the Rift

[OPEN] Where All the Veins Meet [Basin Gathering]

Deimos the Reaper Posts: 527
Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB
Through the winding eaves, through the patchwork nettles of crystals and scorned deliverances, through the arts of indifference and the callous shambles of liberation, they’d been offered emancipation again. Deimos coveted it through his wicked grasp, his trenchant grip, his malicious, conspiring calculations until it brewed and brooded over the surface of his reticent enamel, burst from his lungs, sizzled in his bones. News spread from the tips of electric harpoons and rugged daggers, where resting scabbards lay, sheathed and forlorn, tedious and desolate, harboring for the moment of escape from the endless abyss of their pestilent hideaway. Hours had been whittled away in the aspects of the unknown: how long they’d have to bend and break in the confines of this hellhole, how long they’d measured their ravenous appetite, how long they’d all been sullied and driven to virtuous plumes or unsung violence. Finally, resolution simmered deep into the pits and the pendulums, searing, ferocious, vibrant, and audacious. Their kingdom was not in ruins nor buried under rubble. Their palace was not consumed or devoured by the aching hymns or laments of salacious wraiths. Their thrones did not lie in tatters, stone thrown into lakes or streams. Their banners still flew, rapiers and cutlasses, their emblems still remained, their pride, their glory, their refuge, their sanctuary, their home endured, persisted, stood tall, brilliant, icy and mutinous. Mighty, stalwart, titanic, avaricious and yearning, a monolith of steel and treachery, waiting, remaining, halted and paused until they touched its rime surface, its cool contortions, its heathen, icicle palisade.

For once, his careful consideration, his riveted composure, his solid, rigid, taut movements were not a factor amongst the warren, web, and maze. His motions were a nefarious opus, marching, meticulous, conniving and purposeful, not a single wandering step, not a moment of lost bearings. Swift, quick, rapid, war machine tethered to a place, a hold, a sanctuary of enmity, apathy, and hostility, beckoning his soldiers, his troops, his comrades, his patriots, to awaken from their earthly slumber. They were permitted to obtain the auroras, the hills, the snow, the pinnacles, once more – to be gnawed on by the wind, to be chased into its scenic avenues, to be blessed and corrupted over and over again, swallowing dreams and anointing maelstroms. Through his diligent strides, he murmured, he trumpeted, he commanded and demanded, shirked the soulless, the heartless, the tired and the forsaken, beating a restless, fervent temptation from the inner sanctities, the columns of crystals. How many still strayed, earnest, eager, just as ferocious, just as wild, just as untamed? How many would they be unable to find, lost in the fathoms of the bestial shades? How many would follow? How many would stay true? Were they just as ardent as he, committed, dedicated, to every inch of the emboldened frost? Into the arches, into the primrose paths, into the blighted and denounced, he pledged the right of their advance, the chiseled armaments they’d discarded, deep, booming, dominance refined and regained. “The Time God has granted us permission.” Did it drift far enough for their ears? Would they hear the bells, the croons, or the hums of their world begging, yearning, imploring to be taken back? He stood, bellowed, christened, ordained, king, lord, and death, aching for the weapons, the people, the legends of their realm to unfold. “We are returning to the Basin.” Wraiths, ghosts, specters be damned – the world was theirs again.

[Gathering place for Basin members to gain info in moving back. I’ll give this thread a couple days before we head to the Basin (likely on Sunday/Monday).]

delivered from the blast
last from a line of lasts
and now the kingdom comes crashing down undone
background pattern by
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Déodat Posts: 174
Absent Abyss atk: 3.5 | def: 10 | dam: 7
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17 hands :: 12 HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Odette :: White German Shepherd :: None Minx
Déodat was ready to leave behind these blasted tunnels and caves. He wanted them and the darkness to become a distant memory. The corruption that had eroded away at his soul didn’t weigh upon his shoulders like perhaps it did others. A sigh passed from his lips as he walked forward and headed toward the place he had hidden the egg. Mostly he wished to see that it was still there and no other had gotten their hands on it, after it all it was his. He had been the one to find it and the one to make sure it was kept out of harm’s way. All he wanted was to se what could come out of the egg, maybe it could be of some us to him or the Basin.

He shot a quick glance about the glowing room and when he noted no one seemed to be watching he walked toward the hiding place. The egg had been carefully tucked into the far left corner underneath one of the trees in a nest of moss. “Hello my little prize,” Déodat said with what could’ve perhaps been labeled as affectionate. Really he had grown fond of the little thing, and he hoped what came out wouldn’t disappoint him. The egg remained where he had placed it, so he simply went about with his business.

The stallion took his time munching on the moss along the ground and then trotted over to the waterfall to quench his thirst. After his stomach was full, and his mouth no longer dry he returned to the egg and looked down at it. His eyes widened in horror at the sight of a crack. Was it hatching? Or had he done something to disturb it? The entire time he had been satisfying his needs he had been keeping a careful eye upon the egg, so he knew that nothing had come near it.

Nearing the egg, he walked carefully and inspected it. The Blood Prince backed away when there was another crack appearing. Whatever was inside was hatching, and now all he could do was watch and wait to see what would come out. After several minutes the egg completely cracked, and out was no chicken or bird… It was a dog, not only that it was a female dog. Wait, how did he know that it was female? There seemed to be a whole other consciousness lingering in the back of his mind, and it slowly dawned on him that perhaps that egg held a companion. He thought back to Imogen, the kitsune that trailed behind Lena. Déodat perhaps wouldn’t mind such a creature, as long as she made herself useful.

“Odette,” He whispered, giving the pup a name. The Blood Prince lowered himself to the ground so then he was laying beside the white babe. Odette yelped and cried, which he assumed was a good thing. The little rat was covered in ooze from the egg, and with a quick glance over his shoulder, he then licked the white thing clean. A foul taste filled his mouth and he snorted. “You’re lucky you little bitch that you’re bonded to me otherwise I’d let you rot.” That was about as affectionate as the brute could get really. “Time to go though, we’ll gather you up some food.” Déodat stood up and then picked the pup up with his mouth and dropped her onto his shoulder. “Hold on.” He said, positive that she couldn’t understand.

It didn’t take long for the Blood Prince to find a sufficient meal for his mutt and once she finally ceased her crying he continued on, seeking out a place of solitude to be alone with his little bitch. Perhaps it would be good to bond with the little thing, after all, they were two halves of one soul now. The call of a familiar voice broke over the silence between the mutt and master. His eyes perked forward slightly at the sound of the familiar voice. It appeared he would finally be reuniting with his long lost herd.

Déodat trotted, being careful that Odette remained nestled carefully between his shoulders and wasn’t falling off. When the Reaper came into sight, the Blood Prince felt a form of relief. The Basin hadn’t fallen, a reassuring sight. “It’s good to see you’re alright Lord Deimos.” He said with a dip of his head as he came to a stop. Odette gave out a yelp and she poked her small head out from under his mane. The pup was still barely a day old, thus blind as a bat, but perhaps she sensed the familiarity of the figure before him. It would be strange no longer having the sanctity of his mind. Now it was a shared space.

talk talk talk

Déodat & Odette

Image Credits
[Image: QV8O7HU.gif]
Cut from the cloth, of a flag that
Bears the name of "Battle Born"
con by aihnna@dA

Arah Posts: 343
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Wynter :: Royal Griffin :: Draining Clutch Frostie

The words drift down the cave to her ears, exhausted Arah rises and gently nudges Arwen from sleep. The young filly's golden eyes open and blink a few times. "Come on little one, it's time we get ready to go home." The mother doe was exhausted and sighed glancing around. Shaking her head the doe wonders how the twins mange to keep slipping away. If Arwen is missing, Asch was to be found and vide versa. It was worse when they were both missing at the same time. "Where has your sister got to?" Slowly, Arwen still dazed from sleep, the pair make their way down to The Lord of The Basin. Her youngest daughter had been kissed by the sun, the golden streaks in her hair and the markings on her body were fascinating to Arah. Asch on the other hand had been kissed by the moon, she was the much darker twin. "There is no need for you to speak during the meeting Arwen." Schooled Arah. The doe knew that her youngest daughter would hate not being able to speak. Yet Arah could not have the meeting interrupted by her daughter's ramblings. "Lord Deimos and Lady Illynx will not take interruptions kindly..." Glancing down at Arwen's ivory face, Arah recognised how hard Arwen was trying to keep silent. "But Mumma! Arah chuckled as the words burst from the golden child's lips. "No my sweet." Softly Arah made sure her daughter knew that her word was final.

They wondered down to where The Lord stood, waiting for his herd to gather. Deodat so far was the only one who had appeared. Arah bowed her antlered head at the grey stallion, her golden eyes studying him. "Lord Deimos." The Impersonator was ready to go home, it had been too long. The Basin called to her in the nights that she stayed awake nursing her daughters. "This is one of my daughters Arwen." The golden filly dipped her head the way her mother had taught her. "A pleasure my lord." Where had Arwen learnt to speak like a proper maid? Proudly, Arah stepped back and waited for the rest of the herd to gather. Her daughters truly were full of surprises. A happiness surged through the ivory mare, finally she would be able to show her daughters where they belonged. Their family included the members of The Basin. Blood didn't tie them to the snowy lands, it was loyalty. The land that their mother served in would hopefully become the land that they also served. The proudest day of her life would probably be the day when she saw her daughters serving The Basin.

443 Words.
Sorry it's so crappy! I can't find my original post that I saved...if I do find it I'll update this with the better post ^-^
Anyways Arah and Arwen reporting for duty.
And I ain't afraid to die, I’m afraid of going to hell.

✽ Force and magic permitted. ✽
✽ No fatal or permanent damage. ✽
✽ Please only tag in opening posts. ✽

Krieger Posts: 43
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18.2 :: Seven Buff: NOVICE

If I’m a flame, I’m a forest fire speaking savage tongues
Hulking frames did not go hand in hand within the dark tunnels which he had lived in for much to long. Grumbling, as always, he made his way through the maze searching for something that might peak his interest. The massive white and red marked stallion paused as a voice entered his ears, the word basin rang in his ears and caused him to about-face. Heavily feathered legs moved the monstrous body towards the sound of voices. he had not meet his heard's male leader, yet he had heard of him and was intrigued to see whom had spoken so boldly. His single working sun drop squinted as he entered the brightest room he had found yet.

Milling around in the center of the room was four of his kind. As his pupil contracted and he gained complete, well as good as a pirate can have, he tossed his head allowing his scarlet mane to fall like a cloak over his only weakness. He strode towards the group head lowered in order to keep his curving horn from scraping the rough stone ceiling. He eyed them all without really caring until he noticed the foal. He couldn't help a ghost of a smile to flit over his gigantic snowy face. Somewhere buried very deep in his cold heart he loved foals, wanted to make them all killers, but he loved them.

He turned his sunny eye towards what seem like the main unicorn there. He drew himself up as much as he could, making sure he would not break his best weapon, and towered over the stallion. Eyeing the smaller dark grey male he dipped his head lightly before his thunderous voice rumbled from him, "I am Krieger and I am at your service, sir." He gazed calmly down at his leader and could not stop the thought that almost made him below with laughter, 'Such a puny leader, they both are.' There was no humor on his face however as he stood directly in front of the thunder cloud stallion.

"Devil's Tongue"'Horrific Thoughts'

Farenjer Posts: 68
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hands :: 5 Buff: NOVICE
Our lives are changing lanes

The stallion grazed along the glowing room in silence. Casually leaning upon his flank and pitching his gaze upon the cold earth below, he couldn't help but find himself getting much more accustomed to these stone havens. They were very peaceful, blissful places meant for the safety of those who treaded within them. A sigh tumbled from his lips as he paused from his feeding. Although these places were welcoming and shelters from the dark, dark, world he knew if the herds remained within these closed stone walls they all would become mad. Already the routine of opening their eyes and looking upon a dim ceiling of stone was angering them all. Many acclaimed it was a cell, a prison to keep them from the true world out there. Somehow, Farenjer rather agreed with these boisterous people but also disagreed. They all could easily tread to the surface and greet their helovian land as they keep claiming they will do. Though, Farnejer wasn't too sure that Helovia would greet them back. A shudder ran along his neck as he stood in solitude. "I hope these creatures are long gone now..." A small frown turned his lips down.

As he motioned to graze once more on the soft vegetation with the Glowing chamber, a darkish tone of a call came within the stone hollow. “The Time God has granted us permission" Almost immediately one man slid within his mind because Farenjer knew only one man who had this darkish tone. Deimos. The artisan lifted his head and began to tread forward. Lean muscles rippled beneath a dark coat, pail ghostly eyes flickered forward as he stretched his neck towards the small framework of the passage to the Crystal hallways. A glimmer of hope beamed off his eyes as he could only guess why the Basin Lord had been in attempt to round up all the basiners. Its time to go home... Ominous yet anxious words dripped into his mind. Farenjer continued passing the glass and crystalized walls until he found the space where several unicorns lied, including the reaper who stood tall and looking upon those who had come now. Immediately Farenjer's eyes seemed to wander on the prestigious Arah. With her daughter by her side, Arwen. As he slowly began withdrawing towards the meeting he noticed a very large stallion who approached with a strange atmosphere. Farenjer narrowed his eyes as he observed this snowy unicorn, with crimson mane and tail, a unique horn stood upon his cranium. Curled and husky. Scarlet stich like markings cascaded upon his large body, and a pair of yellow eyes that looked serious. The stallion had a bitter taste left in his mouth as he looked away from the tall unicorn. Crossing over towards another stallion who Farenjer could easily recognize as Déodat. With a bay figure and unique white spot splashed upon his back. There was a small creature by him that Farenjer could not recognize as anything he'd seen. It looked like it had definitely just been born. The artisan was rather curious on the white creature but looked away and approached Deimos.

Farenjer halted before the reaper and tilted his head in a mannerly greeting. Before withdrawing towards a place nestled near the antlered mare and her small filly. He spoke under his breath "Hello Arah, hello Arwen..." Silently he looked at them then back upon Deimos. The muscles in his legs twitched as he was anxious to return to the snowy valley. Longing now for the hot relaxing springs, the hollowed caves stood at the foot of the mountains, the mysterious large mirror that few understood, the refreshing center lake that stood as a source of energy and life. Briefly he closed his eyes and thought of treading through that narrow passage into the basin. His eyelids then lifted and patiently he waited for the rest or anyone else who would come now. His ears crept with the silence of the room as they all waited for a sign of more or unspoken words of the lord.


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Roland Posts: 230
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE

Hope settled precariously in Roland’s chest as he heeded the Reaper’s call, unhesitating as he slunk through the tangle of pathways, chiseled and carved through a labyrinth of crystal, a kaleidoscope of lights reflected and refracted across ancient stone and pools of clear water. He prayed for good news, that the wraiths had been abolished or that their homelands were now free of shadow, but doubt still wore at his resolve. Steeling himself for the worst, he followed the sound of the Reaper’s voice until the gathering came into view, huddled beneath the crystalline glow.

He stepped into their midst and waited, paying little mind to those around him once Deimos began to speak, and the words he had been waiting to hear ever since they had fled into the caverns echoed in the silence. We are returning to the Basin.

Their salvation had come not a moment too soon. He could hardly wait to breathe fresh air or feel the biting wind upon his skin, search the sky for stars and drink from untainted waters. Sensations beyond the stench of damp moss or stale drafts were almost lost to him. They had not been underground all that long, but to Roland it had felt like years, centuries, drowning in the shadows and the jungle of caverns, having no device with which to prove the passing of time. Soon, though not soon enough for his liking, they would be back in their frozen halls, at home amongst mountains and sparse forests, and the hot springs he was so fond of. And end would be put to their suffering, at long last. Roland breathed a sigh of relief, sending silent thanks to the Gods. Until they took their leave of the underground he would linger impatiently in the darkened tunnels, eagerly await deliverance from the depths of the grottos, seek out the open sky, and never return to the Sanctuary hidden beneath the hallowed ground.

Push your luck if it makes you a promise
that turns con men honest.

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Asch Posts: 25
Filly :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 8 Months

Asch and Arwen

Behind the glowing ivory forms of her mother and twin sister, the golden brown child glides along. Asch will not walk alongside her mother any longer. Any ties she feels for her dam have been dissolved rapidly with all her mother had pressed upon her shoulders. The glee of her twin is almost sickening, but she cannot condemn her for it, no matter her desire to at time. So instead the lass walks on her own, independent, golden green eyes never straying from her twin. Arah always moved into a panic when Arwen fell into an episode of coughing, crowding her like a worried hen and crooning sickeningly over her. Asch knew how to tend to her twin. There was a reason she would push her mother aside and care for Arwen on her own. But today is not a day for Arwen's illness to strike her unawares, and so Asch attends the meeting from a distance, silent and ever watchful like a golden eagle. Her attentiveness over her twin only strays to see her supposed 'Lord'. She boldly steps forward to brush her side against Arwen's, ignoring the fact that her mother had silenced Arwen from speaking during the meeting. Arah does not rule her, no matter if Asch had been born from her.

"I won't speak of you as Lord, like your underlings. But you are Lead to me." A bitter smirk curled her beautiful lips, turning them into something sad, a waste of a face. "I'm the unspoken of second daughter, clearly," she huffed a laugh. Already aware of the fact Arah would chide her for this, she turned and moved to find a spot of her own. Arwen would be fine with their mother at her side. Asch, however, would only feel safe and loved in the presence of her Papa. As she paused she dipped her crown to the Lord of the Basin in a show of respect, showing she meant no harm by the fact he would not be called Lord from her tongue. He was still her leader. But Lord was something reserved only for the deities of Helovia, and she would not settle it upon the shoulders of a mortal who could sooner turn on her as lead her to glory.

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