<![CDATA[̷ᴇQᴜᴜꜱ - Ethereal Reach]]> https://equus-rpg.com/ Thu, 23 Apr 2026 16:09:16 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[forged in fire]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=526 Fri, 06 Dec 2024 12:02:13 -0600 Issachar Ragnulf]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=526 A broken barrier and demons surging forth would be a nightmare for many, but for Issachar it brought an excitement he had been seeking in this world after death. He never sought a peaceful retirement when he was alive, he knew he would be killed by a monster one way or another, and for him to continue hunting horrors in the afterlife? How perfect

But one thing was missing. His swords.

Whether they were lost in the seas that brought him to this world or remained with him in the living, he didn’t know, but he felt naked without them. He had his teeth, his hooves, the blade-like horn jutting from his forehead, but they weren’t the same. He needed his blades, even just one would do.

The heat made his dappled coat dampen with sweat beneath his dragon-scale armor as he trotted along the narrow cliffside. The distant sounds of panicked equines and cackling demons filled his ears. He had seen their shapes further up in the rock, wreaking havoc in the caverns that other equines had made their homes in. If only he had his swords.

Issachar came to abrupt halt, sending a cascade of pebbles tumbling down the steep cliff edge to this right. On the path ahead of him stood a dark figure, their shape vaguely equine, but the edges blurred and blending into their surroundings. A demon. If they had noticed Issachar, they made no indication of it.

From study and previous encounters with demons, he knew that demons offered deals, sometimes to those they thought worthy, other times to those they thought easy to take advantage of. A deal could result in a fate much worse than death but it was that exact high risk that filled Issachar with the need to try.

You, demon! Issachar shouted his hooves carried him forward at a steady walk, his head held high and confident. I want to make a deal with you!

OOC: If all goes well, hoping to exchange SS for a magic sword with an attack bonus if that's alright!
]]> A broken barrier and demons surging forth would be a nightmare for many, but for Issachar it brought an excitement he had been seeking in this world after death. He never sought a peaceful retirement when he was alive, he knew he would be killed by a monster one way or another, and for him to continue hunting horrors in the afterlife? How perfect

But one thing was missing. His swords.

Whether they were lost in the seas that brought him to this world or remained with him in the living, he didn’t know, but he felt naked without them. He had his teeth, his hooves, the blade-like horn jutting from his forehead, but they weren’t the same. He needed his blades, even just one would do.

The heat made his dappled coat dampen with sweat beneath his dragon-scale armor as he trotted along the narrow cliffside. The distant sounds of panicked equines and cackling demons filled his ears. He had seen their shapes further up in the rock, wreaking havoc in the caverns that other equines had made their homes in. If only he had his swords.

Issachar came to abrupt halt, sending a cascade of pebbles tumbling down the steep cliff edge to this right. On the path ahead of him stood a dark figure, their shape vaguely equine, but the edges blurred and blending into their surroundings. A demon. If they had noticed Issachar, they made no indication of it.

From study and previous encounters with demons, he knew that demons offered deals, sometimes to those they thought worthy, other times to those they thought easy to take advantage of. A deal could result in a fate much worse than death but it was that exact high risk that filled Issachar with the need to try.

You, demon! Issachar shouted his hooves carried him forward at a steady walk, his head held high and confident. I want to make a deal with you!

OOC: If all goes well, hoping to exchange SS for a magic sword with an attack bonus if that's alright!
]]> <![CDATA[Fickle]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=506 Sun, 01 Sep 2024 14:43:26 -0500 Malika]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=506
It unsettled her and she had yet to put a hoff on it and she was bussy trying to figure out why. It was not like she feared it crumbeling under her weigh. Falling was fear she had outgrown a long time ago. Still every time she had tried to get on it unease had made her back away again. It was stupid. She should have goten up and walked away. She had lost any track of how long she had been here. watching the bridge to nowhere. Her time of rest and turned in to a restless cycle. Again and again reapiting the same actions.

She sighed as she got back up again. Gaze never leaving the cursed thing that had trapped her here with invisable chains. She could do it, Just walk up it and fly away, or better yet turn around and leave. She shock her body, trying the get rid of the anxious energy and failing. She lined her self up with the bridge. Took a deep breath. Closed her eyes

Opened them again. walked forwards with purpose. 4 steps left. the road she was walking crumbeling just up head. 4. Nowhere left to go. 3 Yet all she had to do was turn around. 2 Endless options she hadn't even considere. 1.

She stoped, hoff dangeling just above the stones. Her head droped as she placed her leg down on safe ground.]]>
It unsettled her and she had yet to put a hoff on it and she was bussy trying to figure out why. It was not like she feared it crumbeling under her weigh. Falling was fear she had outgrown a long time ago. Still every time she had tried to get on it unease had made her back away again. It was stupid. She should have goten up and walked away. She had lost any track of how long she had been here. watching the bridge to nowhere. Her time of rest and turned in to a restless cycle. Again and again reapiting the same actions.

She sighed as she got back up again. Gaze never leaving the cursed thing that had trapped her here with invisable chains. She could do it, Just walk up it and fly away, or better yet turn around and leave. She shock her body, trying the get rid of the anxious energy and failing. She lined her self up with the bridge. Took a deep breath. Closed her eyes

Opened them again. walked forwards with purpose. 4 steps left. the road she was walking crumbeling just up head. 4. Nowhere left to go. 3 Yet all she had to do was turn around. 2 Endless options she hadn't even considere. 1.

She stoped, hoff dangeling just above the stones. Her head droped as she placed her leg down on safe ground.]]> <![CDATA[ave satani]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=493 Tue, 07 May 2024 17:13:03 -0500 Berith Traegur]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=493


A mewling sound slipped from her throat as Berith let her shoulder collide down into the cold stone of the Reach's high cliffs, collapsing languidly at the cusp of the rock. Carmine eyes alit with glow and without pupil seemed dazed despite so, staring off into the dusk kissed expanse without a care for her current precarious placement. A carpet of sanguine hair cascaded across the cobble as she let her head loll. How can someplace like this be so boring... she moaned, her visage canting to glance down towards the bright seam of citrine jutting through the landscape. Even the closest thing to hell here had proven rather fruitless... How could that even be?

With a sigh she rolled further to her side, long feminine legs swimming through the air with grace rather than the awkwardness known to equine. If only someone interesting came along... she murmured, withers and rump against the jagged stones until she collapsed away from the ledge and back towards the interior of the mountain. Her dark eyes examined the passage with disdain - the chipped and forgotten flagstone, the tall spires with their runic etchings that sometimes seemed to glow a faint teal out of her peripheral. Abandoned homes - or at least, vacant ones - sat so quiet along the road that they were almost like graves themselves rather than shelter for the ghouls residing here. She hadn't picked one herself. None seemed fitting enough. That, and, well... she never really cared to have her own.

Another sigh losed through her lips as she shook her head, the avian skull jewelry clamped around her jet horns swinging like a pendalum besides her tear stained face. If only Draevan was here... He'd at least be able to keep me company.

[Image: 33232900_1HRflvtuhEFc8mq.png]
lovely eyed, death touched

Whispers/Quiet Talking
Outward/Louder Talking
]]>


A mewling sound slipped from her throat as Berith let her shoulder collide down into the cold stone of the Reach's high cliffs, collapsing languidly at the cusp of the rock. Carmine eyes alit with glow and without pupil seemed dazed despite so, staring off into the dusk kissed expanse without a care for her current precarious placement. A carpet of sanguine hair cascaded across the cobble as she let her head loll. How can someplace like this be so boring... she moaned, her visage canting to glance down towards the bright seam of citrine jutting through the landscape. Even the closest thing to hell here had proven rather fruitless... How could that even be?

With a sigh she rolled further to her side, long feminine legs swimming through the air with grace rather than the awkwardness known to equine. If only someone interesting came along... she murmured, withers and rump against the jagged stones until she collapsed away from the ledge and back towards the interior of the mountain. Her dark eyes examined the passage with disdain - the chipped and forgotten flagstone, the tall spires with their runic etchings that sometimes seemed to glow a faint teal out of her peripheral. Abandoned homes - or at least, vacant ones - sat so quiet along the road that they were almost like graves themselves rather than shelter for the ghouls residing here. She hadn't picked one herself. None seemed fitting enough. That, and, well... she never really cared to have her own.

Another sigh losed through her lips as she shook her head, the avian skull jewelry clamped around her jet horns swinging like a pendalum besides her tear stained face. If only Draevan was here... He'd at least be able to keep me company.

[Image: 33232900_1HRflvtuhEFc8mq.png]
lovely eyed, death touched

Whispers/Quiet Talking
Outward/Louder Talking
]]> <![CDATA[This IS my hell]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=492 Sun, 05 May 2024 16:44:06 -0500 Everett]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=492

“My armor is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!”


He hated the water. Yet that was how he was introduced to his world. Not as a babe from its mother but just a drowning soul. Everett could not recall his death but he knew he was dead. The grip it held on him was still around his neck and he could not shake it. He had so many questions but dare not speak them. He could tell this was a world of its own and he would rather not take part in it. However the boy did hold onto some hope. His mother could be here or even the dragons he was raised by. As he grew without them, he missed them. Even if it caused him to grow into the body of a feral beast. Once among what one would could "civil" kind he learned a thing or two and survived among them. Yet he never felt comfortable. Even now, he was struggling to be in the crowd of ghost. They seemed to know who they were and what they were doing but he had no idea. Just that for now he was away from the danger that caused his death. Which the idea of made him roll his eyes. He was not one to fear anything. So why did this shadow he felt gave him the chills? "What now?" He grumbled under his breath. The dragon in him showing as he bit his lip.

He thought of taking flight but he felt like there was not enough space. His wings were tucked into his side tightly and he dare not move. He could see the skies but they felt out of reach.
]]>

“My armor is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!”


He hated the water. Yet that was how he was introduced to his world. Not as a babe from its mother but just a drowning soul. Everett could not recall his death but he knew he was dead. The grip it held on him was still around his neck and he could not shake it. He had so many questions but dare not speak them. He could tell this was a world of its own and he would rather not take part in it. However the boy did hold onto some hope. His mother could be here or even the dragons he was raised by. As he grew without them, he missed them. Even if it caused him to grow into the body of a feral beast. Once among what one would could "civil" kind he learned a thing or two and survived among them. Yet he never felt comfortable. Even now, he was struggling to be in the crowd of ghost. They seemed to know who they were and what they were doing but he had no idea. Just that for now he was away from the danger that caused his death. Which the idea of made him roll his eyes. He was not one to fear anything. So why did this shadow he felt gave him the chills? "What now?" He grumbled under his breath. The dragon in him showing as he bit his lip.

He thought of taking flight but he felt like there was not enough space. His wings were tucked into his side tightly and he dare not move. He could see the skies but they felt out of reach.
]]> <![CDATA[fall with me to death again]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=474 Thu, 15 Feb 2024 14:26:25 -0600 Val Hazak]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=474

VAL HAZAK

Time couldn't be trusted here. There were moments where it seemed that he had spent an eternity under the eternal dusk while others he felt nothing more than a foal upon wobbly legs just trying to understand and comprehend the world around him. It was always new, always familiar, always foreign, always the same. It was a boon.

But also a curse.

Spending his time much like he usually did after relinquished from life, Val Hazak stood on a cragged precipice of obsidian slate. His carmine eyes bore out towards the colors of sunset, the purples, pinks, yellows, and oranges, content to live in the serenity that the painted horizon brought. Greedily he studied the colors, so beautiful now in comparison to the darkness he had survived... or, had he? His nostrils flared at the thought, a twitch tugging at the thin, delicate skin below his eye. Not survived. He hadn't survived the Rot. It had taken him, corrupted him to the very core, and he had been nothing but a puppet. Not just a puppet, but an instrument of war, but one used against his own rather for for them.

His audits fell back into his skull as he tried to shoo away the oncoming memories, as they often only beget sorrow. He did not wish to spend any more of his conscious time on the terrors of the past. He had been spared, unhooked from the claws of an evil he knew far too intimately.

She had saved him.

With a snap his head rose, his ears shot forward. Wini. She had been the one who had ultimately shoved him from the balcony, tore him down from his Seat and unfurled that wretched evil from his soul. His breath caught and his stomach turned into knots. An unseen force grabbed at his face and turned it towards the black shores of angry salt spray. When he had come here, that was where he had been spit out to freedom, where he had risen after his fall as a man unshackled. Others had mentioned that they too had surfaced from those waves, everyone had a story about them. If there was even a chance she did not survive the fall, would she be there?


The coastline was steely, cold, and uninviting. It was exactly what one may expect from a purgatory or world between worlds. Even now as he stood atop the bluffs looking down, watching as bodies were thrown mercilessly upon the shore, he felt the frigid chill of the waters. If he hadn't known any better, he'd say that the ocean was sentient, some primordial being, and it had stretched up to grab him with a ghostly, cold claw. His cream banner flicked to physically shoo the sinking discomfort. He wasn't here to debate the existence of some sort of ancient god. Rather, he needed his wits about him, his senses sharpened, to see if she emerged from the waters or walked the beach.

img by timothy eberly | bust by posy-punch
]]>

VAL HAZAK

Time couldn't be trusted here. There were moments where it seemed that he had spent an eternity under the eternal dusk while others he felt nothing more than a foal upon wobbly legs just trying to understand and comprehend the world around him. It was always new, always familiar, always foreign, always the same. It was a boon.

But also a curse.

Spending his time much like he usually did after relinquished from life, Val Hazak stood on a cragged precipice of obsidian slate. His carmine eyes bore out towards the colors of sunset, the purples, pinks, yellows, and oranges, content to live in the serenity that the painted horizon brought. Greedily he studied the colors, so beautiful now in comparison to the darkness he had survived... or, had he? His nostrils flared at the thought, a twitch tugging at the thin, delicate skin below his eye. Not survived. He hadn't survived the Rot. It had taken him, corrupted him to the very core, and he had been nothing but a puppet. Not just a puppet, but an instrument of war, but one used against his own rather for for them.

His audits fell back into his skull as he tried to shoo away the oncoming memories, as they often only beget sorrow. He did not wish to spend any more of his conscious time on the terrors of the past. He had been spared, unhooked from the claws of an evil he knew far too intimately.

She had saved him.

With a snap his head rose, his ears shot forward. Wini. She had been the one who had ultimately shoved him from the balcony, tore him down from his Seat and unfurled that wretched evil from his soul. His breath caught and his stomach turned into knots. An unseen force grabbed at his face and turned it towards the black shores of angry salt spray. When he had come here, that was where he had been spit out to freedom, where he had risen after his fall as a man unshackled. Others had mentioned that they too had surfaced from those waves, everyone had a story about them. If there was even a chance she did not survive the fall, would she be there?


The coastline was steely, cold, and uninviting. It was exactly what one may expect from a purgatory or world between worlds. Even now as he stood atop the bluffs looking down, watching as bodies were thrown mercilessly upon the shore, he felt the frigid chill of the waters. If he hadn't known any better, he'd say that the ocean was sentient, some primordial being, and it had stretched up to grab him with a ghostly, cold claw. His cream banner flicked to physically shoo the sinking discomfort. He wasn't here to debate the existence of some sort of ancient god. Rather, he needed his wits about him, his senses sharpened, to see if she emerged from the waters or walked the beach.

img by timothy eberly | bust by posy-punch
]]> <![CDATA[Strange things did happen here (Ethereal Reach)]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=382 Wed, 02 Aug 2023 08:51:22 -0500 Dušan]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=382


He felt alive again despite knowing he was dead. However this world was not the one to came from and he was curious what his purpose would be here. When he was summoned, it was revenge. They killed the wrong witch. For many years he was trapped. Forced to consume the souls that were hung from his tree. He was no judge but that was just the way of things. Until, they killed the wrong witch. Many of lovers dead at his roots. This time it was the wrong one. A powerful being they had no idea. Until he was brought to life. You could call him a demon but he only had one name, Dušan. Their blood and anger fueled him. Yet it was the body he possess that held him together. Together they made them all pay.

However, power and revenge had it cost. By day he was a different body and then a night something you could call normal. More fitting for the world. Yet he was all one being. Dušan didn't complain, he loves himself and the chaos he caused. One by one they all suffered. He would have his blood. They thought they were clever. Burning down the woods. That was their first try but it was not until they trapped in and held him for many days did they figure it out. Not he was here, a new world but no purpose. He have to understand, wondering around was not his thing. At least for now, night took hold.

Dušan


]]>


He felt alive again despite knowing he was dead. However this world was not the one to came from and he was curious what his purpose would be here. When he was summoned, it was revenge. They killed the wrong witch. For many years he was trapped. Forced to consume the souls that were hung from his tree. He was no judge but that was just the way of things. Until, they killed the wrong witch. Many of lovers dead at his roots. This time it was the wrong one. A powerful being they had no idea. Until he was brought to life. You could call him a demon but he only had one name, Dušan. Their blood and anger fueled him. Yet it was the body he possess that held him together. Together they made them all pay.

However, power and revenge had it cost. By day he was a different body and then a night something you could call normal. More fitting for the world. Yet he was all one being. Dušan didn't complain, he loves himself and the chaos he caused. One by one they all suffered. He would have his blood. They thought they were clever. Burning down the woods. That was their first try but it was not until they trapped in and held him for many days did they figure it out. Not he was here, a new world but no purpose. He have to understand, wondering around was not his thing. At least for now, night took hold.

Dušan


]]> <![CDATA[New lands old paterns]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=346 Mon, 05 Jun 2023 06:46:49 -0500 Dalia]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=346 <![CDATA[the darkest knight still turns to day (Ethereal Reach)]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=305 Tue, 23 May 2023 16:24:54 -0500 Val Hazak]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=305

VAL HAZAK


It was so similar.

Similar to his time as the King of Rot.

He only ventured close enough to witness a blue-eyed drake circle overhead, a slow and steady watch where he refused to waver. Val Hazak's crimson eyes, weeping their blood tears, squinted into the harsher light of the sky - almost red, like the pit - at the beast. Others lingered, flew overhead, those that ventured too close found themselves shooed by a shrieking bellow of the mighty dragon as it relentlessly monitored. Something was wrong with this hellish pit. He'd only been here for what felt like a fraction of time and already darkness was settling into the otherwise neutral, placid afterlife. What stubs were left of his wings rotating, bones cracking with ill-use, as he adjusted his stance upon the cliff. From this vantage, he could see it all. The tear in the black stone of the Reach, a seeping wound that bleed fire's orange, and smelled of dragon's nests and dens.

It wasn't the visuals that perturbed Hazak. Rather, it was the feeling in his vulnerable, gaping chest. Something wasn't right. The air was hot and humid even from his distance and carried with it was a sinister aura. It seemed to go unseen by their eyes, a slinking, invisible stalker that seeped into the very core of the wastelands. Like an infection, it burned out the hosts.

Elongated harks fell into his tawny mane as his visage lowered from its low investigative sniffing and a purposeful snort banished the ick that threatened to cling there. No... this was not good. All his time as a puppet to evil had taught him only one thing: how to feel the evil in the world. Whatever resided within he hellfire cracks - where cries and screams echoed - it would be of no benefit to them. Val Hazak felt himself fill with trepidation, his heart sputtering, his nerves twitchy, and his pelt on end to the sky.

It was so similar.

img by timothy eberly | bust by posy-punch
]]>

VAL HAZAK


It was so similar.

Similar to his time as the King of Rot.

He only ventured close enough to witness a blue-eyed drake circle overhead, a slow and steady watch where he refused to waver. Val Hazak's crimson eyes, weeping their blood tears, squinted into the harsher light of the sky - almost red, like the pit - at the beast. Others lingered, flew overhead, those that ventured too close found themselves shooed by a shrieking bellow of the mighty dragon as it relentlessly monitored. Something was wrong with this hellish pit. He'd only been here for what felt like a fraction of time and already darkness was settling into the otherwise neutral, placid afterlife. What stubs were left of his wings rotating, bones cracking with ill-use, as he adjusted his stance upon the cliff. From this vantage, he could see it all. The tear in the black stone of the Reach, a seeping wound that bleed fire's orange, and smelled of dragon's nests and dens.

It wasn't the visuals that perturbed Hazak. Rather, it was the feeling in his vulnerable, gaping chest. Something wasn't right. The air was hot and humid even from his distance and carried with it was a sinister aura. It seemed to go unseen by their eyes, a slinking, invisible stalker that seeped into the very core of the wastelands. Like an infection, it burned out the hosts.

Elongated harks fell into his tawny mane as his visage lowered from its low investigative sniffing and a purposeful snort banished the ick that threatened to cling there. No... this was not good. All his time as a puppet to evil had taught him only one thing: how to feel the evil in the world. Whatever resided within he hellfire cracks - where cries and screams echoed - it would be of no benefit to them. Val Hazak felt himself fill with trepidation, his heart sputtering, his nerves twitchy, and his pelt on end to the sky.

It was so similar.

img by timothy eberly | bust by posy-punch
]]> <![CDATA[the light of the forsaken]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=288 Sat, 20 May 2023 10:06:32 -0500 Thuri Modeus Dragonblüd]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=288

i am fire, i forge myself


It was another "normal" day, whatever that meant here in this desolate place. Without any drink to be found, Thuri took to the pass time he often wandered to whilst under the influence anyway; staring off into vistas. Sure, he could go back to the mines he'd found, try and form the stone a bit more so that it was actually a mine, but what was work without the reprieve of rest. Albeit, boring rest.

The draconic stallion lingered on a cliff edge, closer than some may find comfortable, without seemingly a worry. Deadpan, almost downtrodden, he stared into periwinkle, plum, and coral sky. He found the colors soothing. They whispered of the dark, much like he found in the caves, and imitated softer hues in flames. Perhaps he'd even fall asleep here, cocking a hip and letting his wings droop to the cobble. As his lids grew heavy, and he truly thought that he may slumber, a cacophony of screams, twisted, tormented, and tortured, roared from an unseen source. Thuri lurched back, a curse on his lips, with a defensive sweep of his wings to shoo any corporeal foe. The howling cries rang in his ears so that his audits pinned into his plaited mane, and as soon as he thought it was over, a fluke, the group shook.

Rock below his hooves crumbled and cracked, and with little debate he jumped from his high perch and rode upon the air currents racing from the depths of the reach. There, he saw something familiar to him, a friend perhaps, a coworker in his craft, but felt no kinship. Burning flames erupted from a splitting seam in the rocks, expelling the putrid stench of sulfur and rot. Thuri's nostrils wrinkled and he loosed a snort, even from so far and so high, the odor was offensive.

As he glided down the lonely mountain, down towards the now smoldering, flame-sputtering wound in the realm, his mind ached with sudden anxiety.

In his mind's eye he clearly saw the grey mare Abdullah, the woman he had known but was unsure how, felt protective over during their time with the explosion of magic. It was simply her smiling face, her warm touch upon his own, and quiet, soft nights.

He loosed another audible curse, volcanic eyes dropping to the barren wastelands of the Reach. Was she safe?

img by maxkuk | bust by franknsteins
]]>

i am fire, i forge myself


It was another "normal" day, whatever that meant here in this desolate place. Without any drink to be found, Thuri took to the pass time he often wandered to whilst under the influence anyway; staring off into vistas. Sure, he could go back to the mines he'd found, try and form the stone a bit more so that it was actually a mine, but what was work without the reprieve of rest. Albeit, boring rest.

The draconic stallion lingered on a cliff edge, closer than some may find comfortable, without seemingly a worry. Deadpan, almost downtrodden, he stared into periwinkle, plum, and coral sky. He found the colors soothing. They whispered of the dark, much like he found in the caves, and imitated softer hues in flames. Perhaps he'd even fall asleep here, cocking a hip and letting his wings droop to the cobble. As his lids grew heavy, and he truly thought that he may slumber, a cacophony of screams, twisted, tormented, and tortured, roared from an unseen source. Thuri lurched back, a curse on his lips, with a defensive sweep of his wings to shoo any corporeal foe. The howling cries rang in his ears so that his audits pinned into his plaited mane, and as soon as he thought it was over, a fluke, the group shook.

Rock below his hooves crumbled and cracked, and with little debate he jumped from his high perch and rode upon the air currents racing from the depths of the reach. There, he saw something familiar to him, a friend perhaps, a coworker in his craft, but felt no kinship. Burning flames erupted from a splitting seam in the rocks, expelling the putrid stench of sulfur and rot. Thuri's nostrils wrinkled and he loosed a snort, even from so far and so high, the odor was offensive.

As he glided down the lonely mountain, down towards the now smoldering, flame-sputtering wound in the realm, his mind ached with sudden anxiety.

In his mind's eye he clearly saw the grey mare Abdullah, the woman he had known but was unsure how, felt protective over during their time with the explosion of magic. It was simply her smiling face, her warm touch upon his own, and quiet, soft nights.

He loosed another audible curse, volcanic eyes dropping to the barren wastelands of the Reach. Was she safe?

img by maxkuk | bust by franknsteins
]]> <![CDATA[Separate Ways - open]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=243 Fri, 07 Apr 2023 18:32:23 -0500 Annith Anemone]]> https://equus-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=243
Taking a deep breath, she could take this as a new chance at life. Maybe find her purpose. She was not in a rush to find her brother but the truth was she did not know where to start. New place, new ways to learn. Hopefully the locals were not hostile. Annith had dealt with that before and she was not about to deal with that again. Which if she was honest, the mare never had the best luck. Stretching out he wings, Annith shook her head and sighed. She didn't like the unknown.]]>
Taking a deep breath, she could take this as a new chance at life. Maybe find her purpose. She was not in a rush to find her brother but the truth was she did not know where to start. New place, new ways to learn. Hopefully the locals were not hostile. Annith had dealt with that before and she was not about to deal with that again. Which if she was honest, the mare never had the best luck. Stretching out he wings, Annith shook her head and sighed. She didn't like the unknown.]]>