"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
05-06-2020, 06:41 PM (This post was last modified: 05-08-2020, 12:14 PM by ghaul.)
GHAUL
i can take you there, but baby, you won't make it back
He waits until it is dark. The cold air is crisp as it draws into his lungs and he exhales in a short chittering to his brother. Draco had cackled delightedly when Ghaul commented that Lilliana must be so lonely without another captive to keep her company. Perhaps adding another would give her an excuse to escape the brood and their incessant stream of questions for her. At the very least, having a friend with her would make fighting off the hatchlings once they start teething.
He spreads his wings and leaps from the cliff on which they stand. The warm desert air currents lift him easily with each flap until the world disappears in the clouds beneath him. His talons are tucked close to his chest as he soars toward the north. The night is still young when he lands on the border of Taiga. Ghaul does not care for landing among their trees, and so he crosses into their home on foot.
The first one he stumbles upon is entirely foreign to him, but it makes no difference. Any Taigan will do, in his opinion. He spreads his wings once more and prepares to lunge for her. Maybe Izora Lethia is small enough that he can simply pluck her from these forests and haul for her off to the Cove. Gospel may not like having a surprise visitor, but he hopes she will find it in her cold heart to forgive him.
( Ghaul of Silver Cove is doing a card dice steal for Izora Lethia of Taiga for one year. )
05-06-2020, 07:23 PM (This post was last modified: 05-08-2020, 01:31 PM by Izora Lethia.)
The days of late had passed quickly, and slowly all at once. The future of Taiga was balancing on a thin line. She and Lilliana had made plans, but Lethy of all people knew that plans could change quickly. These were the things that kept her mind from sleeping silently in the middle of the night, though Owin’s presence was always a better source of peace than her own magic that was always wrapped tightly around her when she needed it most. Her son had stood by her side unmoved since Aten’s disappearance, one Lethy was sure was not his own doing.
This night was particularly calm, all considering, and while Lethy closed her eyes restlessly Owin stood not far, alert and watchful - eyes and mind. The sun had set and the forest had grown dark, Owin welcomed his infrared vision as easily as he picked through the wayward minds that found comfort beneath the Taigan canopy. It did not take him long to sense the stranger mind as he crossed the Taiga border and he was quicker still to see the form descend from the sky and land. His heart felt as if it was about to rip from his chest the minute he realized the horse before them lunging once more, was lunging towards his mother. With all he had he sprinted across the opening towards his dam, forcing as much air into his lungs as he could before shouting to her, ”Mother, run or fight!”
Lethy’s mind was quick to pull away from its hazy entrance to peaceful sleep, the piercing sound of her son’s voice breaking every ounce of magic that cradled her. Her piercing amethyst eyes shot open, as her ears pinned closely to her head. Teeth barred at whatever predator may be coming for her. Fight was all that rang through her head. She had done enough running in her life, she had stayed with Taiga for many years and she was not about to go willingly now. Coward hissed through her clenched jaw, pulling the ugly scar across her face tightly, the moon throwing gruesome shadows across her face.
(Lethy is blocking Ghaul’s attempt at stealing - play the cards, you’ll regret this)
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
Unable to sleep in this densely forested territory, Castile wanders.
Like this – a simple sorrel chestnut with no impressive additives – he cannot find peace in resting on leaves. His lip curls in mild distaste as he placidly weaves among the throng of trees, seeking an opening in the canopy so that he can at least see the night sky. A deep breath is drawn in when he finally locates a patch of moonlight unobstructed by the treetops. A great part of him wants to take flight, to soar once again among the clouds, but he resists with every fiber of his being. Nashua recruited – invited? – him to Taiga like this, as Rocky. How cruel would it be to crush the boy so soon?
A sigh slips from his lips in resignation, his eyes drooping nearly shut with longing until a noise pulls him from the somber lull of his selfish wants.
Blinking, his pupils contract into slits and peer through the forest. Although unfamiliar with most scents, he can at least identify Pangea, and that alone is enough to hook Castile’s attention. A freight train through the orchard, he barrels through the underbrush, ignoring the thorns nipping his legs and the shouts of snapping fallen branches. The thermal reading is enough to locate the pair in the shadows, and Castile – still obediently disguised as Rocky – confronts the intruder as though he is loyal to Izora Lethia (in truth, since being recruited in the autumn, he has mostly lurked on the outskirts leading into this winter, eluding conversation in case he was identified). It takes everything in his power not to shift, or to exhibit a single draconic trait, but he manages it with enough focus as he roots himself at the woman’s side defensively.
He says nothing, keeping his gravely undertones to himself. In the darkness, they do not see his slitted pupils beneath his unruly curtain of forelock.
Just barely brushing his shoulder against Lethy’s in reassurance, Castile prepares to defend Taiga’s remaining leader.
castile
Not sure if Castile CAN block. He is within the 72 hours allotted, and per the rules, a member can attempt to block when the leader is being stolen... And enough posts have been squeaked out before the 72 hours to count as active here.
If he can help block, awesome. If not, oh well - I'd rather have tried and fail than not try and missed an opportunity to help -shrugs-
This steal stands, but with a few notes based on the updated rules.
1. It should stay open for 72 hours or until a 3rd horse has a chance to block. The reply to the judging thread will be deleted, so please repost when ready.
2. Please edit your posts to include proof of your character's active status.
05-08-2020, 07:44 PM (This post was last modified: 05-08-2020, 07:53 PM by Neverwhere.)
She was not quite what you would call refined.
It's probably best that Loblolly has gone missing because she definitely would not approve of Poppy's version of flying lessons for Gnash, with the youth curled in the dubious safety of her claws. The boy cries higher and she obliges, lifting from where they soar just over the very tips of the redwood trees and into the stars shining above the Taigan fog. A subtle readjustment of wings and feathers sends them upward in an abrupt arc, at the peak of which she tucks her wings tight and the pair fall, dropping from the sky like stones.
She does not know what he is looking at, the receding stars, the dark trees rushing up beneath them, but her own sharp eyes are scanning a break in the canopy where shadows swing and lurk through the trees. There are many shadows in Taiga, some more alive than others, so what it is about these that catches her attention, she can't say. An instinct for trouble, maybe.
"Time to go, Gnash. See ya!"
Her claw opens and she doesn't wait to watch the colt fall.
In a blink, she's horse-shaped and small, trotting through the forest until she finds the angry gathering. The smell of dragon fire brightens her mood more than it does for the others. Owin and a chestnut gelding are nearby, it is golden Lethy that challenges the familiar creature rushing at her with outstretched claws. The little bay waltzes into the fray with laughter bubbling from her throat like water in a brook and around her the air turns sharp with a scent like chlorine. She turns her head to the scaled stallion with those massive curling horns, and she grins.
---------
Poppy is here to inform Ghaul that Lethy is not a sheep, but there's plenty of deer if he would like to go hunting with her.
proof of activity: 3 posts in Taiga in the last 30 days
05-08-2020, 10:52 PM (This post was last modified: 05-08-2020, 10:58 PM by Nashua.)
Celina had planted in his head that really, the best way to learn how to fly with a little.. additional altitude. The fallen log he had been leaping off has lost its appeal as he’s gotten bigger and his legs have gotten longer. (Nash had been eyeing the cliffs that edge towards Nerine but there had been something of a warning in her glance when he had asked about it.)
So without cliffs and feeling limited with his logs, he grins wildly at Popinjay when she returns his idea with a smile that is madcap and full of gales.
Up and up they go, Nashua tucked neatly in her talons and the yearling things this has been the grandest adventure he’s taken so far. The view - coming starlight, the shadowed trees as they grow smaller - is certainly the best he’s seen. Nash is so enthralled with it that he doesn’t expect the plummet that comes swift and sure (he’ll fly like this someday, he’ll cut the air too). Where they had once climbed higher and higher, the fall even faster and Nashua feels his ears flick back and every muscle comes alive with anticipation.
This is it.
Popinjay drops him as easily as she flits around Taiga.
His neck arches and when he remembers to spread his wings, there is a pleasant gust of air that meets him. The ground is still coming fast but he can control the speed. It’s the control that he mistakes and what was a glide moments before quickly resumes into what the bay mare had probably intended: disaster.
Nashua crashes into a snowbank. It somewhat muffles his fall and when he raises his copper head to blink, his green eyes follow Popinjay as she laughs and dances into a crowd. The pegasus knows some - there is Lethy and her son, ‘Rocky’ and the chaos-chaser herself in the middle of the crowd.
His shoulder hurts but he moves forward, glancing between the crowd. It’s the stallion that Popinjay grins at that catches his attention. Nashua has certainly never seen a horse like that before and even for all his imaginings, Ghaul is not something his mind can conjure. His auburn wings settle against his slim sides. He takes a few steps forward, hesitating behind Popinjay but pricks his ears ahead.
There is tension in the air - but how can he focus on that when there is a stallion like that in front of him?
His mind can’t make up what Ghaul is and his eyes can’t seem to take him enough.
Nash looks up, tilting his head curiously to one side. The boy grins as he stops behind Poppy. "I like your horns.”
i've got a face of gold, i've got a heart of coal, but baby that's my cross to bear
It is rare that Draco and Ghaul get the pleasure of hunting together, but when they do -
Oh! It is glorious.
Darkness embodied, both borne of a man made of shadow, they travel swiftly and lightly. Draco, with his light, lazy galloping; and Ghaul, with his impressive wings and control of the sky. A grin, wild and unruly, lifts the demon's lips.
This - this is home. The fight, the chase, the fear coursing through others. Not even Pangea can give Draco the sense of belonging that releasing his own pain does. They will feel it, even if the two are not successful. They'll remember and live in utter fear.
When Ghaul lands, the pair travel together until they find their victim. Draco circles around as quietly as possible, coming up to face Izora Lethia's hindquarters. The wild grin returns as his vicious glow of his eyes brightens. If Ghaul can't pick her up then Draco will happily herd their way with his fear. The demon delights in the chaos, even as their plans begin to be thwarted.
At least they'll feel his fear, too.
"Hmmm," he hums to himself, as if he were merely spending an evening alone with classical music. The eery calm that masks his face is smothering: Draco drags in a deep, sudden breath, relishing what it feels like to truly be alive.
05-09-2020, 08:13 AM (This post was last modified: 05-09-2020, 08:45 AM by Skeleton Ghoul.)
if i stare into the abyss, will it stare into me?
He wouldn't have thought it possible, but the air in Taiga suddenly feels heavier than normal.
Thick. Almost suffocating. Dark ears prick from their usual neutral position, standing up as Skeleton Ghoul's heavy skull lifts inches at a time. He listens, stock still, to the weighted blanket of typical silence that envelopes the misty redwoods. Scarred nostrils widen, taking in the scents of the land he has called home for the past six months, and with the vaguest breath of chilled air, he smells something off.
Something is wrong. The titan lowers his head and pursues that foreign stink.
He is not the first to arrive. Skeleton Ghoul doesn't know any of these horses, but two in particular, which everyone seems to be focused on, stick out to him. They don't smell like Taiga. They stink of salty air and foamy waves, and of trouble. The draft stallion snakes his head down and locks his ears back against the tangled mess of white mane at his poll, halting march behind the black star-patterned stranger with horns. He is out of kicking range, for now, but the eighteen hand behemoth bares his teeth and fixes his empty stare on the foreign pair, daring them to make a move. It's been too long since he's had a good scrap.
![[Image: jCdBK6.png]](https://img.nickpic.host/jCdBK6.png)
![[Image: qZyWUwo.png]](https://i.imgur.com/qZyWUwo.png)
