Home Guidebook Members Market Map Login Register
OOC News IC News
28/01/2019 - With a new theme and new colours, Starwave will soon be running leadership searches for the three clans. We also have worked out a few little bugs too. The joining incentive is going to run from now until the end of February, so instead of bringing one character to copper level, you can still bring two, and their companion as well! You are welcome to break this up as well. So, come join us, and let's see what goes on! With more people, hopefully, we intend to run events and make the site more PvE. Clan leadership will be opened soon too, hopefully!

26/11/2018 - Starwave is ready to go! There are still pieces to flatten, to make better, but its time to open and see how it all goes. Tis exciting to do so! Please feel free to advertise, tell people, etc and let's go. Once a few have joined, the first event will happen which is going to be finding clan leaders! Subforums in those areas are open for claiming too if you'd like them! Excited! Let's have some fun!

23/11/2018 - Much is done! Lands, guidebook is finished, profiles (save for the --> I can't work out what displaying that its driving me insane!) But I'm happy with everything and the progess of whats happening. I have some subforums to add to the clan lands, and then it will be almost ready to go for an opening and a beginning. There will be a SWP very early after opening too!

11/11/2018 - Starwave is underway. This is the first OOC news entry!

28/01/2019 - Starwave has seen quite a few new arrivals, and the clans are stirring. More arrive every day - and some of the Inherent and skeptical, some welcoming and others flat out angry and upset. However, they are accepting and soon, they will be seeking clan leaders - who will they be?

26/11/2018 - The time has come. Starwave's portals are open; the world is pulling newcomers to the shores. What will happen now?


Open Like grasping at air
Simulucra
Copper level
24 years
Mare

9 Posts

Simulacrum
#1

Valena
my touch is power
my touch is poison
Salt clung to the sea breeze, the only sound as silence hung like a heavy blanket over the beach. The sun was bright and merry, the sea a crystal blue and the gold beaches were dotted with all manner of sea-slung debris, but there was no life to the picturesque shore. A woman of black and green graced the shores, her mismatched gaze cast out across the calm waters. Salty sea water dripped from her form, her hair a tangle of wet curls and yet she was still sinfully beautiful.

Valena was pissed off, and at somewhat of a loss. Her ship had sink in the open waters and when consciousness had lost her a storm had raged. When she awoke, bobbing unceremoniously upon the sandy beach all her riches had gone, along with any sign of the boat or its crew. This quiet beach way eerie, the way it was devoid of sound but for the swish of her tail and the squelch of her striped hooves in wet sand. Valena cast her green and yellow gaze about her, hating the lack of control she now had over her circumstances and wishing for something, anything other than this heavy silence.

QUOTE
Simulucra
Copper level
25 years
Male

8 Posts

Simulacrum
#2
The story goes
Or the way that I was told
There was a king that always felt too high
And then he fell too low
Baldur is more wary of the portals than Thorlak is. But then, Baldur is by far the more responsible of the two. The one upon whose shoulders the weight of Thorlak’s bravado and impertinence so very often befalls. “Ahhh, come now, ya silly old cow,” Thor calls over his shoulder, glancing back at the big, sable-brown ox ‒ his split hooves dragging furrows into the damp, golden sand, his tail slapping the exposed metal and gears of his haunches in worry. The response is a low, perturbed, distinctly mechanical moooo. A beast of burden, indeed. 

To Thorlak, the opening of the strange, metal portals had been an opportunity. It’s what makes him a great merchant!

“My theory, friend, is that there ought to be trinkets, items, things from who-knows-where to be… gathered, from the beaches. You see. Picture: chaos, confusion... He nods his angular, horned head, chest puffed out in the habitual self-possession that could take a bolt of lightning straight on and still protect the fragile ego beneath. A baleful groan elicits from the muzzle of the troubled replicant bull, eyeing, back-and-forth, the towering, metallic gateways and his rapacious comrade. “No! No, no, sir! I am not filching a thing here. Do I look like a common larcenist, SIR? Do you hold me in such little regard.” His deep, booming voice feigns gallantry, his blustering, glinting eyes pinning the ox with chivalry wounded. The bull huffs and shakes his head ‒ he’d roll his eyes if he could ‒ and trundles forward after the marching stallion. “Finder’s keepers, Baldur, my boy. Finder’s keepers.”

The briny breeze twists loose lengths of dark hair around Thorlak’s neck. At once, shading the near-neon, turquoise glow of his triangular tattoo, then, brushing everything away to the other side with yanking, sea salt fingers, exposing it to the sharp sun, cutting across calm waters. Between the portals, the pair wanders, painstakingly squinting at those things that catch a stray ray of sunlight ‒ tide-polished rocks, the scalloped edge of a shell. Junk and more. Fruitless salvaging, but for a thin, silvery chain that Thorlak raises with telekinesis and eyes hard, placing around the crook of Baldur’s sharp horn for safe keeping. There is, then, the great growing desire to return back towards Cobalt Steppe and their cavernous home ‒ until, blowing away wavy pieces of forelock from his eyes, the odd, green form comes into sight.

Baldur snorts. 
“Don’t be silly.”

He closes the gap between them with a sure, large stride. There is confidence in the marrow of him ‒ a dangerous glut. A small, bold smirk raising the corner of his dark lips when he takes in the curved make of her; a game flirtation about the arch and toss of his neck as he comes to a stop, observing around with bright, pale eyes. (Trailed by a most unamused bovine.) “Ay,” his brow furrows curiously at the utter peculiarity of her ‒ the bright, cautionary green and the deep jet. “Freshly out of a portal, hm, miss? Though, I must say, ya don’t look half bad for it.” The Simulacra’s head tilts, weight shifting with calm ease, “Thorlak,” as if it were obvious.



@Valena
QUOTE
Simulucra
Copper level
24 years
Mare

9 Posts

Simulacrum
#3
Valena the poisonous
As though sensing Valena’s need for sound and for some element of familiarity a serpentine form hisses softly, poking its scaled head out from beneath the curtain of ebony and emerald locks. No small amount of relief flickers like a flame in Valena’s heart, though guilt intertwines itself for though the poisonous mare is greatly pleased to find her companion had survived whatever perils had befallen them, it was not until now that she thought to check. Though Valena was a purely selfish creature, Hemlock was possibly the only being she felt any form of loyalty towards and despite her self-centred nature, she should have spared a thought for her bonded.

“We will be fine.” The woman assures the Lesser Basilisk, steeling her heart as she once again casts her sultry gaze around, determination building up. She was Valena, one of the most esteemed members ex-members of the Viper’s Guild, a new land was no trial.

Allowing the training, so engrained in her being, to take a hold, the femme tastes the air finding the acrid tang of metal among the scent of salt. Scraps of it litter the beach in an ugly display, an odd think Valena realises. The perfume of many equines all mixed together also hangs heavy in the breeze, some old and some fresh but none close by. A breeze draws away from the ocean, carrying her scent upwind to anyone who might be in range. Valena curses beneath her breath in a rather unladylike manner. It couldn’t be helped.

Moving with a predatory though seductive grace she heads west, alert though not obviously so. The first lesson Valena learnt whilst among the Vipers was to allow everyone to underestimate her. The femme appeared nothing more than some high class harlot, perhaps the bored daughter of a nobleman or maybe even a courtesan looking for better places. But never the highly trained assassin that she was.

Catching a soft glow in the midmorning sun Valena quickened her pace, coming to a somewhat dumbfounded halt before a swirl of colour and light. Alanaris was home to a great many fantastical and magic things but the mare had never before seen a portal, only having learnt about them from books. The Vipers did not concern themselves with such things. Inspecting it cautiously she turned her gaze to the basilisk now unwinding from her neck.

“That answers how we got here.”

Knowing that where they were portals there were other beings Valena continues on, mismatched gaze fixed upon the horizon in the hope she might locate something of significance besides all this sand.

It seems her hopes are answered when a deep voice is carried only just audible over the soft waves and gentle breeze. A sultry smile traced its way across her lips as she turns in the direction of the voice, a buckskin stallion crowned in curved horns graces her line of sight. Hips swaying with a seductive lilt she approaches him as he her, urging Hemlock to hide her head in her hair. Simply a rather scaly scarf now. Though the easy smile decorates her face, beneath the mask of a femme Valena assesses everything about the man. Curiously a large ox trails somewhat hesitantly behind the equine though she rests her gaze on him no longer than necessary, instead focusing on the stallion who’s confident grin lights up his face.

At his words she allows herself the flattered glimmer in her bi-colour eyes though internally she's processing and storing the little tidbit of info.

“Why thank you.” She smirks her voice a husky, honey melody. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Thorlak, I’m Valena. If you know how I got here, perhaps you can tell me where here actually is?”


speech
@Thorlak your writing style is beautiful!
QUOTE
Simulucra
Copper level
25 years
Male

8 Posts

Simulacrum
#4
The story goes
Or the way that I was told
There was a king that always felt too high
And then he fell too low
Soft, strange undulating sounds surround the foursome --
Or is it just the forces ‒ (magnetic, gravitational, tidal) ‒ that emanate from them, those strange, soaring portals, moving inside of the body. Like a beat. A wardrum. A ritual percussion. A weird, arousing, warning, compelling power that sews dimensions together. Strong. Indeed, strong enough to drag this mesmerizing, venom-green woman ‒ and her scaled friend ‒ across swathes of time and space. Through rifts between worlds and planets and atmospheres. (A dark ear twitches back towards a standing gateway at his rear ‒ a careful, listening gesture, like a preything lending sense to a shift in a bush.) An opportunity. An omen. A mystery unravelling on streamers of golden sand.

None of this, of course, has crossed Thorlak’s mind just yet ‒ for he sees the shapeliness, and it renders him half-devout to a base existence. (Half, always, to gainful pursuits, of a great many kinds.) His pale, guarded eyes glint with merriment, as much a welcome as it could be, perhaps, overwelcome, if he is rather unlucky. The sly grin on his lips enduring as she speaks, like honey and something distinctly sharper in the aftertaste. It is the reluctant ox that shorts and shakes his head ‒ the thin silvery chain swaying and listing on a curved horn ‒ waxing philosophical, and drawing Thorlak from his daydream of hips and lips. (Focus, man.) “Ay, Valena. His gaze traces down her neck, nostrils flaring at the sight of the reptilian, thrown across her neck as prettily as a choker; as dangerously, he supposes, as a necklace of thorns, should it be crossed. “Of course, you’re not like any native-born Inherent, that’s for sure.”

He shifts his weight, eyes casting for a moment across the beach, out to the lands surrounding. Halcyon Prominence. Willow Marsh. Cobalt Steppe; beyond which, he lives in the caverns of Nightstorm Haunt, nearby the heart if the Simulacra, itself. “It is my honour to welcome you to Starwave, then.” He inhales deep, filling his broad chest with metallic, briny air. “Truth be, you are the first portal crosser I have had the pleasure of meeting on Tideless.” She seems unharmed. Almost entirely unphased, actually, which means her passage was peaceful or passed without consciousness. Or, perhaps, she is better off here than where she came ‒ a fugitive of some sort. Or, she’s a damn good actress. “This must all be very overwhelming.” His eyes settle on her again ‒ intense and roguish ‒ “good thing I’ve come across ye’.” There is a slight grimness to it, a shadow that passes ‒ an acknowledgement off all that could have been. A war machine ‒ are there machines where she comes from? ‒ scouring for vulnerability. A less-than-welcoming Inherent.

“I can show you ‘round ‒ this is Tideless Shore. Those, well, portals. Familiar ‘nough with them,” he turns, instinctively, towards the northwest and Cobalt Steppe, gesturing, “where are ye’ from, then?” he watches, with keen curiosity, eyeing the little talons of that reptile, clinging to its mistress.



@Valena oof these two have some fun potential, poor Thor
QUOTE
Simulucra
Copper level
24 years
Mare

9 Posts

Simulacrum
#5
Valena
She wore a smile
Perhaps the reason Valena had thrived so well among the Viper’s Guild, so differently to many of the other Vipers, was due to her ability to multi-task. You could guarantee that whilst she was talking to you she was maintaining her mask, scanning the area and listening out for anything that might be a threat. The others used to mock her for being a control freak, and of course she would adamantly deny them but in truth, Valena needed to feel some level of control. As she breathed evenly, forced herself to relax and fought back the fear that nibbled her façade the poison-dripped mare could feel the rhythmic pulse of energy on the beach. It made her heart leap, her own being thrum with the pure power of it, the only thing keeping her from turning her head up to the sky and breathing it all in was the stallion standing before her. Thankfully this Thorlak spent much of his attention on her form- she could see his cheery gaze roving her bi-coloured body and of course Valena would be lying if she said she didn’t arch her neck a little more and lean her weight to one leg, better displaying her enviable form. It was habit by now, training engrained in her very soul- she could almost hear the Viper Matron’s voice as the words ‘the best way to control someone is to capture their heart’. But Valena had a feeling she needn’t try too hard to with this man, he seemed genuinely helpful by nature. No, this time the flirtation was for fun.

At the steed’s words a melodic laugh escapes her dark lips. “The native-borns can’t be as fun as me then.” She jokes, winking with her emerald ocular. As Thorlak casts his gaze momentarily across the land behind them Valena allows herself a subtle analysis of him. He is handsome, she supposes, muscular though not overly so and certainly very tall. There’s a roguish playful nature about him, if she could hazard a guess she’d peg him as a mercenary.

“Starwave hmm…do many others cross the portals?” Though Valena’s face was the picture of calm with a pinch of flirtation, underneath she was beginning to wonder whether she would be able to get back to Alanaris. There was little for her there- she’d left the Vipers and they probably wouldn’t be pleased to find she’d taken most of their riches with her even if it was now deposited safely in a secure location back in Alanaris. Perhaps this land would be a fresh start for her.

With an inclination of her head she admits; “it is a little.” The dark undertone to his words does not go amiss, not when Valena is used to a world with dangers. “I take it Starwave is not as quiet and peaceful as this beach suggests?” Cocking an eyebrow she gives a conspiratorial grin. “I am very glad it was you who came across me,” she turns her head left, gazing out in the distance with a smirk upon her lips, “it could have been a far less handsome stallion who found me.”

Turning back she tips her head to one side, luscious locks cascading down her neck and revealing Hemlock’s draconic head as the Lesser Basilisk watches the exchanged with wide eyes. Valena found it laughable really, how timid her companion was despite being an incredibly dangerous creature. She wouldn’t change her bonded for the world however.

“I would love a tour! Perhaps you can tell me all about Starwave!” Valena comes to his left side, alert in case this stallion is not as friendly as he makes out. Though Valena despised getting her hooves dirty with the Viper Guild of assassins, she was not so proud as to for-go any self-defence training. “I’m from Anvidian in Alanaris, I guess it is far away from here, and not like Starwave at all.” The emerald and onyx femme finds herself almost missing the dirty cobbled streets of Anvidian, with the buildings all too close together. At least it was far easier to blend in when there was no spaced to breathe.



Like a loaded gun
I | C

@Thorlak yes these two are gonna be fun lol i feel bad for Thorlak, Val is awful aha but don't worry, she's not interested in manipulating him or anything xD
QUOTE
Simulucra
Copper level
25 years
Male

8 Posts

Simulacrum
#6
The story goes
Or the way that I was told
There was a king that always felt too high
And then he fell too low
Smooth, like a unrippled pane of water. Oh, she is good. 
She wields herself like a finely honed blade. 
She’d make a fine merchant, as his mother had, with all the wiles and curves to serve her well. He knows an intelligent woman when he sees one, he was raised far too close to that self-same bosom to be unawares. Valena, no doubt, is a different nature of the breed. His mother never drew a dagger down the belly of a foolish rouge ‒ (though the whispered rumour that it was Sibbe who orchestrated the ambush on Styrlak would die only when all the tongues able to wag that tale were stilled, themselves). And he? Oblivious, obedient to an ancient thing. Primal, feral, heady aims ‒ women, tine, flesh, food, merrymaking; power for power's sake until it sits across his shoulder blades like a mantle of metal and deer skins. He is a ribald mixture of his parents ‒ (isn’t everyone?) ‒ of his parents, and of the fast-and-eager nature of their affair.

The mechanical bull huffs metallically. His strange, faint, headlight eyes wandering warily from the portals to the basilisk around the stranger-woman’s throat. The anchor. The weight that holds the merchantman at bay ‒ the rumbling voice that says focus and cut it out before you get us both killed. (But once or twice, has Thorlak seen the old ox let loose, and that was a sight to behold!) Now, he urges Thorlak onwards, going so far as to lightly spur his hind with a metal horn. Away from the thrumming portals, with or without the woman, it matters little not Baldur.
Shhh- the stallion hisses warningly under his breath, pale eyes unwavering from the woman. Cockeyed grin unmoving. “Ahh, I wager not.” His jaw shifts in thought. The vividity and blackness of her is a true novelty on this planet ‒ where a child born like her here, he couldn’t quite be sure what would be done with it. Styr herself is shunned by the Simulacra merely for her aberrant paleness. “Mmm, you are… exotic. Heh‒ your colour it’s… unusual.” Concern, confusion, allure, all in the deep bass of his voice.

It had not been long since the portals hummed to life ‒ an opportunity, yes. It would be a bald-faced lie to say he had not experienced the same creeping, clutching anxiety as everyone else. As anyone would have if mysterious rifts split open on the borders of their very home! Nobody had been sure what would come through. As it were, equines had ‒ though uncanny and alien, still made from the same image as the Inherent. Still, they stand as ominous doorways, and not a single soul in Starwave can be sure that those like Valena are not all they will bear through. 

“Enough, as rumor has it. They were dead for a long time, these things.” His eyes pass over the stone monuments, and if he did not have the countenance of a patriarch, he would have shivered. “Well, not that I doubt your fortitude, but, ay, there’s a little more to this place than calm waters and nice beaches,” he tilts his horned head, puffs his chest and huff out a small chortle at her ‘handsome’ comment (yes, she is good). “Beasts, machines and Inherent, all ‒ it’s important you know this, but ye might imagine not everyone is as warmly welcoming to the portal crossers as I am,” he winks, but the severity of his words, he is sure, will not be lost on her. “Yer a unknown kind ‒ it’ll take time.”

Thor strides on when she joins his side ‒ the groaning of pistons and gears behind, as Baldur follows ‒ “well, there are three tribes in Starwave ‒ you’ve got the Hylan, up far-north, in Whitecrest. Superstitious folk, they are. The Onyx, in Mirror Falls. Harmless, mostly. And, the Simulacra ‒ another lucky strike, ye’ve happened on one of us. Beyond the Tideless Shore, this way, is Cobalt Steppe. I’ll show ye to Nightstorm Haunt, home of my tribe, first.” His ears twitch and scan as they walk, listening curiously to her, and to for the rumble or hiss of machinery nearby. “Alanaris, eh? Never heard of it.” But then, there is nought beyond the moon of Starwave, Loskilia, Etrox and Estrad. Not until the portals, anyway. “Hmm, your machines less hostile? Hah! That’d be a treat,” he laughs, low and rowdy, and strides on.



@Valena that is reassuring, though he'd be a simple target, lets be honest
QUOTE


Forum Jump:


Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)
Theme created by Gotham's Reckoning. Powered By MyBB, © 2002-2019 MyBB Group. Wild Equines v3