The Lost Islands
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Your King
Asmodeus
Your Queen
Nyimara
The Second
None
The Herd
Name, Name, Name
The Sub-Herd
Name, Name, Name
Allies
Name (Land)
Enemies
Solomon (Cove)
The Rules
  • There will be no fraternizing with enemies. If you put yourself knowingly in danger, don't expect a rescue.
  • We are only as strong as our weakest link. See to it that you are getting stronger in some skill that is useful, whether it is battling, recruiting, charming, etc.
  • The King and Queen have final say in all matters.
In the throws of chaos there is always a victor;
Posted on May 5, 2020 at 02:03:11 AM by Harlequin

Harlequin did not take her newfound position lightly. Day in and day out she found herself tiptoing through the soft sanded dunes with her neck bent low and muzzle lingering above the sands. Unlike the frigid permafrost of the bay, the new scents of passing equine and other creatures that called the deserts home lingered upon the sands for a short time before the dry zephyrs billowed them away in the ever rolling dunes. She had found many a creature to pique her interest in the desert, her favorite of which had quickly become the large eared foxes that ducked in and out of bristled shrubs. At first she had given them a wide birth, the image of their white furred cousins picking clean a deer carcass on Tinuvel still firmly ingrained in her mind. However the longer she watched them, the more curious she became. They darted here and there beneath what shade could be found, burrowing under rocks and pouncing on insects, lizards and the likes.

For a time, the small creatures caught up her attention and drew her away from her task at hand... That is until the familiar tang of blood wafted to her flared nostrils. Ears fall backwards into the thick black tendrils of her mane as instinctively she snaps her head up to catch the breeze. Muscles tense beneath her flesh as the screams of war pierce the silence that surrounds her with suffocating thickness. Cain.

Immediately she is in motion, her low swinging belly moving like a pendulum in time with the rhythm of her gait. Ivory teeth gnash behind her jaws as she slows her pace to a calculated jog. She knew it would do her no good to arrive into battle winded and despite the pleasure she felt in her initial coupling with Cain, her pregnant belly would hinder her if she was not careful.

She crests a hillock and peers down upon the reminants of a battlefield. All around the hard earth shows scars of the fight. Dark red pools of blood leave splattered paths over stone and rock. Nostrils quiver as she draws her gaze to a large scrawny brown pelt trampled in the dust. Her muzzle curls upwards into a snarl. Wolf.

Her gaze drifts beyond the still form to another this one larger. The form of a horse. Zubeia. A flash of sorrow crosses her dark gaze at the pain etched on Cain's face. Nearby Geneva stands, two newborn foals nursing at her side. There is a pale stallion near her, one that she had only observed from a distance but not dared to approach. Vaguely she recalled something about a second. A single dial tilts towards him now as slowly she brings her tense figure to a halt a short distance away. Tentatively she glances at Geneva in question before turning back to watch Cain, the delicate curves of her face devoid of emotion. Silence. She knows not the words to say... But she could be there nonetheless.

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