Event  Mending the Rift: Final Chapter
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Canine 9999yo Genderfluid, Tall & Bulky Native 23 posts 0 Honor 99,395 ☪ Staff
Mending the Rift
Fable: Closing Chapter One

History is a powerful thing, and in places with magic like Ourania history doesn’t always remain silent or lost to mere memory. This day, the Rift has taken a toll on many: it has consumed and exhumed the hurts, the fears and the triumphs of the last one thousand years, only to culminate in the chasm that tore the land in two just a mere twelve months ago. Participants in this Chapter have been given visions of what once was, and what might be: pieces of the deeply embedded lore that have shaped this place into what it is today.

The creatures -- Equine and Canine alike -- are left with a choice. Convictions are terrible, wonderful things, and even the worst of history has been written with the best of intentions and vice versa. Will they come together and set aside the hurts of the past, or will they remain dedicated to their individual causes in an effort to see their visions through?

The three groups along the Rift have seen what needs to be seen, and they’ve each earned their riches of such discovery. Now, they are being called to a final destination all together along the banks of the Rift. Magic will have imbued them to such a place -- perhaps it is the Rift’s way of stalling for time, making it an easier journey for them -- and they will gather as a collective, side by side, a singular unit. 

Balance must be restored, now that the land is in healing. 

It is time for the Kingdoms to rise from the ashes. Whether that is the leadership of old or a new name of hierarchy is entirely up to those here. They must spread the word and make it known that Fate is once more in their power, yet still they are gifted a choice:

The Specifics: Kingdom creation is re-opened, but it’s a race to the finish line. The first Kingdom to be established will be given an important choice.

Option A: The new Kingdom will Mend the Rift by using their magic and means to construct a bridge to connect the two separated halves of Ourania. This Bridge will be made canon and represented on the map, wherever they choose to place it. 

Option B: The new Kingdom will elect not to build the bridge. In doing so, they are making it clear that Fate is in their hands and Ourania, for all its healing, should move forward, not laterally. Bridges serve no symbolism here.

@Klaia @Nyx @Juryoku @Ashen @Cersei @Lourdes @Ciaran @Reckitt @Aulë @Verona @Rhaegar @Blodreina @Makhai @Harrier @Vyvyan @Tolkien @Sprig @Naervon @Belial @Orithia @Corrdelia @Rowan @Azar

Welcome to the closing chapter for Mending the Rift! We highly encourage that your character(s) still respond to the other plot threads but they may also respond here if they wish. New characters, feeling the pull and importance, may also post here but all subsequent prizes of the plot have already been distributed to participants. There is no timeline to complete the above task, and we highly encourage members to make their creations organically and with as much in-character development as possible. In the event your character is not involved in the creation of this first Kingdom, that’s okay! Perhaps they might still have an impact by spreading the word of the choice and responsibility being given. Happy writing, and yay for Kingdoms!

Canine 986yo Female, Tall & Average Native 18 posts 0 Honor 144 ☪ Magtox
She's still enraged, her blood seething at her experience just now at the Rift. Once re-deposited back onto solid soil Blodreina had marched off in soot and smoke, every ounce of herself newly dedicated to a rage she hadn't felt since prior to the war. She'd thought the Divinity gone, worthless, all but forgotten except by the forlorn and misguided few who still prayed their names -- yet the magic and power of the Rift had procured visions of a past she'd all but wanted to remove entirely. The means of her future and the future of her kind were hanging in the balance and she had no time for paltry tricks of the mind; her belief in what she'd just witnessed was minimal, viewing it as a scare tactic, a residual effect of the cataclysm that had torn the land in two... an event, no less, she had yet to take responsibility for.

It would seem the Rift is not yet done with her, however: she is wisked by magic to a location not far from whence she'd left, deposited once more upon the edge but it doesn't teem nor tingle as before. Some unseen force is at work and she knows and recognizes without a doubt that the time has come for the Kingdoms to rise once again; while it is welcome news, Blodreina has no urgency for the matter. She would not collect just any to her cause, and no doubt it would take time to rebuild her army in the memory and shadow of the Varwulf's.

Being immortal, she has all the time in the world. She would make it count.

The beast doesn't linger. Rather, armed with this new knowledge, she departs in the same furious fashion in which she'd arrived.


Canine 9999yo Genderfluid, Tall & Bulky Native 23 posts 0 Honor 99,395 ☪ Staff
As there seems to be some confusion, we just want to clarify that this thread is not intended to be the creation point of the first Kingdom, but rather an announcement to all of the characters of Ourania that they -- whether by magic or subliminal means based on the visions shown to them -- are now aware that Kingdoms can once more be established.

This thread is purely intended to wrap up the main storyline of Chapter One and to bring a means of closure to the event. Any Kingdoms created, including the first Kingdom, will still need to meet all criteria as set in the compendium and the kingdom-creation discord channel.

Thank you everyone, and have fun!!

Equine 349yo Male, Tall & Average Immigrant 2 posts 0 Honor 65 ☪ Magtox
He has existed in a place of utter stillness -- the calming chasm of his mind, made real and formal by the great tear in the earth just yonder to him now. ­Ælfweard: the crown Guardian of Redwoods, exhumed from a life of demi-god status and struck to earth to live among mortals and their earthly kin, approaches the Rift with a sad wonderment. It paints his expression into something deeply hurt, as if the pain the earth and all its creatures had endured to create such a cataclysm was felt in his own breast, like hot iron pressed to flesh. The sweeping banner of his tail crawls behind him as he halts, enlightened, at the Rift's edge only to peer into its abyss. The message he'd heard on the wind was clear, and while he is no native he has some semblance of understanding in what is occurring here. 

Renewal. Rebirth. A second chance. Would they not take it?

He's observed for weeks now, calculating the measure of his weight here and what significance is laid out before him. He is but a fallen guardian, no longer on his home plane, and an utter stranger here. But something pulls at Ælfweard's heart as if to make it lighter, calling: he needs to partake, but he doesn't know how. 

"Will you Rise?" The question is spoken aloud for any who might here, for surely they were nearby. "I am Ælfweard, Guardian of Redwood and Earth and Soil. My heart is pure, and I seek only to help," he says, loud and succinct. His tones are warm and his eyes -- oh, those emerald-green eyes -- they are near-weeping with the force of his offering. It may as well be blood. "I dedicate myself to any who would step forth and guide this place to a new dawn. You have my strength, and my body, and my heart."

And there he stands, abreast of it all, waiting to be claimed for a cause.

Canine 875yo Male, Short & Thin Immigrant 46 posts 0 Honor 98 ☪ Scamander

Aulë had never truly become part of Ourania, a distant star fallen to earth, embraced by the emotion and life that was the world, and yet, he had remained distant, quiet, a watchful spark in the dark. Perhaps it was fear, a cold in his heart that did not want the world to refuse, to call him outsider, that which did not belong. How many aeons uncounted had he gazed down upon all the miracles of creation and wanted to know what it felt like, what it was to be part of a story, and not merely the spectator? Perhaps, he had to only be a little more intrepid, a comet in the heavens that said its final farewell, only to delve into that gentle darkness, see what no other eyes had ever seen before.

He knew Ourania, he knew the land, its stories, its lingering, painful marks that whispered of a time so many remembered, but, could not learn from the lessons there. The consequences were theirs to bare, his to hold, to see with eyes unclouded and seek another way, a better way. Equus and Canid once upon a time had slain Gods together, and while their cause was wrong, an aching sore that eve now continued to cause such sorrow, it revealed what they were truly capable of when the differences and uncertainities and anger was forgiven. Aulë had been caught in Fernweh for far too long, wandering the lands, knowing it as he had from afar. But, it had never been the land, not truly, that had caused him to weep in sweet adoration; it had been the creatures whos tales had unfolded as a celestial nova at the cusp of oblivion. 

Change was not just an inevitable force that shifted the endless possibilities of a story forever being written, it was neccessary, to heal that which did not work, to push the stagnant into all the wonders that could be done, if they would just take their step upon life. He knew his own path, yet, perhaps he had to take one more step, make that conscious decision to want for more. He was no observer, not anymore. His feet had touched every corner of this land, his eyes had seen it in all its colors. Standing here, returned upon the encouraging hand, Aulë looked once more to the stars, the distant an quiet, where no answers came, but all the possibilities unfolded in the stories the stars wrote in devotion they felt for the stories they watched unfurl just outside their grasp. Then, he looked back, the deep shadow cutting through the land, painful and enduring, containing all that had been an all that was, pain and anger and false triumph. Phantom words lingered against his trembling ear, fading orbs of light nothing more then a mist that cast the grass and torn earth into stark contrast. There was a chance, to heal the broken heart of Ourania, or a chance to move on, look for something new. But, could they not have both?

He touched his toes to the soil, and closed his eyes, cheek upon the soft fur of his shoulder as he breathed in the musk of rain and damp. These smells he had never known until he had given up his place in the sky. Maybe one day, he could earn his ascent once more. To watch and act as guiding light when his own fleeting heart finally deemed it time. When he dared to look forward once more, they befell a man who bore the heart of the earth itself, a spire of living wood with roots that curled around his watchful eyes in a loving embrace. "I am Aulë... I am not of Ourania, but I chose to leave the bliss of heaven for I adore Her, and all her creatures."

"I want to help to. But I fear maybe alone we will not be enough." He tread slowly, a sigh of the clothe of the horizon upon a battered and bruised earth, shy and hesitant omnipresent light casting golden light upon his hide. "Perhaps together though we can find a way to make right the consequences of the past." The harsh croon of a broken lord, bound by all that he had done and all the mistakes his kin had committed. "It is our burden to bear."

"Speaking" | @Ælfweard

Equine 349yo Male, Tall & Average Immigrant 2 posts 0 Honor 65 ☪ Magtox
He is not alone; with what felt like the crushing weight of the universe upon his shoulders, Ælfweard recognizes that no matter the loneliness, company always follows and that rings true as an illustrous creature appears before him. Whether canis or equus the golden guardian had no qualms -- his evergreen eyes come to rest on the sight of stars woven into the fur of the wolf now drawing alongside him, his voice an echo in the mind and yet somehow comforting all the same. His visage lowers along with crown and the spire of wooden horn at his forehead follows suit: it's a nod, a gesture of welcome, and greatly softened by the own softness in his eyes.

"Seere deno' lle," he spoke in warm homeland tongue, though he understood well enough the language that was spoken here to recognize that the other's name is @Aulë. His deep tones crawl upwards from a throat that feels raw with lack of use, and yet Ælfweard continues to praise the very earth he walks upon, feeling it hard and sturdy beneath his hooves.

Slowly he responds, measuring not only his reply but so too so that the other might understand him what for varying dialect. "Surely there are more who might join us," he says, his expression soft as he looks upon his company. Every inch of him is powerful and prepared and yet there is little to be found formidable about the Redwood Guardian; he is softened in every way but conviction: those remain as hardened as the mountains that make up the Feral Rim. "Bearing burdens is no new task for me." At this there is an inflection of grief, though he doesn't elude to how or why.

A soft sigh leaves his lips, and the stallion is all too ready to see what Ruler and Country might provide this healing land. He wants nothing more than to be a part of it, to mend what hurts he can sense crawling upwards from the earth. This celestial creature at his side surely possessed powers to make a difference, just like he so desperately wanted to. "Amin essa naa Ælfweard."

hover for translations


Equine 318yo Female, Short & Thin Native 26 posts 0 Honor 284 ☪ Liv
Heart of gold.

Where there is life, there is hope.

Alive, they are, though they faced the dead and Death himself. They stand as living, breathing embodiments of a future that could bring peace. The Rift was a gaping, open wound but even the worst lacerations could be healed - only leaving a scar on their hearts.. But scars do not define them. Verona stares into the Rift thoughtfully. Their convictions had led them down the path of destruction...each and every one of them had fought, they were all responsible (in one manner or another) for the gash that lay claim to their land. She closes her eyes, takes in a deep breath, and comes to a final realization - they must do something to restore the balance, before it is too late.

It isn’t long before two voices find their way into her ears. She turns, walking towards them with a confidence and fortitude she hadn’t felt in a long time. There is promise in the conversation she walks in upon, and a small smile graces her lips as she looks upon the canine made of stars and the Sun-touched stallion before her.

"I hope I am not interrupting,” She says gently, bowing her head in greeting. "I am Verona, a native and peacekeeper.” She introduces herself, eyes falling on Ælfweard. "I know plenty who are willing to join a cause for peace. And I too, am ready and willing to bear the burdens and right the wrongs of the past, if you will have me.” She glances back and forth between the two, hoping they would accept her offer.

@Ælfweard @Aulë hope it is okay that she popped in! Smile

Canine 6yo Female, Short & Thin Immigrant 56 posts 0 Honor 771 ☪ Witty
Strawberries, and soft, fertile earth. Verona had been there to comfort her, to assure her that not all was lost, that there was still hope to make amends.  

The pale wolf stands there, many moments after the equus has left her side, considering the chasm at her feet. A light breeze rises from the blackness, sending her fluff of white fur swaying, she digs her paws into the ground, tenses her legs. Already having seen what was waiting below, witnessing the way her face might take on the mask of smoke, her eyes lifeless pits, dull voids that reflected no light within. It’s not what she wanted for herself, it’s not what she wanted for any other living, breathing being that walked this earth.

Kitt takes her time, leaving only after she has allowed the ache of her heart to settle, her head to clear, focus. This was no time for rash decisions, to second guess oneself, she needed to get a grip on her bearings; there was a lot of work to be done. The nearby voices drift in on the slightness of the wind, so her ears follow the sound, perking towards the noise, then her feet follow.

Here is where the night sky rises once more, disregarding the light of the sun next to him, the golden gleam of the horse at his side. She is not surprised to see him linger, the other, the long face- this one is new, she wags her tail in greeting.The tail end of the conversation between them, has barely pressed her auds, though the offer exchanged has not gone amiss- she has enough wit about her to respond.

“And I,” she dips her head, finding a place to sit, to rest her weight; that place is the right hand side of the sooty mare.

“This is wrong,” she gestures towards the great scar, motions with her head the seemingly endless wound. “All of this meaningless death,” her words trail off into a weighted sigh, then she looks to each of the males, resting her silver head against the strength of a muscled leg.
HTML by Witty-art by notedpeculiar-words: 360-tags: @Verona @Aulë @Ælfweard

Equine 99yo Female, Average & Average Native 36 posts 0 Honor 698 ☪ Pyro

She is still feeling drained from her experience in the rift earlier. Nothing she had ever done before had brought true consequences. Only her lack of action. It took away her mother and now it is threatening to take away her world and her life. The gods, Ourania, whatever is was that was down there with her left a clear message, if this metaphorical rift between species is not mended there is going to be more loss and destruction. And this time she cannot step back and ignore it. She cannot be selfish anymore. 

Finding the bit of strength, she has left she walks over to where the others have already begun to gather. Her anxieties begin to buzz at the sight of so many strangers but she has to push on. For whatever reason, she has been chosen. There is no way she can be a leader right now, the best she can do for now is set an example. Klaia can stretch out her hoof towards wolfkind and offer them no judgment. She can forgive them, mostly because she was never directly involved, and hopefully show other horses that a union could be good. The mare approaches the group silently and pulls in next to Reckitt, she offers her a smile. All she hears are the last words spoken so she quickly jumps on that train. “The only way to stop that is to show that canines and equines can coexist peacefully.” She tries to keep her voice form leaving her and manages to maintain a steady tone. “No more words, we need to act before the rest remember the wounds and threats that were made.” How could they do this? She does not know. She simply knows that they must find a way to convince the rest of Ourania or return to the darkness of the rift. Klaia is not going to risk going back there ever again. 

Having said her piece, she begins to look around the group. Blue eyes dart from a galaxy-pelted wolf to a sort of tree unicorn to a mare made of black and green. They all looked magical, the wolf seems especially divine. Heck, even Reckitt has a godly sparkle she had not noticed before. Who exactly formed this group? Why did the rift just not spit her out? She is no hero, she is just a nerd. A scared little girl that wants to hide behind her parents, behind her past, behind her ignorance. But there is something within Klaia that glows with determination. There is bravery in her and there is hope. Mistakes were made and she’s here to make sure that they do not happen again, whether it’s her or others, she will fight to make things right. That she is certain of.

@Reckitt @Verona @Ælfweard @Aulë

Canine 875yo Male, Short & Thin Immigrant 46 posts 0 Honor 98 ☪ Scamander

"Together even the most impossible of tasks can be accomplished. Where one is weak alone, when they are with other's who have the same dream, they become strong." His words fell as lanterns in a dark place, a truth he had witness time and again across the ages, the secreted wishes of the hopeless, given strength when there was but a few who would dare to make a change. The greatest of waves began with the smallest of ripples, a stone tossed into the depths, sinking into places unknown. This, was chance for them to do better, for the world that had been broken and tarnished for so long to have its heart returned, its children reborn. What would become of Ourania, a land of war, a land of simple, small wonders? Would it fall into those depths, drawn by the insurrmountable weight they had tied upon it, and succomb to ruin? Would it be too late? These were questions, doubts, fears, they brewed forth from the spark, shadows born of light and joy. There would always be these questions, and to some, it would be enough to stop them in their tracks, to lay the foundations of cracks in their resolve until they could not bare to carry one.

It was an impossible task, to heal Ourania alone.

But they were alone. It was the beauty that had drawn Aulë to this place so many aeons ago, it had been what had made a star forsaken its infinity for the complications and pain of living a mortals life. For far too long they had put up walls, great and sprawlings chasms that could not be crossed. Equus and Canid, always apart, always the enemy. Even in the war against the Gods, those horrific images causing his brow to furrow, there had always been doubts, slander, suspicion. They were always the 'Other.' Only the Golden Armistice had had strength to bare the burden, to look for similarities that other's did not wish to see. If it had been possible than, surely, it was possible now. All that was needed, was courage, wisdom, and strength. 

And as glimpse of lore, a totem of a spirit that was infallable and innately good, they came. One by one, returned to the living baring their burdens, catching a glimpse that had been in his heart all along. To each, he bowed his head, and too each, he watched, as one by one, they came to stand together. Equine and canid, facing each other, their breathes intermingled, their bodies steadfast. "This land has suffered. It's people have suffered. So much hate and violence. It had blinded our hearts and our minds. We cannot change what has already past. The gods, those who have fallen here on this earth, their bones under our feet; they are forever beyond our grasp. But... perhaps we can heal the wounds so no more meaningless death has to occur." They could not forget, they would not forget. The faces of the shackled dead, forever would they plague his mind, his heart aching with each breath he took, his eyes befallen as tears marked the fur of his cheek. 

"So many are afraid, or unwilling to see the possibilities of a better way, one that does not bare the suffering of bloodshed. There are more, there must be more. We must prove to them that their fears do not define our fate." He looked to each, the steadfast man of the earth, his heart baring all the burdens of life, the white daughter, blessed by the heavens, and the two crowned mares, so courageous and brave in their decisions to face the desolation that had been left behind. "Ourania is my home. I would not it fall to shadow and despair any longer."

"Speaking" | @Ælfweard @Verona @Klaia @Reckitt

Canine 6yo Female, Short & Thin Immigrant 56 posts 0 Honor 771 ☪ Witty
attempts to revive thread

They fall in line, rather they come together, forming a half-circle here at the edge of the chasm. Those that are so different on the outside, but very much the same on the innards, deep within where it mattered most- at the heart. Reckitt remains silent as they approach, leaning against the strength of Verona’s sooty leg, seeking comfort in her presence- Kitt was still shaking, even if only just.

Glowing eyes take in each new face, a restful sigh escaping her pale lips, and she perks up as their numbers grow, as hope grows as well with each new friend. Was this here all along, these precious souls that were not so biased and callous? Enough to bring a stillness to her frame, to ease the shaking of her limbs and she stills, lifting her weary head from the crutch of another. “Hello,” she greets them, fluff of cloud wagging at her back, she wants to lick their faces, to press her snout in the silk of their fur.

She doesn’t.

There is no lack of horses, this much is apparent, it makes her wonder just how truly segregated they still were. At least there are more open to mending the Rift; there was work to be done in that regard.

Kitt is proud to see so many of her own, the velvet snouts and the perked ears. To the golden equine, the painted form of her friend, the sooty mare at her side- she gives special thanks, approaching them and dipping her head. “Thank you for being here,” she tells them, “for welcoming our kind just as we hope to welcome yours.” That is where she leaves it, dipping her head in respect and offering words of gratitude.

Even these few, this sunlit unicorn, and his brethren, was enough to let her know there were still ways to show their hearts. That they were others willing to rise above the hate, to pave new paths and seek glory for all, if even in the form of living and letting live- was that so much to ask?

“So it is agreed then friends, together we make the first Kingdom?” It was odd to take the floor, to be observed in the spotlight when for so long she had sulked in the corner, hidden in the shadows of others.
HTML by Witty-art by notedpeculiar-words: 397-tags: @Verona @Aulë @Ælfweard @Corrdelia @Klaia