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| don't ask questions, they get you killed; falx claims | open topic | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 20 2015, 10:32 PM (246 Views) | |
| kimmys | Jul 20 2015, 10:32 PM Post #1 |
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![]() [justify=500]He shouldn't be surprised, really. It was only a matter of time before the vultures descended on the wasteland that was Necromancer Sector. Nothing about this land was inviting - no lush greenery, no pretty landscapes, no well-known past or easy to get to treasures. But now there was death here. Death and the Necromancer herself, and that, apparently was enough to draw in the macabre sort. Nearly four years since he had last stepped foot on the barren wasteland of the Sector, he did so again with a bittersweet feeling of coming home. Despite the fading aroma of another stallion, everything looked pretty much the same. A few new paths had been trodden by feet that did not grow up on this consecrated soil, perhaps, but that was largely the extent of change that he could see in the brief moments before the Necromancer welcomed her newest prodigal with open arms. Bright light coalesced in front of his eyes and clung vaguely to an equine-like shape. The spectral figure stayed probably ten feet out in front of him, but the pressure of a herd of invisible horses pressed around him in a welcoming tangle that was overwhelming but brief. As they dissipated, a grin of roguish charm spread across his charcoal lips. "Wow, I think that's the warmest reception anyone's received, ever." Falx spoke quietly, knowing that he need not even really speak at all. "Riddle me this, though. Why is it I come home to someone else's stench all over my family's land?" The cadence of his voice doesn't change as he asks the question, although his brow knits together and lips tighten afterward. Falx had not been old enough when he and Cancer and Switchblade had left the Sector to pursue more victims, but the assumption had been that upon their return, Falx would take over, because both Cancer and Falx had known that it was only a matter of time until Switchblade got too over eager and got himself killed. Which is exactly what had happened. Falx, however, does not let his attention stray to such memories. They were unimportant. Food. She answers simply, her voice echoing in his head. He brought scraps when you were feeding us nothing, which, I might remind you, is not the bargain we struck with him. He needs- "I am not Cancer. And I do not answer to him." He cuts her off coolly, then silently raises his brow, mentally referring back to his earlier question then segue ways into the unspoken question regarding how much this stranger knew about the land and it's history. Nothing of importance. We didn't reveal ourselves, although we've whispered suggestions to him. Highly suggestible sort, that one. Once I knew you were coming home, we encouraged him to move along to the Eye. Mentally Falx conjures up the vision of shifting lines and voices in front of him, inquiring whether he'd ever "seen" the Necromancer. No, of course not. Largely relieved at this settling of news, the bay sabino relaxes, jutting one hip out and regarding her calmly. "I didn't think I would miss this place as much as I have, but it's got it's own unique charm." The Necromancer ignores him, pressing her own questions and then not waiting for answers, choosing instead to flip through Falx's memories, a sensation that was disorienting and uncomfortable, though he only grits his teeth and remains silent through the duration. She looked for Cancer - his whereabouts, his actions, his plans. And pulled out, satisfied. The stallion shook his head to clear it of the sensation, then raised a cheek for a disembodied brush of a muzzle as the apparition suddenly vanished, leaving the sabino alone with his home.[/justify] |
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| `Scoot | Jul 24 2015, 10:55 PM Post #2 |
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"She has duct tape and chloroform and a map to your house in the back seat of her car. I thought that was a bit strange..."
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![]() [justify=500] ..::: /\/\ i r a m i s ....................... s i m a r i /\/\ :::.. This territory unnerved her. Even in spite of her poor memory, she knew enough to understand that something was amiss here in ways that meant nothing good for her. Alas, she had traveled across the shallow oceans until she struck land, and it wasn't until she had ventured into the center of the territory that she realized where she was. There were evils here, and she was in no condition to play hostess to the Haunts she sensed swirling endlessly through the hazy air. "You forget your place, ingénue," came the whispers, and Miramis' ears swept backwards and her neck straightened at the sounds. The small dappled mare swished her tail and snorted now, empowered by the rude gestures of the spirits around her. Suddenly her fears had morphed into a challenge of the utmost extreme, and the striped hooves shuffled into a position that allowed her to stand firm. "Funny you should use such terminology," the young mare grinned, tilting her head slightly to one side as though raising an eyebrow, even though there were no visible entities in her vicinity. "I remember precious little of my history. Perhaps you could enlighten me. If not, I will merely be passing through." The words were uttered with an alien confidence and a sickening politeness, and it made the spirits churn. "The Sector awards nothing to no one, and especially not such a gift as safe passage!" they hissed, tousling her lengthy mane and tail. When her tail fell back to the ground, she looked around at the site of it in irritation and then pinned her ears. Evidently, any further niceties on her part would not be well received on theirs. "Tell me of this place. Does anyone live here?" she asked, genuinely curious and strangely rebellious. The spirits bristled yet again and swirled more violently through her mane and tail. "WE live here, foolish female!" Miramis grinned. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it? Now, what would you like in return for the information you have provided to me?" Enraged by her trickery, the Haunts slashed at her with all the power of the wind, but their non-physical forms prevented much of any potential damage. Proud of herself, Miramis stood her ground, waiting for the spirits to answer. OOC: Ruh-roh... [/justify] Edited by `Scoot, Jul 24 2015, 11:00 PM.
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| kimmys | Jul 24 2015, 11:21 PM Post #3 |
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![]() [justify=500]The void left after the Necromancer's departure was almost unnerving, and it took him a moment to puzzle why that was. The bay had lived most of his formative years within the barren wasteland that was Necromancer Sector and there was little the haunts could get up to that would surprise him, as growing up with them tended to give one a more thorough understanding of them, then did arriving here as an adult. Which, of course, in Falx's opinion, had been Sake's downfall. The old man hadn't had any idea what sort of being the Necromancer was, and had possessed little knowledge of how to deal with her, or really, any females in his life. Of course, it was mares, or rather, one mare in particular, that had ultimately lead to the Friesian's demise. The sabino shakes his head, relaxing into the peculiar feeling of being home, relishing in the familiarity of it. After a moment, the difference that was plaguing his mind finally hits him. The silence was deafening. The Sector was never silent, unless something fairly major was drawing the spirits to a central point. They were capable of spreading themselves across the land, tending to whatever nefarious deeds suited their purpose, but when drama happened, they tended to congregate, feeding off the energy expounding from that moment. And obviously, they expected no further drama from him. Amused, he snorts at this and picks up a powerful trot towards the center of the land, assuming that he'll be able to follow the pull of energy to it's source. In this, he is not disappointed. Whispers and the signature caged energy of the Sector's haunts draw him like a magnet towards a slender mare who was currently being buffeted by supernatural winds. From off to the side he observes as she shuffles to a firm stance and attempts to banter with the haunts, and not doing a bad job at it. Falx wasn't sure he'd ever seen any other creature outside of Cancer, Chronic, Blade and himself ever oppose them. And he'd be lying to himself if he didn't say that turned him on, just a little. From the sidelines he can feel the anger of the haunts surge at her insolence, and he decides that he needs to intervene, finding that it's actually a perfect time to do so anyway. He speaks calmly as he strides confidently forward, dark eyes bright with interest. "I do, actually. They tolerate my presence and allow me to lay claim here, as has been my family's right for years." Casually he comes to a halt some distance from her, his blood bay coat bright even in the overcast light provided. Almost nonchalantly he indicates the tormented winds swirling about them, just outside of their conversation and speaks in a conspiratorial, stage whisper. "Trust me though, dear, you don't want to be making bargains with them. They usually involve blood." Let her make assumptions about his family from that. Finished, he settles in, obviously at ease with the land and it's quirks, one hip tilting to rest. [/justify] |
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| `Scoot | Jul 26 2015, 02:03 PM Post #4 |
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"She has duct tape and chloroform and a map to your house in the back seat of her car. I thought that was a bit strange..."
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![]() [justify=500] ..::: /\/\ i r a m i s ....................... s i m a r i /\/\ :::.. As though drawn to the happenings by a sixth sense, another...more solid...presence appeared some distance away from Miramis' present location. She sensed the Haunts' frustration with her even more so now that the newcomer had arrived. He spoke over them, just as she had done, contradicting their claim to inhabitance and drawing a smirk to the very corners of her lips. Her eyes scanned over him briefly but, true to her nomadic nature, she was careful to remain visibly disinterested. The stallion's coloration was unique, to say the least. It wasn't overly loud, but neither was it plain. An image flashed through her mind of a similarly colored equine that her heart recognized, but her mind could not. A shake of her head followed and she stomped one striped hoof absently. When the newcomer spoke, this time at a level the Haunts would be hard-pressed to hear, Miramis sidestepped away from him and held her head high. "And what makes you think I have any problem shedding a few drops of blood in return for information from immortals?" she quipped, daring him to look down upon her again. "I'm sure their knowledge is much more worthwhile than yours. They've been around a bit longer than you have, after all. Unless, of course, there's something you're not telling me. I can't see through you though, nor are you floating, so from there I presume you are mortal. And one who is rather quick to jump to conclusions about others, at that." Miramis knew she was taking a risk in speaking so boldly to one whom she did not know, but if she had learned anything in her travels, it was that making oneself memorable could often lend itself to future assistance where needed. The spirits descended on her then, speaking directly to her soul so that none but her could hear. "Get a boy to like you, and he will answer your every beck and call," they taunted, dancing wildly 'round her form like fire around water. "Get this boy to like you, and we shall be in your debt." Suspicious, Miramis set her expression in a scowl and swished her tail, striking at the floating shadows as if they were flies. "And why, pray tell, should I even consider that?" the grey mare asked aloud, pinning her ears slightly. "I didn't come here to do your bidding. Frankly, I didn't even know I was coming here to begin with." Now the spirits chuckled, and they, too, spoke aloud this time. "But we did...." Full-blown laughter erupted from the mass of shadows, their frenzied, twitching movements dizzying her. She pinned her ears completely this time, thrusting out her lower lip in a slight pout, and chose not to acknowledge them this time. Letting the stallion take over from here seemed far more appealing an idea. [/justify] Edited by `Scoot, Jul 26 2015, 02:05 PM.
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| kimmys | Jul 26 2015, 03:29 PM Post #5 |
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![]() [justify=500]Falx was not a sheltered colt, but to imply that he was well versed in the arts of feminine wiles would be more of an overstatement. He'd had his share of flirtatious overtures with the gentler sex, but had never felt more than a passing interest in pretty faces. After watching his dam wither away, he'd sort of assumed that most mares were just pretty scenery. Perhaps Kaori had been slightly better, but she'd been putty in Blade's capable hooves and had borne Falx's half-sister without hesitation after arriving in the Sector. Thus, while he has every intention of peppering his land with a few mares, he was in no hurry and had extraordinarily low expectations of them as far as loyalty, brains, or usefulness was concerned. Her speech, therefore, has his brown eyes widening in a flash of surprise, and then his brow knits together in an indecipherable mix of annoyance and amusement. So defensive. Quickly regaining control of his features, he shifts his weight slightly backward, lengthy tail twitching briefly against his hocks as she continues, perhaps assuming that she's doing a good job of berating him. Nonplussed, but quickly growing tired of her company, he simply lets her continue, black-rimmed ears rotating to face backward, but not yet pinned. Finally she finishes, although he assumes by the fact that she seems to draw in a breath that she's only paused and has every intention of continuing and he opens his mouth to cut her off but gets distracted by the haunts. Hardly visible to the naked eye, he can nonetheless see a thickening of the air around the mare, as though the spirits are attempting some sort of trickery. Now growing more frustrated with the situation, he draws the most obvious conclusion that the haunts are attempting to use this mare for some sort of plan. And his assumption is given further credence by the mare's reply to their silent whispers. When they reply aloud, he is perhaps even more confused. Though he is used to their scheming and plotting, it has thus far failed to include him but he's gotten the very clear impression that they intend to include him in whatever they were planning. Silently, he reaches out to the Necromancer, inquiring as to what was going on, and receives nothing more than an invisible caress of his pale cheek and a visual flash of an unnamed mare and stallion in an embrace that was so brief he wasn't sure he'd actually seen it. Distracted, he manages not to visibly startle when the haunts darken to an inky mass of wildly cackling laughter, but his eyes do grow darker and he inhales, drawing himself more upright. Lashing his tail furiously against his hocks, he addresses the mare first, his tone condescending. "Enough. I don't have time for your mouth, pretty though it may be." He strides forward toward her, fully aware that he is a hand and a half taller and sporting musculature fueled by testosterone. Falx halts perhaps a stride or two away from her and gestures arrogantly toward the nearest exit. "Perhaps you are right, I may be a bit quick to make judgements, but my judgement call at the moment requires your removal from my land, so I'd highly suggest you pick up those nimble little feet and trot out of here." Judging from the way he continues looming near her, it's quite obvious that he has every intention of making her do just that if she won't comply. [/justify] |
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| `Scoot | Jul 28 2015, 10:02 PM Post #6 |
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"She has duct tape and chloroform and a map to your house in the back seat of her car. I thought that was a bit strange..."
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![]() [justify=500] ..::: /\/\ i r a m i s ....................... s i m a r i /\/\ :::.. Flustered by the Haunts' presence nearby, Miramis' patience was growing thin. Their audacity in claiming they knew of her travel plans before even she herself did made her scoff. Like these creatures really knew anything beyond what went on in their land. While she knew this was not the only territory on Kormada to play home to those that had passed on, she had gathered enough intel in her time to understand they were in no way connected to one another. Calling their bluff, she simply tossed her mane at them, but before she could respond, the stallion invaded her space. She froze upon hearing his words, but a smile split her face. Now would be the perfect time for her amnesia to kick in, but of course, she was hardly at the helm of that ship. Her eyes settled on his intensely, kind but anything but soft. As he continued speaking, her grin grew wider, and it was all she could do to avoid laughing at him. She had a strong inkling that in spite of the fact that he was physically in charge here, the spirits surrounding them both could make changes as they saw fit. But Miramis was a Rogue, and a Rogue she would remain. She would leave the Sector now, do as he wished, but not without leaving her mark. "Fine," she spat, snapping her tail and closing her eyes briefly as she lifted her nose proudly into the air. "Have it your way, stranger." The Appaloosa mare turned on her haunches, and then with one swift movement, launched a double-hind kick at the territorial beast behind her. The motion hurt her injured leg, and her quarters collapsed on the side where the muscles had been carved from bone by the non-equine attack so long before. Nevertheless, her aim was true. Perhaps he would dodge it, or perhaps she would miss. No matter the outcome, there was no doubt in her mind that the painted stallion would remember Miramis for some time following her departure. Probably for longer than she would remember him. [/justify] Edited by `Scoot, Jul 28 2015, 10:05 PM.
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| kimmys | Jul 28 2015, 10:33 PM Post #7 |
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![]() [justify=500]Falx is expecting a great many reactions to his speech, but her smile is not one of them. Knowing that it was only mockery annoys him, and if possible, his ears pin further in reaction. Slowly grinding his molars together, Falx silently watches the mare, wishing she would just disappear. Despite her smile, her retort is snappish and rude and he watches, infuriated, as she haughtily raises her nose at him and spins. It's only her assurance that she is leaving that keeps him from threatening further bodily harm. The last thing he expects, is for her hind feet to come flying at his chest. The sabino has quick reflexes, but there's no amount of dodging that will fully block an unseen attack and while he shifts his weight onto his hind legs, he doesn't manage to actually move the bulk of his body at all and takes the blunt edge of her hinds across his pectoral muscles. Roaring in frustration, he speaks at somewhere between a growl and a yell, "you'll pay for that, witch." Instantly enraged, but caught in a strange moment of limbo while his body gains momentum, it registers in his mind the right hit had been much weaker. Locking in on this sign of weakness from his newfound prey, his gaze darts to the spot and notes how damaged that side of her body is. Launching forward with a lithe spring, Falx attempts to draw alongside her, yellowed ivories reaching to bite at her ribs or shoulder or withers, in essence wherever they can touch. His main goal, however, is to shove the relatively more petite mare so that her weight will rest even more heavily on the injured limb that she is, with any luck, already favoring. [/justify] |
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| `Scoot | Aug 6 2015, 09:51 PM Post #8 |
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"She has duct tape and chloroform and a map to your house in the back seat of her car. I thought that was a bit strange..."
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![]() [justify=500] ..::: /\/\ i r a m i s ....................... s i m a r i /\/\ :::.. Although she was not surprised that the stallion launched a return attack, Miramis was indeed surprised by the severity. His teeth scraped at her withers and shifted her weight onto the leg so badly maimed by the beast all those years ago. A sharp cry came from her throat and her back end collapsed, but she did not fall down completely. Somehow, she managed to spin herself around as she threw her weight to the forehand, her scarred hind dangling above the good. Facing the stallion now, she pinned her ears and curled her nostrils. "I was prepared to leave, you know, but now I'm thinking I should stick around," Miramis bit out, grinding her teeth through the stabbing pains pulsing from her hip. Around her, the haunts twitched and danced, laughing by her side at her cheek. "Well played, mare," they hissed, bouncing in delight. "Do not expect him to take your threat lightly, however. You've seen how he reacts to threats to he himself." Shifting her attention now, she snapped at the spirits, "You be quiet, it's your fault for drawing him into our conversation in the first place." The haunts only laughed harder, their forms twisting into a dark mist that swirled around her injured leg. She hopped backwards on three legs now, seeking to remove them, but it did no good. The pain grew in intensity and she snorted, eyes rolling in her head, but it vanished just as quickly as it had come. The grey mare's head shot upright and she watched as the haunts themselves disappeared as well. She tested her leg, moving her weight upon it once, twice, and then more forcefully on the third time. It was not completely repaired, but it was certainly better than it had been when she'd first arrived here. Confused, she looked around, and then, tensely, at the stallion before her. A smirk crossed her features, and she pinned her ears again. "It seems they would agree with my plan." [/justify] |
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