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Description
|Regale's Quests | Level 2 | Folklore or Fantasy
You ever get those drawings that you have a VISION for, and you start drawing it and it just flops
thats what this is :/ I was so excited to finish it but as time went on I disliked it more and more so I kinda rushed to the finish just to get it over with. Maybe I'll take a crack at it another time!

Folklore or Fantasy - With a hopefully full belly, your Ballator turns their mind to thoughts of stories they’ve heard; stories of mighty battles for all the realms, of gods and goddesses being reborn. What does your Ballator believe about the High and Lowlords? Do they believe in them all, only a few, or not at all? Depict your character any way you like for this challenge.

--

At last, a quest worthy of his time.
Regale wanted to know what he, the Priest, thought of the highlords and lowlords and those who had been lost to time? He would show the blue-horned stallion just how real he thought them to be.
Annoyingly, Regale had followed him here, to the Charred Plains. The Plains still smelled of ash, and only a scant few plants had dared grow in the burnt valley where the highlords had touched the earth in the War of the Realms. Wendigo had led Regale up to the cave, still smelling of death and rot, where Hannibal and his Legion had crafted and sipped the vile bloodfire potion that awoke the darkness inside those who tasted the foul, grease-ridden liquid in the hollow of the cave floor. Wendigo had been one of those, so long ago, to drink of it's power. Or perhaps the potion had no power at all; that was Hannibal's to know.

Regale looked around at the mouth of the cave, his nose wrinkling at the thick, pungent odor that hung heavily in the air. "I have never been to this place." He mumbled, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of what might have occurred here. He looked at the floor of the cave, cut up and shattered from many Legion's hooves clattering across this threshold on the day of the Battle. Dark stains, of which he could only imagine were blood, lay swathed across the floor and walls, and some bone and fur lay abandoned in it's recesses. Regale felt a pang of sadness for all the lives lost on that day, but he could not dwell on the horrors.

Wendigo continued down the long tunnel, his hoofbeats echoing as he went. Soon, his echos were joined by Regale's some distance behind, and the two traveled to the heart of the cave. A blue-green pool, filled with strange, opaque water that cast its own light, sat before them, still as a mirror. Wendigo's deep blue coat seemed to soak into the darkness and shadow, away from the light. Regale watched him with a blank expression, feeling neither uneasy or comfortable, knowing that soon Wendigo would prove his loyalty to the Lowlord. Regale saw the determination, the stubbornness below the stoic eyes of the other stallion - a stallion knowing what his destiny held. A dangerous piece of knowledge.

Slowly, his breathing began to grow more shallow, his eyes glossing over as if in a trance. "You ask if I believe the lowlord to be real." he stated plainly after some time, his voice startling Regale slightly. "I will show you what I believe." Taking a step forward into the pool, Wendigo felt the freezing coldness of the water seep up his leg, though he was only fetlock-deep. The water rippled, almost dancing, the shadows cast on the surface seemingly forming an image: an image of fire and smoke. An image of Hannibal himself, in Wendigo's reflection, staring through his eyes into the blue stallion's soul. He felt as if there was a grip on his throat, or perhaps his heart, slowing it's beating to a deathly slowness. Hannibal spoke to him then, reminding him of his mission, his task. He must not forget. He had not forgotten.

Hannibal did not only exist in his own body; he existed in the bodies and minds of those who followed him. Consumed them -- consumed him Wendigo did not know how much time had passed before he jolted awake from his dream-vision; but when he turned, Regale had gone, leaving Wendigo in his sanctuary of darkness.
(602 words)

--
STATS:

602 words + Extra character (+5)
Fullbody +3
Shading +1
Extra Character +2
Background +3
Depicting Hannibal in Drawing +3 strength

Total: 17

7640 | The Wendigo
7640 The Wendigo | RQ Tracker
Level 1
7640 the Wendigo | RQ Lvl 1| Meeting
7640 the Wendigo | RQ Lvl 1| Home
7640 the Wendigo | RQ Lvl 1| Greenhorn
Level 1 Scavenger
Level 2
7640 the Wendigo | RQ Lvl 2 | Good Genes
7640 the Wendigo | RQ Lvl 2 | Over

Description
|Regale's Quests | Level 2 | Folklore or Fantasy
You ever get those drawings that you have a VISION for, and you start drawing it and it just flops
thats what this is :/ I was so excited to finish it but as time went on I disliked it more and more so I kinda rushed to the finish just to get it over with. Maybe I'll take a crack at it another time!

Folklore or Fantasy - With a hopefully full belly, your Ballator turns their mind to thoughts of stories they’ve heard; stories of mighty battles for all the realms, of gods and goddesses being reborn. What does your Ballator believe about the High and Lowlords? Do they believe in them all, only a few, or not at all? Depict your character any way you like for this challenge.

--

At last, a quest worthy of his time.
Regale wanted to know what he, the Priest, thought of the highlords and lowlords and those who had been lost to time? He would show the blue-horned stallion just how real he thought them to be.
Annoyingly, Regale had followed him here, to the Charred Plains. The Plains still smelled of ash, and only a scant few plants had dared grow in the burnt valley where the highlords had touched the earth in the War of the Realms. Wendigo had led Regale up to the cave, still smelling of death and rot, where Hannibal and his Legion had crafted and sipped the vile bloodfire potion that awoke the darkness inside those who tasted the foul, grease-ridden liquid in the hollow of the cave floor. Wendigo had been one of those, so long ago, to drink of it's power. Or perhaps the potion had no power at all; that was Hannibal's to know.

Regale looked around at the mouth of the cave, his nose wrinkling at the thick, pungent odor that hung heavily in the air. "I have never been to this place." He mumbled, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of what might have occurred here. He looked at the floor of the cave, cut up and shattered from many Legion's hooves clattering across this threshold on the day of the Battle. Dark stains, of which he could only imagine were blood, lay swathed across the floor and walls, and some bone and fur lay abandoned in it's recesses. Regale felt a pang of sadness for all the lives lost on that day, but he could not dwell on the horrors.

Wendigo continued down the long tunnel, his hoofbeats echoing as he went. Soon, his echos were joined by Regale's some distance behind, and the two traveled to the heart of the cave. A blue-green pool, filled with strange, opaque water that cast its own light, sat before them, still as a mirror. Wendigo's deep blue coat seemed to soak into the darkness and shadow, away from the light. Regale watched him with a blank expression, feeling neither uneasy or comfortable, knowing that soon Wendigo would prove his loyalty to the Lowlord. Regale saw the determination, the stubbornness below the stoic eyes of the other stallion - a stallion knowing what his destiny held. A dangerous piece of knowledge.

Slowly, his breathing began to grow more shallow, his eyes glossing over as if in a trance. "You ask if I believe the lowlord to be real." he stated plainly after some time, his voice startling Regale slightly. "I will show you what I believe." Taking a step forward into the pool, Wendigo felt the freezing coldness of the water seep up his leg, though he was only fetlock-deep. The water rippled, almost dancing, the shadows cast on the surface seemingly forming an image: an image of fire and smoke. An image of Hannibal himself, in Wendigo's reflection, staring through his eyes into the blue stallion's soul. He felt as if there was a grip on his throat, or perhaps his heart, slowing it's beating to a deathly slowness. Hannibal spoke to him then, reminding him of his mission, his task. He must not forget. He had not forgotten.

Hannibal did not only exist in his own body; he existed in the bodies and minds of those who followed him. Consumed them -- consumed him Wendigo did not know how much time had passed before he jolted awake from his dream-vision; but when he turned, Regale had gone, leaving Wendigo in his sanctuary of darkness.
(602 words)

--
STATS:

602 words + Extra character (+5)
Fullbody +3
Shading +1
Extra Character +2
Background +3
Depicting Hannibal in Drawing +3 strength

Total: 17

7640 | The Wendigo
7640 The Wendigo | RQ Tracker
Level 1
7640 the Wendigo | RQ Lvl 1| Meeting
7640 the Wendigo | RQ Lvl 1| Home
7640 the Wendigo | RQ Lvl 1| Greenhorn
Level 1 Scavenger
Level 2
7640 the Wendigo | RQ Lvl 2 | Good Genes
7640 the Wendigo | RQ Lvl 2 | Over