crawl through the darkness
(log-in area)Avalon was born long ago, founded under the name of Spirit, King of Gods. Those who grew under his reign became legends of their own accord, living their lives in their time nearly Gods themselves; now that nearly two hundred years have past since the death of the youngest of the deities, the legends have become something much more – the rule under a saintly memoriam of their descendants.
It is unknown when the mortal souls of the legends of Avalon became Gods to the civilians of the kingdom, but it has been this way for nearly one hundred years; the children of Spirit serve their Gods dutifully, marching with their patrons upon their hearts. The once living horses are no longer horses, but titans, saints, gods; and this is their playground.
The legends of the great ones thrive in the heart of this ancient place, the horses living here direct lineage of the ones they worship, though the bloodlines have long been lost; tongues pass the names with the reverence of Christ, and thus religion has filled the heart of every inhabitant in the kingdom. For religion, the sides of Dark and Light have been cast aside; it is now a choice of which God you love the most.
The ancient Druids, each uncountable in age, speak of the Gods with knowledge that only age can give them; they lived while the Titans walked, and they reside in the holy hallows that no longer wear even the dust of the kings of time. The Druids know what God to pray to for good luck, for war, for love – and the King decides which God is the lord of his era.
And so the kingdom has done for decades; but now, something strange is happening in Avalon. Someone has really pissed off the martyrs.
Children are being born with horrible mutations; they are crippled, deformed, and hideous. They grow much faster than the other foals, reaching adult size in weeks, and they all have some strange talent. Word is traveling that these mutants can run faster than wind, can topple trees with their voices; word is traveling that the kingdom is under terrible threat.
So the King is troubled, and so the Druid’s are troubled; the overlords are in disarray. Laws are being passed to kill any mare that shows signs of mutant birth; pregnant mares are being held in camps until they foal to insure that not a single mutant escapes. The infected mares are slaughtered if they are discovered.
However, some escape. The compassion of those around them allow them to hide and to live; underground efforts seek to help even the blasphemous children they birth. There is also an undercurrent of gossip that the King and overlords are harboring mutant slaves, training an army that could obliterate any threat that confronts them. Everyone is afraid.
You must choose where you will walk in this place; will you choose to hunt the mutants, or to save them? Pray or disregard all that the Gods promise? It is up to you – everyone has a place here, some are just less welcome than others.