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    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


    you're the blood of my blood; tannor | killdare | brynmor | kimber
    #1

    BROTHER, LET ME BE YOUR FORTRESS, WHEN THE NIGHT WINDS ARE DRIVING ON.
    I CAN BE THE ONE TO LIGHT YOUR WAY; I WILL BRING YOU HOME.

       The warmth of spring has arrived, and with it, it has drawn many out of the shadows and into the basking burst of sunlight and among the blooming wildflowers and fresh, lively blades of grass, which fight against the frost that remains splattered across the landscape. Afternoon has dawned upon them - the light of the sun as it begins to fade beyond the horizon highlights the usually cobalt sky in brilliant hues of maroon and tangerine, bathing the day in its glory. He is not altogether adjusted to the terrain, not as of yet. It feels unusually warm and uncomfortable, to which he allows himself to encase his scarred pelt of obsidian in a light layer of ice, which clings tightly to his skin and quenches his deeply-set desired for cooler weather. 

       Beyond the various colors that illustrate the rebirth of the sprawling meadows and rolling hills is a lively, massive willow, with enormous, draping branches - it is aglow with a light all of its own, and he knows better than to approach it. He is wary of the border, and his nostrils fill with the familiar scent of territorial marking - he comes to an easing halt, the edges of his hefty hooves pressing into the moist, soft soil beneath him. He feels another settle close to him; the very individual who was slowly becoming his go-to man - his right-hand. Brynmor was certainly developing a strong sense of diplomacy and held a great deal of value to the brotherhood as a whole; he valued his opinion and input on many matters and hoped that this particular venture would prove to be less volatile and more productive than the last had been.

       Then again, Brynmor had struggled with a rough youth - enslaved to a kingdom that had caused him grief and pain, which would make anyone wary of their intentions, past or present. He doubted the same could be said for this land, for the Gates. Once virtuous and true, their motives had rarely erred on the side of violence or manipulation - though change was upon the horizon and nothing was predictable now. He knew naught of their intentions and with any luck, he would soon find himself closer to sealing the brotherhood's fate - alliance or foe.

       His breath grows shallow and his dark crimson gaze observes the seemingly empty, rambling plain, though he knows better. His own men knew in which crevices to hide from the midday sun and icy cold gusts of wind that so often tore through their quiet, open domain - he knew it would be no different here, as various thickets and patches of foliage lined the land. It was only a matter of times until someone emerged to greet him, or perhaps condemn him. Change was shifting throughout the land; a shifting upset of tradition and what was expected. He had heard little of this King and even less of how he came to rise, but he was certain he would know enough of him in due time.

       He tilts his head towards the sky, where thin, drifting clouds ease through dusk lazily above him. A deep, ringing call comes forth from his throat, echoing against the vast emptiness that lay before him. He knows that it is only a matter of time until Killdare is at his and Brynmor's side - a newly founded alliance at their heels, as they push forward, seeking to engage another. He is curious as to the persona and intentions of the new King in these lands, and insisted upon bridging the gap of communication. 

       He wanted security for his men, safety for their women and children. The time apart from his growing family grew heavy on his mind, but he pushed forward, determined and set in his intentions. He falls into a lull, his breathing slow and deliberate, his swiveling ears pressed to the gentle breeze as he settles in silence, waiting



    OFFSPRING

    the ice king of the tundra

    @[Killdare] @[tannor] @[Brynmor]
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    #2
    ± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
    Of course as the days began to grow longer so did his duties. The time of rest and aimless patrols was over and in their wake were endless meetings and decisions to be made. Killdare had not taken the crown lightly but it was almost thrust upon him nonetheless. It was a burden but a burden he was proud to carry for his Kingdom, something he would do ten times over if it were ever asked of him. Even with the high price they had paid for it, as selfish as that may sound. It is what it is thought isn’t it? Power is paid for in blood and there was no escape or loophole to be had.

    It’s peculiar the pair, setting forth from their respective homes, polar opposites in appearance. Though both were respectfully built each held an element that was the others opposite, fire and ice like that age old poem everyone seems to love. Even if propositioned with the question himself Killdare would choose fire, he would most certainly choose fire. He was fire, his home was fire, everything in his life seemed to depend on the burning element that both gave and took life.

    His quiet mood stems from the self-discipline he had so cruelly been taught as a young child, he did not wish to speak ill with or to the Ice King’s shadow of a diplomat, so instead he did not speak at all. He busied himself with idle chatter inwardly, thinking of how this particular meeting would go, who might show, but he was not truly worried about the Gates or her people. Once he had escorted the Princess to the Valley it was sure that in her place the Valley would send its own chosen one to the Gates, an eye for an eye in a sense but all for one singular purpose. Shifting the power, the alignment of the realms to bring forth change and strength where once it was barely held on to. He assumed that even now Eight was carefully seeing to the Heaven born girl, molding her into a definitive Queen and woman. Best of luck, he thought, knowing the trials of girl children himself.

    Even now he thought on his own for a moment, a young painted girl, woman now, was it? Their lives seeming to blur by in a breath, now his own was at a standstill only thanks to the Chamber herself.

    When Offspring stops Killdare follows suit, his burning eyes delving into the vastness of the Gates’ meadows. An ever quiet Kingdom was it? Lush already even at the birth of spring, the land here was rich and fertile, nothing like his own home and this is why he simply stares forever into the sprawling grasses and clover. At the sound of the Tundra’s call his sooty ears pull back, listening and waiting for movement.

    Nothing came, save for the rhythmic buzz of gnats and when he could stand the stillness no longer he gave his own greeting. Peeling the charcoal of his skin away to expose the inferno that bubbled beneath. A raging earth core, a living being all its own as it pooled and boiled into itself, he was only calling to one in particular with this wretched, blistering heat. A soundless chant to appeal to something darker than he.
    KILLDARE
    magma King of the Chamber


    is this okay mr tannor?
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    #3
    Brynmor

    "With my speechless calm eyes."

    Today’s destination was the Gates, or the Heavenly Gates as some referred to it. After visiting the Valley and having met the Chamber’s king that had come to the Tundra, it would be the final destination. Okay, that was not entirely true as Brynmor still had another trip planned, but that one would be less diplomatic as this visit. It a tad bit more personal and although the gray male still didn’t like the idea, he knew he had to do it. Maybe then he would be able to see the changes, and finally get over the past. Mentally sighing the decides he shouldn’t keep postponing that particular visit, as this trip to the Gates would be the last important one for now.

    He’s silent as he walks besides his king, his mind busy replaying the conversations he had with the two other monarchs. He isn’t entirely sure what Offspring was looking for in the Gates and with their new king, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t curious to learn. It would make an odd pair, but if this change was really happening, stranger things might be ahead of them. Eventually Brynmor pushes the thoughts out of his head and instead he focusses on his new found ability.

    The lands they crossed were much better area’s for him to practise, as there was no snow that would give his presence away. Every day he got closer to successfully turn himself invisible, but the formerly blind man still struggled a little to keep the invisibility up as he was moving. Thus far he was able to stay invisible as long as he didn’t move, or barely moved. Most of the time Brynmor didn’t like the prying eyes, but the black king’s presence didn’t bother him much. They had grown closer lately and the gray counsellor was growing more and more fond about his king.

    When he stops besides the black ice king he stops his attempts, content with the slight progress he felt like he had made today, and he didn’t want it to disturb the diplomatic visit. He didn’t want the Gates to feel like he was about to sneak into the kingdom while being invisible, it could turn things against them.

    ”Killdare” he greet she magma king with a slight dip of his head, glancing over towards the green eyed male. They were an odd group. One red eyed (Offspring), one green eyed (Killdare) and one blue eyed (Brynmor). But other than that Brynmor looked terribly plain next to his brother king and their ally – tentative ally. Except for the black wolf paw scar on his chest he was completely ordinary.

    Finally Brynmor looks away again, but not after offering Offspring a small smile. His gaze travels across the Gates, for as far as he could see it from where they stood at their border. The kingdom seemed much different than the places he had already seen. Where the Chamber and Valley still had some similarities – far as Brynmor could say that, since he had been blind during the years he had lived in the Chamber – the Gates gave off an entirely different vibe.

    "Nothing is coming to rise."

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    #4
    The blue mare was not far behind the magma King in his journey to the Gates mostly out of curiosity and partially because he didn't explicitly say she couldn't go. It was not as protection by any means, the once General could certainly fair on his own and the blue mare knows such. She stays slightly behind intentionally and although this is her usual, something is very different. She uses this time to reflect on everything that's transpired in the last short two years. A darkness creeps up inside of her like the shadows swallow the last remnants of sunlight. The warrioress plays a tough game of poker face but the reality is at some point that facade must come off. The only thing that's kept her from emotional turbulence is the fact she's in denial.

    She watches as Killdare approaches the two stallions who smell of the crisp mountains and Tundra, their very infantile alliance and a small sigh of relief washes over her that it is not enemies we join with today...at least not yet. The brash mare knows that this is a time to keep a tight lip (if it's possible that is) and to provide an extra set of ears, eyes and muscle if necessary. She makes no fuss about her arrival, scanning the area quietly as her neck swings low grabbing some of the lush grass the spring has provided. The Chamber was not a place of great vegetation or sweet songs of birds chirping, it was shedding its skin so to speak. "Killdare," she says with a crooked smile, turning to the Tundra men, "Kimber, one of the Captain's of the Chamber, pleased ta' meet ya." She has a certain drawl about her that is irresistibly charming but it is ill fitting - she is as sweet as a lemon. She thinks back now at the Gate's mare she met in the field and hopes that somehow, Vessel hadn't ended up here. Although the talk of war was far from anyone's lips, it wasn't so easy to let go of and she was certain it would be a great while before she did.

    The blue mare was born with a grudge, it's easy for her to hold onto them.
    Kimber
    sui domina et libera
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