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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


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    i will stand my ground. || beqanna & fairies; a petition
    #1

    YOU CAN STAND ME UP AT THE GATES OF HELL, BUT I WON'T BACK DOWN.

       The air is thin once more, causing his lungs to have to work twice as hard to process the density of the oxygen within his behemoth both, but still, he presses on. The thoughts that linger in his mind are heavy, and entrenched in the weight of uncertainty. The heavy sun beats down along his marred skin, puckered pink scars glimmering faintly beneath the light - the only hint of color across an otherwise dreary spread of flesh and hair. 

       Sweat beads gently along his terse, grinding muscles as he pushes himself up along the trodden path that slopes along the crest of the mountain, when suddenly he can feel something wash over him in a thick blanket - warm, enveloping him from every angle, and suddenly the fire that once burst so steadily within him returns with a ferocious fury. The magic seeps into his veins and dwells there, leaving him with a glowering ember within the very marrow of his bones - his pyrokinesis, his source of heat in an otherwise bleary winter's day, was returned to him - but he knew it only would for a short while.

       His eyes, a deep crimson and burning with meaning, take in the immense and breathing sight that lay before him as his body finally reaches the end of its off-beaten path. The sunlight lay behind him, eclipsed by his own monstrosity, but it illuminates all that is before him, and though his heart still aches with the now distant memories of ice and permafrost, his mind solidifies before what lay before him now. A new day has dawned and the lost twilight of the previous one is littered is littered with the mistakes and greed of many; let it remain there. Though his heart longs for the ice and snow once more, his heart is open - eager for mercy, hoping for grace. He, too, had made mistakes in his past, but his heart has become raw and flayed open. 

       Power had meant nothing to him; nothing but a proverbial weapon to wield. He had held power, with honesty and the desire to offer refuge and sanctuary to any and all who came across his path. He had taken the throne with a curious mind and an open heart, and it had brought many beneath his wing, many who trusted his wisdom (though no wiseman thinks himself to be wise at all) and his painstaking efforts, and he had become deeply entrenched in family. Oh, he had made his many mistakes too - his heart pangs at the thought of Vanquish, unraveling at the very seams from the sheer force of unbound magic, of Yael's shrill cry. 

       Had he known it would all come to ashes and dust, he would have thought twice. He sought Vanquish's removal from power; a power he did not deserve to wield - a power that had lusted for an end to Mast, and to Demian, but it is vengeance for Mast that was sought so passionately. Topsail had grown restless and ached to pull the very one that had forced her father into hiding away from the crown, but they had all had spared too much faith into a single soul by the name of Tannor who had been nothing but power-hungry and lustful in the process.

       It had stirred the anger and retribution of a most giving Beqanna.

       It had been their most fatal mistake, and it had cost too many lives.
      His heart clenches within his chest - a mistake he sorely wished he could take back.

       With a low, sullen sigh, he presses on, tilting his chin to the morning sky as he carefully bridges the unmarked path into the very center of the mountain - high-ended slopes rising to each side, with pristine water laying before him. His dry, parched throat begs for a drink, but it is not what he has come for. Though he has made mistakes before, though he has angered Beqanna in the aftermath of war better left alone, he seeks nothing but refuge and stability once more.

       He can only hope that She will be able to see it, and give him, his allies, his closest friends and family, a second chance.

       "Beqanna - Fairies," He bellows out, eyes searching the horizon. "I come to you as a single man - with family, and friends depending on my choices. I seek land, to establish for not only myself, but those who so desperately seek sanctuary and stability in these hard times. Will you grant myself and my closest companions a land in which we can make it so?"

       The embers within his soul burn so brightly, and his nerves feel as if they are in flames - but his heart and mind hold steady, awaiting Her reply.



    OFFSPRING



    Our team consists of @[magnus], @[Eight], @[Malis], @[Thanata], @[Newton], @[Sahm] - with Offspring as the "leader". @[Nymphetamine] will be joining, but the prior five mentioned will be contributing points. 

    Point tracker is here and will be updated with all current links.

    Thank you! Smile
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    #2
    — find what you love and let it kill you —

    When the land had shook beneath them, Magnus had feared. Not for his safety, but for those beneath his protection; those he had left behind when he had turned from the Gates in a blind fury—vehemently opposed to the direction of her new ruler. In that moment though, when the heavens had splintered open above them and the earth shattered beneath their feet, he had recognized what a folly it was to let politics affect his ability and duty as a guardian. And so he had feared for them and their safety. He had feared when his body had been shook, and he had feared when he had awoke on the mountain—alone.

    But today, when he walked back up its steep slopes, he did not feel fear. He did not tremble as his feet found their way surefooted on the path that had so recently been trampled by the crowds finding their way down. The regret that he had felt and the guilt and the shame had been lost in the last few days, dissolving from his body to leave room for something else: purpose. A purpose that had started as the flickering of a candle that had erupted into a wildfire in his chest. A purpose that was fanned into life with every horse he had met and helped; those who had leaned against him when their injuries became too much, those who sobbed into his neck, those who looked at him with wide eyes, unsure where their families were.

    All of it had flickered and fanned and then forged into something like resolve in his belly.

    And that resolve had led to him clasping metaphorical hands with Offspring, certain when he stared the red-eyed giant in the eye that the once-King was honest when he said he wanted a sanctuary. He trusted in Offspring’s integrity; he trusted in his desire to do well for those who simply needed a haven. Trusted it enough that he was willing to overlook his distrust of the Valley and forge a chain that included both Eight and Topsail. If Offspring believed their intentions, then that would be good enough for Magnus.

    After Offspring had set off for the Mountain to plead their case, Magnus had followed, his head down against the strong head wind. Magnus did not feel rejuvenated with past powers on his journey, had never been gifted in such a way, but he was in tune enough with Beqanna’s magical pulse that he could feel the difference here. Where the rest of the new land was relatively barren, this area was rich and fertile with her magic. It was concentrated here—a strong, thick current racing beneath the surface of the land.

    He came up on Offspring’s right side, tilting his head back as Offspring bellowed to the Heavens. His gold-flecked eyes smoldered beneath the tangled thicket of his forelock and he felt his heart pound in his chest. He tilted his head toward the black stallion for a second, nodding. When Offspring grew silent, he looked back toward the horizon. “I am not a wordsmith of much talent,” he started simply, his voice whiskey and smoke, quiet in comparison to the powerful speech of the man by his side, “But should you choose to grant us a land, we pledge to serve those who come to it in need of a haven. We will use it to uphold your ideals with a kind but just hand; we will use it to protect those you call your children.”

    His pulse pounded in his throat but he did not avert his gaze.

    “We have nothing to offer you but the strength of our backs, the strengths of our heart, so we humble ourselves in this petition and ask that you show us, and those who rely upon us, mercy.” And then he fell silent, his thoughts racing to Ellyse and the life within her, to Camelia with blood crusting on her leg, to Longear’s silent sobs in the aftermath of the reckoning. He felt the weight of their request press down upon him and hoped Beqanna could see the truth of their request written upon their hearts.

    magnus

    [Image: gqYjsHr.png]
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    #3
    She wants them to suffer.

    She has put herself high on the mountaintop, knowing that in order for them to reach her they will have to push themselves to the extremes. She has pushed herself to the extremes for them - it is long past time they do the same.

    When the first horse comes, he does so beseechingly. Beqanna does not listen to his words so much as his heart, and she is pleased with what she finds.

    He understands, and in doing so soothes Beqanna's pride. The second stallion is much the same, and she is moved.

    She will grant their petition.

    "Go" says a voice in the wind. "See what I have made for you." She guides their hooves west, toward the silver mist, and the land that she has crafted for them.

    Welcome to your new home: The Volcano
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    #4

    YOU CAN STAND ME UP AT THE GATES OF HELL, BUT I WON'T BACK DOWN.

      His breath hitches slightly within the tight confines of his already too dry throat as the prying warmth of another settles beside him, and a swiveling red eye glances to catch a glimpse of the source - but soon his pounding heart is soothed by what he sees. Magnus, a warrior in mind but a steward in heart. His presence is a solemn reminder of how the Earth has stirred beneath them; a humbling piece of history that will forever be etched into stone for future generations to take heed and learn a steady, stern lesson from. His heart pounds steadily against the iron rib cage of his chest, but gives the faintest of nods to the buckskin standing shoulder to shoulder with him. Brawn and girth, standing in unison with their hearts flayed and their minds open - a sight to behold.

      A steady breath fills the expanse of his tired lungs as he focuses heavily on each and every word, every syllable that moves so smoothly, like a trickling of thick honey from his dry tongue, though it is drenched with humility and a heartfelt desire to do more than what he has. He had found a kindred spirit, and it engulfs the fullness of his own heart with a warmth that he cannot simply attribute to the simmering embers that linger in the pit of his belly.

      There is promise upon the horizon, and war has brought nothing but destruction. Time had not healed all wounds, and the Earth had been marred by the wreckage and havok caused by those with too much greed and bloodthirsty lust within their hearts and minds. He is weary, worn down from the heavy burden of knowledge that he, too, had taken part at one time, as he is certain that the scarred warrior beside him had once too. His words are spoken truthfully, though, and there is nothing quite like the healing ointment of humility.

      A gentle wind carries through, and if he were not able to forget the steady thrust of his pounding heart, he might have missed the soft voice that is carried by it. Go, the voice whispers within his mind. See what I have made for you.

      A breath that he had not realized he’d been holding expels now, and his heavy lashes raise as the urge to shift his behemoth form towards the western slope of the mountain. Mirth and relief and sheer gratitude flood every square inch of his body, and a single word echoes. Volcano.

      ”Thank you,” he murmurs softly with respite laced in his tone, knowing She will hear it. ”we will not fail you. Magnus, my friend - let us begin.”



    OFFSPRING


    Thank you! Big Grin

    The following points will be deducted for the land claim:

    - 10 points from Newton [volunteered]
    - 15 points from Magnus [volunteered]
    - 25 points from Offspring (25 from recruitment; he has a total of 40 with recruitment = 40 - 25 = 15 remaining)

    = 50 points total
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