01-15-18 ★ A quick update to start off after the pause is a new short form to fill out when posting for approval (new characters from here on out) to have a record for all team of the Staff to look over when changes are made to make it easier for both sides. Be sure to check to check it out on our new approval thread! (Read More)

01-02-18 ★ LTTS will be having a pause on staff actions on the site on January 1st till the 15th. (Read More)

01-08-18 ★ There's now a way to check out who are in the herds alongside their ranks. Check them out underneath the Who's Online area on the index page! And, the herd pixels are back right below these news blurbs.

     



  Mid-Winter, Year 2    Leviticus Era
A meeting for the Knights of Lyrus is being hosted by Commander Kodarki in the Red Waste!
Destroyah has lost to Draco in a heated fight, but we're sure we'll see more from the mare!
Valor the dragon-horse has lost against Zuriel, fighting on behalf of Etain for Crucis!
The Hall of the Dead now has an official forum within the Depths.
Beaufort takes Amapola to the Creation Pool after she was badly beaten by Valor.
Valor calls together the horses of the Viridian Fields for a meeting.

Chatter


Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)
Open  lay your bones
Citizen

Pacifist
 Young Adult, 2-3 yrs  Mare
 14.1 hh  600 lbs
15 Posts 80 points
 BailanduSilueta Offline
Posted on Jan 09 2018, 7:13 PM. (Edited: Jan 14 2018, 12:50 AM by gwynn.)
Reply  
#1

She’d been awake a few days; a rare occurrence for a mare as sickly as Gwynn. Her last sleep episode had lasted 3 weeks and left her in a sorry state, but after finally being fed something substantial and drinking until her throat was no longer dry, she was able to carry herself to the place she’d heard called the Claiming Grounds.
 
The weak fae was, of course, aware of her ill health and poor condition at least. Even if she had no knowledge of her sleep disorder and the distinction between her dream world and reality, there was no hiding her sunken cheeks and ribs, her pale and greying complexion and her shallow, stuttered breaths. She had come to the intelligent conclusion that it was safer she find herself a place to call home, and so had sought advice from the nearest kind individual she had found, who directed her here. Unfortunately, the lands of the Claiming Grounds were of a climate Gwynn was not best used to. The monochrome surroundings were nothing at all in comparison to the highly saturated colours and vivid landscapes of Gwynn’s dreamscapes. In fact, everywhere the fae looked the views were quite depressing and sinister. The land was hot, but her sweat glands had ceased to work due to the extent of her illness.
 
As a result, her steps were laboured, almost tortured, as she set her sights on a tall tree stump standing a few hundred metres away. The distance was nothing, really. Not for an ordinary creature, one whose body was not stricken with disease and a skeleton beyond simple weakness. The mare, however, by the time she reached the stump was entirely out of breath and a little dizzy. Her surroundings were beginning to grow blurry and a deep, bass-toned humming thrummed in her ears. Her head throbbed, and she heard every far-too-fast heartbeat as it jolted her entire feeble frame. She barely stopped herself from collapsing against the tree-stump, instead choosing to just lean her figure against it and watch out over the rest of the land she had walked into.
 
It was not particularly busy, but that is not to say that it was empty, either. A few loitering equines stood in conversation or alone around her, though there was no way to tell which of these already belonged to herds and which were seeking them. Apparently, the mare could do nothing but wait and hope someone would approach her. Of course, she could’ve sought out the herd members herself, approaching them and asking that they take her into their homes, but she was far too weak to move again, let alone not confident enough to take such an initiative.
 
She let out a short, gentle exhalation and watched with tired eyes as the breath wisped upwards before quickly disappearing into the humid air around her. Her fatigued mind was barely able to track the cloud of breath as it swirled, and the movement of her eyes only caused the throbbing in her head to increase its ferocity. With a second, defeated sigh, the mare let her heavy eyelids slip closed as she recounted the events of the last few waking days. One could only hope that she didn’t fall into another fit of diseased sleep.

gwynn
tag : @ anyone - notes : my poorly baby needs a home! no heretics, please, and probably not lyrus either because of the heat 
header image © martin jernberg on unsplash.com
html © bail




Citizen

Aggressor
 Adult, 5½ yrs  Stallion
 20.0 hh  2000 lbs
52 Posts 160 points
 Moseley Offline
Posted on Jan 12 2018, 8:44 PM. (Edited: Jan 12 2018, 8:45 PM by Zacharius.)
Reply  
#2

The claiming grounds were on the border of the Fields, so only made sense that the lizard man would patrol through them every once in a while. Afterall, the dead forests stood between him and Rimrock Bay, his favourite haunt besides the herd land. Although, should he find himself desperate for the salt he needed to remain in a sane mind, the North Western border of the land was home to the sea itself. A muchly appreciated fact.

His mind wandered as he walked, taking lazy steps with no real purpose, yet no one approached him. His green eyes would linger on the odd loitering groups he spied, but mostly he paid no heed to his surroundings. Simply let his hooves carry him through the monotone landscape.

Except it wasn't quite as monotonous anymore as it had once been. Tiny, intermittent flecks of green could be spied and he took extra care not to drip green ooze on them. He wouldn't want to destroy what nature worked so hard to make, right?

Hah, that was a lie. He'd do whatever was asked of him, destroy the whole world if he had to if someone asked him to. Without guilt, without conscience, and without hesitation. He was simply a killing machine on a leash, waiting for the word that allowed him to draw blood. But for now, those words hadn't come. So he continued his life. His facade.

She was leaning against the stump of a tree, the first thing capturing his attention being the impressive horn reaching up from her skull. The next thing he recognised was the fragility of her. The way her skeleton was visible, the sinking of her skin into the spaces were muscle and fat should have been.

She was a beautiful colour, he realised, as he drew closer. Zacharius moved slowly, careful not to appear too suddenly and startle her - maybe he was a little more self-conscious after startling the last mare he met here. But then he remembered the cuffs of silence on his fetlocks and how they muted his footsteps. So instead, he cleared his throat before speaking.

 "Greetings," his voice was soft but hardly any more than usual, "Are you alright, m'lady?"



gwynn


Citizen

Pacifist
 Young Adult, 2-3 yrs  Mare
 14.1 hh  600 lbs
15 Posts 80 points
 BailanduSilueta Offline
Posted on Jan 13 2018, 1:16 AM.
Reply  
#3

Thank goodness the man had approached when he did, else Gwynn might’ve truly fallen into another episode of sleep. In reality, they couldn’t just come about whenever she decided to take a nap. It was an obviously different feeling when an episode was approaching – far heavier, drowsier, strangely more pleasant than the feeling of taking a short slumber. Not that the fragile fae had any idea of the distinction between her own types of sleep, given her blissful unawareness of her condition.
 
One might argue that Gwynn’s obliviousness is somewhat of a blessing in disguise. If she does not know of the state she is in, the disease that has ravaged her body and caused her to become so ill, then she has nothing to fear from it. She can live in a world where her dreams are reality, as well as reality itself, and not live her life constantly anxious as to when she will next fall into her sleeping beauty type state. On the contrary, to any who have been by Gwynn’s side for a year or more, it is becoming increasingly obvious that the so-prettily named disease she holds so dear is in fact killing her at perhaps the most laborious pace known to man. She is so young, so innocent, so naïve that you could argue it entirely unfair she was chosen to be “sleeping beauty”. Fairy-tales are far too often painted in palettes of pretty pastel colours when nothing ever really ends quite so perfectly. It seems too optimistic, to be frank, to name Kleine Levin Syndrome after a princess who wakes up once she is kissed by her true love. Nobody can live the entirety of their lives watching through rose-tinted glasses. It’s simply not possible. Even if you should keep them on until your passing, they will eventually become clouded, scratched, the lenses might even break entirely. However, under these circumstances you might be led to believe that Gwynn’s obliviousness of her syndrome were, in fact, acting as her rose tinted glasses. Sooner or later, she would find out and the true colours of the world would be revealed, but for now at least, the glasses could be kept on.
 
She blinked her eyes open again at the sound of a gentle voice pointed in what sounded to be her direction. The mare was taken somewhat by surprise when she had to keep looking up, up, up to find the mouth from which the words had come. She was not the biggest creature around by any means, in fact it wasn’t at all hard to be taller than her. However, this man was bigger than anyone she’d encountered before.
 
Naivety and innocence radiated from the girl with such strength that this man didn’t scare her. No matter the amount of green goo oozing from his funnily elongated mouth, no matter the towering, hulking size of his body, or the shimmering oily scales that caged his flesh, she was wired to see everybody as somebody, and he was not a creature to be feared. Oftentimes it would come back to bite her, but it was a lesson she never managed to learn. Gwynn did her best to mask her struggle as she removed herself from the trunk she had leant against. Her legs trembled ever so slightly for a short moment, given that she had to stagger back a few steps to look at the stranger without craning her neck and giving herself cramp, but she straightened herself out and managed to look at least a little… not-broken.
 
Had she been in full health at the time, the grateful smile she cast at the stallion would’ve been glittering and joyful. As it was, it was still happy though far more subdued, almost a little apologetic. She replied to the man in a whisper of a voice; melodic and sweet but had it been any windier than it was he might’ve struggled to hear her. ”Hello, sir. I am very well, thankyou, and yourself?” it wouldn’t do to be an inconvenience to someone she had just met by explaining her predicament of fatigue and dehydration. ”and what is your name, might I ask?” it was asked as less of a formality and more a genuine curiosity. What on earth could such a curious, fascinating man be called?


gwynn
tag : Zacharius - notes : <3 <3 <3 
header image © martin jernberg on unsplash.com
html © bail




Citizen

Aggressor
 Adult, 5½ yrs  Stallion
 20.0 hh  2000 lbs
52 Posts 160 points
 Moseley Offline
Posted on Jan 13 2018, 5:46 PM.
Reply  
#4


She was... small. Tiny, in fact. Where she had to keep looking up, up and up to meet his gaze, he had to keep looking down, down and down to do the same. Well, this was awkward. At the very least, she didn't appear to find him intimidating. That was a bonus.

But still, he didn't know how to deal with this kind of situation. He was used to being taller than others, after all standing at 20hh meant you towered over most of the equine species. But he was not used to being in the company of those more than 5 hands shorted than him. He didn't like to use the term pony, because it was a rather patronising word. No, she was simply a short woman.

And clearly, she was not alright. But hey, she knows her own body better than he ever could, so Zacharius did not question her words. Besides, if she was on the cusp of death the only thing he was qualified to do was to make her end quicker and much less painful. He wouldn't even hesitate, not would it make a dent in his day.

"Pleased to hear that," he drawled, but he still felt uncomfortable, "And I am well, thank you for asking."

It was strange. Not often did others ask if he was well. Of course he was well. Zacharius was the epitome of health. The green slime dripping from his lips in its bucketloads was testament to that. Should it begin to dry up or change in consistency and colour, then Zacharius could be labelled ill. Even then, he would probably ignore it and take a swig of salt water.

"I am Zacharius, from the Carinae herd," he tipped his head slightly, one of his undersized ears tuned towards the surroundings and the other on the mare, "And yourself?"



gwynn Gentlemanly Zac is hard to write. o.o


Citizen

Pacifist
 Young Adult, 2-3 yrs  Mare
 14.1 hh  600 lbs
15 Posts 80 points
 BailanduSilueta Offline
Posted on Jan 14 2018, 12:51 AM.
Reply  
#5


If the mare was not mistaken, this new friend seemed to be more taken aback by her than she was by him. Considering the distinct excess of height he held over her, plus his elongated, green-dripping mouth, you would likely expect the exact opposite. She was merely small and frail, likely the only way in which she could cause intimidation was the apparent proximity of her next collapse.
 
Strangers didn’t tend to stick around with Gwynn for long, for this exact reason. Her blissful unawareness lent itself to a strange atmosphere of looming death for those around her. She was immune to it, herself, which was probably for the better, but it was not the best quality in regard to finding friends or even long-term acquaintances. Why would anyone want to stay with someone they aren’t wholly familiar with, just long enough to witness their untimely and laborious decline into death?
 
Tell me, if you could choose between befriending someone for the long-term and slowly watching them die, knowing there was nothing either you or them could do about it, or encounter someone you knew was going to die, help them briefly and then be on your way, what would you choose? I tell you, there are not many who would choose the former of my options, and of this I am relatively sure. Where there is no need to cause oneself excessive pain and trauma, any sane creature would choose not to encounter it. They can’t be blamed, but when you should find someone willing enough to dedicate their life to helping, even when they know that the end game is already defined, know that they are a rarity and should be treasured with every fibre of your being. Those people are special.
 
But this is all besides my point.
 
This new man, Zacharius as he named himself, reigned from a herd that called itself the Carinae. Gwynn had herd few things about any of the herds, but from what she had gathered, she assumed Carinae was one of the more peaceful of the 4. Whisperings of the Heretics were quick to burn the insides of her ears, and while nothing much seemed wrong with Lyrus or Crucis, they seemed a little hard-hitting for a girl as fragile as herself. She was in no fit state to go through any sort of trials or tribulations to find a home, and as for Lyrus, well, she merely was not suited well for hot climates. The mare needed somewhere she could at least try to be happy, and as fate would have it she had been approached by the herd she most favoured of all 4. Perhaps her initial judgements based on the little she had heard floating around Elysium would be wrong, but sometimes there is no harm in taking things for face value.
 
The man seemed uneasy, the way one ear tilted towards her and the other pivoted rhythmically on his poll as if listening for others who may approach or depart around him. She, as always, was quite oblivious to this and continued with her kind smile as if the stallion were entirely comfortable. He was being polite enough, kind enough, and after all he had been the one to approach her. It seemed there was nothing here that could go drastically wrong: for all her naïveté was worth, she was not completely useless at judging character.
 
”My name is Gwynn,” she dipped her head, too, mirroring Zacharius’ gesture. ”I hail from nowhere, in fact I am relatively new here.” from any ordinary homeless and sweet creature you might expect their voice to turn melancholy, or perhaps hopeful that their acquaintance was here to offer them a home. But not Gwynn; she was happy enough to have company. After all, he was not necessarily obliged to offer her anything.
 
”It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir!” there was still a note of tired excitement whispering from her quiet voice. Some emotions just cannot be subdued, even by deathly sickness.
 

gwynn
tag : Zacharius - notes : <3 
header image © martin jernberg on unsplash.com
html © bail




Citizen

Aggressor
 Adult, 5½ yrs  Stallion
 20.0 hh  2000 lbs
52 Posts 160 points
 Moseley Offline
Posted on Jan 16 2018, 3:39 AM.
Reply  
#6


It was quite the opposite inside the stallion's mind. A gentle paranoia, a conspiratorial and perpetual series of 'What If?'s ran through his mind as a constant. It was like the gentle thrumming of a song stuck in one's head, the background white noise when one had nothing more to think of. Only for him, it was this. What if someone sought to stick a dagger in my back this very second? What if there was a call to arms? What if a second war began? What if she turns on me? What is she is an assassin herself? What if she is the enemy?

Of course, it was highly unlikely. But still, he could not make it stop. Did not want to make it stop. Zacharius was perpetually paranoid. It had been trained into him since his birth. He had been bred to fight, bred to kill, bred to bring the war to an end. And he had. He had been shaped since before his birth into the man that stood before Gwynn this very second. He knew of nothing but the lurking danger in everything. Every second he spent breathing now was because he had survived. And he owed his survival to the paranoia most would be unable to bear.

He could not restrain the smile that tugged at his slime covered lips at the sound of her tired but cheerful voice and the sight of his mirrored head dipping. Politeness did pay off, after all.

"The pleasure is all mine, Gwynn," he drawled soflty in turn.

"Say," he continued, asking despite already knowing the answer for the sake of this gentlemanly poise he had found himself taking up, "Would you be interested in having somewhere to hail from? The Carinae herd resides in the Viridian Fields, quite a calm place I must add, bordering onto these lands. I'm sure the rest of the herd would welcome you with open arms."


gwynn Thanks for the rather scary insight into that brain of yours Zac o.o


Citizen

Pacifist
 Young Adult, 2-3 yrs  Mare
 14.1 hh  600 lbs
15 Posts 80 points
 BailanduSilueta Offline
Posted on Jan 17 2018, 10:44 AM.
Reply  
#7


Oftentimes, the mare’s happy-go-lucky attitude to her somewhat poor-quality life did her well in the way of finding friends and would-be acquaintances. Her innocence was charming, and her childlike excitement made people want to be around her, to see if such traits were infectious. Of course, no one is perfect and sooner or later she would begin to portray the occasional less savoury characteristic, but generally she was sweet and cheerful and the resounding reason for her lack of friends was that most of the time she was asleep.
 
It’s difficult to form, strengthen and maintain friendships when one side of the partnership is more often slumbering than awake.
 
Maybe some day the illness would let go of its hold on the mare and let her live a full life. From there, she would undoubtedly flourish and finally realise that this “happy” she’s been feeling in between episodes is not in fact the true meaning of happiness. Happiness is unwavering high energy, the ability to run and jump and scream and sing, the ability to remain in the waking world for more than a few hours without feeling like you are going to collapse.
 
Gwynn could’ve sworn the man’s voice was getting softer as it drifted into her pricked ears, but perhaps she was imagining things. He did not look like the sort of man to possess such a gentle melody in his speech, but I suppose everyone has their surprises. Maybe ordinarily this man was not so soft, but it was rather her façade of sickness and fatigue that had softened him. She was unaware to such changes in the way people approached her, most of the time at least, though this lent to an unbiased appreciation of the kindness from people who come to her aid. He spoke of a herd, The Carinae that dwell in the Viridian Fields, and the fae couldn’t help the smile that tugged relentlessly at her lips. Here was this kind man, offering her a home. Immediately she began to nod as enthusiastically as she could muster, the childlike innocence in her once again taking hold and controlling her actions. ”I would love that so much.” for a fleeting moment, the exhaustion in her voice had disappeared and been replaced with honest joy. ”Thankyou so much, Zacharius,” and there was no doubting how grateful she was.
 
The mare took another moment to look over the gargantuan man: her colossal horn nearly reached the height of his withers, but indeed the rest of her frame stood quite considerably shorter. Sometimes she wished the horn was not there, or at least lighter to carry than it was. It was unique and pretty, sure, and often gained the mare an amount of complimentary attention, but in her state she was not fit to carry some heavy lump of bone about on her crown. The jewels and adornments on her legs and ears were not such a worry. They were thin and lightweight, but at least they were removable. She watched the drops of goo as they slid from his mouth and splashed onto the ashen ground beneath him, and could hardly retain her curiosity at his peculiar genetic makeup. She usually endeavoured not to be nosy, particularly in the company of recent strangers, but today the questions pushed so hard at her closed lips she could not keep them out. ”Do you mind my asking, is there any purpose to that slime in your mouth?” it was asked as politely as you could imagine such a question being asked. She meant nothing rude by it – in fact she was more fascinated by the substance than horrified or disturbed by it – and could only hope the man wouldn’t take her curiosity the wrong way.


gwynn
tag : Zacharius - notes : <3 
header image © martin jernberg on unsplash.com
html © bail




Citizen

Aggressor
 Adult, 5½ yrs  Stallion
 20.0 hh  2000 lbs
52 Posts 160 points
 Moseley Offline
Posted on Jan 19 2018, 2:35 PM.
Reply  
#8

His voice may have softened, but it was not because of how tired or weak she seemed. Rather, it was because there was something refreshing about the innocence and naivety she seemed to possess. The flashes of emotion - although yes, they were somewhat drained it seemed - made it difficult for him not to. Even more so when she sounded simply ecstatic to be offered a place amongst the ranks of Carinae.

It was a strange idea, to him, that someone would look to a herd for something other than a leader to serve. He had been trained from the very beginning of his questionable life that his first duty was to serve his King. Whoever that may be, even if he didn't agree with them - it was for the greater good. Although Zacharius didn't disagree with anyone. He never had. Politics were not his forte. Fighting, killing, murdering, massacring, the slaughter of innocents... that was his area of expertise.

But that's not what this is about. At the moment, he was about as dangerous as a pink, fluffy poodle. With the new leader had come a shuffling of the ranks. Zacharius found himself filling the role of a commoner when he had been thriving slightly better as a knight. He longed to be a knight again. He needed to prove himself in some form. Just how should he do that?

Again, besides the point. Despite how uncomfortable he was he still managed to go off on a tangent. Not. Good.

"Again," he drawled, "It is entirely my pleasure."

Then she looked him over again, eyes following the path of the vibrant saliva dripping from his mouth and to the ground were it disappeared after a few moments. A small pool was beginning to form, and he found it amusing to see. In the fields, he left a trail of dead plantation behind him where the saliva dropped. Here, it had no effect at all - most of the plant life was dead anyway.

He had to laugh at her questioning. Again, no one had ever asked him that before. No one cared enough to know, or they were a little too terrified of him to ask. It was refreshing, even if it put him on the spot.

"It's... saliva. More acidic than it ought to be, if I'm not careful I'll be a menace to the botany of this place," he chuckled again, giving his short tail a flick. He didn't tell her about the way it drained his body of salt. The way it made him crave the taste of it, and how if he didn't have a regular intake of salt he would slowly go insane - the same way a normal equine would go insane and dehydrate from drinking sea water. She didn't need to know that. It was a weakness he held close to his chest, not wanting to give anyone an advantage over him with that little secret.

"So, Gwynn," he glanced over his shoulder towards the border between the fields and the dead forest, "Shall we get going?"

gwynn


Citizen

Pacifist
 Young Adult, 2-3 yrs  Mare
 14.1 hh  600 lbs
15 Posts 80 points
 BailanduSilueta Offline
Posted on 9 hours ago.
Reply  
#9


Any passer by might’ve thought the exchange between the two entirely peculiar. Amongst the size difference, the striking lack of similarities in physical appearance and the quite obvious contrast in physical health, they were not a pair likely to find each other in jovial conversation. If this were a case of celebrating diversity, though, then their meeting would’ve appeared quite fitting.
 
If Gwynn was any less naïve she might’ve been surprised by the polite character of the man whom had come to invite her to the Carinae. He was not the most typically approachable looking man, in fact one might suggest quite the contrary, even though he managed to pull the aesthetic off with a quite noble general demeanour. If his dripping green slime didn’t scare some of the weaker-minded off, then his mention of it being acidic plus his danger to nearby wildlife might’ve done just the trick. Maybe it was something about the way strangers never stuck around the ill mare for long that subconsciously willed her to look past the peculiar painting of this man’s exterior. It had served her well to be ignorant, after all, for it had ultimately gained her a place to call home.
 
For the first time in her life, Gwynn could serve beneath a royal, devoting her loyalty and dedication to her superior whilst knowing she had a safe shelter beneath which she could rest. Never before had she possessed a title that meant anything more than ‘wanderer’ and while ‘citizen’ was not much of a step higher, she would wear her citizenship sash with pride. Excitement was continuing to bubble up in the frail fae, as her hooves itched to dance merrily on the spot in anticipation to look over her new herdland. Despite this, her hooves remained planted firmly on the ground: while her emotional energy might’ve been running high, there wasn’t much to supplement that of her waning physical energy. Even remaining standing for too long was proving a dramatic exertion, and so excitable dancing would hardly have been a sensible activity.
 
As the man replied in a gentlemanly manner to her question, the mare could see the slightest smidgen of discomfort misted over his expression. His laugh was verging on jolly and so she giggled a little in response, but a part of her suspected there was something he was holding back. No matter, of course, for it was not her place to pry and if he did not feel comfortable in revealing anything more then that was his choice. They had only just met minutes prior, after all. She let her eyes flit once more to the pooling green beneath his chin and fluttered a soft smile. ”There are worse things you could be a menace to,” she replied with honest melody.
 
He spoke now of leaving, showing her the way to the Viridian Fields, and she watched with wide eyes as the man turned away from her and began a cautious pace towards the border of the Claiming Grounds. ”I can’t wait to see it,” she responded with a subdued note of anticipation. Nerves were brewing just slightly in her stomach, though they were mostly clouded by the ecstatic notion of seeing where she was going to live. She, too, turned on her heels and began to follow the scaled man a short distance away from his shoulder.
 
-exit gwynn & zacharius-


gwynn
tag : Zacharius notes : muchas gracias! finito <3
header image © martin jernberg on unsplash.com
html © bail






Forum Jump: