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  • Beqanna

    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


    I'm in the details with the devil [team purplehiney]
    #1
    Kirin
    that girl is a real crowd pleaser
    This day had been on the tip of his tongue for the last couple of days, leaving behind the sweet taste of anticipation. It was a heavy texture, suspenseful and exhilarating and it was almost as good as successful itself, almost, but not quite. Nothing could replace that tang, nothing but sex and sweat and control. Kirin was a simple man to please really, you just had to know what he wanted.

    Basically, everything.

    He was tired to be truthful, tired but his energy was well spent. It would be himself he could thank, having put in the time to find them, scoop them up one by one (three by three in some cases). In return they would have a home, a place to retreat to when the day was done and their games were at an end. It would be somewhere they could raise their young, trap their trophies and plot in piece for their future. It was to be an ambitious bunch to be sure, he could eat their desires by spoonfuls they were so thick.

    They were perfect.

    Thus their perfect bodies would make quite the impression, finding the borders of the island herd and breaching them. Kirin could have flown of course but he walked with the others, reveling in the salt water that soaked his legs as the path opened up at low tide. It reminded him of home, the brine an unforgettable smell was a pleasant addition to his own scent. Kirin was pleased to be smelling like himself again, his skin ached for beaches and sand and so it was no surprise to find him on Ischia threshold- disciples at his sides.

    What do you need me to do? they asked, always asking and though they perceived themselves as the power he rode on they always needed telling. That’s how Kirin liked it, he had worked hard to be at the top of the food chain and he would not easily come tumbling down it. I need you to take something, he would say and he knew that simple instruction was more than sufficient to get the ball rolling.

    “Welcome to your new home,” he revealed, pressing their line into the very heart of the island.
    small world all her friends know me
    HTML by Call


    greetings ischia, Kirin has come to be your new Queen
    take over attempt discussed with Cassi via PM
    he will be using 50 of his own points
    bringing with him Misra, Callbear, Vengeling, Sidlet, Venom, Virus, Wicked, and Deathwish
    Any other team purple hineys please feel free to join this is simply who points were acquired with ( i think Ribcage is supposed to be in this group somewhere )
    We can assume Potion as well as Ecco are here too but I wont be counting points for recruiting myself :p

    calls point tracker link
    mountain;nicia,potion 2 pt
    forest w/ nicia 2 pts
    forest;misra 4 pt +5 for recruit
    forest;triplets 2 pt +5 for recruit
    forest;deathwish 2pt +5 for recruit
    forest;venom & virus, wicked 2 pt +5 for recruit
    meadow;ribcage 2 pt

    kirin 36 pts
    donate from ooc 10 pts
    donate from potion/ecco 10 pts
    total 56 pts
    Reply
    #2
    censored censored censrored
    ASHLEY

    To his credit he never expected the fabulosity of Kirin and his coven to embark upon the journey toward Ischia. In the summer months that never seemed to end here, Ashley had gone into a peace that meant he was safe from the tangles of mainland politics. He did not bother them, they did not bother him. He had his own entanglements with things that went here underneath the watch of his island—the one that Ea was still technically in charge of—but he watched his family grow and change and add, until they were at peace. His children were here, all 4 of them, and he enjoyed them in ways he never knew was possible. And then—that was when they came.

    Like a stormcloud, shadow and heavy, they lined the beaches—his beaches—as if they owned the place. And when the lilac covered Pegasus spoke to his brood and welcomed them to their new home, the ginger man knew this was not a normal day at the beach.

    Thick tightly knit muscles wove their way through his chest and back, and his dark wings hung tightly to his curved shoulder as he made his way to them, spotting out the older man, leveling his gaze with the low burning of his amber eyes. They seemed to swirl and glow with power, and as Ashley kicked up a layer of sand, he willed them stand their ground. No one would pass beyond the beaches. His voice echoes through, and his chest rumbles his displeasure.

    He is not used to being caught unawares.

    “What is the meaning of this?”
    and the girls caressed me down ughhh that's that lovin' sound
    HTML by Call
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    #3
    now you're staring at a queen.
    She is in another world.
    She and Ramiel are together, and the twins: beautiful. Complete.
    An escape.
    For years she had feigned happiness - she loved Sabrael, of course, and Ischia and the family that had followed her there, but there was an emptiness inside of her left by Ramiel and her two oldest children. Those she trusted most after the end of the world - Phaedrus and Tiphon - quickly fell away as well, and instead of stepping up in their absence like she would have in the Dale, she shrunk.
    And then he found her, and he restored her.
    He wasn’t the same - she wasn’t, either - but just knowing he was alive and still loved her brought Ea back from the dead.

    Allure sticks closely to Ea’s side. The red girl is bright and quiet, much like Ea was as a child, but not as serious. Her twin, Grimdark - the spitting image of Ea - comes and goes as he pleases, much like his father. Ea’s lax parenting style encourages his independence. There are only so many places he could cause trouble on the island, anyway.
    In the distance, an alarming amount of newcomers crossing over onto the island catches her eye.
    “Come,” she whispers to Allure.
    By the time she reaches them, Ashley has joined. Of course he had stayed.
    His voice is strong, firm. Unwelcoming. Ischia had always been a place for families - Ea’s, Tiphon’s, Ashley’s, Wallace’s. A place they chose to escape the chaos of the new Beqanna. She did not trust these newcomers to keep their peace.

    “I am Ea,” she says, coldly and calm, tucking Allure by her side and taking her place next to Ashley. “Who are you?”
    Reply
    #4
    Beqanna has not been petitioned for points and explicit IC joining of the team is required for each recruit.
    All horses posted to this thread have had their memories wiped of this particular encounter.
    Reply
    #5
    This is granted.

    To be clear, you should always have explicit permission when posting a raid (or anything else) from an owner. Please do not assume. We apologize for any miscommunication, but going forward, be aware that you will be required to have a direct “Yes, this is okay” from an owner before proceeding,

    Beqanna still technically has to be petitioned, meaning, the officers/owners need a chance to review the points, the players/horses on the team, ensure everything has been done IC, etc. Just to give you an idea, it took me 20 minutes to go through the points tracker and confirm team members, which doesn’t seem like much, but we cannot always drop our lives for 20 minutes without notice. The officers/owners had no warning when this was going up, and no ability to confirm that this raid was valid. Again, we know there was miscommunication, but please understand this is why it was stopped for a time, so we were able to assess the situation and move forward from there.

    We also understand the need for surprise and that posting this on the Mountain may not make sense, and we could certainly work out something OOC to review the points before a raid is posted.  

    Given that Ea has posted, voting will take place to determine the next ruler. We will post a poll for official voting, but this can and should be carried out IC. The poll is to help owners/officers. The voting rules are:

    1) Characters that are played together may only have one vote total. Since they essentially operate as one entity, it is fair for them to be treated as such in a vote as well.
    2) If your character has not posted in the last month either in Ischia or as part of Kirin’s team, they are not eligible to vote (you must have posted since Feb 24th, and we will confirm this).
    3) When voting, please make sure you vote from the appropriate character account.

    Any vote that doesn’t follow these rules will be deleted. We are enforcing this rule so only characters that have contributed IC to this plot, or who would logically be there to contribute when Kirin invades, have a say in the final outcome in order to ensure fairness.

    No memories have been wiped.
    Reply
    #6
    POTION & ECCO
    They flank him, always at his sides, perfection of their family values made tangible. It began with retrieving their powers, they needed them back to bring Kirin down into the remake of this new world. To construct a solid base on which their family was to stand, Kirin had done it first in the Cove but now they made good on returning the favor. Potion’s task, the very purpose of her birth, was to keep them young and beautiful. Kirin would not come down without the lines from his fair face removed, the ache in his aging bones relieved.

    She had done it though, harnessed her birthright once more and led them down the magic slopes of the Mountain that split the sky.

    The next step was building their ranks, gathering those that could be made loyal and keeping them tucked into their small, secluded part of the forest. Some had to be groomed, most did not need but a gentle nudge in the right direction. Kirin had a way with coercion and Potion was proving herself almost equally adept at such tasks.

    That's when Kirin had instructed her to take the triplets from Kirke. She needed consequences, they needed their bloodlines, and the silvery grey woman had performed without question- such was their way.

    Standing at his side's now, two identical silver statues, with silky lavender hair they brought a quiet beauty to his bold flair. Where his silver eyes burned and flashed, their lavender orbs pierced with a calm, ethereal presence. The residents filter out, they expected no less and Ecco smiles, her talents biting at the very bit of her grasp. Potion is still, poised when they present themselves. Her pale eyes nonchalantly take in the surrounding from her current vantage point.

    “I believe our intent is quite clear,” she calmly divulged, finding the face of the ginger haired male, as of to answer him directly. There was no malice there, there never had been, Potion performed with a simple certainty.

    She had been raised to do so.
    dont you open up that window, dont you let out that antidote
    HTML by Call
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    #7
    Misra
    i'd go to hell and back with you; stay lost in what we've found.
       The sun is overbearing, its unabashed sheen of light blinding to the eye and unforgiving - the humidity is faint, yet still ever present, gently draping itself over the silver lining of her skin. Beneath her, the pale particles of sand shift, and with a deep and heavy exhalation of the heavy air, long buried memories begin to come to the surface - moving with the ebb and flow of the rising tide. It is not the silver painted cove, nestled safely against the breast of the mainland, but it is bright - vivid; unabashedly vibrant - and a longing emerges within the core of her chest. A longing for something tangible, for soft, fertile soil to place roots into. A place to call her own, their own, beneath the cradling, tropical canopy.

       She is quiet; an unwavering but silent presence - the finely preened feathers along the hollowed out bones of her appendages gently brushing along the lavender skin of the one she would follow anywhere, to any means necessary. Her teeth touch lightly to the hardened ridge of his shoulder (a wordless reassurance; though he needed none at all). Tucking her wings tightly against the feminine curve of her body, her dark, endless gaze searches the dense thicket. Her heart thuds uncomfortably against the rigid confines of its iron cage, breath caught in the tightness of her throat as one finally moves forward - broad, handsome, guarded and painted in gold, with searing amber eyes.

       He is a sight to behold, with a rumbling, whiskey-laced baritone.

        What is the meaning of this?
        The faintest of smiles tugs at the corners of her mouth; he had little idea of what trouble stood before him - and she can hardly withhold the amusement bubbling up within her. 

       Soon, another emerges - she is delicate, at least comparatively to the stallion beside her, with russet, dappled skin and a stern, hardened expression (she could hardly fault her for the displeasure sewn into her cold tone). Her dark eyes study the child nestled close to her side, though her attention is soon drawn away by the serene, calculating voice of Kirin's own daughter.

        I believe our intent is quite clear - 

       "Ischia has been quiet long enough; we have come to take from you what you have neglected." Her voice is soft, but cannot be mistaken for meek - her words directed towards Ea alone. "My name is Misra." She searches Ashley's hardened, amber stare again, boring into him as he did unto them - a smile hidden within the golden flecks of her eyes. "You should stay."
    worlds apart, we were the same until we hit the ground.
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    #8
    Vida, unlike other horses of Beqanna, did not possess any supernatural or special gifts of her own. However, she seemed to tell when something wasn't right in her home, which was the case today. The island of Ischia was changing, and not in a good way. An unsettling feeling planted itself in Vida's gut, and an ominous air surrounded her, as if the island itself was trying to warn her of impending negative circumstances.

    The grulla was greatly unsettled, but knew that her companions and friends, the other residents of Ischia, could handle whatever was thrown their way. Though they did not engage in many matters concerning the mainland of Beqanna, the ones who lived on the island were trained to fight and defend their home. That was how Vida occupied much of her time when she was not grazing; she trained and honed her battle skills, whether here or back on the battlefield on the mainland, patrolled the borders to make sure no unwanted guests were trying to sneak in, and checking over the island to make sure it was healthy.

    After all, Ischia provided its residents with a great amount in order to keep them alive. The least Vida could do was make sure her home was also staying in good shape, enough so to keep it alive, strong, and able to continue hosting the horses that lived here.

    But, even with the training she underwent daily, Vida couldn't have expected a turn like this. On the morning a great change was to come, the grulla mare was out grazing on one of the far beaches of the island's coast, heading out to the open ocean rather than in the direction of the mainland. A gentle breeze had settled in over the island, spraying water from the crashing waves a few feet away from the mare. Her coat was dusted with a light layer of the ocean water, creating an appaloosa pattern on her otherwise plain coat. Her mane and tail were also dusted with a light sheen, causing them to glisten an even richer shade of black when the sun caught them.

    The weather changed to suddenly that Vida feared the worst for a moment; was there another change blooming on the horizon? Had another horse upset the land's balance, and now Beqanna would change again? The ocean tides seemed to turn and blasted a violent wave toward the mare, who was already well within a safety zone but still felt a shiver run down her spine from what just happened. She could sense something wrong in the air; what was happening to her beloved home?

    A gut instinct burning within the mare seemed to be pulling her towards the heart of Ischia's territory; the line where the sandy beaches met jungle forest out by the path that connected Ischia with the mainland at low tide. Not wanting to waste time, the mare rapidly turned around and galloped hard toward the southwest end of the island, wanting to know who was here, threatening Ischia and its inhabitants.

    It was a bit of a journey, but Vida's lithe, athletic body and muscled, toned legs propelled her over the ground with little effort. She eventually reached the coast, sliding to a brief stop and surveying what lay beneath her as she caught her breath.

    The tide had already started coming back in, meaning that whatever threat had presented itself was already here. Vida noticed the small change in the ocean, how the waves seemed a bit more angry, but all that focus was soon directed down at the group of horses at the territory line. She could easily pick apart those who were on Ischia's side, and those who were not. What did they want with the island? How dare they think they could come here and threaten its residents!

    Even if Vida did not know all the facts, she would not waste time. The mare galloped down the small ridge, her eyes scanning the horses again. Those on Ischia's side included Ashley, the buckskin stallion, Ea, the silver bay roan and current leader, and Allure, a red filly and Ea's foal. Including Vida herself, but not counting the filly as she was still young, that made three ready to defend Ischia's peace.

    On the other side were a wide variety of horses; a purple stallion with wings who seemed to be the leader; two gray mares with lavender points, one of whom had spoken to Ashley it seemed; and a black mare with wings, who directed the words Vida overheard toward Ea before telling Ashley he should stay.

    Stay... stay?! That one word implied everything for Vida; these horses were here to take their beautiful island home away from them. There was no way in hell that the grulla was going down without a fight, not after all the crap she'd been through to find a home in Beqanna's former coastal region before the changes happened and Ischia was formed.

    While there were very few horses she called friends, those of Ischia were among the privileged. They provided her with enough comfort that she did not feel alone, even if she didn't trust them enough with the darkness lurking in her heart. It was enough that she felt obligated to protect them, and her home, with her life if need be.

    Vida skidded to a stop once more when she reached the sand beaches, kicking up a wave in the process. She moved to stand near Ea, ready to protect the leader. Narrowing her eyes at the black mare who dared threaten Ischia's peace, Vida pinned her ears, her nostrils flared in rage. Muscles tense, mane falling over both sides of her neck, the mare pawed at the ground with a hoof, daring the other to make a move of aggression.

    Though the only enemy she outranked in height was the black one, the other three did not intimidate her. She was set on protecting her home. She barked a challenge back at the black mare, "You dare come here and threaten to take our home away? You are but fools; we will not allow you to take our home from us if all you imply is practices of violence. Ischia is an island for peace, and we will not allow you to taint it with the blackness of your hearts."
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    #9

    “Who?” Lilin looks at him, what skepticism he cannot see is heavy in her voice. (Woven and Rake exchange curious looks, but remain silent.)
    “His name is Kirin. He’s… related to Killdare. You remember him?”

    “...sort of...” Lilin had been there, still wet and wobbly, when mother had presented the eyeless wonder for Killdare to gawk at. Lilin had remained tucked into the warmth of mother’s groin, hiding from those big, leathery wings. Ribcage had not let her come with him after the war to see Killdare as a king; soon thereafter, Ribcage had sequestered them all in a dank cave and paced after ghosts…

    “Well. He has a home. Or… he has his eyes on one.” Ribcage stills, dropping his great, square head, breathing deeply, “the weight of looking after you is heavy. We need to go where there is an army to stand between us and the world, at least… for now.”
    She knows what he means—what he pines for and how it feels for him to be without. “Okay, Rib. I trust you.”

    He leads the way, lifting his cruel head high and lipping the air. At his flank, his younger brother and sister look anemic and puny, like two flowers who have grown inside the shaded mouth of a cave—because they had—squinting away from the sun and ticking together, hip-to-hip and shoulder-to-shoulder, their ears tucked back and their faces taut and harried looking. Lilin is bright, blue and beautiful, though she too has wilted somewhat in the recluse.

    Ribcage is strong and brutish looking, unkempt and muscular. A far cry from the boy he had been, once, but every bit as tormented—by the heft of his sibling’s safety held across his broad shoulders; by the absence of his eyes and exotic pelt; by the acrid scent of  smoke and fear, and the taste of equine blood on his lips.

    Kirin’s appearance had been something of a godsend. 
    It would be up to Lilin to ferret out all of the little things that Ribcage had not seen or felt.

    “Can you swim?” she looks at him with furrowed brow, touching the twitching muscles of his shoulder. “I mean… safely?”
    “If you can keep me safe.”
    This makes her smile and she motions across the wide channel to the distant island beyond. Rake and Woven quiver as they dip their bellies in, looking at her with big eyes. She keeps them straight and afloat, because of course she does, though by the end she hauls herself onto the white sand breathlessly. “That will be much easier… soon.” He nods and sends his nose high into the air again, searching for that single, carnal, fleshy scent. He finds it, nestled deep in a mound of meaty smells that he halts him and his family at the edge of.

    Lilin watches with wary eyes and Ribcage twists his head around, catching Vidas words.
    They do not move him. He’d tear the world down to cloak his family, dismantling their island was nothing.

    misery loves company and madness calls it forth
    [Image: sAxX94g.png]
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    #10

    Not much escapes his notice on the island. 

    So when the macaws take to the air in a reverse shower of reds, golds, and royal blues, he is quick to grow his own wings and follow them.  It takes only a few straining pumps of his leathery appendages to lift him into the hot thermals.  Normally, he would relish the rush of the trade winds (the dangerous force that often pushes him towards the deep sea, that toys with him as they blow indiscriminately from one direction to another).  But today, he turns his nose into the fury, slips into the stream that sails him towards the ocean. 

    In this way, Sabrael trails their march across low tide from high above.

    It is a sight that makes his blood boil – quite literally.  The beast roars a challenge within him, shakes at the bars he is firmly imprisoned behind.  Because the number of horses crossing the water is telling.  It tells him that this is no welcoming party.  It tells him that they will soon have a fight on their hands, if they think the Ischians will roll over and submit to whatever they have in mind.  It tells him – although not implicitly – that nothing will be the same for their sleepy home once their hooves hit the sand.

    But as Sabrael plummets towards the sloping, amorphous beach, his family steps out of the jungle’s shadows.  It isn’t enough to keep the intruders from drying their feet on the burning sand as they emerge from the shallows.  They come in like waves in one’s, two’s, three’s (a pale purple man, two grey girls, a dark grey woman, a black man and his own company).  The islanders form into a dike against them.  With a hard thud and a spray of soft sand, he fortifies their defense.  It isn’t much, he realizes as he moves alongside his silver-brushed mother.  Too many faces are absent in their ranks (he is glad to not see Wallace, at least; he hopes she is safe elsewhere).  But though they are few, they have hidden weapons in their arsenal – none more powerful than Ashley.

    The mage demands an answer as to why they’ve come and Ea is quick to echo the question.  For the bay roan it is obvious and unnecessary, wasted time when war is thrumming in his veins.  He waits, though.  He keeps the fire pressed firmly behind his quickly elongating fangs until one of the grey girls confirms his suspicions. 

    And then he lets free the beast.

    The horse grows and contorts and hardens as he gives way to the dragon.  His bones bend and crack as he enlarges.  Scales the color of dried blood cover his skin and shimmer in the tropical light.  He blinks and when he opens his eyes again, the pupils are slit.  Slit, and fixated on the lavender leader of the invaders.  Sabrael inhales Ischia (all of it, from the tangy brine to the fragrant forest) and exhales his rage as fire.  A wall of flames flares up in front of the outsiders – bright and hot, but temporary.  He will do no more unless Ea asks him to.  “Ischia will never belong to you.”  Not even if we fall.          



    Sabrael

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