Character OTS


Björn & Lirr

Couple OTS

fear not the darkness -- but welcome its embrace


be swift!

The glow from the Vulkan Lands could usually be seen for miles at dusk, but the raging sandstorm had muted everything in its path. Every living creature in the Wastes had taken cover, either voluntarily or not. Death loomed over the sands, but the wise took shelter near the molten pools. One creature in particular had taken precedence in the lands of magma.

At first glance, the creature was not very big. Zahhak had sensed the sandstorm from deep within the dunes before it had happened and claimed this spot as his own. His massive frame was curled in on itself as he watched through the whipping sand. Eventually something delicious would wander in, but for now he was content on waiting. While he could have easily hid beneath the sand during the storm he chose to stay above the surface.

It was not uncommon for Zahhak to see the occasional equine within the desert. In fact, they were so common that he had developed a particular interest in them. They were strange in how they conversed with one another. Some of them were humble, and some of them were not so kind.

Zahhak uncurled his body in a slight “stretch”; he grew bored of sitting and watching. His legs extended to push his body from the hard, black lava rock, and his stomach growled with want. The snake-like brute slithered from his resting position to the edge of the Vulkan Lands. His tongue dipped into the sand to taste, but there was something different. Zahhak perked his head up against the howling sands, and with one swift inhale his cry cut sharply into the polluted air.

Something is happening! Evandr has initiated the taming of his earth wyrm. Will he answer the call?

Tag: @[Storyteller]



The Wastes were silent. Not the silence of sleep nor the quiet of a lazy day, but reminiscent of the grave. Hindsight, his curiosities were foolish. He should have remained at the Oasis with the others and with Aishe, but the Warden had set his cerulean sight to the desert and followed it. The Wastelands were never so still. Massive hooves carried him with a determined but hesitant stride, visage high and swinging with his gait as those bright oasis visionaries of his squinted across the masses of sand. He'd barely made it into the throat of the Wastes out of the Vulkan Lands when he spied it. A massive wall of sand, looming but distinct. It all but devoured their horizon. When was the last time the Wastes had seen such a storm? Nothing that could compete had ever taken place in his lifetime. Even from a distance, the Warden knew that if it decided to direct its course towards Frekr, it would bring the discord.

So he elected to watch it. A statue on the cusp of dunes, his very body language defying the storm to trespass on what he would consider his domain. To threaten the exiles was a direct threat to the Warden, and be it nature or otherwise he intended to keep them safe. Winds raced along the sands so that small twisters of terra cotta grains rose and fell around him. It whipped at his knotted obsidian mane and not twice but thrice stung his vigilant eyes. Evandr hoped that they would be spared, hoped that fate elected to punish the castaways no more than they already suffered. But fate had different plans... As quickly as the zephyrs and gales quickened, the sandstorm's front barreled down upon him. What time he had hoped he could have spared was lost - dramatically so. The storm would beat him back to the Oasis in a considerable amount of time. The amethyst piebald knew that all there was to do now was to return - return home and aid his kin with all he was able.

Whips of grain beat at him as he nearly toppled in his pivot, the strength of the winds astounding. Back to the oncoming torrent, the Warden lurched into a canter, head low in a feeble attempt to protect his precious sight. And there wasn't much; the visibility was deplorable. Several yards has been bade to him in the beginning, but the closer the true storm came the harsher the winds howled and the harder they buffeted. Dunes were swept away beneath his hooves, changing and flowing as he walked, tiring him as he struggled through. But if he could get to the Vulkan Lands, get to the magma pools and the blackened sands and stone, perhaps there would be some salvation. Then, simply push through the natural skirt of the lava motes, and he'd arrive home. Simple enough, as long as he didn't trip into one.

Finally Evandr gambled a glimpse, rising his visage as coughs racked his lungs (they stung from the sand that slipped through his nares), he spied the blackened earth beneath his hooves. He was almost there. Not long now. What speed had faded returned, re-invigorated by his progress. All he had to do was keep himself out of the softly glowing pools - which didn't seem difficult. Despite the intensity of his squint, their orange ambiance was impossible to overlook, their heat so great that even the winds couldn't sweep it away. Hope chipped itself back into Evandr's heart as a piercing roar deafened even the howl of the winds. The crest of it was pitched, so much so that his audits instinctively dug into the thick mess of his mane. But self preservation forced his hooves to tarry. "What in the Gods names-".

He rose his head again, vision scanning through the sheets of razor-sand for some sort of clue. Cries of such magnitude didn't come from the belly of any beast he'd ever seen, and for a moment Evandr couldn't believe the amount of disbelief he'd faced already. But he pushed forward, strides hesitant in their desire to pursue but determined to see himself back to the Oasis. Whatever skulked in the abyssal landscape perhaps sought his end, but he wasn't a Warden to cower. He was the Bearbutcher.

Forward he drove more, until a darkness approached him. It seemed to blacken what salvation he had through the storm, and he found himself coming to a standstill once again. But this time, even his self preservation found itself unable to engage. Eyes wide, a beast of legend slithered directly before him. Great knobs and horns that seemed crafted from desert rock encompassed the beast with natural armor. Though it did not have much more in size on him, it was still massive, and length unknown (lost to the storm). Evandr's gaze rose to where it's flared nape and visage hovered above him, seemingly lacking any concern for the calamity that plagued the East. But the beast did not strike... at least... not yet. "If you're going to kill me, best try dragon; nothing stands in the way of the Warden!" Evandr roared, rising his voice to its greatest volume to be heard over the wind.

Tag: Storyteller
WC: 881
Muse: 2/5 whoops
OOC: idk this is terrible

powerplay allowed
within reasonable limits!

Tag: @[Evandr]


be swift!

If Zahhak had been in any other mood he may have taken Evandr’s invitation seriously, but there was something about the brute. Something deep stirred within the sand wyrm. A sense of calmness and comfort tingled throughout his body, and it was strange. He had never felt this way…especially after he had been challenged. Instead of reacting to the Warden’s threat, Zahhak simply caught the stallion’s gaze. He too was large like Zahhak, and the way he stood up to protect his lands were admirable.

Zahhak slunk only inches closer before grunting a greeting and relaxing his stance. The monster eyed the violet and cream man. He seemed strong as well as battered. Was he well-seasoned in the art of war? A strong ally would do Zahhak well, he thought.

It was now that Zahhak bowed his head in response to the Warden. He was not to fight, but instead he was to extend his loyalty.


Perhaps the loyalty from Zahhak has stirred something within Evandr. The understanding that the two have now bonded, and that Zahhak will follow him to the end. The bond starts as a tingle within Evandr, and Zahhak begins to understand Evandr even without speech. This bond is a sacred bond, and it cannot be broken easily.

Something is happening! Congratulations Evandr. You have tamed your living myth!

Tag: @[Storyteller]



But only the wind attacked him. Buffeting gales and whips of grit lashed at his hides and tore at his obsidian locks, but the massive beast before him did not strike, not even with Evandr's taunt. What unease had bubbled up in his gut with the appearance of the creature plateaued. What was happening? And how could the Warden be certain that this... thing of legend would not attack him? Squinting through the deafening gales the piebald stud continued to stand square and tall. If it was suddenly to change his mind, Evandr wouldn't be the man who cowered away when he died. There was never flight, only fight.

"No..." a voice, deep and resonating in Evandr's mind momentarily drowned all uncertainties, all rehearsing reactions, and all thoughts from his crown. Sapphire eyes darted but there was little purchase, seeking somewhere, something that could have spoke to him. The ambient glow of the lava rose and fall through the ever changing thickness of the sandstorm. It bathed the beast with a warm, if not hellish, uplighting. The beast... jaw wishing to slack, the Warden of the Wastelands cast his concrete, cold gaze (with lids as high as he physically could allow) and he bore into the magma orbs of the dragon. "No fighting." it said to him, and it's snake-like nape lowered the drake's visage.

Every instinctual response told Evandr to run but he refused to give in. Rather, he stood his ground as the scaled muzzle approached him. The breath that wafted from the beast was thick with death, and even in the torrential gales his hot breath was pungent. A white and amaranthine audit fell back into the undulating tassels of black, but the Warden still refused to back down. "Zahhak." The beast said, head - nearly twice the size of Evandr's - hovering close now and angled so that the bright orange and deep garnet eye of the beast investigated him most thoroughly over the sloping and spiked spines adorning his head. Was... was it introducing itself? Evandr's gut twisted with another wave of instinctual fear, but once again he refused to give in. A pregnant pause lingered between them, in which only the wind and the steady growl of the dragon's throat filled. For some reason beyond Evandr's perceiving his voice rose in volume in hopes to conquer the storm. "Evandr!" he barked back, attempting to peer the beast in the eye, but the winds lashed angrily at his face so that it repeatedly dipped down to his chest.

"Evandr..." the beast growled, head leaning in closer with the final syllable. Heaving breaths both from the fatigue that was threatening to overcome his adrenaline and the still lingering terror raked Evandr's sides, but he bellowed again. "If you do not wish to harm me, help me!" The dragon's mug cocked, peering closer to the draft stud. "I must return to the Oasis. Do you know it?"

"Yes, Evandrrrr...."

The Warden swallowed a lump in his throat, and for a moment a clear hope began to simmer. Perhaps fate had not misled him afterall... "We must go there. Together."

Tag: ---
WC: ---
Muse: 2/5 whoops
OOC: idk this is terrible but end

powerplay allowed
within reasonable limits!

Tag: @[Evandr]