Legends ofAmarna

Warning! The anathema is here.

The doctrine that poisoned the souls of many, that wrought blood against blood, life against life. Aspasia has not been the same, nor will it ever be. As history fades into legend, and legend into myth, so too are the whispers of peace that had once brought each of the races together in harmony. As such a time faded into history, so does the chaos grow - the resentment that breeds loathing - that brings about war.

With the world pitted against each other, each race, equines, canines, and felines taking sides, the question is, which side will you choose?

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played by TrinitySilph

Gidran x Thoroughbred



The waves rushed against the ash-pink sand in a roar like thunder and a hissing whisper.
Rush-boom. Rush-boom.

Brine on the air. It bathed everything in salt and rot, and the gulls shrieked news of shellfish and kelp and bright silver scales under the surface.

They'd left him in the dark. In the dark and the damp, where his only company was the infernal dripping of some mouldy old stone somewhere in the distance and the occasional rat as it skittered by. When his brute of a gaoler came slouching by to toss him whatever scraps were passing for food that day, it would be his daily ration of human company. ...If you could call the man human. He looked like something a gargoyle vomited after a particularly entertaining night of debauchery in the city's glorious downtown core, but at least the light from the hallway would blind the prisoner enough that he couldn't see the disgusting details of the oaf's face. They'd left him in the dark so long that the dim light of a sputtering torch was too much for him. Illoneus sighed, and the sound reverberated dully around his stone cell. He ached so badly from sitting on the damp floor for so long, but it certainly wouldn't help to move – everywhere else was just as bad and besides, he could only get so far with his wrists chained to the walls. His magic was gone, his wealth stripped from him, his name and glory torn to shreds by that lying bitch to whom he'd offered his very heart.

He would die here, alone in the dark. All he had left was despair.

A lone figure lay in the shallows, washed ashore amidst the driftwood and seemingly just as waterlogged and lifeless. He wore rags and heavy shackles, and it was a miracle that he hadn't been dragged down to the bottom of the briny blue. A couple hundred metres up or down the coast and he would have been caught by the undertow.

Voices and footsteps echoed down the lonely hall and Illoneus frowned slightly in the dark. It was definitely more than one person, and he knew the gaoler's footsteps well enough by now to know that the brute wasn't one of them.

Who in the world would want to be down here? Fresh meat, he supposed, but it wasn't often that someone was caught performing magic as heinous as necromancy. When the footsteps stopped at his door and he heard the click of a key in his lock, the mage blinked in surprise. Someone was visiting... him? But who? He had no family in all the world and even if he did, no one but guards and lawyers could visit those imprisoned this low. With his guilt so decisively in place, he had doubted he'd ever see another face but his gargoyle of a gaoler.

Illoneus's thoughts didn't have a chance to get any further before the door swung open and the relatively furious light of the miserable little torch outside his door tore into his eyes like knives. He hissed faintly with the pain of it and threw up an arm to shade his face. The irony of that was not lost on the former fire mage. Once upon a time he could have cloaked himself in that fire, made it dance like a beautiful woman. But now... now he was nothing.

He couldn't see who his guest was beyond a hazy silhouette, but by his voice alone Illoneus could tell this was someone he had never met in his life.

Glad to see they've made you comfortable,” the man quipped. “Mind if I join you?”

He chuckled softly, wry and bitter, at the statement. The first actual words he'd heard in months, and it was small-talk. Typical. “No, please. Sit – make yourself at home. There's probably a nice puddle for you somewhere.”

The mage was suddenly acutely aware of the state of his hair, the way his glorious red mane was so unwashed and unkempt, knotted nearly into dreadlocks and not even in that sexy way some people pulled into a fabulous horsetail.
And his /clothes/... gods above, his /clothes./ The rags he was wearing were robes once, brilliant red and teal accented with gold. They were silk and velvet and /gorgeous/ but now they were ratty and damp and probably as mouldy as this godsforsaken cell. Illoneus was numb to it by now, but he was sure he must smell awful... 'What a waste of a first impression,' he thought. 'What a waste.'

A gull landed near the body as the tide rushed back out. It plucked curiously at his hair, the rags trying to pass themselves off as clothes. He didn't stir. The brave gull plucked at the shining chains locked into the corpse's hair. Still nothing. The gull hopped onto his chest to better examine this strange dead thing... and it moved.

It's so dark in here... let me light things up, yes?” Before Illoneus could protest, the stranger had called up a little cluster of witchfire globes to ignite the room in golden light.
Illoneus grimaced as his eyes snapped shut and he shielded his eyes again.
“Ah!” The stranger dimmed the light to near-darkness again. “I'm so sorry – that must be terribly bright for you!”

“Bright, yes, well... I suppose you need to see.” Illoneus couldn't keep the irritated bitterness from his voice. Once upon a time he had revelled in the light, but now he could barely stand it. How could he have let himself fall so low? The indignity was unbearable. The stranger gave a little introduction, introducing himself as an inquisitor for the council's legal team, and Illoneus shifted slightly to get more comfortable against the wall, letting his arm lay lazily over his eyes so he didn't have to endure the light. Apparently the man was here to interrogate him all the more about his supposed crimes.

Pleasure to meet you, officer, but let's get one thing very clear: I didn't perform any damn necromancy.” He was sure the other man heard it every day. 'I didn't do it. It wasn't me. I was framed!' It was probably the soundtrack of his whole damn life but in this one case it was true. Illoneus had never touched a rune of necromancy and he never would if he could help it. He certainly never would down here. The blasted things were rotten – everyone knew that. Everyone with half a brain cell knew getting involved with necromancy rotted you from the inside out. It twisted whatever light you had and broke it down until you were as living dead as the things you raised. Who would want to try to find a fashionable wardrobe for a body like a living corpse?
Not Illoneus, thank you very much.

The corpse coughed, spitting up a lungful of sea water, and the gull screeched into the air in a raucous din of scrambling wings. Illoneus didn't care. He wasn't even entirely aware of the bird, just that another wave was rushing over him – apparently the sea was very much intent on drowning him, and hopefully before he was fully awake.
He rolled onto his back, spluttering and coughing, and slowly began to claw his way out of the shallows and onto drier sand. Was any of it dry? He was far too waterlogged to tell. Sand and salt and sea water were everywhere, weighing him down, destroying what was left of his clothes, crusting in his hair.

“I believe you.”
Illoneus blinked. “You do?”
“I do. And I'm not the only one. Na--”
“Don't say her name!” Illoneus snarled before the inquisitor could utter it.
“Sorry. Just 'she' then. Her story was too clean, too flawless. Nothing's ever totally flawless with mages. There's always something else at play and it's almost always obvious if you know where to look.”
Illoneus grunted. “There was something else, alright – she was working with those bastards on the council. They hate me – they've always hated me. I got too powerful, too much of a challenge... so they got in close and ruined me.”

The inquisitor looked pensive. “That's what I thought. So... do you want to get out of here?”
“Of course I do,” the former mage scoffed. “But there's no way. This pit is a hundred floors deep and under a gods-forsaken lake. I can't see, I could hardly move even without the chains, and in case you didn't notice, there's a gargoyle doing the rounds in the halls. There's no way I'd ever make it past the door.”
“What if I told you there's a plan?”
This piqued his curiosity. “What kind of plan?”
“The kind that gets you out and away long enough to testify against the whole damn council for corruption.”
“I'm listening.”

First things first: What have they got on you? Defensively, I mean. Just the chains? Are they warded? Hexed? Cursed? How often do the guards come by? Do you have any sense of a routine?”

He shook his head. “I can't hear much of anything in here until they're close, and my sense of time is all scrambled. Someone comes by pretty frequently, though – patrol, plus two meals a day.”

Gods... was there any chance at all?

“The chains are iron, magic-disrupting, and heavy as hell. Dunno what kind of damage they can take, but they're just a precaution anyway – the real deal is in my skin.” Not that it was particularly visible, of course, but he could feel the curse runes in his flesh like horrible, itching bugs. He'd had to get used to the awful crawling sensation – if he hadn't, they would have driven him mad. “Curse runes. Nasty shit...”

The inquisitor listened to all this calmly, nodding thoughtfully at every point.
“I see... well... Plan A was to sneak you out when a guard wasn't looking, but if they're patrolling that often... Plan B is to knock one out, steal his clothes, and sneak you by the others in costume.”

The thought of putting on that bastard's awful, grimy uniform was almost enough to make Illoneus gag. “You've gotta be kidding me...” he groaned. “Oh... this just gets worse. ... Fine. I'll limp out of here blind, in whatever disgusting rags he's passing off as clothes. You'll have to be our mage, though. I won't be any use at all...”

And even the torches in this godsforsaken pit would blind him if they tried it. He longed for the warm, elegant glow of fire, but now he couldn't even look at it – how insufferable.
... I suppose I should try to look at something brighter than a shadow if this is going to work... dim your glow, hmm? We'll start small – just an ember in the palm of your hand, please.”

The inquisitor brightened immediately and offered a single ember-like firefly in one palm.
“My name's Jan, by the way,” he said as Illoneus slowly worked towards looking at it. It seemed so bright... like a little star... a minute sun. “Glad to be working with you!”
Illoneus smiled a little, hopeful for the first time in an age. “Nice to meet you, Jan. I'm Illoneus.”

Illoneus dragged himself as far as he could, then slumped against the dead old trunk of a tree that had washed ashore maybe months ago. It was well entrenched in the sand and made a lovely prop for the weary sorcerer. He felt so heavy, so weak, so tired. He never wanted to go anywhere near the ocean again.

The plan had worked, to an extent. It had taken weeks of Jan's visits, endless practice looking at embers, then candlelight, then torches, but he was still sensitive to anything too bright – there wasn't nearly enough time for the exposure he really needed.
More difficult was getting him back on his feet. Jan had needed to smuggle in little vials of healing salves and potions from an allied hedgewitch until Illoneus was finally able to move in more than painful twitches again, and the trial of standing while weighted down by heavy shackles and chains had been more than Illoneus thought he could bear.

But finally, after three excruciating months, he was in fair enough shape to attempt the plan. Jan had somehow managed to smuggle in a pair of bolt cutters, and why he hadn't tried for a skeleton key or lock picks was so far beyond Illoneus that the answer may as well have been in on the moon. In hindsight, this was likely what had triggered the guards' notice. That or the struggle that had ensued when Jan tried to knock out the gaoler and failed miserably.

Jan had managed to knock the gargoyle out and help Illoneus dress in his disgusting uniform. They slunk up to the first checkpoint... and were immediately caught by the other guards. There was a struggle and Jan used his last resort: a portal leading everywhere and nowhere opened up under Illoneus's feet and he fell through. The last he saw of his world was the guards arresting Jan in that horrible pit deep beneath the lake, then Illoneus splashed into the sea.

He didn't know how long he was in the water for, just that it was dark and stormy and if it hadn't been for the driftwood churning around in the surf with him, he would have drowned. He clung to it like a rat as his shackles tried to pull him under, and must have passed out close to shore, for the next thing he remembered was waking on the beach and a vague impression of something jumping off his chest. It was morning now, cold and damp and misty, and he had no idea where he was or what to do. He was free... but the curse runes remained. He could feel them under his skin. The shackles remained. They weighed his wrists down to press into the sand like paperweights. He was lost and alone and helpless. What kind of life was this?
But... at least he wasn't in the pit anymore.
He began to laugh, and it came out raspy and hoarse and sobbing and bitterly exhausted.

At least he wasn't in the pit anymore.

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played by Camy

Devil Equine


Serus Vapos

Who let the devil out?

The frightened call of the annoying yet dependable seagull grabbed Serus' attention as he traveled through the lands he didn't know well.  Did he go to this beach before?  Hell if he knew.  Or did that work for his home?  As he slunk in the shadows, his magic seeping out to cover his eyes a bit.  He'd forgotten how bright the sun was, even in the shade.  Then he heard it.  The sound of someone grasping for air after getting rid of water, he saw the figure up ahead and began to walk before he decided to just float since, while he was from hell, the sand was just SCORCHING hot, even for him!  Okay not really.  It was just his thing to float, to spook the ignorant equines who didn't know of such...magic.  Was it magic?  Or a curse?  

Rather than be cautious, he sang a little hum as he made his way over to the very golden - flamey, yes that was better.  With...shackles.  Oh, an escapee~!  One of his top 10 favorites to tease and poke fun at.  8th best, however...depending on who he met recently and how they reacted versus the ones before.  Now the said one was laughing, which wasn't like Serus'.  It sounded...too feely.  The ranking for this one shot up to 3rd...for now. "Well, well."  Serus cringed, immediately stopped himself.  Ugh that sounded so cheesy.  "Hey there, flamey-looking." Loads better.  "First time I've seen - no, it's been a while since I've met someone who escaped being locked up.  So, what's your story, darling~?"  

He settled on floating above the stranger, wanting to get a good look over.  Tattered clothes, crusty looking hair and fur.  Looked like they were in the sea for who knows how long.  Tough and beefy.  Serus grinned, his fangs although short, were pearly against his black fur and orange mouth inside.  "I'm free right now to listen to it all.  Bored and all, wanting some-...-thing stimulating."  And perhaps poke fun.  

@Illoneus | OOC: He's here |D I'm so sorry.

Table by Camy
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played by TrinitySilph

Gidran x Thoroughbred



For a brief time, it was just him and the sea and the sky and the sand. The gulls, however curious, didn't want anything to do with his laughter, so the mage lay alone, flexing his fingers in the sand just to feel it.
What bliss it was to feel the breeze, to smell something other than mould, to see the sky... or it would have been, if his dark-spoiled eyes could have seen more than a brilliant white blur. Still, such light. How beautiful was that endless white, that sightless, blinding glare. He had to close his eyes to guard against the sensation that it was boring into his very skull, but even this was so much better than the eternal dark of the pit.

Eventually, a shadow fell over his prone form, and he dared open one eye only to snap it shut, blinded all over again. A huge, spindly figure loomed over him. A horse...? A demon horse, probably... Illoneus wondered briefly if his own equine form was trapped behind the wards in his skin the same as his fire magic, but pushed the thought aside for later. When one was at the mercy of a potential enemy was no time to be musing over one's strengths and weaknesses.
It spoke and he grimaced.

”Why by the Light should I tell you anything?” he retorted. Damn... he was powerless like this. Helpless. Who knew what this thing wanted? Illoneus made a vow to himself in that moment – he would fight and die rather than go back in the dark.
”Who the hell even are you?”

Serus Vapos
Tried to clear it up a bit in this post because I forgot to in my novel, but he's in his human form right now... =3
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