i struggled to find any truth in your lies - EVERYONE

[Errant]

when my time comes around lay me gently in the cold dark earth Dawn has not yet broken over the eastern sea, but Errant’s call is loud as it echoes through the cold fall air. He means to gather them together, for the Brothers to decide what will become of their kingdom. Mountain is gone, at least for the time it will take him to discover that Errant has teleported from the Jungle to the Tundra, and the time it will then take him to run from southern Beqanna to its northern tip. “The Amazons have taken our king,” He tells them when they have assembled. “But I’d prefer to think of it as a favor to the Kingdom.” He seeks out Nihlus, Hurricane, and Simeon among those gathered – these three have the full story, and Errant has no qualms with sharing it himself if the rest of the Brotherhood is curious. “Now is the time to decide,” the black stallion reminds them, his grey eyes sharp as he looks from one face to the other. He has not chosen to stand on the knoll from which the king traditionally addresses the kingdom, and his reason is twofold. He is not yet the king, though the tone of their previous meeting has made it clear he might be the only willing option, and he has seen what good became of Mountain treating them as less than. Errant had not ruled that way his first go round (he hopes), and he has decided he will continue that. “Do we want Mountain to lead us to ruin, or shall we choose ourselves a new king?” Errant waits, waits to see the reactions, and then adds his final words. “I’ve said before I am willing to rule if you all will have me. Are there others here willing to step up as well?” There had not been before, and while any one of them might make as decent a king as Errant, the black stallion does has one advantage. He’s not been here the longest – Brennen will always have them all beat – and he is not the best diplomat. But he is strong, and a fighter, and his magic can protect Beqanna in the coming turmoil. e r r a n t no grave can hold my body down i'll crawl home to her

[Crito]

The Tundra is a kaleidoscope of colors, but Crito struggles to find any green amongst the palette. He is sampling a lichen-covered boulder when he hears his brother’s call. Quickly (for him at least) he abandons his rather poor meal and moves towards the sound. Ever since the black magician returned to the icy kingdom, he has felt younger and revitalized. It’s as if his blood is responding to the presence of shared blood; as if he finally has a purpose in the alliance his family started so long ago. Even his joints aren’t as menacingly creaky as they were before. Lately, that has turned out to be a good thing. With Mountain at the helm and his subjects growing more restless and bloodthirsty by the day, one never knew when they would be called upon to act. Not that the aging stallion would be much use physically. His only real strength stems from parts he has no control over: his blood and his inability to linger long with the other horses. This last trait had made him a hermit but had also given him an encyclopedic knowledge of the wild places in the Tundra. If complete war spilled over the entirety of Beqanna, Crito could easily stow the Brotherhood in the deepest crevasse of the mountains where it would be all too simple to pick off anyone who dared venture north. Fortunately, it hasn’t come to that. The bay roan is utterly surprised to see that he is the first to make it to Errant’s meeting. It seems his old legs are more eager for change than he thought. The first bit that the mage speaks of is news to Crito. The Amazons have taken Mountain? That part he is more than fine with – supremely fine with, in fact – but he does wonder about the rest. “Was this Scorch’s doing?” He grins mildly, amused that, if it is his twin, she is willing to meddle in their affairs. Out of the goodness of her heart, or an attempt at securing an unbreakable alliance with Errant? The second half of the stallion’s speech is not new to the hermit. It seemed perfect timing on Errant’s part that he returned just as malcontent was stirring in the ranks (not in a bad way, but with a tinge of their familial opportunistic timing). Crito has already proclaimed his support for his brother. He has lived under Errant’s rule before, was most active under it, too, and he believes him a fair and just choice. Besides, blood calls to blood. “You have my vote,” don’t fuck it up he wants to add in jest, but thinks there might yet be some convincing to do. His grey eyes crinkle at his brother but he looks otherwise somber when he turns to the rest of the stallions. ( c r i t o )

reference picture //character info

[Brennen]

the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love
great clouds rolling over the hills
and if you close your eyes, does it almost feel

like nothing's changed at all?

It is as if the world – or at least, the Tundra – has been holding its breath as it waits for something to happen. Brennen can feel the change in the air in the uncertainty, the way his skin crawls uncomfortably when he thinks of the unsettled business the Tundra Brothers have with their poor and mad King. Perhaps some would dismiss his thoughts as superstition and nonsense, but he has lived too long and seen too much to dismiss much of anything anymore.

So when Errant calls, he is ready. From his perch in the mountains – like many of the other Brothers he has a favorite cave in which to take temporary shelter from the elements – he flings himself into the empty air of the sky and wings his way across the Tundra to land at the gathering, flicking a serene glance over each face to take stock of who has come before settling in to listen.

He can’t help but laugh at the black stallion’s opening statement, a sound of genuine mirth that might have sounded ridiculous in this somber gathering had it come from anyone else. Somehow it simply sounds normal, coming from Brennen. Of course it was the Amazons responsible for Mountain’s absence… and of course it was Scorch, in some way or form. “Ah, the Amazons,” he responds with a last chuckle and a quick shake of his head. “Always needful of being contrary, but yet somehow still quite the useful friends to have. Still, I wish them the joy of him while he enjoys their hospitality.” The once-General has a complicated relationship with the Amazons; with the mother of his youngest son and with their current Queen, but overall he believes there is a value in the wild women of the Jungle and he would never count them out of any discussion.

Then for a moment he is quiet, the silence broken instead by the roan’s declaration of support. At the thought of waiting for Mountain to return to claim his Kingship, once more the warrior’s skin crawls and he twitches as if to shoo flies and shifts, digging one hoof into the ground. “Of course we will choose ourselves a new King. Perhaps the Amazons would like to keep our former King. And good riddance.” Brennen flicks an irritated glance around the group, more than ready to start a physical altercation with any who disagree that Mountain must go – the uneasy feeling has left him restless, and he would be more than happy to feel the impact of flesh beneath his hooves to sooth. It is in these rare moments that one can see through his usually bored, affable mannerisms to the warrior that lies underneath.

But with a deep breath he settles again, some of the heat leaving his honey-brown eyes as he exhales, resuming a bodily stillness even as his face quirks into a sardonic half-smile. “And I believe I have already made my vote and my reasons clear. At this time, I stand with Errant.”

brennen

immortal, winged, bone-bending, ice-manipulating, wind-manipulating Tundra warrior

[Kratos]

Let the battle cry be heard in the land, a shout of great destruction

Kratos had waited and watched with hooded, calculating eyes as the iron-grey mare led their false king away. Through their own lapse in vigilance the boy had been stolen but nonetheless it was a curious turn of events. The Brotherhood was rid of their crowned nuisance and neither a hair nor a temper tantrum had to be thrown about the Tundra in order to do it. For now, at least – until the veil fell. But Kratos would wait for that, too.

The kingdom doesn’t hide the titan well, although nearly nothing did, and if one had been watching him when Errant’s call came they would have seen a splinter of lightning spark across his painted skin. Kratos had not willingly came to the call of any other stallion but the Nightwalker and as he moved to answer Errant’s, a pang of dormant sorrow rang through him. But Kratos bares his teeth and flings his heavy white head (as if he could shake the memories away) as he makes his way to the gathering.

The black and white draft flicks a feathered ear at Errant as he asks the question they have all already answered, “fuck no, we choose a new king to sit today,” he says– Mountain will be king here no longer. His eyes shift to the roan as he adds another tally to his grandfather’s scroll of supporters, he offers his name to the stallion first, “Kratos,” he tells him. He knows Errant intends to take the throne but still he says, “I would lead the Brothers,” he is young and brash and his blood is thick with generations of kings yet he adds, “but I would serve you too,” and his words are not lies. He knows he is a dark stranger to most of them here, he is not foolish enough to think they would chose the wild youngblood over their old magician king? Kratos would not be content to just be part of the cadre long and he wondered what role Errant would have them play in the war that was soon coming. But for now he would give his bloodline his vote and bide his time.

For the whole land will be devoured by the fire of his hunger

KRATOS

vanquish x lyric

[Simeon]

He comes in after Brennen lands among the rest, in time to hear a few quips about the Amazons. It brings a light-hearted smile to his face at the truth of the scarred winged stallion's words. Of course, indeed, though he knows it was actually Lagertha's doing and Errant's influence that landed the mad King within the Jungle's borders. It pleases him that despite his question of Lagertha's motives, in the end she had proved that she was a clever warrior woman of the 'Zons- whether she got along with the his mother and Khaleesi or not. And it pleases him even greater that her meddling, surprise aside, resulted in the opportunity that each of the Brothers have at this moment to discuss what was necessary without Mountain's interference.

Simeon almost chuckles at Brennen's comment about Mountain staying in the Jungle. Surely, if the Brotherhood didn't decide to kill the madman, it would take very little time for his end to meet him in the Amazons if he stayed. No doubt by Scorch, or even Lagertha, perhaps even along with a few other sisters. There is a very subtle head shake from the bay roan stallion, mismatched eyes glinting with amusement. Truly, Sim doesn't care if the man dies, his only concern is that his loved ones remain unharmed. The thought of something happening to any of them at the doings of Mountain causes his blood to boil beneath his skin, the burn in his chest uncharacteristic for the typically happy-go-lucky young man. His family was something no one should mess with. Which brings another thought to his mind: he was terribly inexperienced. To fighting. To politics. And then he thinks of what he's been sent here to do.

The first two men declare their support of his uncle at the kingdom's head. Simeon's gaze travels over the rest of the men gathered and he waits only a moment before he clears his throat and takes a single step forward. There is something he needs to say. "On the topic of the Amazons. My mother, Scorch, has sent me here to rise alongside Errant, if he is to take the throne, to secure an alliance between Tundra and 'Zons. I agreed to come here and stay- if you all will have me. However," he pauses here, his eyes had been among them all, but now come to rest on the scarred black magician. "I must be honest. I do not wish to be handed anything, nor do I believe you would simply give me a title. It should be earned. Admittedly, I have much to learn. About the Tundra- about everything, before I can truly be considered for any rank. Where I stand, I leave to you. But, if it is decided I stay at all, of course I will stand by you as King."

When he finishes, he steps back, taking in a deep breath and releasing it in a slow, quiet sigh. May Scorch forgive him, he feels as though a huge weight has been lifted from his chest having said what he felt was necessary to say. He simply didn't feel that he should start things off here with them seeing him for anything other than who and what he is, rather than what his mother- or anyone- wanted him to be. He has never considered a leadership role before, and if he was to rise to such- as he had said- it should certainly be earned, not given. Besides that, he does indeed have much to learn before he should take on such a responsibility. But for now, he stands back and watches, listening intently.

[Kratos]

OOC – Okay so I think Kratos, Brennan and Simeon all kinda posted around the same time yesterday so my post doesn’t include Brennan in it. I was going to edit the other post but with Simeon’s post, I just decided to write another J  And since I already wrote it as if Brennan wasn’t there yet when he first arrived, I’ll just keep it that way if that’s okay – if not, let me know Devin!

Let the battle cry be heard in the land, a shout of great destruction

Kratos doesn’t shift at the sound of wings as Brennan comes, he was far too accustomed to it through his childhood to be anything less than used to it now. When the bay warrior lands he offers him a nod of acknowledgment, it seemed the more scars a man carried the more likely Kratos was to like him. He had taken care to notice both Errant and Brennan had skin illustrated in them. Brennan speaks his piece about the Jungle women before he, too, offers Errant his support and this time it is without the scatter of sarcasm their first exchange had held. Kratos was sure, as old as they were, that the two stallions had had their share of bludgeons and bouts of the mouth throughout the years with each other but it seemed they were more akin to stand alongside one another than against.

The bay roan with the soft-tongue and skin that smelled like mares and the Jungle came next and the words he speaks make Kratos’ black ears flick back against his skull. His eyes had only fell across him once before, when he saw him join the gathering when the iron mare had come to take Nihlus (and left with a king, too). Kratos is not unfamiliar with the Amazons, his own brother Tarnished was a prince of the Jungle once and he himself had ran his father’s dunes with Quark – a queen before Scorch’s predecessor. The Deserts and the Jungle had one of the oldest standing (if it still stood now, that is) alliances within these kingdoms – they were no stranger to the draft. And each time the Jungle’s earthy scent came his mouth crackled with lightning at the thought of Rhy – his Rhy, for he would make sure she would know no other. But he had heard the gossipmongers in the Meadow, the Jungle queen has been busy in the Deserts and elsewhere. Kratos had no desire to be ruled by proxy by some powerdrunk women in a kingdom far from where he lay he his head.

“I do not even know your name, so no, I will not have you as my king,” he says, there is no malice in his voice but there is no softness in it either. He would serve Errant, but not a nameless stallion sent by his mother – he didn’t even carry the scent of ice on his skin yet. His gaze doesn’t shift to the Brothers as he locks gazes with Simeon, in truth Kratos has bridled his tongue today. He lifts a heavy foreleg and paws at the raw ground beneath his feet, the snow melted away from his radiating heat and he turns to Errant, “Would you have him sit beside you?” He asks the magician, because while it will not sway his mind he is genuinely curious, “do you know my name?” He swings his head back to Simeon, “or his?” He indicates to Brennan. He rolls a massive shoulder as if to emphasize the incredulity of the suggestion, “I would perhaps have you as a future brother, but not as my king,” he repeats before his attention flickers back to Errant – because he still wanted an answer to his question.

For the whole land will be devoured by the fire of his hunger

KRATOS

vanquish x lyric

[Simeon]

[Gonna be short, because my post didn't include Kratos (just saw it xD my bad). But also bc he would like to reply lol]

Bicolored eyes slide over to the massive white and black stallion as he speaks. He studies him momentarily, because he can feel the electricity coming off the man. He feels it like static, and his own wild energy responds with his heart giving a light palpitation. It is not in fear, but in admiration. He has heard of this man, mere whispers on the wind of his abilities, as well as briefly scenting him in the jungle. Though he hadn't recognized it then, he is able to place it now. However, he does not in fact know his name. Simeon stands in place as the draft speaks, taking it all in stride, nodding to him when he is through. "I'm Simeon. As I said, it was my mother's scheme to have me stand beside Errant. But I don't want a hand-out. I'd like to stay here and learn all of what is to be learned, including your names, but I do not believe I should stand as a king, or even as a right-hand, until it has been earned. As of yet, I am inexperienced. Would like to change that, in time." He is nothing if not honest and outgoing. He was laying it all out for them, a confession of sorts, he is not so prideful as to make claims to dress himself up before them, because in time it would be proven how much of a novice he was indeed. The young stallion does want to learn what they would teach him. His loyalty would lie with his family, but his family is extended here as well. In the end, though, they could all take his confession for weakness, he is aware. While he certainly does not deem himself so, his inexperience could be seen as such. But he leaves it up to them: would he be deemed fit to stay and learn, or be sent back to the Jungle? And so he waits.

[Errant]

when my time comes around lay me gently in the cold dark earth They gather quickly, as they always have when they have need. The Tundra is, for the most part, a quiet kingdom but with members more loyal than most. Crito is the first to come, and his words remind Errant that Crito has known Scorch longer than Errant has. They were twins in the womb and raised together – if you can call what Echion did to them raising. Errant is glad that his brother had chosen the Tundra over the Jungle for more reasons than one, and he is glad that Crito considers him worthy of his vote. “Thank you, brother.” He says, and the final word has more affection than the standard Tundra meaning; Errant is not entirely able to not prize his own blood. Then is Brennen, who appears as amused at the Amazon’s theft of their king as Crito had been. It was mostly Lagertha’s doing – probably an attempt to recover from his child-theft - but he is grateful to her nonetheless. “I do hope they keep him,” Errant replies, “But I’m sure he’ll be back eventually.” Best to wrap this up quickly, they all know, so that they can present a united front to their black king when he returns. “Thank you,” he adds when the bay stallion voices his vote. He turns to Kratos, the young firebrand. He is not surprised that the boy still wishes to lead the Tundra, but he is pleased that he is willing to bide his time. “That is all I ask.” he replies, meeting the appaloosa’s eyes and feeling the electric tug of them along the back of his neck. Errant has never tried lightning – perhaps Kratos might teach him someday. Simeon, the stallion that wears the Jungle’s tattoos, is the next to speak up, and Errant watches him curiously as he steps up and addresses the Brotherhood. Scorch had told him only a few hours earlier that the Jungle had voted to send Simeon to rule with him. Errant, having been in a hurry and weary of bending time, had not bothered to clarify why exactly she thought that the Jungle had any say in who ruled the Tudnra, let alone who ruled alongside him. Lagertha had it right when she had come to the realization that Errant was not on Scorch’s side. Errant is on his own side, and the Tundra’s side. If the goals of the Amazons align with those of the Tundra (as they have in this fortuitous kidnapping) Errant has no issue working alongside them, but that is where their influence on each other ends – at least as far as Errant is concerned. The black stallion is not sure exactly what Scorch has told Simeon (though the general gist is clear enough) but the bay roan is clever enough to realize that he won’t be gaining anything without effort. Simeon does give Errant his support, but Errant does not have much time to acknowledge it before Kratos speaks up gain. Of course it would be Kratos to object, Errant thinks with something that might be a wry smile. He turns to the younger stallion When he speaks, his words are directed at Simeon, but they are loud enough for the rest of the gathering to hear. They’ll answer Kratos’ question, at least, and clarify what he has – or in this case has not, - promised to his younger sister. “I told Scorch that I would consider training you, and teach you how to wear a crown. I did not tell her that you would be king; I do not think you are ready.” None of them are ever really ready, but this young horse has spent no time in the Tundra. He does not know the Brothers or their traditions, and while it is unfortunate that Scorch has not given her son the entire truth, Errant is not to blame. They still have Niklaus, Nihlus, and Rigdon to vote from the ranked members of the Brotherhood, and while they might all vote against Errant as king, they already have the majority required to oust Mountain. There are enough votes for him to take the crown now as will, but he would rather wait and be sure that he knows what the remaining three have to say. e r r a n t no grave can hold my body down i'll crawl home to her

[Nihlus]

there's no religion that could save me

no matter how long my knees are on the floor

i'll pick up these broken pieces 'til i'm bleeding

if that'll make it right

He comes quietly, a small dark brown hare on the outskirts of the meeting. His large floppy ears hear all, his nose twitching from time to time, though he stays quiet for the most part. It is only when each of the men have shoved their opinions in as ungracefully as slugs that the colt squeezes his eyes shut and sets his nerves afire. Then, and only then, does the Nihlus they know add to the chaos with his own views.

"It is grandmother Scorch’s doing, though you’ll be lucky if she holds him there just long enough for the crown to be lifted from his insolent head.” A wry smirk colours his inky lips, for he knows what he speaks his true. On the contrary, he has a small headache and can’t seem to recall any of the words spoken by Scorch, but he knows that he’s definitely met her somewhere. The pains of time-altering magic, you know.

"Concerning Simeon – Uncle Simeon, that is – I don’t think we ought to discard him outright. Scorch would just be pissed, and we’d lose the most powerful alliance there is to have. That being said, I don’t want you fucking shit up as king, either.” The small colt scuffs the snow-strewn earth with his bark-lined foreleg. "Maybe he could just stay here and earn ranks as best as any of us can. That would secure the alliance without the men of the Tundra jostling their testosterone about uselessly.”

His faintly glowing blue eyes leave the group to settle on Errant specifically. "That being said, I support you totally as king, great uncle Errant. And also, I don’t want to be in either caste but I’ll still work for the Tundra, in case you haven’t noticed.” He’s referencing how he successfully blocked Errant and Kratos from getting stolen, but he’s sure his great-uncle would know this. Just certain.

Nihlus

rain manipulating, rabbit shifting son of Sinder & Noori

[Errant]

when my time comes around lay me gently in the cold dark earth Though he had wanted to wait, there is only so much time. Rigdon and Ianto’s son do not appear, but Nihlus does, and the grey-eyed stallion turns to him as the final vote. He has something to say about Scorch, and while Errant is not entirely sure that the colt’s estimation of the Amazons is entirely accurate, he is right on a few things. “Of course; Simeon is as welcome as any stallion to prove himself here. But there will be no handing out of ranks that are not deserved.” Errant had never meant that the roan stallion was unwelcome, and he glances over at the younger male to be sure that he had not interpreted anything the same way that Nihlus had. The colt then castes the final vote, and Errant nods sharply. “Thank you, Nihlus.” he says before turning to address the entirety of the gathered brothers. “Thank you for your trust in me,” he begins, “I will do my best to show that I am worthy of it.” And he will. This time he will be even better than before. “My first act as king is to banish Mountain from the Tundra. He’s endangered our kingdom and for that he is no longer welcome.” They all agree, he knows, even if they might bicker on how to deal with him. “When and if he returns from the Jungle, the first Brother to come across him is charged with informing him of his banishment. If he objects, bring him to me.” Errant wants to leave it at that, to let fairness triumph. But he knows that with madness in the equation there is not always a guarantee of equality. “If you have to subdue him and he is injured…” Errant pauses, and sighs, and hopes that they are not too eager for murder, but is aware that he cannot stay them, “That is understandable.” That, at least, is out of the way. They need still to decide what their relations with the rest of Beqanna will be, but for now, Errant decides, this is enough. e r r a n t no grave can hold my body down i'll crawl home to her