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There was an ache in his soul, a bone-deep ache that sometimes consumed him. At times like these, he simply wanted to sink to his knees in a dusty field, and give in to the roaring void lurking at the edges of his mind. Exhaustion was a constant companion, a hound nipping at his haunches and driving him on when he should've lain down and rested. There was always something to do, a task to finish, orders to hand out, things to accomplish, abominations to exterminate; but never time for rest. Since the herd had grown so large, he'd started to become more alienated to them. He knew their faces or their names, but nothing more. Who where they? What characters lurked behind their outer appearances? It was a shame, really, that he didn't know. Since when had he got so caught up in the world, he didn't have time to meet them anymore? He shook his large head, confused and bewildered. Time flew, and he with it, but everything else was just a blur. How long since he had talked to his son, Nattfari? How long since he had simply walked among his herd, shared their daily life, shown himself? Too long. Far too long.

Adalwulf sighed. His pale gaze was fixed upon the infinite horizon, as if trying to see into the very heart of Isilme and learn her secrets. His heart was weary. His body was weary. Impulse after impulse was sent from his brain, a wish to lie down upon the spring earth, among blades of brilliant green grass - but the legs of the large, elegant king did not fold. He did not lower his white self to the ground, but remained standing.

The more time that passed, the more he felt like a phantom, a walking ghost; haunting the Valley. Shadow-like, drifting from place to place, always there but never seen, never heard, never touched. His 'brows furrowed, an expression of sorrow coming over his handsome, healing face. It was wrong. It should not be that way. He should be brilliant as the sun, power and flames in his aura, walking among his people. Seen. Felt. Not distant, like some form of elevated God - if he became such a thing, aloof and somehow excluding himself from the herd, or the herd from himself, he would be overthrown. He would appear a false nobility, not wanting to mix with the commoners - such things would brew unrest, not only within the ranks but within his heart. Adalwulf was not a man who despised his people, but one who loved them - he wanted to be a part of them. He needed them.

Nidhöggr was not with him, as the sun fell downwards to the horizon; she was somewhere else, asleep upon her eggs. And so, the King walked alone, descending from the throne in the mountains to dwell in his own realm. The Gods had once more proclaimed him victorious, superior, against the filthy, low-life scum of the former Cliffs. Smoldering ruins were all that remained, in which a new empire was being sown, to reach high with earth, rock, and tree. The Equines were on the move, and within Adalwulf's chest, the slumbering ambitions woke again. To truly show the world who were the best, the pure; now that their ties with the Woodlands and Sylvanas herd of mixed mercenaries were severed, there was nothing in his way, no morals to cloud his judgment and decisions. The fires of war would consume the world, only to plant seeds in the rich, fertile ash. In the name of himself, and somewhat in the name of Nieque, after all their Father needed some respect even if he was half mule, he would conquer the world, bring it to its knees and give his race the space he needed. His head lifted higher, once more searching for the horizon; his chest swelled with air and life. His movements had stalled, leaving him quiet and statue-like, crafted by the hands of Gods to physical perfection. A weapon, with a mind of its own and a goal in this world.

But, as he exhaled again, some of the spark faded from his eyes and the air left his nostrils in a sigh. What was a King, who did not know his people? What good would the world be, if he would be isolated - isolation, caused by himself? To take over the world, would be to start in the wrong end.

Thus, the pale king waited beneath the silver rays of moonlight; waited, for whoever of his herd would desire his company.

[ I'd like for more than one to join, but not too many - Wulf needs to meet his herd :3 ]

Well, welcome back to the Valley Aera. Watch the balloons fly as a big crowd greets you when you walk in from discovering other places in Isilme. Eat your welcome back cake because that is all the appreciation your getting from anyone. So Aera ate her invisible cake.

Her black, slim frame moved into the valley slowly. Looking over the terrain and seeing nothing but an empty abyss to her. Either it was the feeling of life stirring in her or just the fact she was tired. Nonetheless she kept moving. Her legs felt heavy as bricks the more she moved. The horizon was painted in hues and speckled with white clouds, the only thing that kept her from lying there and staying there for a while.

As time passed, the sky began to darken and the moon and his wives filled the sky to replace the sun and her mighty wrath. The sounds of the night rang into her ears like a well thought out symphony. It was peaceful to hear it. Aera found haven in the night, she became her own invisibility shield. Yet some could still tell her distinctly from the nights shadows. Most of the time though she would lay hidden from the rest of the world. It was her way to escape reality.

As she drifted deeper into the bowls of the valley, she noticed a vaguely familiar Silhouette standing amongst the green sea of the valley. The scent was familiar to her, it was Adalwulf. She had probably annoyed him enough already but she was lonely. So what the heck. Her feet began slowly beating below her again as she made her way to him, it didn't take her long to be within a few feet of him.

She didn't say anything as she walked towards him. She just waited to be noticed before she talked. Aera knew better than to disturb someone of a higher rank. That was something that was drilled into her. She just silently approached.

He was injured, she could see. Badly injured. His face was burnt, and just seeing him in such pain made the healer in her throb. Despite how he had made her feel like a piece of shit during her quest for warriorhood, she was not one to hold a grudge, and he was her king. If he had been off bashing on pegasus, then he deserved healing! Misery held a flat stone in her mouth, on which was some of the green goo she had used to heal Gunslinger with. It wouldn't be enough for Adalwulf, however - his wounds were too serious, she would need to make more. And so she set about it, her instincts telling her which flowers to pick, using her mind to ask Saphri to fetch the ones out of her reach. She placed all her ingredients on top of the green mulch she already had, then shut her eyes to focus on the magic she had been bestowed with by the mighty bear. When her eyes opened again, they were green; beams of green light shot from them to the pile of leaves and flowers as her nose touched them, the magic turning it into healing goo. Soon, the stone was heaped with the stuff, and Misery instantly felt the drain on her strength. Exhausted, she wobbled where she stood; it wasn't as bad this time, because she had not had to make so much gloop, but she was still absolutely knackered.

Lifting the now-replenished stone, Misery wandered over to Adalwulf. As she did, another mare approached; a pregnant one. My my, had Mr Wulf been doing naughty things? Still, a herd leader had to do his duties. Keep the herd freshly stocked. Part of Misery wondered whether he expected her to offer herself to him for sprog-making, but she soon shoved that thought away. She was sure he was happy some of the herd weren't related to him, as Terrador and Vixen weren't! Moving closer, Misery smiled at the mare, then nodded deeply and respectfully to the king, subservient as ever. She placed the stone at her feet, then looked into Wulf's eyes with her own gentle, now-golden ones. "You have taken a fair battering, my lord! Allow me to alleviate your sufferings?"

She wanted to head right in and heal him, but knew she should get his permission first. Didn't want to be presumptuous! Dipping her head, she dabbed the tip of a stick into the liquid; she had fashioned the stick after healing gunslinger. The end was frayed, a makeshift brush, easier to caress the pains of war. She dipped the frayed end into her healing material, stepping closer to Wulf with her head tilted, asking him to let her make him better.

Quietly, they came - trickling like water over rocks, wearing the dirt floor down. The marks they would leave in Isilme could never be erased; like river beds shifting, consuming land whole. Adalwulf, proud king of the valley, stood quiet, awaiting them. A stray beam of moonlight, touching the earth. Graceful, feral - quiet, contemplating. First came Aera, the midnight mare he had bred with; second came Misery, carrying a stone covered in green goop and dipping a brush-like stick in it; third came a mare he had not met before, bowing to the earth before speaking. Adalwulf took them all in, his eyes wise and wolf-like. "Aera," he murmured his late greeting. "Misery," he acknowledge her; a permission, also, for whatever she intended with that dangerous stick of hers. And lastly, the new mare he had not met before. "Greetings, stranger I do not yet know - I am Adalwulf." King or not King, it did not matter tonight. If she knew his name, she would know who he was - if she did not, she could meet him as himself, and later learn of his profession here in the Valley.

Adalwulf, restless, shifted his weight, one hind hoof resting upon its tip. A battering, indeed - a victorious battering, if you could say such a thing. "No need to call me 'lord', Misery," he chided her softly as he waited, pale tail twitching once. And then, he was quiet and still again, his eyes burning beneath his half-closed lids. Light and shadow danced before his introverted gaze, the mixture of night-light and bodies. He could feel their warmth surrounding him, he could smell their individual scents and the stories of their days upon their skins. There was so much to learn, from quiet observance, so much to see if you only could remain vigilant. Ghosts, they do not have time to live - but they have time to think.

A frail wolf's smile touched his lips.

This herd was strong, this empire was large, they had numbers and they had strong, beating hearts. They were, in a sense, invincible. They could never be broken. This was his reason to smile, the scoundrel smile of a saintly villain. As long as there was blood in their veins, air in their lungs, and flames in their souls, they could never be defeated. They were mighty, they were divine. When the world went down in fire and thunder, when the other races perished among ashes and sulfur, they would prevail.

His eyes fluttered open, revealing his pale and intense gaze. In a deep voice, full of iron wills and determination, he spoke a single sentence - odd, if you had not been privy to his slow trickle of thoughts, desires, wishes.

"We are invincible."

[ sorry for taking so long, but I was held up by life and invasions and lack of anything good to write X3 ]

More of them came. All mares, no stallions. Only two others had arrived. One of them was named Misery, the other, she hadn't met before. When Adalwulf gretted her she replied quietly. "Adalwulf." It all seemed so peaceful here, so quiet.

She saw a smile play acorss his lips and she smiled quickly and warmly. What he said next made her feel even more safe. It ran true in her ears and probably the ears of the others. "We are invincible, yes we are..." she whispered quietly to herself. She though of the new baby on the way, of the sheer size of this herd. Of the strength that emnated form every living body of every equine.

Another arrived soon after Misery, a mare the giantess didn't recognise. She offered the younger one a nod, then turned back to Adalwulf. The stallion gave his permission to help, and Misery smiled widely past the stick in her mouth. Perhaps it was selfish of her, but she took a great pleasure in healing others - every time their wounds were healed, their pain lessened, she, too, would feel good about herself. Feel like she had a use in the world. Backing away, she looked over Adalwulf as an artist would look over her canvas before painting on it. The burns on his face looked the worst, and so that was what she worked on first. Gently, she leaned down to paint around her King's face, being careful not to hurt him with the frayed end of the stick. Once a thin layer of green was administered to the burns, she moved onto the less serious wounds around his body.

Stepping back to admire her handiwork, Misery offered him a warm smile, placing the stick into what remained of her healing solution. There was not much left at all - Adalwulf's injuries had been plentiful. Once her exhaustion from this particular doctoring had abated, she would have to make some more. "It's a bit unsightly, I'm afraid, but you can wash it off in the morning. It'll take a few days for the wounds to heal, but the pain relief should be instantaneous. There might be some scarring on the burns, though." She wondered how he'd got those burns - to her knowledge, pegasi didn't breathe fire!

She dipped her head to acknowledge she had heard him tell her not to call him 'lord' - it came as somewhat of a relief that the grey stallion did not expect his mares to revere him as such. She sighed, however, when he said the Valley was invincible. She understood his optimism - the Valley was huge and powerful, as they had proved with their invasion of the Cliffs. Yet it wasn't invincible. "Alas, we are not invincible. Nobody is. We are powerful, yes, but every empire falls one day. If we get too sure of ourselves, too arrogant because of our size, then another will take advantage of us." It was a warning, almost a premonition - if the Valley became to sure of its abilities, too cocky in its ability to fight off any invasion that came, then they would fall. "Everything must come to dust," she murmured.

the picture is coming soon..xD

I tried for epicness, but apparently it failed epically, and is not possible, *flails* Oh well.

-A Wandering-

Gossamer had rested for a while after her, very, uneventful fight. But now it was night. The silver rays of moonlight had entered her small glade upon the cliffs and woken her to the sound of continued fighting and screams of pain. The sounds had tortured her as she could do no more for her equine herd as her body was both too tired to fight or heal as of yet. So she had left to wander this night in the company of the moon rays and silence. Her tired porcelain pelt had weaved among the rocks peacefully as she had slowly made her way down. The sound of her hooves hitting rock changing slowly to that of dirt ,and eventually, grass. When the sound of faint voices penetrated the veil of silence surrounding her walk she was surprised for a moment and ceased her steps. Suddenly, she did not want to be alone. She wanted company.




- We Finally Meet-

She saw them before she met them. She saw a few horses, but not alot. There was a bulky stallion, a tall mare, maybe taller than herself, and another two she could not see clearly in the the night. SHe drew closer like a ghost in the night. Her mane and tail fluttered like fog upon a beach. Ivory pelt gleamed in the moonlight. Goddess like body moved with bred grace and large brown eyes assessed the situation. She approached the stallion first as her fine breeding and lead mother's training had taught her. She bowed her neck in respect for the obviously respected stallion."Hello, I am Gossamer, Cliffs Healer. Whomever you are, I am pleased to meet you and ask your forgiveness if I have interrupted anything." She ended with another elegantly royal bow of her delicate head to the stallion and awaited a reply from him or someone else in the clearing.


[occ: Sooo, Gossamer says hi! ^^ lol

]

G o s s a m e r
-rawr-

Misery advanced on him, the stick still sticking from between her teeth. He watched it with quiet caution, the same curiosity a wolf might display when first confronted with the rifle of a hunter when the hunter was not attached to its other end. A green, gooey mass hung from the end of it, clinging to the frayed end of the stick - some sort of healing goop, from the look of it. He trusted Misery in this; if her intention was to poison him, he had seriously misjudged her character and deserved it, and if it was some random thing she decided testing, she had probably tested on someone else first. And hopefully, they had survived.

His nose twitched as she came nearer, his eye straining to keep the brush in sight. The green slime touched the burns, and gladly abandoned the brush for his hot, blistered skin. It felt cool, like a touch of snow or water on his too-hot face. He stood quiet as she applied more of the cold, soothing mess, trying to ignore the sharp stench of plants and magic. It tingled in his nose, and various nerves of his face twitched when she touched him. It felt odd, to be treated like this; the pain dulled and he felt cooler, but he wasn't used to having a stick in his face. When she had finished and stepped back, he looked at her with level eyes. "Thank you," he murmured, deciding to believe in whatever new-found healing abilities she had acquired.

He tilted his head as she spoke - every member of the Valley was entitled to an opinion of their own, even if he felt like smacking her for ruining the moment. "Not all empires fall," he said, his voice soft. "As long as the spirit remains within the body, an empire can stand - even if it is only two individuals forming it. Our spirits are strong, our bodies young. In that sense, we are invincible." The quiet gray mare at the edges hadn't spoken again, and Adalwulf let her be. Instead, he turned his eyes upon the white form making its way over to them. She, too, was a ray of stray moonlight, a chance beam touching the earth. He watched quietly as she approached, then listened to her introduction. Gossamer, Cliffs healer. An ally, then. He smiled, the kind smile of a wolf, and returned the bow, albeit on a smaller scale. "Gossamer of the Cliffs, you are not interrupting anything," he said smoothly. "You are welcome to join us." He shifted his bulk somewhat to the side, to make room for her among them; she probably did not know who he was, but it mattered little. He wasn't in the mood for shoving his title as King into the face of anyone, but rather he was in the mood to be someone, an individual and not a regent. He wanted to meet his people, the people of Gideon's herd - he wanted to see them face-to-face, and not from the vantage of his throne.

Another mare popped onto the scene, another whom Misery did not recognise. She soon got her answer; this was a mare of the Cliffs. The giantess offered a smile and a nod to the newcomer. "Misery," she said, her voice as soft as ever. Adalwulf seemed satisfied with her handiwork, and she sent him a wide smile, pleased that she had finally found her calling. Oh, the pain of not being good enough for warriorhood would never leave her, yet her new job as a healer satisfied her deepest desires to help her herd.

She declined to comment as Adalwulf brushed off her warnings - she hadn't expected anything more. He was a fine king, of course, but she often felt he (and a large part of the rest of the Valley) was blinded by their racism, not to mention growing in arrogance alongside the growth of the herd. Pride comes before a fall, they say, and Misery could only hope the fall would not be a chasm. "Let's hope our enemies feel the same way," she said with a wry smile. Saphri plopped down onto her rump and she backed away slightly, her work here done. She halted for a moment, in case Adalwulf had anything else to say to her before she departed. She had to create more healing mixture and recover her own strength, as one never knew when an invasion was just around the corner.

the picture is coming soon..xD

I tried for epicness, but apparently it failed epically, and is not possible, *flails* Oh well.

-COMING-

COMING




- COMING-

COMING


[occ: Sooo, Gossamer says hi! ^^ lol

]

G o s s a m e r
-rawr-