#The Dawn Rider

[badmovieihave]

Bad movie I have John Wayne part One of Two it has The Dawn Rider 1935, The Desert Trail 1935, The Lucky Texan 1934, Neath Arizona Skies 1934,Rainbow Valley 1935, The Trail Beyond 1934, Texas Terror 1935, The Star Packer 1934, Paradise Canyon 1935, and Riders of Destiny 1933

[httyd-art-requests]

Heya! I wasn't sure if this was a legal request since it wasnt listed in your bio, but it is an official httyd video game

I'd love to see the goofy guy Patch from dawn of new riders! Chimeragons really made one appearance, became way too op, and then disappeared into obscurity. But look at the guy...he so ugly and goofy I love him

Your art is gorgeous btw!

( @yuendelahoya )

So funny story. I watched a playthrough of this game when it first came out in 2019, and it's been on my wish list ever since (mostly because of the flight mechanics lol) And now that I found these asks in my inbox again, I checked the Nintendo Store just in case, and it had a 55% discount??? So I got the game and spent the last 2 days playing it and now I'm a changed man (as of posting this, the discount lasts for 2 more days!)

Dragon #125 - MLM Patch (and Scribbler)

I hope they're doing well, wherever they are...

More thoughts and spoilers for the game under the cut!

I made Patch MLM colored instead of some other random Chimeragon, because the game has shown us that he can change colors with every rebirth, which I think is pretty neat :) It also explains why neither Scribbler nor Eir recognize Patch, even after he grows to be a Broadwing and then a Titanwing- if he changes his colors every time he hatches again, then yeah, no wonder they believed there's more than one Chimeragon

I knew what the big twist was going to be at the end because of the playthrough, but MAN does this game not hold its punches. The writers really asked "How can we elevate the Best Friends Forever thing to a whole new level?" and then made Scribbler witness the death and rebirth of his best friend, and now I have to draw these guys with literal tears in my eyes 👍

The sentiment that their friendship literally transcends life and death is so meaningful to me. Patch will continue to die and resurrect, and Scribbler will be there every time to welcome him and forge their bond all over again. The mystery of Scribbler's past, his involvement with Grimmel, and the open ending leave so much room for speculation and theorizing and it's just so incredibly up my alley, it's like it was made in a lab for me lol

This game ended up being a lot darker than I was expecting, but it was honestly so refreshing. The mechanics are simple enough for younger kids to learn, and the artstyle is very evidently targeted at kids as well, but some of the dialogue and the entire theme of death and inevitable loss feels surprisingly mature in contrast. They make you go to Vanaheim and hold a burial for Patch before he resurrects, literally what other kids' game does that?? /pos

Anyways play this game, it's a short and sweet little self-contained adventure, which accomplishes the one task it set out to accomplish: making me cry, specifically

[dark-rider-pr]

Zombie Apocalypse: Sabine Redesign

[stable-gremlin]

Riders of Fallen Dawn Introduction

It wasn't their intention to become the saviours of the world.

The Soul Riders were gone, the druids were tight lip and magic was being eaten alive. Literally. The Dark Riders need the Light Ceremony Book to bring back their lord but, like the four champions of Aideen, it had disappeared. Unable to use their magic to fight back and strung out between finding the Book and breaking Erissa free...

What are you going to do? Are you going to help the Dark Rider's with their quests or are you just trying to survive?

From September 28th to November 31st, you can choose how you assist the Dark Riders.

I know SSO prompt month is in October (hence the extended time) and from September to October, I'll be dropping some lore tidbits for y'all to go crazy with. October, I'll be writing fic with the SSO prompts and expanding the lore! Then, November...it's a free for all, baby! Have fun! Get creative! Use #Riders-of-Fallen-Dawn when you post!

OC's are welcom, Reader inserts are welcome, everything is welcome. Dark Rider re-designs dropping on the 28th so be ready to see how Sabine, Katja and Jay will be fairing in a zombie apocalypse, unable to use their magic.

[bellassoblr]

the girlies horses!! One tags along while the other fights back.

[coravonblyssen]

She's stuck in Jarlaheim.

Wants to go back home to Valedale or to Jorvik City to see her girlfriend again, she also hopes to find the reincarnate of Rosey one day

Rosey got infected and passed away, now Faer is her most trusted horse. She used to be a hunter but now she mostly takes care of the horses, she also doesn't want to lose another loved horse and Faer isn't as used to danger like Rosey was.

Juno, her cat, just wanders around the stables as usual.

___________________

I didn't write a lot of lore for her, but maybe I'll add to this later if i come up with something

[askefrueee3]

Joining the Riders of the Fallen Dawn OC event, I present to you my first OC redesigned for it.

Riders of the Fallen Dawn event by @dark-rider-pr

Gerda

Before the outbreak, she used to be the champion of Pine Hill Stables, with her career steadily progressing after winning the Decker's Horse Show. After Sands decided to form the Dino Valley community, Gerda rushes to organize a proper move of the horses and resources from the PH stables on his order. Quite quickly she becomes one of the main technicians of the Valley, and definitely one of the most universally skilled. She is close with Sands, so often she is one of the first to know newest orders or even inform him of the issues at the base. Some of her choices may seem frivolous at first, but ultimately turn out quite insightful, for example she makes sure all possible horse blankets are stocked in numbers as high as possible, which later proves useful in the harsh climate of the valley, especially since they can also be repurposed to keep not only horses, but also people, warm. As for now, she is concerned, or simply anxious, about the possibility of water becoming infected, either by Silversong River floating into the DV water unclear, or by the burials of executed infected at the base. Due to more complicated lore reasons (which I will highlight in future post soon!), she wields some fragmentarised Vala magic/ energy, thus to ensure safety, she had to give up all her magic since the outbreak. As with other magic users, this stirs up illness in her body- which leads to constant, at first, cold, then, pneumonia- like symptoms and lacking blood flow to hands and feet. (which turn her skin slightly blueish there - mirroring Vala's looks) She tries to completely hide her illness from anyone, at this point, and continues her duties. She hides her weakness especially well from Sands. Gerda can be found most often by accompanied by at least one of her two horses- Ares and Sunrise Glory. Feel free to ask for her if you need any help with your horses, especially if you return to the Dino Valley from the outside world :DDD

[sso-montana]

Aideen's Curse

here a visual representation of the zombie virus for the AU event by @dark-rider-pr (the written guide is going to be posted by them)

again thank you so so much for allowing me to do this, it was a lot of fun drawing that and I hope everyone likes it ヾ(・ω・*)

[revengehorse]

no idea if i did this right, but:

Chrys Doe

a redesign for RoFD: a SSO zombie apocalypse AU

- - - - -

Not player character/MC Chrys (she doesn’t/didn’t have powers in this)

Chrys lived in Cape West before the outbreak, but quickly fled to the mountain close by. She isn’t a part of a community, but she occasionally interacts with/helps other communities. Her Shire horse Solis helps her to quickly escape from approaching hordes.

@dark-rider-pr

[ciarre]

Frieren Emblem: Radiant Dawn

[paigeswiftsea]

hi guys i decided to stop being a pussy and upload my writing for riders of fallen dawn (:

content warning: graphic depictions of violence and death, cursing, angsty??

wc: 2.9k

"Fuck," Blaire cursed under her breath, smacking the side of her head as her hearing aid sputtered again. The static crackled briefly before fading into silence, signaling its inevitable end. She had known for days that it was going to give out soon—she’d pushed it far beyond its limits. But out here, every piece of equipment was a lifeline, and she couldn’t afford to let it go. Not yet.

Sitting up from her resting spot beneath the twisted remains of an old oak tree, she wiped the dirt off her jacket, though she knew it was a pointless gesture. Filth was a constant companion now. It clung to her clothes, her skin, and her soul. There was no time for showers—there hadn’t been for months. The luxury of a bath was a risk she couldn’t take. The lakes and rivers weren’t safe, and the ocean wasn’t an option either. People had become scavengers. Even a moment of distraction, like bathing, could mean losing her supplies or worse—losing her life.

Blaire winced as she stretched her stiff limbs, groaning softly as her muscles protested. She’d been holed up in the same spot for five days now, far longer than she usually stayed anywhere. It was time to move again. The urge to keep moving, to stay ahead of the dangers that lurked in every shadow, gnawed at her. She couldn’t risk getting too comfortable. Comfort was a thing of the past.

Glancing at the horizon, she noted how the light was fading into the dull gray of dusk. The days in Jorvik seemed shorter now, time bleeding together in a haze of survival. She grabbed her backpack, its weight reassuring as she slung it over her shoulder. The familiar clink of supplies inside was a small comfort in an otherwise chaotic world.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Blaire had always envisioned her life at the stables, her days filled with the familiar rhythm of caring for the horses, of teaching new riders, of sunsets over the peaceful Moorland hills. But when the infection hit, everything had crumbled faster than she could have imagined.

She hadn’t planned to be alone, but that’s how it had turned out. Cities and towns had fallen within days, the infected spreading like wildfire, tearing through everything and everyone. When the chaos reached Jorvik, Blaire had fled Moorland Stables. Populated places became death traps, and her instincts had told her to run—to survive.

While most had flocked to Fort Pinta, now fortified into an actual stronghold, Blaire made a different choice. She hadn’t wanted to depend on anyone else, and in a world where survival meant looking out for yourself first, she couldn’t afford the weight of someone else’s life. So, she’d taken Storm, her loyal horse, and left behind the only semblance of home she’d ever known.

Storm had saved her life more times than she could count. His agility, his speed—they were her only real advantages out here. Together, they moved across the ever-dangerous landscape of Jorvik, always on the lookout for supplies and avoiding the growing hordes of infected that wandered through the hills and forests. And, of course, they avoided other survivors. Blaire had learned quickly that people were often more dangerous than the undead.

The world was a wasteland now, and every day was a fight to stay alive. Her hearing aid’s battery was nearly dead, and without it, the world would fall into a muffled, distorted quiet—dangerous in a place where sound could mean the difference between life and death. She needed to find another one, but that wasn’t exactly easy. She let out a long sigh, brushing her hand over her short-cropped hair, now darker after months without maintenance. Its natural curls were starting to come back, unruly and wild, but manageable enough to keep tied up out of her face.

Her wrist throbbed slightly as she adjusted the wrap she wore for support. She’d injured it months ago in a bad fall, and the endless travel, harsh weather, and constant physical strain had never allowed it to heal properly. The bandage was as much a mental reassurance as it was physical, reminding her to take things slow when her body screamed at her to stop altogether.

Glancing down, Blaire checked the dagger she kept tucked into her boot, one of the few weapons she had left. It wasn’t much, but it had been with her through countless close encounters—human and infected alike. Her cargo pants were full, as always, packed with whatever she could scavenge: food, tools, medical supplies. Whatever she couldn’t fit in her bag went in the pockets, her hands often brushing against the comforting bulk of the knife as she moved.

The forest around her was silent now, the distant moans of the infected barely audible on the wind. It wasn’t safe here anymore. It never really had been, but the stillness around her told her it was time to go. She clicked her tongue, a soft signal, and soon Storm appeared through the trees, his dark coat blending with the shadows of the encroaching night.

"Another night on the move, boy," she murmured, patting his neck as she grabbed the reins. His breath huffed in response, a cloud of warmth in the cool evening air.

Blaire knew this life couldn’t go on forever. Supplies were running low, and each day brought new dangers. But for now, it was just her and Storm against the world. She gave one last glance at the desolate landscape behind her before nudging him forward, their footsteps lost in the thick silence of the forest.

Survival was all she had left, and she'd keep moving until there was nothing left to fight for.

As Blaire made her way through the dense woods of Firgrove Mountains, her steps were cautious, her eyes darting around the rugged terrain for signs of life—or death. The forest was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or the creak of ancient branches. Her hearing aid sputtered in and out, frustrating her more than usual. She slapped it once, hoping the jolt would keep it alive for a few more days.

"Damn it," she cursed under her breath. She knew the hearing aid wouldn’t last much longer, and with everything else she had to worry about, this was one more thing that weighed on her.

The ache in her limbs reminded her that she had been on the move for days now. Her legs felt like lead, and every muscle screamed for rest. When she spotted the entrance to a cave nestled between the jagged cliffs of Firgrove, a sense of relief washed over her. A cave would at least offer shelter from the biting cold and a place to regroup. As she approached, she unsheathed the dagger from her boot—one of the few weapons she had left that could truly help her.

Inside, the cave was dark, but that didn’t bother her much. Blaire’s night vision had become almost second nature after months of surviving in the wild. She moved cautiously, pressing her back against the wall and straining to hear beyond the static of her dying hearing aid.

Suddenly, a sound—low and guttural—echoed through the cave. Blaire froze, her heart racing. The infected. She knew that noise well. Before she could react, something lunged at her from the shadows. A decaying hand grabbed at her vest, tearing fabric as she stumbled backward.

The infected man—no, creature—was in stage 3, fully turned. Its once-human eyes were now glassy, and its skin clung tightly to its bones. Blaire slashed at it with her dagger, but the zombie barely flinched. It was fast for something that was supposed to be dead.

Thinking quickly, she ducked to avoid its grasp, slicing at the creature’s head as she rolled across the floor of the cave. It snarled, but the attack wasn’t enough to stop it. Blaire scrambled to her feet and kicked hard, sending the infected stumbling backward into the cave wall. She took the opportunity to plunge her dagger into its skull. The sickening sound of cracking bone echoed through the cavern as the zombie collapsed, finally still.

Panting heavily, Blaire wiped the blood from her blade on her cargos. Her hands trembled as she caught her breath, the rush of adrenaline slowly fading.

She knew this cave wouldn’t be safe anymore. The noise would have attracted others. Gathering her supplies, Blaire packed quickly, her mind racing. She had heard about the virus—the cursed plague born from the ancient magic of Jorvik. It consumed magic first, but in its absence, it would devour anything that moved. If she lingered, more would come, and they wouldn’t all be slow.

She mounted Storm, the horse stamping the ground, sensing her unease. With a soft pat on Storm's neck, she whispered, "Let’s get out of here."

The world had turned into a hellish landscape, and the cursed infected roamed the land like predators, waiting for the next meal. Blaire had seen the stages of infection, watched as friends were consumed by the virus.

With Storm beneath her and her supplies secure, Blaire urged the horse onward. She knew she had to keep moving, away from the cave, away from the infected. Surviving wasn’t about winning; it was about staying one step ahead of death.

As they moved through the mountains, she couldn’t help but glance behind her, knowing that the apocalypse had brought more than just ruin—it had brought something much worse. Something she might never escape.

Blaire and Storm pressed forward through the dense forest of the Firgrove Mountains, the air thick with tension. The path ahead was uneven and scattered with debris, but Storm’s hooves were steady, navigating the rocky terrain with a grace that only a Soul Steed could possess. Blaire’s mind raced, her thoughts flickering between survival strategies and the terrifying reality of what was chasing her.

The infected had evolved—becoming faster, more aggressive. She couldn’t stay in one place for long without risking an encounter like the one she’d just escaped. Every second counted. She had to find a safe route out of the mountains, or at least somewhere defensible where she could figure out her next move.

As they reached a small clearing, Blaire pulled Storm to a stop. She needed to think, to reassess her options. The horizon was painted with the fading colors of sunset, casting an ominous glow over the landscape. The mountains, once majestic, now felt like a prison of rock and shadow. She couldn’t help but wonder how long she could keep this up—how long before she, too, succumbed to the curse that had ravaged the land.

Suddenly, a distant scream echoed through the valley.

Blaire tensed, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of her dagger. She scanned the area, listening intently, but all she could hear was the faint static from her malfunctioning hearing aid. She adjusted it, hoping to catch any signs of movement, but the device sputtered and failed once again. Frustrated, she yanked it out, tossing it aside. She could no longer afford to rely on broken technology.

The scream had come from somewhere further ahead—maybe even down the mountain path. Was it another survivor? Or worse, someone who was already in the early stages of infection? Either way, Blaire felt a pull to investigate. If someone was still alive, they could have information or supplies, and in a world as broken as this, any help was worth the risk.

She guided Storm slowly toward the direction of the scream, every muscle in her body on high alert. As they descended, the terrain became steeper, the trees closing in like a wall of twisted limbs. Blaire’s instincts screamed at her to turn back, but something pushed her onward.

After several tense minutes, they emerged from the thick woods to find a narrow gorge. At the bottom of the gorge, the remnants of what had once been a small caravan lay scattered—wagons overturned, supplies strewn across the ground, and no sign of life. Blaire dismounted, her breath catching in her throat as she approached the wreckage. Her hand tightened around her dagger.

As she knelt beside one of the wagons, examining the broken supplies, she noticed fresh blood smeared across the ground. The realization hit her hard: the scream she’d heard was likely the final moments of someone’s life.

Suddenly, a noise—a faint shuffle of movement from behind one of the overturned carts. Blaire sprang to her feet, dagger in hand, as a figure staggered into view. It was a young woman, covered in dirt and blood, her eyes wild with fear. Blaire immediately recognized the telltale signs: purple veins creeping up the woman’s neck, the shallow breaths, the glossy sheen of sweat. Stage 1.

“No… stay back!” the woman cried, stumbling over her own feet as she tried to flee, her voice weak and broken.

Blaire approached cautiously, lowering her dagger slightly but keeping her distance. “You’re infected,” she said softly. It wasn’t a question. She could see it—how the curse had already begun its work. The woman’s bite wound was on her arm, the flesh already blackened around the edges. She was past saving.

“I— I don’t want to die like this,” the woman whispered, tears streaming down her face. “Please… you have to end it before it’s too late.”

Blaire’s chest tightened. She had seen this before, too many times. The fear in the woman’s eyes, the desperation to escape the inevitable. She wanted to refuse, to say no, but she knew what would happen if she left the woman to turn.

Without a word, Blaire nodded, her jaw clenched as she steeled herself. She stepped forward, lifting her dagger. The woman closed her eyes, trembling as she waited for the end. Blaire’s heart pounded in her ears, her pulse quickening as she took one last breath and brought the blade down.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Blaire wiped her blade on her sleeve, her hands shaking as she stepped away from the body. There was no time to dwell on it—no time to let the weight of her actions sink in. She had to keep moving. The infected would smell the blood soon, and they would come.

Mounting Storm once again, Blaire turned away from the gorge, the darkness closing in around her. She pushed onward, riding faster now, her mind reeling from what she’d just done. It never got easier—taking a life, even to save someone from a fate worse than death.

Mounting Storm once again, Blaire turned away from the gorge, the darkness closing in around her. She pushed onward, urging Storm to pick up speed, her mind spinning with the weight of what she’d just done. Taking a life, even in mercy, never got easier. Yet it was part of the harsh reality she now faced daily.

After riding for what felt like hours, Blaire and Storm came upon a small clearing, sparsely dotted with twisted, darkened trees. The area seemed deserted, its silence an eerie comfort. After scouting the perimeter and deciding it was safe enough, Blaire dismounted, carefully removing the gear from Storm’s back. She gave him a gentle pat, whispering soothing words as he began to graze on the sparse patches of grass. At least he could find some semblance of peace, even if it was temporary.

Blaire debated starting a fire, but there wasn’t much food left in her pack—just a few stale pieces of bread and a canteen that was barely a quarter full. The risk of attracting the infected outweighed the small comfort of warmth. Instead, she settled on a different plan. She needed sleep, even if only a few hours, but couldn’t afford to be defenseless on the ground.

With practiced efficiency, she climbed up one of the thicker trees, using the low branches to haul herself up to a sturdy limb. The branch was wide enough to sit on, and she pulled a length of rope from her bag, tying herself securely against the trunk. She let out a weary sigh as she adjusted her position, leaning back against the rough bark. Her muscles ached, and exhaustion pressed heavily on her.

From her perch, Blaire had a decent view of the clearing and a bit of the surrounding forest, allowing her to watch for any movement below. She scanned the shadows, her eyes sharp for any hint of the undead. But tonight, it seemed, she was alone. A rare blessing.

She wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her jacket tighter as the chill of the night set in. Her thoughts drifted as she let her eyes close briefly, her mind flickering back to what life was like before the curse took over. Memories of bustling days at Moorland Stables, the laughter of friends, and the gentle warmth of sunrise were ghosts now, haunting her with what she’d lost.

Sleep claimed her in short, restless intervals, broken by every rustle of the wind or snap of a branch. The peace she craved was elusive, chased away by the lingering fear of an attack. She knew better than to expect real rest, but up there in the tree, with Storm grazing below and the stars faintly visible through the gaps in the leaves, she allowed herself a sliver of hope—a hope that, somewhere out there, a cure might exist or that someday, this nightmare might end.

Until then, she would continue her lonely journey through the apocalypse, fighting each day to survive. And with her loyal horse by her side, maybe she’d find a reason to believe that life, despite the horrors around her, was still worth clinging to.

[icebluecyanide]

The Dawns Are Quiet Here (Alex & Yassen, T, 2.6k)

The boy’s fingers feel cool to the touch, but they cling to Yassen, desperate for any sort of comfort, even one offered by a hitman who until minutes ago was working on the opposite side.

When Alex is left fatally injured after a mission, Yassen offers what comfort he can.

Written for the @alexriderbingo prompt: Character Death.

[alinasteelcrest]

Alina's been wandering on her own for a few months now.

Well, "on her own" isn't exactly accurate- She has her horse and his dog for companions, and they've been good ones. She's not sure she'd have made it this far without them.

She dearly misses the rest of their family that they had to leave behind. It was for the best, but that doesn't make it any easier. All she can hope is that, one day, this will all be over, and she and Shoji will get to see his foals again.

And if there's no sign of this apocalypse ending, or even getting easier... maybe she'll go home, anyway.

Last time anyone saw her, she was headed for the Wildwoods. Maybe she made it, or maybe she turned around and headed somewhere else. Who's to say?

[dark-rider-pr]

Zombie Apocalypse AU: Katja Redesign

[corneliafogwell]

Most importantly: @stable-gremlin made the sheet for me (I've only written the lore tidbits) and I genuinely could not be happier🥹 Cornelia looks just how I imagined and what I had in mind when I wrote with her. Thank you SO SO much and much love to you 🫶🫶🫶

Cornelia Fogwell

Ever since she reawakened as a vampire, she's been part of the Valley Community. As a Valedale druid surviving ("surviving" haha), Cornelia became a technician, and often helps with patrols around the Dino Valley and taking care of injured riding parties. That is where she, still being a vampire after all, also feeds, mostly on one deadly injured person, while healing other deadly injured and helping them survive, so that in total, more people survive than they would without her presence.

Cornelia often feels guilty about her doings. She keeps two books, one specific to her vampire information, and the second a collection of notes to every day where she knew if something and what happened.

She was originally a passionate birder working for the wildlife preservation centre in Hollow Woods. As a druid Cornelia possesses healing magic which is the only thing that can soothe her guilt when she uses it.

@dark-rider-pr

[bellassoblr]

Bella, the once successful druid honed in to the sun circles magic, was at first stranded in Golden Hills. Well, stranded isn't really the right word, her home was there. She helped anywhere she could, becoming one of the more reliable people in the community, despite her worsening mood and overall declining health. And so, one day, she simply vanished from the village. Now she travels alone, save for her steed, Seto. She's since ceased suppressing her magical nature, and refuses to hide it again. While her physical health recovered, her mental state seems to be far gone, seeing herself as an "executioner," attacking quite literally everything she comes across, zombie or not. It's almost like she believes she can single-handedly bring this apocalypse to an end. Some believe she stopped being Bella a long time ago, some argue she was turned all those weeks ago and only has a sliver of her ghost guiding the shell of who she was, some believe she's a grim reaper. Truth is, she's just lost her mind. It's a miracle she's still standing.

Rowan is a little less extreme. She was on a business trip to Jorvik Stables during the initial outbreak, and is therefore stationed in Jarlaheim. As she used to work with Farah in crafting, and had started to learn the basics of the moon circle, they became responsible for gathering materials and crafting resources. Normally, Rowan is a nervous wreck, but their sense of duty and desperate need to be helpful is keeping their mind in check. Somewhat, at least. They'll push herself to leave the safety of the walls to help the community. She'll also happily skip the next patrol by mending clothes and reinforcing defenses. At first she just wanted to survive. Then she wanted to help. Now, they just want this madness to end. Lately, as Jarlaheims resources are dwindling, they've been thinking of leaving the community and travelling to the Dark Riders in the Valley, to help them figure out a way to find a cure, or anything, to make everything go back to normal. She just wants things to go back to normal.

am i late out? maybe. did i want to do this anyway? yeah.