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 Posted: Tue May 24, 2011 5:19 am
●●●●xxxxxxM E T A P L O T _ / S T O R Y _ U P D A T E S
Coming Soon! July 1st, 2O12
●●●●xxxxxxM A I N _ S T O R Y
A stallion the richest, most diverse shade of gray you have ever seen greets you as you step foot
on the Isle, blocking your way, but not unkindly. Blue eyes hold your gaze far past a comfortable
point, the stallion's muscles quivering with tension. Nostrils flaring, the Azrein lets out a held
breath, the scent of crisp apples and sweet alfalfa carried towards you as he exhales.
You stand uncertainly, and the stallion shakes himself, the violet strands of his mane catching the
light of the dying sun. Blue eyes sparkle as he nickers out a breathy chuckle, and he trots towards
you, hooves dancing in the lush grasses beneath him.
"Pardon my rudeness, new one. I sincerely apologize, but please understand that we're going
through some...rough times right now." The stallion's ears flick backwards in irritation, his eyes
scanning the horizon behind you. "My name is Valdien, Protector of the Greater Herd, and I bid
you welcome to the Floating Isle of Azreth. I will escort you to the King's Castle, but I regret I must
leave you at the Gates to resume my patrol. Now, if you'll follow me, we have quite a ways to go,
but I shall tell you a tale to pass the time." A blue eye winks at you, and the stallion ruffles his
multi-hued wings, settling them into place on his shoulders, pressing them tightly against his ribs.
Valdien takes a step closer toward you, so your elbow touches his shoulder.
On the floating island of Azreth, there once lived a King so great in his majesty that all of his people
thought him a god. The King had riches, women, jewels, plenty of land, but most importantly, he
had the love of his subjects. However, something was missing in his life; something he could not
name no matter how hard he searched. The King was lonely, painfully so, and no man, woman, or
child could ease the dread he held in his heart.
All of the people mourned for their King when he stopped coming down to the towns to speak
intimately with them. They cried when the King's Heralds spread news instead of the King himself,
knowing that the great King was fettered by his aching sorrow. The people brought him everything
they could think of to try to cheer him: wondrous, forgotten plants from the World Below, long
thought to be extinct. Birds of such shapes and colors that the brightest flowers were envious of
their feathers. Children of all ages brought their most valued treasures: a piece of string from their
favorite blanket, a stick that their old dog had played with before he had passed, and the children
always gave the King their bright smiles.
But nothing worked, and the King only withdrew more and more into himself, becoming obsessed
with finding the reason for the emptiness within his soul, within his mind and his heart. He had no
reason to feel sorrow -- the Isle had known peace for three-hundred years, and the King himself
was blessed with long life, so he need not fear war. He was loved by many, and even loved a few
himself, but no woman or child could fill the void within him. Weighty chains wrapped his heart,
and he found no solace from their cold grip.
One night, the King lay down to sleep, and he fell into a dream so peaceful, so wonderful, that he
dreaded to wake up. In his dream, the whitest horse he had ever seen walked beside him as he
strode through a forest, searching for the reason of his sorrow. The horse did not neigh, did not
nicker or squeal nor did his hooves make any sound on the carpet of leaves beneath them. The
stallion -- if he could even be called a stallion, for he was unlike any horse the King had ever seen
-- merely gazed at the King with sapphire eyes; the purest blue the King had ever seen.
Somehow, the King knew that this was more than a dream, and he ceased his walking, turning to
meet the clear gaze of that stallion. The stallion stood not an arm's length away from the saddened
King, his head turned to the side, the canopy of the forest causing the stallion's white coat to be
dappled with transparent shades of green. The creature was a balm to his aching heart, and the
King, much to his shame, found his vision blurred by tears. Seeing them, the stallion took a slow,
cautious step forward, his eyes never leaving the King's own, not even to trace the path the tears
left on the King's face.
The King opened his mouth to speak, holding out his hand in an invitation for the stallion. The
stallion breathed into the man's palm, touching the velvet of his muzzle against the King's
fingertips, and those blue eyes finally closed. Before the King could utter a single word, the stallion
opened his eyes abruptly, closing the distance between the two of them quickly.
The King stiffened, knowing the stallion could crush him with his weight if he so chose -- for the
stallion was easily seventeen hands, if not more -- but the stallion simply nickered into the King's
ear.
::Find me, Broken King, and I shall be the one to ease your suffering.::
The King gasped, and with his sharp intake of breath, he shot up from his bed, the words that the
stallion -- the stallion? -- had spoken into his mind still ringing in his ears, very much real. The
King shook his head, disbelieving that such a pure, genuine soul like that of the stallion's could
exist in this world. But for the first time in years, the King had found a small strand of hope, and he
would cling tightly to it with all that he had. He rushed from his chambers, pulling on his clothes as
he did, and told his staff to assemble the Heralds and as many people that could come to the
Castle the next day.
The people heard his words, and years passed. Over the course of those several years, the King
had built the grandest stable that could be found in the world -- including the Lands Below. The
floor of the stalls were sanded, stained and polished mahogany, the wood shining a warm red in the
gentle glow of the Magelight on the walls. Indeed, the King had commissioned the only two Mages
on the Isle to create lights for his stable, knowing that the soul he was seeking deserved nothing
but the best he could offer.
Each stall was as big as the King's bedroom chamber, and held a half-door that latched on the
inside, not the outside, so that its occupant could let themselves out if they so desired. The King
knew that the heart that called out to him was smart -- smarter, by far -- than any animal ever
known. The King's Stables held hundreds of stalls, and when the last timber was put into place --
by the King's own hand, for he had worked harder than anyone in their construction -- the King
knew that it was time.
The King sat in front of his stables, hands on his lap, and people from all over the Isle -- and from
the World Below -- brought him what they thought he was looking for.
Knights from near and far came with horses - winged, horned, cloven-hoofed, and yet the King
passed them all by.
Virgin maidens and old crones brought him horses with bright eyes and long hair, but still, the King
found no happiness.
Weeks and weeks passed by, and the King grew more melancholy by the hour, thinking he would
never see his dream fulfilled. On the last month of the year, two full years after the stables had
been built, the King left the chair for the first time. His back ached, his muscles were atrophied
from constantly waiting, and the King knew he would be forever bent; would never be able to stand
tall as the King he had three years ago. And with that thought, despair rushed in. It really had been
a dream. Of course no such horse existed; he had been such a fool.
As the King walked through the throngs of people waiting to show him more and more horses, they
backed away from him. The King's face was flushed, his eyes too bright, and tears freely,
shamelessly, ran down the man's now-sunken cheeks. The King passed them all by, not speaking
a word nor meeting anyone's gaze. His subjects cried along with the King, knowing that the man
they had once loved was not the same as this old, broken King.
The King left them all behind, traveling east for hours, for days, not once pausing to rest or take
sustenance. The King knew what he wanted to do, for he had a son and he knew his line would
continue. But he was so tired of being in despair, so tired of the weights of hopelessness dragging
him down each day. Finally, on the twelfth day of the last month of the year, the King came to the
edge of his lands. The lush green grass of the plains to the east of his castle stopped abruptly, the
edge of the world as it were.
The King stood, wavering in the strong winds, at the very edge of the island looking down. Far, far
below him, he saw white clouds; as white as the stallion he had seen in his dreams. Looking up,
out over endless sky, he saw the purest blue; the clarity exactly like the Stallion's. With a sob, the
King knelt down in the lush grasses, his knees resting on the lip of the island, knowing that even a
stray breeze would topple him off of his lands, sending him falling to his death hundreds of miles to
the Lands Below.
The King closed his eyes, almost wishing he would be blown off of the Floating Isle, and from his
heart came a surge of hope, of acceptance, of unconditional love. The King started, throwing
himself backwards to land on the grasses behind him and not the sky before him. And finally,
finally, he heard something that brought tears to his eyes -- not of pain, but of joy! A crystal-clear
neigh rang through the air, carried on the wind to the King's ears, and he knew what it was at once.
The King, once proud and tall, now stood up, bent and old, and turned around, his arms
outstretched to either side of him.
There, rushing towards him, was the Stallion. The Stallion's coat put the white of the clouds to
shame, long mane and tail streaming behind him, his hooves pounding out a beat of hope, of unity,
and of belonging. The King rushed towards the stallion, even though it pained him terribly, his
breath coming in hitching gasps from the hot waves of agony and joy coursing through him all at
once, and as they met, the King threw him arms around the beast's neck.
The King sobbed into the sensual curve of the stallion's neck, running his frail, calloused hands
over the silken fur, tangling his fingers in the stallion's mane. The stallion placed his head behind
the King's back, pushing his chin down into the man's shoulder blades, pulling him closer. As the
King's cries quieted, the Stallion backed away a few steps, those blue eyes that the King had been
searching for all along resting on him once again.
When the green eyes of the King and the blues of the Stallion's met, a wave of love, of
understanding, of unconditional love and acceptance ran from the Stallion's mind to the King's
own. The King stood, quaking, his mind reeling. He knew that he would never be lonely again --
would never be shunned or be judged by this angel that stood before him. The King's throat grew
tight, knowing that only moments ago he had planned to say goodbye to the world, and plunge to
an honor-less death.
But now...now, the King knew that the Stallion would be forever with him, in mind, body, heart, and
soul, and the Stallion knew the King would always be with him in the same ways. The Stallion saw
all of the King's fears, his crimes, his mistakes and his childish dreams, and what most people
would have cringed away from, the Stallion accepted them without any hesitation. The Stallion
wrapped the King in love and warmth, and finally, finally, the King was whole.
After spending hours just simply being together, loving one another, the Stallion knelt, allowing the
King to lift his feeble body onto his strong broad back. ::Where your body fails, I shall be your
strength. When your judgement is clouded, I shall be your clarity. Whenever you feel broken and
lost, and feel as if life holds no meaning, I will show you the wonder and joy it holds, and will heal
and guide you back to my embrace. When the weight of the world is on your shoulders, I will carry
you. I will love you, no matter your crimes, your decisions, or your fears. I will always accept you,
and you shall never be alone again. Your despair will be met with my hope, and the fetters that bind
you are no more. Your soul is mine, and my soul is yours, and we will never be apart, even in
death. If even a hundred thousand years pass, I will always love you. My name is Azreth, and I am
your Chosen, King Alarein.::
Those words that Azreth spoke would be the traditional words that all Azrein spoke when they
Bonded with their Chosen forever more. We celebrate the Twelfth of December each year, humans
and Azrein alike, in memory of the first Soulbond being completed.
The King and Stallion returned, one of mind, heart, and soul, and the people rejoiced. The King
showed the Stallion the stables he had built for him, and bade the Stallion to choose a mare in
time, so their children could grow up together, for the King's son had just been born not a year
past.
Eventually, after living his remaining years in happiness, joy, and hope, the King passed a quiet
death, and his Stallion lay beside him in his own old age. The two of them left the world, riding on
winged hooves, and the two of them left a legacy behind them.
Valdien turned to look at you, and the pride in his legacy and that of the King's was almost tangible
in his eyes. "It warms my heart to know that King Alarein finally found the happiness he
deserved, for he had always been a kind, just, and caring ruler, just like our current King is
today." Valdien nodded at you, extending his wings in a small stretch, the ends of the brightly-
colored feathers grazing your cheek softly. The stallion walked on for some time in silence, leaving
you to your thoughts. As the sun began to sink below the horizon, and the silhouette of a large, lavish castle
was coming in to sight, the stallion picked up the threads of his tale once again.
Hundreds of years passed, and the people had named those angelic breed of equines Azrein,
combining the names of Azreth and Alarein.
Able to read the thoughts of their Chosen - for they did indeed Choose humans, and not the other
way around, and with senses so much stronger than those of a normal equine's, the Azrein were
worshiped by the King's people. To be Chosen was a gift unlike any other; and any one, of any
age, gender, or class could be taken from their families by an angel in the body of a horse to go live
at the King's home, Avandere Castle.
Those humans who became Bonded to Azrein realized over time spent with their Bonded that
there was no chance or randomness of themselves being picked; for as Azreth said many
centuries ago, their Souls were destined to become one. And once an Azrein feels the pull on his
heart, knowing that someone out there needs them, they must answer the call. If they fail to do so,
or choose not to, their own hearts begin to twist, and negativity and darkness clouds their minds.
Centuries passed, and for some reason, fewer and fewer Azrein were called down from the skies.
Perhaps humans forgot that they needed to simply believe that an Azrein would come to them,
which is what we think calls Azrein down to the Isle, or maybe the Azrein found Chosen within
another race. Regardless of the reason, Azrein became merely legends in the minds and hearts of
man, and no one believed that they even existed until several years ago. When the heart of the
current King called so desperately to an Azrein, wanting so much to believe, his hope almost
physical, the Stallion Called rejoiced, for he knew that he had found the other half of himself, and
rushed to the King's side in the man's darkest hour.
With that, the Azrein realized that humans were finally beginning to believe in them again, and so
many of them journeyed to the Floating Isle, once again named after the very first Azrein. Now,
King Azreth protects them, and every Azrein, Bonded or Unbonded, is loved and cherished by
nearly every human on the Isle. The King has allowed the Azrein to freely roam over the Isle,
making it their own to live alongside humans once more in joy. The King makes it a point to protect
every Azrein in the Greater Herd plains, the stables that his many-times great-grandfather had built
for them still standing and well taken care of.
People believe that King Azreth has some sort of inherent magecraft, or a magical Bond with every Azrein on the Isle -- not
one as deep as Chosen to Bonded, but he is rumored to be able to project his emotions into each
Azrein, and to know somehow the surface feelings of each Azrein he personally knows. As such,
the King always makes it a point to greet each Azrein that arrives on the Isle, much to their delight,
and King Azreth ensures that there are plenty of people coming to or living in his lands, to ensure
that each soul may find its other half.
However, not all Azrein that have come to the Isle choose to Bond with humans, even if they are
Called. Six of the Azrein that ventured down from the Skies were devoured by fear and hate,
thinking that they themselves would be better off without their other halves.
Comprised of Azrein with dark souls and darker minds, these Azrein will do anything to ensure that
humans and Azrein will sever their ties completely.
King Azreth has seen the trouble brewing on the far south of the Isle, in the Rouh'ek Desert.
Quietly, he is asking Azrein and humans alike to join him to preserve the sacred Bond that man
and Azrein share. This dispute cannot be reconciled with words, for the King has tried time and
time again, at the threat to his own life, and the Six have begun to recruit Azrein to their cause.
Now, Agents of the Six are infiltrating the Greater Herd, killing off Bonded and Unbonded Azrein
alike.
To each human the Azrein of the Isle Choose, King Azreth will give an important part to play in the
days and war against the Six to come. With all hope, love, and protection, Azreth trains the Azrein
and their Chosen for battle, praying that the bond they share and the love they have for one another
will help push back the Six's hatred. It kills the King to have to train these wondrous,
magical, perfect creatures to do something so against their very nature.
Valdien stops, his hooves strangely silent on the cobblestones beneath him, and he nods at the two
guards manning Avandere Castle's gate. "Another one for the King; please send that vain boy my regards."
The stallion arched an eyebrow, almost coyly, and turned once more to face you. When his eyes meet your own,
you jump as you realize that his were the exact shade and purity you imagined Azreth's, the first Azrein's, to be -- and, almost as if he
can read your very thoughts, Valdien nodded very slightly. With a thunderous clap of his wings, Valdien launched
himself into the sky, a dark shadow weaving through the stars.
"Come on this way, then, and we'll fill you in on what that nag there hasn't told you yet." One of the guards winked,
his cheeks and nose red from either the chill in the air or a bit too much to drink.
The guard turned smartly on his heel, saluted to his superior, and the gates of Avandere Castle opened
before you, and with them, a chance to find the other half of your Soul.
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Posted: Fri Mar 02, 2012 12:38 pm
●●●●xxxxxxA L I G N M E N T S
●●●●xxxxxxGood means that they are part of the Greater Herd, and are allied with the King and his armies against the war with the Six. Good Azrein are the only alignment that can have a Chosen [your OC].
●●●●xxxxxxNeutral is just that; these Azrein choose not to take sides, and they are neither ally nor enemy to the King or the Six. These Azrein cannot Bond with a Chosen unless they choose to become allied with the King.
●●●●xxxxxxEvil Azrein are allied with the Six, and loathe and despise humans and the Bond they share with Azrein. These Azrein will stop at nothing to kill both humans and the Azrein aligned with them.
An Azrein may change it's Alignment twice, but the reasoning behind this is mandatory, as is either Roleplay or an extensive description as to what caused the change of heart.
To change an Azrein's Alignment, one must either have an in-depth Roleplay showing how and why the Azrein changed or chose a side, and must be approved by Azreth or Akira before it can become official.
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Posted: Wed Jun 27, 2012 5:41 pm
●●●●xxxxxxT H E _ C I R C L E S _ O F _ A V A N D E R E
Avandere was once just a lonely fortress on a hill overlooking the Sea of Grass, as the Greater Herd Plains were once named. My great Ancestor began to build a castle, hiring the best of the best from both the Isle itself and the Lands Below. After twelve years, the structure was complete. Alarein then had the men build lodgings for those who worked at the castle proper, as well as make grand Parade Grounds to hold events. All of these structures were roofed with purple tiles, and thus was born the High Circle, home to the King and his retainers.
Soon after, many people flocked to King Alarein, begging for succor, for the world was a worse place then, and the greed and violence of man was unfettered. The King knew his people needed him, and so commanded the very same architects who built his own castle to supply them with shelter. But not just bare bones, oh no. Without his people, Alarein wouldn't have ascended to the throne, and so he gave them all the luxuries he could afford. All of these roofs were made of blue ceramic, and thus was born the Upper Circle, home to nobility and their servants.
Soon, merchants and commoners alike began flocking to the city of Avandere, building their own homes on the tier below the Upper Circle. They built their homes atop their shops and businesses, and many more people came to the city to peruse their wares. There were shops of every sort you could imagine; from blacksmith to pastry, from scribes to weapons. All of their roofs were made with yellow shingles. Thus was born the Middle Circle, home to entrepreneurs.
Finally, many of those who disdained honest work came to the ever-growing city of Avandere, and they preyed on those who worked to put bread on their tables. The King was rife with displeasure, as he loved his people. After a year of assassinations and thieving, the King Purged the three Circles, sending the criminals down to the bottom tier of the hill, where there was only grass and rocks aside from the Airship docks. A sheer drop of three hundred feet was a danger to many of the people, and Alarein felt uncertain about their well-being, knowing many used drugs or were drunks.
However, King Alarein felt bad that the families and children of the criminals slept without a roof over their heads, and so he once again commissioned men to build homes. These were smaller and less roomy, yet they offered the people a place to call home and a sanctuary from violence. A fence was placed on the edge of the sheer drop, so no people would mistakenly fall to their deaths while under the influence of a substance, be it drugs or alcohol. All of these roofs were made with red tile, and thus was born the Red Circle, home to thieves, whores, seedy taverns, and criminals.
But King Alerin gave each person a chance to better themselves, and he threw the caste system off of the edge of the Isle. If a man -- or a woman -- were to work hard enough, they could advance up -- or down, if they were unlucky -- the Circles. In this way, Alarein gave them ambition and drive, and that, above even the largest city itself, was the greatest gift he could have given his people.
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