the Rift


Official Posts: 847
Stallion :: Equine :: ::

The Empress is Dead...

Redemption was what the Empress sought, and perhaps that was what she received. The teeth and feathers that the Dark One once wore so proudly were scattered about her carelessly, stomped into the ground. Around her body appears to be the molted skin of some sort of reptile. It is a pale colour , and some fragments are tangled in her name, and a few beneath her neck. However there are no paw prints or tracks on the ground, suggesting that the Empress did not try to flee her fate. Perhaps she met this last challenge with the new found understanding she stumbled upon later in life. We'll never know.

I. The EIGHTH clue, revealed from the death of PSYCHE is REPTILE SKIN

Not a problem! Just reply to this thread so that you can have access to clue 8 and any subsequent clues. You are welcome to continue forming teams and letting us know who is in the team in an OOC note at the bottom of your post.

Someone from each team must post here in order to have "found" the clue.

This clue will be available for ONE WEEK. During this week, you may post and submit your guesses via PM to the OFFICIAL ACCOUNT. At the end of one week (7 days), we will close this clue and post the ninth clue. Get in on this plot while you can!

Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE
Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk

The golden hadn’t been hanging around the sky isle much, but it was a quiet resting place from the rest of Helovia (especially with Haldir hidden away in the north) which still seemed to be missing the winter. Here though with the cherry blossoms and the quiet hills there was a sense of peace to be had that lay in no other corner of this land. There of course was very little peace to be found lately because of the viciousness of murders of late. The golden had heard from his comrades what they had seen, and he too had found several dead bodies littered through this land. None of it really seemed to make sense. He had found leads and clues, but he was not certain.

The peace though was not to be had for long today, but he would get another clue. Coming down another hill a familiar scent rose in the air. Its sharp coppery tones, bitter with blackness were the well-known signals of death. The body was not far in front of him, and it seemed he was one of the first to it. The mare was unfamiliar (for the golden knew not of Psyche and her tirades). However the erriness which hung over this site was more unusual than the others. For once the gold felt cautious and if not a little spooked. Looking about her crushed body there lay yet another clue. A reptile’s skin was draped about her. But there were no tracks. Snorting, yet leaning in to sniff at it the gold is deep in thought. This he needed to tell the others. However, he was most curious if his pink spy would come. That mare had dashed away from most of the death scenes, so the gold retreats, but hangs about the outskirts curious as to who would show, and if the mare could be identified.

OOC ::


[Image: 5381546acbe33]
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
och jag växte upp snabbt, från min barndom var det allt—jag föddes redan slagen
då tänker du tyst och skriker högt, memorerar hela jävla monologen som skrevs för din inre röst,
Somebody tore the ground from out under him. Punched him the gut, the eye, solar plexus; he breathed out.

But he couldn't breathe in again.
He couldn't even think.

No. It went deeper than anything he had ever felt before—deeper than the agonizing misery that set his bones on fire, deeper than any other moment he had shared with her.

He wasn't sure this was "sharing", though. Sharing meant there was more than one party present. And he was there, all right, too shocked to even cry. But she wasn't there—not anymore. The flame-and-shadow he'd known and not known at all was no more.

He could barely wrap his head around the meaning of those words. He might've wallowed in his self-pity, shouted that the king is dead, but fuck that. He wasn't dead. He was very, very far from dead. And now, death stared at him, cruel and humorless, through the dulled eyes of his once-lover. It smiled knowingly through the cracks in her body, taunted him with the rich smell of it.

Without knowing it, he had drawn breath again—soft, tentative breaths, hesitant, intruding upon this space in which she no longer breathed.

Who had done this? How could it have happened? There was reptile skin, and angrily he brushed it away with his muzzle, eyes blurring up with unbidden tears.

"Psyche," he croaked, heart staggering. The King and Queen—one dead of heart, one dead of body. Soul. Everything. Complete and utter silence in the hallways of her thoughts.

He had never gotten to know her again. Never gotten to love her again—for he had, then and always, deeply, viscerally, not as whimsically and flightily as he loved Ophelia. It had been love of another kind.

But it had been love. And now, she was nothing. She would be earth. He ground his teeth together.

Something had to give.
Someone had to pay.

The Phoenix King would rise from its ashes and he'd see the fucking world burn.

[ NOTE: Mau remains by her body. He'll eat your face if you try to touch it. ]
du lät exakt som ismael.
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

Sialia Posts: 169
Outcast atk: 6 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 8 Years HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
I Ain't Got Time To Bleed

Death, Death, Death. The words are a jumble in my head, and I am finding it hard to focus. I find myself back on the floating island. I hate this island. Why was I here? I don't remember, I don't remember. I feel the pressure in my body, looking for an outlet, looking for some kind of release. My blood boils, my mind screams, and it is all to much. I can't take it.

The smell hits my dizzying senses, and it draws me forward. I stumble almost drunkenly towards it. My eyes are fuzzy, and I can't concentrate. But I need to concentrate. I need to. I have to. This was another murder.


"Stop!" The word is uttered almost to soft to hear. I need it to stop. I have to find the smell before I can give into the cravings, before I can deliciously roll in the sticky blood of the innocent.

A rustle in the bushes draws my attention away from the moment, from the current mission, and a two toned face snaps to catch the unknowing creature in ivory jaws. There is a terrified squeal, then a crunch, and a satisfied sigh, before I am back on my mission. Just enough release to focus. I need to focus. As I emerge, there is the body. A dark body of a woman. Reptile skin scatters around the surrounding area, and I move closer, ignoring the ebbing need to kill.

What the fuck.

Reptile skin? How in the world?! What in the world.... I need to get to Midas. We would need to discuss this. Figure it out. Who killed this woman, and who left her to rot? Or where they even a who? Maybe they where an it.

Tag;; @[]

Team Midas

Credits: Whit's tables were an inspiration | Coding by Schwartze | Image
[Image: 538c1505470d5]
Please tag Sialia in all posts! Thanks!

Snö Posts: 155
Deceased atk: 4 | def: 8 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: 4 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE

This was why she hated Helovia so much. Everywhere she turned there was nothing but pain that stuck icy daggers into her heart. How she had ended up standing where she was, the only thing that mattered was that she was staring down at her mother's lifeless body. Why did Helovia have to be so cruel? Hot tears stung her eyes and her heart cracked as she stepped closer, hoping and praying that from the distance she just couldn't see the rise and fall of her sides. There was nothing. No breath stirred grass or dust by her muzzle, her eyes were cold and dead. The frozen princess choked back a sob and shook her head, regretting every hateful thing she'd ever said to her mother because she hadn't hated her. She'd never hated her.

Sno turned her head to the side as someone stirred beside her and she wondered when he had showed up. "Dad.." She choked the word out, wondering if she would be feeling the same emotion if it were him lying dead on the ground. Yes. As disappointed as she could be with him so often, and as hateful as she could be toward him he was still her father and she still loved him. She took a shaky breath and looked back down at her mother, her body trembling as the weight of death pressed down upon her.

She desperately wanted to be comforted, wanted to be lied to and told everything would be okay when it wouldn't. Seeking out that comfort the icy girl shifted her body closer to her father's, her head lower as she gazed at her mother. "I'm sorry momma." She whispered. "I'm so sorry."


you're looking at an absolute zero
i'm not the devil but i won't be your hero
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Fig Posts: 57
Up For Adoption atk: 3.5 | def: 5.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16 :: 20 HP: 56 | Buff: NOVICE
Beluga :: Common Beluga Leviathan :: Bubble Trap Adoptable
It had easily been a month since the last trip she had made to Sky Island; the first place that she had come face to face with horrid foul play, the utterly gruesome face of death. The cloud-lift as she had so fondly learned to call it, was another feature that had both intimidated and poured hesitation through her mind – certainly not something that filled her with glory or gave the impression of liberty. Fig felt most comfortable with four hooves set soundly upon the sturdy crust of the earth.

The journey into the south, through dense forest and across rivers wild had been yet again long and tedious, though the dim outline of floating land had provided swell encouragement, a destination growing ever neared. She had not left the homeland she had grown so attached to in many weeks, months even perhaps, the thrill of exploring and learning about the culture spread through Helovia paled beneath the ominous threat of murder, and the young, humble-hearted Lignea had lost pleasure in the vast wonderland outside the Edge.

Fig dithered, just like every other time, before stepping near enough to summon the cloudy bridge. She drew a long hard breath and readied her most unprepared mind for the boggling feat to come. Ok, she breathed gently into the warm southern wind...Go, now! And after one last hesitation, the awkward tree-girl surged forward until the powdery-white plumes began to build about her heavily feathered hooves.

Without any reservation, and apparently oblivious to the mass of flesh and bough trembling over head, the clouds carried her. Moments later they had dissolved altogether again, and Fig was perched atop the island, gazing down across the flurry of activity which seemed to be an ever present feature of the island’s village. She set off boldly down the lush green slope, with the tent replica of her home in mind.

But alas, the Lignea was distracted from her journey by a group not far aside from the village; tucked curiously from sight, but with enough traffic to draw her interest. She approached cautiously, all too aware of the grim scene she might uncover after the last. It was true; her wariness was rewarded handsomely by the discovery of yet another horrid corpse. It was a dark horse like herself, no doubt brilliant in her time, but now she lay broken and sickeningly dead upon the earth.

A horned stallion stood guard over her, so Fig dared not venture to near. She was humbled by the creature, and paid both only a respectful glance – she did however notice, as her soft green eyes touched briefly the fallen, that strange scales or reptile skin lay here and there about her. It made little sense and she had not the heart or stomach to linger for any great length of time. Unnatural death was something she just could not stomach... and so she turned with a heavy heart, to continue along her way towards the village.

Four Strangers
& Fig

Image Credit
Plots | Absences | Wishlist
Please tag me in openers and spars
Permission for all except death 
(no need to ask)

Deimos the Reaper Posts: 527
Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB
Death had taken many souls, wandered through grasslands, through empires, through sovereigns and plucked, scorned, dragged the living into its infernal abyss. Most had been wholly unfamiliar to him, lost morsels scattered from various runes, foreign, unknown, pillaged and absconded, and then several had been a part of their own. But as he slunk through the rolling clouds and the pervading warren, he never would have presumed to have seen the Empress, the asp, the venomous wraith who had once so prominently displayed her prowess, extinguished, dissolved, fallen and tainted.

His memories of Psyche were among many measures of General abilities and soldierly sway; he’d been a summoned sword, a beckoned blade, an unrelenting rapier – and he’d orchestrated her bidding, he’d bestowed her prisoners and chained Ladies, he’d cast her wares, and he’d drummed behemoth soullessness at her orders and at his own satanic reverie. It’d been a fine testament and skill to their cause, launching, dividing, lancing, while she plagued and slashed, while she bent and plotted - the poisonous Queen upon her throne. Like days of old, where political structures rallied and fell, where anarchy brewed and quelled, where they were free to maim, rip, tear, because they’d been the ones thrown from their homes, they’d been the ones relinquished of their kingdom. The Reaper could recall the images with bits and pieces of fondness tucked away between the enamel of massacre and ruin, because those fragile moments had been the beginning of their reign, of their namesakes, of their chilling whims.

But as he neared, as he closed in, as he advanced towards the remains of a strong, enduring cretin, only the last time he’d seen her pierced through his cold, calculating shell: after loss, after defeat, where her horn had been in shambles and he’d only watched as the Engineer ripped her away from the icy throne. He carried her scepter now, infernal and scorched, nestled next to his scythe, and in some strange notion, he felt the rancorous edges of regret sear across his molten frame; became another quiet witness as Mauja guarded her corpse, as Sno motioned closer to her father, as the world went on living despite the fact that a once pristine, dark opus fell upon her iniquities. In a lingering, feral amends, the beast said absolutely nothing, because he presumed the structure of his movement would say it all (a bowed, lowered crown, a ceremonial plunge from one licentious fiend to another, allies eternal), and chose to stand guard on the opposing side of the Ice King. Silent and steadfast, muted and constant, no words needed to be exchanged. The beast, the Reaper, would act as another immoral sentinel while the rest of the world meandered through the ripple of scorn and the bastions of loathing curling from their stances.

[Just here for the character development. ;D Deimos is standing on the opposite side of Mauja, also helpfully guarding Psyche’s body. ^_^]
delivered from the blast
last from a line of lasts
and now the kingdom comes crashing down undone
background pattern by
image credits
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme


A plague exhaled its rotten breath on Helovia, leaving in its wake a slew of bodies too damaged and broken to live again. The rest walked through the fog with bated breath, trying not to breath in the poison that had been leaking into their lungs all along. The dark fever was unstoppable and so was the fever boiling tensions in relationships and corporeal beings alike. Blood and battles were all that made sense now, lost between the heartbreak and tragedy. Words, so easily spoken without thought, bashed through walls, creating irreparable damage on a single exhale. What was done cannot be undone. What was spoken cannot be unspoken.

Forgiveness was weakness, a chink in armor necessary for living.

Her armor was ice, bolstered and fortified with every clash of her horn against another living being, with every strain of her muscles and every bloody gash on her otherwise flawless form. As she stood, shaking from exertion, muscles quivering with the workload, sweating, she felt power. The pale princess walked with purpose, a gigantic 'fuck you' to anyone daring to cross her path. She was over being the snowflake, gorgeous, unique and at the mercy of any wind blowing her around.

Ophelia saw hell gathered in the distance, and she forced herself to approach, like two similar ends of a magnet being shoved into each other as they fought desperately to separate. There she stared into the dead eyes of her aunt, lingering words from a crying girl sinking in to confirm suspicions she had ignored for so long.

And she felt nothing.

What could she feel now? Ailith. Phaedra. Psyche. All strong, powerful forces in her life which so deeply etched grooves in the bas relief of her story. All of them gone. Snake skin of such a unique color shed over her body, and the a slow burn billowed smoke through her heart, clouding any ache with rage. The entire world disappeared in a single exhale, and she lifted her eyes, orbs birthed in hatred, to settle on the only object in a reasonable emotional distance. He stood over her corpse as if he cared, as if his tears would earn him respect, his pain would bring him absolution.

It wouldn't.

She knew. Ophelia quickly glanced at Deimos before her gaze snapped back. The girl had called him daddy. This was momma. This was her aunt. And Mauja had left them all too.

The smile that curved her lips only darkened her eyes, bitter enough to leave a foul taste in your mouth. She said nothing. There were no words with greater meaning than the weight of her expression. Ophelia glanced down again at her dead aunt, and she brazenly brushed her whiskered muzzle to the mare's cheek. "Rest with our kin, aunt," she whispered, taking a single step back and then turning to the girl.

Shards of the lost stone, still trapped in the pale and crimson loops of her hair glittered and shone in the night, making her a true fallen star. Ophelia frowned, her expression genuine. Children did not deserve to carry the sins of their parents, and she knew that weight all too well. Paladin, Riekahn and Soleil still haunted her steps, their associations and enemies becoming hers. The very blood in her veins held the ghosts of thousands dead from the murders of the Crimson King.

"I know your pain all too well," she whispered, the loss of Soleil still so fresh in her perfect memories. "Honor her memories. She will live in every step you take." Ophelia spoke clearly, the dialogue to her niece heartfelt and honest; it was as open as she could be, given the circumstances.

She stepped away. She had someone to blame. Ophelia had a fight to start. A fight she would lose, but one she had to start for honor. Cold eyes rested on the Frostheart once more. Tears will not avenge the dead. Blood will. ""He will be brought to justice." The promise hung in the air, boldly spoken.

Unable to be unspoken.

Valhalla seekers]]

Faith shattered and decays as frosted blood flows in my veins

sdrcow @ DA

Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done.
Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning.

Please tag me in every response!

Official Posts: 847
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
** You need to be posting your groups in these posts! **

Kahlua the Sunshower Posts: 662
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Equine :: 15.3hh :: 9 [Orangemoon] HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Khan :: Common Blue Dragon :: Frost Breath Sevin
The island was supposed to be a good and happy place, but nothing was ever so simple as it seemed. The queen nearly bit her tongue as she stumbled upon… Well, there were a lot of things. First and foremost was the body on the ground. She hardly looked. She hated it- death. Besides, there was something infinitely more important in this little impromptu gathering on the island- Mauja. The queen’s heart shattered as she looked at him. She felt her emotions go from a steady go out of control in an instant. She felt her pulse go from gentle to pulsing, from slow to rapid, at the drop of a hat. Her limbs started trembling, her eyes started watering, and she could feel a scream building in her mouth.

She wanted to. She tried to. The scream would not come. Her heart ached in silence, the noise caught in her throat. It ended up coming out only as a terribly choked out sob. “No,” she hissed through teeth that were damp with excess saliva. Except her eyes did not point at the death on the ground. They looked straight at Mauja- at the horn on his head, at the ice that she could sense swirling below the surface of his body. He had done this. She knew it. He had done it, and she had been a fool to trust him. Stupid. She had called him friend so quickly. She should have known it was all a game.

“No,” she choked out again before gathering her trembling limbs and starting to run. Away- she ran with all the might she could muster, leaping from the Edge of the island with all the reckless abandon of a foal. She trusted the clouds to catch her, to deliver her safely to the ground, where she could run some more, away from the idea of Mauja the killer returned. Had he thought she wouldn’t find out? She had to find Resplendence…

It was only the watchful eyes of Khan that spied the snake skin on the ground beside the body. He would tell her later. For now, she needed to mourn.

@[Mauja]- tagging you because I thought you might find it important/relevant

Posting for World’s Edge Sweethearts- Res, Jahzara, Kahlua, Nayati
Khan & Kahlua
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Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Kahlua at any time
for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing her.

Please do not tag Kahlua unless it is in an opening post
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
och jag växte upp snabbt, från min barndom var det allt—jag föddes redan slagen
då tänker du tyst och skriker högt, memorerar hela jävla monologen som skrevs för din inre röst,

And now it was too late. Now it would always be too late. Now.. her ears would never hear what he had to say, what he always should've said, and her eyes wouldn't see that he was finally here again, and.. and all the things she had never told him, she'd never say. The only thing left between them was silence and emptiness. Mauja swallowed. The world was a distant din, the roar of a waterfall just beyond the bend, muted out by the tall sentinel trees; accompanying it was the fast-paced, uneven thunder of his heart.

And everything was his fault. Everything, all the time, everywhere, had been his fault. She had died without him. She had faced whatever last trial alone. And in the years before this.. reunion, he had not been there for her.

He had no right to mourn her.

He'd been nowhere, for himself. The guilt only made the pain harder to bear, eyes pressing shut as ragged breaths passed through wide nostrils. It was one thing to lose someone who had somehow become as much part of you as yourself—another to lose them knowing how much you'd let them down.

"Dad.." she whispered, and his blue eyes slowly slid open again. Snö. Snow. Daughter.

It hurt. He didn't want to let her in. Didn't have any strength left for her, because he was already coming apart.

But he had to. Because she needed him, and no matter how much it forced the crack in his heart open wider, he needed her too. She was as much of an orphan as you could be, raised by dogs and ghosts. For all that he'd been missing in her life.. he couldn't rob her of the only semblance of a parent she had left.

The world would go on without them. Without him. Without his attention. A large, white head draped over a thinner varnish roan neck, a curtain of pale hair falling to veil her from the pain of the moment.

The worst of it was that he hadn't been kept away from them. The worst of it was that he'd left them, as if he could and nothing would change. And then, he'd never done enough to earn their forgiveness.

He'd always disappeared again. Chasing lost dreams and broken hopes and some chance of redemption, not realizing that the past couldn't free him; only the future could.

And death, cruel and indiscriminate, slowly counted down, whispering that if it was not his time running out, it was theirs.

He wanted to yell. To roar. Wanted to scream until the pressure in his chest lessened and the world wasn't so dark around the edges.

But he couldn't.

"Rest with our kin, aunt," and he realized he'd never asked Psyche of their homeland, as he'd promised her so many years ago in that cave. Just another number in the reckoning. He breathed in, smelled little but Snö and the salt of his own tears, blinked, forcing the sorrow from his gaze. Deimos stood silent vigil across from him, the Reaper's necrotic touch beating subtly against his frozen body like echoes of a time long past. Once, he'd been used to it, to the dizzying, soul-sucking sensation of trying the beast's patience with a touch. And Ophelia—he could've laughed, bitterly, at the irony of it all—giving his child the advice he couldn't.

And others. Spread out around them. Golden, black (right, that was Glacia's mom), disfigured draft, and.. Kahlua. Kahlua, staring in uncomprehending shock. Kahlua, turning, and running. His heart kept beating in its confusion, but he couldn't make sense of it, couldn't even begin to guess. Just swallowed, and tried to pull himself together. Tear-glazed blue met the cold, definite of silver and crimson. "He will be brought to justice." "He will," the broken beast whispered back at her, wondering who he was.

But that didn't matter. He didn't care who 'he' was. He'd rip them apart anyway.

Slowly, his eyes returned to Psyche. Drank her in. So innocent, so plain in death without the fire of her amber eyes, without the deadly elegance of her movements, and the sweetened poison dripping from her lips. Psyche, no more, no less, delicate and black and hopelessly, utterly dead.

A fresh wave of tears tracked down his face.

"I will not leave her for others to gawk at," he finally managed, another fragile whisper borne by a too-weak voice. His head abandoned its place across Snö's neck and bent, a final touch, black velvet against black velvet, but the spark, the connection, was gone. Psyche was gone.

Psyche was gone and in the brief moment he truly understood the meaning of it the world nearly threw him to the ground, and he could barely breathe for the fire-pain running rampant through his veins.

And then he locked himself up again, shielded himself from the knowledge, swept up the reptile skin from the ground and handed it to Irma—she'd come down, a little ball of white, her tiny heart bleeding not because she cared about Psyche, but because his did. She took the evidence, and returned to doing yet another thing Mauja couldn't: caring for Diego, too young to defend himself against the vicious strength of his bonded's grief.

Who went around with a big, pale snake capable of strangling horses?

"Sleep well, darling," and this time he knew where to find them, those little birds birthed from his pain. Hawks—for she had always been a hawk to him—of fire hung in front of him for a moment, their flaming wings beating, beating, beating.. but no amount of willpower could induce the moment into the lifeless. He swallowed. This would be the last time he saw her. The last time anyone saw her.

He let go of the birds, and they fell, too-hot and elegant, to touch her black hide and scorch it, sear her dead, dried skin. Slowly he incinerated the woman he had loved. Protected her as best as he could in death, when she could no longer protect herself. Protected her, as he never had in life, because she had always been so strong, and who was he to assume she needed anything at all?

They had raised their walls high, and only once could he remember letting her see him.

The fire crackled, its heat washing against his face. Slowly he drew back a step, forced back by the power of his own creation, muzzle trailing over Snö's back as he moved. What do you say, when you've just lost someone you didn't quite know you cared so much for, until it was too late? What do you say to a child who just lost its mother? What do you say to someone you loved and let down just as badly as everyone else? What do you do when you feel like you cannot hold your existence together anymore? When all you want to do is simply fall apart, and lay there on the ground, and never rise again?

His eyes, scorched clean by the fire, red-rimmed and so dark, turned back to Ophelia. His mind was full of snakes and fire. "Gaucho?" he breathed, a hot whisper.

It was the only one he knew who fit the bill.

Someone's lying in the grass, with frosty clothes, so still and white
And the blue lights are blinking, to think how much you can do with a little knife...

[ NOTE: Psyche's body is now burning. And here's some music. And some more. Also, Mauja has no team. Tagging @[Ophelia] because he's trying to talk to her ;~; ]
du lät exakt som ismael.
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here

Roskuld the Sparklight Posts: 424
World's Edge General atk: 7.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 82 | Buff: ENDURE
Zchiraxicon :: Royal Rougarou :: Electric Smithers

I didn’t know that the dark mare who laid there dead this go around had any relation to me whatsoever—and maybe that’s a good thing. that came out rougher than I thought it would. Give me a chance to explain it, goddamn.

Okay so. Picture this; tears everywhere, people groaning and being all sad ‘n shit about someone having mysteriously fallen dead and no one knows how to stop it. It was becoming too familiar, which was probably the most awful part about it; the hundredth (thousandth) time around wasn’t any less painful than the first, but callouses form for a reason and a heart’s a muscle, so maybe they get callouses too.

Maybe I was getting a callous?

Except no, that’s bullshit because I was still feeling the bile rise up in my throat seeing a crowd of mourners gathered around this dead stranger to me, an auntie I never knew I had, never cared to find, didn’t think twice about. Someone called her ”mama” and I almost lost it right then, anyway, just having the idea of losing my own Ma cross my mind. And speak of the devil there she was right there, her own sadness palpable, possibly a clue to shared blood and heritage—but all the sight of her did was make my throat constrict, these feelings that I couldn’t change or fix or get rid of kind of squirming around inside, keeping my feet locked and unable to go see a Ma I could lose any day, anytime. (Way to turn the pain around on yourself Ros, jeez, that’s not insensitive at all. Bitch.)

I was close—really close—to walking forward, seeing the mess in detail, seeing why my Ma had such a sour, bitter look in her eye. But I stopped myself, seeing someone else go to my Ma, speak to her, get her words from her, soft as they were. I opened my mouth—then closed it. The paleness of the stranger seemed familiar, but there was too many confusing, swirling things in my head to piece a memory together. I didn’t have a voice for my Ma that could be heard by stranger ears.

So I left.

Which is why it was probably better that I didn’t know that mare was fam. Shit was weird enough as it was.

[Daily dose of emo Ros :| ]

Please tag ROSKULD in every reply!

Lena the Songbird Posts: 663
Aurora Basin Time Mender atk: 4 | def: 10.5 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: 6 HP: 69 | Buff: NOVICE
Imogen :: Common Kitsune :: Fire Heather

It seemed no matter where she wandered, she had to compose funeral hymns and melancholy laments, and the lithe nightingale was simply tired, haggard, and drained from all of the loss. There’d be no song from her today: the dead had already been consumed in embers and ashes. When would it end? When would it fall apart? When would they finally find the beasts, the monsters, the behemoths whom quartered, who designed, who plotted, and managed to tear and maim beloved citizens? When would they be safe? How far did they have to go? The questions never stopped and all her mind could do was reel amidst the horrors, the terrors, the condemnations of strong, enduring spirits. Even when she and Imogen were late to the gathering, weren’t quick enough to have seen her in the flesh one more time, she recognized the figures surrounding the pyre, the inferno, the blaze, and knew who it was. Their proud Empress, dark and twisted, malignant and conflicted, fallen and wasted on the outcrops (she’d healed her, she’d mended her, she’d assuaged her; on the outskirts of the caves, watched her cretin-essence alter and change again, urge her to find dominance, supremacy, return to her former self: had she even had the time to find those missing pieces?) - Psyche. A tragic end to a powerful figure, a cloaked viper, a diligent cobra, a kiss from reptilian interludes - the Time Mender looked away from the crowd and at the crisp snakeskin nearby, hanging her head again, composing and gathering herself when every single time she approached a body her heart and hope weakened just a smidgen, just a minute amount. Why couldn’t they stop them? Hadn’t there been enough clues? Hadn’t there been enough discoveries? Hadn’t there been enough death? How much more would they have to bear and withstand, before justice was christened? What darker traces still lurked outside these heavenly walls?

[Team Healers and Thieves!]

where there is love, there is life.</style>

image by safetylast @

Tandavi The Fire Dancer Posts: 245
World's Edge Nurse atk: 6.5 | def: 9 | dam: 4
Mare :: Equine :: 16.1 :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Natraj :: Plain Kitsune :: Fire Charks

tandavi & natraj</style>
Fire Dancer is relieved to see the body, relief followed by a crippling guilt.

She has been neglecting her pledge to find the murderer- neglecting it spectacularly, to be frank, though not without reason. Her world has run into a wild bout of action, shifting adventure and new horizons.... the knowledge of a killer has not left her mind, but it has not pressed its way to the forefront, not until recently, with the return of her kin. Death has been distant, murders a foul disease afflicting those she does not know: pictures of atrocities being committed upon a distant shore; important, powerful, but faint in meaning when she is so deeply preoccupied by the overwhelming horror of being made queen.

It is the return of Amaris which makes her afraid. Makes he realize she has seen little of Caneo. Of Hototo. Where are her friends? With a killer on the loose, could she possibly be sure? A sinking fear settles upon her chest- could it be that in her time of distraction, as she lay encased by the overwhelming tide of responsibility which threatened to devour her from crown to toe, her friends have been following a path she set, fighting a battle she swore to undertake, and found themselves prey to a killer in the process?

Sun God, no. Her footsteps hasten.

She finds the body on the slopes of the Island, raised high in the sky- the same place she found the first one, and the memory makes her ill. She is not the first, not the only, though she recognizes none of the unicorn (so many unicorn!) swarm which surrounds the fallen form. From her side her brother darts forward, a shadow between countless legs, moving closer to the obsidian form, to the snakeskin strewn haphazard about her body, to...


All at once the body is alight, a pillar of flame, and the magic hits the girl at once. Fenenc and filly turn away suddenly, struck by the relief that the deceased is not theirs, mauled by the sadness which rolls off those assembled in rivulets. It is time to find her friends, to reunite with Caneo and Hototo and discover the progress they have made. It is time to reassure herself that she will not have to use the same firebird power to set someone she loves alight.

[ team teenage awkward turtles. Tavi picked up Mauja's magic ]

image | code

o. pixel pony credit to tamme
o. permission granted to use force and magic on Tavi
o. only tag me in opening posts, please!

Hotaru the Valkyrie Posts: 295
Outcast atk: 7 | def: 10.5 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3hh :: 6 Years 3 Months HP: 67 | Buff: NOVICE
Alice :: Royal Hellhound :: Acid Brit

who can say if I've been changed for the better?

It seemed with every new death, a new mask was unveiled to reveal the face of someone that had actually meant something to the beautiful thief. It hurt, and at times she despised the Goddess for tearing her heart so efficiently, but then she remembered that the Goddess was not the murderer. She was not the one choosing the victims. Still, it was hard to continue down her path, especially when all eyes turned to her in outrage whenever she would steal the clues that would help them find the killer. Hotaru had stopped caring what they thought, killing the internal emotions of her soul in regards to the bodies she found, and yet the complications were never-ceasing.

Her breath left her in a daze as she followed the whisper that she had learned to understand was the premonition of a new body to find. Perhaps the Goddess guiding her in the right direction, ensuring she didn't miss anything. No, that was unlikely, as the Goddess was more self-serving than benign.

She had come late, a sense of dread pervading her very bones, but when she had seen her mentor's dead visage she'd almost fallen to her knees. Instead she swayed, eyes clenched shut away from the image as she struggled to swallow. Only when the burn of heat touched her skin did her eyes fly open, and suddenly she realized her quest was going to be far more difficult.

Fucking Helovians, but she knew that she was perhaps asking for too much, when it came to needing a piece of her hair. She really didn't want to get into another fight with the idiots that held so much value over a body. Even she hadn't mourned this much when her parents had died. Or maybe her heart had just withered too young, and now she simply didn't care any longer.

Careful to try and keep herself out of Gaucho's line of sight, she watched as a lock of hair was burned away from the nape of Psyche's neck and was swept away from the burning body on the spring wind. It glowed with clinging sparks and embers at the base, and she quickly snatched it out of the air, throwing it to the ground and stamping on it quietly to ensure it did not burn up. Clutching it in her teeth she turned and wandered away, controlled, not desiring to bring further attention to herself. Except those eyes she had always felt on her were still there, and she bristled. His face and coloring was familiar, as often as she'd caught him following her about.

Hotaru stormed over to Thranduil with murder in her eyes, teeth bared and ears pinned tight to her skull. "Leave me the fuck alone and stop fucking following me!" she hissed, venomous and acerbic. Her tail thrashed like a writhing snake against her hocks, the crack of a whip that she wouldn't hesitate to lace upon his spine. Spinning on her heels she turned and stalked away, fury boiling past her distress until she was hot with it. Basin or not, she would not tolerate him clinging to her shadow, and she'd happily run him through with her horn than deal with his pestering.

[Image: 515265280ffff]

::Strong like the sea is stormy::

Please only tag starting posts, spars, and threads collecting dust!
Plot with me here!

Adelric Posts: 101
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 16.3hh :: 1.5 [Birdsong]
Tobias :: Common Cerndyr :: Lamplight Sevin
The half-child arrives at the scene of the murder, having been upon the island looking for his mother. Of course, the death he sees on the ground is not his mother at all, but he supposes it will have to do. It is, after all, the most important question that he has to answer at this point. There are many scientific mysteries to solve, many queries to answer, but he must prioritize. For now, this mystery that he must figure out will have to suffice in place of finding his mother. He doesn’t even know why he came back looking for her, except that he loves her and it is hard to live in the Basin. He thought he would be happier there, and maybe he is, but he doesn’t really know. All he has is Erebos and Zunden. They are enough, of course, and yet… it seems like there must be something more in this world. Whatever it is, he has does not know it yet.

As he comes upon the pyre of the body burning on the ground, Adelric instantly begins scrutinizing. She has been burned, but it does not seem to be the cause of death. There are too many around, too many mourning. This is a ritual. There is something more… His careful eyes finally fall upon the snake skin, shredded and flaky, wavering for a moment in the wind before being consumed by the fire as well. He frowns, but decides not to longer. There are far too many others here, and too many of them interacting with one another. He does not belong in this ritual. He must find Erebos, and he supposes Aithniel as well… Catching Tobias’ eye, he heads off back towards the clouds to return to the Basin. At least it was not a wasted trip.

The Foal Muskateers- Adelric, Erebos, Aithniel, Rikyn
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Adelric at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.

Please do not tag Adelric unless it is in an opening post

Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE
Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk

Psyche and Mauja, those were familiar names, and as other gathered to watch over the fallen mare the golden took each face in turn. He was lucky, for it was the last time anyone would see Psyche’s dark face, as he watched her burn under the old king’s touch. Harks lean back but he does nothing. Keeping his post near from Deimos who received a silent nod. What was curious was the arrival of Sno, and her relations to Mauja. That most certainly was valuable information. Though the gold seriously doubted he would willing run into that bitch again. Several others come and each was noted for their curious activities, though he tries to stay out of Kahlua’s sight.

The golden sees the pink spy finally come over the rise after the Psyche’s body is sent burning. She’s late, tsk tsk. Not good to be late. Miss all the good stuff. What the golden was unprepared for in her charge at him. Cocking his hind at his post on the outskirts of the gathering and letting a small smirk flash across his face the golden waits for her to come. Her words cut through the morbid silences of the place but the gold is in such a playful mood for her, and laughs low in the face of the snake. “You’ve been busy of late.” It actually turned out most of their meetings were coincidence, but the golden enjoyed her anger. His tasseled tail rolling back and forth behind him with ease. “But unfortunately you’re not in a position to tell me what the fuck to do bitch.” The gold gathers himself to move on, and talk with Deimos more about the strange deaths of late, but his eyes cut sharp to the pink spy. “You were late. We don’t have time to be late to these things. See it doesn’t happen again.” Then with wink the gold moves off at a walk, his confidence and ego complete as he heads for the Reaper who stood guard not far off. Would the pink spy retaliate? For her sake she better not.

OOC ::Forgot to say before, but posting for Team Indignant [Deimos, D'Art, Zinny, and Thranduil]


[Image: 5381546acbe33]
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
Ascended Helovian

Gaucho The Wildfire Posts: 1,004
Deceased atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.2 :: 12 HP: 85 | Buff: PINNACLE
Mara :: Black Mamba Snake :: Paralyze & Vorsa :: Plain Zephyr :: Phoenix Odd

Shake your mind from slowly sinking under
[I was not going to do this ... but OH WELL.]

The flames that burned silently and without heat on Gaucho's wings were nothing compared to the flame that he still carried in his heart for Mauja. The pain and guilt that etched and blackened his soul had not been relieved for seasons, and it was a weight that was starting to break his back if not already his mind. He had lashed out at Ophelia once when that fire was hot and new, but even after all this time the sight of unicorns - of white ones especially - was enough to blur his vision with blood and hate. Mauja had drawn he and Midas away and then just slipped into the sea. Like nothing. The Dun had returned to the death and destruction of his home and of his family.

And it had been the white unicorn's fault.

Seeing him now, in this unexpected circumstance did not ignite the fire in Gaucho's belly the way he might have expected. Mauja was here. He was next to a dead body, and yet ...

Perhaps it was Ophelia's presence. She had taught the Wildfire many things, either knowingly or not, and today some of those lessons were brought to bear.

Gaucho descended from the skies in a flurry of feathers and fire, his large hooves sinking easily into the earth. He was still unable to see for himself, but through Mara's borrowed vision the entire scene unfolded around him clearly.

He couldn't tell who the burning body was - it was all charcoal and stinking flesh to him, for Gaucho had never met the dark empress. It didn't matter though. The dun had returned to this island time and time again, looking for clues that were missed, silently hoping to find another murdered body so that he might stalk the murderer ...

But finding Mauja with Ophelia was the last thing he had expected.

"YOU." He bellowed, ears against his skull as he lightly stepped forward. Gaucho was not intimidated by the horned creature, nor the fire that licked away at the Empress' body.

His gaze (via Mara) shifted to Ophelia, and his entire body shook for a second. It took every ounce of willpower within his dark body to not simply kill Mauja right then and there. Could he? He didn't know. The creature had disappeared into the ocean once. But there was no ocean here to mask his escape. Gaucho thought he stood a fairly good chance. Still ... He would heed Ophelia's previous council ... besides. He had a power that they didn't know of.

The Sun God had bestowed to his herd the ability to see lies. They were told that hooves of liars would burn should their lips speak falsehoods.

"You kill her?" The dun demanded, antlers lowering dangerously. Just because Gaucho had decided not to try and impale Mauja immediately did not mean he would not be shown the same courtesy.

Image Credits
Please tag me in every post! Magic/Force is allowed on Gaucho at any time.

Tamme the Tempting Posts: 140
Mare :: Other :: 2 :: 2 HP: 9001 | Buff: Admin
Continuing for:

Megaera the Sunspear Posts: 306
Absent Abyss atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15 h :: 8 [Birdsong] HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE
Gwaihir :: Golden Eagle :: None Laine
Meg was really beginning to dislike this island. It was a marvel to be sure, and from what she had heard, it had started out as a place of peace and fellowship in Helovia. Now it was only death… Death and a good beating. This had been one of the first places she had come to upon returning to Helovia, and that had been at the scene of the first murder. The first of nine, or at least nine that were common knowledge… Meg wondered how many undiscovered bodied lay across Helovia even now.

She had followed her Sultan here, trying to find an opportunity to discuss some policies on patrols that she had taken issues with (sending injured boys away from the safety of Dragon’s Throat was just not acceptable). It didn’t seem like she’d be able to start that discussion here, that’s for sure. The earthen warrior landed not long after her Sultan at was met with a grisly sight: The burning body and its unicorn guard. This scene was different from the others she had been at, where there others had been spectacles of grief, tensions seemed to be running high now like she had not felt before.

Immediately, she picked up on Gaucho’s restrained anger (not hard as he began to yell at one of the unicorns) and her mind clicked into militant mode. The flaming stallion made his accusation and Meg, faithful soldier that she was, set herself half a step behind and to his left and steeled herself for a fight. She raised her wings behind her, feathers bristling and kept her sharp eyes on the array if unicorns

Notes: Short bad post on my lunch break to back up Gaucho (Meg’s-Fav-5ever)
Posting for CSI: Helovia (we have not been keeping up with these posts like –facepalm-)
be brave and endure
:: permission given for use of magic and force :: please tag Megaera in all posts ::

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