Eternal
Information
summer, year 3
Thick ice and continuously falling snow blanket the entirety of Eternal, brought upon by Noc's wrath. Shelter is scarce, and food even scarcer. There is no climate or biome that was lucky enough to find themselves safe from the beginnings of the Ice Age and so the residents of Eternal must don their primal survival instincts and to just that ─ survive. Ice blockages have grown supernaturally between the islands, blocking Sunsteppe from Sol and Eventide from Noc, effectively trapping each islander on whichever island they currently stand. The Dragonfrost and dusk leopards from Gleamleaf and greater boreus deer from Mountainfade have seeped into all of Noc, Eventide's spectors and Sunsteppe's sculptors have overrun the central island, and the wolves, Ice Piskys, and Creeping Thistle have invaded all of Sol.
OOC announcements
10.12.18 Noc has descended from the stars, and the reunion with his children, the three deities, is anything but happy. The whole of Eternal has been plunged into an Ice Age, and it seems that, for now, it's up to the deities to restore the islands. Will they be able to do so quickly enough? Or will the residents of Eternal know suffering because of the mishaps spread between Helios, Imbris, and Aya? For now, ice blockages have been erected between the islands, meaning that everyone is stuck where they currently are. Where is your character? Tell us here.

10.4.18 What?! An October raffle?!?!

9.22.18 Be sure to check out our gorgeous new map, complete with clickable links to your favorite territories!

8.4.18 Welcome to Winter, as Year 2 draws to a close! OTY Nominations will be up in a day or two ─ while we wait, please check out the Movie Night survey that was linked in our Discord!

7.28.18: Congratulations to the newest members of our team, our moderators Berb and Witty! Thank you so much to everyone who applied - we appreciate every single one of you.

7.24.18: The staff of Eternal are looking for their first MODERATOR! If you'd like to become a part of our team, click here to apply!

7.14.18 Round Two of the To Lands of Old Quest has been posted! Participants have until 11:59PM EST on July 28 to complete their rapid-fire old school battle posts. The information thread can be found >here!

7.1.18 Round One of the To Lands of Old quest can be found right here! Participants have until the night of the 8th to respond!

7.1.18: Welcome to version two: The Wreckage! Aya, Helios and Imbris have all created a beautiful sanctuary in which the characters we all know and love can come by to pay their respects, to place offerings, and seek counsel with the elusive deities. Furthermore, the database has been updated to reflect each level of an ability, the profiles have been given a complete overhaul, and our new layout is more streamlined than ever!

IC announcements
10.12.18 Noc has descended from the stars, and the reunion with his children, the three deities, is anything but happy. The whole of Eternal has been plunged into an Ice Age, and it seems that, for now, it's up to the deities to restore the islands. Will they be able to do so quickly enough? Or will the residents of Eternal know suffering because of the mishaps spread between Helios, Imbris, and Aya? For now, ice blockages have been erected between the islands, meaning that everyone is stuck where they currently are. Where is your character? Tell us here.

10.4.18 Whatever unknown thing that invaded the southern territories in the middle of spring has snaked its icy fingers out and enveloped those remaining territories that everyone had believed (or hoped) to be safe. Wolves, Creeping Thistle, Pesky Piskys, Blackrock's river... Not even Sunsteppe is safe from the intrusion, though it appears -- at least for now -- that the Wreckage remains untouched. Perhaps it should be investigated?

9.17.18 Something isn't right. Eternal still refuses to warm, even as we progress through spring and near summer. The southernmost territories have begun to notice some changes: from Greater Boreus Deer in Mountainfade, to Dragonfrost in Gleamleaf; frozen sandstorms in Astraldune, and even icy wraiths in Eventide. What happened? And what can be done to return the islands to normal?

9.2.18 Springtime has come, but the frigid winter still remains, enveloping the three islands in ice, snow and brutal wind. There are no flowers, nor grass - no foliage at all. The animals are beginning to suffer, as they emerge from hibernation or birth their young, struggling to find sustenance. The air is thick with tension, as a wretched and unforgiving storm brews still in the distance - will Eternal find reprieve from the cold?

8.4.18 Round Three of the To Lands of Old quest has been posted! The remaining participants have one week to get their posts in. Good luck and have fun!

7.27.18 Astraldune is under new leadership! In the wake of Solomon's disappearance, Helios has placed Gryffen into leadership!

6.26.18 Helios has appeared in Sunsteppe! What could he be doing there?

6.19.18 With magic from Imbris, Totem has been gifted with a daughter of her own, molded from clay and infused with a piece of her own soul. Make sure to check out the thread here!

6.1.18: Welcome to Summer!

5.26.18: The Grotto has been unveiled! Imbris paid a visit to Nymphetamine in Prismacove and led him on an underwater adventure to the Grotto, effectively creating a new sub-board for the residents of Prismacove to explore!

Character of the Year:
LELL
Couple of the Year:
HADERUS & GYPSY
Thread of the Year:
ASTRALDUNE TAKEOVER
TO LANDS OF OLD [ROUND 1]
Deity

83 Posts
17 Threads
GENDER:
Mare
AGE:
Immortal
SPECIES:
ORIENTATION:
DOMICILE:
Homeless
ABILITIES:
Magic
[Advanced]
PLAYED BY:
Sii
#1
TO LANDS OF OLD: ROUND 1
For our first round, the rules are simple:
- Each participant will be given a writing prompt. Each post must be written with old school RP lingo.
- Your characters will be able to utilize their abilities for this round.
- Characters do not exist in the same realm for this round; your prompts are entirely your own. They can't see or hear any of the other participants.
- Your character will be able to understand any creature it encounters.

There is no word minimum or maximum. At the end of each round, some characters will be eliminated from continuing. Keep in mind that these posts will be graded on clarity, use of old school lingo, and creativity. I suggest using this page, as it is a great resource.

PS. Don't forget t' use 'e, sh', th' and 'tis for bonus points ;)

YOU HAVE UNTIL 11:59PM EST ON JULY 8 TO COMPLETE YOUR PROMPT.

Nikoline
Every equine is born with two markings, one on each flank. One matches your soulmate, and one matches your worst enemy. Most have no idea which is which, but you do ─ because they are both the same.

Eris
"You're not allowed to die, okay?" she makes you promise, tears still flowing down her cheeks. That was 200 years ago now; you don't know what she did, but your promise still holds strong.

Caspian
Your territory is on fire. Everyone escapes to the west, while you escape to the east. When you go unaccounted for, you are presumed dead. You've accidentally faked your own death and decided to roll with it.

Fleur
Everyone has their secrets, but you just found a super villain's lair hidden in the depths of your territory ─ and it belongs to the one you love.

Wish
You are a powerful and and mystical genie. For the first time in millennia, you are awakened. When you look down at your new master, you see a newborn foal pawing at your lamp.

Deathwish
You're part of a community that lives on an island with no other land in sight. When a crime is committed, the person responsible has to go "find more land" to redeem their honor. No one has yet to return. You've just been caught stealing.

Dante
You're a hitman with a conscience ─ before every kill, you help your victim check something off their bucket list.

Ellyse
In life, you were the greatest thief who ever lived. But, as tends to happen, you are now the greatest thief who ever died. However, it was on purpose: you've set your sights on stealing something from death itself.

Elysia
You are greeted by two of your children from the future, each from a different timeline. You must decide which timeline to follow and which child to give up.

Scylla
You're a killer, dumping your latest victim into the river. Just as you're about to be done, you spot another horse doing exactly the same thing. And they've just spotted you, too.

Diable Rouge
You live in a world where your soulmate is unable to hurt you, intentionally or otherwise. You are fighting in a war when when one of the enemies attacks glances harmlessly off of you.

Aeoloni
A serial killer tortured and murdered you, but unbeknownst to him, you're immortal. You spend the rest of his life tormenting him by pretending to be a ghost.

Lell
Every foal is taken away from their parents at birth and returned when they reach four years old. They never remember what happened in those years or who took them, but they always recognize their parents. You, however, remember everything ─ and those aren't your parents.

Khumba
There's a ghost in your territory, but instead of trying to kill you or scare you, it just likes to do the tiny little things that piss you off the most.

Rietta
Something in the ritual went horribly wrong, and instead of the demon possessing you, you possess the demon.

AuroraElis
You accidentally get sent to hell instead of heaven, and Satan says you can just hang out with him until he and God get things sorted out. Meanwhile, you grow more and more accustomed to the place you're in.



All prompts from writing.prompt.s @ tumblr & pinterest

[Image: 2cSoOp8.gif]
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Water Healer

29 Posts
5 Threads
GENDER:
Mare
AGE:
7 Immortal
SPECIES:
Unicorn
ORIENTATION:
Heterosexual
DOMICILE:
Astraldune
ABILITIES:
Griffin Physiology
[T1 - Intermediate]
Water Healing
[T2 - Intermediate]
Sound Wave Generation
[T3]
PLAYED BY:
Neo
#2

How sh' comes to rest here is beyond 'er understanding.  Another portal of death has found 'er but 'tis not what is expected.  How had sh' pissed the Gods off this time?  'Twas 'er life not well spent healing those harmed?  Standing on alabaster pistons, 'er auditory funnels twist about 'er regal crown.  Swirled galaxies seek through ash and soot just where sh' has come to rest.  Heated vapors plum from crevices in the otherwise solid landscape below 'er.  Hues of slated obsidian jet high into the heavens around 'er, with a ruby glow illuminating their cragged lengths.  Shadows dance along the stone walls of beings that stand upright with two curled horns upon their heads and a forked tail.  Leaning back onto 'er hunches, sh' is prepared to flee this dark place, when suddenly a voice booms from above(or was it below).

"Who goes there?!"

Twisting around, sh' sees nothing appear and wonders if 'er auditory senses have played a cruel trick on 'er.  Silent sh' remains, occult's searching for a form or figure nearing, but alas none is found.  With a step forwards 'er irons clip the stone below and echo throughout the stony cliffs.

"How dare ye trespass in 'y Kingdom!" The voice vibrates again, rattling pebbles loose.  

Galaxies look down to find 'erself standing on a narrow bridge of rock suspended above a river of flowing magma.  Her voice quakes as sh' attempts to answer, "I..I 'tam sorry for the intrusion... but I 'tam afraid I'm lost."  Her voice is meek and unsure, "Can ye help me?"

A cackle erupts around 'er.  Echoing in 'er satellites and causing 'er daggers to shift with the waning of the rocky land bridge.  Pacing nervously and occults wide in panic, sh' bolts forwards.  Muscular tendons flex allowing 'er to extend 'er gait into a 3-beat rhythm.  The thick curtain of 'er mane streams behind 'er nape as sh' attempts to escape certain death.  The bridge appears longer than sh' anticipates, nar finding an end.  

Just as sh' is about to collapse from exhaustion, heated fingers wrap around the bulk of 'er bod.  Pistons go limp and dangle below 'er as sh' 'tis seemingly flying through the dank atmosphere.  Galaxies watch as the bridge of stone crumbles and falls into the heated lava stream below.  A dark form is rising from the hot melted rock and that is when sh' realizes whatever 'twas, was holding 'er.  

They rise high into the stars above, where a rocky plateau stretches endlessly.  The scorching embrace around 'er is released and sh' plummets to the hard lands.  Irons scrape at the stone to seat 'er bulk upright.  The ivory of 'er pelt now stained a charcoal, sh' scrambles to look into the profile of 'er captor.  Whatever it was held curved daggers upon its cranium and a twisted profile.  Its' flesh looked to be composed of the lava itself, glowing red-hot and ever-changing.

"What 're ye doing here?!" It says bitterly with a scowled expression.  Molted rock dripped from its fangs as it awaited explanation.  With an upturn of 'er pools, sh' stares in disbelief at the being before 'er.  In an almost whimper 'he answers, "I do not know 'twhere I am nor how I have come to be 'ere" Her voice is frail and pleading of mercy.  Ivory mass trembles in fear as sh' watches its profile tilt is confusion.  "Ye 're in hell child," It offers a bit softer this time.

Suddenly everything makes sense, to a point.  Straightening 'er frame, sh' watches who sh' imagines is Satan before 'er.  "I... I think 'here has been a grave mistake,"  Sh' states boldly.  Its' brow spikes upwards as if mistakes were not often made.  "Thy should be in heaven... Not hell," is all sh' can think of to say. 

It seems to understand and nods, twisting around while instructing 'er, "Stay 'ere.  I whilst contact thines messenger to seek answers... Please, make ye'self at home in the meantime".  With a blink of 'er lids, 'e has disappeared and sh' is left to look about.  Finding nothing but endless darkness, sh' shifts nervously on alabaster stilts...  

AuroraElis

Not all that Glitters is Gold

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the invisible monster

63 Posts
12 Threads
GENDER:
Mare
AGE:
14
SPECIES:
ORIENTATION:
DOMICILE:
Gleamleaf
ABILITIES:
Telepathy
[T2 - Intermediate]
True Sight
[T3]
PLAYED BY:
Stormie
#3

I'm an invisible monster,
and I'm incapable of loving anybody.
You don't know which is worse.


Th' alabastor and steel bruja made her way to the golden shores of the ravine. Below, emerald waves of water ebb and wane. In her maw, she dragged th' stag who dared to cross the mighty succubus. 'is crimson orbits now lackluster from life and the sanguine dribbled from his nape as her incisors gripped and pulled again. His bulk was heavy but her physique was lithe and capable. His own creamed mass now stained with the lifeblood spilt by her countance. She had made sure that th' he-devil never again had the chance to violate another maiden.

Th' witch pushed through the terra firma until she reached the water's edge. Twin pools look around as her countenance turned before she dragged the carcass into the water and turned, her slate pistons kick out sending the deceased to it's watery tomb. The murderess feels estatic as her tormentor was sent to the watery depths of hell. It is only when there is a second splash that her twin pinnicles prick in a downstream direction. Dark mahogany chasms widen in surprise as another equus has pushed another lifeless corpse into the depths of azure. Frozen, the enchantress wonders if the other is a mirage. Using 'er psychic powers, she reaches out, to find a cerebrum very differnt than her own. The silvery hag's auds pin  back against her poll in a mixture of choleric fear and she charges. The columns cover the terra firma briskly. She would make sure that there were no remaining occulus with life present at this river other than her own.

The strange stud meets her head on, 'is mind filled with agitation and cowardice at being discovered in 'is misdeeds. Scylla's feathered appendages spread to balance her as the titans clash with thunderous hits on both sides with flints striking and fangs snaking forward to try and catch the neck to crush to windpipes. A single swoop of the magnificent ivory features and she pushes him back. Her mind's modulation wails like the banshee she was to stun him. The obsidian brute falls back, stumbling on sharp river rocks from the throbbing in his head and Scylla's slate hoof strikes out, pummeling him repeatedly and not letting 'im arise.  Thorns hardly listened to his pleas of mercy and his firm form soon gives way to a more pliable substance. His charcoal pelt now slick with his own maroon blood relaxes as the last bit of life ebbs out of him and a sickening crack of his dial gives way beneath her hooves.

Triumphant, her moonwash'd crown elevates skyward and labias part to release a scream to the heavens that she alone would survive and continue to dominant.

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the chaser

58 Posts
19 Threads
GENDER:
Male
AGE:
10
SPECIES:
ORIENTATION:
DOMICILE:
Astraldune
ABILITIES:
Force-Field Manipulation
[T2 - Intermediate]
Cold Immunity [T3]
PLAYED BY:
Liv
#4
Diable Rouge
>
The terra around him is stoic, if for just this fleeting moment. The mahogany-spotted beast stands plaidly at the front lines, ultramarine opticals staring pugnaciously at the opponents before him. Hardy stone armor plates his back up towards his crown and down to his trap, a sign of the incumbent war he has been placed in charge of. Diable Rouge has left everything - his cadre, his lil’ones, but most importantly ‘is fae, the pastel and honeyed maiden, AuroraElis. It has been weeks since he’s last laid his orbs on her angelic face, and he’d be lying if he said his concupiscence wasn’t making concentrating difficult.

She could do no harm to him (that being said, no ladylove he’d ever had could wrench him either). It was a strange occurrence in this world - Love didn’t hurt, at least not how it should. He’d had many a concubine, but Aurora was truly was ‘is doe. Just thinking of the way her svelte ivory bodice felt next to him was enough to make him envisage a lustful nightfall with ‘er.

Never mind that now. The battle was about to begin, he could sense it as his sorrel hair horripilates upon his crest. Velveteen kissers pull up into a piqued snarl, each one of his denticles showing in clear abhorrence of his enemy. Soon, he feels the pull of his long pillars guiding him onward, satellites pressed firmly to his cranial casing.

“CHARGE!” Diable Rouge roars belligerently, as he navigates his troops to decimate their foes. The sod is packed tightly beneath his pistons, and the blue yonder luminates the plentiful flora of the soon to be bloodwash’d battleground. Thundering shanks from both sides pound in his lobes - he must focus, he must win. This was for the crowned head of his band, this was for all the horses he held dear.

The bloodbath is imminent, as he opens up his trap to bare down upon an incoming antagonist. Pulling his labarims away from the opposing stallion, he can rightly see that he has drawn a cull of crimson liquid. The colossal aperture causes the buck to pull away, giving Diable Rouge enough time to rise up and bring his lithe mass upon him. The wounds inflicted are lethal enough, but the stampede of warriors will show him his inevitable fate soon.

On to the next one, a seasoned veteran on this playing field. Vigorous chomping, bucking, and rearing tear through the devils before him, each falling to their deaths below his appendages. Flame-licked chassis turned away, he does not notice the armored appending doom sneaking towards ‘im. “Watch out!” A fellow knight calls, and Diable Rouge yanks around to find the culprit’s ivory pearls staring back at him.

He braces himself, but alas, nothing becomes of it. Puzzled, amber stag opens cobalt eyes, glancing to the demon who’d attacked ‘im. Ashen silks fall from beneath heavy moonwash’d armor. The beginnings of an indigo and emerald plume peaking out from between ‘er dreads. There is only one he knows that possesses this trait.

“Aurora?” he queries, vexed beyond belief. Brows furrow, confusion and animosity mixing to form a disgusted look. A wordless reply befalls him as her flaxen-dusted maw curls into a naughty Cheshire grin.

“NO!”.
im not afraid of leaving, not of god & not of death.
Reply

48 Posts
5 Threads
GENDER:
Female
AGE:
Old Enough
SPECIES:
ORIENTATION:
DOMICILE:
Mountainfade
ABILITIES:
Lepus Constellation Physiology
[T1 - Intermediate]
Stardust Manipulation
[T2 - Intermediate]
Color Changing
[T3]
PLAYED BY:
Kristin
#5
‘Tis th’ beginning of th’ minuscule maiden’s tale and what a tale it ‘tis! For she began it as a wee babe snatched from the source’s tit as dribbles of milk ran down ‘er whiskery chin. Small dismal bleats rose up from ‘er gullet to scrape past ‘er flaxen labia. Th’ pugnacious beast barreled past the cadre and cut all the lambs from their matrons’ sides. Every svelte lamb amongst them cried their abhorrence from leaky orbs and maws. 

Over time, most of them forgot.
Not Lell. Sh’ remembered everything. Everything! Right down to the burly sere brute that had snapped his choppers at her little sticks as sh’ tried to run on ahead of him. Lell even remembers the russet seductress that called them close and sang the wee babes to sleep upon the cushiony terra firma. But the sepia dame could give them no milk and little comfort in the way of nickers n’ whinnies. 

So most of them forgot - except Lell who had to keep her cranium down to avoid suspicion because she knew something foul was afoot! 

One year passed. Then two. Lell and th’ others grew from sprouts to saplings straight and true. Little bucks teased the pretty does and fought with one another. It seemed like such a euphoric halcyon time. But sh’ began to notice how the juvenile band was thinned. Those that left just ne’er came back. The tawny lass would watch with troubled chasms and pricked lobes as the ashen stud or bloody wench would come and take a chosen sapling away.

Once sh’ had tried inquiring as to th’ whereabouts of these fawns but the only retort was acrimonious followed by ivories snapping inches from her honeyed facade. Lell grew dour in her minuscule stalk of the domain. Sometimes, she would glance up at the azure firmament until her orbs hurt from the brilliance of it. 

It was during one of these doldrums that the pasty brujo came for ‘er. His zenith snaked towards her and she feared back, raising her front pillars to him in desperation. But he was not to be deterred. His maw clamped down on her nape and the beast shook her like a wet dog shakes its fur until sh’ gave in with a yelp of submission.

With auds threaded back into the mess of ashen dreads, the stud drove the little lamb forth through prickly foliage and over dry verdure that she longed to snatch a mouthful of because sh’ feared it might be ‘er last. He ne’er let her rest or eat. Maybe a sip or two to slake ‘er thirst and that ‘twas all. Lell abhorred him with every breath. Schemes on how to escape him but every chance was stolen from her by his stained pearls and hard glittering pools. Finally they reached a familiar habitat and both a lord and his matriarch came to greet them.

More specifically ‘er. 
The ashen stud turned his countenance to ‘er and tried to say these were ‘er parents. Lell knew otherwise and balked, planting all four titaniums in the loam. “NO!” sh’ roared like a mighty lion defending his pride. The brute beside ‘er shook his skull in warning but Lell was too upset to heed it. His pearls sank in the honeyed haunch just a bit but still had all the threat and intent of lacerating the silky coat of gold sh’ wore further than just one wee bite.

Lell stomped a pillar in protest. Somehow she managed to keep from crying out as pain blossomed in her haunch and crawled up her spine to nibble at ‘er brain. It hurt! But sh’ refused to give ‘im the satisfaction of a response. Instead sh’ remained rooted to th’ spot as the sire and dam began to call out breathy reassurances through their nostrils.

“Honey, we’re yer ma and pa!” exclaimed the grand harlot. Beside ‘er the lord looked on with a concupiscence in his blazing lanterns. “Yes darling, you are ours.” he echoed with a leering sneer on his labia. He even licked his labrums in a lascivious fashion that made Lell shudder in disgust. Sh’ began to shake her cranium in denial. “No! No! NO!”

Sh’ smacked into the sere brute with her tiny bodice in an attempt to decimate him. The killing look was in ‘er optics as sh’ kicked and hissed and brayed like a bee-stung donkey at th’ injustice if it all. “I remember!” she screamed and hollered. “I remember! I remember! I remember EVERYTHING!!!” then began to lash out with bucks and kicks at the trio amassed before her. 

Lell saw it all play before ‘er spheres again: infants nipped and driven from their mommas’ sides by mindless savages. Maidens that never even called to their babes or watched them go. They just turned as one big harem to the remaining studs and disappeared in the emerald verdure. Almost like they were ghosts or magicked away! 

Then came the jaded march behind the russet witch with the ashen warlock bringing up the rear. They were marched past piles of deflated skin and used up bones that might once have been boastful equine like themselves. Only now Lell remembers the truth of it — body snatchers! 

“Where are my real parents?! Where are they?” Incensed, sh’ strikes at them but they dodge ‘er blows as if they are gods or enlightened aliens. Probably the latter. Eventually ‘er ire is spent and sh’ stands there lathered in sweat and panting. ‘Er dial hangs between ‘er pistons as sh’ mumbles one last fatigued protest - “You’re not my parents!”

Sh’ feels a small mix of piss and vinegar buoy her up as sh’ squares before them again even as the ashen brute stands right behind ‘er - chest to rump to absorb any attempts to kick. ‘Er labia peel back exposing the pearls within slick with saliva and hare as sh’ neighs rather loudly and impudently at them. “BODY SNATCHERS!!!” sh’ screams and screams until the other tawny lord turns on his haunch and aims a kick at ‘er head to shut her up.

The last thing Lell hears as the world fades to black is the lord talking sweet to his lady about how youthful she’ll look again once sh’ sucks the life right out of little Lell’s bones. 
If they knew all about you,
They'd end up loving you, too.
Reply
Alvena Henrietta

23 Posts
5 Threads
GENDER:
Mare
AGE:
7
SPECIES:
ORIENTATION:
DOMICILE:
Blackrock
ABILITIES:
Hydroportation [T3]
PLAYED BY:
ember
#6
Aww... an empty chest is like an empty bed. What a waste!

Prompt: Something in the ritual went horribly wrong, and instead of the demon possessing you, you possess the demon.

"So, you're telling me that you'll give me anything I want?"
'Tis correct.'

T'is too good to be true, certainly, as the auburn feathers atop 'er dial quiver in excitement, just as the plumage at the tip of 'er whip swishes through th' air. Th' temptress stands before 'er, a seductive and alluring smile across 'er svelte bloodless maw, awaiting th' lass's response.

Emerald orbs observe hesitantly, but Rietta cannot deny th' shiver of excitement that courses through 'er lithe frame, "I want my family back. Papa, his crew, everything I've lost."

Be careful what ye wish for...


In an explosion of bronze and gold, th' tundra beneath 'er daggers erupts in an almost volcanic manner, with feathers pouring out of th' roof of hell itself. But wait. Those aren't her own pillars! A look of perplexity washes o'er 'er face, and the feathery crest atop 'er tiara flares in curiosity before realising what happened, and 'er cranium quickly turns this way and that to see what changed.

"Whoaaaa, what?! This is WAY better!" Ivories are exposed as 'er maw opens in a grin as it clicks what has just happened; instead of th' demoness possessing 'er, sh' has possessed the demoness! Appearing now as a mix of the two, th' once lithe russet chassi is now a ghastly achromatic, with silvered feathery appendages, and chalky lavender occuli.

'Get out of me! This was NOT how this was suppose to work!'

Th' nymph can hear th' cries of the demoness within but ignores th' pleading as sh' dances around on the spot, ecstatic as ever. Gazing about 'er envrion, Rietta noticed the plethora of feathers that lay at 'er feet. "What the hell is this, a joke?!" Sh' cries indignantly, demanding answers from th' demoness, who 'he can hear laughing in 'er audits. Where is 'er Forebear? Th' crew? Sh' sees only feathers.

Fool child, you asked for all things you have lost. These are all the feathers you have lost in your life.

"Ha ha, very funny. Well, jokes on you, cos I've got control of you now, and I'll just give myself what I wanted, and you can deal with it. I ain't gonna be your puppet, bitch, I'm the puppeteer now." Velvet kissers turn into a grin as 'er columns begin to move as th' now-ashen wench saunters off across earth's face to wreak her own havoc with th' blue yonder smiling down on 'er.

'I WILL DECIMATE YOU, YOU LITTLE HEATHEN. GET OUT OF ME, NOW!'
"Sorry, can't hear you sweetie, I've got a crew and a sire to bring back."




Rietta
Speech | Thought | Sounds Like


((canidienowplease))
Reply

3 Posts
2 Threads
GENDER:
Mare
AGE:
7
SPECIES:
ORIENTATION:
DOMICILE:
Homeless
ABILITIES:
Light Manipulation
[T2 - Intermediate]
PLAYED BY:
Hoofbeats
#7
Prompt: A serial killer tortured and murdered you, but unbeknownst to him, you're immortal. You spend the rest of his life tormenting him by pretending to be a ghost.

T'was as the lil' twining of fate would have it, the mere blessings of immortality bestowed upon one worthy of such award - that th' one who passes into the void t'would come back to haunt one deigned to such terrors.

T'all started as the femme's svelte alabaster body lie upon the floor, crimson liquid seeping from abyssal wounds. Azure optical pools were glazed over in death, cloudy as a snow-kissed winter firmament. The foulest of beasts stood over 'er, a smokewash'd demon whose scarlet orbs sparkled with a bellicose lust. His ashen maw dripped th' damsel's life-giving liquid as his cruel har-de-har echoed through the cavern. Finally he turned his behemoth bodice and left 'er visage lying in th' foulest of dirt.

'Ere is where things change, and th' spindles of fate look up for th' lithe maiden, and full of endless despair for th' tainted man who bid foul deeds towards those most innocent of heart.

'T started with th' subtle beating of 'er curved chest, the wheezing breath of 'er lungs. The void could not hold the lil' woman, nor could death claw it's wiry fingers under 'er alabaster coating. T'was after several long hours of silence, only broken by the hushed dribble of dew on the rock shelter's walls, that the doe rose from th' silence of 'er stupor.

T'was then that she sought the demon out. Searching far and wide for the charred hues of his shroud. She sought vengeance. Justice for those lost to his filthy inclinations. She had fated his soul was due for haunting. T'would be but a breath of time for 'er, but a lifetime for him. Perhaps t'would change his inclinations, the subtle murmur of his malicious thoughts. T'was then that she found 'im. 'Ere he laid resting his scum-crusted maw, head twirling with blighted dreams of hatred and despair, and it was 'ere that she rose over the moonlight'd topography.

"He-demon" she spake, 'er voice rolling over the hills, light and misty as a ghost. Her silver flesh gleamed in the dim light, shimmering as a sprite, a denizen of time long past, to him in his half-witted slumber. "He-demon. I have come to haunt you for the rest of your days. Repent ye. Repent ye of thou crimes. The innocent lives foul'd by your musty breath, your bloodthirsty motives. Ye are naught but scum of the earth. Repent ye for thou deeds, or live a life of terror." T'was as her voice echoed through the valley, over the rolling terra, that his skin shivered, and his voice shook. He felt half-drowsed fear, but his soul was full of abhorrence, a bitter anger of death and despair.

"Banshee, she-devil, witch, I wilt not fear thee. No, thou art but a figment of my imagination, and dream come upon me in mine own sleep. You make tales, but you are simply a part of my conscience that I have not rid myself of. Now off with thee! Never return! I do not fear thee! I do not!" Though the words from his foul chops were but a lie, he spoke with fervor, determined to sound dauntless. Yet it was not so. As he shook in his shroud, shivering under foolish argument, the maiden smirked. Indeed, he deserved haunting, and as he shook in fear, she conspired many nights of terror for him, ways he would realize that escape was futile. He would repent of his cruel deeds, or suffer the fate of a madman, haunted by a woman immortal.

"Then thou art a fool. If thou doest not repent, than thou shall suffer the fate of a fool. So be it. If thou deign to be haunted, than thy nights will be spent in terror. Rest will flee you as the stars flee the dawn. Tremble. Tremble. For vengeance is coming."

With that, the alabaster maiden turned her frame. Into the night, where she rose upon downy appendages, plotting the next night, and 'he terror she could bring the scoundrel.


"Aeoloni Speaks"
Aeoloni Thinks

Word Count: 669
Muse: 9/10
Notes: I can't take this seriously xDDD

There are no wrong turnings.
Only paths we had not known
we were meant to walk.
aeoloni
image | coding
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the dryad

62 Posts
13 Threads
GENDER:
Mare
AGE:
Immortal, appears four.
SPECIES:
ORIENTATION:
DOMICILE:
Astraldune
ABILITIES:
Plant Manipulation
[T1 - Intermediate]
Mental Immunity
[T3]
PLAYED BY:
Elle
#8
Nikoline
amidst the mists and coldest frosts
he thrusts his fists against the posts
She stands against the lay out of clear topography, a sky of azure and clear warm rays of Helios. A blessed creature of flora and fauna, upon wooden pistons, accentuating the slimness of her carefully chiseled bodice . She stares across the blank horizon as the features of her facade crinkle with fret as she had seem the appearance of the markings upon her gently rolled haunch. The length of her perfumed whipcord flickers across her rump, her velveteen maw pressed against in the flat form of a slight frown, the dark orbs of her visage matching the storm of her brow.

The doe has seen the approach of the marking upon her splendid hip, and omen, a cursed marking of lore. Either curve is the same, there was not devil enemy and not mark of a blessing. It was one and the same! It was the mark of tiger's claw, red and bloodied upon her lovely form. She lay marked and tainted! Bah! The femme fatale, youthful and supple, is cursed! And who should meet this mark? But her fondest and ole companion, TIGER'S CLAW?! (Whaaat?!) He dearest companion since dear, sweet foalhood.!

The lengthy appendages draw her over moist oils, one nail sink in at a time as she called to the zebra striped brute, nares flaring salmon pink as pinnacles waltzed forward in the thatch of blossoms that were her tassels. "Tigeh's Clau!" (Suddenly Nikoline had developed a french accent!) "What is zis? 'ow can zis be? What trick-ah-ry is zis?!" She demand's with the sashay of her femine chassis, kissers pursed in a slight pout as she confronted the hulk of the masc' form. The striped equine bared ivory incisors, stained with emerald grasses, he had secretly hated her and loved her all the same! He had had spent eons in efforts to ruin the pure form of the willowy dove but ll along he had loved her with all of his broad brutish form! "Nikoline!" The Gladiator, God, King, Prince, Baron, Duke, Wizard stud of a horse sweeps close, prancing before lowering his head into a deep sweeping bow, his maw touching the blades of vegetation before the crest rises to elevate the crown of his devilishly handsome poll, boa snaking out to curl around the slight for of the pixie waif to draw her close before pressing the soft pillowed lips to her glistening brow. "I can not resist any long, I love you with every stroke of my fired soul and beat of my anguished heart."


((Aaaand scene! Fade to black))
[and still insists he sees the ghosts]
HTML by Witty- art by AM Lorek Photography
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16 Posts
6 Threads
GENDER:
Mare
AGE:
5
SPECIES:
ORIENTATION:
DOMICILE:
Homeless
ABILITIES:
Necromancy [T1-Beginner]
Pyroportation [T3]
PLAYED BY:
Elle
#9

Eris

Sing Your Death Song

'er form 'ad been ova beautiful sunset, crested in the sharply painted forms of a bloodeh sunset, red drippin' down a canvas of burnt siennah. The pale femme' 'had watched 'ow tears 'ad' welled upon' her eyes, crystal and glistenin' in the warm rays of golden light. Eris 'ad wished she could understood why it must be so but she was but ah young lass amongst the grown witches.

"You're not allowed to die, okay?" Eris 'ad nodded frivolously in agreement. It 'ad been nearly 200 years...many moon since the day of 'er passing and the framed portrait of 'er death mask. What voodoo 'ad been cursed upon the pale beaut? Eris slender form still as sinewy and strong 'as the day she 'ad should of died. Dove's Last Cry 'ad been a sweet enchantress of gentle  honey'ed molasses pools, a charmin' quiet smile, and petite doe bodice. Crystal pearls well upon 'her own orbs as she remembered 'er promise and knew she would neveh die...but Eris would find a way to see the sacred Dove's Last Cry again even it it meant sacrifice of her own ugly soul for the good ''of anotha bein' to see 'er friend again amongst the great gods and goddesses above.

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