01-15-18 ★ A quick update to start off after the pause is a new short form to fill out when posting for approval (new characters from here on out) to have a record for all team of the Staff to look over when changes are made to make it easier for both sides. Be sure to check to check it out on our new approval thread! (Read More)

01-02-18 ★ LTTS will be having a pause on staff actions on the site on January 1st till the 15th. (Read More)

01-08-18 ★ There's now a way to check out who are in the herds alongside their ranks. Check them out underneath the Who's Online area on the index page! And, the herd pixels are back right below these news blurbs.

     



  Mid-Winter, Year 2    Leviticus Era
A meeting for the Knights of Lyrus is being hosted by Commander Kodarki in the Red Waste!
Destroyah has lost to Draco in a heated fight, but we're sure we'll see more from the mare!
Valor the dragon-horse has lost against Zuriel, fighting on behalf of Etain for Crucis!
The Hall of the Dead now has an official forum within the Depths.
Beaufort takes Amapola to the Creation Pool after she was badly beaten by Valor.
Valor calls together the horses of the Viridian Fields for a meeting.

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Rogue

Neutral
 Adult, 10 yrs  Stallion
 16.3 hh  1300 lbs
10 Posts 55 points
 Moseley Offline
Posted on Jan 10 2018, 7:48 PM. (Edited: Jan 10 2018, 7:50 PM by Goblin.)
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#1



It was shiny. And it was stuck in the branches above his head, just out of Goblin reach. Teasing his one-track mind as he reached up with a black nose at first. Then, he reached up with a single hoof - raising it to strike at the bark of the tree. But that did nothing except make noise.

New plan. The Goblin raised himself up on his hind hooves, striking both forehooves at the branches of the tree in desperation to grab the shiny thing. His cloak - another thing he had grabbed because it was shiny in places - was smothered in the grime and grease of the marshlands but he didn't care. He didn't know how to care. He didn't even know he didn't know how to care. Or even - okay, You get the point.

So the hooves reached up towards the shiny thing and at last - At Last! - they struck it. And the shiny thing fell. Down, down down, straight onto the Goblin's head. Where it shattered with the horrendous sound and feeling of breaking glass.

Only, that wasn't all that happened. The air seemed to fill with a blinding light. All of a sudden, the Goblin couldn't breathe. He couldn't feel. He couldn't see. It was just pure, white light for a few brief eternities, until it wasn't.

When it wasn't, the Goblin had his name back. He had his mind back. His chest was burning with the searing pain of being stabbed through the chest with his own blade again. He gasped for air, sucking it into starved lungs until he could steady the swaying of his four limbs in the marsh.

He was in a marsh. A marsh! Ha ha ha...

He screamed. And screamed and screamed and screamed for it was all he could think to do. He could think - I can think! - and he could see and he could remember. But he couldn't remember. I can't remember. How did he get here? How did I get here? What year is it? What century is it? Where is everyone? Where is here?

So many sudden questions and senses bombarding him at once, it was all far too much. So, he simply screamed.


walking like a zombie
OOC| o.o I forgot how to breathe writing this. Sorry it it's confusing >.< Basically smashed a faerie in a jar and Voila! No more zombie - mostly


Rogue

Neutral
 Adult, 4 yrs  Stallion
 17.2 hh  1800 lbs
83 Posts 635 points
 Ritsika Offline
Posted on Jan 10 2018, 8:25 PM.
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#2

Kyrian

As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,,

A winged equine pushed his way through the dense foliage. Cypress trees clustered around him and seemed to try to block his path, or perhaps they were guiding him; whatever their reason, the draft wasn’t in the mood for their games as he was aiming to leave the marsh. The sentience of this place was starting to prickle at the edges of his awareness. The silver-gray hair upon his topline was standing on end and it wasn’t because of the cold. About to head south, the brute snorted when he came upon dense, wilted bracken fern and black grass. That he could have pressed through but the thorny remains of the swamp rose made him hesitate. He didn’t appreciate the idea of being pricked. Turning to the clearer southeast direction, he continued at a sedate stride.

The everglade was decorated by the gifts of winter, his bright gaze taking in the layers of frost and dusting of snow. The roan’s thick winter coat allowed him warmth during his exploits so he was in no hurry to leave and find shelter. He simply wanted a new place to explore in the hopes of relieving his tedium. 

As if to grant his wish, a scream split the air. Onyx ears snapped to attention as a masculine head bolted upright upon a thick, arched neck. Intense citrine eyes scanned the vicinity for an signs of life as the cry persisted. His audits informed him that he needed to head more directly to the east and miraculously a beaten trail presented itself to him. Without a second thought the stallion charged toward the loud, piercing cry. It didn’t sound too far off.

Sure enough, bursting forth from spindly alders and rustling underbrush, the rogue came to a skidding halt at the sight of a speared equine. The broad sword pierced their chest and emerged from their back. His eyes widened at the sight and the orbs darkened with worry. "Ho! What has happened to you?" he shouted to be heard over the continuous screaming. The pegasus felt his limbs move forward but he was helpless. What could be done?


"Your character's speech tags." | | "Your character's thinking tags."
 
OOC | Goblin
Words | number


Rogue

Neutral
 Adult, 10 yrs  Stallion
 16.3 hh  1300 lbs
10 Posts 55 points
 Moseley Offline
Posted on Jan 12 2018, 1:29 PM.
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#3



He kept screaming until his throat and lungs were raw with the effort. The sound just kept going and going and going, filling the marsh with his panicked voice. It was a haunting sound, bouncing mercilessly off the trees and undampened by the lingering wet of the air.

When at last he ran out of precious oxygen, feeling no more settled or able to form any more coherent thoughts. There was simply the rawness of his throat and ragged, heaving breaths were drawn in and quickly lost. Black eyes were blown wide in a pure state of panic. Nothing but beautiful, terrible panic.

It was his whole world now, this single instant. There was no recollection to be had of how the man had gotten here, how he had passed whatever landmarks had led him here, how long had passed since his last memory. He could only vaguely guess that he was miles from his home, centuries from his loved ones. And there was absolutely no way back.

Cautiously, his head turned, only to come to a halting stop when the visage of another living, equine being was there. Goblin stared at him, long and with haunted eyes, as if the man was a ghost, but at the same time, there was so much relief in the gaze it was heart-wrenching. He was like a man who had not seen a single lifeform in far, far too long. Like until this very moment he had believed he was the only man left. That his cries, no matter how loud they were, would never again be answered. But they had.

There was no telling how long the other man had stood there and watched the Goblin scream. No telling if he had yelled over the sound. Not a word had penetrated the stabbed man's skull, but he was listening now, with gasps of breath short but smoother than they were before.

"W - w- w..." his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth as he tried to work his jaw. The once smooth and beautiful voice was broken and unresponsive. As if he hadn't spoken a single word for centuries. There was no telling if he had or not.

The red head shook jerkily, eyes not moving from the grey pegasus. Every muscle in the Goblin's lean body was taught to the point of snapping due to the tension. But he couldn't relax them. He didn't know how.

"Where am I?" he pleaded, words forming at last.

walking like a zombie
OOC| Kyrian He doesn't seem to think the sword is the issue here >.>


Rogue

Neutral
 Adult, 4 yrs  Stallion
 17.2 hh  1800 lbs
83 Posts 635 points
 Ritsika Offline
Posted on Jan 16 2018, 7:26 AM.
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#4

Kyrian

I wear my crown of thorns and pull the knife out my chest ,,

"W - w- w..."

The wounded stallion stammered and sputtered. It seemed as though his airways were constricted. The draft sympathized as his ebony ears strained forward, encouraging the stranger to release his words or simply breathe. He wasn’t sure he would be able to speak if the circumstance was reversed. Thinking upon the matter for a brief instance his roman sloped head would minutely shift left to right in a negative. No, words would evade him as well. Perhaps the rogue would be able to stave off death as best he could in order to have one last glimpse of his loved ones and friends. Their faces flashed through his mind's eye: a regal sapphire profile, the wise gray eyes staring straight into his soul, a pair of mischievous amethyst orbs smirking his way.  Yet the idea of having their final image of him being so brutally maimed had him instantly acknowledging the fact that he would not put that burden upon them. The roan stallion would not be so greedy that he would put them through that. He would have to rely on his memories and gather his strength for a final whispered message. Returning to the present, he avidly watched the blood red bay toss his head side to side.

"Easy," the winged equine soothed weakly while taking a hesitant step forward in case the other stallion became unsteady on his hooves. The impaled stud was so taut that he looked like a predator about to spring into action. Was he feral with pain? Or refraining from writhing in agony? In startling contrast, droplets of blood splattered and stained the frozen ground beneath solid hooves. The pungent scent was filling the air. Citrine orbs took in the grim scene in eerie detached confusion when the mortally injured male managed to croak a question.

Caught off guard, he was dumbfounded – no, mind boggled. Had he truly asked about his whereabouts? That seemed like a lesser anxiety considering the broad blade piercing his chest and protruding from his back. Dazed, the pegasus indulged the inquiry with a calm response, "You are in the Sentient Marshlands." Finally taking note of the foreign material draped upon the hurt stud’s back, it looked to be a cloak. In its prime, the cloak must have been an eye catching and elegant piece but it looked worse for wear as if the pair had traveled many miles together. "A smaller territory within the borders of Elysium." The baroque hoped that the clarification might spark a modicum of recognition. For the time being, he was overwhelmed by the whole situation. He wasn't a healer. This was beyond his ability to console. Wherever this wandered had come from, he was in danger of dying. 

"We need to get you a healer." But who? Who could heal such a grievous wound? Maybe he should be concerned with finding the murderous foe instead. He would bring them to justice if only he knew their name, "Who did this to you?"

"Your character's speech tags." | | "Your character's thinking tags."
 
OOC | Goblin you have a very concerned citizen at your aide. Signed Ky 
Words | number


Rogue

Neutral
 Adult, 10 yrs  Stallion
 16.3 hh  1300 lbs
10 Posts 55 points
 Moseley Offline
Posted on Jan 16 2018, 12:03 PM.
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#5



Having words to put down as answers to his questions offered a form of relief, even if he couldn't process the information. But he clung to the words, the names offered to him, like they were a lifeline. Repeating them over and over and over again in the syrupy haze in his skull, they became a mantra until at last he could try and form them on his dry tongue.

"S-s-s-e-e-sen-n-n-t-t-eint Mar-mar-marsh-lan-d-s a-a-and E-e-e-l-l-e-e-e-s-s-e-e-um," the words were stammered and stuttered with such gratefulness, his voice smoother and calmer than when he had begged for information.

The grullo pegasus had stepped closer, standing taller than him and possibly big enough to wrap his wings around the Goblin's frame. Well, partially at least.

"H...h... heal-er?" he choked the word out, finding things more than a single syllable difficult to wrap his mouth around. The word evoked images of herbs, bandages and war wounds. Healers. Physicians. Was he bleeding?

The Goblin threw his head to the side frantically, searching his body for gaping wounds he feared he had. But there were none, simply the spot where his sword gaped from his back and had been pressed through his chest. But there was blood amongst the ancient scarring surrounding the wounds. He pulled together the pieces, the pain he had felt that still lingered.

The shiny had been magic. He could figure that much out. It had pulled him from whatever stupor he had been plunged into, but it had also tried to pull the sword from his body. Only to move it back into place the same instant when it realised it was the sword itself that kept the Goblin in place on the Earth. It kept him alive - without it, he would have died blissfully nine entire centuries ago.

"S-s-sword is... is fine," he hoped the man wouldn't push the issue, but perhaps being taken to a healer wouldn't be so bad. They could assess the issue and come to their own conclusion that yes - the thick, ancient blade was keeping him alive rather than stealing his life away.

Who did this to him? Who did what to him? Who pierced him with his own blade? His closest friend, his second in command - at his own insistence. Who had forced that to happen? The long-dead child King. Who had forced him to walk among the living for nine centuries? God had. Who had pulled him from a wandering coma? Fate. Go. He didn't know. He simply landed a puzzled look at the grullo, muscles still coiled so rigidly they trembled but he still didn't know how to ease them. 

walking like a zombie
OOC| Kyrian xD Poor Kyrian


Rogue

Neutral
 Adult, 4 yrs  Stallion
 17.2 hh  1800 lbs
83 Posts 635 points
 Ritsika Offline
Posted on Today, 1:43 AM. (Edited: Today, 1:44 AM by Kyrian. Edit Reason: Forgot to tag Goblin )
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#6

Kyrian

I wear my crown of thorns and pull the knife out my chest ,,

In a painfully dry voice, the stabbed stallion struggled to form words as he simply repeated the names given to him. Neither the calling of the neutral territory they stood in nor the land as a whole appeared to spark recognition in those bottomless black orbs. With the bloodied body standing stock still and coiled tighter than a rattlesnake before him, the pegasus listened while he eyed the stranger warily as his cast his head about in clear distress. The bay was doing remarkably well maintaining his feet, all things considered, but he seemed not to notice the sword. This baffled the winged equine and he was about to mention the obvious when the other male stuttered, unconcerned, about the broad blade piercing his chest.

He must be mad, was the initial thought that blared through the roan’s mind. Perhaps it was the loss of blood that made the wounded stud heedless to the gravity of his wound. It was a mortal blow! The precious metal had struck true through the heart. Then a more rational reasoning popped into the draft’s head: shock. Though he wasn’t skilled in the craft of healing the brute had been raised by a competent curer and recalled the term. Due to brutal trauma, especially in combination with extensive blood loss, an equine could enter a state of shock where the body and mind didn’t synchronize properly anymore. If left untreated this foreigner would perish. The only remedies coming to mind were to treat the obvious wound – which was way out of his caliber – and keep the wounded warm. With winter chilling the air, the dark faced stallion knew that keeping this stranger warm might prove challenging even though they had a well-worn cloak. Shifting closer yet the baroque stud opened his left wing such that the feathered appendage hovered above the back of the other stallion in an attempt to keep whatever heat he produced near to him.

Cloven hooves shifting uneasily, the dusk winged stallion didn’t like the far-off look on the stranger’s face. He could be in deep thought or about to breathe his last breath. The cloaked body was trembling on rooted limbs. He didn’t want to watch this unknown male die. But what more could he do? Desperately, the rogue blurted out "What is your name? Where do you hail from?" Cursing under his breathe because he remembered how sore the lithe stud’s throat sounded he wished he had a drink to offer him, but only the half-frozen muck surrounded them and a sip of that rancid water didn’t sound appealing.

"By the way, I’m Kyrian."

"Your character's speech tags." | | "Your character's thinking tags."
 
OOC | Goblin So concerned that he forgot to introduce himself. He clearly thinks the sword is a huge issue. xD
Words | number




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