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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


    chew it up and swallow it, any
    #1
    " every scar will build my throne. "

    The sun creeps over the horizon at a pace that is agonizingly slow, casting its warm rays across the dew collected on spring flowers and grasses. The light stains everything a faint golden color but the scenery is wasted on someone like him. He slinks in without a hello or even a whisper to anyone. His shoulders feel better without the weight of a crown on his head but he always knew he was meant to be a dog anyway. Just a beast of war, nothing more or less than that to any king willing to harbor him. Much as he holds Wolfbane in high regards, the serpent believes him to be a fool for trusting their home to him. To the mad king.

    A snort leaves him as he resumes his old path along the border. He used to walk through here with Adna and Sabbath, explaining how important it was for them to patrol. But now his little heirs have grown to see him for the worm he truly he and he is certain they despise him for it. How could he have expected to be a decent father to them? How delightful, to see the beast attempt the role of protector and doting parent. But his lesson is learned and he obediently sinks into his proper place once more.

    His breath slips between his exposed teeth in little puffs. The scar tissue glistens wet and ugly around the pointed fangs lining the edges of his mouth. His eyes, the color of seasick emeralds, roam across Loess in search of anything familiar or even remotely interesting. This place doesn’t smell like Leliana anymore but he has nowhere else to go. No one else could possibly welcome a monster at their door, seeking refuge in exchange for the trouble he always brings.

    Where is she now, his queen of the underworld? As always, there is a hunger that churns through him to seek her out and slip back to her side as he always does, but he refrains this time. Maybe she’s found something better and more worthy of her gilded heart. Maybe she found someone who doesn’t try to tear her apart from the inside. His teeth clench with a guttural hiss at the idea of someone else keeping her safe at night. His steps grow longer and more hurried as though he could escape these vile thoughts if he just went a little faster. The serpent knows he doesn’t deserve a love like hers or her fevered kisses across his tired brow.

    He is only a beast of war, nothing more or less than that.

    VulgariS
    #2

    Wolfbane had been a fool to trust Vulgaris in his absence. As he crept over the still-waking kingdom in silence he considered all the instances he should’ve taken as signs but chose to overlook instead. For starters, he remembered how the snakeskin stallion nearly thrust them all into war over a mare. Family was important to Bane and the families harbored in Loess under his rule were important by extension as well, but when Heartfire had slapped the group with dose of infallible truth by way of her visions - showing the entire ordeal as it had played out near the riverside - the once monarch could see that Vulgaris held his own intentions above others well being.

    Even after the plague had struck and the remaining horses from their home fled south to the Pampas, he remembered trying to pluck a bit of control from Sylva and giving it to his second-in-command then, only to be promptly refused. In his own acute way, Vulgaris had tried to warn against leadership but Wolfbane (out of options and pressed with urgency) had disregarded them in favor of trust.

    A mistake he knows will never be made again.

    The pegasus sighs, deep in his thoughts beneath the overcast shadows of rock spires and twisted little trees. His own steps are quieted by a lush growth of spring grass, thick from having no hooves to trample it during the beginning of the outbreak. In his absent state of mind he nearly comes to pass by his former champion without the two intersecting and, if things in this world were meant to be right perhaps he would’ve, but the lengthy beat of the taller, darker stallion catches his attention enough that he stops and lifts his head, waiting.

    “Bastard traitor.” He spits at the sight of Vulgaris, coming around a rocky bend. Of all the horses… yet he’s thankful. Now he won’t have to go hunt the belly-crawling scum down. “If you take one step further you’ll wish you hadn’t, Vulgaris.”

    Refugee of Loess : Member of the Southlands

    Wolfbane



    @[Vulgaris] Brounion
    [Image: Wolfbane2.png][Image: 3bCHvj.png]
    #3
    " every scar will build my throne. "

    He remembers this face, somewhere in the haze of his wanderings after he’d climbed down from the mountain with no idea as to who he was or where he should be. He tilts his head slightly as the other spits out an insult without so much as a greeting. Intriguing. The serpent had previously assumed they were friends of some degree before but he supposes he’s done something to upset the stranger. But then he issues a challenge and Vulgaris briefly pauses as he weighs his options. What consequences could deter him from continuing on his path, if any? He’s learned that nothing of this world can end his miserable existence. No one can grant his wish and no one may.

    So he takes the first defiant step and then another. Closer, closer, closer. Until they are near enough that Wolfbane could reach out and seize him in his teeth. Or perhaps Vulgaris could do the same. There is something dark, something feral and slithering behind those green eyes as he waits patiently for some punishment for his disobedience.

    You’ve no crown to command me. No army to raze me,” he says quietly, just loud enough so no one else may hear. “Start over. Tell me your name and who I am.

    The terrible thing slinks back then as he shifts his weight, both ears pointed forward to hear whatever the former king may say. He knows his name but his family only wept when he dug for answers. Why did they permit him to sit on any throne and why did everything seem to fall apart all around him? Had it always been this way? Perhaps this was some fresh new phase of a curse dealt to him by a cruel god. All these questions come erupting from his mind but he remains focused on only the most basic ones for now.

    Tell me my story, and if Castile wishes me banished then I’ll never darken your doorway again. You have my word.

    He worries if the old Vulgaris kept promises but he has nothing else to offer up for assurance. They could take his head, if they liked, but he knows another would spring up in its place. Maybe it would be cathartic for them all the same.

    VulgariS
    @[Wolfbane] @[Castile]
    even though he's a mess he still wants to be bane's friend Sad((
    I tagged castile in case aeris wants in on this
    #4
    and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
    a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
    The scent spurs Castile from his rest, bringing to life his predatory senses as they drink in Vulgaris for the first time in months. Emotions rush forward and seep into Castile’s vision as it hungrily rakes across the surrounding area. Slit pupils dart side to side until the reptilian man comes into view.

    (He will want his crown back)
    Not necessarily.
    (Never give it back)

    The raspy voice hisses into his mind, feeding him brutish agitation until he is able to suppress it after a moment’s battle.

    Composure falls across him like a blanket when he descends from his perch on a small, rocky ledge. He clambers down, unhinging pebbles in the process. A slow blink returns his eyes to normal, his body portraying nothing of his predatory nature as he approaches. He takes pause only once when another man intervenes. Their combination is loud, angry. Castile curiously listens from afar, waiting for an opportunity that never truly comes. It doesn’t entirely involve him, their dispute, and yet he steps forward with flashing eyes. ”My, my, my. Dealing with some historic grudges, I assume?”

    Traitor. The accusation rang clearly. It piqued Castile’s interest more than anything else. As much as he wants to claim knowledge of Loess’ intricacies, he is actually limited. Vulgaris was here, demanded healers to be among them, and then suddenly the crown was on someone else’s head- his.

    Castile’s eyes flicker between the two men. ”Vulgaris,” his voice, gravelly and deep, reverberates with familiarity before his attention falls onto the other. ”Wolfbane.” they’ve met briefly, the conversation brimming with gratitude for Castile having kept an eye on Pteron. He’s family. That’s simply how it works, no? He once babysat Lepis, but with her gone, Pteron has his attention.

    With no aversion in either direction, the dragon king remains level in his voice and posture, neutral even in his judgment. ”What seems to be the problem?”


    castile


    @[vulgaris] @[Wolfbane]
    #5

    He’d warned him, so Vulgaris shouldn’t have been surprised when Wolfbane drew his head closer to his neck at the gray’s first step. It was a slight action, barely a movement at all but he was drawing in a deep breath and the curve of his chest had begun to fill with air. Against his own better nature Bane had fully intended to spit flame and watch the Viper burn, but when he flared his nostrils and opened his mouth, nothing spilled out.

    No fire or brimstone, no excessive heat or painful yellow flame. Just a gasp and following that, an irritated narrowing of his hazel eyes. Well shit he thought, eyeing Vulgaris without twitching a muscle. The scaled horse took another step or two and Wolfbane tried again, exasperated to find that the second attempt was about as successful as the first one. Somehow, today turned out to be his former friends lucky day.

    It didn’t matter, though. Once the larger stallion came close enough to possibly strike, Bane already had another thought in mind. He smirked, but the expression was wiped away and replaced with disbelief and then, utter disgust. This creature wasn’t Vulgaris. Not the one he knew.

    Since when had a crown ever mattered? Was his former champion some dog now, Castile’s dog? A whipped and pathetic thing, quiet with his threats and asking for Wolfbane to tell him a story?

    Suddenly the snake didn’t even seem worth his time anymore, talking like that. Bane should’ve ignored him, but he couldn’t.

    He had just enough time to gather a wet lump of spit and cough the glob of phlegm into the dark face that had stupidly decided to stand so close, before Castile joined them. At such a short distance Wolfbane doubted the projectile would miss, but he flung his head forward with the action anyways just to be sure. Vulgaris deserved much, much worse.

    Castile’s sarcastic remark goes unanswered by the striped Pegasus; he was about as necessary here as another stone in Bane’s hoof, but from what Vulgaris had said it seemed the viper was dependent on someone else telling him what to do. Fine - no sense in beating around the bush. “The problem is there’s an Asp in the nest we all call Loess. I’d like to formally challenge Vulgaris for the title of Champion.” He made his intent clear, turning to eye the spotted dragon-shifter.

    “If you have someone else in mind, fine. Just know my name’s in the hat now.”

    Refugee of Loess : Member of the Southlands

    Wolfbane



    @[vulgaris] @[Castile]
    [Image: Wolfbane2.png][Image: 3bCHvj.png]
    #6
    " every scar will build my throne. "

    In another life, in another place, his lips would have peeled back into an awful grin as he watched Wolfbane draw closer. But that is not the case and so the only sign of his emotions is the gleeful gleam in his emerald eyes when he watches the creature struggle. Even if he had been successful, though, Vulgaris has learned that his flesh will stitch itself back together and have him good as new within seconds. A blessing, he supposes, but he mostly considers it a curse. No way to scar this ugly face any further.

    He keeps his eyes trained on Wolfbane as the king approaches, addressing Castile with only the swivel of a single ear as he questions them. The serpent’s jaws open wide and snap the phlegm from the air so his teeth meet with a loud clap. Nothing could ever be more vile or revolting than him. Finally, he turns his gray head toward the dragon king and offers a brief nod.

    The canary thinks I’ve done Loess some great wrong,” he says with a faint laugh. His wicked eyes turn back to the winged creature at the mention of a challenge as a fire rekindles itself within the viper’s breast. A scramble for the title. An opportunity for gratuitous violence and bloodshed. His tongue slips over those exposed, pointed teeth like he can already taste the tang of copper in his mouth.

    Why would Loess want a little bird posing as a dragon? You can’t even breathe fire when you’re burning up with rage.

    His eyes are glimmering with delight now as he watches closely. A drop of venom already drips from a single fang in the corner of his mouth as he imagines catching a blue and yellow throat between his teeth. He imagines his jaws unhinging with that gut-wrenching snap as he swallows oozing chunks of him whole. Vulgaris wonders if his blood will turn to pink foam all over the serpent’s face if he slings him back and forth like a limp little doll. A shiver runs up his spine.

    What do you think, Castile? Do you want to watch me rip his legs off and make him crawl like a worm?

    VulgariS
    @[Wolfbane] @[Castile]
    I might be away until next week if this does lead to a challenge. Got stuff going on.
    #7
    and underneath the layers, I find myself asking what's left
    a hollowed out form, the skeleton of a ghost, the pitiful echo of what once was
    There is venom spiraling in their voices, fueling their rage.

    Castile watches, more closely now, and inclines his head toward Wolfbane. His homecoming is bitter, it seems, but the reasons are far beyond Castile. There is a history lurking underneath all of this, and somewhere – somehow – everything went awry.

    ”Interesting,” he waited a hearts breadth before saying anything, his voice low and contemplative as his mismatched eyes slide coolly toward the serpent, expecting a rebuttal. Surely, it comes with haste with a comment that Castile nearly joins in chuckling. A canary and an asp, they say, and with a dragon as the mediator. What a sight, indeed.

    Even as the banter continues beneath the hot, summer sun, Castile remains more or less contained within his own thoughts as he weighs the situation. It would perhaps be unwise to admit Vulgaris’ absence since his descent. It work add gasoline to the fire that is already ablaze. Wolfbane would sink his teeth into the information, infect it and let it fester among their numbers. Truthfully, Castile wants to know more. His mind craves for their dispute, to know what unsettled Loess’ former balance.

    Alas, the time for that isn’t now when their bodies are already combatively prepared.

    Unable to contain himself, a low, half-hearted chuckle slips past his lopsided grin toward Vulgaris. ”I would,” he begins as his thoughts imagine the damage Vulgaris could inflict, ”if he weren’t family.” Distantly, yes, but still a figure in his life that has some amount of protection. It would be wrong of him to dispose of Lepis’ heart. Shifting his weight and lifting a brow, Castile considers the both of them with piqued intrigue. ”I think a challenge sounds marvelous,” a mischievous grin smears across his face and brightens his eyes as they flicker back and forth. ”I would like to see this, and open it up for anyone that wants to be Champion.”

    He can set the stage.
    Let there be blood.


    castile


    @[vulgaris] @[Wolfbane]
    #8

    Once there had been loyalty, a quick and earnest friendship. Had it already been so long ago that Wolfbane and Vulgaris had exchanged the same looks that now pass between the viper and Castile? The pegasus watches it all unfold quietly, earnestly listening to the idle threats thrown back to back at him. He seems to forget Bane thinks, that once upon a time they’d stood together and watched a vision of Dovev hand the snake’s ass on a platter to him. He seems to forget Bane remembers, that afterwards the fallen champion had limped back here to nurse his wounds.

    There’s no laughter in his eyes or anger either, anymore.
    No - he sees now that it’ll take another dose to make Vulgaris humble again.

    Castile, on the other hand, gathers only the slight raise of Wolfbane’s brow. He’ll get his entertainment soon enough, but the idea of Wolfbane's own legs being torn free from his body as a means of that entertainment tells him much more about the dragon than when they’d initially met. He wonders if Castile or Vulgaris are aware that they’d grow back; even venom rotting in his veins would eventually be overturned and made fresh again.

    The two beasts facing each other were more evenly matched than they realized.

    How unfair was it that something once considered so important to the two now seemed like a platform for basic member measuring? He wants to taunt Vulgaris mercilessly, tell him that after he finishes with the snake he’ll find Leliana and ask if she’d like a taste too, (how many other lovers had she seen besides Dovev? Did it matter, really?) but he inhales deeply and finally smiles when Castile mentions that he’ll open the challenge up for others as well.

    “Perfect.” Bane agrees. The chances of Vulgaris remaining champion had just lessened, and those were odds he favoured. “All’s settled then. We pick a day and place, the sooner the better.” He rumbles, shifting his wings as an afterthought. Something about the look in those slit, venomous eyes told him there’d be very little disagreement. Why, he wants to ask, would you fight for this but give up the throne?

    Senseless.

    Refugee of Loess : Member of the Southlands

    Wolfbane



    @[vulgaris] @[Castile]
    [Image: Wolfbane2.png][Image: 3bCHvj.png]
    #9
    Boredom had always been a dangerous state of mind for her. It turns out, so is scorned.

    She was irritated, and feeling especially inflammatory as she walked swiftly through Loess. From the corner of her eye, there is a most peculiar gathering – Castile, Bulgaria, and Walfbean. She pauses for but a moment, her cobalt blue eyes narrowing in concentration. A battle for champion, hm? She doesn’t really know Wolfbane all that well, but she does know he had left the kingdom in Vulgaris’ care. How odd that there was such hostility brewing between the two of them. Castile, of course, didn’t bother to diffuse it. That’s why she liked him.

    It’s as she draws nearer that she catches the spiteful thoughts of the once-king, and she cannot control the laugh that bubbles from her mouth as she says with a quirk of a brow, “Wolfbane, you shouldn’t think such impure thoughts about Vulgaris’ lover. You never know who can hear you.” Punctuating the sentence with her signature too-sweet smile, the star-studded mare continues on, content with the flames she had stoked and already looking forward to the charred remains she would return to.
    #10
    " every scar will build my throne. "

    In another life, maybe a different time, Vulgaris might have understood their penchant for protecting even distant family members. But his own blood is too ancient to map and he doesn’t care much for his siblings beyond the ones he grew up with. He’s seen them in passing and connected the dots enough to figure out they’re the children of his father’s affairs. Maybe blood should bind them as Castile is bound to Wolfbane but he feels no inclination to care for them any more than he does the other strangers he passes by.

    He turns his sage green gaze back to the king when he proposes a tournament for the title. Vulgaris drags his teeth along the sharp points of his fangs at the thought of tearing through the entire kingdom to prove his strength. There would be enough blood to casually backstroke in. The torn remnants of his lips pull back into something like an ugly smile at the thought.

    He opens his mouth to agree with Wolfbane, for once, but he is quickly distracted by Starsin’s sudden appearance into their argument. Her words are gasoline on a fire that was already raging just fine. The flames crawl up from his belly and form words on the tip of his tongue. His eyes narrow and venom drip, drip, dips from the largest of his fangs.

    When I’m done with you, you will beg the gods to just let you die. Then, I’m going to wear your face while I fuck your wife. She'll love you more than she ever has.

    Maybe he means it. Maybe he doesn’t. He’s already imagining all the ways he’d mangle Wolfbane’s family as he turns and makes his leave. Leliana will be upset to know that he gave in to his ravenous hunger for violence again.

    VulgariS
    @[Wolfbane] @[Castile] @[Starsin]




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