Rilameth

"No matter the perils, fulfill your duty." The cool autumnal breeze swept its way through the leafy canopies of the great forest city of Ebrus, heralding the continued approach of winter in the mystical land of Vitalus. Leaves fell from once-verdant boughs as their fading life changed their colours from lush greens to brilliant golds and fiery reds, the land’s intense magic saturating the natural colours. Tyrians glided between massive trunks, and vayrons strode across wide wooden bridges, platforms anchored around trees providing foundation for architecture far above the forest floor. Humans too made their way within the throng of traffic, merchants and nobles, peasants and artisans, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, and more. Birds made their calls unfazed by the din of civilization, and herds of deer and kirin picked their paths through the underbrush below. As the sun approached its zenith, a young female vayron, her tall form beginning to fill out with the puller breed’s

"The soul's true home is the fire that ignites within it." - source unknown The hot summer sun bore down upon the arid, dusty lands of the Thedalean desert. Great dunes of reddish-tan sand gave the illusion of a sea of rust, the sirocco harsh and unforgiving. The air shimmered with the heat of the unrelenting rays, appearing almost liquid as distances seemed to warp and flicker, luring the unwary with mirages of water that never existed. Yet even within this dry, unyielding land, life found its purchase, stubbornly establishing its existence with resolute zeal. Cacti and scrubs dotted the landscape, scattered but unbroken. Herds of camels followed their migratory paths between the scarce oases and lonesome rivers, while vultures and jackals searched for the dead and dying, the cycle of life unfaltering. Surrounded by dunes and reliant on deep wells drilled into hard, baked earth, a small village eked out its existence. Descendants of those banished to the desert in exile long ago

The sun-baked streets of Thedale’s capital were no stranger to Ether, a small light blue tyrian splotched and splashed with lighter blue and white marks. He walked delicately through the market with his companions, a golden-and-cream vayron, and two humans. One of the humans was his dear friend and rider, a young albino man named Gaël, who currently took refuge from the searing sun underneath an enchanted cloak. The other human was another friend, a tall blond man named Luxifer dressed all in white and carried a cane as a fashion statement - and as a hidden weapon if it came to it. A voice called over the bustling market crowd. ::Feeling the lingering drudgery of the winter blues?:: said the chipper chaser who set up shop with naught but a colorful blanket on the masonwork road. Next to the stout, pinkish-red hued chaser were two large sacks, one still tied, the other open and clearly overstuffed with small, spiny brown oblong objects. In front of the chaser was a platter, displaying

"You’re a fool if you think you can play with fire without the risk of getting burned." - Quote from the work of a good friend. Winter was, perhaps, the most tolerable time of year to visit a desert. Many times now, Sunder had visited Autumn in her homeland of Vitalus, and now it was Autumn’s turn to visit him. The crisp chill of winter air bit all the harsher when out upon the sea, which churned with treacherous waves and threw icy spray over the decks. Autumn did not mind this, in spite of her short fur, instead having the time of her life learning the ways of the sea from the sailors and fellow passengers. Proven immune to seasickness, she was thus still full of energy and verve when the ship she was on made harbour, prancing in place upon wooden planks as the ropes were lashed to moor the vessel to the docks. As the wooden plank of the gangway was carefully lowered onto the pier, Autumn looked back to admire the sails and rigging of the ship one more time - three tall masts

The desert is a harsh and unforgiving place, the perfect place to train one's ability to endure. So it was that Zysovra, the leader of Veil Stalkers, had chosen to base his den within such an environment. To weed out the unwary and incompetent, the den's entrance had a treacherous path, and even for flighted creatures, the harsh winds could cause one to crash against the cliff if uncautious. Kestramore's deep mountain forest home, buried underground, was shielded from the elements. Aradace had chosen the location as the ruins within, once restored, would make for an excellent home. A custom home, with an air of regal antiquity that no wholly new home could accomplish. The two leaders had allied in mutual defence, and to share resources and information across the vast expanse that separated their dens. But without training, mutual defence would not amount to much. So it was that the two met, first in Kestramore, and then in Veil Stalkers, to discuss how best to mutually train their

Life is resilient. Though individual creatures may die, life as a whole continues to move on, ever forward, evolving and adapting to challenges once perceived impossible. It rarely develops in ways wholly expected, for mere chance holds such sway that no matter the presence of guiding influence or pressures from conflict, everything carries within it the very touch of chaos from which life had been born. “Come on, Ricin! We must do science!” “It’s a beach, Methyl. A beach. What are you gonna do, add heat and watch sand turn to glass? Again?” “It’s cool!” “It’s sand.” The sun’s rays bestowed their warmth from its zenith position high in the sky, barely compensating for the frigid chill in the winter air. The aforementioned sand was half-covered by sparkling fresh snow, and near to the shore it near sparkled itself in the light, as the water of the ocean gifted it the dampness that reflected the sun’s grace. Driftwood branches, seashells, and rocks littered the shore, nature’s

The warm sun on a cold winter day was always a welcome reprieve, for Ravyne far preferred the warmth to the cold, even as his growing connection to Gaia saw him attune to even the snow. The sky was near entirely clear, but a few patchy clouds in the far horizon, and the crisp air held almost still - though it remained fresh, not stale. Alongside the dark purple former War Alpha flew the lighter purple, brilliantly shimmering Lyrid, jewelry of colourful rocks and stones catching the light in ways Ravyne’s floating moonstones did not. It was rare for the magic-trailing star child of the kijikaiaku to venture during the day, but Lyrid had made an exception when their curiosity had been piqued by tales of the contradictory winter sun. The two flew almost lazily through the air, higher than the sparse trees that lay not far below them, and higher still than the golden Vyxréth below - who had opted to not join their flight and instead to more closely examine the bushes he now wandered

"Undertow; noun: a current of water below the surface and moving in a different direction from any surface current." The changing of the seasons was a predictable sort of change, a measurable passage of time with which to determine the length of one’s own life. Though the death and renewal of foliage was far from the only change the years caused, between the world growing more accustomed to the presence of Vitalus, and Vitalus growing more accustomed to the world. Two young vayrons also changed as they grew older, mostly in the expected changes as the two pups went from stubby, wobbling legs and overlarge heads to the start of the gangliness of very early adolescence. The size difference between their breeds was becoming much more apparent as well, for despite one being somewhat older than the other, it was the younger who was notably taller and overall larger. The larger individual, a female with a pelt of variegated amber hue and bright purple paws, was a puller - though her

"Sometimes the most incidental encounters affect a lifetime, especially for the young." The cool air of the brisk autumnal day was beginning to develop the bite of winter, the dying of plants not diminishing the ethereal beauty of the mist-shrouded forests and mountains of Vitalus. The wondrous land might not have been immune to the turning of seasons, but instead of its splendour fading, it merely changed in tone - the awe-striking majesty remaining strong in the face of the approach of death’s icy grip. To one very young, amber-hued puller pup, the cooling air and frequent rains were all she knew, having been born on the spookiest of nights. Named after the striking similarity her variegated pelt held to the season she was born in, Autumn was all wide eyes and big paws as she walked outside with her parents for the first time. Her heterochromatic, purple-and-orange gaze took in the fallen, decaying leaves and fading underbrush, the morning mists granting the forest of her home an

"Someone once said, that you only know yourself once your freedom has been taken away. Another person said, if you wish to test someone's character, give them power. "How well do you know yourself?" The slavers turned out to have more than just Valerius in their hold. Young Valerius woke to see several other vayrons, and even some younger humans and a couple older ones, all in covered wagons that had narrowly-spaced bars within. Cage carts, as it were. Valerius was still groggy from the heavy sedative he was stricken with, and when his senses started returning, he realized he didn’t recognize any of the surroundings. The noises from beyond were muffled, and when he lifted his head, saw they were inside… somewhere. A wooden building? A wide, spacious place, with shelves arrayed around where cage-carts, hooks, and pullies were not. There were no windows, but the floor wasn’t obviously dirty. Valerius’ injured wrist soon alerted him that it still would not hold his weight, and he