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

[O] and it's all you see

Faelan

Nonpartisan
Equine
Mare
15.1hh
3 Winter ❅
played by Jeanne
370 crystals
8 posts
❄ f a e l a n ❄

you wandered through the willows
in the forest you have found


She didn’t know where she was.

She didn’t know where she was, and that didn’t happen often – Faelan was an expert tracker, used to following the great trails of prey across woodland and tundra alike. Even in the deepest, darkest woods, she never felt lost among rows of trees and shrubs that might have seemed identical to the untrained eye. Navigating a cave, of course, was a different beast altogether, but not one she was unfamiliar with; all of her family’s rites and rituals took place underground, and she had experienced many of them during her long passage towards adulthood. She knew that she shouldn’t feel so disoriented – she had marked her trail with twines of her fur and markings drawn with her hooves, but it seemed to have disappeared behind her. When she reached a dead end and turned back to retrace her steps, she couldn’t even find her scent; it was as though the land itself were shifting and changing beneath her hooves, with each (progressively more tentative) step guiding her further and further off the path she had prepared. Worst of all, she had lost her family’s trail somewhere in the maze of caverns. Even if she managed to find her way out, a proposition that seemed unlikelier by the moment, she had lost her purpose for entering in the first place.

Heaving a great, tired sigh, she pushed forward down the trail she’d most recently taken (because it looked familiar, but they all did), occasionally pausing to sniff at the rocky outgrowths on the cavern floor. Was she still beneath the tree? When she looked up, in the dull light, she could see the gnarled, curling indentations of roots, though, from her angle, they seemed more like skeletal, winter-shorn branches. Faelan could not fathom the size of the tree from the outside; it seemed to stretch up into a mantle of fog, preventing her from seeing its highest boughs. Now, as she dove further and further into a messy and maze-like darkness, it seemed to her that the whiteness that obscured the trees might have been clouds, rather than fog, and she didn’t know why she didn’t notice it when she was outside of the damned thing’s root system; perhaps there was some strange magic at play, far beyond her comprehension.

Faelan was a simple hunter. Leave the magic and the rituals to the sages and the soothsayers – her interest was in more material things, or so she liked to claim.

She paused at the end of the cavern. Two branching paths spread out in front of her, both descending into darkness; she sniffed at them, sucking in deep breaths of musty air, but she didn’t smell anything reminiscent of life in either direction. She drew back, her lips curling into something reminiscent of a frustrated snarl, and she gave a low, soft growl that came back to her in resounding echoes. There was no clear path forward, but she didn’t want to take any more chances – however, as she looked back at the murky path behind her, she knew that she would have no other choice but to make a decision, however ill-informed.

Ears snapped back against her skull, she took to pacing in front of the passages, her tail lashing furiously behind her as though she hoped that more time spent on hesitation might somehow reveal the correct path for her.



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



tags | Storyteller & anyone who wants to meet a dog! (fiiinally discovered how tagging works)
notes | <3 <3 <3




@


and all that this scarcity promotes
is desperate men and tyrants


please tag Faelan! contact is encouraged, short of extreme violence


Storyteller

Moderator
Equine
Stallion
10hh
Immortal Spring ✿
played by NPC
540 crystals
101 posts

be swift!


Something is happening! Even a wolf gets lost now and again… even one who claimed customary with the realm underground. Simple hunters can become simple prey when their opponents wielded eternities of omniscient magic and unseen, deceitful cunning. Of course her tracers disappeared. Whatever ether that lived beneath the Bifrost - it’s own arcana manifested - consumed them, erased them, hide them… can’t have Faelan navigating with ease, now can we?

In a realm not entirely unlike the one she was raised, the mare had come upon two forking paths. They seem rather innocuous at first glance, but closer inspection is warranted. To the left, where the path dips acutely down and caution is warranted, scraps and upturned dirt alike suggests that something had frequented the corridor - at least within the last week or so. To the right, this path too is bathed in shadow, but it too offers a grain of evidence or intrigue. A worn, drying skull of an equine sits within an alcove, nestled on moss that has grown from within and rests lazily within the sockets. A haunted, twisted horn spirals from the forehead, tarnished and lack-luster. It’s horn points ominously down the path with the angle it has fallen to rest, as if some sort of omen.

Seems a decision is to be made.

Faelan has taken to the Bifrost. Time to navigate your way through to enter the Slidr River Valley!

Faelan

Nonpartisan
Equine
Mare
15.1hh
3 Winter ❅
played by Jeanne
370 crystals
8 posts
❄ f a e l a n ❄

you wandered through the willows
in the forest you have found



She halted in her pacing, finally, to take a proper look at the two paths that sprawled out in front of her. She didn’t want to choose at random, so she had to come up with some sort of a distinction – they couldn’t be identical, anyways. She narrowed her eyes to little slits of glowing white, peering out into the inky darkness; it was difficult to see too far ahead of her, and she wasn’t entirely sure where the dull light – that seemed to exist without direction or source – that illuminated the walls and paths was coming from, but it did provide just enough clarity to see.

To her left, she could see scuffed terrain; it looked like a set of tracks. While she couldn’t make out any particular scent, the texture looked relatively fresh, and there was enough worn, upturned dirt to suggest that the passageway was used frequently by...some creature. Whatever had left those strange tread marks – and they were strange - must have passed by recently, perhaps within the week. To the right, she could make out a moss-covered alcove. Upon it rest a horse’s skull, old enough to be partially-consumed by the moss. A great, spiraling horn protruded from the skull’s forehead, and it pointed down the passageway at a deliberate enough angle to make her wonder if it was some sort of trail marker, though for what sort of a morbid grouping she hadn’t the faintest idea.

She had the distinct feeling that, regardless of the choice she made here, she would not be returning to this fork in the road. Like those that she had already passed, even if she retracted her steps, she had a feeling that she’d find herself in an entirely different part of the caverns. (For a moment, Faelan cursed her own overconfidence, her own certainty. She had been so sure, standing on the outside, that this place would offer her no obstacle, even if it were not the forests that she was so, so achingly familiar with. But she had been wrong. She had been terribly, terribly wrong, and now she simply had to deal with the results.)

To the right, she thought, was some sort of death – decay did not attract her. In a way, the tilt of the skull’s head seemed to invoke a certain domesticity, and the source of it an attraction – or an association – with a part of her that she was not yet comfortable with. Better, she thought, to follow the trails of the living; they were sure to lead her somewhere. She’d take her chances with all the strange creatures of the wild before she reckoned with her own kin.

With a soft sigh, she pressed forward down the left path, her ears twitched up and her muscles tensed – just in case, of course, whatever creature left those tracks was in the area and unfriendly.



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



tags | Storyteller & anyone who wants to meet a dog! (fiiinally discovered how tagging works)
notes | hard choices RIP <3 <3 <3




@


and all that this scarcity promotes
is desperate men and tyrants


please tag Faelan! contact is encouraged, short of extreme violence


Storyteller

Moderator
Equine
Stallion
10hh
Immortal Spring ✿
played by NPC
540 crystals
101 posts

be swift!


Something is happening!
As the choice is made and the path decided, the air seems to thicken; hanging heavy, overripe with satisfaction and the glee of the very atmosphere. As if it has been hoping the young she-wolf would turn this way. With a lurching suddeness that would turn the bellies of even the most stonefaced general, everything that was behind the femme disapeared into nothing, shadows so all consuming as to chill the blood to ice. An elaborate llusion, or some cruel trick or reality? There could be no way to tell. What was behind her mattered not- there was only what lay ahead. The path seemed quiet, suddenly- deafeningly so. The steep incline was without motion or sound, as if the great trickster was holding it's breath. Not even the steps of her careful hooves could tempt the earth with the slightest patter of dust, though pebbles rolled merrily away when loosened from their musty perches.

Ahead of her, those same churned footprints seemed to etch themselves deeper, edges defining the shape of what were, perhaps, wickedly sharpened claws. As the female entered a larger, cavernous space, the outer edges seemed to close In with inky shadows, until only a circle of light surrounded her. Where there any paths? It was impossible to tell. As the darkness closed in, a delighted hiss seemed to echo and boom from every cell, every fiber of the reaching black, crawling into her ears from every direction, dizzying with its intensity. It seemed almost to break, snapping In uneven points like shattered glass. A horrifying moment would pass before she would recognize the sound of vicious laughter. Two glowing yellow points appeared before her, slitted as a cat's. Seeming to be made from her own light rather than any reflecting off her coat, the bedraggled form of a lioness materialized In the emptiness, flanked by sharp, messy feathers on massive wings. Splitting her bloody naw was a grin deadly with cracked, yellow teeth- as a strained, wheezing voice filled the mare's thoughts, she was able to hear one glaring statement:
"Answer me my riddle, horseling, and you may pass unharmed."


Faelan has encountered a sphinx! Will she agree to answer the riddle, or be lost to the bifrost's trickery?


Faelan

Nonpartisan
Equine
Mare
15.1hh
3 Winter ❅
played by Jeanne
370 crystals
8 posts
❄ f a e l a n ❄

you wandered through the willows
in the forest you have found



All around her, the world seemed to shift. Back home, there was a vast river that ran through the forest, and sometimes, in the early mornings or after the rain, great clouds of fog would form on the riverbank, and they would waft through the trees like passing ghosts. To Faelan, the air felt like it did when the fog came rolling in – it was thick and heavy, and it felt like it clung to the sides of her lungs in clumps that made it difficult to continue breathing. She pressed forward nonetheless, risking only a single glance over her shoulder; the path behind her fell into a senseless, obscure darkness, and, though it did not seem so far behind her, she could not see through it at all. Whatever path she had set out on, she realized now – though she had already known – that she would not be able to go back. (But she wanted to. The crown of roots above her reminded her of the forest, and the memory brought with it the sharp pang of nostalgic longing.)

As she descended further and further down the dark, predatory path, – for it felt like it was closing in around her, slowly herding her towards a little bottle-necked path where she could not escape from something incomprehensible – the tracks in the dirt begin to look a bit more like gouges, dug out by great claws. Although she still had the distinct feeling that she was being backed into a corner, the space around her seemed to widen; the darkness at its edges, however, only seemed to grow deeper and darker. If she walked too close to the edges, she thought that she might fall down, down, down – down into the deep, consuming darkness of something like oblivion. It was quiet. So quiet. Quiet as the grave.

The smell of blood hit her as quickly as a thunderclap, and then – then that sound that sent her head reeling and her stomach churning, like nails on a chalkboard but inside of her, like something cracking and crumbling and falling to pieces inside of her ears, inside of her brain, somewhere so deep, deep, deep inside of her that she couldn’t even place it. As the dizzying sound quieted, she realized that it was laughter; something was laughing at her, unseen. Probably the source of the bloody scent.

For a moment, she wishes she’d taken the other path.

Two golden specks appeared, suspended in the darkness before her. As her eyes adjusted, – or the darkness moved - she realized that they were connected to a shape, slowly coming into form in front of her. (The more that she stared at the creature, the more that she seemed to Faelan to glow with some internal light. Perhaps that wasn’t so strange – Faelan’s own eyes glowed, after all.) She was a massive, flea-bitten, mangy lioness, but she wasn’t quite like any normal lion, not that Faelan had ever seen one before; a pair of great, bedraggled wings sprouted from her sides. As her lips curled into a grin that Faelan thought murderous, she realized that they were stained by blood. Clearly, someone else had taken this path recently, and they had met with a terrible fate.

The creature’s voice resounds inside of her, and, though Faelan didn’t like it at all, at least she could understand it. (She sounded like a chain smoker, her voice all gritty and rough. Had she just eaten?) <<“Horseling?”>> The word came out as a sharp, quick bark – perhaps she could merely think her responses, but she had a feeling that the strange being in front of her would understand her even if she spoke in her native tongue. She tilted her head, pale eyes narrowing to little slits that glowed like little crescent-moons in the darkness. <<“I do not think I am such a creature.”>> Perhaps she was a…horseling…in skin, but she was no horse in spirit – Faelan was turned around and disoriented, but of that she was certain. She frowned, then, for she did not like riddles, but, when she looked at the lion-creature’s bloodstained claws, she decided that she would sooner take her chances with words than  <<“Regardless, Máighistreása…speak your riddle. This labyrinth grows tiresome.”>> If she could answer it correctly, perhaps she could find her way out.

If not…

She eyed those massive claws.



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



tags | Storyteller & anyone who wants to meet a dog! (fiiinally discovered how tagging works)
notes | rambly post but uhhh yay sphinxes

"Speech" <<"Canine Speech">>




@


and all that this scarcity promotes
is desperate men and tyrants


please tag Faelan! contact is encouraged, short of extreme violence


Storyteller

Moderator
Equine
Stallion
10hh
Immortal Spring ✿
played by NPC
540 crystals
101 posts

be swift!


Something is happening! Wickedness spread along the lioness' chops. A pink tongue slipped along stained fangs - a dark rotted hue hung behind that of the fresher red of a new kill - before another cackle erupted. It was a leaking sound, as if somewhere in her tattered coat holes hid and air escaped her. As her chortle descended into a hacking cough - one that seemed to spit up clouds of dust and dirt - the sphix's grin never seemed to falter. Nay. It stayed proud and true, gleaming like a token amidst the filth and trash of her appearance. Tattered braids clicked and clattered in her framing mane, and her bright golden orbs snapped to Faelan's attention. Yes, it was true... she understood the misplaced tongue quite clearly, but it only brought another bought of laughter from the crooked creature.

"Alright, wolf, she taunted, her long tail coiling and twirling behind her in anticipation. Painstakingly the lioness took her seat before Faelan. Even lounged, her head towered just as high as the obsidian mare's own. The two pair of slit eyes, both aglow, bore into another another. Still, the grin never left the sphinx's face. "You get one guess...," she cooed, an guise pulled over her otherwise flea-nipped visage that feigned heart felt sympathy, "So, please do make it count." Then she drew back, sitting up tall, almost proud, and there is the brief moment where her peculiar confirmation and be-ragged features seem almost charmed.

"I cannot be seen, I cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt,
I lay behind stars and under hills,
and empty holes I fills.
I Come first, follow after,
End life, kill laughter."

As if to punctuate the riddle physically, her thin tongue slid across the chops of her oddly flat visage. "What am I?"

You have one guess, Faelan! Can you make it count?


Faelan

Nonpartisan
Equine
Mare
15.1hh
3 Winter ❅
played by Jeanne
370 crystals
8 posts
❄ f a e l a n ❄

you wandered through the willows
in the forest you have found


Faelan hates her cackling.

It resounds like fireworks through her chest and her heart and her throat, quaking her entire body; the stench of carrion is familiar, but almost dizzying in its intensity, in her gluttony, in her gloating. A proper hunter, she thinks, does not hunt like this – not with riddles and dizzying, spiraling blackness, tendrils of oblivion creeping like tendrils from all angles. As her laugh reaches its crescendo, it descends into a violent, rattling cough, though it is somehow no less smug in tone or in stride; dust and dirt seemed to drift from her blood-stained lips, as though she were made of the earth itself. She grinned, those predatory gold eyes settling on Faelan like bolts. It’s all she can do to resist shuddering.

Alright, wolf, She hisses, and there is something in the way she says what Faelan is - wolf - that makes her skin crawl; she realizes that she is being mocked, and bristles. Meandering, rattling, quaking – an old sack of bones, a monument to decay – she comes to rest in front of Faelan. (She is eye-level with the wolf-girl, who starts to take a step back, then, eyes narrowing to pale slits, decides to stand her ground.) She grins, and, in a purr of mock-sympathy, continues. You get one guess…so please, do make it count. This only makes the little wolf’s eyes narrow further, until they are practically crescent-moons, nearly obscured by the clouds of her brows. Did this…hunter-thing think her a fool? She was not the first – Faelan had been called foolish many times by the hoofed creatures that claimed her kinship, but, as far as she could see, they were the foolish ones, for looking only at her form and disregarding the sharp curves of her teeth. But this creature isn’t foolish. She knows that much – a hunter, even a amoral one, is clever, and this one knows it. She sees it in the proud curve of her brow, the straightening of her spine, the charisma and anticipation that seem to radiate from her like heat from a sidewalk. (Strangely alluring, she thinks, the blood and the gloating still turning her stomach. Strangely alluring, like an unsolved mystery.)

She speaks her riddle, and Faelan hesitates, rolling her words around in her mind. A hunter? She runs her eyes down the stretch of her own legs, then out – out towards the snaking blackness that creeps at the edges of their claustrophobic space, at the hungry curve of the hunter-creature’s lips and the strange dimensions of her face, at the void that seems to stretch out aimlessly in all directions. Behind stars. What shows them?

After a long, rattling sigh comes her voice, brittle as dry leaves with tension. <<“…the dark.”>>



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



tags | Storyteller
notes | whooo this took a while

"Speech" <<"Canine Speech">>




@


and all that this scarcity promotes
is desperate men and tyrants


please tag Faelan! contact is encouraged, short of extreme violence


Storyteller

Moderator
Equine
Stallion
10hh
Immortal Spring ✿
played by NPC
540 crystals
101 posts

be swift!


Something is happening! The lioness remained sitting tall and proud as she awaited an answer. The devious grin she wore never faltered; she was almost certain that the mare would meet her demise. The reply was not one that would easily be guessed. She was certain of it. The brittle sounding words reached her rounded ears that twitched. The lioness rumbled low in her throat, her body unmoving for a moment. Her tail lashed behind her not once, not twice, but thrice. A pink tongue lashed out to lick at her lips once again before she stood to her paws. "What a pity," she finally speaks, her claws unsheathing as she walked toward the mare.

Wait, had that been the wrong answer? It was impossible to tell...

The lioness came to a stop before the mare, her head canting a little to the side. "Perhaps you will survive in these lands longer than the others, but everyone meets their maker sometime." A snicker followed her words, her limbs carrying her past the mare and toward the thick branches of the landscape. "Follow the path out..." The words were tossed over her shoulder as she walked, a dry cackling escaping her throat as she disappeared from view.

Faelan





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