Welcome to Slidr River Valley, home to the strong, the brave, and the resilient. Challenging the odds surmounting against them, the Houses of equine fight in a power struggle for ultimate control over the Valley. With the Bloodless fading away after the First Great Winter of Three, Fimbulvetr, the Slidr River Valley is in a state of discord as the Houses throw themselves into an arms race for power. From predators to the gods themselves every day ushers in a new obstacle to overcome. Fimbulvetr is a literate intermediate-advanced fantasy horse role-play with a survivalist concept. The environment is designed to work against your characters as they move forward in their journey through the arcana riddled realm of Slidr River Valley. With an immense history and lore, we encourage our members to create locals and "outsiders" alike.

▶︎ 07.02.18 Mod auditions, SWP updates, and OTM announcements, oh my! (Read more!)

06.25.18 OTM nominations are open for July! (Read more!)

06.10.18 A much needed (brief) update has been posted. (Read more!)

03.27.18 Several OOC actions can now be redeemed for crystals! (Read more!)

03.21.18 The Slidr River Valley now has a (wip) map! (Find it here!)

03.12.18 Fim has some new staff! Congratulate Briallu and Randalin next time you seen them! (Read more!)

03.05.18 Moderator auditions are upon us! Think you can benefit Fim as a staff member? (Read more!)

02.28.18 Clarifications have been made to the "How To Join" section of the guide book, and OTMs have been announced! (Read More!)

02.25.18 OTM voting has opened! Select your winners today! (Read more!)

02.21.18 OTM nominations are open! (Read more!)

02.14.18 Happy Valentine's Day everyone! Fim is announcing Auditions for the Ambrosius Sovereign and a new Spiritborne! (Read more!)

02.13.18 "Kcsssh, Houston, we're ready for landing..." You heard it! The new Fim is open! (Read more!)

Summer Year One | The sun is high and it is long, and with it as are the days. Summer has claimed the entirety of the Slidr River Valley and in doing so has cast higher, comportable temperatures throughout the Southern and Central territories. The Western still boasts snow capped mountains, but mud slides are frequent and they are heavy. The North remains green, just warm enough to cultivate and brood the new life there, but the further you tred the lower the temperatures fall, their mountains still ice cladden and snow tipped. The East, the poor souls, is sweltering. At night the temperatures drop to the Valley's daily warmth. Little can be done to add comfort, and each day the Oasis becomes drier and drier...

▶︎ 06.14.18 SWP alert! The gory remains of killings litter the Red Wood's Last Stand. What could this mean for the Valley? Read more!

05.15.18 Vromme's throne has been claimed! All hail Geminus!

04.28.18 Vromme's throne is empty and needs a new Sovereign! (Read more!)

04.07.18 Strange forces awaken in the territories! What ever could have caused them? Ambrosius, Vromme, Tryggr, and Exiles. And Andante takes the Tryggr throne!

03.13.18 An Ambrosius Sovereign rises; long live Caelian!

02.15.18 An aurora borealis is shining at Smár Lake! Check it out!

Character of the Month

Halani!

Thread of the Month

Blood Moon Rising!
Ad & Aff Plotting Updates FAQ Arcana History Graphics Discord

[O] | on the edge of nothing

Evandr

The Warden
Spiritborne
Stallion
20hh
8 Summer ☀︎
played by Soupi
30 crystals
19 posts

Evandr

Herculean legs carried the massive beast through the rust crag of the Point. Rest had fallen over the Slidr River Valley - to their luck - and exiles had been sparse. Were the monarchs benelovent? Had they finally found peace? The Warden didn't quite think the Valley knew what peace was, perhaps save for the Ambrosius' enforced serenity. It was all a mask, afterall. While those holds North were under the every watchful gaze of the God-bear they could rest cozy in their mountain, unafraid and traipsing without caution. It made him sick.

There's a deep, heaving snort that billows through his pink nostrils to shoo away the wayward thoughts of his mind's eye. He was here as a watcher, not as a bitter castaway. Legs stained from the Wasteland sands, the beast crested the final outcropping and came to the edge of the East. Tawny hooves planted themselves at the border, and a heavy, stern gaze befell the lands of the Slidr River Valley in hues of ice that rivaled the hot sands beyond him. Below they sat in their vales and mountains, reaping all they pleased from the sustence that grew there. Blooming with autumnal colors, green was still fresh, and most leaves had hardly shed from their trees. The Laurel Alps far to the West sat faintly on the horizon, most likely buried heavily with snowfall already. Another agitated snort burned in his nostrils, and his slit gaze and stony visage turned to the staircase.

Part of him had hoped, just some how, just some way, someone would be walking up those jagged stones. His di-colored audits perked, trying to hone in and listen through the roar of the rapids far below the ravine, but there was nothing there besides their engorged hiss. Visage lowering so that it hung comfortably, the intensity coiled in the stallion's frame unraveled with a sigh. A hind cocked, and his pale, icy gaze fell upon the Valley hooded with fatigue. Perhaps it was foolish to traverse the Waste and leave the Oasis behind for a few days. But, he was the Warden. Their safety was his primary concern, and who knew what the future held in their funneled hell if the mainland was veiled in mystery. And here it was, sprawling before him, veiled in nothing more than autumn fog.

It was all a fool's errand afterall. After the years of hard work and the years of training he'd finally usurped the tyrant Saren to simply piddle away his time being more concerned with what transpired outside of the wastelands than within them. His visage shook, upending coils of messy obsidian hair so that they full along his nape in a mess. Sweat stains revealed themselves beneath the heavy dreads that had fallen differently before. The wind kissed them and it sent chills prickling along his coat were the sweat cooled, and for once he was glad for it. The behemoth drug his heavily feathered hooves across the stones, and with a sweep his muzzle turned to the East with a high head carriage. The wastes... it was all he knew, and all he needed to concern himself with. Perhaps if his mother had not been cast aside like spoiled goods before his birth things would have been differnt for him, but Evandr knew better than to spend too much time on fairytales.


WC: 564
Tagged: Open





powerplay excused
within reasonable limits!
always tag responses.
@[Evandr]


Aishe

Exile
Equine
Mare
10hh
6 Summer ☀︎
played by N A K I
60 crystals
5 posts
The days had drawn into weeks after her health recovered. And while the young donkey had little interest in returning to the Oasis, part of her had been ultimately curious. The Usurper had been a sight to see--though she expected something of a similarity to Saren. When the nights dragged on and the mornings came bathing the wastelands in strange colors, it became clear the man-now-warden was different. She'd be lying if she told you it didn't impress her, and she'd also be lying if she said there wasn't any skepticism bouncing around in her head.

Aishe had seen enough in this shitty world to always be skeptical, even if proof is staring her in the face.

A small huff of air passes through her nose. The dust kicks up around her legs, the golden bands twinkle in the sun. It's hot, it's always hot--even when the lowlands are freezing to death in their petty castles. Yet Aishe finds comfort in it, even when it seems as if the sun would slay the entirety of the band itself. Pink catches a glimpse of the edge, the lands below where nobles play and eat and grow fat; Aishe cannot remember if she had ever been anywhere else but the wastes. There was a time when she had been curious, wondering and fantasizing about what noble life looked like--lavish parties, endless wine, a bunch of cute men all wanting to dance with her--but it was childlike foolishness. At he heart she was a nomad, nothing could ever change that. Whatever life her mother had been fleeing, it mattered not.

From her peripheral she catches a hulking silhouette, turning her stout head to catch who it belonged to. The usurper, the savior of the oasis stood but strides from where she'd come to stop. For a moment, Aishe takes in what colors she can see against the light; deep purples and whites, ridges of bone she guesses--or maybe stone? His hair is thick and wavy, built like a tank. A scoff dares escape her lips at the thought of him being flaunted over by all the other mares--the ones who dubbed him with such a messianic title behind his back. Hero-worship left a bad taste in her mouth.

Regardless, she approaches with a tense air surrounding her. She has height on her side, far more agile should he strike out against her. In the back of her mind she hopes this is not the case, but, fairy tales were bullshit; there was not such thing as knights in shining armor.

"Makes you wonder if they remember we are here, no?"

ooc: forgive this garbage its been so long. Evandr


Evandr

The Warden
Spiritborne
Stallion
20hh
8 Summer ☀︎
played by Soupi
30 crystals
19 posts

Evandr

Dust clouds rose towards the sunkissed heavens, sinking dark plumes into a pale salmon and burnt lavender sky. Cerulean eyes slit, peering through the dunes and was surprised to find the lone donkey jenny who amongst the exiles. Her piebald coat was stained the deep red of the Wastes, one his pelt was all too familiar with as well. Thick knots and tangles at his hind flicked, and his sapphire eyes turned back towards the Slidr River Valley and it's quiet slumber. Without caution the jennet approached him, audits flicking towards her delicate hoof falls as she came to sit upon the ridge with him. She offers a curious inquiry, one that draws the faintest of choked, exasperated chuckles. Forget them indeed.

"I doubt they think of us at all, with their full bellies and warm cloaks. He can feel his bitterness on his tongue, taste the sharp distaste he holds for all equine of the Valley. Born to exile, he hadn't experienced one day of their luxury of fertile ground and a House that supported you, not wanted you slain for your false title. What was the Warden, afterall, if not a babysitter? Sure, Saren had proved rotten in the role, a toxic entity that strove to make their lives more hellish than the Svartr lands already did. At the very least he could offer them some of the drink and food the Oasis to make hell on Earth more bearable.

His thick visage turned to the woman, eyeing her maneless nape, her drab coloring that still entranced despite her otherwise understated conformation, and gave her the briefest of nods in curt greeting. "I may not be like Saren, but if you came here to escape I am upheld by duty to stop you." A phantom of hilarity shines upon his scarred face, muzzle upturning with dark mirth. "I've seen you at the Oasis, but always from afar. Plotting to assassinate me?" A deep chuckle rolled off of his lips as his head shakes. The spools of obsidian hair, just sunbleached enough that their dirtied highlights showcase with orange undertones, dance alongside his nape. Another cool, refreshing touch of chill caresses the sweaty pelt beneath and he sinks into the feeling. He knew what the frigid nightly temperatures were like, but he wondered for the briefest of moments what it felt like to have snow melt along your thick, winter pelt.

A sharp motion has him glancing back to the woman, before satisfying himself with an absent glare at the distant purple mountains again. His pink nostrils sweep wide as he stole a long drag of the dry air, letting it sit in his lungs where he swore he felt the grit of sand, before releasing it in a bursting heave. The journey back was two days at a gallop, three if one was only just pushing themselves. While he had responsibilities that brought him here, she did not. Shifting his entire bulk, he takes one step back to angle himself at her, thick feathering around his hooves quivering with the slightest of adjustments but dancing now. Black hair falls over one of his striking visionaries, but the other peers at her curiously, but benevolently, and his thick, handsome voice drips with his finally query. "Why come to the border?"


WC: 551
Tagged: Aishe





powerplay excused
within reasonable limits!
always tag responses.
@[Evandr]


Aishe

Exile
Equine
Mare
10hh
6 Summer ☀︎
played by N A K I
60 crystals
5 posts
at the end of all things

As he speaks of escape she can't help but shake her head. "No." her voice is rough a bit, throat dry and parched from lack of water. "The Wastes are my home, I care not for the lands below" Vibrant eyes turned to the Valley, wondering one final time what her life could have looked like. But it was a child's dream, and she had not been a child--not in truth.

When he speaks about her lingering presence at the Oasis, coupled with the jest of assassination, Aishe can't stifle the laughter that bubbles up from deep within her chest. He had to have been yards above her in height, a tower, and she nothing but a lowly pebble. There was no doubt in her mind he could take her in a fight, but, there was also no doubt that she would not fall so easily. For a moment her mind plays out silly scenarios about it all, eyes re-opening them after her laughter subsides. "If I had plotted against you, you'd already be dead." There is a serious but playful quality to her, one she had hidden for far so long. Aishe was drawn to him--perhaps simply because she was masochistic and enjoyed being right and also being hurt, because pain meant she was still up and kicking.

She pushed the dark thoughts aside.

"Sometimes I toss things over the edges, watching as they fall to the ground below. Most of the time it is to occupy myself and keep my distance. I did so often when...Saren...was the ruler of these parts. My size and coloration proved useful out here." she began after a moment of thought. "A few times, not long after I had been given to Saren, I had eloped to the border and considered taking my own life." Absentmindedly, she kicks a pebble from the dry earth and watches as it tumbles down the ridges and the rocks. "I doubt I'd last halfway."

"Ah, but I have damped the jovial mood." she snorts out a huff of air, flitting her eyes back to the giant that stood beside her. "May I make a suggestion? If you find any more of Saren's men, drop them from here--and let me accompany you. I do take join in listening to their end." The scary part was that even she could not distinguish which part was joke, and which part was serious.


Evandr


Evandr

The Warden
Spiritborne
Stallion
20hh
8 Summer ☀︎
played by Soupi
30 crystals
19 posts

Evandr

There was little to no hesitation in her response. First it was the shake of her visage, which he only caught out of the corner of his eye, but his observation was affirmed with her words. Raspy, surely from the built up of grit in her throat not entirely unlike his own, her words held no love for the Valleys below them. The mechanisms of his mind chewed on the comment. The Wastes are my home. It was true, for many of them. Why, was he not born here himself? His gaze followed her own, and it was one the Valley, he was sure, was used to receiving. It was of contempt, of displeasure, and, of all, judgement. The Houses served as their guards and the badlands their prison. While he held a position that required him to remain neutral with the fat, lazy rules in their mountains high and flood plains low... they were not the individuals he would have chosen as peers. None of them could offer him a deal so sweet and tantalizing that he would forsake his position among the castaways. The Valley was nothing to him but a decorative, fertile horizon lingering down below their plinth.

It was Aishe that drew him from those contemplative troves in his mind, and his visage jerked back in her direction, when her shrill laughter erupted at his dark joke. Audits twisted about his dial, though the one closest to her remained tuned, following the unseen trail of her words. "Already?" he chortled, more absently than of real purpose. It would have been a lie if Evandr claimed he had not considered that bands of exiles against him may plot such a heinous act. He understood fully the risk he had taken when placing himself in the position of power. But humor was a useful tool when it came to casting an illusion of his sense of security. "You must have hidden talents." His chuckled tapered, leaving him silent once more as his azure eyes scanned the umber jennet from tip of her ear to the onyx of her hooves. She was all but dwarfed by him, and if the charoite stallion could have an opinion, he doubted she alone fighting him would end in anything but her undoing. A stained hoof rose from the ground, the cream of its feathered muddled with the red sands of the East, and a satisfying pop announced from his shoulder allowed him to lay it back to the stone.

Audits flitted her away again, his Herclulean mug tilting her direction as to not be rude and ignore her while his gaze drifted back to the ravine and the soft greens below. Aishe spoke of tumbling rocks, of Saren, and suicide. It hardly seemed a topic of conversation House denizens would have on a quiet midday engagement, but this wasn't the realms of the houses. Dark plum lids blinked once, then twice, mulling over the idea of taking ones own life. It was a powerful act of rebellion in these parts. It wasn't uncommon for exiles to leave after several days of reclusive behavior, never to be seen again. Evandr, and others, had learned to watch for it. If anything, imprisonment brought out the ghosts that haunted someone and they were loud in the Vetr Wastelands. Louder than perhaps even the underworld. Aishe, though, from this brief meeting, seemed too strong a female to throw herself willy-nilly from the drop-off, but... Evandr hadn't witnessed all of Saren's atrocities. Who knew what she'd seen. Who could guess what she'd been used for.

"Hardly," he says immediately in response to her unnecessary apology. Jovial was fleeting in the far East. All of them knew that. It would have died soon whether she'd mentioned melancholic themes or not. But, it seemed, that today proved special. His brow rose at her inquiry, before another wrinkled grin stretched across his soft blush velvets. "I'm certain that could be arranged." her murmured, his gaze dropping down to her again for a few moments before the smile ultimately began to fade and his gaze returned to the lands who thought them lepers. A snort billowed from his nostrils and his sun-bleached mane rode upon the breeze that gusted from the Far East over the sands. It brought the dull scent of rock and dirt, of dryness and misery. Miles and miles of sand's howling rode on the winds that raced through here and sometimes he was sure he could hear their screams. "Hopefully it will not come to it." He commented absently, "I'd much rather have a reputation unlike that of Saren's tyranny. Executions are something I prepare for, but wish to avoid if possible." His visage tilted to her though his gaze remained steadfast. "But do not mistake it for weakness. I do not believe myself a king or a god here. Simply a shepard. If the flock needs to be thinned, so be it."

WC: 829
Tagged: Aishe






powerplay excused
within reasonable limits!
always tag responses.
@[Evandr]





Hosted by isoldehn. Powered by MyBB, © 2002-2018 MyBB Group. Skin by Eshye. Site premise by Soupi.