eat sh*t and die } LUPEI - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: Live (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=17) +--- Forum: The Chamber (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=22) +--- Thread: eat sh*t and die } LUPEI (/showthread.php?tid=6970) |
RE: eat sh*t and die } LUPEI - Rhonan - 02-26-2016 cliff notes: - Sends a darkness blanket to cover Killdare when he attacked Joscelin, and then heals his wounds (light inflicted wounds can only be semi-healed, not completely) - Semi-heals Demian's wounds - Sends two shadow wolves after Joscelin - Sends a shadow coyote after Weir/really after Darwin RE: eat sh*t and die } LUPEI - Ramiel - 02-26-2016 War He hears of its commencement in his head, not by way of the deep rumbling drums he’d expected, but as a clear and steady voice. It startles him because he can’t place the voice. He can’t discern anything about the telepathic caller: gender, age, side – and it disturbs him deeply. Is it a frightened child lingering on the fringes of the battlefield? Is it a mare downed by the first strike of one side or the other? Is it an enemy, drawing them to their doom? War, and it’s first victim, Ramiel thinks bitterly to himself, even as he prepares to head into it. Because no matter who is responsible for the call (be it a Chamber stallion or a Gates mare), they will not be unaffected by what they’ve done, by the violence and chaos they are calling to their sides. Any and all who respond will be casualties, their lives forever changed by the madness of this fight. War is a behemoth, a titan that pulls apart the land and maims its people. Everyone will be a victim by its end. The ghost-king’s meeting with the khaleesi is still fresh in his mind as he seeks out the others. The Dale is on their side – for better or for worse – and he knows exactly what and who compromises their side. By the numbers, it should be a decisive victory (which had been a large part in determining the Dale’s involvement in the war at all). But of course, plans and expectations are like the wind, always changing and unreliable. The fact that they are a force of four kingdoms against two means less than it should in this age of unimaginable powers and wily magicians. They should win. They might not win. And though he prepares to head for the Chamber almost immediately, there are a few issues he needs to address before he goes. But almost as soon as he thinks it, ice begins to rise along their borders in a glistening wall. It extends as far as Ramiel can see into the treeline, and even if he can see no further, he is sure Weir hasn’t left one square foot unprotected. All of the non-essentials (the few children and residents that remain in the quiet kingdom) have been tucked away into the center of the Dale, leaving the rest to head out as soon as the call was made. Now that it has been, the fighters are meant to meet just outside of the Chamber. There is nothing left to do but rendezvous with the others. With a final, desperate look back into his beloved home (wondering if he’ll see it again, wondering if he’ll survive to see his mother or father or Ea or anyone he cares about) he disappears beyond the ice wall. Snow blows fiercely just outside of the protected kingdom. The wind shakes the pines and deciduous trees violently. Some have already fallen, their broken silhouettes visible for one second before the snow swallows them up again. It doesn’t affect Ramiel, however. The snow passes through his invisible, intangible form as he makes his way through the blizzard. The distance between the Dale and Chamber is not long, and the closer he gets to the dark kingdom, the warmer it gets. Snow is quickly replaced by smoke, and the acrid smell fills his nostrils. He stifles the snorts that threaten to give away his hidden location. If he can remain invisible, perhaps he can aid the others without them even realizing it (without the enemies even realizing it). Flames billow up into the heavens as he reaches the edge of the Chamber. There is a narrow gap in the trees not engulfed by fire – the only way into the kingdom – and it is here that he imagines the others will be. But no other Dalean waits at the rendezvous spot. None that he can see, anyway. Intuition rather than knowledge (the man had quite the presence, after all) and an odd coldness in the midst of the heat alerts him to the fact that there is, in fact, a comrade nearby. “Weir?” His usually smooth voice is scratched by the smoke, but it is exceedingly quiet. There isn’t much to say - the time for planning and training is long behind them – but he can’t let the other charge into battle without some sort of exchange. Some sort of parting words, just in case. “Be safe, my friend.” And then he enters the fray. It’s like stepping into the world’s largest boiler. If he’d thought the heat was uncomfortable before, it is now nearly unbearable. Some of the fires have been put out already, the stallion notices, but some still eat away at the pine forest. Branches crackle and snap all around him. Ravens take to the air in mass, blotting out what little light remains from above. Ramiel realizes with a start that birds aren’t the only blockage against the sun. A writhing, snaking shape flies above. A dragon? The fear of the prey clenches in his gut for a moment before he sees the shooting flames are meant for the trees – the dragon is on their side. Trading in his relief for readiness, the invisible man walks further into the chaos. Here, the battle rages on the ground, with the bodies of horses clashing throughout the clearing. Ramiel side-steps a small shoot of a cactus before eyeing the fighting, looking for a place to enter into it himself. A burst of blindingly bright light arcs through the Chamber. He recognizes it immediately. Joscelin. And then he can see her against a backdrop of dripping flames and smoke. Her skin is alive with the lit, pulsating cracks; his broken-bodied sister stands in the middle of the carnage and she looks like she belongs there. It brings a grim sort-of smile to the ghost-king’s face. But it just as soon slides from his face as he sees what is happening. Joscelin’s blast of light hits a stallion who moves in front of her intended target. His haunch bubbles grotesquely and Ramiel remembers the trees and rocks of the Dale suffering from the same light. The fiery-stallion stares at her after the attack, and he can sense the retaliation to come. He won’t reach his sister in time; he has to try anyway. Ramiel moves towards Demian at a fast canter, even as the other’s wings burst into flame. He ignores his instincts telling him to flee, to avoid the harsh scent of charred flesh that will soon be his own smell. He moves between Demian and Joscelin, cutting off the attacker from his target. And when he is close enough (when he knows Demian will not be able to see him quickly enough to react in time) he sheds his invisibility and barrels into the stallion’s side. He will not fight a man who can’t see him. “Don’t even think about it,” he practically growls, his breath leaving with exertion just after. Pain blossoms on his shoulder as the fiery wings connect with his skin, but he pays it no mind. All that matters is that he’s distracted the other long enough to keep him away from Josc. R A M I E L this is a man pulling on his iron chains Notes: Ram meets Weir outside of the Chamber. He walks into the Chamber, sees Joscelin attack Cress/Demian and moves between Demian/Joscelin. He then rams into Demian, revealing himself from being invisible. Feel free to fight/maim him, just no death. <3 RE: eat sh*t and die } LUPEI - kahzie - 02-26-2016 Her head aches. A moment ago she had been sleeping, drifting in the dark, and suddenly her world is full of smoke and screams. The chaos is a balm on her weary bones, and the grey mare picks herself up from the ground, shaking of years of debris as she stands. The sweet scent of her pines is marred by fire, and she can hear the sap of the trees pop and sizzle as the trees ignite. Then, even as she raises her golden eyes to the treetops, the fire is gone and the trees grow closer, and the shimmer of magic lays over it all. She growls in distaste, for now she must find a new way down the mountains from the copse where she had lain. In the wide sweep of the kingdom below her, the war rages. Starlace smiles. Some of the warriors – probably those faring better in their battles – are fighting for the Chamber, and those she ignores. They will be fine without her, and she has never been the type to lend a hand. She wants something harder, something that the rest of them won’t face. She sees the flash of magic, smells wounds helaing to quickly, watches wolves and lions betray their base instinct, and she knows. They are cheats, the lot of them, using gifts rather than brawn and wit and courage. Starlace will fight with her teeth and her hooves. There is a black stallion that smells of sand, and it is toward him that Starlace barrels. Her small, pony-sized body is lithe and agile despite her long rest, and her black mane and tail stream behind her. While the dragon-winged horse guards the snake, Starlace comes up from behind, rearing up and lashing out at his leathery wings with her hooves as she tries to get a hold of the leathery skin with her teeth and tear it away. RE: eat sh*t and die } LUPEI - Lagertha - 02-26-2016 I am iron and I forge myself Lagertha tells Draconis to stick by her and sprouts her spiky (tree frog poison, very deadly!) poisonous armor, and attacks Starlace. RE: eat sh*t and die } LUPEI - Larken - 02-26-2016 It’s just not FAIR. Why does Lexa get to help out with the war? Lexa’s not that much older, and it’s not like she even knows how to fight! It’s SO not fair. Larken grumbles to herself for several minutes after her sister leaves, taking her anger out on the occasional shrub and bush. She’s almost two now after all! Her mother should let her join in the fight!! Then an idea occurs to her. She could still join in. She doesn't have to listen to her mother. She could just pretend to … and if Lyris never sees her there, she’ll never know. She’ll just have to be careful. Larken slips away when none of the remaining sisters are watching, and makes a beeline straight for the Chamber. It’s pretty easy to tell that’s where they’re heading - the scent trails lead right to the enemy kingdom. She crosses the border without pause, and soon comes across the scene of the battle. She forcefully knocks against something as she bursts out of the trees, but she’s too occupied by the sight in front of her to pay attention. “Wooahh …” Larken’s eyes widen at the sight. Blood and bodies are flying everywhere crashing into each other with wild abandon. Animals are interspersed throughout the battle, fire is everywhere, light keeps shooting out from a bay mare (that she vaguely recognizes as an Amazon sister), and freaking DRAGONS are flying over head. “So cool!” Someone should probably get her head checked. She realizes abruptly that she’s not alone in watching the battle. The thing that she’d bumped into was well, not exactly a thing. A tiger in fact. Crap. “Er …” Larken takes a few tentative steps back, while lowering her head into a defensive position. She might’ve bitten off a little more than she can chew. (TLDR: Larken is dumb kid, goes to watch battle, runs into Ribcage. Whoops!) RE: eat sh*t and die } LUPEI - Ribcage - 02-26-2016 He is hunched, his big body rocked back on his strong hind, his great, round paws worrying the mire at his feet. He scratches his agitation out in the soft, giving footing – blood, ash, mud; his mouth is filled with these things: blood, ash, mud. He is ready. But around him things are happening that he never imagined possible. He has known simply this: her red side (and the other’s red ribs – he knows them in more ways than one, now), sister (now brother), the pinewood that fluxes around them (first fire and black smoke; now closed in with extra ironwood soldiers, coming together in tight formation, only relenting a small clearing… a single bloody pit). He knew first the minimalism of darkness, where sound and scent became so a part of him, that he could sometimes imagine in his mind the world around him, in the way a bat creates a image with his cries. He made it out of strange colours he could not understand and angular shapes. He is shivering. He is surely afraid, somewhere deep down where the eyeless boy has been relegated. Somewhere in the heart of a damp and dark cave, where his brother and sister are hiding. Somewhere… somewhere, wherever mother is. He is excited. More than anything. The animal has wrested the body from the boy. Blood stings his palette. The lioness’ offering had been decidedly sour. She had not been real. She was a conjuration and when he bit into her, her fur and meat were like dirt in his mouth. It hadn’t been satisfying. (They say once they have the taste for blood.) His mouth is stained with her red, but it is a queer, unnatural thing that congeals and dries on his chin and ruff now. He aches to replace it, to fill his mouth with the hot and sticky delight that had sampled only once before. He had left her alive, as per mother’s request. He sees her before she bumps into him. She is not much different from him and sister. The same season had brought them to quicken and when he looks at her, a part of him sees sister and is repulsed. —repulsed by the part of him that springs from his hole in the mud and lands, lightly, nearer to her. He pulls back his lips and growls, swiping at her and he circles around so they are face to face. This was foolish, but she must know that. (The boy retreats further, pulling the covers over his hollowed out eyes.) The tiger spits and hisses, and then rears up at her, sinking claws into her neck, his hinds paws still grounded. He wraps his mouth around her neck, just below her throatlatch and squeezes. He applies pressure, that taste flooding his mouth and pooling around his lips. He holds, for a moment – long enough to cleave any possibility of recovery – and then turns, maneuvers his body awkwardly to try and drag her somewhere safe in the woods… The tiger lets her go, dead weight thudding softly to the ground. He looks down, her tongue falls from the corner of her mouth, slightly swollen looking… blue. He tilts his head, moves to circle around her, placing a big, bloody paw on her shoulder and pushing roughly. He leans closer, smelling her skin (and the blood), watching her ribs for motion. But they are still and airless. Dead. He lets out a low, melancholy rumble. Hello? He jerks back, the desire to scour flesh from her bones colliding with the way he sees sister in the deadness on her eyes. He backs up, chirping soft, sorry sounds and shaking his great, patterned head. - tiger-son of Atrox & Crone - Ribcage has killed Larken, does not feel great about it. RE: eat sh*t and die } LUPEI - Lupei - 02-26-2016 I'm so glad that he let me try it again 'Cause my last time on earth I lived a whole world of sin If (hypothetically speaking) Lupei wasn’t sprawled out upon the earth like some unrecognizable pile of torn flesh, if he wasn’t blinded by his own bodily fluids, if he wasn’t having trouble breathing, and if he wasn’t close to wheezing out his final breath, Lupei would be the first to say he was proud of what he’d gotten started here in the Chamber. But, as it would seem, while the roar of battle is happening behind him, he can only taste the acrid burn of bile and his own warm blood. He wants to shout his encouragement, but finds that it’s rather hard to shout without a throat. He’s done - out for the count right now while the war behind him grows steadily in numbers. If the wolf could have his way, he’d wish to be back in the middle of it. Luckily for him, sometimes even trouble makers get their wishes granted. In an instant Lupei feels whole. Someone has healed him, graciously, and he springs back up from the earth, shaking loose the debris but feeling somehow lighter. He doesn’t realize it immediately, but the touchy Jungle magician has used his own gift against him and completely burnt off what was once a very attractive matching mane and tail. Lupei is bald, and the skin where the hair once was is still raw despite the healers efforts. “That bitch” He mumbles, eyes narrowing as he whips his head around to target Prague. The witch is busy. A snarl rips from his throat and Lupei shifts uncontrollably, claws digging into the ruined earth as he bounds forward and leaps upon a bystander - a mare, grey flecked with white and mind concentration on the fray. His teeth snap together on her withers, his attack coming from her side, and he shakes his head so that his teeth will hopefully shred her own skin. His hind claws dig for purchase against her ribs, blue eyes wide with the adrenaline from the hunt. He’s got no idea what he’s up against, but then again Lupei never claimed to be the most thoughtful of the group - especially when there’s nothing but utter madness going on around them. lupei ooc: Lupei is messed up, he gets healed, attacks the closest horse to him (Lyris) He's also permanently mane free/tail free now. RE: eat sh*t and die } LUPEI - Phaedrus - 02-26-2016 PHAEDRUS His enormous black wings hail a banner of blue when he hears the cry for war. Watching as his brothers enter the fray he keeps to the air looking at the dragons as they circle in the sky setting ablaze a great many trees. Well at least they were on his side… or he thinks so. Most likely after all they didn’t seem to be attacking any of the Dalian’s. Then it hits him. Searching through the specks of blood and gore as they battle below him he looks for the healers. Healers that were not on his side. A few shadow wolves alert him to one that is standing alone. Scrutinizing this fact he looks around to see if any are attacking him. When he sees that there are none. The stag turns his wings to plummet him directly to the other. His body stretching and yawning out in length every second he is in the air his body becomes longer and more pliable. Finally what he hopes will be a surprise he snakes out his neck wrapping it around the others neck as he begins to tangle his body with the other stallions. A deep growl escapes his almost collapsed throat. That was not a smart move. He knew who Joscelin is. And he knows that even if this is the only thing he can do, maybe it is enough that the stallions magic would flicker and Weir would have an opening to attack the Valley king. Just as he is feeling proud of himself his eyes snap to alert, the adrenaline running through his body. i'll carry this flag, to the grave if i must OOC: This attack is against Rhonan as rhonan is trying to protect Demian. RE: eat sh*t and die } LUPEI - Weir - 02-26-2016 oh the weather outside is frightful W E I R Invisble- Magic manipulating - Winter wielder of the Dale RE: eat sh*t and die } LUPEI - Cress - 02-26-2016 all that we have amassed sits before us, shattered into ash The tides of battle are always changing, and she feels the pull of her healing as minor injuries are sustained. Those she pays no mind to—there will always be something bigger, something bloodier to heal and she can’t afford to waste her time on the minimal damages. Damage and scars are a part of war, something that these warriors will carry the rest of their lives. If she heals all of them and leaves them unblemished, she doesn’t know how many of them will actually thank her when this is done. So the minor stuff she leaves. A burst of flame on the horizon, different from the other flames, draws her attention from the battle for just a split second and perhaps that is enough. “Demian,” she breathes, as the horse made of cosmic fire soars overhead—he’s soaring for her. Making sure she’s safe? Of course she’s safe enough, it’s not as if she’s making herself obvious… and then Demian is on the ground and barreling into her, barreling through Flamevein’s protective barrier, shifting back into a stallion long enough to shove her out of Joscelin’s way. Oh. Then he is screaming in agony, and Cress gasps as she sees the damage that Joscelin’s ability had caused. “Demian!” she shrieks, terrified for his life, forgetting herself for just a moment. Almost as quickly as he had fallen he is on his hooves right now, flaming eyes alighting on the mare who had attacked her. Realizing what he is about to do, she focuses entirely on his injured hip, pouring energy into him as she knits him back together the best that she can without exhausting herself. The wound is extensive, and there is no way that she can heal it completely without sidelining him for precious minutes, but she does a quick enough job to stop the pain and pull the flesh back together so that it is not a gaping, bubbling, bleeding distraction. “Be careful,” she murmurs as he adopts yet another form, a normal horse form with wings of flame. He is darting away without a backwards glance, back into the thrill of battle with a thirst for revenge. She has to tear her eyes away; she can’t focus on Demian the entire fight. There are others that need her help. Like Killdare. The stallion who had absorbed the first of Joscelin’s light beams. He is a broken, bloody mess and his wings are so riddled with holes that if she doesn’t act fast, he’ll likely never to fly again. She has to stop and concentrate on him. He’s going to take a few minutes, at least. When she is finally done, his wings are mostly knitted back together, and she has to pull further away from the fight, deep into the Chamber’s pine forests. She needs to recoup; after the fight she will be able to help him more, but now? For now she can’t do much else. He is on his feet, he’ll be able to continue fighting and protecting his home; hopefully he won’t die and ruin her hard work. She had not been the only one to work on him—and on Demian—but she doesn’t know who it was that aided her. Or perhaps she aided him. Either way, with their combined abilities, the two should be fine. It is only a few moments later that something else—called it a gut feeling—pulls her back to the fighting. Demian is arcing around Joscelin, setting the ground aflame, when a stallion appears out of thin air. Goddamn it, she’s not going to let Demian get hurt again. “Demian!” she screams not for the first time that day, bursting onto the battlegrounds without another thought. No doubt that the stallion could handle himself, but she’s not going to take that risk and let him hurt himself. Hopefully her barrier of flames will keep her shielded from the worst of the fighting, if any decide that she would make a decent target. She is by Demian’s side in moment, maw gaping open as the fire in her chest flares to life. The once-invisible stallion is too close to not be a target, but she is aiming for anyone that she has marked an enemy; him, Joscelin, the lioness magician, all of them. The closest just so happen to be Joscelin and the newcomer. Play with fire? Get burnt and all that jazz. Cress has no business in this fight and yet here she is. cress oxytocin x kindling tl;dr: Cress gets attacked by Joscelin, Dem saves her and gets hurt. Between Cress and Rhonan, they patch up Demian and Killdare reasonably well. Cress retreats from the battle entirely but soon comes back because she senses Demian's in danger. She rushes to help Demian and breathes fire at anyone nearby, namely Ramiel and Josc. |