the Rift


Wessex Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Haruspex atk: 5.0 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.3 hh :: 3 HP: 68 | Buff: NOVICE
for there are many ways to kill a man they say
Wessex will not be a spoil-sport. The Spirit of the Festival, a celebration of the Basin, is, well, rather infectious. Even brooding Erebos and sour-mouthed Rikyn seem to be enjoying themselves, and The Corporal feels free to mingle as she chooses, wandering amidst the crowds with one eye on the lookout for those who may have had a liiiiiiiiiittle too much to drink, or those who have more nefarious intentions. Thus far, everything seems to be calm and quiet, and she can’t help but cast a wandering eye on several women, letting her orange-yellow gaze rove with a veiled appreciation for their beautiful figures. But, like, not in a creepy way; more in the way that one appreciates a flower in the midst of a meadow, or a beautiful sunset, or the subtle twinkle of a cloudless sky in the depths of night. She admires their natural beauty, she does not leer at them.

When the mottled and horned mare grows tired of watching and never doing, she turns and looks towards the sun, judging it to be about time to set up the games. She finds her fellow soldier, Beloved, and then asks the woman to gather Erebos as well, and then bring them to the open area marked by torches. A frown creases her lips, though, when she realizes they are not yet lit, and she needs someone with some fire or electrical powers to help out. Oh well, it is only an hour to sunset, and for now, enough light remains.

Grabbing a sack of stones and woven vine rings, Wessex hauls them over to ‘her’ area, dumping the contents of the bags on the ground. Neatly, she nudges the rings into piles of four, and then takes the stones in her mouth and places them at increasing distances. Finally, she draws three lines, each about five feet from apart, and indicates where Erebos and Beloved should stand when they arrive. Before taking her own place behind a line, Wessex inhales deeply and bellows across the cleared area towards the Festival floor, “The Games are open!”

Hopefully someone will hear her. Someone who finds amusement in tossing rings onto horns and twitchy tails.

I am Iron and I Forge Myself

Ok, Im not entirely sure how to run this, but STEP RIGHT UP and try your luck with RING TOSS! There are four stones at increasing distances to denote tossing level of difficulty, and you must make front one place to move to the next. Hardest level involves tails!  But don't worry, Wessex will explain all this once we have some interest. Foals and adults welcome!
-- please tag in all posts! --
-- magic and force allowed, no death or permanent damage --

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


Beloved was adept at them, but not such as these; quirking a brow at the summons and subsequent request of Wessex, the giggling one does as she is told, for now. Returning, babbling with laughter as always, hopefully with the General in tow, the malevolent maiden takes her place towards the hinds of her fellow corporal, who gestures to the ground, where lines have been gouged. So, there Beloved’s eyes meander, and fall upon these marks.

Angling towards this third line, then, the mare stands where she believes to be a proper location. By the time the Corporal calls out into the vale that the games have started, the pale witch is quite prepared for whatever will come, having not been told the details of the planned event (probably all for the good, or she’d not be here). Her sculpted head tilts on a graceful neck, and her quivering eyes slip across each face that pulls away from the gathering throngs about the lakeshore as it arrives. Otherwise, however, she is silent and still, even her giggles more sparing than usual, some sense of foreboding building within her breast the longer she waits…

[ OOC: Yay everyone let's throw things at her face! :D ]

you've lost your demon.
Tag Beloved, please!

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

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
Take just what I came for

It was difficult to contain his amusement.
The prince had been made for mischief, for entertainment, for diversions, but hadn’t prevailed in the sense of those sojourns in quite a lengthy while; partly due to duties strung from border patrols and spars, brooding, and any other distractions he could segment and slice. His rituals had been combined into task forces and improving his warrior capabilities (ripping, ensnaring, tearing limbs from limbs), but not on laughter, on merriment, on particles that he’d once grown up on.
So when the festival opportunity came up for games, he was only too happy to oblige. He and Orsino, the latter of whom was not enticed by anything remotely jovial, bounded their way to the designated clearing, stopping short of their indicated line, smiling, grinning from ear to ear like the perfected, Cheshire nobility, a cat who’d clearly already eaten the canary. His gaze stopped briefly on Wessex, proclaiming his eagerness, his fervency, with a simple nod, and then the regal eyes segmented on Beloved – and then he seemed incapable of holding back his snort, his guffaw, because it rang on a softened chuckle. She had no idea what was coming, and the notion of children waltzing up in front of her or throwing things on her horn made the mental image impossible to ignore. Orsino just rolled his eyes, his own features set into a forbearing, nonchalant veneer.
Erebos turned quickly away from Beloved’s own manic giggles, attempting to suppress the laughter, but his shoulders were quivering and shaking no matter where his gaze rested.

image credits

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
Approaching the ring toss with a wary eye, I can’t help but wonder if my blade brother had gone mad himself, when I see one of the “targets” which Wessex has chosen for the event. While there is something to be said about tier teamwork in the combination of Basin muscle lined up to have hand made hoops tossed at their faces, there is also a definite lack of concern given to the fact that one of their line won’t stop giggling.

Glad I seem to be the first to arrive, I do what any good Lord would do; I take the loop on the ground in front of the shortest distance, and brace myself when the time arises to toss the loop at old giggle fits herself. Wondering if it will be as explosive as I both hope and hope doesn’t happen (its hard being responsible, guys) I push those thoughts aside as I focus on the target in front of me.

With a casual toss of the ring, having never done anything like this before, I certainly hope that I’m decent at it, not liking the idea of being a total boob in front of everyone I know.

in every heart a hole
Image Credit

Wishlist - Plots

Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Maude Posts: 140
World's Edge Filly
Filly :: Unicorn :: 15.3 :: Yearling

With so many things to do, the girl left the song-laden atmosphere of the main gathering to peruse the various attractions alongside the lake, before the sun began to truly descend behind the mountains, and night flooded the vale with shadow. Most interested in the games, the young lady with ivy entwined in her thickly braided mane and tail trots towards the attraction which seems the most interesting to her.

Lining up behind the others already here, she awaits her turn, casually looking about at the other nearby events. That wolf game over there looked fun, too, she thinks, before her attentions are gathered by the many-horned, deep voiced woman seemingly running this event. Making her way over towards the waiting rings and lines quickly, wary of upsetting such a tough looking woman, the filly smiles sweetly at the mare, and she takes her position, after picking up the ring waiting at her hooves.

Sweeping her eyes over the line up, she can’t help but feel a cold fear rise in her belly at the sight of the white mare, as she looks just like one of those strangers her daddy had always warned her so much about. The handsomely smiling blue roan stallion, however, makes her romantic heart do a small pitter patter, because he was certainly a Knight to defeat such a witch as the pale stranger.

Tossing her hoop at the first target with what she hopes to be a precision throw, the girl looks at Wessex after she’s done with an eager smile.

How was that?” she asks with perked ears and a good measure of cheer (even if she'd sucked), sure that the person running the event would be the best judge of her efforts.

& I know that God exists
’cause I’m holding her in my arms
Art by neverrmind @ DA
Hold onto this lullaby, even when the music's gone.

Amaris Posts: 299
World's Edge Philosopher atk: 5.5 | def: 8 | dam: 6.5
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16h :: 4 years HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE
Dramyrth :: Gold Dragon :: Fire Breath & Frost Breath Whit
I want to try everything.


Why not?

You didn't even want to come.

I know, but now that we're here I may as well make the most of it.

And 'trying everything' will make most of it?

The final conclusion is delivered with conviction. The pair had wandered between each stand, so far mostly just avoiding the designated 'dance floor' - it seemed to be attracting a crowd, and the dragonmare didn't like crowds containing more unknown people than known. She knew that the only way to know more people was to meet them, but by the same token, she also knew that she wasn't feeling socially 'up' to meeting too many new faces at such an event.

So she wandered, giving each stand her attention, watching, listening, enjoying the jovial atmosphere, containing her awe of the sparked attendance of the God of Time and Spark, having her mental discussions with Dramyrth (who went from stand to stand with her, rarely leaving his spot atop her withers all the while).

She was pleased that she recognised some of them, at least, please that not all were strangers in this cold, northern clime, pleased that perhaps her appearance would not cause as much upset as it might have had she been an Outcast wandering in, without a home, without a purpose, without any allies or friends to call her own. Amaris had been unwittingly networking as she worked diligently to ever improve her herd, and it meant that she felt slightly more comfortable in this intensely social situation than she otherwise would have.

The 'ring toss' was a curious event, one that she could not help but associate with the Basin's former claims to racism and unicorn-only membership. But then, surely if they were supremacists, they would not be willing to allow all their guests to throw woven rings at their various horned body parts? I need to let go of the past and focus on the present, the dragonmare scolded herself, even before Dramyrth could say anything, aiming to do just that, and enjoy herself all the while.

She watched Rikyn (the Lord of the Basin, apparently) take his turn, and then Maude, and with a playful wink to the yearling nurse, she followed suit, collecting a hoop and tossing it at the designated target, before moving aside to allow the next participant to take part in the game.
Daniel Schiersner @ flickr & larfsalot @ deviantart
No need to mirror my post length - I have a horrible case of the rambly writer syndrome!
I like being tagged!
You are always welcome to 'try' and use force/magic on Amaris, but similar to spar posts, leave it to me to decide how the damage is taken please~

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