"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
02-27-2016, 03:40 AM (This post was last modified: 02-27-2016, 09:28 AM by demian.)
YOU WANT TO SUCCEED YOU HAVE TO TRY. OR ONE DAY YOU'LL GET OLDER AND REGRET IT ALL CAUSE YOU CAN'T PROVIDE. YOUR FRIENDS ARE LOW-LIVES DON'T ACT SURPRISED. LOOK, JUST CUT THE BAD FRUIT OFF OF THE TREE, MAKE THE SACRIFICE.
He's rounded them up, shouts of encouragement driving them to follow. Sleek promises of a kingdom unprotected, of passable barriers, of an easy take over. And now he is leading them. The once king of heavens gates. Centuries older than most. Resurrected to do his part in the war. His short time on top, in the land of the living and Eight's magic have rebuilt his muscles thickly and a golden stallion of stocky build leads the group, bone wings resting at his sides calmly. He leads them in silence, sneaking them through the twisting trees avoiding pathways to stay undetected.
Is only when they reach a break in the woods that he stops, staring at the the towering pines that filled the valleys border. The scent of the ocean and pines hung heavily in the air as he turns back to look at them. "Are you ready?" His voice is barely a whisper, loud enough to be heard and he feels the glowing infinity sign Eight had masked for him to prevent being detected pulse gently in his flesh. Turning back to face the border he counts quietly. "1..." Silence. "2..." Silence. "Charge!" He is running then, legs churning as his ears pin flat against his head, hooves digging sharply into the soft earth. It takes only minutes, but he soon reaches the border, a battle cry escaping his throat and slipping through his parted lips.
Soon though the group following would realize that it wasn't intended for them, but rather those on the Chambers side hiding within the trees. It is then he hears the quiet gutteral growls and sees their eyes a short distance away.
The wolves were coming out to play and as he continues to run he passes through two of the pack, their pelts a dark silky gray. He catches the eye of the larger one to his right and that is when he yells once more. "Kill them!" His command is to the wolves, and he knows they will listen. His heart is racing with excitement. This was the most fun he'd had in decades, his sacrifice to Eight had definitely been made worth it.
Quickly the wolves begin to emerge, their sleek bodies racing through the trees towards the group and he slides to a stop, turning to watch the chaos that would surely soon follow. He takes a deep breath once more releases one final battle cry to the chamberlings and dwellers of the valley before running back towards the group and turning towards the one closest to him. He is moving quickly, legs churning beneath him until finally he is close enough and then he leans back on his haunches his front legs lifting into a rear before striking out with his left leg, trying to meet their fleshy shoulder with a sharp hoof. It is only when he lands once more, all four feet on the ground that he turns, neck snaking out as he bares his teeth. He snaps then, trying to make contact with the flesh behind their shoulder hoping take a nice chuck out of the vulnerable flesh before darting back quickly and to the left, trying to position himself once more for another attack.
Once a traitor. Always a traitor.
Isn't that how the saying goes?
Zuclopenthixol.
Ooc:
1. feel free to join in. Because omg the dramz.
2. feel free to write all about how your pony came across Zuclopenthixol and came to join the group. Write his speech of convincing them to join, write about your pony lying in wait for the approaching gates ponies, etc. Write about whatever you want. These are just ideas to help muse and start your post and permission to use him in your post about joining him and following him into the trap.
What's happening:
(I'm leading my ancient pony against my other ancient ponies kingdom. Lawd.)
Zuclo has gathered a group of gates ponies to lead them to the valley to try and cause chaos.
His traitor like mind can not be detected (even by magic) as he is protected by eight's own magic.
His infinity sign on his chest can't be seen by anyone, Eight cloaked it.
He leads the Gate sided pony's towards the Valley and starts them off by charging at the Valley.
Zuclopenthixol lets out a warcry, but it is unknowingly not for the Gates ponies, it is to alert the chamberlings and valley dwellers he has brought the fight to them.
The wolves are sent out to attack the approaching crowd.
Wolves are reinforced with steel and quick healing (By Eight).
Barrier is only here to protect the valley from destruction and protect the spirit and revive dead/dying wolves. (i assume if killed they'd stay dead for a few hours? maybe days? I mean play it how you want. :|)
Zuclopenthixol turns around and reveals himself a traitor and attacks the closest pony to him.
02-27-2016, 12:05 PM (This post was last modified: 02-27-2016, 12:10 PM by Kult.)
KULT
dead i am the one,exterminating son
Wait… Kirin said to go and to wait, so he does.
The Valley has made them welcome, opening themselves to those that are faithful. Kult knows a thing or two about faithfulness, it’s something his known all his life. His long and short again life. Potion has worked her magic, kept him young and agile and strong. It’s a unique gift, a token of appreciation not from her, it is from Kirin.
The shadows are nice here, almost playful, curling around him as he waits like he’s told. The wolves here are fun, he should have played with them before but they will play now – oh yes, they would have their game.
Wait
It’s not uncomfortable for him to be so still, nor does it bother him to stand in silence. Kult is for the most part, a silent creature, his words come few when they do come at all. It's there that he waits when the parade of flesh barges through the Valley's entrance trailing the heels of a bone-winged palomino. The wolves dart from the bushes, melt into being from the blackness and the hunt is on.
There’s at least one rose-gray stallion in their midst, one ear missing, a white ‘X’ emblazoned plainly where his forelock would rest. His head is slung low, more level to the dogs than any other horse’s might find itself, his legs pump furiously as he smiles crooked pleasure for the chase.
He doesn’t know who thirsts more for bloodshed, himself, or the shadow-wolves he tails when they take down the first unlucky Gates horse. As they fell the unworthy, he is there-wielding his hooves into its skull. Kult doesn’t speak wolf but their snarls and growls provoke his own madness and to the next victim he follows…
-Khaos and Killgore's wicked whelp-
tl;dr- kult waits for zuclo with the shadow wolves - kills a rando gates member with said wolves and then follows them to the next victim >:D
Being a rebellious teenager had it's drawbacks, Evolet would find that out soon enough.
She had no business following that line of soldiers from the Gates but the pale stallion was so convincing. He had a charming way of words, he said they could avenge their home, he said they could win if they stuck together. He said many things, he lied.
Like many others, the young girl had not caught wind of the deception until it was too late. The wave of wolves was first to come, beasts as dark as night. Evolet just knew they were the things of nightmares, her mind told her so. Thin legs pumped as she fled, running blind into the wood cover, heart racing madly.
If only she had listened to the others, if only she had not snuck away behind their backs into what was surely her demise.
Hot tears leaked down her sooty face ,leaving trails down her cheeks, from her mouth came shrill cries but if she knew better- she would have been as silent as the grave.
watch your tongue or have it cut from your head, save your life by keeping whispers unsaid.
The air was thick with bloodlust, various parts of the land tainted with a crimson trail as the many mourn their loved ones and avenge their untimely ends. The inescapable frigidity of winter had since descended, as brutal as the war that waged on, many deciduous trees now barren with their spindly, winding branches exposed and naked to the eye. Autumn had been a dry one, with nary a single drop of rain having fallen since it had begun. The air was often thick with humidity, moist and suffocating, and now seemingly overnight it was now fraught with ice. His mouth felt dry and his lungs felt as if they themselves were coated in a sheen of frost, but the heat of his churning, pounding heart kept his blood thick.
He had kept himself at bay; he was not built of what warriors were made of - though he was nary something to scoff at. At nearly seventeen hands tall, with his four unusual forelegs and two hindlegs unusually angled and tainted by their eerie appearance and his dark, unwavering gaze, he was a formidable force unto himself. He more often preferred intimidation, as his visual impact was often enough to frighten anyone in his midst, but too much blood had been spilt -too much violence had risen. The lives of his brothers and sisters were threatened, and no one and nothing was safe from the inevitable carnage. He no longer could remain the neutral diplomat. There was a war to be fought.
He had not denied himself the opportunity to protect his dwelling, his home when Zuclopenthixol had uttered his unorthodox, nearly flawless plan. Though he had tried to remain at the sidelines, he knew what had to be done, and what better way to justify senseless murder than with a war brought to his own land?
And so he waited, cloaked by the shadows of the darkened skies and the thick, snow capped foliage that sheltered him. A chill coursed through his vertebrae as he lie in wait, his breath a warm puff amidst the icy air. He listens, a distant warcry telling him of the bloodshed to come, and he rises - his thick wings of critlin raise him above the pines, his dark compound eyes searching through the shadows for movement. He hears it long before he sees it - the rustling of a panicked, frightened dappled female as she darts through the lingering fog, desperate to find solace and safety in the brush. Evolet, though he would likely never come to know her name.
He rises higher, his thick but flattened wings moving with an unearthly speed. He sweeps in, brushing the tops of the pines with his spindly legs, an anxiety growing deep within the pit of his belly as he follows her, surrounds her, circles her. At last, she arrives at the clearing - the briefest of reprieves from the otherwise unwelcoming darkness of the woods - and that is when he seizes his moment. He drops suddenly, his four forelegs outstretched towards the ground as he propels himself at her from the sky, his weight falling with immense force as he makes contact with her curving spine. His wings spread in the last moment, slowing his fall incrementally as he bears down on her with his own weight, crushing her into the soft soil below. His six limbs can feel her spine curve and shatter beneath the impact of his dead weight, and he revels in the way she squeals and gasps out in breathless pain. She recoils beneath him, fragile and unable to move, paralyzed by the force of his attack.
He can see the terror and torture in her eyes as she lies still, helpless and terrified, and he thinks for a moment on his impending fatherhood - the small mass of life that lingers and grows within Speck's belly. He thinks of how it would be to have his own daughter, to see such fright in her own eyes - and for a moment, a pang of restlessness throbs within his chest. He hesitates no more. He takes her out of her misery in four solid movements, compounding his unusually sharp talon-like hooves into her flesh and skull as he ends her life, her blood dribbling thickly down the length of his legs as it splatters up onto him.
He knows not her name; only her identity as the enemy. His gaze pieces together fragments of her now shattered cranium, studying her lifeless body for a long moment before he takes flight again. Death is the very price of war, and though he has to remind himself that she is an intruder on the land he shares with many, he cannot shake the uneasiness that follows a first kill.
elysium
no mercy from the edge of the blade, dare escape and learn the price to be paid.
TLDR;
Elysium hides in the trees; hears the warcry and takes to the air.
He waits for Evolet to hit a small clearing before swooping down and crushing her with his weight and the force of his drop.
He crushes her skull by stomping on her with his four front legs in intervals.
He then takes to the sky to attack again.
03-02-2016, 03:40 AM (This post was last modified: 03-02-2016, 03:41 AM by Rhynn.)
she slept with wolves without fear
She does not know of Eight’s plan, but she does know the moment intruders cross over the kingdom’s borders. She’s kept a few of her own shadow wolves hidden amongst the Valley’s beasts, keeping an eye both on the borders, and on the strange creatures themselves.
She watches through her wolves’ eyes as members of the Gates charge over the border, full of fury and yelling war cries at the top of their longs.
Foolish, foolish creatures.
This fight will not be long.
She slips into the trees along the edge of the battle, watching as their ‘leader’ turns on them, as a very odd looking Valley stallion crushes the skull of a young purple tipped Gates mare. Rhynn is usually not one for open warfare, but she can’t help but join in. She might as well practice the offensive side of her abilities, after all.
Shadow creatures leap from the ground at her feet - wolves, wildcats, a myriad of little birds and rodents, and even a bear - and join the battle. As for herself, she cloaks herself in shadow, making herself invisible to at least the average eye and settles in to watch the fun. It will be interesting to see what her creatures are capable of - she’s only ever used them to collect information before, not to fight.
for the wolves knew a lion was among them
rhynn
Rhynn creates shadow wolves, wildcats, rodents, snakes, and a bear. Do with them what you will.
03-02-2016, 11:42 PM (This post was last modified: 03-02-2016, 11:48 PM by Pride88.)
Don't ask me why I have muse for this one/ where the muse came from....yes i know it's march
Merry Christmas You Filthy Animal
The green mare didn't come out often. She held herself away in seclusion. Usually all the happiness and laughing and skipping and playing that the others frolicked about with was enough to make the mare nauseous. How her parents ended up together he would never know. The crazed Pillbox hadn't really been a mother and she heard her father was some overly happy winter wonder pony. barf. She obviously took after her mother. So the war, the glorious war had made her look down upon the lands she observed from afar. the sounds had changed and the air was full of chaos. The green mare with the crazed eyes curled her mouth into a smile. Wicked and mad she laughed and pranced as the fires roared, and kingdoms burned. Now, this she could play with, this she could make a visit for.
Red mane sprawled out around her she flew down her lonely mountain. The air changed as she made her way down warming and the air got thicker. She didn't know what she would find but she ould enjoy spreading havoc while she could.
She fed off the energy chaos, the blood and murder. her eyes grew more crazed. more jittery. more violent. She made it to the Valley before too long nd tore into the first thing she sees, a small colt, that must have been left "in hiding." Slaybell cackled with glee as the metallic liquid splattered. She moved further into the kingdom, not really knowing where it would lead her. But she found others... of course, she looks for her next victim. alliance or side didn't matter, she only knew she wanted to see the spray of read once again fly through the air. Yes. Slaybell needed the arch of red droplets, and she would have them again.
Cackling and obviously a little mad she laughs and speaks in a sing-song voice, "Again, again!" The fact it was a life that was taken that gave her joy didn't matter. It meant nothing to the red and green mare, they didn't call her the Christmas Bitch for no reason.
Slaybell
The Evil Christmas Bitch
tldr: Slaybell came down from her mountain and joined, killed some rando colt when she entered the valley. and now wants to kill again b/c she is fascinated with the blood spatter. SHe isnt' affiliated with either side. so she'll attack any and all. She'll Kill if anyone wants, she can be seriously injured after some interactions, just don't killer her.
<3 I don't have an account for her. so I'll just use my OOC for now.
The war was sudden. Sahm had been dozing off within the safety of the Gates when the smell of lingering smoke woke him up. As soon as his eyes opened he could feel the heat radiating against his skin, and sweat began to pour from him. He inhaled deeply and the fiery smell shocked his senses into action. Originally Sahm ran to the tree. He stopped yards from the flurry of action and watched as a magician and another horse put out the flames. He was about to run up to the two horses when suddenly another, blue stallion, stepped into the scene. The shock simply locked Sahm in place, and he stood and stared. His dad was standing before him, and he couldn’t even manage a step. Soon the chaotic scene diminished, and the horses lift.
Sahm didn’t know what to do until a palomino stranger with clicking wings approached him. He introduced himself and managed to spur Sahm from stupor to anger. The Gates had been attacked, and he needed to take action! Zuclo was sleek and a spinster with words. He promised that the Valley would be for the taking, and Sahm with his mind filled with ignorance and blinding fury followed. Sahm wove himself quietly through the trees. He followed in step with Zuclo. He had full trust in the stranger- and he was thoroughly convinced in his vigilante goal. When the stallion counted down to the charge Sahm could feel his body begin to pulse with adrenaline. Every muscle in his body stirred, and he managed to take a quick deep breath before the alarming scream of “charge”.
Quickly Sahm stepped from his position and threw his body forward into the fray. He noticed the wolves first, and he managed to weave through two only to be caught by the third. His back left leg halted. He screamed, and pulled his leg forward to then snap it back. Success! He made contact with the wolf’s throat which loosened the grip it held on him. Sahm continued to run behind Zuclo when without warning his quick-stranger-confidant turned and rose. Sahm froze again (Something he was good at) and simply caught the full weight of Zuclo’s kick and impact. Sahm’s body collapsed beneath the hit which had made contact on the upper part of his shoulder.
Blood now oozed from a large, gapping wound on his shoulder. Sahm attempted to regain his line of sight by blinking several times, but Zuclo’s hooves lower with more force. He lets out a loud wince, and he hears a loud cracking noise echo from his ribs. Sahm knee deep in injuries scratches at the dirt beneath him until he is able to rise from his position. His head hangs low and he shuffles away until a snake made of shadow and mist wraps itself around his front hooves and forces him back onto the ground. It now becomes clear to Sahm he is poorly outnumbered.
(Sorry- this is super late, due to laziness, sickness, etc: Due to fluid timeline this happened definitely during the war xD—and sorry for change in tense. I die. Whoever posts next gets the great chance to powerplay his death if you’d like. Jason will come and revive him and thus be giving up his magic. So you’d be officially taking out my favorite character *tear* >.>)
