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.

▶︎ 9.9.18 We are holding an activity check! (Read more!)

8.15.18 New and improved spotlights have arrived! Vote for your Of the Season now! (Read more!)

07.25.18 Please welcome Cinder and Agrize to the staff team!

07.24.18 Mandate updates, House leadership, and new layouts! Whaaa? (Read more!)

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!)

Autumn Year 501 | The heat has broken, and the trees of the Valley begin their transition from emerald to citrine and rubine. The temperatures steadily drop as the progression of Autumn claims all of the Slidr River Valley and plunges it into the hallowed solstace. Snow already weightlessly falls from the sky on cold nights - especially to the North and West. The Laurel Alps and Frior Mountain Range begin the process of wrapping themselves in thick white blankets of snow, leaving the once purple snowcapped border of the continent a stark white crescendo on the horizon. To the East, the heat wave has finally broken. The staggering temperatures have fallen simply from the harsh miles of wind sweeping from the mountainous vales and into the bowl of the desert. Those huddling in the Frekr Oasis for salvation will find the nights frigid. Best light the plinth fires and stock up for the winter, for it is just around the corner.


▶︎ 09.17.18 Vromme's throne is once again empty! Will someone come forward to claim it? (Read more!)

09.01.18 Autumn has descended upon the Slidr River Valley and Vetr Wasteland!

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 Season

Faelan!

Thread of the Season

Blood Moon Falling!
Ad & Aff Plotting Updates FAQ Mandates Outpost Graphics Discord

[P] last sunrise in the wasteland

Equine
Mare
16.1hh
5 Winter ❅
played by Randalin
40 crystals
3 posts
Evandr

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



Her travels had taken her across too many lands over the years, both untamed and settled, but nothing prepared her for the shock of seeing a giant tree standing proud amongst the much smaller foliage a year ago. Its twirling branches disappeared into the heavens while its roots twisted their way free from the earth to form passages and as she passed through them a strange feeling spread over her body. The magic in her blood faded the deeper inside the tree she ventured. The feelings its absence invoked confused the woman, she felt simultaneous relief and sharp loss. The talent for deciphering lies the last remaining link to her father and mother and the life she led before having to go on the run. Her heart hardened into a stone covered in ice the day they were executed and the weight of her frozen heart only increased as time wore on.

It is the four year anniversary of their deaths today and she cannot think of more fitting place to spend the day coated in the blackest of memories than the beaten down land she now stands in. A perfect match to the bitter despair wrapped around her like a cloak. Every minute is counted in her head as she hears phantom echoes of the crowds gathered to watch the king himself destroy the lives of two innocent commoners; her parents. White hair drags on the ground the deeper into the harsh wastes she travels but she does not worry about such things like others of her age are prone to do. Avarice remains trapped in a past with frayed edges and vivid memories. Even while entertained by any of her lovers over the years, she remained aloof and distant from them, never encouraging emotions and only using them for the pleasure they provided her.

They served merely as a distraction from the ghosts haunting her and the paranoid feeling of being watched developed after having to constantly be on guard and trusting no one.

The wind kicks up spraying her silvered form with red-tinted dirt but she pays it no mind. There is no one here to impress or cozy up to for the use of their body. Truthfully, she cares little for the carnal acts she once found so enjoyable; rather she desires nothing more than solitude and peace. During her year in Fimbulvetr she has purposely kept herself hidden away, avoiding contact with all others. She does not trust any of the creatures on this earth and convinces herself with daily reminders, the folly of placing her faith in another being. Her thoughts turn to the elderly woman who betrayed her mere weeks after watching her only family die; the woman wanted the reward her capture would bring. A bitter taste fills her mouth, though it is not the same to the flavor a lie would have painted her tongue should her magic be unlocked, and she snarls into the wind. A growl rumbles free from her chest and she gnashes her teeth in frustration.

I would see that world burn.



Evandr

The Warden
Spiritborne
Stallion
20hh
9 Summer ☀︎
played by Soupi
120 crystals
29 posts

Evandr

Let me paint you a picture.

A lone figure stands alone in a canvas of scorched sand. Grit billows with the zephyrs as they howl across the mesa. Sharp, jagged daggers of amber pierced the cerulean skies with resentment while also encircling the flats below with their insurmountable peaks. Those taunting summits, brothers not twins to the ashen Valley brethren, rise above the brittle and cracked barrens like prison bars, offering a dull reminder to the lone, windswept stallion daring the gales to deter him.

There is a sternness to his face that cannot be acquired in a life of luxury. No, these wrinkled edges at such a early age are born from resentment, trials, and tribulation. Adversary is this man's old and constant companion. There is a shadow to his face despite the high throne of the sun, one that obscures the striking blue of his eyes. But they too harness the piercing expression of animosity. They could have been quite beautiful, once upon a time, if he had lived even the most modest of House lives. But the amaranthine piebald was of no such discourse.

Today, not unlike most, a haze of ecru blurred the horizon. Though an Oasis lay to his back some odd miles away, it was an enigma at this depth of the Wastes. It was only a recent memory that his spirit could clutch to when his lips chapped with the dry wind and the coal spines along his back burned with the glare of the sun. Even his most recent tracks are erased with the endless lashings of the wind, their mounds risen to the atmos and battering against whatever may lay in their path. Evandr's brow is furrowed, and although the initial conclusion may rise from the mask of ire, but it also copulates from the arial powder that threatened to steal away his site.

This painting, of the lone and dirtied Warden standing amongst the brittle and cracked flats of the Waste, beat by the buffets of sand swept gales, is the image an exile will meet upon their crossing. It is fitting... Not only does it demonstrate the ruthlessness of the Wastelands, but it quickly translates the tenacity and fortitude required to survive it. His visionaries slits of sapphire against a mask of plum, his rounded, hunched nape only rises when he spots the first silhouette of the arrival. Even through the density of the dusted winds he can tell that she is slender. From experience he knows that she'll need to be even more tenacious and fortified than others to survive.
It wasn't a judgement, but a fact.

She drew nearer, until the iridescent of her own piebald silver coat are distinguishable through the storm of sand. Finally Evandr rose his visage, erecting his posture to defy the zephyrs rather than bare them. Ebony locks, snarled and mangled, cascade along his nape and hindquarters like some sort of judge's mantle. It is fitting...

He says nothing. Not yet. Not now.


WC: 501
Tag: Avarice





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


Equine
Mare
16.1hh
5 Winter ❅
played by Randalin
40 crystals
3 posts
Evandr

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



She knows the moment a pair of eyes peruses her still form. The tell-tale itching and twitching of the skin between her shoulder blades never leads her astray. The only acknowledgement she grants the observer is the half-hearted twitch of a single long ear. She simply does not care. Many have spied her silvery flesh standing out amongst the greenery and will continue to do so, she has no doubt nor worry regarding the rest of the populace. As for potential predators? Again, she does not care. Come what may. Avarice is far more jaded than most after being in the crosshairs of predators of a shared species and nothing cracks that icy facade.

On any other day, she would simply turn and stare the offender down for a moment or two before slipping away to one of her many hiding places. However, today, she draws that shroud of anguish tightly around her and blocks out the world. She does not wish to spare another thought for the faceless stranger staring at her, the memories pull her back under as the itching of skin fades away under the onslaught. Unsettled by the fierceness of these recollections, she turns to head deeper into the sands despite knowing her path will carry her by whoever spies.

Avarice forces leaden limbs into movement, turning towards the entrance deeper into the hellish pit she somehow became so very fond of in recent months. Pale eyes do not sweep over towards the stranger she now sees hovering in her peripherals. She is satisfied enough that her intuition, sans magic, is proven correct in that he (she can finally put a gender to the source of a painfully obviously stare) is another equine. Huffing out a breath, she begins down the loosely defined trail that will lead her unhappily by him, but rather happily towards a favored hideaway of hers.

The closer she walks, the more she realizes how large the male is and for less than half of a heartbeat-- her steps hesitate. The guards set upon her trail often being of a similar build to the violet splotched man. A chill starts at the base of her neck and works its way down the length of her spine, but she holds the accompanying shudder firmly at bay. She has faced far too many predators to give even the slightest indication of any discomfort she may feel. Avarice keeps her cards close to her chest, her features locked in a relaxed, disinterestedly passive stare somewhere along the horizon. She does not lift her chin, like those who play at being coy and haughty, but rather continues at a sedate pace; simply as though the man is not standing there even as her hooves carry her a few yards from the tip of his nose.




Evandr

The Warden
Spiritborne
Stallion
20hh
9 Summer ☀︎
played by Soupi
120 crystals
29 posts

Evandr

There were many different faces to accepting exile. Of course, the easiest were those born to it. The sands were just an extension of their forms - for him, quite literally in recent weeks. When they set their gaze to the sands, they did not see the harsh wasteland without some admiration. It was home, whether their living conditions were favored or not. Then there were those who took their conviction with anger. Evandr had seen many put fights up along that precarious bridge and considering it now he's surprised none of them had fallen off. They were the hot-heads, the ones whose rage boiled with the aid of the sun. Typically they went rogue, thought they could live out somewhere in the wilds of the wasteland. Most never returned licking their wounded dignities.

Then there were the ones like this particular silver femme fatale. Becoming condemned meant, at least at a glance, nothing to them. Outwardly, the numb layers that had built around them encased their entire persona. Recluse, quiet, and without desire they forged into the sands and fell into a monotonous routine until someday they were forced from it or perished. As a Warden and as an involuntary and innocent exile, Evandr found the former the most perturbing. Did their life mean so little to them they found no fire in their bellies to fight for it? To piss on whoever thought this was where they belonged by striving here? Not many saw it that way, of course. It was a rare commodity, this desire to prove that the harsh terra cotta sands could prove some sort of sustenance and decent life. Hell... a snort spat from his nostrils as his lids blinked away the last trailing thought. Decent life. Even he knew that was funny. Even if they managed it, it was work. Hard, sweat riddled, and scarred work.

She approached just as silent as she had entered, traipsing past him with a low muzzle and her vision entirely entranced forward. What little 'path' there was in the sands, the female set her nose to it and followed blindly. If Evandr hadn't recently healed from an attack by a creature doing the very same thing, a cold shiver wouldn't have rolled down his back. But she did, and the minute quiver rolled. But Evandr was not some vanguard of the Wastes, nor was he a charismatic creature by nature. Sure, he appreciated conversation and company, but he wasn't going to force this woman into small chat. It'd do nothing but irritate her further, and honestly? The piebald stud wasn't in the mood for dealing with the unruly. So, wordlessly, he fell in stride behind her. If she veered from the path to the Oasis, that was her purgative. He'd remain within eyesight for a good length of time. It was difficult to disappear entirely from vision for the first couple miles. And if she still decided it best to waltz unprepared into the sands? He wouldn't stop her.


WC: 502
T A G: Avarice
M U S E: 3/5
O O C: Apparently neither of them want to talk





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





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