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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


    taste the fear ( Chamber, Tundra, Dale)
    #1

    N . O . C . T . U . S


    Thunder. Rain. Darkness. The night pours on, dark billowing clouds cover the night sky. This was not the night for outings that was for certain. The spring was trying to spring forth, but winter was having it's final say. The rising and clashing of temperatures was cause for a few storms now and then for the past few weeks since he left to search for his sister Naga. She could have been so useful....his key to following his mother to domination. But no, she had to slip away and take off. Naturally his mother practically was livid and selfish enough to have sent hounds from the deepest pits of hell after that girl. Her dark prince being her first in command when it came to the search, whilst she waits in the darkness where she belongs... So now here he is, soaked to the bone with a cold late winter's rain. He who had been under his mothers manipulative wing and sheltered by her, is now sent out into the elements to look for his damned little sister. She who had stolen his place in his mother's inky heart, she who had made him less special......because she had a gift. He hated her for it, even though he should be running with her, comforting her. But he has too much of his mother in his blood...too much of her influence had taken a tight grasp on his mind. There was not much that could deter him from the path that had been sublimitally laid out for him.

    The young black stag pushed on through hardened and slippery terrain, he knew he was almost to where he wanted to be. The darkness of the storm was making it hard to see where the ice patches, causing Noctus to skitter for balance from slipping every once and a while. The only light source he had was not from stars nor moon, but the occasional flash of lightning. This last flash was helpful, for he could see the silhouettes of horses just a bit further on. He began to trot forward, trying hard to keep his balance. He wanted to get a little closer, just enough so that he could be seen when the lightning struck. He scoped out a spot where he could be easily seen and planted himself. He wished he would have thought to come here in the day time...black horse in the field at night in a storm...great idea. He doesn't feel himself zone out and begins to remember going to this place when he was a young colt, before his sister was born. His mother brought him there when she was there to meet Naga's father. And then crossed it to go to the meadow, where he and his mother lived until just recently. Noctus snorted, realizing how silly he is for just letting himself daydream like that. He flicked his ears one at a time, and then shook himself all over. He hated rain...he couldn't wait for summer to sweep through. He wondered how this summer would treat him, a new place to call home will be interesting. His mother didn't ever like to stay in one place, or make commitments to a place. Though he was not opposed to that. He now feels odd not having his twisted mother by his side. Right now if she were with him, she would be talking to him about what to do. She would be giving him pointers on how to get into someone's head or just telling him to be the one to rise to greatness. It was like sweet...deadly...poison. This would be a first for him, not having her lurking in his shadow..     

    three | black | busted x shadowmere | stallion | no home | beequeen

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    #2



    Rogue thunderclouds race towards the Field. It’s late afternoon, and Talulah – along with her shadowing son – has not had a successful day of recruiting. They had talked and met with many horses but none who had suited the Dale. There were the sinister, creeping individuals who stayed hidden in the tree-line. There were some who slept openly in the sunlight, waking up at her voice only to turn her away with a grimace just as quickly. She felt sorry for many of the horses. Some seemed so lost. They looked at her with sad eyes; one even told her that he would only be a burden, as he had been his entire life.

    The grey mare resigns herself to ending another fruitless day in the Field. But just as the pair turns to leave, the heavens open up. Day turns into night as the swollen clouds let loose their load. Lightning crackles in great streaks in the distance, and Talulah decides to spend the night in the shelter of this place, rather than make the journey home. It’s too dark and stormy, an inverted reflection of her mood at the beginning of the day, but now a likeness that she is starting to resemble. She snorts irritably, calling Ramiel to park under the protection of a willow tree with her.

    The hours pass slowly. The rain eventually makes its way down past the woven limbs above them, and mother and son become drenched. It’s eerily quiet, save for the occasional thunderclap, and the black and gold colt soon drifts off to sleep. She watches over him, grateful for his stillness (for once, he isn’t running off on his own adventures). She sees his eyes darting under closed lids; she wonders what he dreams of. Does he imagine his future (is she in it, or does he move on, away from his family)? Is he the hero or the villain in his mind-stories?

    Talulah smiles contentedly, despite the current situation. She’s almost nodding off (but fighting it all the same) when she hears someone passing by. The mud sucks at their hooves, making the sound distinctly equine in source. She rouses Ramiel awake and they emerge into the gloom from their poor shelter. A lone black stallion blends almost seamlessly into the night. Talulah moves closer, a wary smile curving her lips. After all, he could have just returned from a long trek or he could just as easily mean to do harm, this late in the night. Hello. I’m Talulah.” She blinks as the rain trails down her forelock, sticking it to her face. Are you just coming back to Beqanna, or are you new here? Hell of a time to return, if so.”




    t a l u l a h
    lady of the Dale

    reference //info
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    #3
    when my time comes around
    lay me gently in the cold dark earth

    Errant has never cared for rain. It did not happen in the Desert and was snow when it fell in the Tundra. He’s experienced his fair share of storms though and this one sweeping through the common lands is no different than any other. Kratos would probably enjoy it, he thinks as he raises his head to watch lightening crackle across the sky. Nihlus certainly would; who is to say that the little rabbit-shifter was not the one that had started it off to begin with.

    He’s given up on socializing for the evening and plans on heading home as soon as the rain slows. For now he’s sheltering beneath the broad limbs of an oak. A flash of lightening suddenly illuminates a horse standing on a nearby hilltop and two other figures moving towards them. Errant considers leaving them to their damp conversation, but he is not at all tired and is becoming slightly bored, and so he leaves his shelter.

    The rain soaks him quickly, riding him of the last bits of dust and dirt. His black mane is quickly plastered to his neck and his tail to his legs, and when there is light in the sky his silvery scars stand in stark contrast to his raven-black coat. The weather has dulled his sense of smell, and so when he settles beside the mare and colt he turns suddenly. His grey gaze is piercing but soon he is offering them a smile; it is still difficult to think of Lea.

    “Hello. I’m Errant.” He does not give his kingdom affiliation, but he is wearing thick black winter mantle and Tundra scars. Perhaps if this black stranger is from outside Beqanna’s borders he will, but for now he does not feel the need. “There’s some shelter back there -” he gestures with a toss of his dark head, “If you wanted to get out of the rain.” He offers mostly for comfort’s sake, but his gaze flicks for a moment to the child at Talulah’s side. Best to keep young ones dry, he’s learned; they are prone to coughing fits if not and Errant has always been a rather horrible healer.



    e r r a n t

    no grave can hold my body down
    i'll crawl home to her



    [Image: leaanderrant_zpsqa4goyjv.gif]
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    #4

    We are at war. There will be scars.

    The rain does not bother Erebor.

    He is a soldier, a dauntless, fearless, ceaseless servant of his Chamber home, and little thing like a thunderstorm has never (and will never) stop him from carrying out his duty. He is still young, just a touch over yearling age, but he is already far older than his years, both in appearance and in demeanor.

    He arrives at the field early, speaking with many horses, and finding none of them suitable for the Chamber. It is hard these days, when one must speak with so many to find the right one. But he is determined, and he carries on throughout the day. And when the night comes, when the clouds roll in, when thunder plays its drum and lightning dances to the beat, Erebor stands hidden in the shadows, determined that he will not go home unsuccessful.

    It is right as he decides this that he hears the soft sucking of hooves in the mud. He is thoroughly soaked by this point, but he does not worry about it; a little wetness is nothing to the Chamber prince; no doubt he could take far worse and still stay standing. But the sound piques his interest, he flicks his ears toward it, straining to see the stranger in the darkness. He can catch outlines, glimpses, of a stallion as black as he is. But more importantly, between what he sees and what he hears, he has enough to follor.

    He moves gracefully, elegantly, with a crisp, military bearing. He is not the first one to seek the stallion out in the night, and he mentally marks it, noting just how desperate things must be for all of them that they find themselves here so late. He nods briskly to each, his eyes settling on the only one who does not already smell of a kingdom, the stallion who had arrived in the field in such a hurry.

    "Lovely evening." he greets them all, a hint of irony coloring his rich voice. "Pleasure to meet you all, I'm Erebor." His voice is older, deep for a yearling, more the voice that you'd expect from a stallion. And he is tall for his age as well, his coat a rich deep black virtually unbroken by white markings. Even in this driving rain, even standing, there is something military about his bearing. He is like a cadet, or a soldier, always standing at attention. This rain does not dull him; he is as sharp as ever.

    Like all the rest of them, he does not immediately state his kingdom affiliation. If they were to all show their cards and declare themselves, they'd be an interesting lot indeed – a Lady, a Prince, and a King – but here, now, they are simply silent companions, here courting a fourth, a still-nameless stallion who could be prince or king or so many other things.

    "You have our names." the boy speaks again, his voice confident, respectful for but not deferential. "What's yours?"

    Erebor

    Native Prince of the Chamber

    warship x straia

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    #5

    The storm began to get stronger as he pressed on along the edge of the trees. His long black mane and tail now stuck uncomfortably on his body. His face also covered by a long wet forelock. He didn't know why he just doesn't stop again to rest, but he felt that he would gain something by keeping on. Even though he blended effortlessly in the night, the sound of his hooves sticking in the mud would give him away to everyone and anyone. In no way could he be sneaky in this weather. Soon enough he too hears the sound of hooves in the mud, more than his four...a voice rings from behind him, female. His dark head swung round to look to whomever spoke. He noticed this mare was the color of the storm clouds above when a flash of lightning cracked from behind them. She introduces herself as Talulah, he just realizes this is the first horse that wasn't his mother or god forsaken sister that has ever spoken to him. He tries to muster up a sincere smile. The grey girl speaks again, this time asking if he is new to Beqanna. He had never spoken to an other horse before, the young stag is a little nervous to answer, but does anyway. "Hello Talulah, my name is Noctus...and yes, I am returning to Beqanna. I have been searching for my young sister...but alas, no luck." As he ends his sentence, he feels another presence. This time it was a black stallion filled with scarring like none he has ever seen before. If he were a less sheltered child, he would have known this was the scarring seen on the Tundra brothers. Noctus had no idea, mostly because his mother Shadowmere had been taken in as a prisoner there many years back, she hated the place ever since. The black scarred stallion offers his name and suggests shelter. This didn't seem like a bad idea to him. Plus he realized that his first companion has a very young child. He looks to Errant and nods his head, "Hello Errant, my name is Noctus...and shelter sounds good." He looks to Talulah and her foal, then back to Errant and takes a few steps toward the scarred stranger.

    As soon as he begins his walk forward, his ears flick backward as he hears more muddy hoofsteps. This time it was yet another large dark stallion. He wonders if he would look like Errant and this new dark stranger when he ages more. This stallion sounds older, and very much distinguished like Errant. This dark stag states his name, Erebor. Noctus nods his head respectfully, and speaks with his usual soft high voice. Puberty had not yet blessed the young black stag with a deeper voice. My name is Noctus. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." He now realizes he has no idea where these horses are from. Light orangey brown eyes gleam with curiosity from under long soaked strands of forelock. So, where are you all from? I never had a home growing up, my mother Shadowmere, she never liked to have one set place to stay. She had us live like nomads. I didn't mind, but my sister did. That is why I am here. I have been looking for my sister..." Noctus stops himself as the words began to sound dark.. He doesn't want to say anymore. Slipping his and his mother's dark plans for his sister would probably not go to smoothly. His face shows a bit of disgust at the thought of not pulling through on his end of his mother given mission, he doesn't realize his facial expression until a moment later. He shook his mane and forelock out, trying not to spray his company with water. He looks to all of them, wondering what their stories are, their pasts. But he has no power to figure that out. Seeing other horses interacting normally without any manipulative tones was new to him. With three horses here, he wondered if he would end up following one of them back to where they are from.
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    #6



    The rain is certainly annoying to deal with, and maybe if circumstances were different at home, Talulah would have known when to fold (if the Dale hadn’t grown more and more silent as winter wound down, if she had been more successful on her countless trips to the recruiting grounds). For these reasons and more - and her inherently stubborn nature, perhaps – she stays.

    The night seems to darken further as two more black stallions join the first. One is stocky and bears the scars of a Tundra brother. She remembers that cold kingdom, remembers how even in summer, the southern breeze feels more like autumn. She remembers, too, that she owes them a diplomatic visit. Barring any disapproval from a recently returned Tiphon, the grey mare makes a mental note to hasten her trip. The next black horse is actually a colt. He’s a yearling, the same age as Ramiel, but he is unaccompanied by his mother. She is surprised to see such a young recruiter and later, even more surprised at his poise and attempt at doing so.

    They huddle around the homeless horse, a circle of black save for her silver. Errant offers her his previous shelter and she smiles at this kindness, rainwater dripping from the corners of her upturned lips. Before she can voice her thanks, however, Ramiel steps up. He is less trusting than his dam and wonders if it was a clever ploy to eliminate the competition. “Rain grows the world. I don’t mind it.” It is only half of a truth, because as much as he likes the drops racing down his sides, the earliness of the season makes them rather cold. He wants to be brave, though. He wants to not mind, to be immune from anything that would make him less.

    “Thank you,” Talulah says anyway, nodding in appreciation before turning back to the matter at hand. Noctus answers her, albeit with a wavering voice that speaks to his nerves. It makes her all the more curious about this sneaking creature of the night who returns when most others are fast asleep. What has brought him back? Is he fearful of what is behind, or what lies before him? Motherhood has softened some of her sharpest edges, and she feels an instant sympathy for Noctus.

    He speaks of his past and it becomes clearer why he is running. His nomadic childhood would certainly prevent him from growing roots or an attachment to any one place. Talulah wonders if he’s now ready, if that’s why he’s chosen the Field as his next stop. “Our home is the Dale. It’s east of here, nestled in the mountains.” Her eyes are thoughtful and full of love for her home. She could wax poetic about it the rest of the night, but she figures the others might not be so keen on that idea. Instead, the mare looks to the other males before returning her gaze to Noctus. “We are like a surrogate family there, but I understand the importance of blood family, too.” Ramiel stirs at her side at this – he knows his mother’s anguish at meeting her father only once after her mother died, a brief meeting with a decrepit old man she couldn’t save and barely knew. He chimes in, his voice polite but curious all the same. “Where was the last place you saw your sister?”




    t a l u l a h
    lady of the Dale

    reference //info
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    #7
    when my time comes around
    lay me gently in the cold dark earth

    The stallion – Noctus – takes Errant up on his offer, and the black horse turns to lead the way only to find yet another stranger. This one is no older than the colt at Talulah’s side but acts with poise befitting an older creature. Errant studies him with curious grey eyes, and though the rain has dampened his sense of smell, can still identify the sharp scent of pin on the boy’s wet coat. The Chamber had an impressive batch of children last spring it would seem, if this boy is any indication.

    Noctus asks where they are from, but quickly follows with a tale of his own, and Errant is content to listen quietly as Talulah answers. Her words conjure an image of the Dale, a series of rolling hills tucked between the mountains. Errant shakes his head – clearing the water, of course – and does his best to think no more of the neutral kingdom.

    “I’m from the Tundra,” he replies, “It’s to the north. ” He gestures in the general direction of the place with his dark head. Errant has not missed the puzzling look of disgust on the other male’s face at the mention of his sister. He wonders why he is here in the rain, looking for a family member that does not seem to bring him much pleasure. But it is not Errant’s place to ask, and so he does not inquire. He would look for Scorch if she went missing, he’s sure, but he might be a bit slow about it.

    The Dalean colt asks about the last whereabouts of Noctus’ missing sibling, and Errant glances at the boy for a moment. He probably wants to help, Errant thinks, a good attribute to have in the family type of kingdom that Talulah has suggested. Errant could help too, probably more efficiently than most other horses, but he does not offer. Partially because he is not inclined to waste, and partially because he is not entirely sure how to interpret the brief disgust on Noctus’ face.

    “Are you interested in a home, or in finding your sister?” He asks, turning his attention back to the black stallion. “The Tundra can offer you a home – a brotherhood; I can also help you find your sister.” He offers each thing separately and does not add that he is willing to do both. Errant is mostly interested in what the black stallion will choose, and what that choice will say about his worth as a potential member of the Brotherhood.



    e r r a n t

    no grave can hold my body down
    i'll crawl home to her



    [Image: leaanderrant_zpsqa4goyjv.gif]
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    #8

    We are at war. There will be scars.

    The boy listens closely. He is not quite a boy anymore, more a young man, growing into his precocious mind . The names don't ring a bell with him – he doesn't know who Shadowmere is or was, and he isn't aware of any strange sisters wandering around looking for a brother – and he's not sure how far he's willing to go down this road. Finding this boy's sister would do little for the Chamber, and if it's not worthwhile for the Chamber, well he'll be damned if he does it.

    They go around the room, each horse (or in the case of the Dale, pair of horses) taking their turn, a polite cacophony. They're all sympathetic, all solicitous, all ready to help the boy find his sister. But if she were in true danger, he wouldn't look like this. He wouldn't be stopping to speak with them, trading pleasantries like lamplights in the darkness and the rain. He'd be running, he'd be desperate. And he clearly isn't.

    None of what he's thinking is reflected on his face or in his gentle smile. He's quite charming, when he wants to be. And right now, he's decided he still wants to be. "I'm from the Chamber of Evil. We are a family, although not all bound by blood." He pauses for a moment. "The Chamber can offer you a home, and it can offer you help in finding your sister." He pauses then, considering. "Or it can offer you the opportunity to start anew, in a place where neither your mother nor your sister have power."

    The other horses have offered help, either explicitly or implicitly, with the sister search. But Erebor doesn't see that as being productive for any of them. The boy said himself that his sister disliked his mother, it's easy enough to see how family ties could splinter and rupture in such an environment. True enough the Chamber could help him track down, well anyone really. But did he want to do it? Did he want to track her down? The boy has a hunch that perhaps the answer is no.

    Around them, the rain continues to fall.

    Erebor

    Native Prince of the Chamber

    warship x straia

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