Unicorns of the Vale

As the significant day approached, the Vale Meeting Hall was a sea of bodies and bustling activity. While the sound system blared classic rock ("She caught me pounding on the desk with my hands...") at the request of a certain orange mare, hooves, hands, talons and paws lent their skill to decorating the large space and arranging tables for food and drink. Still others piled pads of paper on each individual round table and filled tall plastic tumblers with handfuls of pens and pencils.

Standing near the kitchen entrance and choreographing the madness was a blue-and-orange paint stallion. Van leaned against the wall, checklist in hand, left foot tapping with the catchy percussion flowing from the speakers. ("I don't want to play, I just want to bang on 'de drum all day...") Critical brown eyes lifted every so often as another dolley of beverages or box of donuts trundled past him through the swinging doors and into the kitchen. Beneath his watchful gaze, things were progressing in a fast and orderly fashion. There only remained a short time before the long-forecasted storm arrived. Safe from the hurricane winds in this new land, the Meeting Hall only expected a heavy rain. Hopefully the majority of the guests would arrive before the storm drenched the Vale. Hopefully the Meeting Hall would hold them all.

A warm paw on Van's shoulder momentarily distracted him from his checklist. He glanced blankly at the unexpected guest, meeting the deep green slitted eyes with a nonplussed expression as the room went uncharacteristically silent. "Mrr?"

The golden pard flashed Van a wide razor smile and clapped his shoulder heartily and the heavy guitar of a new song slammed the great room back into action. "The verrrry same! Would that little upstarrrrrt be harrrd at work today? Of courrrrse she is." Another cuff with a great sleek set of velveted toes, and the large pard with the white crescent glowing on his throat slid effortlessly past Van and into the activity of the room. ("Forget the hearse 'cause I never die. I got nine lives, cat's eyes...") Van's eyes rolled ceilingward.

There was a happy shriek over the music, and through the moving bodies the paint stallion spotted Scylla throwing her arms rapturously about Mrr's golden neck. More cries of welcome and reunion echoed from wall to chinked log wall. A warm fire burned in the massive fireplace at the end of the room opposite the small raised stage, throwing off the humidity of the oncoming storm. As more guests arrived, a delicious variety of food appeared on the tables. Scylla showed a charcoal grey stallion, Sefir, how the wireless microphones worked. Bright pink Sahana snapped up a paper pad and a red ballpoint pen from the cup on her table and hurried off for a serving of red punch from the golden bowl at the end of the refreshment tables. Alone and wan-faced but somehow still looking pleased, ghost-gray and silent Harm nursed a cup of coffee in a padded leather armchair at the hearth. Matronly Dewfire, her orange mane carrying the warmth of the sun in spite of the shabby weather rode herd on a gaggle of skittish youngsters. Jukebox Hero pulsed mostly unheard over the crowd, growing every moment as the Valefolk gathered to see off their old home and celebrate their rich and varied memories over lovingly prepared food and drink.

At last Van laid away his checklist and rolled up his sleeves.

("In a town without a name, in a heavy downpour...")

The day was bittersweet, but the paint stallion's heart swelled with joy.

****

Welcome to the Vale Hurricane Party! On Monday, February 23, the site where we once flourished will be gone forever. In honor of where we've come from, you're welcome to bring any of your previously retired characters to the party, including any characters you played before we added character creation restrictions (thus, Mrr). Enjoy the food and drinks, and be sure you grab a pad and pen or pencil! There'll be party games!

What's a hurricane party? Here's a pretty good explanation.

Scylla

At the sight of Mrr, the peach stallion who had just entered into the hall, rushed over towards where the golden pard stood, "Mrr!" Rohar cried happily, embracing the pard "It's so good to see you! how's Irarr and the family ?"
Casting his eyes about, he looked about, hoping to spot the rest of the family, and especially the figure of Mrr's eldest son, the white and silver Irr, who had been his special companion and friend.

Behind him, more figures were arriving. A black and copper paint stallion hurried across to the drinks table, pouring himself a huge mixed drink of various fruit juices into large mug from the varied selection. Satisfied with his drink and grabbing a pen and pad off the table, Tahar collapsed into a huge comfortable beanbag, next to the huge log fire, snuggling up, glad to be out of the winds and near torrential rain. A lemon and lime dappled half grown too, made a beeline for drinks, arriving shortly after Tahar left it. Taking his time to examine the various beverages on offer from the massive selection, Cocoro's attention was distracted, as he spotted his cousin Scylla and called happily in the direction of the orange mare. Another stallion, mauve and ivory, grabbed a pen and paper and a huge glass of lemonade shandy, before settling back into another huge bean bag. Drink in hand, Ororn sat, enjoying the classic rock music booming out from the jukebox and waiting for the games to begin

Spying the tables laden with dishes of every cuisine available, a pair of multi-coloured stallions, one blue,lilac and copper, one a mix of peach, copper and black headed up to the food table. Toloran and Vaiori momentarily diverted their attentions to grab a pen and pad, before turning back to grab plates and starting checking out the delicious fare on offer.
On a sofa, a copper and teal stallion, just a little shy from the myriad guests bustling about, and the noise and chatter, laid back, sipping a lime and coke. Peering through the crowds, Sàilean tried to relax, peering around, hoping to spot someone to talk too.
Around in an arm chair situation, next to the roaring fire an elderly mare a shade of rosey peach settled back to rest, having entered the hall. Sipping delicately at a mug full of hot lemon tea, Gaiara settled back, snug and cosy warm by the warmth of the flames leaping up from the pile of heaped logs.

Pip edged in the door, skirting the official-looking stallion with clipboard and checklist in hand, and headed quickly for the warmth and tangle of the center of the room. He was sure the guest list didn't have him on it...not that he expected to be unwelcome, but rather because he'd gotten his registration in so late. A few faces around the room were familiar to him - he knew Scylla's bright orange coat well. Others were familiar to him only by way of lays he'd been told.

The young stallion had never known the old land, though he'd heard of it spoken in rich, purple prose - or perhaps just purples. Still, he knew about it - knew the deep traditions that had been built there, the customs and laws and guidelines which had directed and protected all who lived there. He had heard lush tales of pleasurable, safe times, and wished in a general way that he might have known those places, and taken part in the months and years lived there.

But these new lands - his brief explorations had already shown him so many wonderful places in this new home. It had a character all its own, a character inextricably integrated in the lays and songs of the unicorns, dayans, and gryphons it sheltered. And for that, Pip already loved it, and hoped to call it his new home. He was yet a stranger within the crowd of others, and would be for significant time - during which he would grow, and be shaped by this new place (and, maybe, make his impression on it as well). Despite his newness, he was excited for the opportunity which this celebration provided: joy and revelry in the face of big, scary changes. That philosophy resonated deeply with him, and, feeling comfortable in a sea of strangers, Pip worked his way into the crowd.

The hearth's warmth drew the butter-yellow unicorn towards it, and the plush, comfortable furniture settled around it looked inviting. Nodding greeting to a gray stallion curled up with a cup of coffee in one of the armchairs, and a rosy peach mare similarly settled in another, Pip settled himself on the far end of the couch from a teal and copper stallion with a soda in his hands.

"Hi," he introduced himself, bowing his head in greeting, "I'm Pip. I'm new." Then, turning to include the gray stallion and peach mare as well, he continued, "I never knew the land that is mourned tonight, but I have heard it was wonderful."

Outside the meeting hall, a large van pulled up. Like a clown car, it spewed out a number of unicorns. First to roll out was the largest, a bright yellow trimmed in purple and deep blue. Leaping lightly to her feet (after hitting the ground with her rear end first) she jogged into the hall. Glancing around, she then turned and gestured and her daughter, a red and blue filly, skipped up next to her. Together, they picked up a pencil and pad and then curled up in one of the bean bags. Dusk greeted everyone warmly, while Celeste kept an eye out for her foster dam. Seeing Scylla, she ran towards her with squeal of greeting.

By now, the rest of the unicorns had squeezed themselves out of the car. Artemis, her eyes clouded, was guided by Skywave, who waved cheerily to everyone as she guided the older mare to a comfortable chair. Cloudstripe trailed in after Redwind, still trying to argue with him while he ignored her completely. Stormstripe and Mariana walked in together, Stormy rolling his eyes at his sister.

The unicorns milled around the room, greeting old friends while quietly mourning the loss of those who never made it.

~Artemis/Cloudstripe

(*Sekret smile* >:])

The tassel of a lilac tail whipped out of sight and behind a thickly growing throng of unicorns, and Sixx swore loudly, grinning demonically when a group of elders looked at him in surprise. Apparently the mare he was chasing was too shy to reappear in the open, let alone relent to the roughen love of the gold and crimson stallion. He sighed with a toss of his shoulders and moved away from the race track he’d created in his chase of the dainty mare, and instead moved towards the punch bowl.

His body was lean and taut with adolescence, and many a mare had described him as attractive with his long legs and high carriage. There was a lot of air between his belly and the ground, and his mane was, arguably, one of the longest and thickest of the foals of his age bracket. He smiled gamely to the plains dwelling mare standing beside the golden punch bowl, and delicately he slipped a hooved hand into his leather jacket, and then rested a cocked hip against the table. “Hey mare,” he drawled lazily, flicking his ears back slightly as he gave her a tight lipped smile.

Cirrus bobbed her head, feathers floating ornately in her mane as she tried not to laugh at Sixx. She’d heard of him from her dam, who had recently trekked to the vale in her ever present search for true love. “Hail, colt,” she said, and immediately she knew she’d said the wrong thing when Sixx’ s eyes flashed. She almost laughed when he said “I may be young in body and spirit, but don’t discount me. I have more knowledge then some stallion’s three times my age, on certain subjects.”

From behind him someone called loudly. It was a mare with a white face and black markings on her eyes and muzzle. Her body was pale creamy tan and red striped her mane. “I’m sure you know more about loving on mares than…say…Cade would,” Glittir commented cheerily. She then poured herself some punch. Sixx was incensed, and Cirrus was laughing…but still the party wasn’t over. A deep voiced stallion blew into the area, a beer in one hoofed hand and the other fiddling with the ascot around his neck. His silvery mane was tied up in a manner that Sixx would have laughed at, if the words spoken by the stallion hadn’t silenced him. “Cade may not know much about service to a mare, but his prowess in intimacy goes unmatched, to even you, Sixx.” A swig of his beer and a challenging smirk made the half-grown’s jaw muscle jump.

“Unmatched?” Sixx started, his words harshly clipped. Cirrus cut him off, “I’m sure that on the matter of…’love,’ everyone here knows how to give those they love a wonderful time.” She smiled, trying to get the conversation off of the hostile ground it was now threading through, and onto a more laughable subject.

“Isn’t it wonderful, that we have a nice new home that we can celebrate such a bitter sweet thing as the dismissal of our old home?” Cirrus said cheerily, and Glittir laughed, and nodded. “Indeed,” the vale warrior said casually, “like the times, I would think. Considering the current desire to ‘go green’ and express a more logical means to operate. We have upgraded and remolded to handle everything.” Glittir then busied herself with gathering two plates with enough food that the rest of them were actually silenced. They all thought the same thing ‘how could this mare eat this much food?’ but none said anything. She then moved away with a cheery ‘farewell, and cheers!’

Sixx glanced up and away from the swing of Glittir’s hips in time to see Shaysie moving towards Cirrus. He was talking to her about the feathers in her mane, and with a smile he pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket. A black flask accented the gold hoof that held it. With his teeth, Sixx unscrewed the top and then leaned forward, pouring a healthy amount of alcohol into the punch. He pulled the flask back and took a drink himself before pocketing the canteen. “Everclear,” he said to himself with a grin. Cirrus looked his way once, as if to question his words, but Sixx was already off.

Meanwhile, Riverdark sat quietly with Greanleef and another stallion, a short red-brown scout with a grizzly and often called ugly face. He was babbling animatedly to Greanleef, and Riverdark sat council.

“You are the one who said it was going to be a rainy day,” Gwarmli said loudly, his voice a gruff purr, to the palomino stallion. “To get inside and out of the rain,” he continued, glancing to Riverdark who wore an amused expression, “that makes a lot of sense. A lot more sense than you two usually make. And in good company, with plentiful food and drink. I think this is one of the better ideas we have had.” The scout then began eating from his plate, which had a healthy helping of food. Even with his mouth full, the stallion spoke. “Aye, this is, indeed, a good place we have found ourselves in, and yet you look discomforted Riverdark.” The blue stallion shifted, hankering for a pipe so he could meditate, but he consented to bow his head to Gwarmli, who broke out into laughter that sounded like gravel underhoof. “I am best suited for the outdoors,” he offered his companions, who knew him far better than he knew himself. Riverdark felt cooped up, he felt strange. He’d rather be purging the shore of the hurricane threatened lands, calling out for those trapped and afraid. He’d rather be rescuing. “I’d much rather be out there,” he said as he looked to the nearest window, “there must be at least one who has not made it out of our old home. One who has not found their way to this new place.”

Gwarmli paused mid bite, and stared at Riverdark. He could see that his friend looked unnerved, like a bird with broken wings. He could assume that the bottom river blue stallion wouldn’t be able to enjoy the party properly, as he always had a hard time with large gatherings and festivals. His mind was ever thinking and turning on helping others, ensuring freedom, aiding the weak. His singular cause for eternal happiness among all led Riverdark to not experience the feeling himself. “Just relax, son of the plains. This is a celebration.” He looked to Greanleef. Surely the blond stallion would know how to settle their friend’s unrest.

Sixx stumbled past a white maned mare, and he slid his hand over her shoulders before he moved on past, and Smallbird stiffened before glaring after him. She snorted before looking back to the paper and pen in her hands. There was only one thing she could think of, and it was how the old home had warmed her to the heart because of…those dear memories. She wondered briefly what Aiony was doing. She shifted in her chair and looked to the mare she’d settled herself beside. Icey blue eyes met the violet and sky blue ones of Smallbird, and the young mare looked away slowly. “I remember a great storm that purged the lands of our old home. Oh it was enormous, but it wiped everything clean and gave us all a fresh and clean start,” the healer told Smallbird. She smiled at the young mare, colored just as femininely as the pink hoofed mare beside her. “What do you remember about that place?”

And just as quickly as the healer had showed up, she rose and left with a polite ‘excuse me’ and once more Sixx was chasing her. “I remember,” Smallbird said to herself, then she looked up, searching out a familiar pattern.

Meanwhile, Shaysie had left Cirrus and was moving towards the orange and blue pain with a wide smile on his face. “Hail, Van,” he said saucily, moving to lean against the wall beside him. “It is turning out to be quite the party.” He glanced to the clipboard, trying to see if Cade had showed up yet, and then he looked to the brown eyes of the runner. A quirky grin then lightened his face.

(OOC: I’m sorry you guys, I went overboard.)

No party within a five day radius was safe from the fire burnished half-grown, and he had been ready for the farewell party the moment he heard about it. Walking into the community center, Tremor was already grinning as if he had done something wrong. He pounded Van companionably on the shoulder, absently patting his hip as he slid on by him, already canting his head back to scout out everyone around him.

He watched a fawn and white faced mare, with a plate full of more food than it looked like she could handle walk passed him, and he did not watch because he was curious as to just HOW she could eat that much, he watched because he wanted to touch. He immediately set off after her, following her through the rapidly thickening throng of unicorns, with the music already thumping he felt excitement flare through him, beating with the rhythm of the drums in the music. He couldn’t help but strut with it as he walked, and when he finally felt the music he did not stop himself from dancing.

He threw a hand up over his head, all knees and elbows even as a half-grown, he was gangly like an overgrown colt, and the sleek muscle beginning to really fill out under his pelt did not bulk him up. He grinned as he pumped his fist, whooping in his delight, his voice deep and rough. The length of his beard wasn’t the only evidence of just how much he’d grown.

“Yeah! C’mon!” he urged, ignoring the hateful look he got from the two toned, yellow eyed stallion who had gotten caught between him and a mess of unicorns socializing.

“Please, get off of me.” Diffetto growled, and he just rolled his eyes and sighed when Tremor laughed and proceeded to dance up against him, as he would have against a young mare. Diffetto glared at the ceiling, and after remaining quiet and still long enough Tremor lost interest in Diffetto, and moved on again after Glittir.

While Tremor skirted off towards the painted mare, Diffetto was able to work on passed the group he had almost become a part of, and towards the table where most everyone was gathered around the punch. He approached it, glancing towards Cirrus as he grabbed a cup to gather some punch from the bowl. “Hey.” He murmured, just holding the cup as he waited for an older stallion to get his own cupful and move on.

“I saw you,” he continued, pointing over one shoulder towards the door where he had entered from and saw her from. He meant to sound as if he had merely seen her in passing, though in reality Diffetto had only come to this shin-dig because he had guessed Cirrus. He didn’t elaborate though, just glanced towards Moonfollow almost crossly, and before he stepped closer to Cirrus and simply sat his cup down and stared at her. “How are you?” he asked, absently picking lint from the shoulders of his black button down shirt, before he crammed his hands deep into the dark denim jeans he wore the shirt tucked into, and he watched her intently, having a mini-fit over how pretty she was standing by the punch bowl, as if it somehow added to her overall beauty, like a fire or something like that might have.

While Diffetto was nearly drooling, Moonfollow was shucking back another cup of punch, already. Something was off about it, but he quite liked the off taste to it. He had never tasted punch like it before, it made him rather warm and comfortable very quickly, and already he was spooning out his third cup of the drink. He looked around as he drank it, wiping his graying muzzle against the back of a hand as he lowered the cup, drained already.

He hiccoughed, chuckling and apologizing to himself for being rude, and then set to doling out another helping of the punch. He glanced over a shoulder, to the line forming behind him and quickly grabbed himself a second cup full, before he smiled and dipped out of the way of the other party-goers, mouth already attached to the side of one cup.

The elder stallion, handsome in his old age and in his black T-shirt and clean pressed khaki pants, moved off to the end of the table, reluctant to move too far from the punch bowl but too polite to just stand in the way. He glanced to the lovely pink and yellow mare who was busying herself with the punch bowl, and observed her quietly while he supped off the mouth of his cup. He was finished with it quicker than he had expected, and peered into the cup as if questioning where the juice had gone. He shrugged, and slid the full cup into the empty cup, glancing up to Sahana again he smiled, hoping to be charming and catch her eye. With such a gratuitous amount of the compromised punch in his system, Moonfollow was not so good at being as charming and subtle as he normally was, already well on his way towards smashed he was still nursing a cup full of the tainted punch, and the strong liquor was crippling his sensibility, among other things. He recognized that Sahana was beautiful, and managed to overlook just how much younger than he she probably was, thanks in part to Sixx and his sleight of hand.

“I like this song!” he called to her, motioning towards the ceiling, as if the song were really coming from the ceiling and he flashed her a grin. “This is my era music, you know, old guy music!” he teased, almost a little too giddily, and hiccoughed gently, this time apologizing to Sahana instead of himself alone. “Pardon me!” he chuckled, and took another drink from his cup, pointing vaguely towards the punch with his face still in his own cup. He finally surfaced, swallowing and laughed. “That’s good, real good. I’ve never had any like it, try.” He urged, without finishing his sentence, and watched her quite companionably, as if he had known her for quite some time already.

While Moonfollow tried to set himself up to lay the smooth on, Tremor had finally caught up to Glittir, and gently caught her elbow, swinging himself to face her and grinning at her as if he were unhinged. “Hey mama.” He drawled, and leaned forward as if he might give her a friendly, hug, which he did, but he licked all the way from her cheek up under her eye, before he drew back. He just grinned, as if this were an acceptable sort of greeting, shuffling his feet and moving his hips with the music even as he stood there with her elbow still under his hand. “How you doin’?!” he asked, glancing towards her plate of food and he gave her an “Oh, you shouldn’t have” sort of look.

“Damn, mare, that all for me?!” he asked, and set to picking through the plate, drawing out a grape to push into his mouth and he grinned at her around it, and stepped back out of the way of a group of unicorns trying to get passed, backing towards a group of chairs where the more sedate of the party-goers were already set. Danaet sat in one of those chairs, with Juju perched on the side of it, the both of them looking expectantly towards Glittir. When Tremor licked her in front of the both of them, they both reacted in very different way. Juju, jealous and possessive enough for three unicorns swore outloud at Tremor, who just grinned at him while Danaet rolled his eyes, and stood, reaching out to take the plates of food from Glittir.

"Tremor." he mumbled, and Tremor nodded his head in greeting to Danaet, while avoiding Juju's spiteful glare. "Chill, brother!" he laughed, holding out a hand to show he meant no harm. "I was just sayin' hi!" he urged, and Juju snorted, stepping towards Glittir to pull her towards him. "Well don't next time, kid." he snapped, and Tremor just laughed, snugging himself up against Glittir's back and tucking his chin into her neck. He batted his eyelashes and Juju, and hugged her tight to him.

Before Juju could attack, Danaet grabbed him by the back of his black leather jacket, and drug him down into a chair. "Just sit, Ju, honestly." he said, and turned blue eyes towards Tremor, who continued to hang on tight to Glittir. "Let her go, Trem." he sighed, and Tremor, surprisingly released her, but left a hand at her elbow as he glanced around the group the two sat in.

Among this group, Greenleaf sat quietly and alertly, his pen and pad of paper held in his lap as he observed the room around, while listening to his small friend grunt and prattle. He maintained a peaceful, almost haughty sort of look all through the scout’s pestering, only glancing once in a knowing sort of way towards his dear friend Riverdark. He looked towards the ugly little stallion, smirking softly before he leaned forward and spoke, his voice elegant and refined as to the rough, rocky way in which Gwarmli spoke.

“I believe that many of the ideas Riverdark and I have are very good, in fact, all of them.” He said, lifting his brows delicately before he leaned back into his seat, relaxing into the cushions of the chair but maintaining and rigidity even in his relaxed state that many would have mistaken for the tension of someone expecting an attack. “It’s just a matter of you understanding the reasoning in our plans.” He continued, motioning towards Gwarmli. “There are times when you are slower to pick up on the things that we realize quite quickly – it is in the nature of the Scout’s, I assume, to be slower than their taller, more handsome counter-parts.” He explained, and glanced towards Riverdark with a smile as though he had not just insulted their little friend.

He recognized the restlessness in his friend, and felt it somewhere in his own stomach, the urge to be out among the storm, not in the safe confines of the hall of their new home. He wanted to be out amongst the battle, to wait out the storm, help those whom had perhaps not gotten away in time. He nudged a hooved hand against Riverdark’s forearm, before he smoothed out his dark green shirt, and motioned towards Gwarmli. “He is right, Ellewa.” He said softly, calling him by the old name his family had given to him, something he rather often called him. “Be at peace, relax your heart and your mind for a time – a warrior is no help to the weak if he is wearied and worn. You must take the time to yourself from time to time.” He told him quietly, and glanced around the room to all those around them, before he looked back to Riverdark. “Be glad for those who are here with us now, and as soon as these frivolities have ended we shall head to the shores of our old home, and search out those among them who may be lost. Our people are a cunning and resilient folk, they will know where to go for safety.” He said, and gave him a meaningful sort of look, urging him to take his words to heart and to relax, and have a good time.

“Perhaps you should have some of the punch.” He said, waving a hand towards the table, and he scooted forward in his seat, silently offering to go get a cup for his friend.



((WOW, I got so carried away with this, and there’s not even everyone here yet! XD))

"Rrrrrohar Bluemane!" Mrr eased out of Scylla's welcoming embrace to sling an arm around the peach stallion's shoulders. "My mate couldn't be herrre," he said apologetically to Rohar, as Scylla halloo'd to Cocoro and waded away from the pard on her way to see her cousin, Cocoro.

"All of the cubs seem to have come down with the same flu," Mrr explained, "but with sufficient disinfecting, I join you in theirrrr stead." This spoken with a small half-bow, a spark of humor in his brilliant green slitted eyes. Mrr's gaze roved away from Rohar for a moment, spotting the bright wall of lemon yellow that was Dusk, and grinned with the warm memory accompanying the mare. For all their difficulty, he respected that lady more than many. When he thought he caught her eye, Mrr saluted, then returned his attention to the peach stallion at his side.

"And how farrrres yourrrr little brrrrood, Bluemane?" Mrr asked politely, remembering Rohar's pale silver mate and that the last time he'd met them, Twilight was certainly in foal.

Meanwhile, Scylla found herself quite suddenly surrounded by deep crimson filly. The buoyant energy seemed almost too much to hold within her grip, sparking and crackling with vitality. Shocked at first beyond speech, the orange healer simply struggled to settle her racing heartbeat and keep her hold on young Celeste. Finally, after a few moments that seemed lifetimes in slow exaggerated motion, Scylla caught the filly's shoulders and pushed her just far enough away to see her face. You've been missed. I've missed you. I'm so sorry I-- I don't know what to say. I wish... I was so worried... I never stopped thinking about-- "--You... you've gotten so tall!" Scylla controlled the tremor in her voice, disguising it in laughter, and caught her surrogate daughter close to her again. So preoccupied was she that she nearly missed the flash attached to the lavender tail... but not quite. She caught her breath, then leaned in and nibbled the base of Celeste's budding horn as if nothing had occurred, heart light as the feather of a kite.

Lightning flashed outside and thunder shook the floorboards underfoot as rain began to hammer the roof. Someone called out "Here it comes!" and Vall hurried to the windows accompanied by a gaggle of young adults, his sister Fia among them. Shortly thereafter, the door swung open again. Neo staggered a little on the threshold, drenched to the bone. At his side was Breakwater, who'd by now developed the sense to wear a raincoat, but seemed withdrawn and shaken in spite of his precautions. Ah, well. Socializing was better than spending the day under his bed. Well. Better for him, probably. He guided Neo to the fire, then left him at the hearth and went to hang up his slicker. By the time he'd returned, the merry unicorn assembly had already passed the soaked red stallion a towel and he was busily engaged with squeezing the moisture from his mane. Helping hands plied them both with pads of paper and mugs of hot cider.

"It's f-f-f-." Neo swallowed, inhaled, and began again. "It's f-f-frickin' FREEZING."

"And then it's muggy," Breakwater added, patting Neo's shoulder, "disgusting out there."

"There goes the old member pages!" Vall's resonant voice carried over the happy din, followed by the excited shouts of his young companions.

Across the room, leaning against the wall and content at the moment to be an observer, Van watched the festivities with growing satisfaction. He'd shaken hands and exchanged pleasantries with no small number of guests, but felt no need to mingle... just yet. When Shaysie singled him out, he still relaxed in the same spot. "So it is," Van replied, lifting an eyebrow at the other stallion before he returned the grin. "How is it that I missed seeing you come in? Have you been hiding from me?" Van's smile widened, and he continued with a nicker of laughter and a toss of his head. "Enjoying yourself?"

The Crew (with more to come. Hooboy. And I'm still missing a couple! Games start in a bit!)
[ooc: Gwarmli kills me ded. DED, I tell you.]

“Why you!” Gwarmli roared, his dark eyes observing the blonde stallion with his brows knit tight and low and his face contorted in an angry grimace. “The scouts are not as slow as you make out and assume to think,” he said, voice promising threat. “You’ve taken my words from mouth- here I sought to say the same of you! Quick to dish blame on others are the tall ‘proud’ Free People of the plain. That is the way of it,” he said, holding up a gloved hand, and then he drained his cup. Amber liquid dribbled down into his beard to freckle his legs, but he took no notice, instead he looked again to Greanleef with an expression akin to a soldier preparing for battle. “I would hold you in high esteem for your skill in battle, were your nose not held high and haughty when not tucked down to fence!”

Riverdark couldn’t help but smile at Gwarmli’s upstart. “Friend, you would hold Greanleef in high esteem?”

The little muddy red stallion tossed back his ale and pointed at Riverdark, eyes flashing, before he turned a hoof to Greanleef. “Only such esteem as you deserve.” Now it was Gwarmli who looked out over the massive meeting hall at the shouts of thunder and the home’s demolition. The party-goers had braced their hearts for the storm, and many of them cried out in joy and excitement and while Gwarmli did not join them, he did feel a sense of trepidation. It would all be over soon, the comfort of the hall and the plentiful food, the warmth of a roaring fire and…ale. “Your fighting deserves as much recognition as I would give. You would no sooner fight than dance and sing, like the rest of your people.” He sniffed indifferently, taking a large bite of something that had, at one point, been food, but now had been so thoroughly mixed with other things that it looked like something found in a garbage can. “But you are changed,” he said with an offensive sneer, “so much more so than your kin. You seek adventure and slay oppressors on your horn, under the command of Riverdark. Ha ha. Full of contradictories you are, renegade! And with such negation of actions, I hear your words but hear such different tones in your voice.” He guffawed in a growling giggle, scrubbing a dirty hoof across Greanleef’s shoulder in something of a companionable, yet rough shove. “You mean to compliment me and my stout heart, true honor, and deep courage. And I accept!” Gwarmli, and even Riverdark, laughed.

The blue stallion leaned back in his chair, the quarrelling of his companions making him feel a bit less out of place than he had felt moments earlier, and even though his jaw was tight, and heart troubled, he relaxed. When Greanleef had spoken, he had listened, and he knew that the other meant well and told the truth. It was true that the unicorns were hardy and resilient. They would find shelter in the storm and no doubt find their way. But it greatly relieved Riverdark to hear Greanleef vow to take to the shores in a private rescue mission. It eased him, and he visibly relaxed. And then Greanleef had offered to go get some of the punch, and Riverdark knew that he had to have seen, or at the very least heard, the actions of the fire toned half-grown. “I would have you drink with me,” Riverdark started with just a hint of a smile, “were I confident you would not be mostly impervious to the drink.” Gwarmli grunted about Greanleef being able to, somehow, hold his liquor…and while he didn’t mention cheating, Riverdark knew that the scout wanted to accuse their friend of it.

“Darned cups,” Gwarmli complained, holding up his empty container. “Back in the grand halls of Dragonsholm, there were vast bowls to sup from, and goblets far greater than these dainty cups you free folk drink from. These quench but a sip!”

“Perhaps if you didn’t water your beard with mead, you’d be able to swallow much more.” The blue stallion said. Gwarmli grunted and then stood, glancing to Riverdark. “Now to find some more to drink. Did you say the punch was tainted?” And without another word, the scout waddled towards the punchbowl, roaring loudly and thumping several unicorns on the back in celebration.

“There are few who could rival your place in my affections. Indeed, there are none.” Riverdark said between the silence measured in the long breaths of he and his companion. He gave Greanleef a genuine smile before he moved a hand to his pocket. He searched the inside of his jacket for the pipe he had long since lost, and when he pulled his hand from his pocket, empty, he leaned back in his chair and sighed slightly. He didn’t know what to do with himself. “Have you a pipe?” he finally asked Greanleef, even though he knew the stallion didn’t smoke, and wouldn’t have one.

Sixx paused when Vall called out, narrating the damage, and he yelled “Yea! Rock on!” before quieting and moving to the half grown he’d taken to palling around with. Tremor was, as usual, trying to spread the love around with some of the older mares that were, by all formal standards, single, and Sixx gave Glittir an appreciative once over as he came to stand beside Tremor. “Nice catch,” he said lewdly, giving Danaet a trashy smile.

“He hasn’t caught anything,” Glittir said, appalled at Tremor’s affectionate lick and amused at Juju’s behavior. Deftly she worked herself out of the half grown’s hold and turned to look him in the eye, her copper eyes burning with a fire that told him to beware her temper. “Be off with you, colts. I’m sure your dam would have something to say to you, Tremor.” Glittir scolded, resting a hand on the stringy shoulder of him. His half dayan dam would indeed have something to say to him, about manners and respect towards mares. Sixx had been a negative influence on Tremor, as far as Glittir was concerned, but she didn’t say anything in front of him. “Go on, go on! Shoo.”

Sixx grabbed Tremor’s bicep and pulled him away slowly. “Aw, c’mon…we don’t want to hang out with bitter nags.” He flashed the mare a look that would normally slay a mare, and Glittir actually looked like his smile had impacted her slightly. Ignoring her as she’d so easily brushed him off, he moved away with Tremor with an expression that was quickly souring. “C’mon, let’s get some punch for you. I put some good stuff in it.” He then laughed and Glittir watched him lead the young stallion to the punch bowl.

“Never mind them,” she said, turning to face Danaet, and giving a dismissive look over Juju. “They are just young and foolish. Now, have I gotten you what you wanted, Danaet?” She looked to the large stallion, moving to sit beside him in a comfortable chair beside a large window. Her eyes rolled to look at the sky as she held an apple in her hooved hands. The storm forecasted for the day was going to come to pass, if the thunder and lightning were any clue, and the speaking from the healer’s son played great narrator.

Thinking along the same lines was the pale coated Shaysie. “He has a voice for narration,” he commented absently, to himself more than Van, but then he turned to the other stallion. “I must have slipped in behind a big group. Though I confess,” he said, looking around the room once more, “I was looking for Cade,” and after a brief pause he said “and his mate.” Something painful jabbed at his breast at the mention of the powder green…creature…that called himself Cade’s love. “So I did not serve you a proper greeting, as I should have upon entry.” He nursed his beer briefly, and then rolled his head and one ear to Van. “I look forward to the games,” he said, and a slow smile spread across his face. Though it was not out of his nature to flirt with another stallion, his romantic thoughts belonged solely to the stallion with a red mane. Still friendly, though, Shaysie lifted a hand with the pad of paper and smiled. “Do you know what the first game is going to be, then, Mr. Coordinator?”

(Omg Fia is there XD More of my crue to come along as well, a bit later, perhaps!)

Greanleef had fully expected Gwarmli to cry out and retaliate; in fact he would have been disappointed had the scout not risen to defend himself and attack. He withheld a smirk easily, only smiling gently and kindly at his friend, even in the face of his rampage. He listened as he spoke, keen mind quickly turning over everything the little one had said, but instead of immediately jumping to defend himself, or attack Gwarmli he looked to Riverdark when he spoke, as if bored of the little one.

He glanced between Gwarmli as River posed the question, and then looked to his dark blue friend, and spoke behind a hoof, loud enough for the scout to hear. “He holds me in the highest esteem.” He said quickly, and then settled his back into the cushions of the chair he was seated in, heart quite light as he smiled in spite of himself. Being between his good friends, even bickering with the littlest one Greanleef was content and happy. He absently fondled the tassel of one ear, scratching his hooved fingertips across the thin skin before he dropped his hand into his lap, and drew a circle on his dark khaki pants.

He looked to Gwarmli again, and simply blinked, swaying with the little one’s rough shove. He chortled, watching as quickly enough his raving turned to the liquor at hand, and he rolled his eyes. He knew that the stallion could hold his liquor, yes, but he could hold far more, and they had already exhausted this game. He wanted to request that Gwarmli bring him something as well, to perhaps start up that competition they always seemed to have, as if the Scout thought that one night he might be able to drink more, when really he never would be able to. Though he was small, he could hold down enough to rival that of most full grown plains and vale dwellers – but not Greanleef.

He looked loyally to Riverdark as the stallion, spoke, chuckling a little but saying nothing. He knew that he did not need to say anything to tell the stallion of how much he valued him, he had already done so enough times to assure River would never forget it. He reached out and patted his friend companionably and affectionately on the shoulder, before he dropped his hand into his own lap again.

He chuckled when Riverdark asked for a pipe, and gave him a questioning sort of look. “I do not smoke, why would I carry a pipe?” he pressed, but the tobiano had long known that Riverdark’s pipe had gone missing in some run from (or most likely towards) danger. He knew how much the stallion valued his pipe, as he valued some of his own things and so he had set about to whittling in his spare time months earlier. By now, the pipe was finished, and though it was no Mountain made smoking pipe with strength and robust beauty in its deep bloody oak, it was slender and sleek, pale in color and delicate in design. It would hold up to Riverdark’s wild life, though it looked more decorative than something the grungy stallion would carry, and that fact pleased Greanleef.

“I’ve seen a sadness in you since the day you lost that pipe, a mournfulness for the loss of a friend and a distraction, you no longer have a way to occupy yourself politely when there are no rebels to chase or fiends to spite.” He teased, and glanced towards where Gwarmli had disappeared, before he turned close to Riverdark, as if trying to hide what he was about to give to him.

“I find myself a craftsman in the late hours I play sentry.” He admitted, as he got into one of the deep pockets in his jacket and withdrew the pipe. He unwrapped it from the canvas he had been carrying it in to keep it protected, and glanced between the pipe and its intended owner expectantly. He knew Riverdark would appreciate it no matter what it looked like, but he still wanted his friend to be pleased with it.

Tremor just grinned, pursing his lips up for a kiss as Glittir scolded him and he cackled in his deep, grating voice, slicking his obnoxiously long ears back. “My dam would praise me for picking out such a pretty mare!” he crooned, and then bared his teeth in a large smile though his dam would have done quite the opposite. He laughed as he was shooed, ignoring the attempted punches Juju was throwing his way. He ducked them quickly and skirted off with Sixx towards the punchbowl.

He glanced back over a shoulder, towards the trio, where Juju still stood looking like he wanted to take a bite out of the sofa, and Danaet had his brows furrowed down. Of the two, Tremor feared Danaet most because he was both large, and subdued. He had gotten in numerous fights, and quite often if he were to get in fights with the big quiet ones he got his rear whupped. He looked ahead again, towards the punch bowl and he grinned obnoxiously at Sixx. “Yeah, what did you put in it?” he asked enthusiastically, but did not wait for an answer before he went to doling out a cup for himself.

He tossed it back, drinking it down quickly, like someone out of the desert might, and when it was empty he went back to filling the cup. He glanced towards the sunny coated mare that Diffetto was standing with, and nudged Sixx with an elbow, sucking in a breath through teeth. “Dayum!” he exclaimed, and smiled obscenely at the mare. He looked back to Sixx quickly though, and then around, taking a slower drink from the cup now. “Anyone fun here?” he asked, once he had finished his drink, and he leaned his hips into the table, leaning like a half bent tree over the punch bowl.

“I swear if he wasn’t a half-grown…” Juju trailed off, hatefully eyeing Sixx, whom he wanted to skewer by now, even from across the room. Danaet punched him in the hip, and he lifted an arm as if he might strike out, but the orange stallion ignored it, going through the plate of food happily. “Yes, Glit, you got me everything, it looks great – thank you.” He told her with a smile, and glanced out the window beside her before he looked back to her. He scooted his own chair close quite easily, pulling it across the carpeted floor to bump arms to hers, and he held the plate between himself and her, offering her silently to pick from the plate. He glanced towards Juju, extending the same offer, and quite quickly the blue and black stallion had seated himself, calmed and taken the plate.

Danaet sighed, setting his ears back and he snatched it back. “Ju, just pick off of it, it’s not your plate.” He said, and Juju glowered, but did not try to take the plate again. He brightened almost instantly, shoving an apple slice into his mouth as he looked towards Glittir, giving her a flirty smile. “Why don’t you and I go dance, filly.” He drawled, and Danaet threw a grape at him. Juju bared teeth, and Danaet just chortled, offering a strawberry to Glittir. “If you two go dance I come too.” He reminded Juju, watching Glittir lovingly.

The sky was deepening outside into a blackness that reflected the devastation occurring miles and miles away. Roiling clouds created a thick soup that blocked the stars and sky from view fully now, and the only light came from the blue flashes of light forking through the clouds. Riverdark eased himself, more comfortable with being inside as the rain took a turn for the worse, pounding hard against the windows. A breeze rose and died frequently, driving the rain hard against the glass along with debris before pulling it away again. A genuine smile formed on the blue stallion as he took the delicate looking instrument, and he held it gently in his hooves. He inspected it with great care. “This is no small gift, and I will cherish it,” he told Greanleef, turning the pipe over in his hands to inspect the long and slender slope of the pipe. He slid his thumb over the rim and then dipped it smoothly into the weed chamber, gauging it’s depth. He found the cavity to be neither shallow, nor narrow, and this pleased him. Next he cupped the bowl of the pipe, cradling it in his palm easily and was pleased to feel it’s serious lack of weight and the comfort with which it rested there.

“It is well made,” he complimented, finally looking to his blonde friend, and he bowed his head respectfully. “Thank you.” He had no time to hide it before Gwarmli stomped back to them, coarse mane bouncing like some accompaniment to his cheery smile.

“Tis good liquor the punch was laced with. But much like vale mares, it lacks a hardiness. I fear to drink too much of it and become affected quickly, but have it last naught but an hour. He procured a large tankard of ale in one hoof, and on the other two tall chalices of the same drink. Smooth foam spilled like a cascade down the side of the goblets, and the scout smiled even wider, passing the drink to his two friends before guzzling from his own goblet.

Gwarmli resurfaced and his eyes swung around the room and the festive banners hung upon the walls as he whipped at his upper lip with his sleeve, ridding it of the foam from his ale. The scout then laughed heartily, seating himself in the chair he’d left previously. “This is a celebration fit for kings,” he observed gruffly, and he looked around. “What do the pair of you wager that Moonbrow is here?” There was no answer and the scout snorted. “Ah, it would be you to think you were the guest of honor, wouldn’t it you pointy eared-” his colorful curse drew the attention of several guests as he pointed at the elegant and refined Greanleef. He never minded that the stallion had said nothing to him on the subject of the celebration, but a devious smile curled his thickly whiskered lips before they disappeared behind the rim of his tankard.
Sixx threw back a cup of the punch, tasting only punch and hardly any of the tasteless alcohol he’d put in the punch. Wonderful. He lazily rested a hand against the table and looked down at Tremor as the half-grown stood bent as a tree would. “Interesting enough,” he consented, looking around the hall for some form of entertainment. His eyes skipped over Vall and his younger sister in tow, and then he looked to several of the elder unicorns, including his grandparents. He snorted softly and shuffled a hand through his mane, scattering it over the crest of his neck. He then turned his eyes to the now docile Juju, Glittir, and Danaet. He’d hoped they’d start a brawl with Tremor that he could jump in on, but since they hadn’t, he now searched for something else. His eyes skipped around the room, and finally they landed on the crazed rain outside of the large picture windows. A smile crept up his muzzle and he dipped his head, looking to a group of mares looking at him and Tremor. Slowly he looked to the half-grown stallion, and he rolled a shoulder with a devilish smirk. “Let’s go play some soule. C’mon.” He grabbed Tremor’s shoulder and yanked him forward, passing a couch on his way to the door, where he grabbed a decorative pillow for the game. “Remember how to play? Alright, I have the ball, and I’ll try and get it to-”

He explained all the way outside, making up the rules of the game as he went, and then he smiled widely once he was outside. He threw the pillow down in a mud puddle and ripped his leather jacket off of his shoulders, baring his broad and painted chest. “Alright…let’s just get as muddy and dirty as we can get playing with this…” He stooped and picked up the pillow, then chucked it at Tremor as the rain pelted down on them both, getting them both soaked. “Then we can run back inside and…well…give them something to party about.” He wiggled his hips and then his eyebrows before he laughed and charged Tremor to take the pillow from him.

Glittir shook her head, rolling her eyes at Juju. “I told you, Juju, I’m not going to dance! Go dance with each other.” She slicked her ears back irritably before she took a bite of the apple. She sighed deeply, bored with the events and numbed at the ‘celebrations.’ She looked to Danaet and leaned close to him, a pessimistic purse to her lips. “These things always end up going really stale rather quickly. I don’t see why we had to come. We should have just stayed home and done our own thing.”

Greanleef was pleased, to say the least. It filled him with immense warmth to see that his friend truly did appreciate the gift, though he had known all along that he would have. He smiled gently, dipping his head in a nod to his friend, not quite willing to verbally thank him for his compliment in the pipe’s construction. He had taken quite a deal of time making sure it would serve him well, he had even considered making it of bone they had come across one evening, but had decided that the wood he had come across later the next day was much better suited for pipe making. The bone would have perhaps turned brittle, and no doubt would not have smelled very nice, even if he had used the same sap and wax finish on it as he did on the pipe Riverdark now held.

He placed a hand over his heart when his friend thanked him, bowing his head gently and smiling. “You are most welcome, brother.” He said softly, glancing up as he heard Gwarmli make his approach – breathing heavily, stomping his heavy feet and grunting as he always did. He looked back to Riverdark, leaning back in his seat and tossing the sooty stallion a pouch of smoking herb with a wink. “Though I know you carry your own, in hopes you may come across a pipe to use, I picked up some for you in our travels through the Vale from a few of our friends – Merraduce and Peregrite. The purveyors of the pipe that they are, they helped me pick the best there was to find.” He told him, and briefly watched his friend before he looked to Gwarmli, and accepted the tankard with a nod of thanks.

He supped off the rim, glancing to the ugly little scout over the top as he absently prattled, finally coming back around to insulting Greanleef himself, familiar ground for the little one. It made him want to chortle, but he merely lowered the large mug and wiped his lip free of the froth gently. He glanced towards a few of the mares beyond them, who looked a bit shocked and he lifted a hand to his breast, giving them an imploring and charming look of apology. “I pray that you may find it within you to forgive our friend,” he called to them, glancing slyly towards Gwarmli only briefly, before he again directed his attention to the mares, whom paid him attention simply because he was handsome, as was the dark blue stallion at his side. “Long has it been since he has known the joys of civilized company and unfortunately he has forgotten how to conduct himself in such grace.” He continued, and paused for only a moment before continuing. “And the stars above know, he has taken too much pleasure in the ale, I sincerely hope that he has not offended you with his coarse language, boorish manners or his…” he paused, surveying Gwarmli for a moment as he attempted to find a suitable word. “… Bestial, grubby outward show… and I take it upon myself as my own fault if he has done so. You have my deepest of apologies.” He finished, and provided them with the same bow of his head that he treated Riverdark with.

As they dispersed, he looked towards Gwarmli calmly and took a drink of his ale, before holding out a hand to him and smiling, lowering the tankard. “Oh, I assure you, I meant quite the opposite of everything that I told those lovely two. I am more than that they know well my habit for lying and singing contrary for what I truly feel.” He said, smiled in a placate manner and turned his muzzle into his tankard again.

“C’mon lily! Ahaha!” Tremor laughed, amid the rain and the mud while he dodged and ducked out of Sixx’s charge, making it a point to trip and fall right into the mud with the pillow. He rolled onto his side and shoulder, while lightning forked overhead and thunder boomed, other unicorns ran into the building as fast as their feet would carry them over the unsteady ground. Tremor screamed in humor and mirth, grabbing a handful of mud and slinging it at Sixx as if in an attempt to deter him from attacking.

He did not bother to take off the white button down shirt he wore, and he held no regard for his jeans nor his pelt. He scrubbed himself in the mud as he rolled and crawled and attempted to get away from Sixx, but did not try very hard.

Danaet chuckled gently, eating the strawberry whole, puckering his lips against the slightly sour taste of it before he picked up one of the several brownies that Glittir had smartly gathered, and he gave her an warm look. “Mayhap we can keep it fun, Glit, it doesn’t have to go stale for us.” He told her, glancing towards the window as the storm raged on. Briefly, he caught sight of Sixx and Tremor cavorting in the mud, and he watched it for a few moments, before Juju spoke and his attention was drawn back into the room.

“Yeah, kitten – that’s why we should dance.” He pressed, and Danaet gave him an impatient kind of look. “She’s already said she does not want to dance, and I don’t want to dance with you so dancing is out of the question, Ju.” He reminded the darker colored stallion, who just grunted and watched Glittir in an almost obsessive kind of way before he chose to spoke again. “Well there’s supposed to be games, maybe we’ll win something, I bet we could win all the games.” He commented, absently motioning to the pad of paper and pencil he had tossed onto the table before them. “Or, we could start our own games.” He drawled, and tossed a look of challenge towards Danaet, whom much to his chagrin was deeply involved in admiring Glittir’s profile. He felt a jealousy swell in him, and shoved a palm into Danaet’s shoulder, barely moving the large stallion, who gave him a short look.

“What do you say?” he challenged, and Danaet snorted, giving him a condescending kind of look. “I don’t even know what you’re prattling about, Ju, shutup.” He muttered, and Juju swept the table clean, taking the plate from Danaet and shoving it to Glittir. “Hold that, flower.” He told her, and then gave her a rather stupid, encouraging sort of smile, before looking back to Danaet. He swept up the sleeve of his leather jacket, and slammed his elbow down into the table, placing his other palm flat on the table. “C’mon, Danaet,” he urged, and Danaet chortled and rolled his eyes. “Please.” He stated simply, and offered Glittir some of the brownie he was inhaling. “I’d break your arm.” He muttered absently, giving Glitter a fond, almost flirty sort of smile, while Juju roared his outrage.

((Lol, Sixx and Tremor <3))

Gwarmli roared, aiming a hoof at Greanleef. “Ye should not lie to the mares, young stallion,” he called, despite how close the blonde stallion was, “that is not the quickest way to get the pleasant attention of fairer company.” He belched, and then took another deep gulp. Setting the mug down on his knee, the ugly scout shook out his beard and pounded a fist down on the table the trio was sitting at. “Back in the caves of Dragonsholm, the mares were feisty and sturdy with hardy bones and heavier coats than your fine boned fillies around here.

He gave Greanleef a smart look, effectively letting the insult roll from his shoulders with a tense chuckle before he continued. “I have shown no rudeness. Not at all. A large gathering of weary stallions from travel and errands of peril should not be news to those of fairer persuasion. Although I wouldn’t wish to chip these gems with hardy language. Plains and vale folk are not only fine of bones but fair of ear to avoid true language.” He glanced up when a mare howled in laughter, slapping at the chest of a stallion, and he motioned towards the pair. “You see? There’s nothing language can’t build or unbuild, given enough time.” The stallion spoke to the hooting mare, and she wilted, nuzzling him. Happy with this pure example of…whatever he was trying to say, he turned and looked over to his friend, expecting some witty response.

“You think mighty highly of yourself,” Gwarmli said matter of factly, if the coarse stallion could sound matter of fact at all. “But that vast opinion causes you to stick out like a tropical bird amid common ones.” A challenge kindled in the stocky unicorn’s eyes as he looked at the light colored stallion, but he didn’t know how to insight such a challenge. He was hesitant to start a drinking game, anyway.

Riverdark got his pipe lit, and stared down the long spout to the bowl happily. He was delighted to see the wood pipe work so well, and the clear taste of the smoke from the smoking herb filled his mouth and lungs and relaxed him. It also made him think of warm and lazy summers when he’d first set out on his own, exiled to the wilds by his own arrangement. Merraduce and Peregrite knew well their herblore, and which was the best tasting of all the herbs. He was thankful that Greanleef had gone to such a length for him, and a gentle smile quirked one corner of his lips. He was always mindful of those he traveled with, even when the stallion didn’t have to; impervious to being winded by his own excellent stamina, resilient to heat and cold, and advanced in all levels of senses Greanleef never boasted and always thought of others before himself. Crafting a pipe during his night watch and then obtaining the herb…he’d gone above and beyond yet again, and Riverdark had to once again add this on his list of things to thank the stallion for.

“My friends,” he said through a mouthful of smoke, “mind the celebration. Do not make it a fools gesture with your quarrelling.” In truth Riverdark did not mind the words exchanged. It was a note of familiarity when the others argued, and it made him feel like he was laying at the base of the trees in the Pan woods with the threat of shadows all around with his company close at hoof. It was a warmth they provided him with their bickering, with Greanleef’s regal and princely ignorance and Gwarmli’s rugged provocation. “Ah, young Riverdark, ever making peace…even between friends.” But he said nothing more.

Sixx wheeled in the mud and slipped. Down he fell, though it looked very…intentional. His hit his side and grunted deeply, flicking his red and gold mane from one side of his neck to the other. “Haha, you nub brow nursling! I’ll teach you what happens when you taunt stallions!” He lunged in the mud, his tail flailing as he wrapped his arms around the other’s waist and dangled like a leech. His tail thumped in the mud, splattering mud in all directions. The thick, wet, black dirt clung to his fur and made him look no longer red and white, but umber and cream. His face was freckled with the muck and his mane was plastered to his neck and soaked, and streaked brown. “Arrgg!” He bellowed loudly through clenched teeth. Sixx wore a smile as he held tightly to his shoulder-friend, and his hooves scrambled in the mud and the muck, trying to avoid rocks. One sharp rock, though, he couldn’t avoid, and it latched onto his pants.

Riiiiiiip.

The half-grown turned to look down at his pant leg, ripped from the hip to the bottom hem. It hung like a tattered flag from his leg, exposing his under shorts and the long damp length of his muscular leg. He swore, but did not release his hold on Tremor’s waist as the other half grown wore him like a belt, staggering to get away. He swore again, loudly, a word that would have gotten him slapped by any elder who’d have heard him, and another curse was drowned out by his own dark laughter and the sound of thunder grumbling overhead. “My pants!” he shrieked, looking to his tattered pants again. He held fast to Tremor’s hips, but the rain was making it harder and harder to hold on, and with his cheek smashed against the small of the other’s back, and his pants getting heavier and heavier with water and mud, he was losing his grip. Sixx redoubled, and latched onto Tremor with renewed strength and determination…but in his fortitude to hold tighter to the other halfgrown, he was leaving something else behind in the mud.

“My pants!” he yelled, with a whole new meaning than before. “My pants, Tremor! My pants!” But he knew that Tremor would neither care, nor stop, and inch by inch Sixx’s pants slid down his hips to reveal ink black undergarments beneath. He howled in laughter, working his legs to keep the pants on his person, before he just shrieked a curse and struggled against Tremor, his arms slipping down the other’s legs, taking those pants with him. He hooted in laughter as he dragged Tremor’s jeans down, his arms locking around the halfgrown’s knees as he eyed the pillow! “AHA!”

Glittir shrieked when Juju swept his forearm over the table, and she leapt up, pointing at him with a vengeful expression on her face. “Juju, don’t you do that again!” Do what; scare her? Clear off the table with one arm? Threaten Danaet? She didn’t elaborate on her instruction, but rather glowered at the blue stallion as her heart thumped in her chest. “And don’t call me filly,” she commanded belatedly. Slowly she lowered herself into her seat again and finished up her apple, pinching her nostrils in annoyance. She didn’t comment immediately on Danaet’s words to have fun on their own, but instead sat and marinated over the advice. “Yea,” she said quietly, glancing to the large orange stallion so that he would know she was talking to him, and not herself. “I suppose you’re right. We don’t really have to-” she was watching Juju and the press of his biceps, and his unchecked display of testosterone. She looked away, blushed. “Have to…uh…yea.”

Upon being greeted boisterously by the golden pard, Rohar sighed a little at Mrr's apologetic explanation that Irarr and the cubs were indiposed due to the flu. It was a pity, at such an event, but the peach stallion knew that the pard's family wouldn't have absented themselves unless they were really feeling ill
"Ah, well, sorry to hear," he replied "Make sure you give them my greetings and best wishes for a speedy recovery."
The peach stallion pricked his ears up at Mrr's question about his own family, any disappointment over not having been able to be reacquainted with the pard's mate and cubs soon forgotten in his delight at telling Mrr his own news.
"The family is very well, I'm pleased to say .... Twilight had twin foals, a few years back, one colt Cirrioc and one filly, Tanira. I think Twi should be arriving soon, if she's not here already" the peach stallion said, casting his eye around for his silver mate and their twin children.
At that point, there was the sound of a youthful voice calling out eagerly in their direction. Cirrioc, who had just come in while they had been taken, had just been helping himself to lemonade, as well as a pen and paper, and was now waiting impatiently for the games to start, spied his father over with the golden pard. Though the little silver and copper colt had never met the pard, he'd heard tales from his father, and he rushed up excitedly, calling out, as he almost pounced on Mrr in his eagerness to be introduced.
"Father, father ?... is Mrr that you were always telling us about ? "
Rohar smiled at his son "Yes Cirrioc ... this is Mrr." and turning to the pard, he grinned "Mrr .... this is Cirrioc ... I've told him about you and our days together of course."
Meanwhile over by the warm fire, Sàilean pricked his ears, as did Gaiara, at the butter-yellow half grown's introduction. Both had been quietly sipping at their drinks, and listening, to the calls as the hurricane swept in and began to devastate the old land, watching out of the window at the lightning flashes, howling winds, witnessing the tides of water as they covered the old lands
Gaiara smiled at the young stallion, in a warm welcoming way, the elderly mare's maternal instincts coming to the fore at the sight of this youngster
"A pleasure to meet you Pip," she replied as Sàilean too, edged his way a little closer to the half, nodding in welcome and offering a hand in welcome, a little shyly. "Heya there ..... I-I'm Sàilean."
At Pip's comment, Gaiara smiled, blinking as she remembered all the memories of the old lands, all that had occured, the events of her long life, the joys as well as well as the sorrows.
"Aye, indeed it was," she agreed with the youngster. "A very pleasant place it was, and a lovely home it was too. I shall miss it"
"Yes," Sàilean agreed with the pair, his shyness beginning to ease in their company "A pity it's gone now, but at least we have the memories and records of the times and tales of it."

Tanira trotted into the party behind Cirrioc, letting her brother take the lead, as he usually did. Sometimes that annoyed her, but most of the time, she didn't mind. She always let him take the lead in the forest, because then he always got any of the spider webs that might hit her in the face before she did. The grey filly always had a good laugh about that whenever it happened, and Cirrioc always wanted to take the lead, even after that had happened several times. But here, she was more than happy for her brother's protectiveness.

There were lots of things to do here, and her curiosity was overwhelming her. She gazed around, somewhat bewildered at the cacophany of colors and voices. Her ears twitched back and forth, trying to pick up every possible sound. Eventually, she just shook her head in frustration and made her way with Cirrioc over to where there was lemonade to drink. Too many unicorns for me. I wonder where father is?
She looked around, searching for Rohar, it wasn't long before she spotted him...her sire was talking to...a...pard?!?! She watched Cirrioc bound up to their sire and greet him and the pard enthusiastically. Tanira was a little unsure of the pard, but her sire seemed to have no indication of danger, so her curiosity won out and she came up behind her brother, though perhaps a little less enthusiastically.

She got there in time to hear her father's words to her brother and finally understood who the pard was. She had heard many stories from her father about Mrr. "Hello, Mrr." She looked up at her father, then back to the golden cat, "I'm Tanira."

~Tanira

(Wow...she's going to be fun. Just doing this is giving me a nice feel for her character. *rubs hands together* Oh what fun. *grin*)

Greanleef quirked his brows as Gwarmli gave him the example he did – and completely lost Greanleef merely nodded his head slowly. “Ohh.” He stated gently, though know recognition flared in his face or his voice and he sat back, observing the Scout as he continued to speak and then looking to Riverdark when he finally broke in.

The tobiano stallion bobbed his head softly, lifting his mug towards the darkened stallion. “Aye, he is forever the reason to your madness.” He murmured, glancing to Gwarmli as he burrowed his muzzle into the rim of his mug. He prepared to drink, but then a thought came to him, and his ears perked and he looked up quite suddenly.

“Ellewa,” he said suddenly, reaching out a hand to clasp on River’s forearm. “Do you recall the two brothers we met beyond the Pan Woods, from the Vale, their names escape me at this moment in time, but you certainly recall them. They attacked us as we came from the Vale following the last visit we paid Morningstar…” he trailed off, briefly glancing towards his mug before he looked back to River to continue. “They told us their sire charged them with the duty of catching the spies he knew to be passing the woods, do you recall the duo?” he pressed, and only paused a moment before he continued.

“Just days ago, I met with the eldest of the pair and spoke with him – Boreem, do you remember? His sire has charged them both with another duty I fear does not suit either of them.” He said, and he grimaced a bit at the thought but quickly lightened his expressions. His features were never truly the reliable way to sort out just what he was thinking, he was a master of his own emotions and what he would allow others to perceive. Rarely was it that he allowed others to see him upset or angered, he remained stoic and elegant at all times, though in the presence of his two greatest friends Greanleef was a bit more inclined to allow himself his emotions. If it were not for the others around them, he might have remained hostile in his speech and his expression, but instead he calmed his voice and the lines in his face, and the intensity merely shown in his eyes.

“A fools errand, neither of them are pleased with it in the slightest and it is not hard to see. Boreem will not do to disappoint his sire though, he will live to the goats expectations and do as he bids. He sends him to gather friends of his whom have abandoned the Vale for the whispers he’s heard – of wars and betrayal. Boreem searches for stallions I can almost be certain are passed this world, or beyond the call.” He explained, and took a soft breath, pausing to glance around the room.

He surveyed the bright colors and vibrant smiles around him, and furrowed down his brow in his upset briefly. Now it was he, playing the restless one, he was now on alert and could not take peace in his company or the joy around. He glanced out the windows, watching the lighting score the sky while young ones clapped and cried out gleefully, elders watched a bit sadly. He found no delight in the storm at this point in time, an anger swelled in his breast and he was having difficulty swallowing it. In an attempt to dampen it’s heat, he burrowed his face into his mug and took a deep drink of the cool liquid. It sated his palette and cooled his belly, but it did not chill his temper.

He looked back to his dark friend.

“The old crow has gone mad in his age, he sends his progeny to do the work of a manic and does not stop to think –“ he stopped himself before he could go further, fearing he might yell if he were to continue on, and words he intended to speak were not such for yelling.

“Het umlah icht erop de mahrin det het polotra umahi rillock het trun!” he hissed, and his tongue was nimble with the language he and Riverdark had both learned in time from the little one’s in the Pan Woods. He took another soft breath, shoulders heaving with it as he burrowed himself back into the cushions of his chair, and he silently watched the storm play beyond the window.

“It is madness.” He whispered, and his eyes again found the two half-growns out in the rain, but he found no humor in their antics, even as Tremor’s jeans came down his legs. While the halfgrown drug his friend, he howled out his laughter, with no real care for the fact that his pants were no down around his knees and sinking, and he was there for everyone in the building to see in his white undershorts.

“Your pants?!” he yelled, laughter breaking his seedy voice up as he stumbled, trying to remain on his hooves. His laughter made him weak though, and Sixx was getting heavier and heavier on his legs as he continued to try and walk, rain gathering in his jeans and mud loading up the creases. He waddled awkwardly with Sixx around his knees, and paid no attention as the pillow was recovered, suddenly only interested in getting as far across the mud field and dragging as long of a path with his once was white friend as he could.

He stretched out a hand, reaching for a tree as if it might reach back and pull them both along he he was laughing as he did so, trying to speak around it but failing in his attempts. “Si-si-si…” he laughed, rolling his head back as he took one unsteady step forward, and then suddenly crashed down and into the mud fully. When he hit it was on his stomach, and for a fleeting moment he was both disturbed and panicked with Sixx’s positioning. “Watch your horn!” he yelled, belatedly, and quickly lost that fear he might be skewered and the disturbance in his friend laying across the backs of his legs. He laid his cheek in the mud and then threw his arms over his head, grabbing handfuls of the turf and pulling himself, or trying. He only succeeded in pulling rents in the ground repeatedly, caking mud in his fur and over his fingers. He kicked out of his jeans, because they were just getting in his way, and then he suddenly reared and rolled, throwing Sixx back with the movement and bearing down on him.

“MINE!” he shouted, and if it weren’t for the thunder that outdid him, Tremor might have been heard all the way in the building. He reached for the pillow, but then quickly went to grabbing his friends pants instead, and yanking at them, worsening the tear and trying to bring them down his legs. “I lost mine! I need yours!” he shouted over and over, though his own jeans lay not two feet from him, though they now resembled part of the landscape and were gathering copious amounts of water.

When Glittir shrieked, Juju cackled, looking demonically towards her and flexing his arm. “You like that, flower?” he purred. Danaet mimicked Juju, shoving him as he had moments earlier and it sent the dark blue stallion right off the arm of the chair he was perched on. The large, fire toned stallion leapt up, trying not to laugh and he glanced towards Glittir. “What was that? I must have missed something.” He said gently, and before he could look down towards Juju, who had clambered to his hands and knees the stallion had punched him right in the thigh and then lunged into his knees, as if to bowl him over.

Though Juju himself was a large stallion, he was not near as large as Danaet, who merely let out a “Woah!” of surprise, and stumbled back and fell into his chair. He then reached out, grabbed a tight hold on Juju’s horn and wrenched his head back. “Would you stop it, you moron.” He sighed, and Juju bared his teeth, looking wild. He grabbed a handful of Danaet’s beard, and the orange stallion jerked his head back, yanking the coarse, thick patch of hair right out of Ju’s hand. “Stop.” He repeated, and shook the blue stallion’s head by rattling his horn in his hand, and Juju roared. “Don’t treat me like a colt!” he snapped, and punched Danaet in the kneecap, before yanking his horn loose and jumping up.

He smoothed out his chest, stepping back after delivering a swift kick to his friends shin, and he looked to Glittir with a broad grin. “Let’s dance.” He chirped, and grabbed her wrist, taking the plate and dumping it into Danaet’s lap while the stallion held his shin.

Mrr greeted the young unicorns with all due gravity, extending a paw to each of them in turn. "Cirrrrrioc. Tanirrrra. An honorrrr." His plush throat rolled the purring consonants of the children's names until they seemed to take on a velvet life of their own. He closed one green slitted eye at the young female of the twins in a deliberate wink. "I do hope the storrrries your sirrrre has been telling of me arrre... favorrrrable," he said, smiling with only his lips and eyes, teeth carefully hidden, "he and I had not half the adventurrrres we should have, in my opinion. A brrrraverrr and more honorrrrable stallion I have not known. Ah--" one smoothly rounded golden ear planed backwards, and Mrr's attention detached from Tanira. His eyes flicked to the entryway, and he nodded with pleasure. "Ahh, Twilight. I thought I rrrrecalled that voice."

*****

With a double handful of her skirt caught up to keep it free of the damp grass, the silver-gray mare Twilight trotted up to the community center as quickly as she could. Rain and strong wind whipped at the windows now in fitful spurts, but her long purple plastic overcoat protected most of her from the elements. Needless to say, in spite of her best effort, between balancing her double-decker box of goodies and simply trying to stay on her feet, eventually her skirt was generously spritzed with rain. She'd been a bit late getting out of the house, and paid for it, but as soon as young faces spotted her through the window there were helping hands and hooves to usher her inside and unburden her cake, strawberries and sodden raincoat.

"Oh! Oh, good gracious, that will teach me to come early to these functions from now on, but the strawberries didn't spill, so I'm sure the small fry will forgive me," Twilight fretted playfully, then went to find whoever lifted her box of treats and help them arrange it on the table of potluck desserts.

A few minutes later, having shaken the last dewy drops of rain from her forelock and 'put herself together again' admirably in spite of her somewhat... darkened... skirt, Twilight crept up on Rohar and gently touched his back between his shoulderblades. "Hello m'love," she smiled, and lifted her soft eyes heavenward, "forgive me for being late. Dratted weather. At least it didn't spoil the cake!" Petal-velvet lips feathered against the top ridge of her mate's peach-colored cheek, then lifted to whiffle a strand or two of his blue mane. Twilight glanced down then, and reached out with her free hand to touch the nape of Tanira's neck. "Hello, kiteling," she murmured, and shared her glowing smile with Cirrioc as well.

A few minutes later, a piercing wolf-whistle sounded through the community hall, and as the cacophany of greetings, babble and laughter died away somewhat, a bright pink-and-lemon mare waved her arms to gather everyone's attention. Dewfire stood beside her, holding a stack of index cards.

"Can everyone hear me?" Sahana called out, her resonant voice carrying to the end of the building. A chorus of affirmative shouts, ripple of applause and a few hoots and catcalls followed. She grinned.

"Right, then. Our first game is simple. It's called 'Who Am I?'"

Dewfire brandished the index cards. The topmost card was printed with the name "JAN" in thick black lettering. Sahana went on.

"Anyone who wants to play this game, come to the front here with me! My lovely assistant--"

--Dewfire struck a pose, amid more hooting--

"--will tape one of these index cards to your back. Each index card contains a name. It's your job to guess what name is on your back based on how the other players speak to you. The first one to guess their own identity correctly wins a prize! But the game doesn't end until everybody's identity has been revealed. No cheating!" She waggled one blue-tipped finger at the crowd, "No yelling out names - although you're all encouraged to participate and help our contestants with their identities any other way you can! Come on now folks, who's brave enough for the first round of public humiliation?"

[ooc: To keep this simple (and fair!) none of my characters will have a card taped to their back. For this first game, please choose only one of your characters to participate. Once we have our contestants, I'll PM everyone separately with the contents of the other players' cards, and we can get started! I hope we've still got some interest in this thread, and I'm sorry for the lag.]