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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    Desolation comes upon the sky; ALL Nerinians + Tournament Participants
    #1
    After they finish their mocks, or don’t finish as the case may be, they are standing around waiting on something to happen, and happen it does. Without ever remembering falling asleep, they awaken far away from the challenging fields, and apart from many of their Brothers and Sisters: the Krakens have been returned to Ischia, and the Leviathans to Nerine.

    The Nerinians find themselves awakening along the cool, swirling coast of their home, the cliffs above already casting them in deep shadows as dusk falls. Their bodies are sore as if from travel, leaving them wondering how they got home. Each of them is alone somewhere on the edge of the coastal kingdom. Not completely clueless, though; they are filled with the compunction to find their Amazonian Advisor in the depths of the eerie pine forest near the center of the kingdom, knowing somehow that only by doing so would they be able to complete their final task, and pledge themselves truly to the Sisterhood.

    However, it isn’t as simple as that. Did they expect it to be? Somewhere along the way, each of them is faced with the temptation to turn back; something or someone that urges them to abandon the Sisterhood and Nerine; tempts them with their darkest fears and deepest desires to leave the Leviathans and make a home elsewhere. It will take strong hearts and clear minds to prevail here.

    Those that succeed find Scorch at the basin of the forest, surrounded on all sides by massive pines that bleed darkness and sobriety. Around her naked body, threads of light twist and dance. As each individual arrives, a beam of light shoots out to welcome them, bending around their figure fluidly. To each, Scorch offers only a nod; her lips set in the smallest smile. Only when the pale light of the rising moon infiltrates the dense forest that surrounds them does Scorch speak. “My Sisters,” her words encompass all of them - from the youngest to oldest, the women and the men - “I am glad to see you have made it this far tonight, and look forward to recognizing your other accomplishments in the days to come. But the time has come for us to formally pledge ourselves to one another.”

    Her molten red-yellow eyes drift from face to face. “First, I would ask that you share with us a secret of yourself, and any information from your past that might affect the Sisterhood in the future. Those who have no dangerous secrets may simply share something they hold close to their own hearts. In knowing each other’s secrets, we are better protected as a whole.” She scans the crowd, knowing that this request might cause them to balk. But they are here - they defeated the darkness - and they will find that by submitting to complete vulnerability before each of their peers, they will be stronger as a whole. “Second, I ask you to pledge your loyalty to the Leviathans.” She clears her throat a little, and lets those words echo into the space around them all.

    “By land, sea, and whispers in the wind we remember — the first and last, the sword and shield. By our land and our history, we stand strong in our duty. May the spirits of our predecessors guide and watch over us as we, a proud kingdom, dare to dream of a future with equality. We live by the law: we did, we can, we will.

    My people, live a good life and die a better death knowing we conquer those who threaten us. Bound by nothing we lead the future by our history. Remember to always be feared, as we become a shield for the weak.”


    And then she waits.

    OOC:
    So there is a different prompt for Ischians and Nerinians but the components are thus:
    In order to reach Brennen/Scorch, you must describe your journey from shore to the specified area, including what form the dark force/temptation takes and how you combat it. (Its source is Oblivion, who is telepathetic and has a fear aura. He will not be taking corporeal form, but you can get creative with this).
    Telling at least one secret/secrets that may affect your Kingdom
    Pledge yourself to your respective Kingdom

    Everyone who participates in this round will receive points in the tournament if they were participating, and one winner from each Kingdom will get more points. It will be judged overall on creativity.

    All Nerinians and Ischians are invited to participate and pledge to their Kingdoms even if they were not part of the tournament
    [Image: scorch2.png]
    #2

    she’s got jumper cable lips
    she’s got sunset on her breath. now i inhaled just a little bit, now i’ve got no fear of death

    It’s as if she blinks her eye and in the milliseconds of darkness she soars across miles.

    When Wishbone’s eyes open, they land upon the expanse of the ocean stretching ahead of her feet. It’s cool on the shoreline, instantly soothing the sweat that dampens her exhausted body. She aches all over, but the thrill of suddenly opening her eyes to find a new place pushes the pain away momentarily. Dusk is beginning to settle across the northern kingdom, casting her portion of the beach in a hazy twilight glow.

    You need to find Scorch.

    It’s an intense thought, so deeply rooted and bold it nearly slips out of her own mouth. A tug — like a tether of instinct, firm and rugged — in her stomach guides her toward the forest in the center of Nerine, one Wishbone has adventured through many times before. Although the mahogany girl loves the ocean (the water is much chillier than Tephra’s southern sea but the rhythm of the waves and the sureness of the tides is intensely familiar to her childhood), she finds her feet turning in the sand to head up the nearby embankment to reach a plateau.

    It is while she is winding between patches of rugged beach grass that a faint blue mist appears. It kisses her bruised body, cool and silky against her long legs. A whisper of her name rides upon the mist’s face and the voice it belongs to is as familiar as her own. Her best friend’s face comes to her mind — the angles of his golden and navy face, the handsome way his fangs poke from beneath his lips, the ivory of his high mane style — and in the same moment, almost as if someone had peered into the crevices of her mind, Wolfbane appears in front of her.

    The mist slides away from his cheep chest and ivory feathers, giving the appearance that he has been born from it. A smile finds Wishbone’s mouth, deliriously pleased that her best friend has come to join her on her quest to find Scorch. In her exhaustion and soreness, she doesn’t question the arrival of his presence, merely glad to find him here. Wolfbane being here with her has already soothed some of the pain from her muscles.

    “Wolfbane! I’m so glad to see you here.” The girl steps forward, her nose finding his in a greeting, but when she moves back she notices the blood dripping from his neck. They’re superficial wounds, sliced along the golden of his neck and across his shoulders, but they soak his legs and chest in red liquid nonetheless. “Fuck, Bane, what happened?”

    He’s stumbling toward her and his angular cheeks seem hollow. There’s a void in his eyes, as though he’s seen something so terribly dreadful that it will haunt his sleeping moments for the rest of his life. “You need to leave Nerine.” His voice is breathy and rough, as if he has been running and screaming for miles. He doesn’t tell her it is dangerous because, surely, she would run toward the danger. There’s urgency in his eyes though, amid the empty fear, and his mouth opens to offer another word of warning. “More will come and tell you the same.”

    As quickly as he arrives, he is gone. Wolfbane takes flight into the sky and fades into the dusk (Wishbone’s eyes do not see the way he disintegrates into a fine blue mist), leaving the mahogany girl in a state of confusion and bewilderment. Her feet seem to be glued to the ground, amid beach-grass and rough granite-rock, and it isn’t but a moment after Wolfbane has left that another arrives. Warrick is swaddled in the same blue haze that the previous had been and it matches the cerulean in his gaze. Wishbone finds herself racing into the familiar embrace of her father, melting into his deep chest. “Dad! What’s happening?” The swirl of emotions thick in her chest are too muddled to pick apart.

    She pulls away for a moment to evaluate her father’s face. Warrick has the fine skill of censoring his emotions away from his face, but his family has always been able to pick apart the small ticks in his face. Yet Wishbone’s eyes land upon blood — blood like Wolfbane — cascading down her father’s face, cloaking his face entirely until all she can see is the blue of his eyes. “Oh, God!” She’s nearly screaming, amber eyes searching out the source of the bloodshed.

    “You need to leave Nerine.” His voice is just as breathless and rugged as Wolfbane’s had been, his gaze holding that same nightmarish expression, and dread rips through Wishbone like a bitter hurricane. “Why? Dad, what happened?” Her questions receive no answers because Warrick is murmuring, “More will come and tell you the same,” and taking to the skies.

    He too fades into a blue mist her worried eyes do not catch.

    More come, as numerous as the constellations above, and they are all faces she knows. Trekori and Solace and Wound and Lepis and Ivar and Kagerus and Khaedrik — all with blood drowning some inch of their body, all with the same words upon their lips, all looking as though they have seen the ugly, shadowed face of death. Wishbone stops asking questions by the third bloodied face. She remembers Scorch by the sixth.

    When she begins to move toward the pine forest — Khaedrik’s blood-freckled mouth kissing her hip with the words “You need to leave Nerine” upon his tongue — the blue mist is thick and heavy, clouding her vision and hiding the trail leading to the forest. A frustrated scream leaves Wishbone’s mouth and she wheels to meet Ivar’s stricken eyes. “Leave me alone!” It’s an angry cry, fueled by the confusion and rage of seeing so many friends and family destroyed by blood and untold horror.

    As her voice fades into the early night, they all arrive. All those who have come before and all those who might’ve come after swarm her like thunderclouds on a spring day and they are slathered in blood so thick she can barely make out their hazy eyes. It’s silent for a heartbreaking moment (the first silence since they have begun arriving) before their mouths open. Each is speaking aloud, all with the same words, yet they are separated and bounce off one another at different intervals. It is a cacophony of five urgent, rough words.

    You need to leave Nerine.

    Wishbone turns and runs, stumbling across the plateau and into the heavy mist. It seems to cling to her shoulders and hips, drawing her close like a lover’s embrace, but she pushes away with another wild — and is that terror? — scream. They follow her, hoofbeats sounding like endless thunder, and her pulse is racing so quickly her heart might spring from her chest.

    She is not running away from Nerine, but deeper. Despite their words — which now rise to angry shouts — that pierce into her core, Wishbone finds herself searching for Scorch with even deeper purpose. They are right on her heels the entire time and the plateau with the thick blue fog is stretching on and on and she is only running in the same place. She is fed up. Finally, she turns on a dime and pins her ears, anger evident in every sinewy line of her body.

    “I will not leave Nerine!”

    They disappear and the mist disappears with them. “Oh, my God.” Wishbone stands alone for a moment, her words coming out in a whispering exhale. The stars are shining above her head, illuminating the auburn in her tangled locks. Just in front of her feet, the northern sea laps gentle waves at her feet. She’s sweating but a cool nighttime breeze is drying the dampness from her mahogany sides.

    Wishbone hasn’t moved since her eyes had first opened.

    With that realization — as shatteringly loud as glass breaking in the middle of a quiet room — the heiress turns and races for the pine tree forest. Exhaustion lines her body, mingling with the pain of her fighting and the soreness of her terror, yet still her long legs move nimbly across Nerine’s landscape until she reaches the very center of the kingdom. A bright light blinds the girl for a moment before she blinks away the lingering surprise.

    Wishbone is breathing deeply, fueled by the fear and anger gripping her only moments before, but her lungs calm as Scorch begins speaking. No one is in danger. She doesn’t need to leave Nerine. It was a test. The girl is soothed by these thoughts and she twists her ears toward the speaker as her heart begins a relatively normal pace in her chest. There is a secret they must share, a deep and unannounced one, and Wishbone knows hers with a startling surety.

    She speaks first, perhaps because her secret is already upon her tongue or perhaps because she had been the first to arrive. “I am terrified that there will be no more adventures to go on.” She has nightmares of this secret — spinning and drifting where everything is gray and there is only endless rolling hills of nothingness — and woken many nights drenched with the sweat of fear and apprehension. Once they finish, these Leviathans who have gathered, they must pledge.

    “By land, sea, and whispers in the wind we remember — the first and last, the sword and shield. By our land and our history, we stand strong in our duty. May the spirits of our predecessors guide and watch over us as we, a proud kingdom, dare to dream of a future with equality. We live by the law: we did, we can, we will.

    My people, live a good life and die a better death knowing we conquer those who threaten us. Bound by nothing we lead the future by our history. Remember to always be feared, as we become a shield for the weak.”


    Pride swells in her heart, the anger and fear from her bloodied family and friends completely eradicated from her.

    wishbone



    word count: 1698
    i am so sorry this is so long
    #3
    Her success in the debate round is dampened by losing to one of her former Brothers in the mock battles - she is sure her father was watching, and she doesn’t want to look around and find out. Thankfully, they don’t have a lot of time to socialize after the mocks have finished; everything must have gone dark (she thinks...she doesn’t remember) and instead of waking on the challenge grounds, she wakes in the sand of Nerine, completely alone.

    The bay mare surges to her feet and looks around, confused and annoyed to find that she still has her aches and pains from the battle as well as just an overall soreness like she’d run home. Sand clings to her feathers and she shifts her wings to leathery dragon wings and gives them a good shake to free herself of the sand and then lets her wings fade back into inky black feathers and folds her wings to her sides. For a moment she stalls still and solitary in the salty breeze, as a gentle urge to go find Scorch becomes more and more insistent. When it feels almost physical, like someone shouting in her head, and steps off at a quick trot to go look.

    As she’s weaving around the ins and outs of cliffs and sand knolls, movement catches her eye and she slows, turning towards a familiar face. It’s not her father, as she thought at first by some feeling, but a collection of her siblings. She’s got more than plenty of them, but these few are quite familiar since she’s been living with them for some time before coming to Nerine. She turns to one of her oldest siblings first, looking into Cagney’s brown face with his dark eyes that aren’t anything like hers and their father’s. “Cagney,” she starts, but he uncharacteristically interrupts her. “You should have won that,” the roan boy says, voice matter-of-fact. “What would dad think?” Logically, she should laugh in his face; if any of Brennen’s children were truly hopeless fighters, it would be strange and fake-like Cagney. Bristol, in contrast, was really a good fighter. But fear of disappoint sears her chest and she ducks her head before she responds. “I...I just got flustered. I’ll do better.” Cagney simply stares at her, and then turns and walks away.

    For a moment, she wants to run and hide; to go back to being daddy’s little girl who isn't accountable for her own failures. But she can’t: and the reason is also standing here, blinking at her. Little Khaeli - the actual youngest daughter. Bristol generally does well with her big family, but for a moment jealousy surges and she pins her ears, glaring at Khaeli standing beside an older sister - pinto Alonwy looking as serene and uncaring as ever. “What do you want?” she snaps, wondering if they too are here to tell her how much she will have disappointed Brennen by losing to Takei (and what good is a daughter of Brennen to Nerine, if she can’t even fight?). But that's not it. “Why weren’t you there?” They ask in unison, and the jealously fades as Bristol’s heart clenches. This is so much worse. “If you hadn’t abandoned Ischia, you could have saved us. Saved me. Maybe you would have been my babysitter.” Khaeli’s solemn words ring her ears, and her vision is blurry. With tears? “If you go to Nerine, everyone else will die too. Drax and Taeryn and everyone. It will be all your fault.”

    She almost goes back. Family loyalty is as strong as her fledgling loyalty to Nerine, and she’s turned around and even started walking, unfurling her wings with every intention of taking to the sky. But the sight of her wings, just like Brennen’s, remind her that Brennen and the Brothers are only half of her family. There are so many people there to protect her younger siblings - she was not and will not be the turning point. She can protect the people of Nerine, and stand beside her father and her family there. And maybe someday she will find out about her mom.

    Before she can change her mind again, the mare turns and gallops away from the frightful apparitions of her siblings, into the trees and to Scorch. Taking deep breaths to calm her heart and her soul, she listens to the Advisor while she glances around, looking at the other sisters. She is ready to take this pledge of Sisterhood with the other Leviathans, and to relegate her father to family and ally, not King. Bristol waits for Wishbone to speak, and then takes a final deep breath and raises her own head, proud to stand with these people and call them her own. “I don’t know that it’s dangerous, or a secret,” she says quietly, “But I am a daughter of Brennen, who was once ready to take her place amongst the Krakens. Instead I am ready to take my place amongst the Leviathans, the former Amazons, my mother’s people.” She knows as far as secrets go, that's not great, so she continues on. “I am afraid I will always be in my father’s shadow, and the shadow cast by some of my siblings.”

    She thinks of Belgaer, of Jesper who is growing into himself. She thinks of Astarael, even, who is queen of the ominous Sylva. Of Cagney (the real one), with control of time itself. Of the children who will certainly come in the future. Yes, she is afraid of being nothing compared to them, even as much as she loves them. The pledge is easier, and she lifts her voice to join theirs. “By land, sea, and whispers in the wind we remember — the first and last, the sword and shield. By our land and our history, we stand strong in our duty. May the spirits of our predecessors guide and watch over us as we, a proud kingdom, dare to dream of a future with equality. We live by the law: we did, we can, we will.”
    #4
    Tähti

    The raven filly has grown in a fine grey young woman, adorned with shades of ebony - namely wings, mane, and tail - and a small dot of white still adorning her forehead, though it's faded. For being named after a star, she's not done much in Nerine. Maybe she was too young. Maybe she would have done better if she'd come now, instead of being allowed to leave.

    Doesn't matter. What matters is that after the Tournament, Scorch had decided to test all who were present in Nerine regardless, and she finds herself at the water's edge. The ocean laps at her feat, rocks rise up in the air before her. It'll not be the easiest climb, with the autumn winds shifting, but she has her wings and she knows she has to go up before going into the heart of Nerine to find Scorch. Honestly it seems that this is the only thing that she knows.

    It's not undoable; the test is mostly physical, and muscle memory takes over when she flies up. It is the illusion that is the challenge; ah, something had to be off, of course; suddenly surrounded in blackness, she doesn't know where to go, and mid-air without orientation, she only knows how to go up.

    She goes far higher than the cliff she was climbing, but when she's reached a point about twice it's height, her vision clears. But it's not Nerine she sees - pointed towards the south, she doesn't know that it's yet another made-up image.

    Hyaline burns. She hears the cries of babies, of Kagerus and Svedka, but most of all of Solace and her mother. Scared, she looks in horror as the image comes closer. So taken up in the illusion, she's unaware that she hasn't moved towards them in flight, but is stuck to her one place way up high in the sky, a tiny grey and black speck against the horizon.

    In the illusion, she flies towards them. In the illusion, it is her battle trainings in Nerine that give her the advantage - Kagerus doesn't seem able to sleep. But Tähti knows the source of the fire is another horse, a magical one, and she dives down to chase him away, to beat him, whatever it is that will chase him away. She knows why she's been sent to Nerine. This is her purpose! She's a protector!

    Unfortunately, all of this being an illusion, she takes a dive for real.

    Unfortunately, she hits the rock instead of the sea.

    Unfortunately, her neck snaps with a sickening sound that even Oblivion could not have intended.


    And by the time she wakes, she knows that she has failed.
    And that she should return to Hyaline soon.

    we are Stars, wrapped in skin
    the Light you are searching
    has always been Within
    ©HTML Tiny


    @[Scorch] okay this got more dramatic than first intended, but it seemed to good an opportunity.
    #5
    The next breath she inhales suddenly makes her throat feel scratchy and irritated.  Dark eyes snap open upon the unwelcomed intrusion as her head lifts upward, forcefully coughing on the assaulting sand granules that grated against the back of her throat.  With a final heave of air, her coughing fit subsided, leaving her mouth feeling raw and dry.  Wide eyes scan the area around her dazedly from the vantage point of where lay upon the cool evening sands of the Nerinian coast.  There was no recollection of having finished the Tournament, or making her way back to her home land. Why am I sleeping out in the open?, she chides herself for such a poor tactical decision.

    Rising from the pillowy sands, she shook her frame out to rid herself of the lingering particles, while her dark eyes looked first to the sea, and then to the depths of the forest  that claimed the heart of the kingdom. Where was everybody?  Not a single person seemed to be around, and immediately her stance shifted to one of rising alarm.  Something was definitely off and her nerves began to alight with adrenaline a new.  With the rising tide of hormones, the steady ache of her body rapidly declines, seemingly dragging an undeniable compulsion to keep moving to the forefront with it.  But where?, she asks herself.   As if they acted on their own accord, she feels the heavy rhythmic falls of her own hooves churning the sand beneath her, carrying her towards the lumbering pines.

    What exactly it was that made the leopard woman traipse into the familiarity of the forest, she couldn’t say, but the aura of the woods themselves seemed just as off-kilter as the one on the beach, she carried herself with increasing caution.  With each pass deeper inward, the temperature declined, taking the dimming light further into nothingness with it.  The absence of any thing audible was perhaps the most eerie part of whatever was taking place;  there were no sounds of hungry gull’s, or the crash of waves in the distance, or even the rustle of a breeze running through the winding wood.  But there would be no stopping however, her limbs declining to obey the logic that tried helplessly to force her betraying body back the way she had come.  A simple fear of drawing unwanted attention towards her kept her from calling out for help.

    A final step shifts the dying light into perpetual darkness as her body halts, not before seeing one last final expulsion of air accumulating in vapors in the frigid chill of the air.  The blackness envelops her; its embrace is disturbingly welcome as though it had been expecting her this entire time.

    Heat begins to swell in her chest, followed by a sudden deafening pounding within her ears.  The onslaught is enough to elicit a wincing cry from her charcoal lips.  Shaking her head, Breckin tries in vain to steady her ragged breathing as it was becoming increasingly harder.  The pounding in her ears she comes to realize is the frantic drumbeat of her heart, rising to the heated orchestra of panic that was penetrating her very existence.  Anxiously, she turns about her, trying to find a way to get away from whatever was overtaking her her, but it was futile.  There was nothing, nothing, nothing, but everlasting darkness.

    A minute, an hour, a decade passes, she had no idea-there is no way to tell time- before the assumed makings of a voice overtake the haphazard beating of her heart.  At first it’s difficult to make out through the strain of her hearing, the noise seems to be echoing around her.  But the amplitude magnifies until at last she begins to formulate the makings of the words.  Wait, not words, but a single word.

    Surrender.

    A single word, issued with enough force behind it meant to break the confidence of those weak-willed.  ”Surrender,” she repeats to herself with a whisper, the sound of her own voice sounding to her own ears.  Breckin knew this word, knew the voice that had said it, knew the uneasy feelings that would accompany it.  It was an internal battle she faced on a daily routine, only this time the war was the most tangible experience she could imagine.  The depths of her eyes begin to glaze and her rigid body begins to wilt under the weight of her own self-doubt.

    You’re useless, unskilled, unworthy.  Nerine doesn’t need you.  No one needs you.  You’re weak, forgettable, a nobody.  You don’t even know you are.  You don’t belong here, Breckin.

    The words echo around her, not coming from her own mouth, but they could have been; her own personal mantra.  Like a subtle poison the words fed upon her each day. Each strike at her confidence was like a blow to the head and heart, tearing at her core and sanity alike.  A trail of tears fled along the curve of her cheek as her head dropped lower with each passing second.

    Breckin knew then, she must have died and been in limbo before going to her own personal hell.
    Just go, said the voice. Turn around and leave.  It’s the easiest way out, it said again with a kinder air.  The warmth of a rising sun washes over her then, her head turning behind her to see a widening aura of light beckoning to her.  Time to move on, Breckin, and get what you deserve.  Feeling exhausted, powerless and defeated, she turned towards the light, looking upon its brilliance before moving towards the source.  Smart girl, the voice praised smugly.

    Trance-like she continued towards the light, until the voice began to say something else.  It didn’t matter though, her mind was made and whatever sick words the voice was trying to toss at her now would simply fall upon a numb conscious.

    Surrender. a quieter, angrier voice whispered behind her ear.  It was enough to draw her up short of the growing light.  The glazed depths of her eyes hardened and narrowed, casting about her with sheer agitation, ”I DID ALREADY, what more do you want from me?!  You win!”

    Surrender, the voice repeated, fear.  Spinning a tight circle, Breckin glances around her in angered confusion, trying to figure out where the different voice was coming from.  It did not echo or attempt to consume her, she realizes before stilling once more.  Straining her ears and closing her eyes, she tried to hear it one more time.  Surrender your fear.  Clear as day, the voice rang within her mind, not around her.  Something deep within her shifted then and her eyes reopened to the light washing over her.  Fear and self-doubt had plagued her, exhausting her, but the revelation that her personal fears had been entirely misplaced.  She had been so readily willing to die, so unafraid of what lay beyond the unknown.  Why should she be so afraid to live?

    In the only act of resistance she could bring to fruition, her worn hoof pawed the darkened ground before letting loose a scream of defiance at the now sputtering light.  The glowing orb began to hiss in displeasure, before spinning 180 degrees towards the belly of the darkness.  Kicking her legs into a full-blown gallop, she flew into the awaiting darkness as the brilliance of the light behind her heaved and shattered in a burst of energy, the heat of the onslaught seemed to scorch her pale back.  Not daring to look back, she gathered her muscles into a leap of faith, letting the momentum of the shockwave carry her into the void.

    The crunch of her hooves meeting gravel pervaded all her senses as the leopard woman skidded to a halt in a clearing, the only thing keeping her from pushing on was the sudden appearance of Scorch in front of her.  Moonlight washes across Breckin’s spotted frame, further rooting her to where she now stood while her sides heaved achingly.  Wild eyes turn to look upon the other’s gathered around Scorch before tracing back to where her friend now stood.  Flickering ears rotate to attention as the barren mare speaks to them.

    When her breathing eases, and the haze of her mind clears, she is able to assume that whatever had just taken place was likely a test of their will.  As her turn comes to pass, her eyes meet with each of the other’s around her before finding the hoarseness of her voice, “I don’t know my past or who I am.  Only who I am becoming.”  

    Then with an open heart and mind, she commits herself fully to the Sisterhood, ”By land, sea, and whispers in the wind we remember — the first and last, the sword and shield. By our land and our history, we stand strong in our duty. May the spirits of our predecessors guide and watch over us as we, a proud kingdom, dare to dream of a future with equality. We live by the law: we did, we can, we will.

    My people, live a good life and die a better death knowing we conquer those who threaten us. Bound by nothing we lead the future by our history. Remember to always be feared, as we become a shield for the weak.”


    Breckin then falls quiet, listening to the dying rage inflicted upon herself, ready to face the repercussions of her own internal battle.




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