"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
Burnt amber and fiery reds rustle above his ghastly head as he strides further into the woods. Crimson eyes rove over the shadows that lengthen the further he goes in, the dark trunks and reaching branches. The gilded foliage above is beautiful, even he can appreciate it’s beauty, and at least the forest floor is dark. Not quite as sinister as Taiga had felt but good enough. At least this ruler had given up her crown, there was no one to contest with. No Ruans to lurk and plot and rebel.
Nostrils flare as he slowly releases his built up tension, muscles unclenching beneath his stiff white pelt. The adrenaline quickly fading as his mind turns to other matters. He had smelled Thana’s blood but she was a big girl, she could take care of herself. Besides, revenge was in her hands when he had left the captive under her watchful eye. A sigh, thinking to join them. Release himself. Business first, pleasure later.
Once he has moved about the territory (after inspecting the lands, making sure no others lingered behind, and removing Djinni’s scent by placing his own) he heads back to the heart of the forest. His piercing call finding it’s way through the twisting leaves and thick trees. Once they have assembled, fresh faces and familiar ones, he speaks. ”Our time in Taiga was cut short. Here we have another chance.” Crimson iris’s flicking to each one in turn. Some would thrive, others would die. ”I intend to pick up where we left off.. With vigor.” He circles around them, brushing his ghostly shoulder against one in particular.
”We need new recruits. I only want those with potential. If they are worthless, do not extend the invitation.” A pause, glancing at those around him. Only the broken if they were fit as playthings, only the magical if they could help the campaign. Only the dark that wished to serve. ”We are Elite.” He hisses through bared teeth, making his intentions clear. ”Every Autumn you will be well rewarded for your efforts.” A twisted grin finding his lips as his burning gaze lands on Thana. The silky curve of the stark white hairs that frame along her brow. Letting them speculate the audacity he has planned for them.
”I encourage you to find useful slaves, to challenge and steal from any kingdoms that we are not in agreement with. I encourage you to engage in your most taboo desires. Also Thana is our new NightMother. She will watch this land when I’m not around. I advise to keep her in good spirits.” Sylva would be quiet no longer, it would be filled with the rich screams of the tortured. The moans of the sexual satiated. The cackling of the diabolical. Ruled by his heavy hand and backed up by her malevolent tendencies. ”Become familiar with these new ways. Seek me when you are ready to become one of us.”
Another pause, letting his address to the new fall away. Turning his attention to those that still were trying to find their way into his good graces. ”Morty, Aditi.” A critical eye looking to them each. Aditi had failed to kill the child, Morty was chomping at the bit to prove himself. So he will give them each a task, a last chance for her while the boy’s was filled with high expectations… ”You have the makings of an assassin. You can hide but can you seek?” He muses, carefully keeping his gaze on that of the clown. ”Your assignment is a simple one. Seek out someone with pain in their heart. Kill that which causes their pain.” To the mare his task is even simpler. ”I need to go to Hyaline. You will accompany me.” There was still business to wrap up with the wolf pack. There’s no time like the present, placing a sharp nip on her neck with blunted teeth, he heads in the direction of the lake. Expecting her to fall in place beside him.
Gryffen
OOC: Just a quick summary. If you wish to be a part of Sylva and the "bad guys" respond to this post IC stating who you are, your traits, and where you think you would be best placed. You will be given an assignment to test into your caste. There is more info under Kingdom Rules, make sure to give it a look. Consider this an open casting call as the kingdom will become invitation only after this. At the moment, all kingdoms are open game to steal and challenge from except Hyaline. If you have any questions, PM me =)
Her return to his group was swift. A decision met with action. She finds her place among the leaves quickly, unmoving and silent is she in the towering trees. Her harrowing gaze matches the dull orange/gold of the leaves scattered here, like the needles that scattered the Taiga's floor. The thought is shoved to the deepest corner of her mind just as quickly as it appeared. The taiga is no more.
As she stands single in the forest she allows her whispering mind to wander. It wanders first to the child- no... no the Children she had lost. Two foals who would never be, two missed opportunities to switch it all around. She snorts, the memories washed clean and replaced with more fresh occurrences. Gryffen had a kingdom again, and she planned to stay. No matter what it took.
If it is not the piercing cry that breaks its way through the forest, it is her own mind that causes her to seek him out. To be first to the gathering of hellhounds. They are a ragtag group, new and old alliances coming together to form one hellish lust for blood and victory.
He speaks to certain equines first. A command here, a question there. Yet all the while her gaze is not trained upon him, but it is trained upon that of her own reflection in the other's eyes. Gaunt, and hollow. She resembled the very twisting trees around them.
What a pity she had once been beautiful.
She allows the presence of the newcomers to swallow her form, she wishes to be unseen. Unnoticed as she had been. The lack of attention was her vantage point. Something she had used to her advantage often.
He speaks of his bird. The blue roan that was not to be touched. She was his right hand. The very beat in his bones.
Despite her lack of focus, she bows her head to the woman, a gesture of welcome.
Of respect.
As he gives his last commands he parts from them, her gaze following him blankly.
"And proud we shall make you,"
And she too is gone, curling tendrils dragging behind her.
He settles into Sylva's borders as well as can be expected for a man who has never desired to be in a herd. He knew it was only a matter of time before he wandered again, but decided to keep Sylva in the back of his mind as a "home" to rest his head in whenever he felt the need to. The dense orange trees kept him well-hidden, an attribute of the land he quite enjoyed, and he hoped he could make something of himself with the help of the wraith.
The king's call rings throughout the trees - demanding, authoritative. There is no question in his voice; he wants his kingdom there. The clown follows suit, twisting through the masses till he finds his place in the front of the line, icy eyes staring at Gryffen with anticipation. He grins at the thought that he could be rewarded for the efforts he was willing to give. When he mentions Thana as the new NightMother, he bows his head in her direction, a sign of respect.
And then, his own name is mentioned. Modicum straightens his body out, flicking his ears forward, full attention on the wraith.
"Kill that which causes their pain."
Kill. The word sends shivers of pleasure down Mortem's spine; a task he was more than willing to accomplish for the king. A twisted grin paints his ebony face, and he nods sharply.
I know I'm supposed to post IC but Ouija is otherwise engaged waiting on Kahzie to get back from VacA. But Ouija will return with hopefully Intel and probably a hoof up his booty. Also possibly a prisoner until she figures out his intentions, Reshi.
She follows the call readily, as if she had expected the wraith King to call them to his side again so soon after their wild success. Her steps are slow and lumbering, when she arrives the red-eyed beast is looking upon the group that has collected before him. They are an interesting assemblage - the blue roan (his precious bluebird), the gray mare who had stolen her kill, the irritating clown. Aditi's ears flutter backwards for a moment before Gryffen begins to speak, and then her attention is entirely on him, prepared for their leader to already have a plan formulated.
Gryffen is ambitious and bold - his vision of Sylva is a beautiful one. She finds herself intrigued and excited since her first meeting with Pollock in Pangea. Purpose, it's a wonderful thing.
Aditi's ears flutter and her brown eyes watch as the wraith King circles the group, running his shoulder along the wolf-mare's. She gives a terse nod to the NightMother, but Gryffen's speech draws her back as he begins to assign tasks. Hyaline. She had never heard of the territory, though she had spent much of her time hidden away since the Fairy's removal of Pangea.
Places to go, people to meet. She nods to Gryffen and falls in line behind him, her shoulder stinging from his bite.
09-26-2017, 10:39 AM (This post was last modified: 09-26-2017, 10:45 AM by Karaugh.)
This was her home. Always had been, always will be. Unlike the other few residents here she had put in the effort to call it home. It was only a matter of time before things changed. She knew this and her efforts to save it from corruption had failed. She passes the thought with a shrug of her shoulder. Her ambitions were to not sit on the throne anyhow. But aiding in those who seated upon it...
Swiftly she had left her cave, silver colt in tow. There was nothing left there for her guests so she had not worried they'd mingle long. The ghost had better things to do she was sure. The kingdom was more familiar to her than anyone who still remained so she crossed it effortlessly. With such a vast span of trees one could easily get lost. The ground was littered with fallings from above. When dried the crunching echoed under the canopy but today the moisture quieted her steps. Ebony traced ears listened for the sounds of the stags hoard. They would be gathering...
Traversing quickly the colt was strengthening with each step. Muscles flexed as joints bent. She stopped every so often for him to feed from her. Tongue wiping the dew from his coat as any dotting parent would do. Her eyes cast out into the sea of darkness surrounding them. Switching her vision to seek something she desired, blood.
Again she pushed forwards. Their destination a glowing light far off in the shadows. A smirk creased her lips as she saw it. Ears tipped forwards, "Come Kasanova. We are late."
She arrives on the outer edge of those gathered. Front and center is the reason for the disruption in her home. Catching mid sentence the announcement of his second in command. Her eyes narrow on each present. They do not impress her and surely none of these are who he speaks of. A pretty little stone mare speaks first, proud. She hackles the thought of her doing much damage to anything other than herself. The next she notices is familiar. The dark stag is summoned by Gryffen to do some dirty work. She simply grins in delight as her fangs pressure to be released upon him. Next time she would not stop until he is drained at her feet. Next time, she thinks. And the last gathered is nothing but a puppet on his strings. She remains unimpressed by those surrounding him. So with confidence she breaks through them...
She is not extremely tall but nevertheless her eyes look down on those surrounding her. An amused smirk on her ebony lips as auburn eyes meet the ghosts red glow. Just as she had met him the first time in Taiga she awaits no permissions. This is her home after all. Kasanova follows her in stride as she makes her way to the front, "I guess congratulations are in order again. You already know me and my...abilities but for those of you here who don't, I am Karaugh. Diplomat of the fallen Sylva." Her eyes remaining trained on him as he ends his tirade. He names off a few duties, "And what of me? Sylva is MY home and I have no intentions of leaving. Perhaps my diplomatic abilities can be of use to you, My King." She side steps to look to her son, their son. Bringing forth the result of their diplomatic meeting of Taiga. "I can travel again once our child is less reliant," she states simply, a grin creasing her lips. It was no fun taking a child on...visits.
Karaugh
illicit daughter of nymphetamine and killgore
HTML by Call
And of course my trait but that's on a need to know basis and... You all don't need to know >;]
Just a taste - that’s all he had. A taste of what was in store for those who decided to stay and Crevan, innocent as he still may be, had enjoyed the sample. It’s enough to entice him into lingering (loitering, really) near the heart of the kingdom long after his Dam has gone and his wounds have stitched clean. There are obstacles that draw him away at first - Jah-Lilah, his twin - but soon even they begin to lose their luster in his eyes. Crevan was so tired of the family dynamics he’d been born into. Youngest son, youngest wolf, blah blah blah.
Change was the most refreshing thing he could think of at a moment like this, and in a moment like this (when Gryffen’s call cuts through his midday muse) he decides that change is just the thing to satiate his wild thirst. Why refuse what was freely being offered? Rising on four paws, the wolf-who-never-wanted-to-be-horse shakes loose the clutter of Sylvian debris from his coat and bounds away to heed the request for his presence. Life was easier lived in this body, it fit him too well to cast off for trivial things, but he trades it halfway through the journey - if only for appearances sake. When he joins the throng of others, he’s a natural, true-born muddy champagne stallion with the shock of a navy mane and tail.
Just … normal.
Gryffen speaks and Crevan likes what he hears. To him, it’s as simple as that. Worthy? Check. A killer? That’s a laugh but, check. Dedicated to exploring the taboo? Why the hell not. It’s as simple as a nod here and there, and then one-by-one they move ahead to speak until, at last, it’s Crevan’s turn. “You’ve seen me in action.” He states briefly enough, not yet ready to feel the weight of the spotlight, “I run with wolves, play with fire, and fear no death.”
10-02-2017, 09:58 PM (This post was last modified: 10-02-2017, 09:58 PM by Voltage.)
Of Hamilton & Yasmine
The telepath makes his way to Sylva, trailing in the pale stallion's wake, in time to see him with a crowd present. Five or six other equines were positioned about Gryffen, their attentions all rested upon him as he spoke and issued commands. As naturally as breathing, Voltage slips invisible fingers into their minds, carefully and so gently, so as not to inflict any touch upon the group's inner thoughts. He merely wished to know their names, and only that. Getting to know them the usual old fashioned way would suffice for him, even though the bay found it to be a tedious activity compared to simply plucking any information he wanted from that gray matter hidden between a horse's ears. Gryffen indicates that the mare he is eying so lustfully is his second in command, and Voltage spares her a curious glance, brown eyes sweeping her from nose to tail in casual inspection.
He doesn't need to read her thoughts to know that she's a vicious one. It fairly glows in her eyes, that desire to maim and torture; he'll need to keep on her good side indeed. Voltage fears no one, but he has a deep love for his own skin, whole and unbattered. Whatever he had to do to keep it that way was fine with him. He adds his words to the conversation once Crevan has spoken, nodding to the wolfshifter that had been his companion-recruiter on the way out of the Field. "I'm known as Voltage, and I am a telepath.....I believe that the intelligence caste is therefore best suited for me. " The cremello stallion seemed to be heading elsewhere with the mare he had nipped, but is still close enough to be within earshot. Idly, Voltage wonders what his own assignment will be, since Sylva's new ruler seems to be handing one out to each of his newfound underlings.
She does not need to – his authority is enough to keep each of their wandering eyes to themselves; the very same bloodlust and desire for destruction that stirs her own heart into a frenzy lies within theirs, too. She can see the yearning in each of their gleaming pupils – dilated, as enthrallment and the awakening of darkness roils within their restless souls as if it were an opaque, tumultuous storm, threatening to covet what little light remained at the frayed edges of their mind.
Her own lips, dark and smooth, are twisted with a wry smile, though there is little humor within the pitchless black and the dreary gray of her two-toned stare – she is observant of each of their awkward twitches, their involuntary flinches, anxious - nervous, rife with anticipation for what may be in store. There is Loey, quivering with exhilaration, with a nod of acknowledgement given to her – of respect; Thana does not return it – Loey would prove to her in time as to whether she was worthy of it – would she sate the desires of Gryffen, of all he yearned his kingdom to be? She held promise.
Only time would tell.
Modicum Mortem does, as well – the darkness of his cheek turned downward in a show of reverence for the Nightmother – she is unflinching; her wicked smile lingering still across the impiety of her feminine features. There is a murmuring of murder upon his stagnant breath – has he known the illicit pleasure of ending another; of taking a life? His appetite has not yet been sated, and thus, hers has not been sated – she yearned for them each to know the delightful way in which bone and brain matter feel under their weight.
Her glowering stare is a warning: word alone would only carry him so far.
And then there is Aditi – a swell of darkness stirs inside of her empty, vacuous chest as Gryffen beckons her forth to accompany him – a small shred of envy occupying her small and pitiless heart, but Thana is aware that he only entrusted her with the kingdom he had coveted for so long, and so she is silent. Her gaze is heavy and piercing – and the curt nod of her head does not go unnoticed, though she is hard pressed not to sneer as her feminine, roundly pregnant body trails after Gryffen’s own.
Karaugh is foolish enough to think that Thana is not among the group – but she is always watching, moving quietly within the darkness of a shadow cast by dense foliage and a wayward, unforgiving sun. Karaugh is the only one to see past her, to see through her, and for that, she can see only weakness - her ego would inevitably be her downfall. For a quiet a moment, she cannot keep herself from contemplating how her tender, gilded skin might taste under her own – as her sharp, canine teeth puncture her flesh, and leave her gasping for air. It is fleeting – her reverie is interrupted by her incessant talking.
Crevan – she is curious, her interest piqued by his confidence and vigor. She would find him – she yearned to pry into his wickedly sharp mind, and pry she would. He, too, held promise.
At last, another unfamiliar face – Voltage, a telepath - oh, how the idea of his knowledge agitates her interest, luring her sordid curiosity to the surface as her wicked smile becomes one of fascination – the stories he could tell; she could only imagine what he might be able to retrieve from the darkest recess of one’s mind. She would find him, too.
Finally, her voice rises through the thick tension in the air, ”I am Thana. Let him down, and I will find you, and I will kill you.”
And then, as quietly and as quickly as she had come, she is gone.
