#riders of fallen dawn

[dark-rider-pr]

Had an idea for this years sso oc event and it might be ran similarly to art fight…just as an idea just to get some more community interactions with one another but then a friend pointed out how dead ssoblr is atm

Planning now so I can get plot done entirely now unlike last year where I did everything in a month and haven’t finished lmfao uhhhhh yeah that was stupid my bad

The other option is that we work as group almost on a zine of sorts. No money involved maybe just a pdf book we all worked on together that follows a loose storyline and it’s all our noggins in one place

The theme would be different for sure think…maybe 500 or 700 years in the past with a hint of fantasy horror

So could I get an interest check?

[highhorsegirl]

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

[butterfly-headquarters]

Undead

Word Count: 4k Rating: Mature Warnings: explicit descriptions of violence, lots of violence, like seriously, blood, injury, attempted cannibalism ?, the horrors of turning into a vampire, gremlin I am sorry for doing this to Sabine

@dark-rider-pr

Montana knew this had been her idea. She was the one who had come up to Sabine with the proposal, the idea of being the one to give her the potion after she turned. Was she still mad at the Dark Rider for attacking her back then? Yeah. Was she still furious about the claw marks that now covered the lower half of her face? Fucking hell she was. If it hadn’t been for doctor Eiren and druid medicine who knew how long she would’ve had to deal with the wound reopening (not to mention the risk of it getting infected out in the wild).

But the memories of her first feed, the terror and realization of what she had done, of seeing Judy’s torn up body and lifeless eyes and the taste of blood in her mouth, were even more vivid. It was burned into her brain, a shiver running down her back every time she thought back to it. 

No one should have to go through that, not even someone like Sabine. Being lucid while feeding on a person was one thing, it was a whole different ordeal if you couldn’t control yourself. To be trapped in your own brain, aware of what you were doing and how you were acting, to feel your teeth and claws rip at flesh and arteries. Screaming and begging with your body to stop and still being unable to compose yourself even the tiniest bit because of the gnawing hunger and primal instincts that didn’t feel like yourself- 

Shaking her head the former blacksmith turned her focus back on to the potion brewing in the small pot in front of her. Cornelia had been kind enough to let her make a copy of the recipe that witch- Sive- had given the other vampires. The news that there was a potion, a supplement for the blood, had been the best news Montana had heard in weeks (even if her first reaction had been to be mad over the fact that all these months she could’ve just been drinking a damn potion instead of having to feed on humans). During the first four days in their little safe-space (which would not be safe at all once Sabine woke up again, it was more so to keep the outside safe from them) she had taken to stashing bottle after bottle of supplement around the circle. Always in pairs of two and a certain distance away from each other. It was the closest thing she had to a strategy; dump two bottles down Sabine’s throat and go for the next pair. Jay had explained how for Lisa, who had been in hibernation when they found her, a total of four bottles had been needed. 

“Let’s go with six. Although you better have some more ready, just to be sure.” 

They were right, of course. There was no chance in hell that Montana would be able to get six whole bottles down Sabine’s throat before she would start fighting back. The Dark Rider was already a ruthless fighter without the addition of "vampire’s first feed" feral. Bloodshed was a certainty and not because of the fact that she’d have to somehow keep the other girl somewhat still. 

Sabine had gotten infected while they were feeding Anne, Cornelia had lost two fingers to Lisa and neither of them had been alone while going up against the feral vampires. Montana had no one but her axe and anger once the Dark Rider woke up. Which was just fine for her. Not that there were many other viable options other than her; Katja and Jay were still suppressing their magic (plus Sabine was their sister), Cornelia had already been injured before. Lisa wasn’t the type of person to do something like this, there was no chance in hell Sabine would allow Florence to and Anne was Aideen-Knows-Where. This way no one else but her would have to risk getting hurt or even killed while going up against a Dark Rider.

A feral, hungry Dark-Rider-Vampire that was a foot taller than her and would be out for blood. She could almost hear Justin’s voice in her head yelling at her that ‘that’s not a plan, that’s a suicide mission!’ 

Yeah, not telling him about this had been for the best.

As the liquid inside the pot bubbled she let out a groan before turning around and looking over to where Sabine had curled up. The Rider looked exactly like a stage four zombie; eyes and cheeks were sunken in, her body nothing more than a skeleton covered by a thin layer of unnatural, purple skin. A few wefts of hair were still clinging to her skull while the rest had fallen out over the course of the past two weeks. 

It wouldn’t be long until she woke up again, until they could finally leave this damn circle. The fight that was slowly creeping closer as the minutes ticked by wasn’t what was making her restless. It wasn’t the cold or being separated from Onyx or even being stuck together with Sabine (though, granted, it wasn’t like the two of them had been able to hold much of a conversation).

But being confined to a tiny circle in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but sit around and cook what was essentially soup? That part was, perhaps, making her a little restless. (And yes, the space Jay had made for them wasn’t small per se, but after spending months out in the open having to be stuck in a single area was driving her up the invisible walls).

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

Montana had been staring at Sabine’s unmoving form for at least an hour when the first sign of life came. The growl had been low, quiet. Something that could easily be chucked up to one's imagination if it came out of nowhere. Not if that someone had spent the last few months in a constant state of survival mode with the added bonus of enhanced hearing. 

Eyes fixed on the corpse- vampire? undead person?-  lying on the other side of the circle the former blacksmith stuck her axe into the ground, the wooden handle facing towards the direction of the Dark Rider. With two bottles of potion held in one hand she started walking towards Sabine, fluffy snow crunching beneath her boots as the blizzard around her seemed to grow stronger. Despite what every fiber in her body told her she kept a slow and steady pace. Alerting the Dark Rider right at the start of their fight and risking sending her into an early rampage would only complicate things. The former blacksmith apprentice had to use the window of time she had between Sabine regaining consciousness and going feral to get as many potions as possible down the others throat. After that nothing was certain. 

Still, she had made a promise. 

Once only a few feet separated them Montana started to uncap the first of the bottles, magenta eyes never leaving the quivering, gurgling form of Sabine. The second, still closed potion was dropped in the snow before the former blacksmith apprentice rolled the Dark Rider onto her back. Her chest, all skin and bones, was heaving in slow motion. Eyes, soulless and emitting a faint glow the same color as her own irises, staring right at her. The knowledge that at some point she herself had looked like this sent a shiver down her spine.

Not wanting to waste another second Montana kneeled beside Sabine’s head, pinching her nose and pressing the bottle of supplement against her lips. Its contents quickly flowed down the other’s throat as her swallow reflex set in. The bony chest was starting to rise more frequently, more rhythmically.

‘Better hurry this up’ 

Discarding the empty bottle somewhere in the snow the former blacksmith reached for the next one. The movements were almost mechanical. Open the lid, press it against her lips. Watch out for any form of movement. With each gulp of liquid going down Sabine’s throat her heart started beating faster in anticipation of something. 

Half the potion was gone before the Dark Rider’s eyes widened. Arms and legs, albeit slow and clunky, started to move. Montana cursed under her breath. With a quick motion she shifted her position, moving one of her legs over and across Sabine’s shoulder and collarbone while the other one stayed on the snow-covered ground. Bony hands started clawing at her legs and torso as the Dark Rider started to regain more control over her limbs. Sharp collar bones dug into her shin, sending wave after wave of pain through Montana’s body.

As soon as the second potion had been downed and the bottle removed a bat-like scream tore through the air. Had she not removed her hand quickly enough it most likely would’ve met the same fate as Cornelia’s had. The struggle beneath her leg grew as the potion did what was its job, help Sabine recover. Unfortunately for Montana the other’s mind, unlike her physical strength, would only return once the feed had been completed. 

Time was running out and quicker than she had expected. 

The next batch of potions wasn’t too far away. Using Sabine’s chest as a stepping stool and causing a screech to leave the vampire's lips, which she definitely did not smirk at, no no, Montana scrambled to her feet. 

Her heart was pounding like crazy, the blood pulsing in her veins warming her up enough to no longer feel the biting cold of the blizzard around them. Only a couple more steps. Behind her Sabine was screaming.

Just as she was about to reach the bottles something sharp dug into her leg, piercing through fabric and skin. She cried out in pain before being violently pulled to the ground. Her face smashed into the cold snow, a muffled groan leaving her lips as her forehead and nose collided with the frozen soil. Quickly reaching out with one of her hands her fingertips almost brushed against one of the bottles before the distance between them grew again.

‘Shit!’  

Dirt and stones were scraping across her face as the claw on her leg dragged her backwards. Behind her the gurgling and uncanny sounds that sounded a lot like incoherent zombie blubbering grew louder. Her foot hit something solid, bone-like and Montana took it as her cue to turn the fuck around. Twisting her upper body she got a perfectly good look at one of Sabine’s hands digging into her left calf as the other was reaching for her other leg. 

“Fuck off!” With as much force as she could muster she kicked the heel of her right boot up against a bony jaw. Another kick followed, this time straight into the middle of Sabine’s face. It took two more of those before she could finally pull her leg free from the claw. 

Ignoring the stinging pain in her calf Montana decided against going for the closer potions, instead sprinting towards the direction of her axe. She couldn’t get another potion down, not without a proper weapon by her side for defense. And while the knives on her were pretty useful in certain situations they wouldn’t be of much help in this one.

Hearing the screaming behind her Montana managed to turn around just in time to evade an attack aimed directly at her face. A stretched out claw nearly grazed her cheek as Sabine’s malnourished form stumbled past her, barely managing to stay on her feet as she did so. With the Dark Rider trying to regain her balance it gave the former blacksmith apprentice enough time to raise her balled fists in anticipation, fuchsia colored flames engulfing her hands. 

As the Dark Rider turned around to face her again their face was met with a fist of fire. Two, three, four times. Each time Montana’s knuckles connected with her opponent's skull she could feel the pain sending shockwaves through her entire body. On the fifth punch Sabine finally fell backwards.

Extinguishing the flames, the former blacksmith apprentice continued her run towards her camp. Her knuckles felt like they were on fire, scratched open and bleeding from repeatedly hitting against what was essentially pure bones. There was a roar this time, guttural and angry and heading in her direction.

She really had pissed her off now.

Grabbing one of the nearest bottles and stashing it away in the pocket strapped to her thigh, Montana pulled her axe out of the ground, its metal blade glistening in the afternoon sun.

Sabine was half running, half crawling towards her like some weird cryptid-type-shit monster while screaming like a banshee. 

The smaller vampire shifted her grip on the weapon, wrapping both hands around the wooden handle as she got into position. She dropped her shoulders, eyes narrowing at the rapidly approaching form of Sabine, raising her harms and- 

There was a loud clang ringing through the air as the flat side of the metal blade collided with Sabine’s bony cheek. The Dark Rider’s body was thrown to the side, landing face first in the snow, unmoving.

In a matter of seconds Montana had jumped on the others back, slamming the axe into the ground beside them before pressing her full weight down on her shoulder blades. She pulled at the remaining hair on the other’s head, ignoring the ear-ringing screaming and lifting the skull just enough to wrap her legs around a thin neck. Her legs were propping up Sabine’s head while her free hand pinched and pulled at her nose. Pulling out the bottle and opening it with one hand she waited for another scream to leave the Rider’s lips before pressing the bottle against them.

Staying somewhat stable atop of Sabine’s restless form turned out to be more of a challenge than she had anticipated. Her legs tightened around the others neck as the other vampire shifted beneath her, clawing at the ground and moving her legs- 

The realization of what her opponent was trying to do came too late. Sabine was already standing up, albeit hunched over, before the last drop of the potion left the bottle. Claws tore open more of Montana’s pants and the skin on her legs. She was holding onto wefts of hair and bony shoulders for dear life as Sabine trashed from side to side, screaming and roaring like a wild animal. 

In the end her attempts to cling onto her were futile. Even in this form the Dark Rider was still a foot taller than her with the added difficulty of not offering much to hang on to. 

Montana was thrown off, her body flying through the air before hitting the ground once, twice. She gasped, ears ringing and limbs aching as she tried to get back on her feet. ‘Keep going, keep going. You can’t waste time.’ 

Axe. She needed her axe. It wasn’t too far away.

Neither was Sabine. 

With another scream the vampire lunged at her. There wasn’t enough time to move out the way. Both vampires rolled through the snow. The Dark Rider was going for her head, claws pressing her shoulders into the hard ground as fangs tried to get a bite out of her face. 

Dodging the attacks (which was just moving her head from side to side) the girl reached for the knife strapped to her thigh. Once she got a hold of the blade she pulled it out of its pocket before ramming it into the other’s side. With as much pressure as she could she dug it as deep as her strength and position allowed for, twisting it around before removing it and repeating the action below the first stab wound. Sabine cried out in pain, one of her claws leaving Montana’s shoulder and trying to get a hold of the hand that was attacking her. With one of her shoulders freed the former blacksmith apprentice used her chance and flipped them both over. The knife was rammed into the middle of Sabine’s ribcage who in turn fully let go of the smaller girl. 

Even with her unsteady legs Montana managed to get to her axe before the Dark Rider recovered enough to get on their feet. 

Three potions. She had already managed to get three down. Just three more. 

No biggy. Not at all.

She eyed the pair of bottles closest to her before turning back to look at Sabine, scrambling back onto her feet and screaming and screeching at her. Montana changed the grip on her weapon as the feral vampire started running towards her once again, the knife still embedded in the middle of her chest. 

She couldn’t kill her. That would defeat the whole purpose of this, not to mention what Dark Core would do if they found out she had killed one of her Dark Riders.

Dropping to her knees just before the Rider had a chance to get a grip on her she rammed the shorter side of the axe into their shin and immediately pulled it out again. 

It wasn’t deep enough to sever the leg, just a flesh wound to slow the other down (she might be suicidal but not crazy enough that she’d want to experience Florences’ wrath for cutting off her partners limbs). 

Sabine toppled over her, crashing face-first into the snow while screaming in agony. In a matter of seconds Montana dove over to the potions stashed in the snow. Behind her the Dark Rider was already crawling towards her, snow and dirty flying through the air as she did. The last few meters were a half-walk-half-crawl attempt from Sabines side before she once again lunged directly at her face.

One of her hands which had been holding a bottle of supplement came up as a reflex and this time it was Montana's turn to cry out in pain. Fangs pierced through cloth and flesh, digging into muscles and threatening to crush the bones of her forearm.

Reaching for the knife still stuck in the other's chest, which had disappeared almost completely between skin and bones due to her fall, the smaller girl pulled it out before ramming it back into purple skin, aiming for the patch of skin between shoulder and collar bone. She gritted her teeth, twisting the knife around the wound and, finally, her arm was freed. Putting all her energy behind it Montana kicked her leg up and against Sabine’s side, sending her to the ground, right next to the second potion.

Her foot slammed down on the vampire's chest, pushing her flat against the snow before dropping down to her knees. One hand quickly pinched the Riders nose as the other uncapped the bottle, pressing it against her lips. Nails scratched against her legs and torso causing her to let out a pained hiss. 

The empty bottle was thrown away, lost somewhere among the mix of white and red snow, Montana’s hand immediately reaching for the next potion. She just so managed to avoid having her arm chomped on a second time before thrusting the next bottle against Sabine’s lips. ��One more. Just one more’ The thought kept pinging around her head as the second bottle was emptied. She had to hurry, had to get to another stack of potions, fast. Just as soon as she had stood up Sabine had scrambled to go after her. Something pierced her leg again, a scream ,not unlike the ones from Sabine, leaving her lips as teeth and fangs bore into her calf. Without thinking too much about it Montana turned around, grabbing her axe and swinging it at Sabine’s side. The metal pierced through skin and flesh, a scream that almost made her blood freeze ringing through the air. 

This was fine. It would be fine. They had Lisa and Cornelia and Florence. They could patch up Sabine.

Leaving the weapon stuck in the bigger vampire’s side the former blacksmith apprentice made a run for the nearest potion stack, picking up both bottles just in case. One was put into her pocket, the other she kept in her hand.

As she sprinted back to where Sabine was kneeling on the ground her free hand reached for her axe and pulled it out the Ridere’s side. The unopened potion was put between her teeth in order to wrap both hands around the wooden handle. She raised her leg, the sole of her boot colliding with the Rider’s chest as she kicked her opponent flat onto their back.  

Heart racing she swung the weapon down. 

The scream that followed as metal pierce through skin and bones would’ve sent birds flying if there were any. Sabine was struggling against the blade, screeching as the more she moved the deeper the metal cut into her shoulder. It had cut through flesh and bone, going straight through her shoulder and into the snow-covered ground.

Sabine was effectively pinned down. 

Montana’s hands shook slightly as she uncapped the bottle, squatting down beside the raving vampire and pinching her nose. One of her knees dropped to the ground as her other leg pressed against the pierced shoulder. An almost perfect mirror of the position she had used to get the second potion down her throat. As soon as another scream tore through the air the girl pressed the bottle against Sabine’s lips. 

Once the last drop of liquid was gone Montana removed the bottle, standing up on shaky legs and simply letting the glass fall from her hands. Her whole body was trembling. Heart racing. ‘This was enough, right?’

The next scream that tore through the air pulled her back to reality. She hurried to pull the axe out of the Rider’s shoulder, the cry cutting through the forest as soon as the metal was removed being more reminiscent of a wounded animal than a human being. 

Which they weren’t. They weren’t human beings, why should they sound like them? 

Panting from exhaustion she started to back away from Sabine, dropping her axe only a couple meters away while her shaking legs carried her a bit further. She watched as Sabine cried and screamed, curling up on her side as the red area around her shoulder grew bigger.

The Dark Rider wasn’t going after her anymore, that meant the supplement must’ve been enough.

Right? 

Only after the axe marked a sort of halfway point between the two vampires did she allow herself to collapse in the snow. The purple seemed to slowly fade from Sabine’s skin.

The freezing winds cutting across the bite wounds on her leg and arm weren’t even half as bad as what she had done to Sabine but god, did they still hurt like a bitch. She was faintly aware of the claw marks scattered across her body, though they were only a dull ache compared to where Sabine’s fangs had nearly crushed her bones.

God, how bad must the Riders shoulder and leg hurt, then?

Somewhere in the back of her brain she could register that the barrier had fallen, at least if the shocked gasps to her left were anything to go by. The area must’ve looked like a battlefield. Both of them were drenched in blood, their own as well as from the other, while at least half of the once fluffy snow that covered the area had turned into pink slush. 

In a matter of seconds Florence and Khaan were by Sabine’s side, trying to calm her down and assessing the damage. The screaming and crying did send a pang of guilt through Montana’s stomach. She had beaten her up pretty bad. 

Then again Sabine had messed up her face. They were basically even now.

Florence was shaking her head as her hands did their best to sooth Sabines crying from. 

“Fuck me, Montana. We’re you trying to fucking kill her?”

“This was kinder. Trust me.” After trying, and failing, to get back onto her feet the former blacksmith let out a pained groan. The leg that had been bitten by Sabine was aching horribly. She felt like passing out. “And for the record, no, I wasn’t trying to kill her. I was trying to stay fucking alive while she went for my head. Multiple times.”

[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

[alinasteelcrest]

I couldn't get any of the notes to fit on the art properly, so instead I'll just share a Wall of Text. God bless.

MAGIC Everybody knows that the infected wandering around are attracted to and feed on magic. That being said, Ydris is still using his. In fact, he's using more than ever before, disguising his power inside of itself with his untruth trickery. It's taking a very noticeable toll on him. He'd stop, but he has others to take care of, and it's better that he suffer rather than them. He's looking for a way to properly suppress magic, but anyone capable of teaching him isn't particularly keen on doing so.

ZEE Zee, like always, has Ydris' back. Her magic isn't as powerful as his, so it's been sitting idle unless he needs a little boost. She's taken charge of hunting for food and fending off threats, and her playful attitude has all but disappeared under the stress.

Unfortunately for the survivors residing at the Circus, Silverglade and the surrounding areas are becoming increasingly hostile. Ydris can feel his magic weakening, and it's starting to attract the infected. There's little point in staying here, anyway; The nearby fauna have grown wary of Zee, and food is getting harder to come by.

After much internal struggle, Ydris decided to pack everything up and move somewhere else. It's easier to protect territory that's smaller than the Circus plot, but... it's hard to let go of the only place on Earth that's managed to feel like home.

Oh well, he's been meaning to locate Pi, anyway. She's always been amenable to exchanging favours, and he desperately needs one.

...

.........

......

MAGIC SUPPRESSION Looks like Ydris is feeling better, and might just be back to his usual tricks. A spell from Pi granted him a way to suppress magic -his own and others'- and that means he can go where he likes with little consequence. And good thing, too, because he's been kicked out of Goldenhills Valley and needs to get moving.

VAMPIRE BLOOD Ydris isn't sure why Florence gave him this, especially after their... altercation, but he's not about to refuse it. The ability to use his magic freely and safely, the way he's used to? Yes, please~

Let's hope this little incident doesn't come back to bite him. ...Literally.

[iskell]

I decided to join the fun :>

[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

[coyote-catcher]

riders of the fallen dawn stuff looks so kewl... i wanna get in on it....

[dark-rider-pr]

Zombie Apocalypse: Sabine Redesign

[highhorsegirl]

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.

[butterfly-headquarters]

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 ��(・ω・*)

[revengehorse]

rofd november prompt month, day 1: music

not very apocalypse themed but i just wanted to draw my babies

@dark-rider-pr

[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?

[corneliafogwell]

After trying THREE times I finally managed to upload the new chapter!!!

This is 5k words long so yeah....

Also TW: kind of gore I think ish??? There's definitely a pretty harsh fight. I hope this is good 😭

@dark-rider-pr

[corneliafogwell]

WOAHHH SHE LOOKS AMAZING!!! Super cool to see someone in the Jarlaheim Community!!!

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

[theegoldenchild]

Chapter Four: Impure Thoughts

Warnings: 18+ | Death | Klansmen | Voyeurism (kind of) | Masturbation | Pillow Humping | Sexual Tension | Religious Control | Religious Abuse | These warnings are lowkey wild

The night draped over the land like a funeral shroud. Every flicker of lantern light and every echo of boot on dirt carried the weight of what was about to come. A hush had fallen over the farm land as the twins left the main house and their men took their assigned positions. Even the crickets had gone quiet.

When the moon rose high enough in the midnight sky it dropped a spotlight down on them and the Klan appeared like filthy roaches scattering everywhere. Flames bobbed through the trees, mounted riders circled the north field brandishing rifles… and a loud unsettling jeer carried across the land like a foul odor.

At the head of Smoke and Stack’s small army the twins stood tall and silent. Smoke’s dark suit glittered under the moon, every inch a promise of control. Stack’s sharper, leaner posture radiated danger like a viper ready to strike. A hush fell as the Klansmen dismounted and marched toward the clearing. Their grins hidden behind sheets covering their cowardly appearance. The wood of their torches carved shadows across their masks. They thought fear would be enough. They thought God was on their side.

They were wrong. And then… the night blew apart.

Smoke stepped forward with calm precision. “I’m not in a good mood tonight and y’all got bout’ five seconds to turn your asses around or I’ll be using your bodies as kindling.” A chant arose behind the Klan, like rot in a grave.

Stack whistled and everyone sprung into action. Ten Klan members hit the dirt before they even raised their rifles. His pistol whispered like a crack of thunder in the air after he pulled the trigger. A torch fell and the man holding it staggered. A shot rang again… a silent echo… and there was no fire. Just a scream cut short.

The intruders fell back, disoriented and bewildered by how this battle was playing out. Members of the Klan tried to rally but the twins moved too fast. Smoke launched forward next and his rifle cracked twice. The sight caught a mounted man in the thigh as he charged. His body sagged, he tumbled. Smoke reloaded without breaking his calm demeanor. He was bored, irritated, and still way too tense.

Stack was in a blur of violence and giggling through it all. His gold cufflinks flicked sparks when he spun the barrel of his revolver. One moment he was drawing his pistol, the next he was holstering it again, two bullets, two Klan men shot down in the head before they realized what had happened. Within minutes the Klan line broke and fear spiked through their ranks. Horses reared. Some ran screaming. Some dropped their weapons and crawled back to the tree line begging for mercy… But mercy didn’t exist on this land tonight.

After an hour of pure chaos the twins and their army looked at the pathetic bodies piled high. Not a single one of them had been touched yet by the invaders. By the time dawn painted the horizon pale pink, the land lay quiet. Smoke and Stack’s men cleaned rifles and checked wounds that didn’t exist. Corpses of the Klan stacked up and enough damage was done to send a silent message to everyone within a 100 mile radius.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Smoke watched the sunrise from the porch as Stack rested his hand on his shoulder.

“Too easy?” Stack murmured.

Smoke nodded, gaze fixed on the horizon. “God don’t always need to smite the wicked… Sometimes he sends two brothers in suits.”

Stack cracked a grin. “Amen to that.”

The twins didn’t get to savor their win for long. They looked across the land and noticed Pastor Samuel with a twisted look on his face as he stormed towards them. Neither twin could tell if the man was happy, angry, or just needed to take a shit.

Straightening up, both men stood tall, dust and death still lingering around them like a crown. Stack cracked his neck with an exaggerated tilt of his head while Smoke kept his hand resting on his pistol. He didn’t draw… he didn’t need to. But the heat of his palm against the grip kept his temper from rising all the way to his mouth.

And yet, the moment he looked at Pastor Samuel, all he could think about was her. The bruises. The way she winced when she tried to walk. The guilt that wasn’t hers. Those knees. Bloody, raw, and bent before scripture. All because of him.

“Hell,” Smoke muttered under his breath, jaw tight. “I don’t even like the way that muthafucka breathes.”

Stack whispered low, just enough for Smoke to hear. “Wanna pop that nigga like a tick.”

The Pastor came closer, shoes crunching over dirt and gravel and hands folded behind his back like a plantation overseer. He looked over the battlefield without saying a word, his eyes lingering on the fallen torches, the rotting pile of dead bodies, the precision and power on display by men he claimed not to trust.

“Didn’t ask you to kill nobody,” he finally said, his tone full of judgment and disgust. “Told you to protect my land. Not bring damnation down on it.”

Stack let out a surprised grunt and raised an eyebrow. “You want us to apologize for winnin’?”

Samuel’s eyes flicked to him, then to Smoke… like if he had the power and courage to kill him, he would. “I want you, your demon twin, and your men on the north field only. That was the deal. You stay off my porch, outta my home, and away from my daughter.”

Stack blinked slowly, then let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Which part got you so twisted up, preacher? That we did your job, or that your daughter looks at us like we ain’t the monsters from Hell everyone thinks we are?”

Smoke didn’t laugh. He didn’t even blink. His stare was sharp enough to peel bark off a tree. “You oughta be careful what you say next,” he told the pastor flatly. “’Cause the only reason your land’s still yours is ‘cause we took care of what you couldn’t. And when it come to Sera… it’s obvious that it ain’t us she need protectin’ from.”

“She needs protectin’ from everything you are,” Samuel snapped, his voice cracking for just a second. “From temptation. From lawlessness. From men who think violence is salvation.”

That made Stack snort loudly. “Nigga, this is Clarksdale, Mississippi. Ain’t no such thing as salvation down here unless you kill for it.”

Smoke took a step closer. Just one. Which was enough to make the preacher stiffen. “You ever make her bleed again,” Smoke hissed in a venomous tone, “and you’ll be lookin’ up at me from the dirt, beggin’ God for mercy I ain’t got.”

Pastor Samuel’s nostrils flared, but he held his tongue. The air between the three of them thickened. You could taste it… sour… humid… full of fury. “North field,” the pastor spat again, like the words were bile on his tongue. “Stay outta my house and stay away from my damn daughter!”

“Wasn’t plannin’ to step foot in your house,” Smoke replied. “And she ain’t yours. That’s a grown woman with a mind of her own.”

“She ain’t yours either,” Pastor Samuel barked. “But I know you was in her room last night. That stench—” he stepped forward now, trying to muster some authority, his voice rising with brittle rage, “—that filth on her skin… you reek of it! Whiskey and sin. I smelled it when I went in to wake her for mornin’ prayer.”

Stack cocked his head, a smile curling his lips. “Boy, you must got a death wish.”

“You think I don’t know what you did?” Pastor Samuel growled. “You touched my daughter, and I swear before the Lord, I will kill you.”

That was the last word out of his mouth before Smoke’s fist cracked across his jaw like a bolt of thunder. The pastor didn’t even have time to grunt. His body whipped sideways, feet skidding in the dirt before he collapsed in a heap near the steps of the porch, blood already trickling from his split lip.

“Then you best make peace with your god tonight,” Smoke snarled, looming over him with fire in his eyes.

Stack, who had been laughing just moments ago, went still. Something behind his eyes shifted into something dark and unhinged. The smile on his face disappeared, replaced by a quiet and eerie stillness. He crouched beside the groaning preacher with his fingers twitching like he was trying to choose which bone to break first.

“I could cut your tongue out,” Stack murmured. “Feed it to you while you pray. Could hang you upside down from that oak tree in your yard and skin your back with a rusty knife. I’d take my time, too. Paint this porch red, inside and out.” Pastor Samuel tried to move, tried to scramble back, but his body wasn’t ready to listen.

Stack leaned in close, his voice now deceivingly sweet and soft. “Or maybe I’ll just wait till you sleep and slit you quiet. Let you meet your God without even a scream.”

Smoke leaned over and spit near Pastor Samuel’s boot. “You a man of God? Start actin’ like one. ’Cause next time we find her cryin’ or bruised, you gon’ be wearin’ that collar in a coffin. And put her furniture back in her bedroom. Today.”

Stack slowly stood to his full height, brushed the dust off his sleeves, and glanced down with a devious smirk. “Ain’t no holy ghost gon’ save you from us.”

With that, the twins turned and headed toward the north field leaving Pastor Samuel on the ground, bloodied and broken, as the weight of their threat lingered heavier than any sermon he’d ever preached. And in the bedroom window above them, hidden behind white lace curtains, Sera watched everything. Her fingers pressed to the glass, a soft ache blooming in her chest that she didn’t have words for yet. A feeling she’d never known before, equal parts fear and curiosity.

Down below, Stack leaned over to his brother as they walked side by side. “Thinkin’ about her again?”

“Shut up.”

Stack grinned. “You think he knows he’s already lost her?”

Smoke’s jaw flexed, hand once again brushing his pistol. “He will.”

A week passed since the night the land bled fire and the Klan ran like dogs in the dark. But you wouldn’t know it now. The sun rose the same. The roosters crowed with no regard for the victory buried in the soil beneath their claws. And the little house once brimming with tension and whispers had gone quiet. Way too quiet.

Sera stood at the kitchen sink with her sleeves rolled to her elbows while she scrubbed the same plate for the third time. The water had gone cold and her fingers pruned, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her mind wandered like it often did now.

The new dresses her father brought home were heavier, stiff with modesty and shaped to completely erase her. High collars, thick cotton, long hems that brushed the floor like she was gliding through a mourning veil. She was to wear them every day. No more yellow. No more blue. No more sundresses that unintentionally cling and make men’s eyes linger longer than they should. When she analyzed herself in the mirror each morning it told her nothing. She was now just a ghost of a girl with her untamed ginger hair lazily pinned up and her new clothing the physical embodiment of hopelessness.

“Girl, why you standing there daydreaming?” her father’s voice barked from the hallway.

Sera blinked herself out of her daze. “I’m washing, Daddy.”

“Well, wash faster. Ain’t no point in staring at soap suds like they gon’ save you.” His voice trailed off as he went back to his study. Since the explosion with the twins he’s been spending more time in his study and less time unnecessarily punishing Sera.

The lack of ‘unnecessary’ punishments didn’t mean Samuel wasn’t able to find other ways to keep his daughter obedient. After being embarrassed by the twins, he gave Sera a strict schedule and a new set of rules to follow:

Monday through Saturday:

5:00 AM - 9:00 AM Prayer

10:00 AM - 1:00 PM Chores

2:00 PM - 3:00 PM Cooking

4:00 PM - 6:00 PM Chores

7:00 PM - 8:00 PM Bible Study

8:00 PM - 5:00 AM Sleep

Sunday:

5:00 AM - 7:00 AM Prayer

8:00 AM - 2:00 PM Church

3:00 PM - 4:00 PM Cooking

5:00 PM - 7:00 PM Chores

8:00 PM - 5:00 AM Sleep

She was no longer allowed to run errands or explore the town alone. And worst of all she was FORBIDDEN from stepping foot near the north field.

The land still buzzed with the ghosts of gunpowder and footfall. Being men of their word, Smoke and Stack kept to their side with their men patrolling like entities that belonged to a different world entirely. One Sera wasn’t allowed to touch. She only saw them from the window now if she parted the curtain just enough. They moved like kings with no crowns, suits still crisp even in the heat, laughter low and sharp like polished knives.

Stack often glanced at the house and sometimes he would wave. The first time he did it she ducked and stayed behind the curtain for a full hour after. She wasn’t sure if he saw her. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to. The second time he did it she nervously waved back and then immediately closed her curtains to pray.

Smoke never looked. Not that she noticed. But somehow she felt him… the weight of his eyes, even when they weren’t directly pointed at her. It made her heart flutter with something she didn’t have a name for yet.

Sera sat quietly in her room with the Bible on her lap. After finding peace on his land now that the Klan was dealt with, Pastor Samuel thought she ‘deserved’ to have her furniture returned to her. The candle on her bedside table had burned low, the wax forming tiny lakes against the holder. Her knees still ached from last week. The blisters were gone, but the skin felt new and thin.

The first night after the battle, Sera stayed awake until her body gave out. But the nights that followed brought something worse than exhaustion; it brought a burning need. A slow, creeping feeling coiled low in her belly and refused to fade away. It started when the house fell quiet. When no one called her name. That’s when she felt it the most… The phantom touch of Smoke’s hands, the rough drag of his thumb against her thigh, the careful hold of her knee, the way he said ‘my love’ like it meant something. Those memories were burned into her skin, rewinding again and again until she could barely breathe beneath the weight of them.

By the fifth night, the subtle ache bloomed into a throb and she couldn’t take it anymore.

After finishing her required Bible study for the night, she locked her bedroom door and her heart was racing before she even slid beneath the covers. Her cotton nightgown clung to her thighs already sticky with heat. She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered a prayer for forgiveness, but even as her lips moved, her hand was already drifting under the blanket. Trembling and curious.

What would it feel like… If I touched where it hurts? If I pressed where he looked at me… like he wanted to taste my sins?

Her hand slipped slowly underneath her nightgown, grazing over the soft curve of her hip and down the inside of her thigh. She gasped softly when her fingers brushed damp cotton. She was completely soaked. Her legs fell open without thinking. Her fingers slid along her untouched cotton covered cooze, and she bit back a moan— but then she paused when she heard footsteps outside her door.

Cutting her eyes to her bedroom door, she heard them again… slower… heavier… calculated. Not her father. Not a stranger. A step she’d only heard once before, echoing through the hallway the night Smoke found her wrapped in nothing but a towel.

She didn’t need proof to know it was Smoke. During the short time he carried her she had already memorized his walk. She knew the rhythm of his boots, the weight of him, and the gravity he carried when he walked. His presence was pressing through the door, thick as heat, wrapped around her like lust curling beneath the sheets. Her thighs twitched. Her fingers still hovered beneath her gown. The damp cotton clinging tight to her center.

Still, neither of them said anything. And then a single word that was oozing with dominance could be heard through the oak wood. “Continue.”

Her breath shattered and a whimper escaped before she could stop it. Her legs squeezed together and her hips shifted against the mattress with a friction that made her mouth fall open.

He knew. He knew what she was doing. What she was thinking. How badly she wanted relief. No, how badly she needed relief. His voice wasn’t a suggestion and left no room for disobedience. But she was okay with willingly listening to him. Smoke and Stack could tell Sera to jump and she would ask ‘how high?’. In the short amount of time she’s known the twins they’ve proven their devotion to protecting her… Protecting her in a way her father never cared to do.

Her hand moved without conscious thought, slipping beneath her panties as her fingers trembled and grazed her slick heat in an amateurish manner. She gasped, a little louder this time and her knees bent, opening slightly beneath the covers. The sensation in her belly spread fast, hot, wicked, and beautifully.

Although her body seemed to know what to do and how to do it, the battle in her mind was stopping Sera from fully grasping how to get to the point of no return. And it was as if Smoke knew her dilemma.

His voice pierced through the wood of the bedroom door again like thunder before rain, “Don’t be scared. Keep goin’.”

She didn’t answer. Her hand gripped the edge of the blanket and more silence followed. Then… “Find your button… love… circle your finger around it.”

He said it… he said that nickname she had been dying to hear again. Her throat closed around a breath and she blinked into the dark with her face red hot as she tried to follow the instructions given to her. Guiding her inexperienced fingers up and down her slit, she rolled them to the left and to the right. She searched until she felt a bump of flesh that caused her eyes to roll to the back of her head.

Her fingers kept moving on that spot. Faster now, more deliberate. He wasn’t coming in. He wasn’t touching her. He was just standing outside her door, but the thought of him listening to her made the pulsing of her honey pot intensify.

Speaking to her like a devil on her shoulder, his voice soaked in the kind of heat that didn’t belong in a preacher’s house. “Don’t stop,” he drawled, the way he spoke made her body gush.

She whimpered again, hips lifting just a little, chasing the friction her fingers gave. Her breath was unsteady with her curls sticking to her damp temples. Her other hand fisted in the sheets and tugged hard as the sensation swelled in her core. Her whole body felt like it was on cloud nine, chest burning, thighs trembling, and toes curling beneath the blanket. She didn’t know what was happening but she wanted more.

The pleasure mounted fast… a little too fast. Her fingers quickened their pace as they moved in a counterclockwise motion over her swollen clit. A sweet pressure swirled in her belly, like a string was being pulled from deep inside her. Her mouth opened in a breathless moan she couldn’t hold back.

“Let go for me, my love…” Smoke demanded through the closed door. It was as if he could feel the moment rising inside her. And Sera was too wrapped up in herself to notice how breathless his voice was starting to sound.

But she couldn’t finish. Just as she reached the edge, her stomach clenched, and her body bucked but not from release. From panic.

The wave of pleasure inside of her built too fast and just before it broke, she ripped her hand away with a startled gasp, thighs snapping shut, and her heart pounding so hard she thought it might crack her ribs.

“I can’t…” she breathed, barely louder than a whisper. Her body was humming with excitement. Her fingers were drenched and her thighs angrily trembled with denial. And when the shadow on the other side of the door disappeared without another word, she stared at it for a long time.

The screen door groaned behind him as he stepped into the open night. The night air felt colder than usual but it couldn’t burn away the heat rising under his skin. Her voice still clung to him—soft, trembling. “I can’t…”

She had no idea what she’d done to him. No idea that just the sound of her shifting in bed, the catch of her breath, the tension in her voice when she whispered into the dark had officially ruined him. He hadn’t seen a damn thing. But his mind? It painted the rest clear as day.

That cotton nightgown bunched up high on her hips. Her thighs parted, hesitant. Her fingers unsure, slick with curiosity. The blanket rustling with each slow motion of her hand. Her lips parted around silent gasps and maybe biting the bottom one to keep them in. And then that voice… So desperate and honest. “I can’t…”

Goddamn he was in deep. Smoke dragged a hand down his face with his jaw tight, as he cut through the trees and followed the well-worn path back to the north field. Crickets sang around him in a mocking tone. Wind bent through the linen of his suit. And the moon spilled silver across the dirt, but none of it cooled the blaze inside him.

By the time he stepped into the barn, his coat was unbuttoned and his breath still hadn’t evened out.

Stack was sitting on a crate with his shirt off and bare feet propped up while puffing on a cigarette like he had all the time in the world. He lifted his chin when he saw Smoke.

“Where you been?” His voice was casual but his twin could hear there was something sharp beneath it. “Ain’t like you to disappear mid-shift.”

Smoke didn’t stop walking. “Checkin’ the east perimeter.”

Stack arched an eyebrow. “Mhm. That right?”

Smoke didn’t answer. Just moved past him, straight toward the back of the barn.

“Sure took your time,” Stack called after him, grinning around the cigarette. “You paid our girl a visit?”

Smoke’s back tensed for a millisecond but he kept walking. “Get some sleep,” he grumbled, brushing past the curtain and slamming the door to the private quarters shut behind him.

The second it latched, he leaned against it and finally let out the breath he’d been holding since he left her door. His hands ranked frantically through his hair. He was hard as a rock and wound so tight it hurt. All of this and he didn’t even get to see Sera explore herself, only listen.

He envisioned everything in his mind… the way her thighs might’ve trembled as her fingers slipped lower, the way her back probably arched when she got close. The way she might’ve whispered his name if she’d only had the nerve. He could hear it. Mr. Smoke.

Without wasting another second, Smoke began stripping himself of his clothes like a rabid animal. He couldn’t suppress his desires anymore and he let out a dissatisfied growl when he spit on his hand before gripping his throbbing manhood. Sitting on the edge of his bed he desperately dragged his fist up and down his girthy 9 inch rod. Paying ample attention to his sensitive head that was leaking precum and the vein that ran down the curve of his meat. He needed more and jerking off felt like self inflicted punishment opposed to relief.

He paused his movements and quickly scanned his room for an extra pillow he remembered he tossed earlier that morning. Noticing the pillow in a nearby corner, he grabbed it and made his way back to his bed.

“This is so fuckin’ stupid,” he murmured, throwing the pillow onto the bed and climbing after it, his body already thrumming with pressure. “A grown man… losin’ his mind over a girl who kneecaps he only touched.” After folding the pillow in half, Smoke climbed on top of it and slid his dick through the makeshift opening. It wasn’t Sera, but this would have to do for tonight.

Closing his eyes, Smoke began to rock his hips in a steady motion as he imagined what Sera would look like being stretched to the max. With one hand braced on the mattress and the over on the pillow he imagined how soft and warm her insides must feel and the noises she would make while in ecstasy.

“You feel so good baby… I’ll teach you how to take all of me… My perfect angel…” He mumbled in a needy and hushed tone while losing himself to his fantasy.

Finally he could feel himself getting closer to his peak and he increased his pace as he started drilling into the pillow. He wanted to be discreet in case any wandering souls passed by his room, but right now he didn’t care. His bed squeaked louder and fantasy images of Sera climaxing over and over his dick finally pushed him over the edge.

“I’d be so good to you,” he choked out, groaning low in his throat. “Wouldn’t hurt you. Wouldn’t rush. Just let you feel it all… Stretch you out real good…”

He pushed harder into the pillow, every drag of friction a poor imitation of what he really wanted. Her. Bent beneath him, learning everything from him. Crying out as he brought her to the brink again. And again. And again…

“You think your daddy taught you what obedience is?” he rasped. “I’d teach you with my mouth ‘tween your legs everyday until pleasure is all you know.”

His body jerked, pleasure ripping through him as he imagined her saying his real name through a moan—her fingers digging into his skin and her eyes glazed from a high only he could give her. Smoke groaned through gritted teeth as his hot seed poured out of him and coated the fabric of the pillow. “Fuck…”

Rolling over on his back, his skin glistened with sweat and he threw an arm over his head while steadying his breaths. His hunger wasn’t satisfied, if anything this just made it worse as the blood wasted no time rushing back to his dick and bobbed with need.

“This ain’t enough,” he muttered to himself before grabbing the soiled pillow for round two. “Won’t ever be enough.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

Nobody:

Sera and Smoke:

Meanwhile Stack:

He will get to bust a nut soon I pinky promise!

Tag list: (If I forgot to add you please remind me and blame everything on my dyslexia.)

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