the Rift

SWP :: Through the Fire and Flames

Archibald the Dauntless Posts: 386
Absent Abyss atk: 6.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 8
Stallion :: Equine :: 18.3 hh :: 10 years HP: 80 | Buff: SHIELD
Loretta :: Alaskan Malamute :: Time Slip Time


I will give your heart a place to rest when everything you had has turned and left.
I'll weave your names into my ribcage; lock your hearts inside my chest.

The stallion stood at the back of the group, eyes at half-mast, watching the Sun God's bright light. Golden eyes noticed his brother bombard Ophelia, calling her Evers and try to pry from her. A ringing anger--a stinging betrayal, more likely--lurched inside of his chest, but Archibald stood in silence. If this were anything like the appearance of the other lands, there would be a fight here soon. Despite Archibald's dislike of the Sun God, his hatred did not burn deeply in comparison to that of the Moon. What the Sun God did long ago had been wrong, but time had healed the wound and the anger that raged within the stallion's chest. In fact, the Foothills did not even exist anymore--nor did the evidence of the Sun God's anger and wrath upon the terrain. A snort left his muzzle, black ooze spewing from his nostrils. 

The black slime slid down Archibald's face, staining his pristine blaze and darkening his already midnight hair. His ears rang, but he could smell everything. He could smell trickles of sweat beading off of the others surrounding him, the salt buried deep within the earth, and even the change in the weather. At first, it was painful, but now the pain had dulled. The wolves and the Goddess had given this disease--and Archibald wondered if there was some cure in the Sun God or this new land. Golden eyes flicked around as horses came in and paid their respect to the golden deity, but Archibald stayed at the back of the group, ready for something to happen. Carefully, his eyes moved to Ophelia once more, nodding in her direction, before his eyes moved to Ranjiri. Jiji... he thought, muscles tightening beneath his fur. The Dauntless took a step towards the hybrid filly, the determination to protect her heightening within his breast.

Image Credits

Stands in the back of the group, but takes a step towards RANJIRI. Mentioned: Knox, Ophelia, and Ranjiri.

GLL symptom: Has the olfactory sense of an elephant, with 1,948 OR. [Random Event]

Through the ages of time
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.

please tag me

Cera the Golden Prince Posts: 419
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.3hh :: 6 Years HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Ilaria :: Red Panda :: Heal Brit

I'm an angel with a shotgun, fighting till the war's won, and I don't care if heaven won't take me back

How he manages to find his way to the east is beyond him. Ilaria truthfully guides him, for she will not be left behind a second time. Not after witnessing the memories tucked inside his head, the aftermath of his mistakes with the Moon Goddess. She tells him when to bank, where to go, following the throngs of others as they await the new lands. It is a pattern now, one they cannot deny, and Cera will roam on their outskirts for however long it takes to find his Lord. He does not interact with them, holding Meg's promise inside his heart to keep the darkness of his solitude at bay. He has come to despise his sister, making others effortlessly love her and devote themselves to her while he claws and scrapes and fights every minute of every day just to keep a stable friendship with a singular person. Let her hate me, he thinks bitterly as his wings guide him onward. We do nothing but drag her down. Midas had told him eons ago that Cera's worth had never been lesser than Hototo and Ranjiri. Cera should have known that just like everything else Midas had ever sworn to him, the Gallant would be wrong once more. 

He is terrified by this new disease. The ghoulish auras of those around him are frightening in a way he's never experienced, and his knees tremble even as he steels his face whenever he encounters others. They appear wreathed in flames of different colors, their features vague and gruesome in the haunting ghostly lights around them. He stays away, blames it on the infection, when in reality it is because he hates himself and them so much that he cannot stand to infect them with his personality. A far deadlier disease than what lays within his lungs, choking him with tar and weeping blackness that makes him feel a sense of comfort that his outsides finally appear as tainted as his insides. 

Ilaria guides him gently to land, and though she has no flighted ability of her own, they have been a singular soul for so long that it's as natural to her as it is to him. She directs him past the ghouls with their wraithlike lantern lights, keeps him far from the groups that hunch together in their sickness. Because one figure above them all stands out in the darkness that his vision has become, shining bright until there is no more hellish landscape around him. He'd know the form anywhere, for how it visits him in his dreams and how he pursues it in the waking hours. Away from all the others, for fear of infection and fear of their hatred and disappointment, he bows low to his Lord. Tears are thick and black as they cascade down his face -- relief.

His faith is concrete, completely unshakable. Where his Lord goes, where he commands, Cera follows. "My lord," he breathes, and his breath hitches on tar and emotion. "Please absolve me," he whispers, because he does not doubt that his Lord can hear him regardless of how loudly he speaks. "I trust in you and your light. Please lead me from this darkness," it is not a baseless plea. Cera is willing to fight and die for this celestial standing glorious before them, and if the history of the past two gods would repeat itself...perhaps that would be his fate after all.


Stays as far from the main group as possible, bows low to Sunny and speaks to him.

Cera sees everyone like this due to the GLL but the flame colors are the auras of the individual!
Please only tag starting posts, spars, and threads collecting dust!

Kaj The Aurelight Posts: 381
Hidden Falls Conscript atk: 4.0 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.2hh :: 8 Years 9 Months HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE
Arabella :: Common Zephyr :: Wakiya Brit
the aurelight

His leg has not healed right.

Truly Kaj has nobody to blame but himself, for how he stubbornly sent the Basin healers away. Had they at least helped others? It's a question he cannot answer, and it makes him hate himself just a little bit more. The pain is dulled to an ache that he can ignore, but it is the way he walks that has been permanently altered. It is not even a walk so much as a stiff-legged limp, and he feels older than his pinnacle years imply with how his shoulder feels deadened and useless. There is something wrong with the nerves, something Resplendence's healing could not fix after the hours spent worsening on his flight home. There is a long, gruesome scar that adds to the one on his opposite leg. Both garnered in battle, but one out of honor and the other sheer dumb luck. 

He feels useless. He feels broken.

Bellowing out a cry of anger, his magic seems to explode all at once, having steeped like tea thickening and growing darker with each passing minute. Electricity dances along his skin, eyes shut tight against the memory of Cirrus, and how she is intrinsically tied to his storms now. He cannot watch his sparks dance before him without remembering how they'd reflected in her eyes, and he wonders if he will ever be whole again. Kaj valiantly ignores the tight bands that seem to envelop his chest, squeezing until he fears he'll pop. What if he is broken? What if this is it? Will he ever be able to learn how to fight with a deadened, aching limb? 

He cannot bear to think about it. Another failure. As if you'll ever amount to The Great Archibald. His own bitterness seems to zing along his teeth and behind his temples, dancing across his eyelids to paint pictures of his own despair. Kaj finds his wings in a moment, needing to escape, to get away. As if he could ever outrun the newfound reality of his physical impairment.

How long he flies is not noted, but subconsciously he begins to follow the ebb and flow of the masses below him. By the time he notices he's upon them, drifting downward, standing alone if only because he does not know who to stand near anymore. The landing is difficult, stiff. Kaj ignores it, though it still plants another stake deep into his heart. Words like broken and useless drowning out all other voices that murmur and whisper with tension around him. Until he turns, and all he can see is the Sun. 

Ophelia had led him down the path of faith, giving him the basics and letting him figure it out on his own. But Kaj had never actually met one of the gods in person, not since the brief visit with the Moon Goddess when he'd been made King of the Edge. He bows almost immediately, but even that is an ugly and twisted thing with how his leg refuses to bend correctly. Frustrated tears prick hot behind his eyes, but he ignores them. The sun. "It is an honor to finally meet you, mijn Heer," he speaks clearly, wondering if he is worthy of the attention of the dearly beloved celestial. 

Everything I've loved
Became everything I've lost
image credits

Angrily summons his electrical storm (will tag BFB/RE) before flying towards the Flats. Arrives and stands away from everyone (loser) and bows to Sunny.

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

Naja Posts: N/A
:: :: ::

The air outside feels different and had she not had the cursed blindfold covering her eyes she would see just how different the land is. But she can feel it and she can smell it. The air is cleaner, more crisp, and not tainted with the foul smell of sickness that she came to accept. It is not what she expected, especially after listening to his berserkers fighting. There was supposed to be the smell of blood. Death. "Priest..." She murmurs to the stallion who guided her from the dungeon.

He is moving forward and she trails after him, her ears flicking in different directions as she hears voices. Most of them hold a reverence that she has only heard when the king and his heir were spoken to. "What's going on? Where are we?" She cannot hide the note of worry in her voice as she questions the Priest once more as she continues to trail behind him. "Everything is different." She whispers to the Priest, and she frowns. "I can feel it..."

"What is this? Who are you?"

Her head turns when she hears a stallion speak up, inviting the newcomers to the World's Edge. Newcomers? World's Edge? Where in god's name were they? Her shoulder bumps the Priest's flank and she stops. Her blindfolded face turns in the direction of the voice that she heard. "What is the World's Edge?" She asks. "Its not a place I know of..." Was this some kind of cruel twist of fate?


To the ends of the earth would you follow me?
There's a world that was meant for our eyes to see


Random Event Posts: 1,286
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
There is an instance of temporary relief from GLL, but none of the infected seem close enough.

Maren remains infected.

Rexanna has contracted GLL.

Kaj is cured of BFB!

Najya Posts: 90
Dragon's Throat Alchemist atk: 7 | def: 10 | dam: 4
Mare :: Equine :: 15.1 :: 7 (Tallsun) HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE
A'mal :: Plain White Dragon :: Shock Breath Kiki
Oh, the desert dreams of a river that will run down to the sea, like my heart longs for an ocean to wash down over me.
She found herself strangely attracted to the water - an oddity for the desert-mare.  The salt burns her nose and the taste is absolutely overwhelming, but she had a hard time pulling herself away from the coast.The sickness had yet to abate, if anything it had found new ways to consume her senses.  First it had been scent and taste, now it seemed that whatever this illness was had now spread and was leeching into her vision as well.  She found that her vision now appeared in vivid colors - she could see the fire in every living thing.  Creatures burned all colors of whites and reds and oranges and yellows while the lands around them faded into purples and blues and subtle greens.  There were moments of clarity where the true colors returned, but for the most part reality had been burned away by fever and tar. 

The flaxen mare was alone this day, armed only with the sword given to her by the goddess, tracing the coast for no reason other than impulse.  That was when the colors she had only just become accustomed to went haywire.  The world exploded into whites and reds and oranges and Najya slammed her eyes shut at the intrusion. When she opened them again, the scenery had returned to normal but pinpricks of heat speckled the horizon. 

It was enough to draw her attention from the sea.  So with curved ears pricked, she made her way over to the source of such an explosion of light and heat and what she saw provided the only explanation she needed. 

One figure burned brighter than the rest - a molten white, the purest light.  Even without her normal vision, Najya could identify him.

The Sun God. 

He burned in the presence of the others as only the Sun could.  The others were drawn to him just as she was - like mortal moths to his internal flame. 

She lingered on the outskirts of the gathering, as she had her own suspicions about what was happening.  Another new land.  From what she understood from her interactions with others in the bamboo forest, the situation with wolves had not been the first encounter with strangers from a strange land.  There were a few faces that she recognized when her vision flickered back to normal, but she did not approach, for just as quickly her vision was again again stripped from her.  The flaxen mare plunged the blade into the sands at her feet and cocked a back hoof, content to wait and enjoy the Sun God's presence for the time being. 
image credits || HTML by Reli

@Random Event

GLL - Najya's senses are mimicking a pit viper.  Super sensitive to smell.  Smells with her tongue.  Can see in infrared (overpowers her normal vision).

Please tag NAJYA in all replies. 
Force & magic are permitted, but please check before inflicting serious injury.
Thank you!
pixel base

Aisling the Fae Posts: 112
Absent Abyss atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Equine :: 13.1 :: 6 :: Birdsong HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE
Sorcha :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath Laine

To hold all the promise of blue-velvet dark and stars

Creideamh ar neamh! Not again, Gods be merciful!

The little faerie mare galloped as fast as her tiny legs could take her, cutting the reflective surface of the shallow water with her splashing. As soon as she had come across the unfamiliar landscape fear had gripped her little heart, for a new land must mean bloodshed was soon to follow, it had not already come to pass. She had come to late twice now, hearing the tale of the Bear God that had been slain in the Bloodfalls and come across the carnage of the Wolf in the Labyrinth. Both had been horrifying and the gentle-hearted girl could not help but wish that the Lords of the Sun and Earth would be more merciful if they found lands to take.

She had seen the flames erupt on the horizon and feared she might have once again come too late but as she neared she saw no battle had yet happened. There stood the sungod and some familiar faces of Helovians and yet more in strange colors and forms, but she saw no beast, not  stolen God. She moved quickly past the figures, sliding to a halt near the golden god. "Ah Lord...." Her words came out between heaving breaths as she struggled to recover from her dash. for a second she hung her head low, truing to take in enough air to her restricting lungs so she could speak. "Please fair Sun... let there be no bloodshed here! There must be other ways..." She gazed up at the Bright One imploringly with her watery grey eyes. Surely he would listen for he was light and light was good. Wasn't that right?

creideamh ar neamh - faith in heaven
ah ghrian - my sun
Mentions: @God of the Sun
Summary: Races in like a pony out of hell, and addresses Sunny

Image Texture
[now come the days of the dreamer and they are filled with wonder and light ]
:: permission given for use of magic and force :: please tag Aisling in all posts ::

Tiamat the Ocean's Light Posts: 360
Aurora Basin Lady atk: 8 | def: 10 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.2 :: 6 years HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
Nimue :: Common Orca Leviathan :: Boil Reli
like the ocean kissed the sky,
at the most beautiful place under the sun
After the battle at Green Labyrinth, the ocean mare had not wandered far from the Eastern territories. Once assured that Nox had been safe and well enough to recuperate from his wounds, and having thanked Ashamin generously for his bravery—even though she is sure she will never be able to repay him for saving her life—she had taken to wandering on her own for a short while. Violence is a harsh and terrible thing, unnecessary in its hatred and hazardous in its retribution. Having seen it quite literally tear people apart, twice now in each battle, Tiamat is struggling to keep her spirits up in spite of it all.
Surely there must be another way?
Caught up in the contemplations and struggles that wrangle within her chest, it takes a moment for the young mare to realize that she has stumbled into another place—another realm, perhaps. The beach is nothing short of ethereal in its beauty, glassy and clear; even the powerful push and pull of her father’s mighty waves have been calmed, stilled to a glossy sway. It feels so serene, so perfect. “What is this place,” she sighs breathlessly, Could this be heaven? All at once she feels as though she’s been lifted, ascended, to that place—with her parents, where nothing can go wrong.
However, the peace that begins to finally calm her frayed nerves is stretched and bent when figures emerge on the horizon—in the light, a gathering. Like the others. A flock, lambs, congregating with one another to be prodded and slaughtered, beaten and broken. Like the others. And they all do it so willingly.
Must it be so?
She almost turns away—almost snatches for herself a moment of selfishness, to run, to hide, to flee. But she cannot, not when she knows she might be needed, she could never abandon them. Pulling herself together and trying to harness the fear that buzzes inside of her, Tiamat wanders forward. She hesitates at the fringes of the gathering, white eyes wandering over the faces (some familiar, some friends) and her heart cries out for all of them. Taking a shuddering breath, she wanders deeper into their midst, steps slow until she catches sight of Ashamin. Her pace quickening to meet him, she settles at his side, pressing her lips to his shoulder (as though his company could calm her) and giving him a smile.
Tiamat doesn’t say anything, her throat too tight for words, her lion tail hovering over the pristine water as her eyes wander upwards—to the God. He is beautiful and majestic, so collected compared to the others, and as the moments pass by, Tiamat dares to let her hope rise. Perhaps this time it will be different. So calm, so peaceful, so composed—the mare bows to him, a silent prayer on her lips, a plea that violence will not have its way here.

notes; Wanders into the Flats to see the gathering. Noticing Ashamin she goes to stand by him, looks to the Sun God and bows, praying silently for peace.

image credits | @Ashamin
please tag Tia in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

Euphrates Posts: N/A
:: :: ::
There was great fury in the froth-wake of morning. A violent light crackled across the night with silent beckoning. It was time. 

And honestly, it had been time.

In fact, the world was overdue happiness, tranquility, the stark company of a shadow. All this time the world was bleached and tainted as faceted suns purged from every crevice. It was like walking on a diamond, this death – and Euphrates feared that he might not ever die.

But now there was rupture. A new light; one that was blessed and glimmering fainter than the rest, was born.

Euphrates cracked open his eggshell eyes at the moment the sky burst beautifully over the beach. The waves revered in their astonishment, and his body resembled a cacophony of rapture, a surface broken. Broken and splashing.

If he could just step into it, feel the presence of the colors dancing, radiating on the ripple caps of his skin. It would be heaven, he decided. It would be that final realization of death. The moment he’d been waiting for this entire time. The ravens would not last in white light, the sand could not ascend the atmosphere, and the memories would remain with his remains in eternal hell where they belonged. This goddamned moment would be the one.

But time still passed in oblique grains. The world was still whole, his perception and ache never dull in the wrought of his purely exhausted heart. The stillness in the air was only opposed by the flame on the horizon, flickering ever forward with every thrum of worsening anticipation. It did not change his desire to die. He had memories still living in him. Haunting him. Nothing could change that.

But something trickled out from the light. A golden river of the warmest glowing fluid ran from the sky and bloomed a fire-flower in the brine. Euphrates craned his gaze over the Flats, wondering if it was God.

Something in the back of his mind was quick to assume so. Quick to break an even sweat out over his calloused hide and thrust his heart into hammering away toward the finish line. Something in there wanted it so badly, but something else deep in his pupil reveled in the complexity of a fallen drop of immortality. And like the realization of a tsunami, Euphrates stood in the peril of his creator. Those last few strides of pulse fell stutteringly short of the line. Everything stopped.

Do I want this?

Of course you do, you fucking idiot.

But do I…not want it?

It was difficult to decide. 

He’d just gained perhaps the most solemnly beautiful experience, the most mystifying altercation of reality. How could you really top that? How could you really top your last memory if it were the face of the asshole that spit you here in the first place? How could you really top this ironic deathbed?

Or birthbed?

Whatever, it was just enough to convince him that this was truly his moment to end it all.

He weakly came to his hooves, sand and other sparkling brine particles clung to his rippling coat. Beneath the slurry that coated him, his colors conjured a swell of emotion, of heartbeat. With the last surge of real energy left within him, Euphrates hurled himself into a gallop. The messiest gait: a flood of uncertainty, reverence, and hatred hurtling into the light with floundered inelegance.

This is it, I’m dying.

Finally, I’m dying!

But he wasn’t. It would never be that easy for him.

He landed crippled in the heap of sunset. His body rocked in rippled arms before they grew slowly to silver stillness. He opened his eyes to find himself standing among few he had ever seen before. Evaneska, the girl he owed much of his life to, was present. And gradually as the surrounding dome of life refocused in his eyes, he understood with great sobriety that this was not death. 


His body peeled a babbling pattern of disgust; sharp, hooked waves furled in their wakes.

He had the urge to say he was sorry. And for what, he didn’t know, but sorry was the only word that ebbed within him. It channeled within him, stayed there for a while.

I’m sorry you didn’t die. I guess I’m sorry I wanted you to die.

He was only sorry because the others didn’t die too. It was selfish to even consider leaving the others, especially Evaneska, alone in life.

There were a few in this new place that promised refuge. But Euphrates did not hear them over the loud guilt that lapped gently at his unreachable shore. 

"I’m so sorry."


Aithniel the Inquisitor Posts: 169
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 15.0hh :: 4 Years HP: 75 | Buff: NOVICE
Zerachiel :: Royal Griffin :: Molten Dagger tamme
the world is kept alive only by heretics

Gaucho and the Sun God...

Feeling rather sorry for herself, she walked east, following the path of the rising sun. Darkness crept from her nostrils and wept from her eyes, sending the whole world in a spiral of black and white. The sores on her body only seemed to get worse, and she groaned audibly, dragging her cloven hooves one at a time across the sandy salt. The air was too clean, and the world was too beautiful, though whatever disease this was, her very vision was failing into monochrome. That made all of this much more bearable. Just barely.

There was a point when the landscape changed. She wasn't exactly sure when, but a thin layer of water rested beneath her hooves. It was smooth enough to be glass, reflecting perfectly the sky overhead. If not for the occasional rock, she would have no idea if she was flying, falling, swimming or any manner of right side up. It was beautiful, and it added to her misery. Aithniel frowned, trudging and splashing through this mirror water until she arrived at a gathering.

Her father was there, standing so proudly and handsomely. And here she was, ugly and spotty with a nasty cough. She wanted to die on the spot, hide behind her wings and turn invisible. Instead, she stiffened her spine and faced the world head on, killing her humiliation one suspicious look at a time. Aithniel should be proud of her fight, and she was... but this was uncharacteristically cruel.

Even Gaucho was there, wrapped in his flames of power and glory; he was more an agent of the Sun God than she was, and she sighed. Everything about him was perfect, and she was just a sickly child once more. Aithniel frowned, waiting. There was no point in approaching anyone or making herself known - not like this.

But burn down our home
I won't leave alive

Please tag me in everything!

Isopia the Mountain That Knows Posts: 780
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 6.5 | def: 10 | dam: 8.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 18hh :: 3 - is now aging slowly HP: 90 | Buff: NUMB
Hubris :: Royal Bronze Dragon :: Shock Breath & Frost Breath & Babel :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath Odd


Aith's dad

That's how the earthen girl thought of the God of the Sun. Already in her short life she had seen far too much of them - known their faults and their indiscretions. She doubted them, and held no fealty but that which she deemed appropriate. She knew that they were not mere mortals, and yet she could not muster the same sort of awe which she saw inspired by so many around her.

Aith's dad. That's who you are.

Objectively, she could see his appeal. He might have been the most beautiful of the Gods. The Moon was alluring the way a moonlight path was; you still felt a chill in your bones even as her beauty pulled you closer. But the Sun? He radiated warmth which permeated more than her skin. He was tall and strong, and appeared like chiseled sunlight. Blinking, she watched as molten fire dripped from his wings, extinguished in the salty water.

Still just her dad.

Blinking silently, she wondered who the mother was? She might have laughed to know it was Ampere.

Gliding on her black raven wings, Iso scanned the assembled crowd below. Her gaze was still a mashup of gradient colours - she could see heat in all things. Warm things were red, and cool things were blue. It had been disorienting at first, but now she seemed to be getting more of a hold on it. Without saying a word, the girl lowered her flight-path to land on Volterra's wither - careful to stay out of Verzes way. When she was in this form, personal boundaries meant little to her, for her raven-like body did not seem as susceptible to physical contact as her normal form did. It was as if only her mind inhabited this small body, rather than the parts of her that had a tendency to ... be distracted by physical pleasures.

Mentions: Sunny, Aith, Amp (Sort of) and Volt. Lands on Volterra's wither.

Has GLL. 

Image Credits

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

God of the Sun Posts: 198
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Hybrid :: 17 hh :: Ageless

The GOD of the SUN

Burn the whole world down

 The God eyed Destrier impassively, then turned his bright gaze to the Flats. "This land will be called the Halycon Flats, so named because they will forever stands as a place of peace and tranquility. Only when the rains come will this blissful atmosphere be lifted. And even then, only for a short time."

A warm smile was directed towards Gaucho - ever silent, before falling on Evaneska. "It is no mirage. My heat and light bled away the corruption of your Gods, and in doing so cleansed these lands. You are not dead - you are merely home." Glancing from those who had silently come, his golden gaze fell on Soren with a snort of annoyance. "I am no impostor. There is none in the world who could impersonate me."

The God's chiseled shoulders shrugged in response to Einarr's question, but his eyes appeared amused. "That is something you will have to discover for yourself, Einarr."

The God's horned-skull nods to those who bow or nod to him, and his golden-cast gaze hardens towards those who merely congregate. Unlike his siblings, he has not brought darkness with him upon returning; there is no demon or lesser deity nipping at his heels. He has brought safety and beauty, and even still, some have apparently decided that his presence is not worth acknowledging. Scavengers, he thinks with a snort.

"You're welcome." He replies to Persephone with a smile.

His golden eyes catch upon Ophelia as he arrives, and the Lord of light pauses for a moment. A smile widens his perfectly sculpted lips as he nods to her. He would speak with her ... but perhaps after the group has disassembled themselves.

"I am the God of the Sun, and this is Helovia. " He responds to Iscah's question. "The corruption and disease of your homeworld have not followed you here."

Upon Ampere's arrival, the God of the Sun once again paused and nodded to her. His mind immediately went to Aithniel, wondering where their child was. While he was sure that his second-flame would arrive, doubt cascaded through him. Surely she would be here to share in this moment? '

As Ilios offered a crazed greeting, the God frowned. Just what was it that was affecting everyone like this? He had noticed the black ooze, but thought that it was merely some bacteria going around. "Maren-" He responds with a smile, after nodding to Ilios. He sensed in both of them a darkness, a permeating sickness and once again frowned.

"I have returned Cera. Absolution shall be yours." He says softly, his voice almost melodic and somehow also nearly silent - as if spoken directly into Cera's mind. Yet his words seemed tangible. Looking to Kaj, the deity nods in response to his greeting.

The God's ears faltered backwards for a moment as Aisling rushed to his side. He did not appreciate her doubt and her urgency. Still, his regal composure did not slacked as he addressed her calmly. "Do you see any threats, Aisling? Do you believe me to be as hasty as my siblings? I have not brought evil here. Only safety. There shall be no bloodshed on this day."

Then she arrives - his blessed child. Any annoyance directed towards Aisling rushed away from him as the God moved towards his daughter. He noticed the same sickness that plagued the others had affected her as well, and this troubled him even more deeply. Her blood aided in healing - that she was still somehow susceptible spoke to the deep darkness of this disease. Stifling these thoughts, the God extended a wing towards her. "Aithniel. I am glad to see you." He whispered, his words meant for her and her alone.


Isopia the Mountain That Knows Posts: 780
Dragon's Throat Apostle atk: 6.5 | def: 10 | dam: 8.0
Mare :: Tribrid :: 18hh :: 3 - is now aging slowly HP: 90 | Buff: NUMB
Hubris :: Royal Bronze Dragon :: Shock Breath & Frost Breath & Babel :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath Odd


Well, that was anticlimactic.

Iso watched with large golden eyes (albiet ones bordered by black ooze), as the Sun God addressed some individuals, glared at others, and ignored others. However she was especially aware of how he seemed to soften towards two mares in particular: one she had seen a number of times now. The crimson-tipped pale unicorn seemed to be held in fairly high regard by everyone. The girl only had a vague sense of who she was. The other female the God doted on she did know - or at least, knew as well as she knew anyone else.


She wanted how the God moved to see her in a way which was unique to her. He seemed genuinely caring - and, as odd as it might seem - appeared even warmer in his interaction with her ashen cousin. The earthen demi-child clicked her beak together as she impassively watched the embrace. She was neither jealous nor envious, but her interest was certainly peaked.

Clicking her beak once again, the girl rose off of Volterra's withers - leaving just as quickly as she arrived - with neither a hello or a goodbye. 

If there wasn't going to be any epic battle for the hearts and minds of those who followed the God through the portal, then Iso saw no real reason for her to remain. She certainly didn't feel like chatting with anyone (as evidence by having arrived in her raven form). Besides, there was an entire landscape bathed in warm hues for her to investigate. Was this area truly some sort of bubble, as it first appeared? If not, by what trick of physics caused such an illusion?

Image Credits

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

Mesec the Nightwind Posts: 476
World's Edge Glazier atk: 5.5 | def: 9 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Tribrid :: 16.3hh :: 7 years old HP: 76 | Buff: NOVICE
Lucius :: Royal Zephyr :: Roc & Lyra :: Common Kitsune :: Dreams Sarah

He wasn’t following her, not really. Mesec just… wanted to make sure Najya was safe. The events that had transpired may have been out of his control but that did not mean that he was powerless to help if he could. Besides, she was sick - it would be irresponsible of him to let his friend wander Helovia without checking in on her now and then. Telling himself that he was on patrol, which he actually did need to perform, the demi-god had taken to the skies and occasionally circled around to check on the chocolate mare. Lucius, having decided to forgive his bonded, soared alongside on matching silver-lined wings and kept sharp eyes on the changing landscape below even when Mesec could not see clearly. 

She found her way to another new land and in turn so had he, getting a gorgeous aerial view of the water-covered plain that the group was standing on. The bamboo maze that he had found his mother in had been beautiful too, but this place seemed to be born of light. And no wonder, considering who was hosting the group down below.

Gathering the shadows to him, with one beat of his wings he was in the air and with the next he was on the ground, a soft splash and the swirl of black mist around him dissipating as he came to stand beside Najya. A small smile served as his greeting to her, refraining from reaching out to greet her with a touch of his muzzle as he might normally do. Whatever was going on after the Labyrinth, it had infected a lot of those that were present and it would not help matters for him to become infected either.

Lucius continued to circle overhead, feeling more comfortable to stay there and keep an eye on the situation, his shadow occasionally falling across the group below. Around them, others stood - greeting each other and the god or just waiting. For what? Another fight? For his part, silver eyes lingered on many forms in the crowd - his friends - but finally on the patron of the land he hoped to continue to call home. With grace, the moon’s son dipped his head and uttered a polite “Sir.” by way of greeting, displaying respect to his… uncle? Was that even accurate? The father of Aithniel, nonetheless. 

Mesec & Lucius

original bird shape by lukeroberts at deviantart

teleports in to stand beside Najya, mentions her and Sunny (mostly)
please tag Mesec in replies
non-life threatening force is allowed at all times

Ultima Posts: 57
Mare :: Pegasus :: 16.3hh :: 4
Snapdragon :: Turkish Andora Cat :: None Kairi
She came through the door with a pop of bright light and, upon seeing the people scattered like pebbles far, far beneath her feet, nearly bit her tongue off. Don’t scream! Don’t scream, don’t flail your legs, don’t— Just— Breathe. Breathe. Breathe, she coached hysterically, just breathe, breathe, breathe breathe breathe keep your wings flat and cup the wind, don’t make any sudden movements, pretend you aren’t hurtling like a meteorite to your death and just float down, like a songbird—

Truthfully she’d expected another horrific crash, but Ultima, in the grasp of an adrenaline trance, kept her nerves steeled. The ground hurtled up towards her and she stretched her legs out to meet it, body tight with concentration; there was a splash as her feet crashed through the glassy water and, bouncing forward a yard or two with leftover momentum, she splayed her wings and came to a tidy halt at the very edge of the congregation. 

For several moments she could scarcely believe what had just happened. By all rights she should have been livid; aside from the crocodile’s hungry stare, the only reason she’d followed Whoever That Was into the portal was because she thought it’d take her back home. It had opened up just where she’d come out, she was sure of it, it couldn’t have been a coincidence— But the sensation of the wind in her face, the sight of the brilliant earth spread out before her— In all her life she had only ever heard stories of what flying was like, and after so many years of, “I cannot,” her brain found itself overwhelmed by the quiet proclamation of, “I can, I just did!” 

And then a voice, warm, half-honeyed, and all thought of flying was wiped from her mind like a slate. 

Even without being told, she knew that the figure at the front of the crowd was holy. His voice reverberated in her ears not unlike the Wild God’s had, a pleasant hum that stole the wear from her bones and her bruises, lit a little fire in her tired step. He might know where she was. He might know how to get back to the Wood. “Pardon,” she said absentmindedly, jostling for a better vantage point of this Bright God. ‘Helovia,’ she heard him say, and the word, unknown to her, rustled through the throng like a wave. Then: ‘ … My heat and light bled way the corruption of your Gods, and in doing so cleansed these lands.

Her heart screamed like a kettle.

“All of them?” The little fire the Bright God had started winked out in a puff of smoke, and something had grabbed hold of her throat and was squeezing, squeezing. Was she breathing? Did she care? Pushing through the crowd now, pile-driving, the sweaty bodies, the unfamiliar smells of so many strangers, she could only think, could only ask again, her voice so small and reedy against the group’s collective drone, “All of them?” Damn the crocodile to Waking and all the other idols, too, but not hers— “Please,” Not hers“Have you—” 

Couldn’t continue. She could only stare, waiting, trembling.
command me to be well.

Mentioned: (vaguely) Boyo, Sunny-G
please tag ultima in all posts!
force/magic a-ok, shy of killing/maiming her!

Ampere The Mother of Companions Posts: 719
Dragon's Throat Sultana atk: 9 | def: 11 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14 hh :: 6 years HP: 73 | Buff: DANCE
Kygo :: Green Cheek Conure :: None Blu

More came, slowly but surely drawn to the glory of the sun. When he met her eye, she dipped her head deeply, having only the greatest respect for the lord of day. Every once in a while her gaze would dance away from the figure of her god though, his brilliance too great to behold directly for long, and there she'd nonchalantly survey the growing tide of horses. She caught sight of that mare again, and startled faintly when Mesec appeared directly beside her. Despite herself, Ampere's jaw clenched tight with hate, and she balefully jerked her head away from the sight of them.

In doing so,

She continued to stand alone.

Thankfully the Sun spoke up, giving something for Ampere to focus on. His words were the sort of confidence she was accustomed to, and proud to know. Though, she did doubt him nearly as soon as he'd said it, but then just as quickly burned with shame for such a feeling. He was the magnificent after all, and his battle knowledge far exceeded her own. She had been drawn here, like most of the horses she supposed, in preparation for another fight, ready to defend their home and their god, but it seemed there wasn't a need. It left her feeling empty. She had hoped this fight would re-invigorate her purpose with the Throat, if not to her then to them. She'd hoped the fight would help her burn away whatever ire remained clutched in her chest after the meeting, ire she didn't want to direct towards her herdmates but did nonetheless. She had hoped that this fight would exhaust her, all of them, and in doing so unite them again. Instead, she was left with nothing but an outside glow from the sun, a warmth that seemed unable to brush over the cold storm she carried inside.

Frowning, Ampere glanced around, watching some horses begin to disperse already. What am I to do? she wondered, her eyes caught by Aithniel as the Sun moved towards her. His touch was sincere as his wing brushed his daughter. Or was it, their daughter, she wondered once again, and though she had no further evidence or truth of it other than a whale's words Ampere felt crushed to watch a family she wasn't a part of.

She continued to stand alone.

In the wilds she had started alone, but in the Throat - now - it seemed she had steadily alienated herself. Every time a new bond forged linking souls that never should have been, she lost another friend, another piece of her family. Eventually, maybe even now, she'd finally run out of hands to lose her grip on. She was just clutching at dust and wind now, chasing sunlight that always faded.

Gently she closed her eyes, black tar slipping from the corners like obsidian tears while a cough racked her frame. Morose, she slipped away from the group, casting herself into the new landscape int he hopes she might glean some faith from the Sun's new lands when she couldn't find any in his old. Either way, she didn't feel ready to go home, not yet.


Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.

Erthë Posts: 440
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14,2 hh :: 3 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE

The crowd swelled. What was it about the presence of a god that drew them all in, like planets attracted by the gravity of a sun? Even one such as her, young and ignorant and already enamored by a very different kind of power, could not help but to relax and become at ease in the presence of this lord. He was not her god, not her light to rest in, and the heat from his flame was much too intense for a winter child like her. But at least she could admire him from afar, right? He probably wasn't all that different from his siblings even though he claimed to be, and a small part of her wanted to sniff and turn tail because it wasn't the lady Moon, but nevertheless his announcement that nothing was going to happen filled the child with such relief.

A more experienced soldier would likely have mistrusted such confidence. Anyone with more wisdom ought to have been prepared for the unexpected, accounted for the presence of chaos and remained alert. But Erthë was only a child and she wanted to believe this radiant, beautiful god when he said that no battles would disturb the tranquil peace of the new land. Not until the announcement let her muscles relax did she realize how tense she had been, how fretful and unenthusiastic. Already Erthë had come to realize that she disliked war, and how soothing was it not to realize she didn't have to be part of it again!

"Thank you" she whispered softly, a soft breath of relief addressed to the lord of flame. For being so thoughtful, for not bringing death and darkness unto this beautiful place, for not calling her name and thus force her to take sides. But mostly for not making her witness another defiling of fallen foes - she didn't know if she could stand that. Not from him.  

For some time she simply hovered there on the outskirts of the gathering and watched the radiant god mingle with the mortals. But as he seemed to withdraw to speak with a pretty red-and-white mare the filly sighed and smiled, and turned to continue her exploration of this marvelous place.  

e r t h ë
in every lost soul the bones of a miracle
Image Credit

~| Use of magic and violence is always permitted |~
~| Please only tag in opening posts |~

Torleik the Bloodskald Posts: 354
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 11 HP: 66.5 | Buff: SWIFT
Irelyn :: Plain Griffin :: Molten Dagger RedGod

He was late, but he'd showed. Speaking to Ulrik had taken some time, and his cousin had somehow managed to figure out how to cleanse him of the disgusting boils he'd contracted after fighting the bear god. That it was spark magic seemed almost humorously obvious to Torleik now, as he held back on the very fringes of the crowd, looking at the Sun God. Did the deity even know he was there? Did he pay attention enough to feel the weary, fractured soul that cautiously hung back, all too afraid of what might happen here? 

The Moon Goddess was his; the Sun God was hers. And the Sun God had very clearly spurned him long ago, thrust away the Bloodskald's honest admiration for such a powerful being. The thought still stung, not from humiliation but from the wonder at why his truthful awe, a pure form of worship, had not been good enough for this fiery being. Torleik often considered it was something flawed within himself that the God of Flame and Light had found lacking - or was this deity simply so self-absorbed, so used to being praised that the simple and murmured words of a warrior-poet were as stepping in shit? 

Ophelia managed to garner his favor, somehow. But of course, why wouldn't she? She was perfect in ways the Sun God would appreciate. The King of the World's Edge wondered if their fundamental differences would be their schism; if Moon and Sun could ever properly coexist with one another. 

'Stop! You both love,' Irelyn snapped at him through their bond, her simple understanding of the situation touching in its pure clarity. 

'My father loved my mother, and he still hurt her. I was still a bastard,' came his tired reply as his eyes rested on the apparently dispersing crowd - his woman (was she really his at all?) - and then the god himself, disbanding everyone by stating there would be no battle. Seemed he'd shown up late for nothing, then, as he wanted nothing from this god; not out of spite, but out of assumption he held no favor with the divine being and therefore would receive nothing in supplication. 

So he lingered, held back, never really having arrived, if only to watch which direction Ophelia would depart that his heavy hooves might carry him eventually to wherever she finally stopped.  

[Image: 531c0b471919e]

No man is an island.
Pixel by: Tamme :D

Please tag me in all posts! Thank you!

Random Event Posts: 1,286
Helovian Ancient
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Torleik is cured of BFB!

I just needed your confirmation Ulrik's magic hit Torleik, so this post works for that.

Volterra the Indomitable Posts: 785
Dragon's Throat Sultan atk: 8.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 8.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17'2hh :: 3 HP: 80 | Buff: SENSE
Vérzés :: Common Red Dragon :: Frost Breath & Toxic Breath & Vadir :: Royal Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Shock Breath Snow


There's the sudden sensation of claws on his withers, claws that possess a different texture to his dragon's. His sensitive ears hear the ruffling of feathers, and there's a grin ready and primed on his face as he turns to greet the raven on his back. "Kis hollo." To the surrounding horses, it probably looks like he's bonded to dragon and bird alike - they wouldn't think for a moment that he has a demi-god on his back. He huffs air at her in greeting, whilst his dragon - after getting over the initial shock of finding his favourite perch co-inhabited by a raven - gently tries to prod the bird with a clawed finger, as though puzzled by its existence. "Earth-filly is bird?" Transformation magic is a foreign notion to the red, after all.

The fight that the mammoth yearling is expecting does not materalise. How disappointing. Seeming to mirror his sentiments, Isopia takes to the heavens; Volterra watches her go, before returning his gaze to the crowd. Hmmph. No bestial God for him to slaughter? No more pieces of the bastard to wear as trophies? Yes, he is rather shallow, and enjoys these God battles that have been sprouting up everywhere - he is unashamed of this, or what the Sun God may think of him for it.

Still, the man is still a God, and the monolithic colt offers him the tiniest hint of a nod before turning away. He does not depart far, just in case some foul diseased beast should come bursting through the seams of the Rift, ready to be destroyed then hand out an illness as a final cruel courtesy. His tail swings against his hard flanks as he moves a short distance away, ready to leave should nothing interesting happen, but on hand to dive right back in if something interesting does happen.

[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far  ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]

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