... we've a lot of starving faithful. [RESZKA & VINEINE & LONGEAR - ANY OTHERS LEFT]

[Niklas]

Intended to be a branch off of Prague's gathering, assuming that Prague and company have already left for the Chamber - since the fighting has already started there and, yeah. They're not here to do too much damage, just taking advantage of an opportunity.

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

The black demon had gone to the Valley, at first.

Set speaks words of release and he and Grim evaporate, leaving an acrid stench lingering on the wind. Reappearing on the western side of the Valley, the gravel sloped beneath their feet, stray pebbles sent skittering down to level ground when he shifts. The spring melt has finally reached the higher altitudes of the kingdom, water trickling from the snowcaps to fill the lake at the center of the kingdom. Grim bounds suddenly away, creating a miniature avalanche with her bulk as she climbs higher. It's only a few seconds before she reaches a ridge and disappears; Niklas watches her go before turning back to face the Valley. Haunches higher than his forehand, he shifts his weight again, ignoring the low whine in his head. His dark features are expressionless as he attempts to suss out the location of the impending battle. Though he cannot feel Eight's influence, he can feel the shadow of death that yet lingers in the cage of newly created flesh. The risen king approaches, the warring good at his back. He contemplates these odd circumstances a moment, turning it over in his head, a small, fascinating puzzle. Grim woofs quietly under her breath, jerking him out of his thoughts. She stands above him, clearly annoyed that he had ignored her. She blinks once and then disappears again, filling his head with visions of the ocean.

Intrigued, he follows.

Though it has been some time since he's been in the Valley, he does not remember an ocean separating it from the Jungle. His gaze follows the watery tracks of great sea creatures, their shadows visible just beneath the surface. He cannot sense their souls; a brief exchange with Grim confirms that she cannot detect them either. Creations of a magician, then. Protecting something precious, no doubt ... Turning his eyes to the jungle beyond the ocean, he blinks and they go cloudy white. A cluster of souls draws him like a beacon. A living, breathing, blood-bag beacon ... Grim howls, the cries of a thousand deaths held in that single time.

There is no need for pomp and circumstance. He and Grim teleport in among them. He does not know this, but their Khaleesi has gathered them so very nicely for him. The hellhound does not wait. The moment her over-sized paws touch the earth, those wickedly curved claws flex and she pushes off, rows of jagged teeth bared in a wide death grin. With a hellish snarl, she pounces on the nearest mare, a soul stamped Reszka. "Hello, ladies," Niklas greets, eyes gone black as his coat in a single blink. It is only then he displays an expression: mad glee as he disappears in a swirl of black smoke, reappearing at the filly's side, the one standing next to a small rose grey mare, no doubt her mother. "Care if we join you?" His head snakes down with unearthly speed, teeth bared, aiming for the child.

Niklas

@[andrea]

[Vineine]

And through the branches twinkling fireflies trace their mimic 
constellations --

She hears the great, low hum beyond. 
Sea creatures, wailing their songs. 
Somehow – through their queer, suspended body of water and despite the separation of frequencies that exists between them – she can hear, their eerie sounds setting her teeth on edge. She turns and pulls her daughter close to her. She inspects the grey spectacles around her bright, wide eyes and the mess of fade slowly taking away the traces of bucksin from her skin.

“Okay?” she whispers, close to her ear so she can hear over the din of trumpeting and chest pounding.

“I don’t know, mum… what’s going on?”

“War, baby. We’re safer here than elsewhere, I promise.” 
And it should be true. Elsewhere, forest are razed to the ground by dragonfire and then reborn like razors from the earth. Elsewhere, great monsters fight in the sky and even farther away, souls are shaken awake from the deepest of sleeps.
Here, elephants surround and circle them. Gorillas pace fitfully and leopards prowl the upper boughs and bare their teeth at anything meaty. They are pushed close together, a roil of raised hackles and upheaval.
She breaths in the scent of singed fur, bitter smoke, meat and the soup of species – chaos. Nature bends to disorder but none of this is nature. This is nature’s rogues watching the world burn.

She looks away from Longear, sweeping over the children left behind in the innermost sanctum of that fleshy storm. They are safe. She counts them, again and again. She tells them to stay close. She scolds them when they stray. They must be safe. Prague had set up such magnificent barriers for them…

Then the demon and his hellhound appear, bursting through their rank void, past all of Prague’s carefully placed defenses. She rattles out a breath, stepping into her daughter. She wants to scream when the creature leaps on Rezska, but it sticks in her dry throat. Desperately, she tries to find that connection to Prague in her mind. “Someone’s gotten through! Someone’s attacking us!”
She fumbles with magic, unsure of its weight and its qualities. 
She knows the earth and seeds. The sow and reap of a harvest.

But not magic, despite being sewn from it.

“W-who are you?” The rose grey mare shrinks away as he flashes beside her and Longear. Her ears tuck back against her neck, her eyes showing their whites as she cranes her head desperately away from him – him. Infernal. Made of other stuff. Not the flesh and horsehair she is used to. Not the substance of soul and life. Something else. Something hungry.
When he goes for her, Vineine’s sweet gift from the Mother, Longear shifts. Thank you. For second, relief fills her breast. Then in a flash of her bright white scut, her daughter bounds away, through the thick tangle of jungle understory.
“LONGEAR!”
“Something has to follow her!” she begs, shrill in her mind. From the canopy behind her, a large raptor swoops low, it’s outstretched talons thrashing the air and threatening to nick the eyes from the hellish intruder’s skull. But it has more pressing business and is careful not to get caught by him, or his hound’s gnashing jaws. It speeds away, screeching in rage, after the rabbit.

“W-what do you want?” She turns back around, sidling away from the hellhound, her eyes trying to stick with resolve to the demon. Her heart flutters, falters. She is not made for this. She is made for softer things. For conception and birth; for exploring forest floors and flower petals. She is made of the tender, rosy flesh from her birth mother and none of the iron from her magic one.

-- Amazonian Charoli, mother, daughter of Prague and Elladora

@[hanna] if Eight still wants to kill one of Vineine's unborn, this thread might be the place? if you'd like? :]

[Fiero]

He runs. Smoke and ash fills his lungs until they threaten to collapse. He sees the Jungle smoldering in the distance. He doesn’t know that Prague has saved Vineine and Longear already. He runs for them.

He is drenched with sweat when he comes upon the Jungle. Animals guard her borders with eyes full of rage. He knows there is no getting past them. There is no reasoning with angry elephants, leopards, and lions. He races towards the west entrance, hoping to find a way in.

A painted mare stands guard along the west entrance, and Fiero slows, but she is already barreling towards him.

“No, stop!” he yells, frantically skidding to a halt as the painted mare rushes him. He dodges her, albeit quite messily. “I mean no harm.” he pants at her. “I need Vineine.” he says, and the painted mare stops.

“Why didn’t you say so?” she says in a rather chipper voice.

“Is she okay? Where is Longear? My name is Fiero.” He says all at once.

“Slow down,” she says “Vineine has stayed behind to guard the young, but I cannot let you in unescorted.”

Fiero frowns. “I understand, but...”

The painted mare is just about to interrupt him when a scream splits the humid Jungle air.

“Sitra.” she gasps, her mismatched eyes suddenly filled with the same horror that Fiero had dragged all the way here.

“Come on, dammit.” she orders him, and they race headlong into the viney jungle. He doesn’t see the rabbit that scurries towards the Meadow as he plumets through the Jungle behind the painted mare.

Fiero & Aoi

ooc: Fiero meets Aoi at the West entrance, they hear Sitra scream as Niklas snaps at Longear. They race into the Jungle.