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Post by ponybones on Dec 1, 2014 14:22:35 GMT -5
What I'm Looking For
The winners of the spars had been sorted and found, it had been decided who was going to die for their herd and who would watch from the sidelines, perhaps surviving the ordeal while the rest perished beneath barbarian bachelor hooves, torn apart by faithless exiled teeth. Perhaps out of a desire to preserve his young queen, Vasska had chosen Obscura to be a helper, a horse that would aid those fighting in times of great peril. Whether it was a good choice, Obscura couldn't say. Bloom had more practical knowledge, Obscura merely had an eerie calm that perhaps could help soothe those that were fallen. Bloom is of utmost importance. You are merely a vessel, carrying the Unicorn's visions of the future into the present. Your necessity is as far as they are willing to have you. Obscura thought as she made her way to the Summer Fields with the rest, looking around for any of her friends from the the herd. Who would be risking their lives?
She nudged her tiara with a knee, making sure it was still there, entangled in her mass of curly blackish brown mane. No, it wouldn't come free without a lot of undue force, that was for sure. Where was her new husband anyway? Surely he had the skill at arms to make it to the battle, but everything started happening too quickly. Suddenly there was a flood of horses, both those she recognized and those she didn't, surging around her like a raging river in which she couldn't move. There was something disturbingly beautiful about the passion from both sides that drew her in, left her standing there with her weak eyes searching the darkness and her ears flicking instinctively to the sounds of jaws snapping and hooves landing all around her. Rain started to drip onto her nose, wetting her fur, sending a shiver down her spine. Where was she?
Then she heard a cry for help. Her eyes opened again - had she fallen asleep? It wouldn't have been surprising. But there it was again. Completely blinded in the dark, more-so than the average horse whose pupils could at least react to the lack of light, she had to trust her ears to guide her. It was no familiar voice, that was for sure. A bachelor or an exile - it must be. Obscura thought, causing her muscles to tighten and hesitate. That was no concern of hers. Her head turned away, but the cries of pain were intense and dire, causing her morbid curiosity to spring into action, luring her. There are exiles on our side, however if this is one, that means the unicorns have cast him down anyway...as per Vasska's speech, it would mean I should leave him be. The unicorns willed it, and thus it is so. She thought, however her hooves were already moving toward the voice, the cries beckoning to her like a siren to a sailor, willing her to crash on the jagged rocks of his pain. Her ears pricked, she let her eyes fall closed again, useless as they were.
Word Count:// 530 |
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wildstarchaser
Newcomer
friendships cease, no peace in the mind; stealin' and takin' anything to fix the pieces inside.
Posts: 18 
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Post by wildstarchaser on Dec 3, 2014 7:04:59 GMT -5
(oh dear sorry for the delay!)
S T O R M C R Y | Exile Herd Mare | Guard
A steady rain had begun to fall from the swollen, puffy clouds that had swamped the sky from some time earlier, heavy enough to soak the dark mark to her her bones through her parchment thin skin but annoyingly light enough that she rather felt uncomfortably damp instead of refreshed by the persistent downpour. Tendrils of her nearly matted mane- what remained after she had lain waste to it with a dull blade- clung slickly to her coat and fell sloppily across her face in the dankly early hours of the morning as she stood, a stone statue on guard. It was peaceful, in a way; soft, muted almost, with a clean scent invading her nostrils and dust long caked on swept away down her sides to the ground by the teardrops of the sky, almost as if were grieving as she was for the losses that were sure to come for both sides of the brutal fight. There would be no rules there; only blood and death. Sorrow. Families, broken up. And for what? The pride of some fickle old king, or the bloodlust of the vicious Bachelors? A tremor flicked through her skin with anticipation and anxiety; she could only hope that Prophet could hold his own, and that the mares of Olde who chose not to fight would look after Kale and ensure his safety.
A far off buzz of noise tugged her from her still, silent vigil, and she lifted her head, muscles stiff and joints creaking from remaining still for so long. What? Again. A frown creasing her face, she strained her ears to catch the cry, and tensed as it came again, begging it seemed, for help in its sharp, taut tones. A horse, wailing in pain, was enough to nearly send her into a rush toward it with a want to help; yet, her hooves remained rooted to the ground. She couldn't. Couldn't leave her task that she had left her own herd to do, abandon these young ones and sickly horses even if she was just gone shortly. She would not.
The wail came again. No.
Again. Eerily familiar this time...She could have sworn she'd heard it somewhere before- No.
No, no, no-
"Agh, blast it!" She cursed harshly under her breath, vocals rasping and gritty with disuse and past smoke inhalation that refused to remove its poison from her lungs as she shuffled her feet in a quick stretch and glanced back at the mostly sleeping forms before flinging herself into a rapid gallop toward the continuous sound. She must be swift.
(432)
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Post by ponybones on Dec 5, 2014 12:00:29 GMT -5
((It's going to be like that for me too. ;^; I work all of my life and they don't want me on here))
I shouldn't... Obscura thought to herself as she narrowly avoided another fighting pair, moving her hips out of the way just in time as one stallion shoved another into the grass. She was thankful that she didn't have to be involved in that part - she would have gotten herself killed within minutes, she imagined, and she doubted she was very useful to anyone dead. But was she useful to anyone as she was now - that was another question. Bloom had tried her hardest to teach her some things about medicinal herbs, how to heal when there wasn't much to be had, though Obscura found herself at a loss digging through her old memories. The only thing that truly stuck was the lore, the knowledge of old battles fought and won, and how they survived through it. Hopefully she would at least be able to repeat that past.
The cries were getting louder, what sounded to be a stallion had to of been in excruciating pain, and her curiosity only became fiercer for the fact. Obscura wasn't shy about her morbidity - no, she was curious to the point of being disturbing to others, though she didn't fully realize it. Was she going just to know, or was she going to help? Even that was unclear to her. Until she felt someone else, what smelled like a mare, dash by her with serious intent. A Bachelor mare? She couldn't be sure, but the other horse was indeed running fast in the direction of the wounded. "What if he was on our side and it's a bachelor mare sent to finish the job?" Obscura wondered with a shudder. If that theory was the correct one, that would leave the stallion pleading for help an Exile, and one fighting for Olde. However strict Vasska had been about his orders, Obscura had never been one to support undue suffering.
Finally she opened her eyes again, though it was as useless as she imagined it would be in the dark pre-dawn night with the rain spattering down. Finding the other's hoofprints, she picked up the pace and blindly ran after them in the same direction, hoping at least to catch up to the mare and stop her before she did anything rash.
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Meanwhile, Naphtali lay there breathing heavily, a sharpened pine bough through his gut, arterial blood pumping out to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Where were these helpful mares that the Bachelor herd had? Where was the one with silver hair?
Word Count:// 439
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wildstarchaser
Newcomer
friendships cease, no peace in the mind; stealin' and takin' anything to fix the pieces inside.
Posts: 18
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Post by wildstarchaser on Dec 9, 2014 8:04:50 GMT -5
S T O R M C R Y | Exile Herd Mare | Guard
Nose out and thick tail blown out behind her in a knotted plume, the dark mare grit her teeth the closer she drew to the cries that were decreasing in volume rapidly, as though the owner of such sorrowful sounds was beginning to give up hope. The long grass tugged at her legs in resistant tangles as she ran through the gently rolling slopes of landscape, thudding out a steady rhythm of footsteps. At last, after what seemed to be decades of time, sluggishly slow in her rush of movement, she descended upon her destination, eyes widening in silent horror at what greeted her. She stood for a moment, frozen with her mouth clamped shut while her lungs wailed for air, simply staring at the sight before her.
The young stallion's fiery bulk lay strewn out like a haphazardly tossed ragdoll, limbs carelessly arranged and terrifyingly still. Blood glistened from a horrifying puncture in his abdomen, oozing out in weak bursts into the ground, eerie in the watery moonlight as it mixed and lost its potency in the rainwater. At last, her lungs forced her to take a gulping breath, pulling her back to reality as though she had been tugged from deep water. Her brain scrambled frantically, and she rushed forward, movements clumsy in her shock.
"Naphtali! Naphtali!" Stormcry cried urgently as she skidded to a stop beside his agonized form. Was he even still alive...? Softly, she pressed her head to his muzzle, hoping to feel his exhale of breath, and- yes, there is was. He was alive. Alive.
But for how much longer? How much longer until his young life ebbs out into the dirt like his blood is doing right now? How long until his body is cold as ice? How long? How long, how long-
"Focus." She forced herself to say, silencing her frantic thoughts- for the time being, anyway. She was here now. She could save him. She would. Carefully, she assessed the wound as not to accidentally make it worse. She should not remove the pine, yet- then there would be nothing to stop his blood from emptying out of his body easy as water down a river. She would need to find something to replace it first- but what? Bulrush cotton, perhaps?
(380 words)
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Post by ponybones on Dec 10, 2014 13:05:26 GMT -5
Those were not the cries of someone who was going to kill another - no they were cries of horror for nothing else could be said. Obscura paused, wondering if she could get involved as she finally neared the scene, her eyes starting to pick up the muted tones of red from the horse lying on the ground, silver mane strewn under him as he failed to respond to the urging of the mare that ran past her. The smell of blood was pungent around him, and as she crept a bit closer, she could see the crude spear sticking out from his belly. It was unclear whether it was driven there, or he happened to fall in the wrong place, as it looked as though the 'weapon' was firmly rooted to the ground. Rumors of the Bachelor King's own devious contraptions told her that this might have been his doing, and the stallion had not maneuvered quick enough to avoid it.
In her mind's eye, she tried to see the Exiles that had joined the Olde side, but they were all a blur of faces she could not recognize. It was no use. She had to come to a moral decision on her own. "Here" Obscura whispered, kneeling down next to the other horse, shaking her head vigorously and pawing at her head to free the tiara. The thick lace would have to do for now, she thought, as the metal dropped onto the unconscious stallion's side. "If we both roll him off of it, one of us can shove this into his wound directly after." Obscura suggested, looking at the strange mare, a touch of determination in her face. While the Unicorns would favor their blessed herd, Obscura doubted they would support the unnecessary suffering of any horse, even if it was an Exile. With the lace of her wedding tiara poised for immediate insertion into the wound, Obscura broke off as much of the pine that was sticking out as possible, so the two wouldn't have to lift the dead weight of their fellow horse too much. She put her legs against him and knelt a bit to use her head as leverage, it was all she could figure. "Are you ready, exile?"
Word Count:// 376
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