; she was a snake, a deadly viper who caused death with just her words, and he a brilliant lion that should have never seen her as worthy. He did, though, and that was what would destroy her.
She could have been the death of him, but maybe he would be the death of her, too. Maybe she wouldn't complain if he was.
Her coat beneath her eyes were dry, matted strands from all the tears she had shed. The world around her had darkened as it eased into the shades of night, and her body heaved as it was relieved from the strenuous task of galloping across the lands. She was ready to collapse, and perhaps she would have then if her entire being hadn't focused on heaving breaths to regain her stability. The cool dark air brought her sweat-stained coat much needed comfort, the equivalent of a cold shower after hours of working in sunlight. Her tentacles all but drooped to the ground beneath her; the world spun in time with her flaring nostrils as knees shook. It wasn't long before she found herself among the grass of whatever field she lost herself in.
She didn't care to look around, didn't care that she was the sole thing in a pool of grasses for as far as the eyes could see. She only hoped she wouldn't be approached, though she wasn't much in the position for speaking anyway. Heart racing, she allowed her eyes to close with ears twitching in all direction to pick up any noise that might indicate company.
The damp air of the swamp embraces the little witch like a long lost friend; the weight of it does not bother her even after the hug has been long-outlived. The gentle tug of the stagnant water on her hocks reminds her of home, and she cannot stop herself from advancing further into its depths. She has spent far too much time travelling through foreign territory, and the familiarity of the place is comforting. Yana expels a faint cough before skimming the layer of green algae with her muzzle. The humidity will do me some good. She raises her head again to cast her gaze behind her. But what if you are already inhabited?
The witch's senses return slowly as she surveys her surroundings. She keeps her body as motionless as the trees standing guard while she searches for foes, but there is no one around to disturb the silence. A large stone monolith is barely visible between a pair of ashen trunks. Curiosity has taken hold of the mare, but she doesn't proceed until another minute of silence has passed. Yana's past experience with swamps is as incredible as they come: according to her dam, her past home had had certain magical qualities about it that made it seem alive. It had also been a fairly loyal being -- for a swamp at least -- and would have devoured any trespasser as soon as they set foot in its murky depths. Perhaps this one was simply more mild, but it was more likely that it lacked magic instead. The little witch wasn't sure if she was more disappointed or relieved by this fact. One day we will breathe life into you, friend.
A trail of porcelain hair drifts across the water behind her as she approaches the towering stone figure. It stands at an impressive 7 feet tall, and from this side it was about 3 feet wide. Its surface is nearly as black as her own hide, but instead of being marked by stars it is adorned with runes. Yana can recognise a few -- her aunt had had a crazed fascination with the old languages, including runes -- but they are nonsensical. Whoever had been trying to mark the stone was clearly an amateur. Or could they mean nothing? Grey-green eyes scrutinise the obelisk in an attempt to make sense of the etchings. Another cough explodes from her maw whilst she circles it. Could they really just be coincidence?
{This thread is open! Also, the obelisk doesn't have to mean much of anything! I just figured that since no one has discovered this place maybe we could add some more info about the surroundings? c: Yana will most likely spend lots of time here, so she would have made some kind of marker hehe. ^^}
Everything seemed....still. There wasn't a sound in the air, not a rustle in the soft grass upon which he tread. Even his steps were muffled, making them seem distant and foreign. He could almost imagine that he was drifting, gliding across the darkened meadow carelessly, his mind free of mortal chains. It was a lovely night, he remarked, one that almost allowed him to gleam his past magnificence. The sky was dusted with stars, a white streak of some starway weaving across its indigo expanse. The wind carried the smell of lilac trees, the white kind he'd seen blooming near the edges of the forest that encircled the Dawn Court's pride and joy - the meadow. They even named it, he thought glumly. It's not just a meadow, it's the illuster meadow. He glanced about, amberglass eyes taking in the disconcertingly still expanse of forestry and huddled wildflowers, closed up for the night into tight buds. Kaldin shook his head, mane falling over his eyes. He did not make a move to brush it away. What good does it do to name a piece of grass?
These trivial matters were beyond him. He’d been doing his best to escape humanity since it had removed its mask of gossamer hope to glare him in the face with trials and falsehoods. Instead of facing it head-on, he’d ducked his head and immersed himself in a craft that he’d always been captivated by – that of potions and the intricacies of the equine body. They called him a Caretaker – “I prefer Bonebreaker, or perhaps Lifesaver,” he’d wanted to say. “Something more grandiose.” And yet, the name Caretaker had stuck – it made him sound like some small child who looked after smaller children, foolishly wandering after the useless youths until he’d gone hoarse with calling their names.
With a start, he realized he was unnerved. He paused in his brooding trek, lifting his drooping head to eye his silent surroundings. It took him a moment to pinpoint the source of his shaking – yes, he was quivering, it seemed his body did that now. Without the daily chirp of birds or the bustling sounds of the herd, he was reminded of his time spent in the cavern, of the reticent stone faces and endless nights, trapped in a tomb of his father’s making, deep beneath the earth. His mind wandered to the collar about his neck, and his gave it a tug. It held, stubborn as always, a patent reminder of his blunders.
”Soon,” he whispered, out loud, in hopes of breaking the silence. He’d heard the rumors, as they all had. Of a relic, some godly item strewn about the land thoughtlessly by one of their inconsiderate gods. Kaladin would never have been so careless. But I am no god, he remembered. He set back into his march, eyes set stubbornly on the horizon. Yet,he added. This was the first gleam of hope he’d received since his fall. If this godly item was as potent as they said, whatever power it contained might be enough to break the cursed collar and free him of this disgusting body once more.
His amber eyes gleamed in the darkness, lit like lanterns by the idea of gods and monsters. Leaving mortality behind. Once again, he allowed himself to feel like he was gliding, his hoofsteps becoming muffled until he thought they might be the heartbeats of the earth itself, egging him onwards for its own redemption.
Character #1:Damascus. Bonded: A realistic companion - Long-eared Jerboa Magic: none Armor: none Weapons:none
Character #2:Aryel Bonded: none Magic: none Armor: none Weapons: none
D A M A S C U S
As a colt Damascus's most favourite fables had been the ballads of warriors and valiant victories, the recapturing of distressed damsels from ruffians, the triumph of an unlikely hero over evil and so on. Dreams were what they had become, precious dreams; the riches of the poor. Of course, the lad had never truly expected to ever amount to anything like it - poets didn't write from slavers dungeons, so the servant to the stars had believed that he would never accomplish anything worthy of ballad-like heroism.
Or so he had thought. The tides had changed, and now an altogether different moon rose over the ember now. He was free and he now had a life to call his very own.
Heroes ought to be handsome, or so Damascus thought. The stag had little notion of what was attractive and what was not - he'd never seen an ugly fellow, nor a devilishly handsome one... had he? In his wondering mind he hardly ever gave much thought to his own appearance, though he could for now agree that he was happy with the skin he was in. He looked normal.
Heroes also must also be strong, fierce and brave - or so they had seemed in the tales told to him from dank corners of the dungeon. Damascus had no real idea on how to accomplish this besides practise, and if he was to truly be a warrior of the Dusk Court he certainly ought to shape up. Hill work would become a key element to his schedule, a daunting task involving romping up endless ascents in order to build back muscle. Dohv had told him to do it so, as always, he did.
Experience on the battle field and the ferocity garnered from a hundred fights came from doing just that - participating in spars with worthy teachers, losing occasionally, etcetera. So it was with a great lump in his throat and heavy wings that the gangly stag sailed under a wall of god-like mountains, his heart and mind firmly set on finding a sparring partner in the Bellum Steppe. It was sundown - his most favourite time of day.
The warrior landed with a thud of monolithic hooves and a swoosh of folding wings, the lad's head held curious and high as he found his way around a flat, grassy stretch of prairie. No one should interfere a spar here - no animals would cross their path he assumed, and the terrain seemed quite agreeable save for a few nasty rocks. Sheepishly the colt grazed his chin upon his shoulder, gaze cast over his surroundings in search of a potential partner before he ushered a bellowing challenge. "I Damascus!" he would begin, taking his maw to the air as he expelled his mighty voice from his lungs. "Fight you me - Wish I to learn!".
And so began his wait; His cards were dealt.
Summary: Damascus arrives at the Bellum steppe, swoops in and lands. He finds himself on an agreeable battleground on a calm stretch of field with just a few rocks to look out for - he then proceeds to call out for an opponent!
A little translation: "You fight me - I wish to learn"
