[IC] =The Thunderbird Herd=

[Kamiki]

Sabin Duvert

The Coming of Spring
Catching up with Balrog and Stormwild.
Soquili Involved:Stormwild & Balrog

Balrog stood poised on a ledge near the top of the cliff that jutted out of the center of his herd's territory. His wings were half unfurled at his sides, and he breathed deeply as the winds whipped through his mane and feathers. Spring had come to the land, melting the snows, bringing tender new leaves and grasses. This was the time of year when everything felt clean. New. And along with the disappearing snows seemed to go many of Balrog's lingering troubles and guilt. Anemone had left. So had many of the lesser members of the herd. It was a new spring - both for the land and his herd.

New life was in the herd as well. Belle and Zhuri had had foals again - strong, beautiful foals and three of them - all of them with the gift of wings. Even Azure's indescretion with some strange mare from another herd had brought new life to their herd. And at least he had had the sense of mating with another that yielded winged foals. They both had the strange bug-wings as she did, but it was infinately better than nothing.

And then there was the basket, still housing a son... his son... whenever he emerged that was. But the basket still brimmed with life despite the long wait. But overall, he was pleased. Happy even.

Stormwild came up slowly behind Balrog, being quiet and letting him have his moment. She let the breeze drift through her own mane, tossing it back in the wind and enjoying the serenity of spring. Balrog had seemed more content resently, and despite her sacrifices, she felt more at ease overall. After a few moments she stepped closer, nuzzling her nose behind his ear in greeting

Balrog stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed and nuzzled back at her with a content rumble. Balrog had indeed been much more approachable recently. Granted, after the incidents, Balrog had been wary for a while - anxious to let himself relax or believe that the soquili in question were really gone.

"How have you been, Stormwild?" he inquired and made space for her.

"Fine," she tossed her mane and looked over the sky. "Ready to welcome spring. Foaling in winter has been a bit straining, but all's well at least. Have you seen Zhuri's foals recently. They are exceptionally fine."

Balrog let a genuine smile spread across his face. "I have. They are fine young wind soquili, and growing quickly. Indeed, welcome new arrivals. And Kamiki and Azure brought some foals in as well. The herd is growing fine and strong!" He savored a deep breath of the clean mountain air.



Stormwild just nodded and looked back over the valley below, her mind wandering to Sequoyah. It had been far too long until she had seen him. There was a sadness in her eyes... not the desperation there once was, but the deep chasm of acceptence. Things were better, and even she new that, but the nostalgia still lingered. She would let the new lives the herd was bringing focus her attention to the future.

Balrog wasn't completely oblivious to her pain or the sacrifice that she had made. She had made that perfectly clear during their last argument, and her words still rung clearly through his mind.

"I hope that this new spring brings with it a better year. Thus far it... has been good." The vision was clear in his mind now, all of them - every single member of his herd was airborne... it was truly a glorious thing. And new life was on the way.

first place.


"Yes..." The thought of new life brought her to realizing how much she wished to be a mother again. She looked over to Balrog thoughfully... it was too soon to bring that up with him again. But she could occupy herself with his progeny for the time being. She would make it her personal missong to make sure his colt did not grow up without a mother figure. "How is your basket doing?"

Balrog held his breath for a moment. He was concerned that it was taking as long as it was to emerge. He had in fact had concerns after Anemone left that she was as strong of a figure as he had first assumed. How many characteristics had he ascribed on her that he wanted to see?

"The life inside is still strong... perhaps... he will just be a late bloomer. They say that some of the latest bloomers grow to be the strongest.." They did say that, didn't they? It sounded good to him...

Storm smiled and nodded. "Perhaps he is waiting for the warmth of spring. Its never a good to rush. He will come when he is ready."

He nodded, leaning closer to her with the encouragement. "You.... always had a way with foals." He commented after a pause.

She puffed a bit with pride. "Thanks. I enjoy it... that really means a lot to me."

Balrog even had the decorum to not mention her fist indescretion that had wasted her strong winged heritage. They had butted heads on that in the past... and... well, it was a new spring.

She... always had been the maternal type. His gaze wandered down to where the crimson basket was nestled safely and back over to her. Good things were on the horizon.

 

[Kamiki]

Sabin Duvert

Welcome, Little Prince
Balrog and Stormwild welcome Firestorm to the herd

Spring was finally in the air, even up in the mountainous grasslands that Balrog and Stormwild's herd called their own. The snow had melted everywhere except the highest peaks, and flowers were in bloom. Even the butterflies had returned to kiss the alpine blooms. It was the lush, tender new blooms and perfect skies that brought out the foal inside all the soquili.

It seemed fortoutous then, that it was a mornin such as this that the firey basket that Balrog had been keeping an eagle's eye upon finally began to quiver. He almost hadn't noticed. He had grown so accustomed to it being there, of the days stretching into weeks and months. He had been afraid to give voice to his concerns lest fate make it truth. But perhaps his son had just been biding his time to emerge in the season which would be safest for him.

Balrog was on his feet now, wings spread, and crying out joyfully to the skies. His son was coming. New life was coming with the dawn!


Stormwild was napping under the newly blossoming trees, happily entranced the the smells of spring blooms when Balrog's commotion roused her. He was trotting beside the long-still basket like a young colt. A burden lifted from Storm's spirits already, as she feared the baby inside would perish before emerging. She often checked thebasket for signs of life when Balrog was not looking, terrified of finding it cold and lifeless and having to break the news to him.

But it appeared the time was coming. As Storm came to Balrog's side, she saw for herself the pushing from inside the wicker cave. She nuzzled Balrog and smiled at him supportingly.


Balrog pranced affectionately up to Stormwild. It was rare to see the thick stallion in such a jovial spirit. "Storm!" He rumbled pleasantly as she made her appearence at such a monumentous time.

"It is time! Finally my son is arriving in this world!"

And indeed, the pressings against this basket were becoming more frequent and forceful, as if with each blow, the life inside was gaining strengh.

For Balrog, watching and not interfering with this rite of passage seemed to last years. The worry that the foal was underdeveloped with how long it had taken to emerge. And yet, finally, coal-black hooves tore out of the basket, followed by a golden horn ... and then finally, a coal-and-ember colt tumbled out into the grassy field, blinking into the sunlight.



Stormwild swallowed down a wave of jealousy as the picture-perfect colt tumbled into the light of day. He was everything Balrog wanted - alicorn, strong, and male. She wished she could have given him what he wanted...

..but she forced those thought away. The other mare was gone now, leaving Balrog happily in her dust with his other two children. She would be the only mother this little boy would ever know, and she would take him under her wing as her own. This was still Balrog and her's child, even it didn't come from her womb.

She smiled proudly at her mate and stood back to let him have the first nuzzles. "What shall you call him?"


Balrog's chest swelled as he saw the dusky colt who began to survey this green world around him, and these two face that looked down at him. He gaped a smile, wobbling to his feet dauntlessly despite how high they towered over him. His leonine tail swished behind him as he burbled happily.

Balrog's own firey coloration came through clearly in this foal. He looked to Storm and a smile graced his face.

"He shall be our Firestorm."


Stormwild's own heart swelled at Balrog's purposeful choice of words. "That's perfect," she said, nuzzling Balrog affectionately before turning her attention to the new baby. "Welcome to the world little one."


The colt cavorted closer on overly long legs, not quite getting the movement down perfect, but he was unashamed by his awkward steps.

With a playful smile, he nuzzled against Stormwild's foreleg. Her motherly energy was welcoming to the little colt, who began to look to her for milk.


"Patience, little one," she cooed. She looked up at Balrog and gave a sheepish smile. "We should visit the Shaman soon. She can procure milk for us, there is always a mare nearby that will donate to her."

On that train of thought she paused and shuffled her feet. "Say, have you spoken with Maelstrom recently?"



Balrog nuzzled encouragingly at his son. "He is strong. Healthy. We will feed this stomach of yours soon. It is good that you have an appetite!"

He raised his head, and his brows to Storm. "Maelstrom? Not lately. I have been... keeping watch over this little one waiting for this day. ... Why..?" He asked, concern slipping into his voice. She and his sister had always been wonderful daughters. Intelligent, and valuing the ideals of their herd.


"She has been spending a lot of time with that Wild Wind. She looks different to me. Call it female intuition, but unless I'm mistaken, perhaps she will be able to provide us with what we need." She gave him a knowing smile.


Balrog's brows furrowed for a moment before his eyes widened suddenly. "oh... Oh! Do you truly think?"

His ears pricked. If there were any conceivable way that the day could improve, it would be through news such as that. Maelstrom, his daughter, and Wild Wind... a stallion whose ideals were as if he were born into this herd. The winnter had been bitter.. harsh - those had been trying times for him and for his deal of the herd. This spring seemed to melt away those problems and bring a new dawn to this herd. Things seemed finally attainable.

He leaned against Stormwild, lifting his wing over her back as he spoke down to the colt. "Welcome to a wonderful world, Firestorm. You could not have been born to a stronger, prouder herd."

 

[Kamiki]

Sabin Duvert

A Real Family..?
RP between Arcana, Spellbound, and Kamiki

The days seemed to melt into one strange conglomeration to Arcana since having her foals. Things were tense between her and Taraxippus since they had both come home with baskets. Not that they hadn't been tense in the past - but this only catalyzed things, putting them in almost direct competition for Anju's approval. Tara had always had it, and Arcana couldn't understand why he had to still be so snarky. He accused Grimoire of assaulting his basket - the idea was preposterous - and sometimes she felt like she just couldn't get through to Diogenes. She had wanted so badly for the foals to be a magical fix to all of her problems. Even though the salvation had come in the form of the massive kalona, everything had seemed to make sense.

But... Lycaenidae was quiet, seeming to almost be in her own world, Diogenes had never been exactly 'loving' - and she saw more of his father in him than she cared to admit. He was snappy, especially as he got older - even to his own mother. And Grimoire was generally so sweet, but without any kind of announcement, she would often go off for a spell, and not speak of it. They had all gotten so big, now too - full adults in their own right. And none of them seemed to need her any more. Which just left Arcana feeling empty. Was she a failure as a mother? Had in choosing their father based on the expectations of her own father been a bad idea?

Arcana realized she needed to clear her head. She felt so lonely even when surrounded by her family. They barely talked to her - and Anju seemed to care more about her foals than her. She felt that Taraxippus and Megaera hated her...

These feelings had been building and compounding in her for so long. Finally... as Taraxippus returned from a hunt with his little Seance and shot her a triumphant, mocking glare... it was too much. Arcana got to her hooves, and without a word, without letting Taraxippus gloat or letting herself watch her reactions, she spread her butterfly wings and leapt into the skies.

She went up this time - not in the direction that she had run into him - no.. she went up the mountain where the air got clear and thin. Maybe this time she could find something to help the world make more sense that woudln't wind up hurting her more in the end..



Kamiki and her son, Spellbound grazed lazily on the side of the mountain. The heat was uncomfortable for Kamiki who was born high in the mountains, but Spellbound seemed to revel in it. The heat warmed his wings and gave him the kind of energy Kamiki hadn't had since she was a young foal herself. She could tell Spellbound was getting antsy as she chewed slowly on the summer greens. She gave him an approving nod and the fluttercorn took to the air, flying in long, graceful loops around the field.


The flight was a catharsis of a sort just by itself. Pumping her little wings, zipping through the air in the warm early summer skies... it helped. It was a release of sorts - it cleared her mind and let her focus on the movement instead of her problems.

Then, in the skies ahead, she saw another dark form with a flash of purple.

She slowed, wary at first. There was no telling the attitude of this other soquili. And her interactions with others outside her family group was always a scary thing for her - she had been taught since a foal that she should keep a brave, intimidating front...

Arcana took a deep breath, and flew forward. To turn away would be to show weakness - Anju had drilled that into her.


Spellbound was always happy to meet new Soquili. He looked down at his mother and smiled before zipping over to the newcomer. "Allo there!" he called, circling above her. He dropped down to her height to get a better look.


Arcana's ears shot back instinctively at the sudden arrival of the newcomer. It was hard to puff up and look scary mid-flight, though. And as soon as she got a full look at the stallion, the breath caught in her chest and she nearly lost her air. She'd never seen another soquili quite so like her before. He was dark furred, but beyond that he had the spirial unicorn horn and the butterfly wings.

"Hello..." Arcana replied nervously as she looked him over.


Spellbound fluttered around her, also instantly intrigued by the other fluttercorn. There was something... about her that made him stop. "Hello," he replied. "Haven't seen you around here before?"


Arcana shook her head slowly. "No... I've never flown this way before." She responded softly, brows furrowed as she watched him. But he did look so strangely familiar. "Is... is this you herd grounds? I... I am not tresspassing, am I?" She knew that Anju could be viciously defensive of their family grounds.

"Oh, well maybe technically..." the stallion laughed, "But you don't look very threatening." He tossed the mane out his eyes to get a better look at her. "Are you sure... we've never met?"

"Spellbound?" Kamiki came up behind the two of them, a shocked expression on her features as she looked at the pair. The other mare... she couldn't...? How did she smell so much like Spellbound...

Arcana shook her head, feeling nervous. She really wasn't sure how to act around friendly soquili. She felt bad about being boisterous and aggressive like she had been taught. But then... Anju wasn't looking over her shoulder... "I'm pretty certain not. I... would have remembered meeting someone like you. You... you have a horn, and bug-wings like me!" There was a ghost of a smile.

She turned quickly when she heard another voice, tensing subtly. Was this some sort of trap? But then no, a soft, velvety looking winged unicorn approached, looking... more curious than anything else. "H... Hello..?" Her ears flicked back and she looked between the mare and stallion.

"Bug wings?" Spellbound chuckled, "It's called a fluttercorn..." his voice trailed off as he saw the expression on Kamiki's face. "Mom?"


"What's your name?" Kamiki pleaded. "Who are you parents, little one?"

"Fluttercorn.." She repeated with a smile. "Yes... I do like that better."

She cocked her head with a furrow of her brow. There was a note of desperation in the mare's voice. And there was something about her. Something that settled her, helped her relax and lower that guard.

"My name is Arcana..." She spoke. "And my parents? Well... I.. never really knew my mother. But my father is Anju." She spoke carefully, confused.

"Anju?" Kamiki shook her mane, "I have heard Tisiphone and Ahawi speak of this Anju..." She looked back over the mare. "You do not look like spawn of such a creature as he? Did he tell about your mother? How old are you my dear?"

"Mom," Spellbound prodded. "What's going on?" She was acting surely peculiar.

"Yes, I live with Alecto and Megaera, Tisiphone's sisters..." She nodded, her silvery mane shining in the light at her movements. "And... well... no, I suppose not. He... always was so disappointed in my lack of family resemblance." She didn't know why she was being so frank with the mare, but speaking to her just seemed to come so naturally.

"My brother looks much more like him. Shadowy. He said our mother was a white unicorn. But... I'm not sure where my wings came from. I was born a few seasons ago... it was fall, I believe." She paused, looking over her face. "...Why?"

"A white mare?" Kamiki's eyes narrowed. "Does your Anju have four eyes?"

Spellbound just shook his mane. "Like Sumi-e?" He shifted uncomfortably. "What are you implying, Mom?"

"Four eyes? Oh no! He has six!" Arcana said with wide eyes. "I've never seen another quite like him. Not even our family."

She looked between the two of them again. It was like they knew something that she didn't. "What... what are you two talking about?" she asked with a nervous laugh.

"My brother, Sumi-e, " Spellbound said, "He's white, has four glowing red eyes. I never knew where they came from. You and Dad never would say anything. You both have wings and he didn't..."

Kamki nodded. "We never... we never knew what happened. At first we thought it was just a cruel birth... but now I wonder..." she looked back to Arcana, her wings, her hair. "I think something happened... "

Arcana's mouth opened and closed. They couldn't be implying... but Anju... And Taraxippus... she never fit in. All this time of trying to fit in... Dyson and her foals.... She took a quivering breath.

"You.... can't be saying.." She looked at Spellbound. "Your son... his brother was white with four eyes..." It... it just seemed to make sense. "Who... what is your mate like..?" She could barely speak above a whisper.

"Azure..." Kamiki breathed out, "You're almost a spitting image. He's got a black coat, hair and mane the color of sapphires, and wings... brilliant blue framed in black..."

Spelbound's jaw was slack. "She's shaped just like you, mom," he finally said. "Her jawline, her frame..."

Arcana's eyes widened progressively as she described Azure. "It.. it couldn't be..." She whispered. And then, her adopted sister Megaera... Psyche. "Oh my.. Oh... Oh My!" She shook her head.

"Megaera... she described a stallion just like that. He and she... well... she had foals, one of them stayed with us - Psyche. Anju... father said... she was like.. an 'improved' version of me." Her eyes were moist now and there was an obvious stammer in her voice. But if what this mare was saying was true, Psyche was her sister.... and this mare... her... "mother..?" Her voice cracked as emotion overwhelmed her. All this time... all this time...

"Magaera?" Kamiki exclaimed. "Yes, Azure has fathered foals with a mare with that name."

Spellbound pawed at the ground. "So there...was a mix up when we were baskets? Sumi-e stayed with us... and Anju took this Arcana?"

"It must be.." Kamiki looked back to Arcana. "It all...it makes sense. You're... you must be my daughter..."

For several moments, Arcana was silent. It was too much to take in. Horrible. Wonderful. Anju was so distant, so disappointed always. Taraxippus hated her, looked down on her. She never liked hunting, scaring other soquili. She wasn't like them after all - it wasn't some defect... she was just ... raised by the wrong family. "You're my mother...?" She echoed finally, looking back up at the dark mare. "And you... You are my real brother?" Not some mean, spiteful, manipulative thing like Tara.

What could have happened? It... it didn't really matter. What was done was done. She just wished that she had found this out sooner. They seemed so...nice.

Arcana rushed to Kamiki's side, pressing her face into her neck. "I... Wish ... I wish I had known!" She sobbed.

The moment Arcana buried her face into her neck any and all doubts dashed away. It felt too right... the way she looked, smelled, moved... it all was there. She knew in her heart this was her daughter, and she nuzzled back. A mystery had been solved, and a tear slipped down Kamiki's face as she mourned the time she hadn't been able to spend with her daughter.

Spellbound gave his own whinny, and handsome but dopey grin on his face and he nuzzled his way into the group hug, running his nose over Arcana's shoulder.

 

[Sabin Duvert]

The Proud Wind Family
RP between Maelstrom, Wild Wind, Windstorm, Vortex, and Balrog



RP located here

 

[Sabin Duvert]

New Life in the Herd
RP between Firestorm, Windstorm, and Vortex



RP located here

 

[Sabin Duvert]

Birthrights and Boundaries
RP between Firestorm and Shinoma, and also with Balrog



RP located here

 

[Sabin Duvert]

O Restless Warrior
RP solo with Balrog (happening during the Firestorm, Windstorm and Vortex RP above)

Balrog stood poised on a familiar rocky outcropping that overlooked the foal grounds in his herd's territory. It was a location that Balrog often rested, watching over his family and herdmates. He took his position as protector of the herd incredibly seriously, and this was the best place to keep his eyes on the young foals without them knowing that they were being watched over.

It was also a location that Balrog often went to to think. Here, the voices of his herdmates were subdued below the whistling of the wind. The air was clear, and so were Balrog's thoughts. When he felt troubled, this was where he went. When he needed a new perspective on things, this place was his sanctuary.

Thus, with the seemingly blissful few months that his herd had been reveling it, it was unusual that he would come to this place to think. Something was troubling the stallion. And for a time, it did not come to him. What could possibly be wrong? Stormwild was finally satisfied with his decisions - she had - reluctantly admittedly - sent away her own son Sequoyah along with the other lesser "members of the herd". She had even come to accept Firestorm as their own, even though he came from another mare. Firestorm was full of energy - he could see his own spark of strength echoed in the colt. He listened carefully to his preaching, and he would certainly carry on his ideals. His elder daughter Maelstrom had found an ideal mate in the form of Wild Wind - and they had sired two perfect daughters - strong, bright, and every bit the fiery ladies as their mother and her sister.

For the first time, their entire herd was full of strong, capable, airborne soquili. They were proud, of the best lineages, and mobile.

SO...... what? What was he doing with this? He had realized his dream - they had the perfect herd by every definition he had given. So what was he to do? He and the other members of the herd had kept predators at bay - no cougar dared to hunt in his territory. Even the howling of wolves did not reach the alpine meadow where the foals slept.

Things were.... too easy.

They were strong, and they were relishing in the sound sleep of the powerful. But would that in turn not make them soft? If there were no enemies to best, no predators to escape, then might they themselves grow soft?

Balrog snorted, stamped at the stone with a smoldering hoof.

He was bored. The purest answer.

There was so much potential in his herd, but what was there to do with it? The thought of using it to protect the weak was laughable. It stood against everything Balrog believed. They had no need of expanding their territory - the land here was rich enough to nourish all their members, and expansive enough for all to find a comfortable place to rest and graze. Even during the winter, none had truly gone hungry. Seeking out a challenge in the form of another herd would be foolhearty, and Balrog was no fool.

Slowly, Balrog leaned against the rocky cliff with a heavy sigh. He had dreamed of this for all of his life. And yet... when he had everything he could ever ask for... he found himself suddenly directionless.

"Where do I go from here...?" He asked the whistling winds, letting them carry his inquiry to the Spirits above. "Now that I have the strength, the purity that I have sought.. what do I do with it? Where is my next challenge?"

He grew bolder.

"Is there none that can challenge our strength?"

Perhaps he would regret his words. But Balrog desired, no, he thirsted for a challenge. For a true test of his mettle and strength, and that which he had brought together.  

[Sabin Duvert]

And then the Impossible Happened
RP between Auster and Windstorm (With Balrog - Pending)

RP located here

 

[Sabin Duvert]

Rebellious
RP between Firestorm and Balrog

Firestorm's hooves were poised at the very edge of the ledge, his neck stretched way out as he peered down, down down down at the green valley far below. A chill wind swirled over the cliffs, ruffling his long mane as he grinned down at the specs that he knew were his aunts, uncles, and cousins. They looked so tiny down there, grazing on the grass that was already turning brown with the changing weather. His now-large wings were poised, half extended and helping him balance, but the rush of the cold air through them was wonderful - almost as great as actually flying with them. He lifted a front hoof dangling it over the ledge as well, considering the drop down and whether it would be possible to catch the breeze before he hit the ground, and the expression on Maelstrom's face if he were to buzz her....

"FIRESTORM!" Balrog's voice caught the young stallion like a crash of thunder. "What in the name of the spirits do you think you are doing?" Balrog stormed up on his son with his ears pinned back and a flare of red visable in his nostrils."

Firestorm casually turned around, a laid back smirk on his face. By now, he had gotten used to Balrog's "angry voice", and he wasn't scared. At least he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing it. "Daaa~aad. C'mon! Chill out! I know what I'm doing! I'm a great flier - you know that. Just like all the family." He finished with more than a hint of sarcasm. "What's the point of wings if you don't Test them?"

"You are still young, Firestorm, and I am your father. You would not be the first hotheaded young stallion who overestimated his abilites. If there is not the right updraft then you can still plummet to the ground before you can catch yourself."

Firestorm let out a belabored sigh. "I know, father."

He'd heard this speach before. For as much pride as his father had in him, he certainly didn't seem to have much confidence in him. He was grown now! While maybe he wasn't quite as big as Balrog (yet) his wings were fully developed. He could fly for hours, he'd chased cougars out of the territory before. He'd heard praise from Balrog before, he'd heard criticism. But always so seeerious! Balrog always acted like everything was a matter of life and death. He was quick to point out flaws, and quick to lapse into a rant about the imprtance of this, or the dangers of that. Frankly, Firestorm was bored of it. The last interesting thing that had happened was months ago, when he was still a gawky foal. That rabbit-hunt with the strange filly that challenged him. He had gotten into a lot of trouble with that with Balrog when he had eventually gone home and asked why he hadn't been taught to hunt yet. He guessed that that made sense why it tasted so strange to him, but still... he still had dreams sometimes about that rush of excitement and fear as he chased down the rabbit with more of an intention than to just pin it. And why did that filly seem to get so much enjoyment out of the taste?

All the other soquili in the herdgrounds were old hat to him now. Most of them were related in some fashion or another. He'd heard Balrog's lessons, Storm Wild's advise. He was the golden child of the herd, he knew that. So what? The pride and joy of a herd that hung out and ate grass all day. That flew over the same skies. That chatted with each other about how much better they all were than all the poor ground soquili. Well, Firestorm was better, he certainly wouldn't argue that. But what was the point of being better if you didn't DO something with it? There was energy in his muscles that wasn't sated with just flying. The herdgrounds that had once seemed huge to the foal was now constrictive. He was bored. Things were so easy, so routine....

"But... father, I'm grown now! I can take care of myself!"



Firestorm and Balrog had more in common than either realized. But where Firestorm wanted to get out - to see and experience and to test himself against the world, Balrog was proud of the herd that he had gathered. All of the best and finest blood, all now soquili who agreed with him - who knew the strength of those that were gifted with wings. He had fought for this herd, fought to make it his dream. And now that he had it, he felt at a loss of what was next. He had called out a challenge to the spirits themselves for a challenge to this powerful herd, and nothing. His charges were happy, they were healthy, and they were having foals to be proud of. And now Firestorm - his son - his winged and horned son - was grown and reminded Balrog so much of himself as a young stallion. He was everything he could hope for - and his pride showed to everyone. Balrog did not disguise his favor. Finally, a son to be proud of.
But he and the others had been growin content - used to the daily routine. But while Balrog was now an older stallion, he felt unfulfilled. He had had this great vision that he had achieved, but he felt now empty. That drive that he gotten him to this point now sputtered and sought new direction. A challenge. Something to truly make his mark on the future. Storm Wild would probably be horrified by those thoughts, but Balrog could not help thinking it, nor would he feel sorry for them. He did not have the youthful wander lust any more, but were a challenge to face his herd, he was confident that they could stand the test.. if... there were such a challenge.
He.... could prove to himself that this was the herd that he had meant to be a part of all along. Not like when he was Firestorm's age...

But Firestorm didn't appreciate the strength of his herd. He took it for granted. He was born after the fissure of the strong from the weak. He was born after they had gathered their numbers to form a powerful, proud herd. He was born after they had found the lush grazing grounds high in the mountains. He had all of his father's fire, but nothing to burn. And he was beginin to get an attitude - even towards his own father.

"You are strong, Firestorm, but your strength is defined by the strenth of your family, your herd. The world is a hard place." Balrog responded sternly.



A grunt was Firestorm's flippant response. Another speech he had heard before. Well, how would he get harder if he didn't experience it himself? If he just lazed aroudn the herdgrounds then he would get soft as well. He looked over his shoulder at Balrog again, then, flippantly, he shot him an irreverant grin and steppped over the edge of the cliff. Balrog wouldn't tell him what to do!

His stomach lurched and the wind was all around him. He felt so alive! The ground was rushing up at him like a charging buffalo - and then, probably a hundred feet from the ground, his wings snapped open against the wind, veering him sharply away from the ground. Shrill whinnies from below reached his ears and somewhere back on the wind he could hear Balrog's angry bellows. THAT was living.  

[Kamiki]

Storm & Balrog Have Been Accepted into ELDERHOOD!

Original URL: http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=15039111&page=1

Sabin Duvert

Name of Soquili and Link to Image: Balrog
Balrog's Cert

Link to Teepee:
Sabin's Teepee

Balrog & Stormwild's Herd Thread

Links to RP(s) that show the Soquili has met both the first and second examples of 'what makes an Elder':
Balrog's life has been focused on proving his strength and mettle, not just of himself but of his herd. He started out as a brash, secretly insecure young stallion fleeing from a decimated herd of primarily ground soquili - one being his own mother. He had been seen as a protector of that herd, being the only gifted with wings from a father that had not stayed. In order to cope with his failure, Balrog adopted a scathing opinion of the weakness of ground soquili who could not protect themselves from predators. He set out, seeking other soquili like him - to be surrounded by such strength.
Over time, Balrog joined with Stormwild, a beautiful wind mare who he saw worthy of his affections, after taking it upon himself to point out the error of her ways in mating with a ground soquili.
His herd thread, of which Balrog is the protector, is Here and not only logs most of the RPs of the herd, but also has all of its members and the herd philosophy. He very much considers himself a leader of the herd, and has been instrumental in shaping the ideals of the herd (which were his own) - focusing on the strength of the blood, the power of those soquili blessed with the ability of flight. But over the years, his pride and (some would probably say bigotism) in favor of his own wings has evolved into a pride in his family lines and herd group.

What follows are a selection of RPs that highlight Balrog's story: his development over time and some of the main conflicts and life-shaping incidents:

• Balrog meets Stormwild - The Brash, argumentative young stallion Balrog meets his future mate, Stormwild, and is quite vocal about his ideals.
  
• The Formation of the Herd
  
• A Proposal - In his own headstrong way, Balrog offers to be Stormwild's mate.
  
• Balrog's First Children - Balrog begins to mature with the arrival of children.
  
• The Herd Grows - Balrog is a very important decision-maker in the herd, making sure that new members understand the philosophy and are willing to follow it.
  
• They All Will Pay - Balrog is fed up with ground soquili in his herd and his feeling of being out of control, and his affair with what he perceives is a more like-minded soquili, Anemone.
  
• Stormy Skies - In which there is a fissure in the herd, and Balrog's grand ideal is finally realized. His herd becomes only comprised of winged soquili, the other 'lesser' members of the herd leave.
  
• Aftermath - in which Balrog's future children with Anemone is discussed with Stormwild and decisions are made. Balrog realizes that his herd is most important, and with Stormwild, makes the decision to focus on the future of their herd and the strength of its members.
  
• Welcome Little Prince - Balrog's son, Firestorm, is born and welcomed into the herd by him and Stormwild.
  
• O Restless Warrior - Solo RP with Balrog reflecting on his life and his herd.
  
• Rebellious - A strong son is sometimes more a headache than a boon. Firestorm takes a great deal after Balrog, and not as mindful as Balrog would like. A hint at things to come in the future!
  

Why would your Soquili (IC) choose the Elder path?
Balrog sees himself as more than a role model for his herd, but as a driving force shaping their beliefs. He is a teacher to the foals, instructing them in the ways of the herd, but more than just the power of those with wings, but also valuable life skills. He teachers the young colts how to defend their territory and fledgling foals against cougars and other predators. He teaches the foals how to fly, and how to embrace the winds and exalt in the miracle of flight. He has embraced the teachings of his and the herds' totem, Thunderbird, and seeks to model himself and his herd after his ideals of strength and power.

He sees new life in the herd as the ultimate success. He values the herd and its overall strength above anything else. And he sees himself as an authority in the herd, a source of knowledge and enforcer of the rules. He does not balk at confrontation if he sees it necessary, frequently patrolling the border of the herdlands to ensure its safety.


Why have you chosen the Elder path for your Soquili OOC?
Not only is Balrog my first soquili, but he's become over the years kind of the mascot for my soquili herd and interest. I've commissioned artwork of him (by the artist who did the original soquili lines, Leelakin!) , I've grown very attached to him, and have built up multi-leveld plots around him and his herd and family group. He's evolved as a character, and yet still stayed true to his stubborn nature.

Of all my soquili, he really is the only one I see who truly fits the concept of an elder - both in his position in life and his force of personality. Not only that, but for a long time, I have really wanted Balrog specifically to take on the mantle of Elder.

Despite the fact that he's old enough for me to have had his stats go to 100% automatically when stats were done differently when the shop was new, I lacked the foresight of having a teepee in the early days. While I did RP him before I had a teepee quite regularly, I didn't make a teepee until October of 2007. Since then I've RPd him very regularly and have built his stats up to 100% from that point, and have continued playing him (and certainly will continue to do so!) after that ^.^

Kamiki

Name of Soquili and Link to Image: Stormwild
Link to Teepee: [The Teepee] [The Herd]
Links to RP(s) that show how the Soquili has grown over time, proving his or her development into an Elder:

These are the RPs I think most directly influence Stormwild's progression from a young stubborn filly to a proud, weathered, experienced matron of her own herd:

• Stormwild meets Balrog - Young and heavy with the foals from her union with Couscous, Stormwild meets the pround Wind Soquili that will shape her life forever. This was an in-thread RP on Oct 12 2005.
  
  
• Thoughts - Storm begins to realize the difficulties of raising her non-winged son, making her consider Balrog's words more seriously.
  
  
• Herd is Official - Stormwild and Balrog form their herd, and she stands her ground about letting her son be a part of it, even though he does not have wings.
  
  
• A Proposal - Tensions rise between Sequoyah and Balrog; Balrog offers to be Stormwild's mate.
  
  
• Stormwild gives birth to Barlog's children
  
  
• Sweet Shell of Mine - Stormwild saves a mysterious shell from predators, which turns into a kelpi she adopts as her own. This was an entry to an RP contest that I won during the kelpi event.
  
  
• Sequoyah's Exodus - Sequoyah sees the pain his mother is going through. It's evident she loves Balrog with all her heart, but tensions between the ground and winged members of their herd have come to a head, and he tells his mother he is leaving.
  
  
• Stormy Skies - Balrog and Stormwild have a conversation long-coming: regarding the leaving of their herd by the non-winged soquili, and Balrog's mating with Anemone
  
  
• All things in time... - Stormwild learns to put aside petty jealousy and be strong when Balrog needs her the most, after Anemone leaves.
  
  
• The Coming of Spring - As Stormwild and Balrog wait for his basket to open, they reflect together. For the first time, Stormwild feels her age, but with it - peace.
  
  
• Welcome, Little Prince - Stormwild welcomes Firestorm into her life, accepting him as her son

Why would your Soquili (IC) choose the Elder path? Stormwild feels a deep responsibility for everyone in her herd. She arrived in the Kawani lands as just a young inexperienced filly, but quickly the events in her life swept up around her. She was a mother at a young age, and faced many challenges in raising a son when he could not share the skies with her.

She has fallen in love with a stallion who both challenges her and completes her. Her relationship with Balrog has not always been affectionate, or even kind. She has learned the hard way that love is complicated and trying. Balrog has brought out the best in her: her beauty, her strength, her courage. Through their tumultuous relationship she has learned to mature and rise above a painful situation.

She has experienced the sharp pain of sacrifice, and the soothing success of compromise. For her herd to survive, Sequoyah had to break away from it, and he took all the other non-winged with him. Sequoyah made the choice for her, but she had to eventually learn to accept the fact that her son's exit from the herdlands was necessary to keep the herd strong and true to its heritage. However, her children are not far from her; Sequoyah making his own herd in the valley at the base of the mountains. Storm makes an effort to visit them frequently, and would gladly fight to the death for any of them.

Her life has been a true journey, and you can see real growth in her attitude and view on the world. Being an Elder would feel so right to her. Being a Soquili who has experienced so much, she would feel that she had wisdom and knowledge to lead many more generations of Soquili to their paths.

Why have you chosen the Elder path for your Soquili OOC? First of all - she's old! xd I got her on September 2, 2005. Not only was she my first Soquilil, she was the first Wind Soquili in the shop, and won from the first custom auction. I've made an effort to RP her over all my other Soquili and she's still my most treasured ones. Playing Stormwild ICly, I won an RP contest with her during the kelpi event, which is how I got Mahi. I feel that she's perfect Elder material because of her long life, wisdom, and experiences. Of course her stats are all at 100% - I feat she made before the major overall of how stats are calculated. She has been the constant in my life at Soquili, and I want nothing more for her than to finish her journey with such an honor!

Soquili

After much deliberation, we have come to our decision.


The following have been accepted into Elderhood:


Balrog, roleplayed by Sabin Duvert
[shall be colored by Merangue]

Bella, roleplayed by Uta
[shall be colored by Natsube]

Draven, roleplayed by Skye Starrfyre
[shall be colored by Endejester]

Eloran, roleplayed by Talencia
[shall be colored by Lilwolfpard]

Helaku, roleplayed by Excited Apathy
[shall be colored by Lilwolfpard]

Nagual-An, roleplayed by EchoLimaFoxtrot
[shall be colored by King Inversitle]

Stormwild, roleplayed by Kamiki
[shall be colored by Sirenz]

If any of you would like a tattoo added to your Soquili, please PM your colorist within 24 hours to let them know which tattoo is to be added on to your Elder. If you prefer no tattoo, then please disregard this note.







To the rest who participated, we want to thank you all for applying, and please please do not be discouraged. Many of you are on the right path to having your Soquili meeting the Elder criteria, and a couple of you are extremely close to achieving the status. A few things we noticed that entries lacked were:

- roleplay outside of family. While development is key and a Soquili's family is a wonderful way to achieve that development, an Elder is a role model and leader in the community, not just in the family. Have your Soq get out more and RP with others! Have your Soq give advice, or be put in a situation where they perform a role an Elder would do. Would they give advice, assist a creature in need, take charge in a dire situation?

- develop the role of a leader. Many of the entries did wonderfully in showing the development of the Soquili's character, from the start up until the current point in time. Part of that development, however, to prove worthy of Eldership, needs to show your Soquili as a capable leader figure. This can be developed through further roleplay where your Soquili takes charge, or finds him/herself in situations where a leader is needed.


This is not a competition, so we do not want any of you to walk away feeling as though you've "lost" in this application process, if your Soquili was not approved for Eldership this round. Just as in this opening, we have every intention of keeping the applications from being limited, so that all who are qualified for the honor will receive it, and none will be turned away due to slot limitations. Consider this as an opportunity to have your Soquili progress to the next stage of their life, where they are judged against themselves and not against other contenders. With effort and hard work, most Soquili who possess the desire and ability to be a leader in the community are capable of achieving the status of Elder.

We will open another round for applications in the next few months, and we hope to see you try again in the upcoming opening. <3

 

[Sabin Duvert]

Hoofbeats in the Sky
RP Firestorm, Balrog, Hephaestus, Tyzeaph

RP located HERE
Balrog and Firestorm reunited with his other two sons that had been raised by their mother, Anemone.

 

[Sabin Duvert]

A Coming Storm
RP with Firestorm, Balrog, Stormwild, Kumiho, Cerberus, and Thunderbird

Firestorm was brimming with pride as sailed into the herdgrounds, the wind in his wings. Adeptly, he made a large arc barely ten feet above the ground over the heads of grazing herdmembers, many of whom looked up with glares at the hotheaded young stallion as he buzzed overhead.

Finally, he touched down, folding his wings with an overt gesture a few feet away from where Stormwild and Balrog had been standing.

With a prideful grin, he shook out his mane. "Sorry if I interrupted your nap." He started sarcastically. "But I was... you know, out. There's land outside our little herdland hideaway."

Stormwild swiveled her ears forward. "Of course there is," she said, trying not to feed into his sarcasm. She took a sigh, and shook out her own mane a bit. His comment and all its intended implications bit a bit close to home for her: she had been feeing her age recently. She felt heavy and moody... and watching FIrestorm flit around above her head with all his grace and enthusiasm that youth brings made her uncomfortably jealous. When he was a baby, Storm had happily taken the colt under her wing... but as he grew older, more independent, and sassy - her patience with him ran thin. Every glint of the sunlight off his long horn, or stomp of his distinctly stockinged legs struck a chord deep within Stormwild.

"This is still your home," she said to him pointedly. "You should stay for a while this time. You have sisters and herdmates who love your company."


Balrog rustled his wings with a leveled look at Firestorm. The young stallion was testing them, Balrog was well aware of this fact. He tested Balrog's tenuous patience, flaunted his gifts and strength, and seemed to never be satisfied. He never understood just how hard Balrog had fought for this land, how he had collected this group of the strongest soquili. Just how priviledged he truly was to have the best herdgrounds that Balrog had ever seen: Sheltered, protected, and fertile. Balrog would defend it with his life. A part of him almost wished for the opportunity, because it would be a chance to prove his mettle - and the mettle of his carefully chosen herdmembers.

"what is so important, Firestorm?" Balrog rumbled, his mannerisms declaring a warning for his son's deliberate carelessness.



"Pfft." Firestorm responded with an irreverant puff of air in his bangs. "all they do is sit and eat." Firestorm rolled his eyes. "There are wide blue skies, waterfalls... challenge and excitement out there!" His neighed.

"Maybe if they shared my enthusiasm, they'd come with me. But! No. At least I found someone who did." He gave his parents a toothy smile, teasing, taunting, waiting for them to inquire.



"Spring is coming," Stormwild said to her adopted son. "Hopefully there will be foals coming soon, they have greater responsibilities to the herd than gallivanting around." Her ears flicked back at the mention of this elusive 'someone.' There was a flutter of both anticipation, and jealousy, at the prospect of Firestorm taking a mate. She longed for the sound of more foals around her herd... though she had yet to muster the mettle to bring it back up with Balrog. They were on good terms, make no mistake, just Storm was not completely sure where they stood on that aspect of their relationship since he had sired foals with Anemone. He seemed happy with Firestorm - a strong stallion with wings and more...

She snorted with a sigh, this was not the time to get lost in her own meandering thoughts. Please, she found herself silently asking of the Wind itself, say he's bringing home a nice winged mare. She feared the anger and arguing that would ensure from Balrog if not.

"So who is this someone you speak of, Firestorm?"



Firestorm rolled his shoulders. He wasn't going to knock the responsibility of raising foals, especially considering his intentions with Shinoma... but he cared little for the pleasantries of talking with his relatives about more pending relatives. The lovey-dovey relationships of some of the couples. With Shinoma, it was different. It was exciting, electrifying, challenging.

Thinking of her made him grin.

"She's fantastic. Not at all like you guys. She's daring, bold, and fierce!" He spread his wings for emphasis. He darted his eyes around quickly, as if to make sure she wasn't somewhere nearby and listening. She would probably scoff if she heard him praise her. With the two of them, it was a contest, and he didn't want to seem weak to her by lauding her praises.

"She taught me how to hunt, you know!" He sniffed. Sure, he didn't actually like the taste of the meat like she did, but chasing after animals was a thrill. Long before Balrog had shown him how to defend their territory from cougars, he had hunted a rabbit with the filly.

"Her name is Shinoma, and she's not like anyone around here, that's for sure. Her wings are smokey, and shaped like a bat - but she can fly just as well as I can." Firestorm made sure to mention her wings proudly. He knew his father's ideals, and he shared them. He would never lower himself to associating with a weaker soquili, one that could not fly.

Balrog listened, his brow creasing as he mentioned a hunt. Did he mean chasing off predators that might prey on the young foals? But his demeanor relaxed a bit when he mentioned her wings. He let go of the air that he had been subconsciously holding onto.

Smokey bat-wings? This sounded odd to the stallion, but there were soquili that he had welcomed to his herd with strange wings - wings like bugs - but who had proved themselves worthy of the skies and able to maneuver their alpine herdgrounds.

Stormwild listened on next to her mate, her tail flicking behind her . Her brows creased and a frown tugged at her mouth as he continued however. Balrog's sigh of relied only discontented her more - did he not realize what his prince son was speaking of.

"Wait," she finally said, stepping forward. "Hunt? Wings of a bat? Firestorm are you consorting with kalona?" She shook her head, not liking where this conversation was going one bit.


Firestorm scowled at his step-mother's disapproval. She had wings. His father seemed satisfied by that fact. So why did his mother of all soquili - who he had heard had consorted with a ground soquili once before she knew better - the one to look shocked.

"I don't know." Firestorm tried to make the admission of ignorance sound like a retort instead of an admission. "She has wings. And she has more spirit than half the fat, lazy soquili around here! I LIKE her. And she gets me." His tail flicked

Balrog had been happy to hear that his son had enough sense in his head to at least choose a worthy mate, but all of the insults about their herd was driving a nail into his hoof.

"You do not speak about your herd like that. You come from the strongest herd in the lands, and if you cannot see that that is good enough, then you are blind and have not seen enough of the world around you to make such a judgment.

"Firestorm, you can do so much better," Stormwild chided, trying to swallow her anger after the tirade of insults. "You have no business with their bloody kind... hunting? Really, son. That's below you. Maybe... maybe you and Arcana can spend some time together. She needs a nice... uh, stable stallion life yourself. It would be good ... for both of you."


Firestorm flattened his ears with a sneer. "Arcana?" He winced. The little fluttercorn was ... special. Nervous and awkward, and always seemed to have a knack at sayin the wrong thing to everyone.

"You don't even know her!" Firestorm protested. "And Arcana? Geez, Stormwild, what do you take me for? Pushing me towards that charity case?" He didn't care who heard him.

Balrog looked to Stormwild, brow furrowed. "Bloody kind..?" Balrog had encountered little of the other races of soquili other than the ones that had found homes in their herd. He had not heard of the legends of the Kalona.

"Watch your tongue, Firestorm," she said harshly, taking a step towards him. "Every member of this herd should be treated like family, something you have a terrible time understanding. Everything isn't always about you - you have a responsibility to this whole herd. Especially being the son of the Alphas. You should take your position deathly serious - from the words you speak to the mate you choose - it effects all of us."


"You're not my REAL mother, and you can't tell me what to do!" The words flew from Firestorm's mouth like wasps. His eyes burned with indignance. "And you're right - I AM important! I can make my own decisions. I'm not a foal any more! I know what's good for me - and it's Shinoma!" His wings began to spread.

"Don't speak to your mother like that!" Balrog raised his voice to a crashing thunder.

Firestorm just glared. "And you! You think you're so powerful? You're SCARED!" He retorted at Balrog. "You're scared to leave your magical herdgrounds where you might meet some REAL powerful Soquili." He grinned cockily. "I AM strong, Father. Congradulations. And I've got the courage to face that world!"

"I am, too, your mother!" Stormwild bellowed back, stomping her hooves on the ground. "You have no business out there. Your world is the herd! Do you hear me? You will respect - if not me - your father and learn your place! And that's here with your herd and your family and not risking damaging your whole bloodline by dealing with dangerous flesh eaters!"


Firestorm's wings snapped open. "I don't have to take this from either of you!" Firestorm shouted back. "I'll SHOW you that I know what I'm doing!" The words were just tumbling out of his mouth without bothering to check in with his head. Firestorm was furious.

Without even stepping back, his wings began to beat, stirring up a wind in the glade and Firestorm lifted off the ground.

"You'll see!" He shouted down at them as he took off.

"FIRESTORM! You get back here!" Balrog shouted up at his son. "This is your home!"

But Firestorm wasn't listening any more. He was gaining his speed, and flying out towards the waterfall at the edge of their territory.


Stormwild's wings snapped open as well, but she restrained herself from flying after the hot-headed young stallion. She gave a heavy sigh, and shook out her mane. "Let him go," she said calmingly to Balrog, gently touched his back with her outstretched wings. "He'll be back... he just needs to blow off steam."

She was quiet for a few moments "I'm worried about this kalona girl," she said, looking to him.



Balrog, indeed, was about to take to the skies himself to try to force Firestorm to land, but at the touch of his mate, he flattened his ears and rustled his wings, returning them to his sides.

"I hope you are right." Balrog rumbled. "But Firestorm is strong. I may not know much about her, but I'm sure he can handle a mare."

"It isn't a matter of strength," she said, a bit incredulous that he wasn't as upset as she was about this - especially since Balrog was so obsessed with the unity and strength of their herd. "Kalona come from demonic heritages, they are corrupt. They feast on the flesh of animals - I've even heard other Soquili. They come from the underworld."


"Demons?" Balrog asked incredulously, with only a hint of skepticism creeping into his voice. He had never known Stormwild to judge, but there was honest horror and disgust in her words. An ear flicked back indecisively. But he had confidence in his bloodline, in Firestorm's strength, as much as the young, hotheaded stallion aggravated him. And secretly, deep down, a part of Balrog thirsted for the challenge. He had shouted one to the heavens many months ago. Had they heard his call? ... Did he regret it?

"I think I should like to see one of these demons. See if their stories live up to the reality." A smug smile settled on his lips. Balrog may not have been a spring stallion any more, but he was seasoned, experienced, and knew these lands better than any other. Woe be it to any who challenged him or threatened his herd.

***************************************************

The days passed, and there was no word from Firestorm. Balrog seemed to be distracting himself by scouring the Kawani lands for these demonic Kalona he learned of, while Stormwild was left milling about the herdlands, feeling fat and useless. She wished, just for once, that Balrog and herself would see eye-to-eye on... something. She had no doubt in her mind that Firestorm was strong enough to "handle" a kalona mare, but if was the offspring she worried about. Would Firestorm try to bring his new mate in as part of the herd? If not, would he bring the baskets back to the mountain? Would she allow that? Or would the kalona steal off with them? This worried Storm the most. She already had too many sons and daughters (and grandchildren) lost to her... she didn't want to lose any more. She wanted them here... in their herdlands.

Or was Firestorm done with them forever?

She doubted that was the case... but his mother was obviously a flaky mare with no sense of loyalty. Why would Firestorm be any different?

But after nearly a week without Firestorm, Sequoyah and Xandir made their way up the mountain with disturbing news: skinwalker attacks were on the rise.

There was a smudgy black skinwalker that had lurked around the mountain base for a while, but apparently he was spotted several times with a more brightly colored walker wrecking havoc. Thankfully Sequoyah's herd had been expertly defended by Sumi and himself, but the reports of other not-so-lucky Soquili were numerous.

Stormwild nearly made herself sick with worry. She immediately made off - looking for Firestorm and her other lost children. She just had to make sure they were okay... even if she couldn't convince them to come home. Xandir opted to stay with Balrog's herd for the time-being, while Sequoyah went back to his Alpha duties of his own herd at the mountain base.

Stormwild had been gone for many days when the storm hit: A wintery surprise blizzard that hit the high altitudes of the mountain hard.


Balrog had barely returned from one of his increasingly longer scouting missions when the Blizzard was rolling in, effectively grounding him and the rest of the herd. When he learned of Stormwild's departure, anger and frustration boiled inside of him, tinged with a worry that he would not admit to. Between the dangerous predators on the lands, and the blizzard that would likely keep her from the skies, it was a bad situation.

And indeed, even further down into the forest, the heavy snows adeptly penetrated the barren tree boughs. It was as if the land itself was sending a fierce reminder that winter was not over, and that it had at least one more good show of it.

Locating Sequoyah's tribe was not a difficult feat. Their herdlands were stable, situated just down the mountain from the aerial herd. But for all of the white that blanketed the land, there was no telltale flash of red or yellow that might indicate the young stallion that Stormwild searched for.

And as the snows got heavier, so did Stormwild's weight on her feet. Only now did she realize how swollen she had become, and that the roundness of her belly did not indicate a sedentary lifestyle or ample food, but something much more significant...

Even were the blizzard to cease, Stormwild had grown heavy, likely too heavy to take to wing. There were predators out there, and she needed to find baskets, and soon.

And so it was... sometime later Stormwild was hunkered down under a large tree, shielding herself and her baskets from the slowly waning winter winds. She had no idea how she was going to get home with baskets in tow - especially in the snow. But as weak and worried as she was, she nestled around her warm baskets and felt a serene calm wash over her.

But it was to be short-lived. Lurking in the forest not too far away two creatures were following her trail, and the scent of blood in the air...




These were indeed dangerous lands. The stories of two skinwalkers sighted in the region that Stormwild had heard were not the only threats that stalked these frozen woods.

A dark shadow fell over the virgin snow, followed shortly after by a large, pawed foot. Dozens of gleaming red eyes set into dark fur scanned the wastelands,looking for food for himself and the slighter, paler figure that padded quietly by his side.

His mistress.

The hunger that clawed at his belly was a familiar sensation. Freedom was not. And thus, he had easily fallen into the clutching employ of the twisted skinwalker, Kumiho, who now followed behind him as if goading him on with invisible reins.

She, too, was hungry. And if anything, that only made her temper worse.

The kitsune's eyes narrowed as she padded on, a grimace plastered on her face as she followed behind the large, shadowy figure of Cerberus. She did not follow as an act of submission; indeed it was quite the opposite. It allowed to watch his every move, every ear p***k, and every exhale of his hell-hot breath as it fogged in front of him like draconic smoke. She was hungry and uncomfortable, not used to spending so long in her horse form. She preferred the quick, warm, agile, and unassuming form of her fox nature. But now her belly was heavy with foals - forcing her to lumber around in her larger, but more awkward equine shape.

Pregnancy for her was a strange, reeling experience. She felt no maternal warmth for the kicking, heavy bodies inside her; but she did have a vague, intangible feeling of... duty? Perhaps a bit of pride. Some kind of distant satisfaction that the spawn between herself and Cerberus would grow up to be proxies of herself - able to spread her influence behind her mortal capacity.

But on the other hand, the uncomfortable weight, insatiable appetite and raging hormones was maddening. There were times she was barely conscious of her own actions... slipping into the blood-lust of that of her reviled more base skinwalker kin. Every twist of agonizing pain made her so angry at Cerberus for doing this to her she almost ripped his throat out, and she had considered more than one wrenching her unborn children out of her belly herself.

She was teetering on the razor's edge now. She was starving and growing more ill-willed by the second. "Something is close - up ahead," she said lowly to her charge. "I smell blood - I don't care what it is... I want it."



Cerberus didn't turn his head to look back at his mistress as she snarled her demand. He didn't need to. He smelled the blood in the air as well. It was not fresh blood, but whatever had shed it was still nearby. He could sense the heavy horse-smell of a soquili in the frigid air. The snows tended to bring weak, skittish prey. But finding something already injured would be a true boon.

"Of course." Cerberus responded dutifully. He had found it almost too easy to slip back into a subservient manner. When he was roaming these lands purposeless, his mind was in chaos. Everythin seemed to whisper at him, pull him in different directions. The snapping maws on his shoulders barking their hunger, their distrust, and any number of cacaphonous demands or greivances. Kumiho was a single voice to heed. He could just DO.

And of course, the hunger was panging in his belly as well. He could almost taste the horseflesh already.

He drew his wings in tightly to his sides, stepping more quietly and trying to slip his bulk more deftly through the woods so as to not alert whatever morsel lay ahead.

Twenty yards... fourty, sixty... and then, he could make it out - a large dark shape laying on the ground. It was a mare, and a large one at that, with large wings that looked burdoned by the snowfall. But... no... it was more than that. Nestled in around her like the walls of some two-legged fort were baskets. Four of them.


Kumiho stalked up beside him, crouching her head and plastering her ears against the back of her head. Her nostrils flared and her mouth began to salivate at the anticipation of the kill. But as the scene solidified, something moved deep within her... a lurch in her belly and the sudden realization of the opportunity that lay before her. "Wait," she hissed, reaching out and latching to Cerberus's hindquarters with her paw, "The baskets. I need them..." There was a rumble through her stomach at the thought of what a nutritious honeypot they would be. A long, toothy grin spread happily across her pale face. "We need them... by any means possible - but they must stay in tact..."


Cerberus rumbled a growl of assent, not caring if the mare heard him. Exhausted from what looked like a recent birthing, this should prove a simple task. Immediately, he understood what the skinwalker wanted. She would need baskets of her own for the foals that she would be birthing soon... the tiny foals already in these baskets would help theirs grow stronger...

Cerberus didn't think about the consequences or the morality behind what he was about to do. It was a job. It was for his mistress, and for his children. His ears lay back against his furry neck, and he stalked forward with a sickening growl in his throat.

********************************************

By the time the blizzard had abated enough for Balrog to take to wing, worry was already making him nauseous. Stormwild had been gone far too long, and while the snows had likely kept her grounded wherever she was, he did not like the idea that she had been gone for so long with apparently dangerous creatures on the prowl. He did trust in her strength, but without the advantage of flight, and by herself, anything could have happened.

Balrog spent days searching for his mate. But the lands were vast, and every dark shadow on the ground, or inlet in the rock could hide the mare that he found himself desperately searching for.

Finally, finally, his eagle-eyes spotted a very familiar dark shape with tinges of lavender and purple, nestled down in a small grove in the woods. But it felt as if his stomach would lurch out of his throat when he saw a distinct reddish color staining the snow around her.

He drew his wings in closer and made a quick descent to the small clearing, heart pounding in his chest.

Closer he came, and more horrifying began to unfold. The snow in the clearing was scattered - evidence of a long and brutal fight. Mud and blood was mixed heavily throughout, turning the whole clearing into a brownish battlefield. Strangely, among the remnants of the skirmish were several shreds of wicker and feathers... Stormwild herself lay off to the side, her legs tucked under her and her wings splayed, limp and lifeless, by her side. Her mane and tail were soaked through, a nasty, unsavory color like the ground. Her eyes were closed... but, ever so slightly, her torso rose and fell with shallow breath.


"Stormwild! Stormwild!" Balrog called, surprised to hear the frantic timbre of his voice as he prodded her gently with his nose.

The destruction in the clearing told a story that chilled him to the core. Why did she leave the herdgrounds without him? Who had done this? And what froze the very blood in his veins was the sign of wicker. She couldn't have been... could she...? But now... there was so much blood...

"Storm!" He cried, carefully picking up one of her wings to try to rouse her.



She stirred ever so slightly at his prodding, turning her head in an attempt to move the hair from covering her eyes. A tremble later and she had one of her front hooves moved out from under her, trying to gain footing. She didn't say anything, her eyes blinking slowly under a veil of hair plastered to her face by blood. As Balrog lifted one of her limp wings from the puddle of mud-soaked snow, a surprising sight revealed itself. Half-buried, completely concealed by her wing, a sing basket was wedged into the war-torn ground. It was relatively in tact, though frayed in several points, with wicker steams flayed in various directions and covered in splatters of blood.


She moved. Relief flooded over Balrog to see that she was indeed still alove, but for how long? How badly was she injured? "Storm.." He murmured more quietly. "What... who... how...?"
But as she lifted her wing the rest of the way, he spied the basket, and his breath caught in his throat. He swallowed, looking about. The blood on the snow had frozen, this could not have been that fresh. Pawprints and hoofprints scraped and scuffled the ground all over the clearing. A shudder traveled down his body as a memory he had tried for so long to suppress flitted through his mind of another scene that was all too familiar to this one.

But she was alive. There was still hope. He could mourn the loss of what must have been other baskets later.

He sniffed the air, and while the scent of blood was heavy in the clearing, it was old. He coudln't smell any predators.

"I need to get help." He rumbled. A shaman, one of the horned members of their herd, anyone.

"Don't leave," she managed to say weakly, managing to maneuver her other hoof from underneath the weight of her body. She rolled and tried to distribute her weight evenly so she could attempt to get up. Her voice and body were shaky, but she attempted to get onto all fours regardless. Her wings still hung limp by her sides, dragging in the mud and she slowly go to her feet, leaning hard against Balrog, her head hung low and seemed unable to look him in his eyes.

Balrog winced as she summoned the effort to get to her feet, trying to help support her as she shifted her weight. He could see bruising, bits of flesh and fur turn away where it looked like claws or teeth had raked her. A part of him felt that he should be angry with her - for leaving without telling him. Going out where it was dangerous alone and.... with foals...? Had ... she really been pregnant? Balrog couldn't believe that he hadn't have noticed. Had he really been that distracted? Or had this been another situation of Stormwild's charity? In the past, she had taken responsibility for stray baskets - even those of weaker races.

But, seeing her like this. The anger fizzled and died. In his youth, perhaps, it would have been able to break past that sensation of pity and worry. But now, Stormwild's heath was forefront in his mind.

He swallowed, feeling drawn. He was no healer. He was a warrior. But he couldn't leave her side - not when she asked him like that to stay.

So he did his best to lift or support as she got to her feet. "Do... you think you can walk?" He winced.
His eyes went to the basket. He wouldn't ignore the elephant in the room. "What... happened...?" He tried to meet her eyes.


"In a minute," she breathed out, trying to steady herself on her own four hooves... slowly trying to take her lean off of Balrog and stand steady on her own. It took her a while, but she finally managed to maintain her own weight, though her balance looked shaky. "They're all gone," she said with a heavy and remorseful voice, eyes looking out over the battleground that lay before her. A few feathers blew in the winter wind, dancing on the breeze before whisking away into the forest. Storm lowered her head even more in sorrow, tucking her wings to her side. She either didn't see the half-mud covered basket, or didn't seem to know it was there. She tried to make a few steps, and despite an obvious limp, seemed to be able to walk.. slowly.

She still didn't seem to watch to Balrog in the eyes, or elaborate more on the situation. It seemed obvious enough to her what had happened...or perhaps she was just too ashamed.


Balrog's face creased heavily in concern. "I didn't know you were..." he stopped himself. Maybe they hadn't been theirs. Maybe they were foundlings she fought to protect. An ear flicked back. If that was the case, she shouldn't have interjected herself. It was dangerous and not her responsibility... but it wouldn't have been out of character for Stormwild.

He watched her move forward like a foal trying to walk for the first time, her weight askew, and trying to favor more than one leg. He hated to interrupt her, to call her back, but....

"But what about that one...?" He gestured with a wing to the muddy basket.


Stormwild finally looked up at him through her straggly mane, a look of confusion crossing her face. "What?" She followed his gaze down to the basket and Stormwild looked as if she might collapse once again. "No... it couldn't be. They... they got them all..." She stumbled over to it, leaning down and taking hold of the top of the basket and gently pulled. The wicker receptacle made a slight sucking noise as it came free, dripping a red-colored liquid from it as Storm placed it delicately on the ground. "I swear..." she looked utterly confused, her disbelief obvious. "There were two of them... two hideous creatures... a walker..and..and.. something worse..."


Balrog swallowed as he listened. He glanced back to the basket, battered and dripping and winced. Even if it was still here and in tact... could it really still hold a living foal?

"Are you certain..?" He asked gently, knowing that she must have been through hell, and hesitant to pry further into the situation. "Maybe they missed it... in the mud...?"


"I don't... " she was stunned, trying to shake clear her muzzy head and remember the details. "I don't remember," she said, barely audible.

She nosed the basket, taking every inch of willpower not to lose her composure. She picked it back up, holding the sogging basket in her mouth and began slowly walking in the general direction of home.


Balrog swallowed and nodded. The most important thing right now would be to get Stormwild... and the basket... back to somewhere safe. It was a hard path up to the herdlands on the ground. Balrog had made sure of that when they had picked the location. But it was possible. It would probably take a few days with her injured like this. He ... hoped she could make it.

Balrog walked close by Stormwild, and went to make an effort to take the basket from the injured mare, but seeing the expression in her eyes, he drew back. He matched her pace, never taking her eyes from her, but trying to subtly offer her a shoulder here where a footstep faltered, or a guiding wing. He didn't know what else to say, so he walked in silence.

Stormwild eventually, every several days, began to speak in short bursts about the attack - there was a vicious pale skinwalker and a large, menacing beast she described as a horse-sized wolf with wings of terror and a thousand evil eyes. The attack was brutal and quick, and after a long fight she finally drew them off, but collapsed afterwards. She admitted that her memory was hazy, and that she was nearly certain all her baskets had been destroyed by the skinwalkers.

"Honestly," she had some at some point to her mate, "I was beginning to convince myself that I had no baskets at all... that I had imagined them." She looked so incredibly sad, but her voice and body grew stronger by the day. "I had even convinced myself that it was all a dream, until you found it."

She was referring of course to the damaged basket that nestled between them every night. Remarkably, once the mud, snow, and blood had dried and flaked off, the basket was looking better by the day. Perhaps a bit frayed, but it maintained its weight, it's warmth, and one could feel the dull, magical pulse of life from deep within. Though it took considerably longer than most baskets, the drab. dark grey basket began to slowly take on some of the colors of it's caretakers - and by the time they had reached the base of their mountain home, the orange and purple runes slowly began to glow, causing Stormwild to smile for the first time since Balrog had found her.




Balrog displayed an almost uncharacteristic amount of patience as he helped Stormwild back to the herdgrounds - the long way. There was only one ground path up to the alpine plains, and it was not easy to navigate, even by an uninjured soquili. But there was a reason they had a path like this. Like when his grandaughter had brought another injured stallion up to their herd to rest and repair his wings. Balrog never thought he would have to use the path himself, but he had made a point to learn it. And.. he was glad that he had been convinced out of destroying the path to ensure that only the winged could reach their hideaway. Instead, they had just disgused the path, ideally so only those that knew it could find it.

Balrog wasn't sure, when Stormwild finally did speak of the nightmare, that it would have been better or worse had she dreamed the baskets. He mourned their loss.... their children... but... one had miraculously survived... somehow? But it didn't seem to make sense how or why.

But when the familiar colored runes slowly came to life on the basket, a warmpth filled Balrog's heart. Maybe there was a reason the spirits had watched out for this little one.

 

[Sabin Duvert]

Winds of Change
RP with Firestorm, Balrog, Stormwild, Cataclysm and Thunderbird

Balrog stood at the edge of the bluff that overlooked the alpine valley that served as the common grounds of their herd. The foaling grounds, the wider stretch of land where the most succulent grasses grew. The place that his herd bedded down to rest at night, in clear view of a protector who watched over them.

This was his herd... his family.

This was the same place that Balrog had, many seasons ago, cried a challenge to the spirits to let him prove the mettle of his herd. And it seemed as if some malicious spirit might have heard his challenge. But instead of a test that might prove their mettle, it came in the form of dissent - Firestorm leaving the herd to be with a mare that Stormwild did not approve of. And it came in the form of vicious beasts that had attacked his mate when she was alone and vulnerable... with foals. It was these monsters that had wreaked havoc on his own progeny. Or perhaps it was his own arrogance. Thinking his herd immune from predators... But when he had let his guard down, once again... there was death.

Balrog caught sight of a figure heading towards the herdgrounds and took to wing to meet them. He had been on full alert since he and Stormwild had finally made it back home. He had barely slept, making sure that she was always in his sights. That the remaining basket was kept safe.

She was healing, thank the spirits, and the basket still seemed to miraculously hold life within. He would not let anyone take that from him.

The figure approaching was Cataclysm - who had also left the herd temporarily in a state of unrest. She never went far, or stayed gone for that matter, but she had been lonely and fussy and had taken to exploring beyond the herdlands for weeks at a time. She saw her father approaching and felt a twinge of apprehension and nervousness roll over in her stomach. She splayed her wings in the wind and swooped down to meet him, clearing her throat closing her eyes for a moment to compose herself.

"Father," she acknowledged with a smile.


Balrog sighed with relief as he saw the figure resolve into the familiar form of Cataclysm. She was back, and safe by the looks of it. He nodded a greeting to her and angled his flight downwards to the herdgrounds, down near where Stormwild rested.

"It is good to see you well, Daughter." he responded as he touched down.



"Very well," she said, tossing her braided mane back out of her face as she touched down next to Balrog. "So well, actually," she said in her usual haughty tone, "that you might be surprised." She gave a little snort. "I've been busy, as you may or may not have noticed, I've been out a lot recently. Since I've been abandoned by my sister, I wasn't content to just sit around and be ignored any longer."

She flicked her tail, watching him closely out of the corner of her eye, watching his expression. "I've been meeting new Soquili," she said, "All the wonders of the wind aren't isolated to our one herd."


Balrog's eyes narrowed skeptically. HE had heard similar from one of his offspring just recently. Firestorm and the demon-mare that hye had still yet to see with his own eyes.

"I have noticed, my daughter. And I am well aware that the lands and skies extend beyond our borders. But no land is finer than our home. Remember that this is your home, Cataclysm. And surely, you have not been abandoned by your herd. Maelstrom has merely found a find stallion to share her life with, and brought him into this herd." Balrog was not entirely oblivious of the dynamics of the members of the herd. He remembered how close that his daughters had been for most of their young life. But Maelstrom had been spending a majority of her time with her mate and her own daughters since their arrival. But still, such things did not mean that she no longer loved her sister.



Cata's expression seemed to darken with the mention of Mael and her perfect wonderful stallion. "I'm not leaving," she basically mumbled, snorted again, trying to gain the courage to say what she wanted to...what she needed to. "But I have too have found a stallion," she said with a resolute nod. "A stunning one," much more impressive than Wild Wind, she barely managed to hold back. "One like i've never seen, Father. He's like a ghost..." she swallowed, "Something greater than a mere mortal stallion."


Balrog tilted his head as he listened to Cataclysm, and heard the marvel in her voice. "A ghost, you say?" Had his daughter truly seen a phantasm. He had noted her jealousy. Was her story even real, or had she wished for a suitable mate so badly that she invented one?

"This stallion of yours, he did bear wings, did he not?" Balrog inquired almost predictably.


"Of course he did!" she almost snapped, looking offended. But the question was a fair one... it had, more than once, crossed her mind to bring home a grounded stallion just for the reaction - and therefore, attention - it would bring. "I'll do you two better, Father, he had four - ghostly, translucent, amazing wings, Father... he is terrifying and awe-inspiring at the same time. Trust me, you would like him."


Balrog uttered an undecipherable rumble as he listened to her tale. Four wings? It sounded like a fairy tale his mother had told him once. One that he had since passed off as just rumor.

But if this were the truth..? He let the concept roam about in his head.

"He does indeed sound legendary." Balrog conceded. "It is a pity that he did not come back with you..." He let that hang on the air for a moment, before toning down a bit. "But I shall be eager to see the results of this union." Which was the truth.



"Maybe you can meet him soon," she said, "But he's hard to pin down." She lifted her chin to look at him, still watching his expressions closely. "But you should not have to wait too long to see the results..." she trailed off for a second. "I've come home to prepare for foals."


"Oh really?" Balrog's voice was a mix of surprise and skepticism. Foals so quickly? Then again, Cataclysm had been spending a lot of time away from the herd. Who knew how long she and the mysterious stallion had been seeing each other.

He paused for a moment before tossing his head in a nod. "Then it sounds like my congratulations are due, Daughter. I shall eagerly await seeing your foals." Balrog did hope that they were as grand as she was claiming. He would be interested to see if there was evidence in these foals of the claimed grandeur of the father.



Cata lets out a breath of relief that she didn't even realize she was holding when her father seemed to approve. "You'll be proud of me," she said, almost a question more than a statement. She puffed out her chest and stepped a bit easier, looking around her herd lands and, for the first time in quite a while, was so very happy to be home.

******************************

Only days after Cataclysm's return to the herdlands, another figure could be seen in the sky, making its way towards the elusive meadows that the Thunderbird herd called their home.
This time, a fire-eyed alicorn stallion who came in for a heavy landing feet from Stormwild, kicking up no small amount of soil. Shaking himself, Firestorm regarded his stepmother without so much as a formal greeting or introduction, nodded his head with a toss. "I heard word that you had been hurt."


Storm was curled up on a warm patch of grass upon the mountain, her figure and wings hiding the one precious basket from any harm. She looked up with the land, snorting in irritance at the kicked up of dust flying in her direction. She narrowed her eyes at her son, “Yes, looking for you,” she snapped, but her expression softened and she sighed – while she had left looking for him she hadn’t been attacked until she had been grounded by her impending labor. “But I am on the mend, I am glad to see you are doing well.”


An ear pinned back at the accusational greeting, and he snorted, his expression darkening despite her retraction. Firestorm's temper had been prodded.

"Well I'm fine." He said with a defensive retort. "You needent worry about me and my 'demon-lover,'" He glared. "She hasn't eaten me yet." He tossed his head.



Stormwild gave a heavy sigh. "I'm not particularly worried about you," she said. "They are possessive - and if she has 'chosen' you she will not want to share you - even with your family."

She let a pause hang in the air for a moment.

"And they can snap....at any given moment."

Another pause.

"And I can't help but notice you're not in a rush to show her off."


Firestorm snorted derisively. "She can't tell me what to do." He tossed his mane for emphasis. "I'm with her because I WANT to be with her. And besides, you haven't exactly been all that welcoming. Why would I want to bring her here with all of this bile you've been spewing." He snorted.

"Just wait. Soon, soon we'll have foals of our own." He let that hang in the air with a daring smile. "And they will be STRONG!" Certainly, Shinoma was not actually with foal yet, but they were trying! ANd Firestorm had confidence.



Storm shook her head. "I think you know a part of you is ashamed." She frowned at the mention of foals. "Please be careful, Firestorm. You have a family here... don't bring foals into the world just out of spite. They will need a strong and loving herd to help raise them well."


Firestorm blatantly rolled his eyes at her accustaion. "Anything but. I came here beacuse I heard you had been hurt, but obviously you're not THAT hurt. And Shinoma and I are perfectly strong enough to raise foals! We don't NEED a bunch of lazy, weak old mares to watch over them."

He went to raise his wings when he noticed something tucked under her large wings. His brow furrowed. A basket?
A flash of... something... ran cold then hot in his chest. Had she and Balrog birthed more foals? THIS Firestorm had not heard.

His ears flattened. "You have baskets?" It almost came out as an accusation rather than a question. Were they trying to replace him? Despite having left the herd, in Firestorm's mind, it wouldn't be forever. He was the golden child - the son of Balrog, and Stormwild, even as he had retorted more than once - wasn't his real mother, she was more of his mother than his real dam was. ANd on top of that, since he had been trying, there was a basket, tucked casually under her wing, spiting him, almost as if it were calling him impotent.


"I think once you have foals of your own you'll be singing a different tune. I just hope your children don't ultimately have to suffer for your stubbornness."

At the mention of the basket Storm couldn't help but smile a bit. She lifted her wing to give a better view: the black and orange and purple glowing basket seemed to be almost lit up in the shadow of its mother's body. "Even more a reason we'd like to see you home and with your family," she said, "You're going to be a big brother soon."



Firestorm's face darkened. "We shall see, Stormwild. But if I got my stubbornness from any, it was Balrog." He flicked his tail. "I think I could be a better sire than he!"

Firestorm eyed the single basket nestled by her side. His confidence and irritation brimming, he made no effort to hold back his quip. "What? Just one?" He laughed outright. "Perhaps you and Balrog have grown impotent in your old age."


Stormwild couldn't deny that Firestorm was indeed his father's son. She simply shook her head.

But the comment about her one basket incensed a rage in her that the Elder had not felt in many years. She quickly got to her feet, stepping quickly away from the basket in fear that she might stomp on it her rage. "How dare you," she roared, flaring her wings up in a show of fierce dominance. "You nearly lost your Alpha and mother, and now you dare to insult the memory of deceased siblings." She tried to calm herself - there was no way he could have known. But regardless she felt as if, based on her impotency or her inability to protect them - he was blaming their deaths on her. "You spoiled, heartless, arrogant stallion, it;s about time you actually learned a lesson about that ungrateful tongue of yours." She continued to storm up to him, head high and threatening, quickly entering his personal space.



Firestorm felt as if the words evaporated from his mouth. For once, he was silent. Deceased siblings...? In his ire, Firestorm didn't even consider that possibility. Now, it seemed blatantly obvious. She had been injured...

He found himself backpedaling as Stormwild drew herself to her full height, wings spread and flapping for effect. Suddenly, she had all of the force of presence of the Alpha that she was.

"Storm... I... I didn't know.." He stumbled over the words.

Then, suddenly, a loud CRACK from behind Stormwild interrupted their conversation...


TO BE CONTINUED...  

[Sabin Duvert]

Winds of Change, part 2
RP with Firestorm, Balrog, Stormwild, and Thunderbird

"You will call me mother you ungrateful wretch," she seethed, not slowing her approach. She was in his face, staring down at him with an intensity that was chilling and terrifying. "I may not have given birth to you but I have given you a life that you could never have had with your weak, skinny, excuse for a mare that did!"

It wasn't until the sound of the crack that Storm looked distracted at all. Her ear swiveled back and as soon as she could determine the sound was coming from the basket, she whipped around, kicking dust in Firestorm's face as she landed and hovered over her treasure.

"Get your Father, now," she demanded to her step son.


Firestorm was backpedaling, fear and anger both building within him. She was a terrifying sight in her anger, and yet, the words she said... Even if he hadn't known his dam, by insulting her she was indirectly insulting him.

Thoughts were racing - scenarios, responses, but there wasn't much controlling those. The urge to run, but his ego wouldn't let him. The urge to fight, but fear battling that. Just as he was about to rear and make a challengeing whinny, there was the crack of the basket.

Firestorm likely didn't know how lucky he was to be interrupted.

He felt disjointed. What was happening? It seemed like thoughts were taking a long time to penetrate his head. The basket... HIs father... Balrog... he just stood there in confusion as anger and fear was fighting to keep the instructions from penetrating before, finally, it sunk in, and Firestorm, wordlessly but with ears pinned back, took to wing to go find Balrog.

The basket quivered and shook. Already, a large section of the basket weave had been torn, and something inside fought for life and freedom. Here, a glimpse of a tiny pale hoof. There, a flutter of feathers.

All of Strormwild's rage had melted away in a single instant. She hovered over the basket, shading it between her legs. She put her head down and nosed it gently, letting the scent of the new foal underneath fill her nostrils and her heart with joy. It took every ounce of her willpower not to rip the basket off in a matter of seconds; though the baby inside was struggling so knew it was important for the foal to make it out of its confines on its own strength, unless in the most dire of circumstances. She shifted her weight from hoof to hoof, her heart fluttering in joy and anxiety. What would come out? What if it looked nothing like her or Balrog and she - in some kind of delirious state - had stolen someone else's basket to cope with the loss of her own? What if, during the struggle, the basket had been damaged and knocked around the baby was horribly disfigured?

She gave a nervous whinny, looking up to the sky for her mate.


It was an agonizing five minutes as Stormwild stood over the wriggling basket, snaps of wicker and groans as the basket as a whole was strained before a large dark shape appeared in the sky, trailed by the smaller, thinner form of Firestorm.

Balrog flew quickly to his mate's side. He had been patrolling the herdgrounds, but the moment that Firestorm had breathed the word "basket", he had needed no further explanation before rushing back to where Storm had been 'nesting'.

He first greeted Storm with a nuzzle, before his eyes and attention were drawn to the basket. His chest filled with pride... and anxiety. Similiar thoughts had plagued the stallion - what if it wasn't his? What if it were... damaged... The circumstances around the basket were odd as it were. But all he could do was wait and watch with baited breath.


The basket strained, both ends seeming pressed from the inside by tiny hooves before, finally, with a loud POP, the basket ripped apart, sending a small foal spilling outwards.

His fur was dark, magenta eyes blinked up at the circle of adults surrounding him. Runic patterns graced his ankles and neck. And on his back, four wings folded, fluttering occasionally in newfound freedom.


Stormwild froze.

She was seeing things... certainly...

The new baby was looking at her, wanting some kind of confirmation that she was his mommy. She should have been nuzzling it, licking it, comforting it..

...but all she could do was stare.

The implications of this...

She finally moved her head...just enough to look at her mate, seeing if he was seeing the same thing she was.



All Balrog could do for a moment was stare. What did this mean? Was it his? The coloration... certainly resembled both him and his mate... And she had to have been pregnant before she left searching for Firestorm. There could not have been another father. and yet... Balrog could not deny the ... amazing feature. The double set of wings... like the stories... like Cataclysm's claim.

The fact the basket had survived an improbably attack... maybe... the spirits had looked down on them. Maybe they had blessed their child - saved it or... changed it... or... something.

He tore his eyes away from the colt, staring up at them to meet Stormwild's eyes.

"Thank the spirits.... Our... son...?" He did not mean for it to come out so much like a question, but he earnestly sought to hear Stormwild's guess.


She found it hard to find her voice. "This is impossible," she finally whispered. She took a hesitant step towards the baby, leaning her head down and nuzzling the small, beautiful wings. A sort of peace fell over her, the panic and uncertainly she had felt just moments ago seemed to be ebbing away as she took in the scent and feel of her new child. She knew in her heart that this child was hers - if not by blood by Divine doctrine. The spirits had sent this child to her - and whether it was born through the labor or her loins, or blessed upon her by a sympathetic spirit to help her mourn the loss of her children - starting from that moment Storm didn't know or care. She had adoptive 'children' before - and while she loved them as she would her own children, there was always this understanding that they were not hers in the same manner that her blood children were. But she felt that her soul was intertwined with this one.

She looked and watched Balrog's expression carefully. "I think the spirits have chosen us."


The foal, exhausted from the effort of tearing his way into this new world, nuzzled against the big, warm, nice-smelling mare, his heart filling with the simple love of a foal for his mother.

Balrog felt his apprehensions and skepticism melt. It did not matter to him either. A similar conclusion entered his mind as Storm spoke. He felt... Right. More right than he could remember. Here, with his mate, in their herd, among their family. Here he was, blessed with this vindication personified - the spirits had chosen THEM. Their family, their herd. This tiny foal cast in his and Storm's image, bearing the legendary double wings of the heavens. The spirits had heard them.

"Thunderbird be praised." Balrog spoke reverently. Their herd totem - the great spirit of flight, strength, and change.

Meanwhile, forgotten, Firestorm took a step backwards, his face darkening with a jealous hatred at seeing the arrival of this "brother."

His ears plastered backwards. HE was the heir to this herd. HE was the son Balrog was proud of - his wings, and the horn of a unicorn. His strength. As much as Firestorm resented his father and how he had fallen into complacency, he secretly treasured how similiar they were - down to their stubbornness. He knew Balrog saw that - he KNEW that they would miss him when he was gone - come begging, crawling back to him to return and prove his strength. He could prove how strong he was being alone. Stormwild's scathing opinion of his mate only further stoked the fire of his ego - if he could be the mate of a Kalona... well... surely that was just another mark of his strength.

But now.... Now with... THAT. It probably wasn't even their foal. But look at them, crooning over the little mutant. How could it even fly right with so many wings.

But Firestorm KNEW. He knew the pride in his parents. He could all but SEE the little foal worming its way into HIS rightful place in this herd.

He stole one last seething look at Stormwild. She probably would soon dismiss him all together - he wasn't her son... and she would claim that this was hers - hers and Balrog's....

Firestorm continued to back up, his dark thoughts rolling through his head as he spread his wings and took to the skies, flying furiously back towards Shinoma.

He noted, with a mixture of distaste and petulance, that the skies were growing dark as thunderheads began to roll in, the first roll of thunder echoing across the mountains.

 

[Sabin Duvert]

Trekking Down a Familiar Path
RP Firestorm, Shinoma

RP located HERE
Firestorm and Shinoma... expecting foals of their own! And Resentments towards the Thunderbird herd.