[ORP] The Flood

[phoenix kiss]

The borderlands are not a place known for lush water -- at least not in known kimeti or kiokote history. Enough seeps out of the close dark of the swamp to feed a strip of grassland; the gently waving grasses ripple in the breeze for a mile or two before slowly dying out, roots strangled by the unrelenting dryness and hardness of true mudflats. Here, kiokote hooves leave pockmarks on the mudflats, and it is easy to raise one's head, breathe in air that is dry and warm, and look to the horizon, to the limit of vision. Kimeti rarely make it this far before the Ache tightens their joints, dims their vision, and sends them home to the Motherswamp; some kiokote have felt the pull as well, and lope with long ground-eating strides through the grasslands back to the swamp itself.

The kiokote who remain on the plains will see a wall of grey clouds build on the horizon. There are no Legendaries here blessed with foresight; there is nothing to prepare the kiokote for what happens next. The clouds build and build -- come tumbling down from the north, rolling and boiling -- and when the sky deepens to boiling, festering murk, the clouds open up.

It rains steadily for two days. This is easily endured. Stallions gather up their harems to high ground, or the grasslands. The young are warned about racing off alone.

And then the floods come. To the north, the sodden ground is unable to hold any more water, and diverts it to the rivers; swollen with cloudburst and torrential rain, they unleash a torrent that plunges south.

Within minutes the mudflats are covered in inches of cold, muddy water, studded with debris and vegetation. White-capped and frothing, the water rises disturbingly quickly, sucking at hooves, tearing up grass by the roots and rolling small boulders before it. Within half an hour it is deep enough to swim in.

And it does not stop.

Within an hour it races over the grasslands, driving the unfortunate, lame, or slow before it. Kiokote plunge into the grasslands to make for the swamp, swimming through the grasses in an attempt to get to higher ground, if they can find any. They ignore the corpses of unlucky cheetah (and even one foal) floating limp on top of the water; it is a race for the swamp.  

[elufae]

Mourning Fog shuddered in his sleep. Nightmares of dark, open, devouring skies clouded his dreams for several nights now. Endless waters pouring from no-where and everywhere all at once, enveloping him and dragging him down. Although the buck knew how to swim, the rushing currents forced him below the surface and no matter how hard he kicked to reach the air above, he only sank lower and lower.

Each night, the stag drowned.

It left him waking in terrible fright, coughing and choking on his own gasping breath. His coat soaking in cold sweat. His life-mate, Life-Pulse, would wake beside him. He knew it worried her, but this omen would not leave him alone.

He decided this time was final, he could no longer stand these dreams of endless waters, devouring everything in their wake. What did it mean? Why did the Motherfather wish him to experience this? Come morning, the stag would nuzzle his love, his sons and daughter, and their swans farewell. And with a stern expression the buck rarely wore, he made his way to the northern edge of the swamp. Towards the vast open lands where it was the only place the stag could think of that could harbor the overwhelming skies of his nightmares.

When, many days, and many strengthening dreams later, he finally reached the borderlands, he could only stand with tired eyes and gaping jaw at the destruction he saw in the distance. But what could one, lone buck do to help? His knees suddenly weak, he collapsed to the ground as his eyes still struggled to take in the distant, rushing waters that haunted his dreams. He was afraid. Not only for himself, but for the strange ones that lived this far out, and for the swamp the waters moved towards.

Finding what little courage he had left, Mourning Fog slowly rose and moved towards the flood. He had to do something. His pace quickened until it was in a full-on gallop. He must do something.  

[Nyqol]

He was dreaming again, it started like any other day. Take Flight was going out for a walk in the swamp with King, his crane companion. A loud rumbling came from.. well, everywhere. This had spooked King and had flown away into the trees. Take Flight hadn't notice the water rushing his way; he was too focused on trying to figure out what the noise could possibly be. He was then hit by a hard rushing waters, and was soon drowning. Unable to dig his hooves into the now wet soil, being dragged throughout the swamp. Drowning. Drowning...

Take Flight then woke up from his nightmare, gasping for air. Waking up to the sounds of the hard showers. What is happening to the swamp? he thought. Take Flight was still very groggy as he got up. The buck didn't really know what to make of his dreams, it's been two days since it started. It was definitely something to take note of. It was rare to have the same dreams occur day by day. It must be a warning from their swamp mother.

Take Flight stopped for a moment to think. He had to move. He then ventured forward in search of higher ground, hoping that everything he had been dreaming about was just a case of paranoia. But... Where was everyone?  

[gooberfeesh]

The rain unsettled Crimson Tears.

The weather had always been a key factor when it came to his moods, but to glance in the distance and see the bruised sky, heavy and ominous with infinite darkness…? The buck couldn’t deny the utter hopelessness he felt, the crushing anguish that only arrived with consistent storms.

His mongoose, Reflects Light, experienced the same unease. The creature’s tail flitted nervously as he chirped in alarm. Crimson attempted to calm his companion to no avail; he couldn’t expect to soothe another when his own emotions were unstable.

A reserved member of his kind, Crimson wandered around the swamp for a good portion of the night. He expected to find others, regardless if they were exited or fearful of the weather, roaming about. He found no one. The sound of his hooves sloshing through the muck was the only indication that he himself was still in existence. Morbidly, he wondered if a great catastrophe claimed the land. The thought was plausible, yet wounding all the same.

He attempted to find someone, anyone, to confirm or deny his suspicions. His cautious travels eventually led him to an area he didn’t roam often; it was open and filled with less overgrowths. Reflects Light skittered on top of Crimson Tears’ head and coiled in his black mane. Hopefully, they would find the answers they so desperately sought out.  

[LOLLI qAq]

He was back in the swamp.

For as long as he could remember he'd made the borders of the grasslands and beyond his home- A group of his ancestors taking those first steps to explore past the Swampmother. Intellectually ignoring the Ache and unltimately paying for it. It had been the Ache, that delicious longing, that had brought him back to the marshes of the kimeti but that was not why he returned today. Blue eyes looking up at the sky and the waters that came down to swallow the land and any unfortunate to get pulled in and Always Running nodded.

He'd seen the clouds rolling angrily across the skies, heard the tell-tale hammering of thunder as though the Legendaries of the past were themselves running across the heavens in a fury. And though all instinct told him to search for high ground with the kiokote he instead headed for the heart of the swamp. He needed to be sure his family was safe- He. He needed to help and feel as though he was needed.  

[Jun D]

For two days the rain had not stopped. It had gotten to the point where even Grey had stuck a tongue into their usual proceedings and decreed that, yes, they would have to doctor their diluted reservoir with some of their jealously stored salt deposits if they'd expected any preserving magic to happen. That, naturally, made Rise rather unhappy, but it was a minor inconvenience that was soon to be forgotten, as on the third day the sisters returned to the base of operations rather more hastily than usual. It was not uncommon to see Fade speed full-pelt into the clearing, no, but even Weep had broken into a bit of a canter - and this time, she actually opened her mouth to speak first:

"Flooding from the North."

"How bad?" Fell had risen at their urgent approach, "that bad? Oh dear, the kiokote…"  

[Maxx D]

"Whole bunch of them," Fade nodded rapidly, her coat colours blending in the blur. "running - running towards the swamp. Lots of kiokote."

Rise had remained silent, absorbing the proceedings - then picked a cured carcass off the drying rock and tossed it into the pile of produce. "There's only one thing to do," he said grimly.
"They eat meat, don't they? We need more stock - everyone out to kill more food!"

[Linked their certs since this is just a cameo, but if anyone needs food Rise & Co's Preserved Goods Pte Ltd is here! 8D]  

[Jun D]

It was a very bad time to be caught in the grasslands. The endless rain of two days past had not been warning enough; she had been stepping carefully through the beaten green when the roar had reached her ears, had looked up to see the barreling white - it had still been far behind her when she'd kicked her hooves back and called to her cheetah, but by the time she'd reached safety (a tangle of roots that thankfully stood partway above the tide), the water had rushed past her, she had no longer been able to feel the ground. And where was her cheetah?

"Far!" she cried, "Far! ...Cat!"

She was just about to dive into the flood again when there was a strangled rasp - a very soaked cat burst through and scrambled up the roots. "Oh, thank Swampmother," she murmured, her heartbeat easing as she pressed close against it. But looking across the chaos, others had not been so lucky...  

[Flayre The Pyro Girl]

She'd lost her brother in the mad dash from the edge of the swamp toward the center, and it worried Lucky Charm. Of the Night wasn't used to being away from her, his steadfast and solid sister. He could easily get lost and caught in the terrible rush of water sweeping down from the borderlands, or be tangled in the horde of fleeing Kiokote. Swampmother knew they'd passed a few of the unlucky ones. "Night!" She yelled as she turned back, "Night! Brother, answer me!" Her hooves churned the dark waters that rushed past.


"Charm? Charm?! Where'd you go, Charm?" Of the Night, uncertain of his direction, stood still on the exposed roots of a mangrove. His sister had vanished, leaving him alone, and the terrifying waters rushed just inches below his wet, slippery hooves. His teal eyes wide with fright, he called for his sister again and again, breath gasping from his lungs. He'd seen the poor foals and little creatures that hadn't made it away from the water, and he hoped desperately that Charm was just away from him, not gone. He turned every which way, frantically searching for the flash of brown and teal that patterned his sister. He opened his mouth to call again, but slipped, and with a tremendous splash, fell into the swift dark waters.

It was the splash that alerted her to where her brother was--he was always slipping, and she despaired over his clumsiness usually, but this time she rejoiced that she was able to find him again. She surged toward the sound, wading slowly through the heavy press of the waters. Charm reached the area where the splash had come from and looked around, hoping to see Night surfacing and gasping, alive and well, if drenched. But nothing happened. There was no sound but the hiss of the rising water, until, finally she dove under, searching blindly for her lost brother. She found him tangled in the roots he had taken shelter on, a hoof caught in a loop of strong root. She bit through, freeing him, and together they swam for air.  

[elufae]

((i guess morning fog is slightly ahead of everyone else's timelines so let's make him catch up orz))
Mourning Fog raced ahead to reach the on-coming waters. And while he stopped to dig his hooves into the mud-flats, the waters still knocked him off his feet, sweeping him away with everything else in its path towards the swamp. Kicking hard, he broke the surface, gasping for air.

There were kiokote, uprooted trees, and...remains of the less fortunate all around him. Most of the adults managed to keep their heads above the water, their powerful legs kicking furiously as the waters drove them closer and closer to the swamp. Looking frantically around him, he found a young filly kiokote, bobbing up and down in the flood, barely coming up for a panicked breath.

Pushing his way towards her, he wondered where her mother was. No doubt the waters swept them away from each other before she could do anything. Reaching the filly's side, he nipped a tuft of her mane, close to the base, and yanked her above the water. The filly took a quick gasp and a yelp and the sudden yank. He guided her to his back, where the young one was light enough not to drag him completely down. She could hang onto the rough scales dotting his back as traction for her.

Soon, mangroves and willows alike rushed by them. The waters seemed to slow slightly, and soon enough, the stag managed to grasp a large root that protruded from the waters.

Scrambling up with the filly, shaking with fright and clinging to his back, Mourning Fog took one more look at the flood that entered the swamp. They were a ways in now, and he saw kimeti struggling alongside the fleeing kiokote. Two flashes of bright blue and one small glance of orange managed to catch his eye. And the buck called out to them, hoping they were alright, despite not being able to reach them without braving the currents again.  

[phoenix kiss]

With it the flood brings destruction. Not just the water, but what it contains; boulders, chunks of earth torn up from the mudflats, and, as it surges towards the swamp, whole trees. Cypresses spin and twirl in the current, their roots reaching like ghastly fingers, grasping at air. The trees are the most dangerous debris, though they do warn of whirlpools -- when they begin to spin, caught in an eddy, they do so with enough force to knock a kimeti unconscious.

As the flood makes its way into the swamp, songbirds and cranes will cluster bewilderedly on the trees, calling to one another; beyond the roar of water and the raucous birdcall, the usual silence of the swamp is shattered. Lynx call for their young; foxbun and mongoose attempt to clamber up to high ground, and the cries of kimeti drift underneath all of the other noise. They call to one another, to their children, crying out at the flood -- why didn't the Legendaries see this? Why a flood now? What happened?

The kiokote now begin their plunge into the swamp in earnest, looking for higher ground. Kimeti are shoved heedlessly out of the way, or leapt over, sometimes struck with the edge of a hoof as the kiokote misjudges distance. The flee into the swamp -- and, unfortunately, have not the slightest inclination of where to go. Some, turned around and confused, find themselves running towards the grasslands, mind full of panic.

Ahead of one kimeti a dark grey kiokote misjudges distance and runs into a half-downed cypress with enough force to bowl him over; another unlucky buck will hear the bleating of a kiokote foal, trapped with a hoof ankle-deep in sucking mud as the waters rise around her throat.  

[Xerianthe]

There was danger. Quietly in the shadows, Alder waited. Old as he was (not too old – was he?) and prone to bouts of complete silence, the buck was very used to the ebb and flow of the swamp. A foxbun bounded past, then a songbird. There was something wrong. So he moved north, seeking vainly this problem causing unbalance in the swamp. Worry flooded him, making his tail swish restlessly behind him. Kimeti didn’t often go north – but. There was always a chance and the grasslands had their own creatures. Foals, fillies and colts, young ones in danger.

Legs began to step higher and higher as the water rose. It was gradual. It could almost be ignored in the beginning as the water was mere inches higher. His own knowledge of the swamp and unease would not allow him to ignore it. One word, fearful in its imagery, flashed through his mind. Flood. Denial came with that word, an inherent sense of no that always came with disaster.

It could not be denied here, this close to the borderlands. Waters were rushing, frothy white caps carrying the bodies of small animals – he shuddered to think of larger bodies. He was swimming now, powerful strokes seeking out higher ground. How to help was the question. Survival was not the question here, not for him. Gold eyes sought out signs of struggling. And as he was wont to do, his eyes sought out foals, caught amidst the onslaught of fearful kimeti and kiokote.

A forceful wave pushed him back, water filling his nose and mouth until his hooves hit roots, water pouring down his throat. He steadied himself against the tree, looking back towards the swamp. The waters had not yet gotten too high further in, but the panic was palpable.