Training overcame myself
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,553 | Total: 10,646
MP: 9824
#1
I carried my own ashes to the mountains
Not quite trusting himself to beyond certain sections, whether this was due to a lack of strength from the sickness, an apprehensive wondering if the ailments and illness would suddenly return without warning, or a combination of both, the Sword remained along the outskirts of the Citadel. Rather than dress in beleaguered amounts of clothing, the season signifying almost nothing to the mountainsides, Deimos adjusted to the furs of his hellhound expanse, tracing over drifts with widened paws, with semblances of familiarity torn apart by fragmented worlds and things gone, gone, gone.

He swallowed down those curving notions coming to reap through his sentiments, focusing on studying, on understanding, the nature of the city, ignoring strangers, traversing and traveling down routes, streets, avenues, a firm and steady walk, a breath of sanity when everything had seemed so dark, so dim, so diminished. Clarity, a return to some aspect of normalcy in the stalking movements, in the fluid motions, in the draw of avarice and pride in his massive form. Zuriel had tucked herself somewhat behind, looking rather unimpressed with the meandering sojourn, but saying naught in its stead.

Likely because he needed it, desperately – to get out of his own way, to get out of his own head, to survey from something beyond the wounds, the scars, the inward lacerations, and the failures. That there was more to life than all his losses, than all the things broken and depleted, gone and vanquished. So he might as well have started with snow, with ice, with things he could rekindle, recall, with hardly a thought.
DEIMOS
Ningo Farmer

Age: 30 | Height: 185cm | 6'1" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 15 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 24 - Luck: 14 - Int:
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#2
curiosity always did kill the cat -- and satisfaction always brought it back
Learning the subtle ways of partial shifting had been a game changer for the Chief, who found himself able to enhance his vision, his hearing, to bring a layer of spotted pelt through, or a thicker coat of the moose shift he held - it was an excellent distraction for his mind, which was still wont to wander into dark depths and spiralling pathways of grief and despair. So he kept himself busy, experimenting with different ways he could combine his shifts throughout the days, as he kept going about his duties. Idly, he reflected on how his shifts could be useful in setting up the farm - the supplemented strength from the moose, the convenience of travel from the eagle, the balance and keenness of senses from the leopard.

It was a more pleasant topic to think about than the spiralling abyss that otherwise loomed.

Ensuring the ill were taken care of didn't fall precisely into his list of duties, but they were all friends as well as citizens of the town he had taken an oath to protect and serve.

Well, almost all of them were citizens.

The outskirts of the town were a place Chulane frequented too, but for vastly different reasons. So he was confident where he walked, hearing from enough locals talk of a unicorn following the looming tower of a man who could only be the Sword. With Auni leading the way, the Chief explored with a purpose - and it wasn't long into his search that he was successful. "Deimos!' he called out in greeting as he approached. Then he looked to the unicorn, and dutifully fetched a treat from his pocket, offering it with a low greeting to the unicorn. "Zuriel," he said, as Auni trotted up to bleat a greeting of his own to the Sword and his companion. "How're you feeling?" Is the water doing what it's supposed to? Is it wearing off? Are you alright?
CHULANE
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,553 | Total: 10,646
MP: 9824
#3
I carried my own ashes to the mountains
A shift, an alteration, a changing from human to canine, rendered complete in obsidian fur, stark against the outline of snow. He breathed in the remnants of the air and wondered if it was truly like the Basin, or if he merely dreamed of it – mountains upon mountains carved through the skyline, with the town nestled within its sanction. It was tempting to reach out and snag them all, to wander and wander and wander until he was naught left but the horizon too, a blade re-forged, remembering its sharpened edges and vicious abilities. Or maybe he’d be fangs and paws, claws and brutality, a barbarous incantation of elements and anger floating amongst vestiges, and then free to hover around the halls of hell, where he belonged.

But then his name was called out, and that was beginning to become familiar again too, but for different purposes, and his head swiveled in the direction, ears shifting, catching over the nuances and inflections. He recognized the individual before they even transpired in his sights, and his hound existence sat amidst the powder, a nod granted. Chulane likely deserved far more than just the brazen movement, but he couldn’t come up with anything of worth. Chulane, and a tilt of his canine head followed, a quirk of his brow in subtle airs when Zuriel dashed forward to claim her treat (a mare never forgot). Auni received a snort from both Sword and unicorn, and the greetings were extended in wellness. I am fine came first, completely habitual, before realizing that probably wasn’t helpful in the slightest.

All it had ever done was alleviate worries, or send people away. A dismissal, curt and cold. I am fine, I am fine, I am fine even when he wasn’t even close.

Still tired. But I have my mind back. As opposed to absolute lunacy or delirium, rampaging off into the snow-covered plains, into the endless, eternal tundra; better than everything else. You? Because gods knew chasing after all of them must’ve been an unrelenting chore.
DEIMOS
Ningo Farmer

Age: 30 | Height: 185cm | 6'1" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 15 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 24 - Luck: 14 - Int:
AUNI - Mythical - Luxere
Played by: Whimzi Offline
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Posts: 815 | Total: 926
MP: 35
#4
CHULANE
I believe that dreams are sacred
He watched the transformation with quiet awe, a smile curling his lip, as he pressed treats into Zuriel's awaiting muzzle. The Chief raised a brow at the Sword's initial assessment of being fine, but he needn't press the issue - it would seem Deimos already knew such a dismissal would hardly be a sufficient response. He nodded, accepting the amendment, ultimately relieved to hear it, but apprehensive about its permanency.

They had to get the cure. They simply had to.

"Glad to hear it. You're probably already doing it, but maybe aim to take a dose of the water every four days or so? If you run low just come by the office. I promise I've kept the ningos out of it." He tried to insert a note of humour into the moment, a slight smirk bending the corner of his mouth.

"I'm…" he shrugged, before realising he was doing just what Deimos had done to him before. "Sleeping a bit better, but I still struggle with the sun not ever properly setting." He paused, taking a moment a regroup - he was all for asking the tricky questions, but he was just as bad as the rest of them when it came to talking about the uncomfortable stuff. He was also very good at deflecting, and glossing over details - he never had to do that with Kia, never felt inclined to hide anything from her. There was so much more he could say, and in time he probably would, but for now, he happily drew attention to something that might help them both get their minds off the sorrows of the world.

"Hey, how fast can that shift run?" Without waiting for an answer, he summoned the largest shift he held within him, formidable and towering. The moose stood before them, amusement tinkling over the bond, and the hint of a challenge given as he raised a front hoof to paw playfully at the snow before them.
Take my darkest fears and play them
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,553 | Total: 10,646
MP: 9824
#5
I carried my own ashes to the mountains
Fine was like its own harpoon, its own knife; a display of curt repulse, though he hadn’t meant in that regard. Perhaps it was merely too early to sink into those emotions, or maybe too late. He seemed to move and maneuver through clouds and fog, a labyrinthine conjecture of grieving, mourning, losing, gaining, and cycling back through in a series of trials he hadn’t encountered in the same way. These were new paths, and his old habits of sinking couldn’t, wouldn’t, be fathomed, noted, or useful any longer. He could dig his heels into the earth as much as he wanted, but naught would get better. Acknowledging the portions helped, but otherwise he was damned and due to constantly fumble, stumble, along the wayward plain – the uncertainty, the unknown, and the ghosts haunting over his steps.

So the hound nodded at Chulane’s words, he’d been taking the water when he felt the sickness begin to creep back in, not wanting to be so heavily reliant, but understanding he didn’t have many options left. Not until they completed other tasks. He tilted his head vaguely at the humor, a brief snort flickering through, and then he was listening – something he’d always known how to do. Better sleep, and then not much else – skimming over the surface, neither of them quite willing to reach deep into those pits, depths, and fathoms.

For another time, when everything wasn’t so damned bleak.

The inquiry surprised him while he sat on his haunches, and then the air of a challenge flared within his system. An enticement to demolition and sheer ferocity, force, instead of being plagued by his own demons. The canine didn’t have to be asked twice. We can see. He bit readily into the provocation, the dare, as he so often had before; opportunities of amusement flickering into those readied limbs, pushing off the snow with a leap, and a bound, a long bark persuading the moose to join.
DEIMOS
Ningo Farmer

Age: 30 | Height: 185cm | 6'1" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 15 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 24 - Luck: 14 - Int:
AUNI - Mythical - Luxere
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#6
CHULANE
I believe that dreams are sacred
The challenge was laid out, the terms set - it would be a race then, a canine summoned from the fiery pits of hell and the greatest cervidae of the snowy plains set to embark in a test of speed and endurance. A great foggy breath descended from broad nostrils, before he summoned the great power in his limbs and haunches, and pressed forwards in a great gallop.

'First to complete the loop?' he questioned, making note of where they started. And by the loop, he was referring to a track they would create around the entire outskirts of the town, as they raced and gallivanted together through the snow and frozen landscape.

--

This stinks and I am sorryyyy
Take my darkest fears and play them
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,553 | Total: 10,646
MP: 9824
#7
I carried my own ashes to the mountains
Some terms and conditions readily applied, and the canine barked in agreement – narrowed gaze taking in the landscape, the outskirts of the town to be their track. With obstacles? As long limbs unfurled, broad paws pushing off the snow, he could see several logs pushed together in a pile, directly along their route. Perhaps they were there amongst and amidst the gathered components for future fires; but for now they were a part of the parameters, particulars, and onslaughts granted to chasing down, or flickering away, from their trials.

Not even remotely bothered by the stacked timber, the hellhound proffered a boisterous round of laughter from within his chest, so that it might ricochet over the Attuned connection, so there might be something other than melancholy, anguish, and ashes. Upon the approach, he surveyed the heights briefly, hindquarters gathered in muscle, flesh, and sinew, and shoved off the ground, forelegs tucked tight against his chest. A soaring leap, smooth and efficient, and he landed on the other side, head angled only slightly to he could view Chulane’s attempt – before hastening off again.
DEIMOS
Ningo Farmer

Age: 30 | Height: 185cm | 6'1" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 15 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 24 - Luck: 14 - Int:
AUNI - Mythical - Luxere
Played by: Whimzi Offline
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Posts: 815 | Total: 926
MP: 35
#8
CHULANE
I believe that dreams are sacred
He let the laughter, the zest, the enjoyment of the moment build up and fill him, and reflected it back. Kia had been one to first teach him about accepting that sometimes even when overarching shit feelings were swallowing one up, it was okay to feel happy and joyful and excited at moments throughout it too.

It was all part of the process, the journey of grief and depression. It was part of the healing.

Auni bleated as his bondmate ran off, feeling very much content to simply stay behind and act as a marker for their finish line. He licked at some moss on the rocks to occupy himself.

Meanwhile, Chuy galloped off, having never ushered such power and speed from this shift before, he found his legs surprisingly swift and strong, and able to push onwards at a similar speed to the hellishly big hound ahead of him. He grunted a deep note in agreement to Deimos' declaration, before carving a similar, if slightly less elegantly executed path, as limbs folded and leapt, clearing the timber with a kick of his hoofed heels behind him.

It was two goliaths on a jaunt, and while they kept to the outskirts of the Citadel, they no doubt drew attention. But at this moment, Chuy didn't care, and merely pressed onwards. A mound of what could only be memory snow rose up ahead - and he didn't bother to leap this time, but instead bent his antlered head low, to plough on through it, and perhaps send snowy interference across his competitor's path as well.
Take my darkest fears and play them
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,553 | Total: 10,646
MP: 9824
#9
I carried my own ashes to the mountains
Deimos wasn’t certain if he’d ever actually allowed himself to heal.

Instead, more often than not, he carried all of the grief with him. It settled on his shoulders, drowned in his chest, carved like a knife in his ribcage, marking all the inward scars across bones and mettle. It hurt and hurt and hurt, and he’d eternally settled his soul into the labors of that anguish until it seemed ready to bury him into the earth. He’d never been enough, for anyone, or anything, for any length of time. Moments had proven that, one right after the other.

Except, he knew those he mourned would hate to see how their remnants shaped him. The good memories overridden by the devastated ones.

A breath, and he loosened the thoughts from his mind. A glimpse, perhaps, into the futility of what could be.

Another bark of a laugh echoed when the memory snow flared – he could see a bountiful spray meleeing his way, but the hound was full of tricks, dastardly wiles, and conniving of his own. A ferocious stomp of his paws unfurled plumes of fire, and the snow quickly melted in his wake, incapable of maintain its composure in the flares of heat and demolition. If some scraped over to the moose, near hooves where he’d have to avoid them with his gangly limbs, it wouldn’t bother the canine any, digging deeper and deeper into the movements.

All the while, Zuriel was also quite content to stay behind, snorting and rolling her eyes at the antics. And perhaps, a little relieved, that the Sword had found a way to not be trapped and snared by his demons.
DEIMOS
Ningo Farmer

Age: 30 | Height: 185cm | 6'1" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 15 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 24 - Luck: 14 - Int:
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#10
CHULANE
I believe that dreams are sacred
It was something he would always carry, something he would never forget, never completely let go of - but something he would, in due course at least, not let hold him back. That was part of the healing. Like Deimos, he knew that the one he'd lost wouldn't want him to hurry to join her in the strange afterlife that Caido had. He knew she'd want him to live, to experience life as she had - to go hard, to go big, to live it to its fullest, to exploit every opportunity and let fate decide where he ended up.

Snow scattered everywhere, and the moose kept pressing onwards through it. Flames flickered in the corner of his vision - he shouldn't've been surprised, knowing Deimos the way he coming to. With the snow surrounding him in a powdery shower, any heat simply turned it into droplets around him. The moose continued forth regardless, trusting his comrade would prevent any of the hellfire from licking too hotly at his heels. In both of their wakes, what was left of the snow could be seen rebuilding itself into a new obstacle for another time.

As they rounded a bend, a different kind of obstacle presented itself. In was inevitable that they would need to cross at least the main road that led out of the Citadel, the frozen cobblestones and pedestrians a unique challenge. But Chulane did not hesitate in his stride, and instead summoned a long and low grumbling bellow from his chest, a warning toll to those not possessing the attuned gift. And to those that did, he beamed a note of warning out, that they were busy training, and to cross their paths was an act of wilful foolishness.
Take my darkest fears and play them
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,553 | Total: 10,646
MP: 9824
#11
I carried my own ashes to the mountains
Dogs couldn’t snicker or smirk, but the laughter buoyed through Attuned assailments just the same. Motion, precision, and muscle undulated in his manifestations of speed – finally permitted to unleash the vicious, unwinding strides again. As if he were back in the mountains of the Basin, stalking, chasing, proceeding down through summits and peaks, an unmistakable savage, an unrelenting heathen, sovereign of his dominating wake, and enemies standing no chance if and when he’d caught them. There were no shadows to snatch here, no brutalities to machinate, no purposeful demolition in his brutal pace – but a semblance of freedom, of liberation, of nothing, nothing, nothing holding him back. Escaped chains, none of them rattling around his feet, no tethered lines anchoring him down into the doom, into the gloom, where he couldn’t peek out over the edges, couldn’t hasten to the surface no matter how hard he tried.

A brief impression of appreciation formed along his mind, and he sent it towards Chulane; gratitude, recognition of the clarity, of the opportunity.

More obstacles made their shapes and faces known, however. These poor people might’ve been the same he’d terrorized another day, when he and the Warden zigzagged around the streets in haphazard displays of tag. Perhaps they’d come to dread seeing the big black dog, some Grim Reaper demon harking his way through stones and routes. When he noted Chulane refused to hesitate, the beast didn’t either – loosening a long, ricocheting howl – a warning, to permit them to pass; hoping no one was bludgeoned to harm with either of their bulks.
DEIMOS
Ningo Farmer

Age: 30 | Height: 185cm | 6'1" | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 15 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 24 - Luck: 14 - Int:
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#12
CHULANE
I believe that dreams are sacred
He let the energy of the moment fill him, let the gratitude wash over him - sent back his fair share too, in this rare and intense moment of friendship and comradery and shared grief. The hound and the moose gallivanted along, bellows and warnings given, and people scattered out of the way, though they made their sentiments known in the wake of the great beasts and their reckless race. Some were understanding, and laughed and cheered, a few others grumbled - others again just continued on their merry way, as if such an occurrence was not overly unusual or to be questioned.

Chulane himself wondered how he might've reacted, at any given point, he could've been any one of them. The thought amused him, as he continued onwards through the snow, rounding the corner and leaping over more stacked timber towards the field where Auni and Zuriel waited for them. Breath danced before him, snowy and misty, crashing over his body as his strong legs pushed onwards - he wasn't the most elegant of beasts but he could move when he wanted to. He was warmed and energised, and only just now finding his muscles tremoring with fatigue and aches from the effort.

But he would push on, push himself to his physical limit in this, dive wholly and completely into this distraction, this exercise that they both clearly needed. And when they approached the end point, he let loose a deep, long, triumphant bellow once more, no matter the outcome, he felt good for the first time in a long time, good enough to revel in it, to want to prolong it and celebrate it, no matter how fleeting it was. With a final toss of his great antlered head, he came to a huffing halt, slowing his pace to a trot first, before easing down to a standstill beside his friend, the mighty hound who had shared this day with him.

--

I'll let you roll/decide who wins <3 XDD
Take my darkest fears and play them
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,553 | Total: 10,646
MP: 9824
#13
I carried my own ashes to the mountains
The people maneuvered, and he caught a few eye rolls, nonchalant expressions, or children pointing, laughing, along the lined paths. With nothing else to cease or slow him down, the beast dug in, muscles undulating, uncoiling, unfurling until he was truly an unleashed thing – a beacon, not of darkness or anguish, not of Reaper tendencies or Sword valor, but of determination, of steadfast endurance and fortitude. Of the perseverance eternally instilled within him, a freedom, a liberation, of grief and torment as paws slide across snow, as a cretin maneuvered along a world blending into another from lifetimes before. When he wasn’t overcome, when he wasn’t overwhelmed, when he wasn’t falling apart at the seams – stitching himself back together, one loop of thread at a time.

They raced and rushed, intermingling with the crowd before opening back up to where it’d all begun, and the threshold loomed ahead – a pulse of might barreling into his veins, ignoring the warnings, the aches, beginning to conform in the back of his mind. They said to pull back, to cease, to desist, to slow, and he did not. The fatigue settled in, far more rapid, far more painful, but with the sickness combined, it wasn’t so shocking. He just didn’t want to cease. Didn’t want the moments of strength to end. Didn’t want the past season to come searing up against him –

And soon Chulane’s great long legs had long since passed by, and Deimos was laboring, struggling, sides heaving, limbs flagging, and he had to slowly meander in, jaw gaping in panting breaths. He could see Zuriel rampaging in, ears pinned and very cross at him, but he couldn’t look her way; doomed to suffer for his own failings, for always pushing himself to the brink, and never asking for any of it to end. Sorry, he offered by way of apology, though he wasn’t what certain for. But congratulations on your win; a snicker to follow in between Attuned measures, while he caught his breath and eventually flopped into the snow.

{FIN}
DEIMOS


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