Post by Epidemic Admin on Jun 17, 2008 20:28:38 GMT -5
P L O T ; ;
[/size]A long time ago, when the world was still young,
All was quiet and calm, just the rocks and the sun.
Then came a beat that was steady and strong,
Soon the music was born and the dance was begun.
All was quiet and calm, just the rocks and the sun.
Then came a beat that was steady and strong,
Soon the music was born and the dance was begun.
As soon as time is born, there is life. Where this is life, there is also sickness. This sickness could be a simple cough, it could be terminal, you may never know. As far as the eye could see, there were humans, everywhere. They obscured the top ranking of the totem pole; they would not get off their high horses. These ruthless beings mistreated the equines, though some were kind and gentle.
The equines turned wild and escaped the human population, hiding in every crevice they could find. All the wild horses welcomed the previously tamed brethren with warm hearts. There were plenty of differences between them, there moods and alliances, but they pushed it past them in an effort to keep roaming wild.
Currently the human world was turning upside down. The humans began to be enveloped in a horrid sickness. This sickness was like no other; when you first contracted it, you felt as if you had allergies. Then, when you thought it had passed, it became much worse; the humans would loose their circulation and die. None knew who was the Typhoid Mary handing out this loathsome epidemic, but all knew they mustn’t contract it.
After the population of humans began to dwindle to the mere 100’s, the equines flew to the top of the totem pole. It was the humans turn to live like wild creatures, inhabiting tiny caves, roaming the wilderness. For decades, nothing was severely wrong with the world of Zancarr. The equines had split into four groups; Lights, Neutrals, Darks, Loners.
Dance while the music sings to you,
Dance while the music sings to you,
Day has come, there’s much to do;
Join in the dance.
These groups clashed with each other, of course. In the dead of winter, an equine became viciously sick. It was like nothing they had ever seen before. It was such a strange being that had taken place of Allura. All came from far and wide, seeing the pitiful Allura, watching her misery, trying to find what had caused this. But none could remember the downfall of the human race, humans were just myths.
Epidemics begin to adapt to the predecessor of what had been wiped out. The equines were next. The sickness was adapting to the horses, Allura was the test subject, the futile palomino mare, struggling for her life. If any were to come in contact with the mare, they would become the next in this horrible chain of sickness. Of course, equines are fused with natural born curiosity; the epidemic was relying on this poisonous fact.
The epidemic soon spread, though none could find the source. This Typhoid Mary was nowhere to be found. There were whispers of it being Allura, rising from her early grave. Of course, none had seen the golden mare so this could not be possible, could it?
The equine population began to disappear, falling prey to the newly adapted epidemic. Rumors were spreading about a few that had survived through this horrible cursing. All were seeking out these supposed beings, trying to find the secret, though falling prey along the way. These equines, these beings, they were not fictional in fact. They were Immortal.
As time began to pass, the population began to come down to the 50’s, everyone knew for a fact about the Immortals. There were three of them, one for each alliance; Allura, Calista and Kavoris. Each Immortal had stumbled upon an item, each item different. These sacred objects were the source of power, the source of their lives.
Allura, being the first to go through the plague was pitied, she was handed many objects that were thought to help her. Yet, only one made her amazed by the beauty of it. A cog shell. This shell was like any other, pure white, delicate. It captivated her so, took her withering spirit. From that day on she was Immortal, finding herself in her prime always.
Calista, a dark lonely mare wandered on the edges of old deserted mountainsides, hoping for something to come along. On the mountainside of Astasia she came across a forlorn volcanic shone. In her eyes, it shone brightly, nothing else compared to its light. She gathered it up and hid it, finding herself in her prime as well; the sickness was not a bother to her.
Kavoris, a neutral stag had always been captivated by the myths of humans. He began to follow any sign of them foolishly; he was extremely gullible for this fact. All used to taunt him and tell him where to go, though soon he could not find his way back. Stumbling upon nothing and venturing toward a dim future. He began to grow old a weary from his long treks, forever saddened at his loss of life, why had he wasted it following a myth? A few days into his depressed days, he stumbled across a horse made of clay. This clay figure, it was made by the humans, it had to be. He would protect it with his life, though little did he know it was his life it was protecting.
Dance and sing calmly,
Dance and sing loudly,
Dance and sing in peace and unity,
Dance and sing.
These Immortals saved what they could of the equine race. Only a few had survived the tragedy. Decades later this race began to blossom once again, regaining their high status on the totem pole. Little did they know, there was a fourth Immortal, the Typhoid Mary. He was the one who had spread the horrendous disease. Rhetoric was what he answered, what he was cursed.
But, the three Immortals began to live together, recoiling from the masses of horses. When they all thought their time was nearing to an end, they began to seek out new equines to take their places. All three soon found these special beings and gave them each their power source. Arella, Ignautia and Galileo took their positions warily.
Now time passes on, still Rhetoric remains in hiding, seeking the chance to begin his destructive crusade once again. Rhetoric and his dead raven travel far and wide, trying to find the new Immortals. Once located, he will spy, finding his opportune chance. The dead raven he travels with is his power source, even though he can't recall how he found it. All he knows is it's purpose, which in turn is his.
What Rhetoric doesn't know is that there is a Sacred Flower that blooms during the winter, and it can cure any with the Epidemic. Yet, this special plant can't cure anything else. It never blossoms in the same area, it changes every year then when the time comes, it will come back once again. Blooming under the winter moon, for the sun never touches it, the flower is a deadly shade of midnight purple. From a glance it does look like a poisonous plant, but one can't be sure.[/center][/size]
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