lay me gently in the cold dark earth Dawn has not yet broken over the eastern sea, but Errant’s call is loud as it echoes through the cold fall air. He means to gather them together, for the Brothers to decide what will become of their kingdom. Mountain is gone, at least for the time it will take him to discover that Errant has teleported from the Jungle to the Tundra, and the time it will then take him to run from southern Beqanna to its northern tip. “The Amazons have taken our king,” He tells them when they have assembled. “But I’d prefer to think of it as a favor to the Kingdom.” He seeks out Nihlus, Hurricane, and Simeon among those gathered – these three have the full story, and Errant has no qualms with sharing it himself if the rest of the Brotherhood is curious. “Now is the time to decide,” the black stallion reminds them, his grey eyes sharp as he looks from one face to the other. He has not chosen to stand on the knoll from which the king traditionally addresses the kingdom, and his reason is twofold. He is not yet the king, though the tone of their previous meeting has made it clear he might be the only willing option, and he has seen what good became of Mountain treating them as less than. Errant had not ruled that way his first go round (he hopes), and he has decided he will continue that. “Do we want Mountain to lead us to ruin, or shall we choose ourselves a new king?” Errant waits, waits to see the reactions, and then adds his final words. “I’ve said before I am willing to rule if you all will have me. Are there others here willing to step up as well?” There had not been before, and while any one of them might make as decent a king as Errant, the black stallion does has one advantage. He’s not been here the longest – Brennen will always have them all beat – and he is not the best diplomat. But he is strong, and a fighter, and his magic can protect Beqanna in the coming turmoil. i'll crawl home to her |
Assailant -- Year 226
"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
i struggled to find any truth in your lies - EVERYONE
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04-17-2015, 07:51 AM
04-17-2015, 11:47 AM
04-17-2015, 09:38 PM
the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love
great clouds rolling over the hills and if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing's changed at all? It is as if the world – or at least, the Tundra – has been holding its breath as it waits for something to happen. Brennen can feel the change in the air in the uncertainty, the way his skin crawls uncomfortably when he thinks of the unsettled business the Tundra Brothers have with their poor and mad King. Perhaps some would dismiss his thoughts as superstition and nonsense, but he has lived too long and seen too much to dismiss much of anything anymore. So when Errant calls, he is ready. From his perch in the mountains – like many of the other Brothers he has a favorite cave in which to take temporary shelter from the elements – he flings himself into the empty air of the sky and wings his way across the Tundra to land at the gathering, flicking a serene glance over each face to take stock of who has come before settling in to listen. He can’t help but laugh at the black stallion’s opening statement, a sound of genuine mirth that might have sounded ridiculous in this somber gathering had it come from anyone else. Somehow it simply sounds normal, coming from Brennen. Of course it was the Amazons responsible for Mountain’s absence… and of course it was Scorch, in some way or form. “Ah, the Amazons,” he responds with a last chuckle and a quick shake of his head. “Always needful of being contrary, but yet somehow still quite the useful friends to have. Still, I wish them the joy of him while he enjoys their hospitality.” The once-General has a complicated relationship with the Amazons; with the mother of his youngest son and with their current Queen, but overall he believes there is a value in the wild women of the Jungle and he would never count them out of any discussion. Then for a moment he is quiet, the silence broken instead by the roan’s declaration of support. At the thought of waiting for Mountain to return to claim his Kingship, once more the warrior’s skin crawls and he twitches as if to shoo flies and shifts, digging one hoof into the ground. “Of course we will choose ourselves a new King. Perhaps the Amazons would like to keep our former King. And good riddance.” Brennen flicks an irritated glance around the group, more than ready to start a physical altercation with any who disagree that Mountain must go – the uneasy feeling has left him restless, and he would be more than happy to feel the impact of flesh beneath his hooves to sooth. It is in these rare moments that one can see through his usually bored, affable mannerisms to the warrior that lies underneath. But with a deep breath he settles again, some of the heat leaving his honey-brown eyes as he exhales, resuming a bodily stillness even as his face quirks into a sardonic half-smile. “And I believe I have already made my vote and my reasons clear. At this time, I stand with Errant.” brennen immortal, winged, bone-bending, ice-manipulating, wind-manipulating Tundra warrior
04-17-2015, 10:11 PM
Let the battle cry be heard in the land, a shout of great destruction
Kratos had waited and watched with hooded, calculating eyes as the iron-grey mare led their false king away. Through their own lapse in vigilance the boy had been stolen but nonetheless it was a curious turn of events. The Brotherhood was rid of their crowned nuisance and neither a hair nor a temper tantrum had to be thrown about the Tundra in order to do it. For now, at least – until the veil fell. But Kratos would wait for that, too. The kingdom doesn’t hide the titan well, although nearly nothing did, and if one had been watching him when Errant’s call came they would have seen a splinter of lightning spark across his painted skin. Kratos had not willingly came to the call of any other stallion but the Nightwalker and as he moved to answer Errant’s, a pang of dormant sorrow rang through him. But Kratos bares his teeth and flings his heavy white head (as if he could shake the memories away) as he makes his way to the gathering. The black and white draft flicks a feathered ear at Errant as he asks the question they have all already answered, “fuck no, we choose a new king to sit today,” he says– Mountain will be king here no longer. His eyes shift to the roan as he adds another tally to his grandfather’s scroll of supporters, he offers his name to the stallion first, “Kratos,” he tells him. He knows Errant intends to take the throne but still he says, “I would lead the Brothers,” he is young and brash and his blood is thick with generations of kings yet he adds, “but I would serve you too,” and his words are not lies. He knows he is a dark stranger to most of them here, he is not foolish enough to think they would chose the wild youngblood over their old magician king? Kratos would not be content to just be part of the cadre long and he wondered what role Errant would have them play in the war that was soon coming. But for now he would give his bloodline his vote and bide his time. For the whole land will be devoured by the fire of his hunger
KRATOS
vanquish x lyric
He comes in after Brennen lands among the rest, in time to hear a few quips about the Amazons. It brings a light-hearted smile to his face at the truth of the scarred winged stallion's words. Of course, indeed, though he knows it was actually Lagertha's doing and Errant's influence that landed the mad King within the Jungle's borders. It pleases him that despite his question of Lagertha's motives, in the end she had proved that she was a clever warrior woman of the 'Zons- whether she got along with the his mother and Khaleesi or not. And it pleases him even greater that her meddling, surprise aside, resulted in the opportunity that each of the Brothers have at this moment to discuss what was necessary without Mountain's interference.
Simeon almost chuckles at Brennen's comment about Mountain staying in the Jungle. Surely, if the Brotherhood didn't decide to kill the madman, it would take very little time for his end to meet him in the Amazons if he stayed. No doubt by Scorch, or even Lagertha, perhaps even along with a few other sisters. There is a very subtle head shake from the bay roan stallion, mismatched eyes glinting with amusement. Truly, Sim doesn't care if the man dies, his only concern is that his loved ones remain unharmed. The thought of something happening to any of them at the doings of Mountain causes his blood to boil beneath his skin, the burn in his chest uncharacteristic for the typically happy-go-lucky young man. His family was something no one should mess with. Which brings another thought to his mind: he was terribly inexperienced. To fighting. To politics. And then he thinks of what he's been sent here to do. The first two men declare their support of his uncle at the kingdom's head. Simeon's gaze travels over the rest of the men gathered and he waits only a moment before he clears his throat and takes a single step forward. There is something he needs to say. "On the topic of the Amazons. My mother, Scorch, has sent me here to rise alongside Errant, if he is to take the throne, to secure an alliance between Tundra and 'Zons. I agreed to come here and stay- if you all will have me. However," he pauses here, his eyes had been among them all, but now come to rest on the scarred black magician. "I must be honest. I do not wish to be handed anything, nor do I believe you would simply give me a title. It should be earned. Admittedly, I have much to learn. About the Tundra- about everything, before I can truly be considered for any rank. Where I stand, I leave to you. But, if it is decided I stay at all, of course I will stand by you as King." When he finishes, he steps back, taking in a deep breath and releasing it in a slow, quiet sigh. May Scorch forgive him, he feels as though a huge weight has been lifted from his chest having said what he felt was necessary to say. He simply didn't feel that he should start things off here with them seeing him for anything other than who and what he is, rather than what his mother- or anyone- wanted him to be. He has never considered a leadership role before, and if he was to rise to such- as he had said- it should certainly be earned, not given. Besides that, he does indeed have much to learn before he should take on such a responsibility. But for now, he stands back and watches, listening intently.
OOC – Okay so I think Kratos, Brennan and Simeon all kinda posted around the same time yesterday so my post doesn’t include Brennan in it. I was going to edit the other post but with Simeon’s post, I just decided to write another J And since I already wrote it as if Brennan wasn’t there yet when he first arrived, I’ll just keep it that way if that’s okay – if not, let me know Devin!
Let the battle cry be heard in the land, a shout of great destruction
Kratos doesn’t shift at the sound of wings as Brennan comes, he was far too accustomed to it through his childhood to be anything less than used to it now. When the bay warrior lands he offers him a nod of acknowledgment, it seemed the more scars a man carried the more likely Kratos was to like him. He had taken care to notice both Errant and Brennan had skin illustrated in them. Brennan speaks his piece about the Jungle women before he, too, offers Errant his support and this time it is without the scatter of sarcasm their first exchange had held. Kratos was sure, as old as they were, that the two stallions had had their share of bludgeons and bouts of the mouth throughout the years with each other but it seemed they were more akin to stand alongside one another than against. The bay roan with the soft-tongue and skin that smelled like mares and the Jungle came next and the words he speaks make Kratos’ black ears flick back against his skull. His eyes had only fell across him once before, when he saw him join the gathering when the iron mare had come to take Nihlus (and left with a king, too). Kratos is not unfamiliar with the Amazons, his own brother Tarnished was a prince of the Jungle once and he himself had ran his father’s dunes with Quark – a queen before Scorch’s predecessor. The Deserts and the Jungle had one of the oldest standing (if it still stood now, that is) alliances within these kingdoms – they were no stranger to the draft. And each time the Jungle’s earthy scent came his mouth crackled with lightning at the thought of Rhy – his Rhy, for he would make sure she would know no other. But he had heard the gossipmongers in the Meadow, the Jungle queen has been busy in the Deserts and elsewhere. Kratos had no desire to be ruled by proxy by some powerdrunk women in a kingdom far from where he lay he his head. “I do not even know your name, so no, I will not have you as my king,” he says, there is no malice in his voice but there is no softness in it either. He would serve Errant, but not a nameless stallion sent by his mother – he didn’t even carry the scent of ice on his skin yet. His gaze doesn’t shift to the Brothers as he locks gazes with Simeon, in truth Kratos has bridled his tongue today. He lifts a heavy foreleg and paws at the raw ground beneath his feet, the snow melted away from his radiating heat and he turns to Errant, “Would you have him sit beside you?” He asks the magician, because while it will not sway his mind he is genuinely curious, “do you know my name?” He swings his head back to Simeon, “or his?” He indicates to Brennan. He rolls a massive shoulder as if to emphasize the incredulity of the suggestion, “I would perhaps have you as a future brother, but not as my king,” he repeats before his attention flickers back to Errant – because he still wanted an answer to his question. For the whole land will be devoured by the fire of his hunger
KRATOS
vanquish x lyric
[Gonna be short, because my post didn't include Kratos (just saw it xD my bad). But also bc he would like to reply lol]
Bicolored eyes slide over to the massive white and black stallion as he speaks. He studies him momentarily, because he can feel the electricity coming off the man. He feels it like static, and his own wild energy responds with his heart giving a light palpitation. It is not in fear, but in admiration. He has heard of this man, mere whispers on the wind of his abilities, as well as briefly scenting him in the jungle. Though he hadn't recognized it then, he is able to place it now. However, he does not in fact know his name. Simeon stands in place as the draft speaks, taking it all in stride, nodding to him when he is through. "I'm Simeon. As I said, it was my mother's scheme to have me stand beside Errant. But I don't want a hand-out. I'd like to stay here and learn all of what is to be learned, including your names, but I do not believe I should stand as a king, or even as a right-hand, until it has been earned. As of yet, I am inexperienced. Would like to change that, in time." He is nothing if not honest and outgoing. He was laying it all out for them, a confession of sorts, he is not so prideful as to make claims to dress himself up before them, because in time it would be proven how much of a novice he was indeed. The young stallion does want to learn what they would teach him. His loyalty would lie with his family, but his family is extended here as well. In the end, though, they could all take his confession for weakness, he is aware. While he certainly does not deem himself so, his inexperience could be seen as such. But he leaves it up to them: would he be deemed fit to stay and learn, or be sent back to the Jungle? And so he waits.
04-19-2015, 05:34 PM
there's no religion that could save me no matter how long my knees are on the floor i'll pick up these broken pieces 'til i'm bleeding if that'll make it right He comes quietly, a small dark brown hare on the outskirts of the meeting. His large floppy ears hear all, his nose twitching from time to time, though he stays quiet for the most part. It is only when each of the men have shoved their opinions in as ungracefully as slugs that the colt squeezes his eyes shut and sets his nerves afire. Then, and only then, does the Nihlus they know add to the chaos with his own views. "It is grandmother Scorch’s doing, though you’ll be lucky if she holds him there just long enough for the crown to be lifted from his insolent head.” A wry smirk colours his inky lips, for he knows what he speaks his true. On the contrary, he has a small headache and can’t seem to recall any of the words spoken by Scorch, but he knows that he’s definitely met her somewhere. The pains of time-altering magic, you know. "Concerning Simeon – Uncle Simeon, that is – I don’t think we ought to discard him outright. Scorch would just be pissed, and we’d lose the most powerful alliance there is to have. That being said, I don’t want you fucking shit up as king, either.” The small colt scuffs the snow-strewn earth with his bark-lined foreleg. "Maybe he could just stay here and earn ranks as best as any of us can. That would secure the alliance without the men of the Tundra jostling their testosterone about uselessly.” His faintly glowing blue eyes leave the group to settle on Errant specifically. "That being said, I support you totally as king, great uncle Errant. And also, I don’t want to be in either caste but I’ll still work for the Tundra, in case you haven’t noticed.” He’s referencing how he successfully blocked Errant and Kratos from getting stolen, but he’s sure his great-uncle would know this. Just certain. Nihlus rain manipulating, rabbit shifting son of Sinder & Noori
04-23-2015, 05:02 PM
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