Beqanna - The Deserts

The Warning

Fri, 22 Jul 2016 01:35:43 +0000

They had been warned once, but they did not listen. No, instead, their greed became greater, their behavior more reckless. They threw their powers about like grains of sand, draining it away from the land that so graciously gave them magic in the first place. Where had the magic come from, after all, in a race that had started with none? It did not originate with them, certainly, but with the land that loved them so.

Oh, how she gave and gave. And how they took and they took.

First the war. Bloodshed for the sake of bloodshed, and nothing more. A pissing match of powers that only led to ruin. Not one of them stepped back. Not one of them tried to stop it. They lusted for war, even when they did not admit it. They lusted for power.

And now, the raid. And for what? A throne that no one had earned. A title that no one deserved. What had they ever given to the Deserts - truly given? Oh, but they had taken from it. Taken shelter in the oasis, taken traits granted to those with titles. Yes, they protected it, but why? Because it suited them, of course. It suited them to play pretend, like they cared. How many stopped for a moment to think? How many ceased the use of their traits to spare the lands that supplied those powers?

None.

And no matter what they had done, in the end, she does not see how they have ever earned all they have been given. And so once again, she is forced to gather the inhabitants of Beqanna to herself. How many warnings could she give them? How many chances did they deserve?

“What does it take to make my children listen? Still, you fight for good and evil, though no such divisions exist. Still, you fight for power, when I have already given you so much. So I will remind you, once more, that you borrow this land and these powers from me.”

She pulls the powers from the magical entities, and you can feel the change rippling through the land, disappearing into the earth into a place that you cannot feel at all. “You will protect your magical entities, for they are no longer magical. They still exist, but they can no longer grant you powers, show you the future or your spirit, or anything else. However, should any harm come to them, your kingdom will wither and die.” She pauses only for a moment, but it is not long before Beqanna continues.

“Members of the Deserts, leave your kingdom now.” She waits only long enough for them to flee, and any that do not heed the warning will be caught in the repercussions. She will no longer save them. Then, the tides swell, and a tidal wave sweeps over the Deserts, submerging the kingdom into the sea. “No one has earned a right to sit the throne of the Deserts. Perhaps, in time, you will.”

“Do not make me return, or I will not be so kind.”

And with that final warning, she disappears, returning the inhabitants of Beqanna to the lands they were pulled from. Perhaps, this time they would learn. But perhaps, they were too far gone to be saved.

****
Updates:
1. The magical entities still exist, but they are no longer magical, and cannot grant powers/visions of the future/spirit animals/etc. Any damage done to the entities will cause harm to your kingdom, and they cannot be healed by magic.
2. All kingdom granted traits have been removed.
3. The Deserts has been flooded and is no longer inhabitable.

Rhy;

Thu, 07 Jul 2016 03:24:57 +0000

The Desert night is thick and heavy in his lungs as he lumbers through the shadows, his face shrouded in a villainous scowl as his thoughts storm over her absence. His heart ached for her and in turn, soured his mood – the titan was accustomed to getting what he wanted and so her remoteness from him shook his temper even more so than it should have. Kratos had a seething, unquenchable possessiveness for the painted mare that boiled in his veins and riled his emotions to a feverish swell. She was his, she had always been his.

And he wanted her. He needed her. Their souls were meant to bleed together, to be stitched together – forever tethered.

The skull-faced giant skulked through the limestone caverns and the far-end oasis’, his temper and his yearning heart growing more vehement with each shadow he passed that did not yield her. And amid his frustration a tendril of white lightning shakes up through his throat and splits the night-sky with her name behind its blinding brilliance, “Rhy!”

Kratos

the electric titan of vanquish and lyric

every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life; Szeth

Wed, 06 Jul 2016 20:00:27 +0000

She was asleep or almost so, the moment he nearly stepped on her. Startled, her blinked sleepy wide eyes up at him as her mouth made a little moue, as he made a hasty step back and an equally hasty startled exclamation. His apology is quick, as she scrambles to her feet and sways slightly, still drowsy and barely able to stifle a yawn but she manages to do so - it’s not polite to yawn in his face, he was her elder after all and if mother was nearby, she probably deliver a prompt rebuke for being disrespectful if she had caught Stoney doing just that. She stifles the shiver at the thought of mother’s teeth pinching her shoulder; it has happened often enough that the pintaloosa has no desire to antagonize her mother and so she tries to be mindful at all times, except like now, where she has strayed far enough away from Scalped’s line of sight but the mare never chased after her… Stoney thinks that is rather curious in and of itself but then she musters a more attentive look and takes the stallion’s measure for the first time.

“Probably not, but if my mother was worried she would have found me by now.” Her little head tilts to the side thoughtfully, “She always seems to know that I don’t leave the Desert, especially not after the big war. Mother said it was too dangerous…” her face pinches together in a pout because she really does like to explore; the oak and the dunes are all that she has come to know and they are getting awfully boring for a lonesome thing like her but Stoney is used to it, being alone that is, though sometimes she plays with a coyote that comes to visit her. She can talk to it and it talks to her, but has yet to know it is some relative of hers’, a cousin maybe, that can change his shape but he never does so in front of her. Truthfully, she hasn’t had much exposure to the weirdness of the Deserts, for all that it is a land of mythical beasts. Scalped has kept her pretty sheltered or maybe figures the girl will figure it all out on her own.

Stoney realizes she is being more than a little rude, staring up at him and going so far away in her thoughts as to forget he’s standing right there in front of her. He looks big and spotted like herself, but she doesn’t put two and two together just yet. “Why are you out here all alone?” Because it seems like a valid question to ask an adult, especially one that is a stallion.

Golden Boy

Mon, 04 Jul 2016 20:22:39 +0000

PHAEDRUS

This little trip could be considered his first diplomatic assignment since he had joined the Dale….. yea ok it WAS his first diplomatic mission since he joined the Dale. He was traveling across Beqanna for it, which gave him lots of time to think, and get nervous. The lumbering fool was awkward at best, and downright clownish on a normal day, he could only imagine how he would be on this sort of day. The blue hued stallion had taken note of how Ramiel had pointedly ignored the part about the Tundra. Phaedrus wasn’t stupid enough to question. Figuring that the Tundra had taken sides with their enemies. Oh well this couldn’t really be helped.

This was an area of the world that he was not so familiar with, thus he takes to the skies reaching the forested border of the Dale. Two deep sounding beats and he is airborne, it’s only after he has risen high enough to see the expanse of the plains that he decides on which route to take. There are no mountains or trees to maneuver around so it is a simple enough flight. Arriving where the dry grasses meet sands he begins to circle overhead, the black dot of a vulture slowly making his way to the ground below. After a few minutes of this his landing is heavier than usual, but still he is steady on his feet giving a shake of his mane to release any lingering feeling of the skies on his coat. As much as he adored his trips in the air, the feeling of being light weight and out of place is not comfortable when tied by gravity. Nor is the sensations of being tied to gravity when navigating the skies comfortable either.

Land is land, and air is air, trying to combine the two has a feeling of bad chemistry, and forced physics. It just didn’t work. With a deep breath he begins to fold in his wings trumpeting a call to the Desert leaders, Ea had said that she found them agreeable so that at least doesn’t cause him tension. What does cause his nerves to go into overdrive is the simple fact that he was worrying about stumbling over his words. Patiently he waits, standing as he always does, the stiff soldier guarding what belongs to him. While some find it silly, he finds it to be a natural stance, one that he can’t resist even when he tries to relax. The sun, though hot in this area, is to his back this allows him to see anyone that approaches. But as it takes time to get from one place to another, its not an immediate thing that he sees, hears, or smells.

i'll carry this flag, to the grave if i must

@[Vanquish]
@[Ea]

baruch attah adonai - any, all

Wed, 29 Jun 2016 21:23:26 +0000

oh, where do we begin? the rubble or our sins?

She’s been lazy - no, they’ve both been lazy. Indulgent. Lost in each other like two over-the-moon little yearlings, when the truth is that they’ve done and lived enough for five lifetimes. Yael stretches her wings today, leaving their tree and the world they’ve created beneath its boughs. B’kanna ran on and on and on while they tucked themselves away, and it leaves the golden woman with an uneasy feelings - as if they didn’t quite belong here anymore. They were relics of an old world, and all their friends were either dead or gone. It’s hard to live that way. Your days become a blur, blending together, especially when her children are off on their own, and there is no trouble knocking at their door.

She knows of the newcomer, Vidar, and the goings-on by the dinosaur bones. She’s brought back a new recruit, and reunited with Kark. Yael knows, and yet she does not “know” them anymore. Eliora is all grown up, and Qatar looks more like his sire every day. Shahrizai and Ilka are lovers like herself and Vanquish, and yet she could not describe the look in their eyes when they gaze on each other. And what of Feyre, and their various adopted children? Munroe, Kabechet, Volcan, Siloam - or Kratos? Her heart does not sit well in her breast, to feel like a stranger to their small contingent. And so she soars low over the sands, traversing back and forth over the miles of unmarked dunes and hidden oases, and when she finds them, she sends them a brief, but sincere message. An apology. An invitation to come and chat, if they like.

What’s important is that they know she’s still here. As she’s always promised to be.

Yael skims low over reeds and lands at the edge of a large pool of water. She holds her wings aloft, allowing air to circulate in and around her body - for the day is warm (it is winter, so the weather is far more bearable to the average horse), and her activity has made her sweat. The consort decides to wait patiently, to see if anyone will decide to come. In typical Yael fashion, she made no commands and her invitation was not full of pleading. It would be a pleasant surprise, she thinks, if more than one of them showed. And if more than three came? Why, she might even call it a party.

YAEL

mother, queen, magician

i am the fire; yael

Wed, 22 Jun 2016 00:03:57 +0000

Screaming like a siren, alive and burning brighter.

One of the places I have not yet visited is the Deserts, and I should have much sooner. I don't know whether my old friends still live there, but I have been remiss in not seeking them out. Vanquish and Yael have been dear to me for a very long time, and I...I didn't even say goodbye before I left. I couldn't, too shattered and molten and desperate to get away that there was no looking back, no drawn-out farewells.

I hope they understood, and that they still think of me fondly, if they think of me at all.

I could fly in as a dragon; it would hardly be the first time dragon wings took to desert skies. Instead, I find myself walking in my spotted yellow mare shape, all muscle and feathering and riotous tangle of hair bulking out an already drafty frame. Oh, nowhere near the height of my sons, all of whom but one tower over me. But I am comparable in breadth to the largest of them, strength written in every line and curve of this form.

It is not, to be honest, one I spend much time in these days. I tend toward my favorite bold blue male form instead, the once-black points now silver in honor of my long-dead brother. Still, female feels right today, as I approach what once was home. So I approach on foot, the substantial weight of my hooves sinking slightly into the sand as I walk. And when I reach the kingdom's border, I call out for the friends I left behind so long ago, or anyone who might know of their whereabouts. A deep, throaty neigh echoes out across the sand, announcing my presence. And then I wait.

I am the fire.

MANDATORY CASTE CHECK [reply by 7/1/16]

Thu, 16 Jun 2016 00:43:49 +0000

Please reply with your character and their caste request if not otherwise already appointed to one. No in-character post is required.

.

vanquish

black king of the deserts

when you think of love do you think of pain? (birthing, lupei)

Thu, 09 Jun 2016 02:09:51 +0000

She feels … adrift.

Even though she’s lived in the Deserts since Ironfire’s birth four years ago, the place has yet to feel like home to her.

She lives here, but she’s an outsider. A stranger to the many other horses that do call this place home. The only ones that ever do pay her any attention are her own children, but even they tend to avoid her in the end.

She knows why. Despite the years that have grown between her and her time with Lena, the girl still continues to weigh heavily on her mind. She thinks of the girl everyday, hoping beyond hope that Lena, wherever she is (was she even real?) is doing alright, that she's happy, that she and her mom managed to find a new home. There’s no way that she’ll ever know of course, but she can’t help but hope. Even though she knows how bleak their situation had been …

She’s tried to find distractions, in her children, in the embrace of lustful stallions … but even now, with her belly ripe and fat from the child within, she thinks of Lena and feels … lost.

The faerie’s trial had broken her in ways that she still can’t even hope to understand.

When the time comes for birth, she hides herself away in shade of a tree at the tiniest oasis, just as she had with her other three Desert children (Ironfire, Rosalee, Skyy … where are they now?). The process itself is quick and easy - she’s used to it by now - and in under an hour a damp little bundle lies in the sand at her side. She stands and moves to the child, a faint smile crossing her face when she sees that it’s a girl, and her coat is a beautiful, dark shade of green. She cleans off the mess then nuzzles at the child, trying to encourage her to stand. “Circinae. Come on sweetie, up on your feet.” She has no doubt that, in the end, Circinae will abandon her too. But she might as well enjoy this time while she can.

syl

when you think of love do you think of pain?

@[Lupei]

Show them the joy and the pain and the ending; Illum

Fri, 27 May 2016 03:34:52 +0000

Show them the joy and the pain and the ending

She doesn't remember leaving Beqanna, but the return trip is one she will never forget. Just as she would never (could never) forget the occurrences in that strange, human land.

At first she is disoriented, teetering on unsteady legs as she tries to regain her bearings. She has been deposited in the Desert, the shifting sands familiar beneath her feet. Her body feels heavy and strange for a moment, her sight distorted, her roan and white skin free and weightless. But then she recalls everything, her memories realigning as the pieces click into place, forming a story she's not sure she wants to remember.

The ache of love and loss sits like a stone inside he chest, reminding her far too clearly of the life she had been forced to leave behind.

For a moment, grief threatens, clogging her throat, her lungs, bringing tears to her brilliantly blue eyes. But that terrible sadness quickly gives way to anger. A burning rage that settles in her gut and refuses to subside.

How dare they?

Lurching forward, she heads almost instinctively for the small oasis she and Illum had called their own. It is a place of comfort, one she sorely needs in that moment.

Without a second thought, she finds her brother's sight, so familiar in a sea of limitless visions, momentarily replacing what he sees with a vision of their oasis. It is her calling card, her way of letting him know that she needs him. That he should meet her there.

With that slow anger burning in her gut, she sprints across the desert, feet pounding the earth in a steady, satisfying rhythm even as her blue and white coat grows slick with sweat. In her unfocused inattention, she does not notice the things that fall away into dust in her wake; the red rock, the small, scrubby bush, the prickly pear, all erupting into nothingness as she passes.

Heartfire

i filled up my senses with thoughts from the ghosts

@[Illum]

you can throw me to the wolves; any

Mon, 23 May 2016 18:46:27 +0000

It is terribly easy to reach the Deserts.

It is nearly impossible to leave the Jungle.

More specifically, the young man balks at the idea of leaving Lagertha behind. He knows she is strong - she is the khaleesi of the land, the fearless leader of soldier-women – but surely the departure of one of her offspring will diminish her in some small way. He doesn’t want that, even if he should have left long ago. He doesn’t want to think of her in quiet moments away from the Sisters. Time has been unkind to the iron lady’s rule (how the war had pulled her: past, present, and future), but still she holds on. It is only a testament to her strength that she has kept the Sisterhood largely untouched by the cold hands of the Reaper. Being the only child present to witness the war and his mother’s involvement, Vidar knows all too well its toll on her. He wishes the others had been there. The realization that he had been the last to leave the nest had been quick and stabbing. Neither Dalten nor Anguisette had left on good terms, besides, and the weight of these truths presses further into him.

But there is so much out there.

Vidar isn’t meant to remain sheltered behind the banana fronds forever. He is meant for the push and pull of his muscle against soil of foreign lands. He is made to represent his mother’s kingdom, to be a drain on thoughts of war and violence with the Jungle, to keep the peace. In many ways, he is glad to come out from the last fern covering the border. It trails against his blue-grey skin and elicits the smallest of smiles to flicker on his lips. The final, voluntary shackle falls away and he emerges into a brand new freedom beyond.

The azure sky is open and overwhelming to the child of shadows and leaves. He is at first mesmerized by the play of light on the land. The sunlight dips into every north-facing crevice, pooling in space between the hills that grow with every step he takes away from his homeland. It is beautiful in an honest kind of way; there are no sneaking vines hidden in the dark, waiting to trip one up. Here, everything is wide and his vision is reaching. So different, he marvels, appreciating it all the same. So much more like me. Because he is not made of deceit and trickery. He is as candid and unassuming as the land he finds himself in.

The heat, however, remains a constant. It hits him anew when he toes the edge of the Deserts. New, because this warmth has no breath to it. The heat of the sand kingdom is dry and without a hint of the Amazon’s infamous humidity. But the sun is still there, beating against the gentle slope of his back. Vidar welcomes it, relishes this one hint of home. His eyes, the color of a storm gathering above rainforest canopies, search for signs of life. There aren’t many to be found. A quiet kingdom, his mother had said, and he sees now that she had been well-informed. Quiet, perhaps, but surely not dead. The stallion considers moving further into his potential new home but wavers on the border. He remembers, suddenly and forcefully, everything he is representing. It would not do to cast a pall on his arrival, even as anxious as he is to search the Deserts to find his place in their world.

Vidar

cat scratch fever { VANQUISH, RHY, ANGUISETTE, ANY }

Tue, 17 May 2016 19:46:14 +0000

Dawn had risen, the sky was painted with pale hues of yellow and blue, a stark contrast to the black Amazon woman. She was still a little down, her home still not back to it's former lush glory. She wondered how long it was going to take before the jungle rejuvenated itself. She was longing her favorite to climb up and hide in, sadly the fires had burnt it to a crisp, one jump on that and she would end up going through it. Was a shame, but it was over now, and there was nothing she could do about speeding the regrowth, so she was just going to have to move on.

But, her mind was at ease now, she had left the humid jungle late in the night.

Her pace was steady, but not slow, her light green eyes taking in the changing landscape. She was not used to this at all. The once hydrated soil had now slowly turned into a soft dry sand. The pines and other lush green foliage that she knew so well had become more sparse, and soon there were none in sight.

She made it.

Naga was intrigued.

"So....this is the Deserts huh?"

She was here on business of course. After the battle, she had seen no trace of Rhy or Anguisette. This worried her, since of course they were her Amazonian sisters, also, Rhy was almost like a mother figure to her. The same mare that welcomed young runaway Naga into the Amazons years ago. She had hoped, after searching the other kingdoms with her fellow sisters, that she would find Rhy, and Anguisette.

She did not know where the Desert kingdom's boarder was, since she was new to this part of Beqanna, but she was not going to try to look any further, for fear of accidentally intruding. She was not the kind to try to start disputes.

So she waited there, her body relaxed, though her skin was starting to ache. Being used to the humidity of the jungle made it hard for her to withstand the dry heat of the Deserts.

Jeez, if I move, I am afraid my body will shatter.

Hopefully by the end of this visit she will not have to be brought back home in little china-like pieces.

naga

the jungle panther of atrox and shadowmere

This is the road to ruin; ANY

Sun, 24 Apr 2016 01:57:50 +0000

Feyre

The war had passed. Calm had settled back across the lands and she didn't have to worry about what might happen to anyone while they were fighting. Once she had settled Siloam and the other two girls or they had left her alone she had moved away. She had traveled across the hot sands with the burning sun beating on her black coat and she had reveled in it. The sun had warmed her and soothed her soul, settling her back into her skin and allowing the adrenaline of the War to disappear.

She wandered for days (weeks, months) learning the layout of her new home. The Deserts was now hers to protect and love and nurture. So she would do her best to do her part in this beautiful place.

Today as she was wandering, she came across the towering sandstone cliffs. She gazed at them in awe. They were so large, so beautiful. She released a sigh on the wind as it whipped itself around her. While Fall was turning into cold Winter days elsewhere the Desert was still as warm as any other day. It was the nights that brought a chill. She moved around the base of the cliffs, looking for a path. She knew there had to be one around here....Aha! There it was.

She moved up the trail carefully. It was narrow and rocks were scattered across her path. She weaved back and forth carefully, one eye always on the edge to her right and her left shoulder occasionally steadying herself against the rocks.

It took hours for her to reach the top and when she did, it took her breath away. The Deserts was sprawled out before her. She could see the big oak tree that was so out of place and the big oasis. There were other smaller ones here and there, dotted with green foliage amidst the sea of sand. She smiled with contentment, taking in the view.

“If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Then quit. No use being a damn fool about it.”

photo by Vitor Schietti

she acts like summer and walks like rain; munroe, any

Sat, 23 Apr 2016 04:48:19 +0000

The tiny buckskin filly skips across the dunes, stopping every once in a while as her feet slip in the sliding sands. It’s cooler today, being close to the end of autumn, and little Eliora (or Eli as she likes to be called) has decided that it’s the perfect opportunity to do a little exploring.

The moment her Ima’s back had been turned she’d scuttled away, making herself invisible in the shadows of the oasis. Then, when the coast had been clear, she'd traipsed away across the sands. She’s young enough to think she’s being terribly clever, and to not entirely realize that, no matter what she does, she will never truly escape her Ima’s gaze.

For now though, she thinks she’s ‘escaped,’ and she has a mission on her mind. She’s heard of a little oasis close to the main one, one where a myriad of beautiful rainbow fish swim in the cool clear waters. She’s determined that she simply has to see them. And she will not rest until she does.

Unfortunately, she’s gotten a little turned around. She’d headed straight in the direction of the oasis, prepared to stop for nothing, when she’d slipped in the sands and fallen down a dune (things happen when you’re so impossibly little). And when she’d climbed back up, she’d lost sight of the tree tops of the little oasis. She’s not too concerned yet though, she’s convinced that they place must be only two or three dunes away … or maybe four …

Eliora

Daughter of Sand and Shadow

@[munroe]

someone like you; volcan

Fri, 22 Apr 2016 00:30:34 +0000

i've been saving my soul for someone like you. so let's love while we're young.

The girl child is not sure why she is here. At first glance one could see the bay and teal child was too young to be without a dam unless necessity or death provoked it. Her small brow is furrowed upon cresting the sand kingdom. It stung her blue green eyes when the wind rose and spit the granules against her pelt. Now and again she would welp against the spur.

Thin teal limbs pull her over the shallow dunes before finding purchase of land, real land made of grass and soil. The small skull swivels to search for face or scent. This was outside the only home she has know.

Outside the forest.

It was scary.
It was heart-stopping.
It was exciting.

The small nostrils flare as the faintest glimpse of another's scent on the stale breeze, taunting her. Autumn was settling into Beqanna and so the atmosphere was drying more than usual, heightening the senses. With an ungainly grace does the filly turn to see the bearer of the pheromones. It was female and that is comforting to say the least (or so she thinks). A small call is given, high and melodic like the tinkle of tiny silver bells on the summer breeze. The russet child ceases her movements and looks keenly for movement, small points trained to hear a response. Keilani is aware of her gifts, the armor formation from light and self aura manipulation. They would be invoked only if there should be a threat from the other female equine.

The small girl draws a breath inward, chest full and small skull high for whatever decided to meet her call.

Keilani

self-aura manipulating, light armor equipped daughter of pazuzu and lirren

(i'm still getting use to this little girl so forgive me. she doesnt see voly yet but can smell her

Burn slow, burning up the back walls; Kitra/Akbar/Qatar/Etro/Gaza (any of em <3)

Thu, 21 Apr 2016 05:07:57 +0000

Volcan

Burn slow, burning up the back wall
Long roads, where the city meets the sky

She hesitates in being true to her word for a day or two after Vanquish’s return to her oasis. The smoke girl burns to bring honor to the family she has been so graciously adopted into, but therein lies her dilemma; she’s only truly met two members of the family, and only one face-to-face. She has a clear memory of the golden mare in the sky on the day of her birth from the sands, but she has failed to find the woman ever since. A more correct statement would be that Volcan has failed to find anyone; and although she hates to be a failure, she’s just a little too unsure to go waltzing into social gatherings right off the bat.

Best to take things slowly - to add kindling to the spark before true lumber.

With the sun beaming mercilessly down on the gangly yearling, she decides it will be now or never. Slivered eyes scanning the horizons, she wonders whether anyone will even hear her callings. To hell with it, She says softly, relishing how she can curse in her head whenever she wants. A true rebel, this one is. And anyhow, I’m close enough to the oasis; it’s just over there.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Volcan lets loose a high-pitched whinny, inviting her unknown brothers and sisters to come and play ‘house’ with her, as it were. In the silence that follows her summons, Volcan shifts her weight uncomfortably; how exactly she is going to go about this delicately is a mystery. One she will have to figure out right quick.

This is not the end, this is just the world
Such a foolish thing, such an honest girl