"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
02-22-2016, 10:24 AM (This post was last modified: 02-22-2016, 10:36 AM by Straia.)
i am the violence in the pouring rain
i am a hurricane
She calls to them, because the time for sitting and talking and waiting has come to an end. They would act, though not so obviously. Both Warship and Killdare had agreed. Bring their enemies to them. Turn their enemies in the monsters they pretend not to be. It was a beautiful plan, truthfully.
She’s standing above the Chamber’s heart, the fiery tree roaring just to the side of their meeting. As she calls to them, the magician arrives in a cloud of smoke, causing Straia to close her eyes against it for a moment. When the smoke clears, Evrae stands beside her, dressed in all black with flames licking at her feet.
Together, they wait for the members of the Chamber to arrive. When they are all there, Evrae shrouds the meeting in a blanket of secrecy. If Lagertha was so keen on being secretive, then Straia would simply have to play that game as well (granted the Amazonian magician hadn’t been seen in some time, but they did still have Yael). No prying eyes would see, and no prying ears would hear.
“It’s time to start and end this war, my friends,” she begins. All they do is talk and talk, and the other side talks and talks. “We have a plan,” she nods to Killdare and Warship as well. “We are going to bring the enemy to us. While I have no desire to destroy our home, we are stronger here, and can defend ourselves well between the forests and the ravens. And while most of Beqanna is trying to knock down our borders, Evrae will go and wreak some havoc on the rest of Beqanna. So even if we lose, so do they.” She knows that likely, the price of this war would be her crown. Their enemies would demand that she steps down, but she has no qualms with that. After this, it would be time for someone knew anyway. Someone to keep the Chamber powerful, but lead them through a time of rebuilding and peace. And that someone was not her.
She would help the Chamber bring Beqanna to its knees, one way or another, and then her time was done. “However, this means I need you all to steal and challenge. Target children and high-ranking horses of the Gates, Jungle, and Deserts. Piss them off, and get them to come here. In addition, Weaver will be going to the Gates to inform them that Fiasko has passed away.” Murdered, really, by her rape child. But Weaver has strict instructors to do her best to push the right buttons, giving away just the right details. Straia could go, but it seems more like an insult to send her child (though at the same time, it is a gift, for if anyone understands death, it is the Princess). If things went well, news of Fiasko’s death would bring the rest of Beqanna looking for revenge.
straia
the raven queen of the chamber
ooc | You don't need to reply, but you can, if you want. This is really just an informational meeting, but if you have ideas/suggestions to add to the plot, please feel free!
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission
no matter what we breed we still are made of greed
The Chamber is bustling with the shadow and shroud it calls life. It breathes a new darkness into the air, it stirs, now, as it ever did. He doesn’t dawdle, he never does, he never would. Killdare was a servant, this he knows, this he finds stability in- this and the Chamber herself. He does not want for family, she had given him one long ago, though just as she gave she too took. That is what was, that is what is. He does not want for food, for substance, though the grasses are tough at time he finds them edible. A little work, a few extra chews never hurt anyone.
Life He does not want for this, he had found life, just as she had breathed it into him that very day she sent Straia to the Fields. So much has changed since then, he has changed since that but it is all for the better if he had any say in the matter.
The bay comes when called, forsaking his feet for the very gifts which his realm had bestowed upon him. Snaring the winter winds on wings of a dragon, and ripping through the currents which bent to his will. Not through magic, he had never had any- through might. With each toned muscle he broke the way from here to there, the winds rushing violent beneath each rise and fall of scale. Howling with a fierceness to match the anger in his glassy-green eyes.
Robbed. Robbed by a coward one of his closest friends, one of his few friends, one of their own. A Chamberling, his kin though not tied through blood or sweat. He finds her there, the Queen, his Straia, turning his massive bulk to the ground and caressing it with a lack of delicacy. He made no attempt to hide the animosity that coiled in his stomach, growling to be set free and smite those that had wronged them.
With one last push of his wings, he momentarily snuffs the fire from the branches that flicker and crackle. Only a moment, for the fire returns in a blink, roaring to life with passion, with love for its own. He brings a single talon to his chest, above his heart where he separates hair, skin, flesh. A wound from which he catches his lifeblood, flicking it into the burning tree before he settles at Straia’s side and waits.
When it is done, when magic and words have met and meshed he nods. “Let us not disappoint,” He gruffs, looking to each member in turn, tracing the outlines of their faces and studying their eyes. “Straia, my family,” He indicates them all with a gesture of spread wing. “Dear princess Sidra will be staying the year with us, the lid has been loosed, make your names, let us waste not and want not.”
With that the dragon-lord has no more, simply a hardened look to Astri’s children. Something that seemed to speak without words, For your Mother, for our Family.
They arrive together, just like they always have. This time is different though, because they’re short one very green matriarch. Astri’s children have grown and they reflect their mother’s commitment to the Chamber by making themselves present and available. For now, that’s all they can do. Lupei leads, because now that Astri is gone he is wordlessly in charge. His blue-green body is followed closely by a black mistress, his sister to those who knew her shape. They are all that is left of Astri in this world. The shifter pulls up to a stop and keeps his eyes on Straia, fearing that should his mind wander so will his rage (a very present emotion that simmers just beneath his skin and pools in his eyes.) “There will be time for blood, just as there’s a time for everything,” Dacia had told him after the news of their mother’s death had brought him to his knees. “But that time isn’t now.”
It was true. From what she had described of the pale stallion who’d killed their mother, even the two of them working in perfect tandem couldn’t hope to overcome him. Magic in its physical form was powerful, but Magic in its mental form was nearly impossible to defeat unless they had the right tools. Lupei believed that the Chamber would help them seek their revenge, but Straia had to have good reason and the Chamber had to recognize them both as worthy. This war left enough room for even the most insignificant horse to become a legend. Lupei lets his eyes stray to Dacia, and he sees his thoughts and emotions reflected in her unwavering glare.
A time for everything, Dacia. And that time begins now.
Killdare has come, and with his bloodshed the gates of chaos have been opened. Dacia’s eyes are focused on the Chamber Lord, and Lupei’s eyes are on his sibling. “No time to waste, sister.” He whispers before turning away to leave her. He had work to do.
It has been nearly a full year since she has graced the presence of the Chamberlings but she knows that Straia has known - the ravens tell all - she has been in the shadows with the twin children that hang loosely behind her. A colt and filly, one black and already showing kinship to his father, Warship and the other well, she got a wild gene somewhere. Kimber is quiet for the time being watching a few members crowd in, the war had been talk for over two years and at some point it had become to talked about that she wondered if it were ever going to happen.
"This is great news to hear upon my return from the shadows, I'll be waiting for your call," she says, hanging back but never really going unnoticed. You can't miss a blue horse no matter how hard you might try to.
He hasn’t been spending much time in the Chamber lately, not since his mother’s death. He hasn’t actually been avoiding it (in fact the place feels even more welcome to him now that she’s gone), he’s simply become so caught up in the business of his herd that he’s had little time for the place. In a short time his little herd has expanded to five mares, four of which are now pregnant with his children. He’s more than a little pleased.
But he really does need to stop neglecting the Chamber. And it appears he has returned just in time.
As he walks over the border the queen’s voice rings out, calling them all to a meeting. And what a meeting it is.
He can’t help but grin when she reveals that they are finally going to act, finally going to push the Gates to the point of war. They’ve been building up to this for so long, and he cannot wait to help crush the Gates beneath the Chamber’s might.
He nods in agreement as she asks them to steal and challenge and his smile widens just a little when she mentions his mother’s passing. So glad he could help in hurrying along the war. He keeps his mouth shut on that matter though - Straia and her ravens likely already know of his involvement - but he does decide to make mention of his little apprentice. “I’ve recently acquired a useful little weapon - a bear shifter that I’ve been training. I think he will be very useful in this fight.” He doubts Siberian will enjoy being used as a weapon, but the boy has already crossed the point of no return with his role in Fiasko’s death. He’s in this whether he wants to be or not.
