the Rift

[OPEN] gnashing of the teeth [HERD QUEST]

Beloved Posts: 121
Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 8.5 | def: 10 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.3 :: Appears 6 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Orphan :: Ragdoll Cat :: None Bunnie

The night had fled to the inky corners of the valley, so that the emerald of the grass was deep, and almost black, but illuminated along its very edges by the faintest rays of light, piercing into the indigo belly of the night mother.  Tracing through the quieted boughs of the evergreen forest to the west of the realm, she stalks and weaves, her giggles silenced for the hunt.
She had been told of the wolves, of course, and the rest of those things she was meant to do; but of all the deeds she was bid to commit, of all the tasks she had yet been sent, none had filled her with such ambition as this.  Surely, the young Lord's insistence that she and the others of the sword, and the shield, fulfill the God's request needed little more than to be asked.  Killing was, after all, one of Beloved's favorite things to do.
Like a wraith, a phantom, she is silent in all the ways she is usually capricious and babbling, no longer a river but the dead stillness of a dried bed, like those who have come to hunt, too; her eyes, narrowed, pin upon each movement of leaf and twig, her hooves stopping with poised perfection with each promise of prey.  All night, she has searched, even when others slept or had dallied in joining the group which watched; all night, her eyes have fastened themselves upon the scurrying of creatures too small for wolves.
Behold, though, as she flits her lurid gaze upon the shadow, there, there!  She is sure the others see it too, though she does not look to gesture or know for certain.  A doe, wounded, blood streaming down her flank, dark, but that which is dripping over the dry, and even in the dreamy light of the dawn flies hum about the increasingly fetid gouges, a semicircle, an elongated ring; teeth, fangs, wolves, she thinks, her grin splitting wide, her white teeth revealed.  A strand of saliva slips from the corner of that weird expression, and she bundles her body together, and leaps, horn poised for the death of the wounded prey…
[ OOC:  Operation Deer Doom has commenced, and will be followed by Operation Feed the Wolf Pups Stuff That Is Not Vomit.  Rikyn shall be here after this weekend probably, maybe tomorrow! The deer has a festering bite wound to her flank and is greatly slowed, and is currently laying in a bed of pine needles next to a tree, in a small clearing.  Like all the herd quests, all are welcome! ]

die like God, on the cover of time
Image Credit
Tag Beloved, please!

Feel free to attack her with physical or magical violence at your own risk. ;D

Weaver Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Corporal atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: 3 years HP: 61 | Buff: Novice
Raven :: Australian Raven :: Terrorize Kyra
Of course she joins the hunt. Where else would she want to be? Her new black cape lines her back, hiding some of the white patches in darkness, so she blends easily in the shadows. Her amber eyes stand out though, strange beacons in the pre-dawn light. Beloved is easier to find, a pale ghost that slinks through trees. The prey they find is easy though, boring really. The deer is already dying, and they could just and here and wait, making sure no one else took their prize before it died on it’s own. Weaver is already underwhelmed, though of course, they would have to feed the wolves the meat. That would be an entirely different problem, and one that would at least be entertaining.

For now, she settles in to watch the deer, blocking another path it could take should the thing have any energy to flee. She can see Beloved across some distance, preparing to attack. Weaver figures Beloved won’t need much help in this, and she won’t take the kill from her pale friend. Instead, Weaver slips closer, keeping an eye on the deer and their surroundings. She’ll provide any backup needed, but otherwise, she’ll leave the killing to Beloved.

- weaver -


Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by AmoretteRose

Öde Posts: 145
Aurora Basin Disciple atk: 5 | def: 10 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17 hh :: 4.5 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE

Öde shrugged his wolf's pelt cloak over his withers further, huddling against a breeze that cut across the night. Like Weaver, this task interested him the most, as it seemed to promise the most thrill, the most risk, and where Öde was sure his talents would be best put to use (even if it hurt like hell). Although he was not one to shy away from bloodshed and even needless destruction, he was not one that craved the blood of a kill. What Öde thirsted for was the sensation of overpowering something, or forcing it beneath you, of making it submit to your prowess. One could argue death was an ultimate form of submission, but Öde much rather liked the crippling look of defeat in a foe in the battlefield, a look they'd carry with them for seasons after, both in their eyes and on their pelt, and so he could continue to drink for them.

There was of course the bedroom as well, but Öde's motives were a bit too brutal for the taste of most mares, and so it was he masturbated more often than not.

Maybe he would have joined Beloved then if she hunted anything besides an already weakened deer. She was a smart predator, because even hunters can't be careless lest they be injured and simultaneously humiliated by their own prey. Öde was a bit more reckless though; immortality tended to do that, and balls. So instead he shifted his weight in the brush, watching with a wide yawn and waiting for the part with teeth. If the deer ran towards him somehow his horn would prove a nice deterrent.

Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, including death - no decapitating.
Be aware active magic doesn't work in his vicinity due to his magic!

62.5/62.5 HP
Helovia Hard Mode

NPC Posts: 298
User-based Random Event
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
A bugle fills the air as soon as the white unicorn lunges forward for the strike, followed by the clamorous sound of hooves, and breaking brush. Careening through the foliage is a tall, powerful buck, clearly intent on protecting his female, despite the fact that she is already dying from the earlier, narrowly escaped wolf attack. He too wears marks from this scuffle with the native hounds of the north; two bites on his face have congealed blood on swollen puncture wounds, and his shoulder has a slight wound, as well, but he is definitely better for wear than the dying doe he defends for the second time today.

He drives into Beloved’s side with his antlers dropped, his powerful neck braced for the impact, his large figure throwing every ounce of strength he has into baring the more cunning creature down. The wounded doe staggers to her hooves, and attempts to flee, lamely struggling towards the surrounding brush, while her young, brash mate attempts to defend her last moments of life.

Had the buck noticed the other two in the nearby vicinity, he may have just let her die; however, naive and rife with anxiety from the events of the morning, the three year old male believes himself plenty strong enough to handle one small unicorn on his own.

[ A buck arrives to defend his female, and slams his antlers into the attacking Beloved! Will you move to kill the buck or follow the already dying doe? ]

gnashing of the teeth
Image Credit

Beloved Posts: 121
Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 8.5 | def: 10 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.3 :: Appears 6 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Orphan :: Ragdoll Cat :: None Bunnie
The wicked one has little enough time to twist her head to look upon her attacker before he is upon her. Suddenly thrust aside, nearly capsizing as the buck at hoped, she shrilly cries out her rage into his face, spittle flying from her pale lips, wildly stabbing in the direction of the deer with her horn. Fear and rage coalesce into an erratic series of gestures, in which Beloved both attempts to hold her figure upright, as well as return at least a warding set of blows to the air between herself and the attacking deer.

"Fool!" her child’s voice, warped and perverse, shouts with contempt, "she is all but dead, and now, so are you!"

Throwing herself forward as soon as she has the opportunity, she attempts to bolt alongside the deer, to his haunches. Wincing and making a small yelp of pain at the sudden complaints of her ribs to the bending of her pivot about to face his hindquarters with her horn, the white witch drives forward with a moan (which ends in giggles) of physical suffering, and desire for blood in recompense.

[ OOC: Beloved attacks the buck. I also seem to have overestimated my Rikyn time this month. Might still make it this round but maybe not. shrugs ]
die like God, on the cover of time
Image Credit
Tag Beloved, please!

Feel free to attack her with physical or magical violence at your own risk. ;D

Imogen Posts: 24
Aurora Basin Thief atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.3 :: 5 years HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE
She watches them from above.

Her beady eyes are narrowed and as sharp as ice, black-rimmed ears twitching among her thick mane to catch the cries and howls of the hunt. While Imogen is not exactly opposed to violence, she is often far too preened and dignified to resort to such a bloody mess—if one is as prepared and as calculating as she, then they wouldn’t have to get much dirt on their hands. She is a queen among the little warmongers and musketeers of this land.

Of course, tonight is different.

The pegasus doesn’t try to smother the wicked sneer that coils across her lips with the white witch’s cry of anger. She is almost tempted to wait and watch how the demon’s little mistress handles herself against the power of a young buck, but Imogen’s sights are set on different prey.

Tilting the weight of her body and riding the mountain’s cold currents, the smoky vixen follows the bloody trail of the wounded doe. Unsurprisingly, the injured deer doesn’t move fast with her festering wounds, so the huntress above lies in wait, ready to pounce once the trees give way to a small clearing. No sooner does the doe hobble into the little meadow does Imogen fold her wings against her sides, and dives towards her quarry, golden hooves bared to free the animal of her suffering.

notes; Sorry it's terrible but she's here!
(just like animals)

art by Blu!
please tag Imogen in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.

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