|  Author | Topic: The world is in our grasp (Read 332 times) |
Duran
Administrator
Lord of Dyain
member is offline
Joined: Jul 2006
Posts: 46
Karma: 3 |  | The world is in our grasp
« Thread Started on Jul 31, 2006, 4:23pm » | ![[Quote]](http://s4.images.proboards.com/buttons/quote.gif) |
Optics bathed in obsidian hue etched across vast terran, the brute mingled, moving with ease and pace towards locked quordinates. Crimson mocha washed canvas gleamed brilliantly in the dancing rays from the bruning star above. Moving forth up the steep mountain slope of grazed down emeralds and hardened molten cinders the patron made his way onward. Once he reached a high latitued the tycoon of Dyain could see all his kingdom. From north to south, east to west, it seemed as if the world was in his grasp. Lappets molded forth, listening to the lyrics of those whom he might run across in his journey towards his kingdom. Seeming as though more and more equines pillaged about his lands each day made Duran feel like this empire might have a brighter future, on much brighter than the one he ventured from, or the one Syriae had aswell. Always holding some feeling they could manage a real empire, one sterdier than most others, he had high hopes for the lands of Dyain. Craning the slender rusette serpine from its curve, the alabastor hued pistons began their rythmic beats once more. Apoun the cinder the pedistols beat, one, two, one, two, one, two. a never dieing rythem. Dished visage held a slender curve, mug brushing the underside of his boa. Pulling his light mass up to the peak of the cresting hill, the brute felt the breezes of spring pulling back his locks and soothing his soul. nares flared, extinguishing the deep inhale of oxygen and releasing the carbon that was no longer needed. Sitting back slightly on his haunches the king of Dyain made his way down the slope and onward towards his home.
Lunging off the last few feet of the loose sodden slope, he landed on the grounds of a new terrain. This one was more of a swamped area. Pests buzzed about Duran's harks, drawining crimson from his their roots. Whisk batted those it could. Shaking his mass, the brute knew it would be wise to move swiftly threw these lands. How some could live here he knew not. What he did know was that he sure as hell would never live in such a place. Stilts thrust forth, swallowing the abode with ease, as the lord fled from the terrain towards the valley. Optics caught glimpses of other equines, milling about the lands, all of their crania's lowered in submission to the lord, showing their respect for his title. nodding to them in reply, he continued on, speed fastening with each growing stride. One...two....three.....one.....two.......three.........one.................two...........................three. It became an unsteady rythem, each stride long than the last. Spool flung outwards, crest straightening as he fled onwards, with speed of a cheetah, and the grace of a gazelle, nothing could catch him, nothing could out do him. No insects could catch onto his pelt, those whome did manage to do so were prepelled off by the winds whipping him head on. Slowly the mists began to lift, the swap aroma leaving his nares, and soon he was out of the swamp lands and into a beautiful, bright valley, full oflife and fresh aqya pools.
slowly Duran decreased his speed, swinging his bod around in a large circle to reduce friction. Finally he came to a hault, barely out of breath. Duran was in great shape, climbing steep slows and rocky mountains, going threw deep sod and muck in the swamp lands and desserts. optics caught sight of the fresh crystals in the pool beside the steep mountain side. Heading towards the blue, he sprung into a bouncey gait. Duran always had a since of happiness within him. He always acted like a young colt when conditions allowed. He enjoyed being friendly, happy, peppy. He got that from his dam, his strict side and temper came from his sire, as well as great leadership. Duran could lead an army into battle, get equines to join him, no matter what the reason, he had this inviting and brilliant feel to him, trustworthy it seemed. Knowing him five seconds or five years, you still felt the same way towards him, as the same with his sire. Looking into the trancing aqua pool, he remembered his past, good and bad. He was the son of the lord of a far off land no longer in exsistance today. Pershing not long after his leaving, a war had broke out bewteen dark an light. His parent had passed, so the fight for whome would rule began, resulting in the termination of the entire empire. It was a sad day, loving that land with all his heart, his memories were all that were left of that once thriving land.. But, he ruled a land just like that one, with a great femmine at his side, Syiade. To her he was heading, he was not far now, only one more land to cross, the forest. Taking his final sip of the sparkling pool, he dropped his mug to realease the blue still held within. harks flicked off a pesky speck and he headed onwards into the forest that were dark, but not too dark.
Fallen lumber layed in the paths and all around the dense foliage. Bushes of berries but sweet and lethal, the forest held life and death. Winged creatures loomed in the towering branches above, waiting for something small to pass by, or something large to drop dead. Duran picked up a lively gait, trotting along down the path. Kicking his gait up another knotch he heade into a steady canter. One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three. A log loomed ahead, taking it in stride, he continued on. one, two three, one, two, three,..land.., two, three, one two, three. Small winged chickedies sang their beautiful song, gracing all whome could hear their gorgeous melody. It soothed the lord making him feel at home and welcome to the lands he ruled and loved. light streemed in threw the branches, for no foliage did they yet bare. A heavy sigh released carbon from his salmons, the light breeze whipping the inter-twining threads of light mocha. Flints printed the loam, leaving his mark for all to see. So far these lands haden't brought on his fury, resulting in a deadly brawl. Coming forth he headed out of the forstest andinto his beautiful terrain. Waterfulls and jungle surrounded the the lands, lushious grasses in the valley off to the side. Shade in the tropical area, and many other things as well. Paradise has a name, and this was indeed paradise. heading to the area near the mountain peaks, the patron scareamed his toon to call for his queen. Syiade, Come to our homeland, i wish to speak with you. I am here, and you should be too. with that the brute headed towards the falls as his vocals bounced off the peaks and into the lands of Dyain. Waiting under a shaded tree, he lay, tired from his journey, waiting for his queen.
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![[image]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v602/moulin_rouge_graphics/studio%20orders/TargetPreview2-1.jpg)
Duran
The formation: patron. crimson. arabic. 5. 15.3.
The traits: bold. leader. dark. King of Dyain. |
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Syriae
Administrator
Lead personalizer && lady of Dyain
member is offline
Rising from the ashes
Joined: Jul 2006
Posts: 55
Karma: 1 | | Re: The world is in our grasp
« Reply #1 on Aug 4, 2006, 5:23pm » | |
The pitter patter of the spring rains awoke the resting dame, rose shaded pelting pulling away from the signature cherry tree she once leaned against. Bleachen tassels serving as a slinging device for the running droplets, falling in ribbons to the thick greenery. Splotches of diluted bleach nestled against the rosen grey now became darker, damp with the new release of precipitation. Stockings of alabaster becoming a yellow tainted shade, yes this was Syriae. The light blossoms coating the geo around the large growth. She would remain here in the days of her youth, in the days of Lemorsea. Her and her siblings would run these near by plots, their safe heaven against the uprising wars. Roasted almond pools remained hidden, the curtains refusing to draw. Nares beginning to inflate, the journey from the dream relm soon to begin. She was indeed lost in what was just created in that vivid world, seeming all too real. The shower growing in its outpour, a stream forming upon the carefully carved dial. Chilled liquid kissing the nape, a little parting gift as the dive to the geo was taken. How s w e e t. Now, the curtains beginning to draw, the world now viewed through the toasted pools. Rain rain go away, come again another day. Nares began to flare once more, scents. It was so clean, the sour washed away with the new event. Fresh. If only the rains could reach the soul, scrubbing away the old and sour. If only If only, the woodpeckers song. Reach me redemption, allow the rains to come for me. A breeze now accompanied the welcoming rains, dial lifting slightly. Awake. Yes it was pleasing. Liquid now ran down the plate, entering the threads of sugar coating. Tendons wrapping around the slender bone began to retract, tug and pull. Move along.
He had already arrived, she could feel it. The tingle in the skin, it was present. His scent faint, toying with the rains, begging to remain. Washing me away. The movements to progress had been taken, the idle state lifted from the ess. Twist and twine your days with mine. Misery and doubt, joy and the positive. They mingle oh so well. you and me. That is how it always shall be. I remember, you know the days of war. You where always there, me standing in the background, a part of the scenery. I was not one to enter the brawl, as my siblings had. One by one they fell. Ashes from ashes, they roam I know it. Spirits. They live in me, they live in you. Lets rewind to the mists of battle, the cries and screams. I remember like it was yesterday. Kemor and Aaraya, I miss them. Sire and dam, where did they go? Cast into hiding, never escaping. Kemor was not one to fall so easily, neither was Aaraya. The dark lord and lady, Rendia and Dersk. They had always been close with the second generation, herself included. Lasyia and Rednalds, the light lord and lady. Healing each equine, a feverish leap from on to the other. They where the first to be stolen, lives snatched by the fools leading the rebellion. The lands of Desque. Rancid beings. Sashe and Eclipse, Hannah and Ori trailing behind. She knew of the secrets Ori and Kemor had once shared, a forbidden lust. Dersk had stopped it, interrupting their brief meeting. Could this sparked a second wave? Against Aaraya that is. Kemor stuck in the middle between the mistress and mate. Sashe and Eclipse had almost made it, taking over the Beloved Lemorsea. The guardians now came, felines of immortal standing. Whipping out the race of rebels, leaving the pure and true to live on. A last appearance was made by Kemor, the last killing made. Dear Sashe, his life snatched by the creator. Along with Lemorsea, everything was destroyed, The vix left with only a handful of the most loyal, ruins and rubble marking the lands. Life has a circle proudly defined by thick boundaries and lines. So she now ruled with an immortal fist, elements flowing in the blood of two kinds. Dark and light. Sanity and that lacking. Duran. I have missed you.
A swifter pace, the leggings moving at a rapid rate. The babbles of the stream becoming louder as she neared, crystals never touching the liquid. Soaring. Wordings had been sputtered, the lobes of the misses absorbing them as a dry sponge to water. The rain had let up slightly, the downpour a notch lesser than what had been first released. Nares flared, the scents churning through the passages, sensitive corridors filing each twang and must. Duran was near, it was felt. The tingles starting up once more, leggings numb with the swift churn. Fores locked, jutting from under the grey curvature of Syriae, hinds following the action. The stop was only for a split second, the spray of loose sod curving around the bodice as a twist was made, fores leaving the sweet mirth as the form lifted into the atmos, a leap snatching the form. A gap, many of these found. Where the lands parted, the fires surfacing from the lands bellow. A part of the great action leaving Lemorsea empty. Ruins of Mist. There he was, the pace slowed. Dial lowered, respect. The toned arch formed, the one two step now preformed. Delicate arches, a beautiful array of dainty actions. She stopped only feet away from the one laced in burnt shades of geo
"Duran, I never left".
Her tones where soft, whispered. Only for the auds of one, coiling around the erected lobes. Dyain had grown at a rapid pace, it brought her pride. Spring time, it was so glorious. The rains. Stopped. Rays of golden plastering emerging from the grey clouds, parting the waves. Occuli of the dame found that of brute holding, the shades of rose and toasted almond found in the pools of she. Life is a waiting room. Forever waiting we shall be.
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![[image]](http://img360.imageshack.us/img360/2659/targetpreviewrv8.jpg)
Sight:Petite framing, doused in bleach. Arabic formation.
Personality:Bold. Ruler of Dyain.
The stats : Residing in the lands of Xenthe. Unknown orbits. |
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