[HowlingHooves]

Username: Tynahi
Show Name: Embers of the Past
Barn Name: Cináed
Gender: Sterile Mare
Height: 19.2 hh

Sire: Magic Clay
Dam: Dancing Fire

Phenotype: Smokey Cream Grullo Splash
Genotype: Ee | aa | CrCr | Dd | Splspl
Eye Color: Tyranny of Flames
Breeding Notes:
• All Golems are sterile! They can produce no offspring.

Seven lumps of magic clay, dancing flames on which they lay.
Shamans magic infused by night, the witching hour called under blight.
Fading earth and folk of bone, cries that lifted to an ignored throne.
Life arose with power and might, summoned forth to cease the blight...

The Fire Golem was summoned to lay waste to the blight, to smother it with flames and smoke no matter the cost. The Shaman who summoned him was a firm believer that to purge the blight from the lands, they must light it aflame so they can build anew after the smoke has cleared.

To win the Fire Golem’s favor, you must do the following;
• Name her appropriately.
• Write or draw about her first summoning by her shaman many years ••ago. Minimum of 150 words if written.
• One optional piece of work is permitted; any medium.

The Fire Golem will not grant favor to those who own more than 60 drafts!
Only members who own 60 or less drafts may enter.
These drafts may not be bred! They were not born, they were created from clay and fire by Shaman centuries ago, and have since wandered their summoning grounds since the summoners tethered them to the earth.
The era of this theme is more akin to the Stone Age through the Iron Age! This means metals were just being used, agriculture was recently birthed, hunting was a way of life for the people, etc etc. Keep to this theme, please!

[sillies]

Username:

antique skies
Show Name:

Golem of Fire
Barn Name:

Scourge
First Summons:

The wind blew harshly, send a chill down the old woman's spine. Her ragged clothes showed her status in wealth: not much. But her luck has finally changed. She had discovered an ancient spell that could summon up a being so powerful it would change her life forever. She would offer it to the royal family as a gift; surely, they would award her for mastering ancient magic. And perhaps they would award her for finding a creature strong enough to destroy the blight that plagued their land.

"Ingredients: seven lumps of magic clay, the darkest hair of a horse's mane, the blue flames of an ancient cave, and the eye of the giant Balor."

The old woman grinned. Soon, fortune would be hers.

Setting out, she gathered ingredients on a perilous and incredible journey, risking her life for each one, the only thing keeping her alive was the greed that slowly but surely clouded her judgement. For 3 months the old woman ventured, gathering everything she needed, and at long last, with a final blow, she downed the giant and rubbed her filthy hands together, tearing out Balor's eye, cackling as she made her way home.

"Take the ingredients to Stonehenge. Guard them with your life."

The woman made her way to Stonehenge. Many could sense the ancient magic that was now forming within her. So many tried to take it and the ingredients from her. But she made it to Stonehenge alive. Mostly. The injuries she received were severe.

"Place the ingredients in the center of Stonehenge. If you fail to chant the following by dawn, you will either lose your life to the Golem, and the summoning will fail, or you will lose your ingredients and the magic that his built up within you.

Sombottom bah don victor hae!
Show me the way!

Yettsen grettle amavi may!
show me the way!

Plight the blight and bring back day!
With hooves of ash and eyes of flame!

Fire Golem I summon thee! Bring back our land and set it free!"

Looking around, the woman fretted. It was already nearly dawn. First, she placed the flame. On top of it, the clay. Laying down the single hair, on top of the clay, then from their, the eye. On the ground beneath the ingredients, runes appeared. The old woman grinned greedily. Soon, a life of wealth would be hers.

Summoning the magic within her, she began to chant the incantation, stretching her arms out to the ingredients on the ground. The flame shone brighter than anyone had ever seen, and she had to look away. Looking off in the distance, she could see the sun started to peak over the horizon.

She chanted the spell faster, throwing her magic onto the flames and other ingredients. When the chant was done, she collapsed to her knees, weakened from the ancient magic. A loud boom erupted from the flames, and before her eyes, the flames, clay, strand of hair, and eye of the Giant Bolar rose off the ground. The clay formed into the shape of a horse, the hair burned and changed its color, the eye split into two, and made their way to the face, and from their, the flame entered every part of the body it could.

In a bright light, a horse whinnied, rearing before the old woman. She looked up at what she had summoned and grinned wildly. The mare was gorgeous. She stood and attempted to place her hand on her nose. The golem stared her down, and when it's front hooves hit the ground for the first time, it sent the old woman flying back.

The golem spoke.

"Greed has clouded your judgement and filled your heart. You are not worthy to be my master! I will still help this world, but you will not be at my side!" she said, her eyes glowing a notorious red. Before the old woman could speak, she died out of fear of the creature she had summoned. The golem simply huffed and galloped away, the sun now rising over the horizon.

The blight was brought to an end, and the Golem wandered, searching for her true master.

- End.

[violynnights]

Withdrawing due to lack of time. She is so pretty though!! Good luck all!

[tynahi]

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Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯
Fire and Ice by Robert Frost

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{Username} Tynahi {Show Name} Embers of the Past {Call Name} Cináed {Meaning} "Born of fire" in Gaelic
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The fire crackled quietly from the center of the small cave warming the space and casting a soft glow.
The night was still. The usual bustle of life silenced by the blight. It had come on suddenly and fiercely
letting all suffer in its grasp. Morcant opened his charcoal eyes and stared into the flames. It was the
crops that had given out first, he recalled. Not quite as hardy as their wild cousins the blight raged through
them. By the time it had come to harvest most of the crops were dead or dying; few were healthy enough
to provide for the tribe. The surrounding vegetation suffered too. Plants the tribe had usually been able
to rely on when out gathering came up short. Those that were still healthy were being overgrazed as the
local wildlife also tried to find reliable sources of food. Soon the deer herds and other prey animals started
to move on looking for better food sources. Hunting groups came back with increasingly less meat. Normally
cautious predators became daring in their search for food, bringing them closer to the settlements. It had
been a long time since the tribe had to complete so heavily with the wildlife. As long as Morcant could
remember resources had been plenty even in their harshest winters.

Morcant was still a young man. To some, he could be considered to have barely left boyhood. Gangly with
a thick stock of tawny hair he hadn’t quite outgrown his boyish looks. Faelan, the tribe’s shaman, however,
had taken an interest in him. He had promise. Was destined to be the next in line. Though he enjoyed his
training, Morcant had his doubts. He wasn’t sure he would be the right fit for the role as the shaman. He
didn’t feel like he knew what to do. Whenever he would bring up his concerns Faelan would merely chuckle.
“No one holds all of the answers. Our job is to find them and use what we know to help guide others.
Breathe. Keep your mind open. The Gods will guide you and so will I.”

Sighing he sat back on his heels. How he wished for Faelan’s guidance now. Having become ill shortly after
the start of the blight the responsibilities had fallen to Morcant. Faelan succumbed to his illness shortly
after. Chewing on his lip Morcant glanced at the clay neatly stacked next to him. He hoped he was doing
the right thing.

Earlier he has met with two of his closest friends. Caiside and Drustan were brothers from the neighboring
tribe. All three were adventurous and a not phased by the idea of boundaries. As such, they met upon
chance wandering the lands between the two tribes as children and became fast friends. Though they don’t
recall who exactly it was that crossed the border, Morcant still claims it was the brothers doing. When they
met they too said their tribe was suffering from the blight. None of their tactics to rid it was working.

“We could make Golems.” Morcant had suggested. “Ask the Gods to send us help.” He had suggested it
confidently, though he felt no such thing. Caiside gave him a quizzical look pushing his curling blonde out
of his face. Drustan’s blue eyes looked unsure.

“Would it work?” he asked hesitantly to which there was no answer. None of them knew.

“Its better than nothing.” Morcant persisted. “If nothing happens we try something else.” What more did
they have to lose? Morcant wasn’t exactly pleased with this idea, but he felt he had to try something. “I
think a fire Golem would work. Destroy the blight and then let the land regrow”

“Fire?” Caiside looked incredulous he moss-colored eyes concerned. “Wouldn’t that be dangerous? Fire is
uncontrollable. What about your homes? The fire will endanger them. I think we should go with ice. The
frost can kill it. Its safer than fire.”

“That’ll take too long.” Morcant countered. Ice may be safer in the short term but it had a lasting effect.
Drustan didn’t like either idea and pointed out the flaws of both. After a short debate, the three decided
to try their own methods. As there was no guarantee any of it will work, there was no harm in each trying
their own way.

Rubbing his hands together he stood up and went to the clay. It was time. He carved and molded the clay as
best he could, giving it a strong form. Proud head, arching neck, powerful shoulders and sturdy legs.
Gathering his courage he set the clay in the flames. His words were less of a chant and more of a pleaded
prayer. He hoped beyond hope that this would work. People were counting on him.

The flames leaped suddenly and flared brightly. Startled Morcant pulled back and closed his eyes. Upon
opening them he noticed the cave had gone dark. The fire was nothing but smoldering embers and from them
came a ghostly pale horse. “It worked…?” he breathed as he scrambled to his feet. The mare was a ghastly
cream color. Her eyes glowed like flames and where she stepped embers would form. As their eyes met Morcant
couldn’t help but feel as if the mare was judging him. “Please… we need help.” He studied her then out
past the entrance of the cave towards his home.

A warm breath tickled his cheek as the mare’s muzzle gently brushed his shoulder. It was a comforting and warm
gesture akin to how he felt in the light of a small campfire. But the moment merely lasted a second before the
mare turned heel and sped out of the cave. Morcant watched in wonder as sparks flew from her trail as her
hooves connected to stone setting the landscape ablaze.

It was beautiful, but it was a deadly beauty. The fire’s rage matched that of the blight. It burned hot, fast and
unforgivingly. As Caiside had warned it was wild and uncontrolled. Smoke plumed into the sky and blocked out
the stars. The tribe scrambled to save what they could from the flames and Morcant prayed he had made the
right decision. Eventually, the fire died down, having run out of fuel to keep going. The landscape was charred.
The ground black with soot and ash. Smoke still in the air causing the light to seem orange. And yet there were
pockets of blue skies.

The tribe had made it out of the fire intact. No one had been injured, though a few houses had been lost. The
blight was gone, but the land seemed barren. And yet out in what was once one of the tribes pastured was a
cream mare hidden in swirls of smoke. Her presence was calm and the tribe wondered at her red markings.
Morcant watched as she pawed the earth revealing tufts of grass under the ash already regrowing. It was time to
rebuild. He approached the mare slowly and gently patted her on the neck. “Thank you.” He murmured and felt
the warmth of the mare under his hand. “You were born of fire, but this is your home now if you wish it.” The
mare snorted softly and tossed her head almost playfully. Other from the tribe started to approach and marveled
at her. One question kept reoccurring: “Whats her name?”

“Cináed. I call her Cináed” ......................................................................................................... {Caiside's Story}

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[Ardelis]

Username: Ardelis
Show Name: Catharsis Harbinger
Barn Name: Renata {{Meaning- Born Again}}
First Summons:
The air had become still, as though the earth had taken it’s last breath. Silence hung heavy and ominus, fear and uncertainty prevalent in the ancient woman’s mind. Her opalescent eyes searched across the barren field. Though she did not have much of her vision left she knew full well the crops were not growing and a dry brush covered where much needed food was supposed to be flourishing. Her frown was lost in the folds covering her face.
“What cruel fates did we anger?” her voice barely audible.
Something needed to be done, the old shaman feared her last option. Slowly the crone made her way to the last flowing creek trickling up from the underground river. Dust clouded around her feet as she walked the well traveled path. In the archaic woman’s mind, this was the last hope. An almost long forgotten spell brought forth by desperation and hope…
The clay was barely damp in her hands. The small creek barely had any water flowing from the nourishing depths below. Knowing she had barely any strength, the wise woman had built the best fire she could scrounge from the brush around her, and began to mold her small clay prize. After placing a root from the ruined crop in the clay mare’s mane, the shaman tossed the equine shaped clay in the crackling embers.
Suddenly, the fire became as still as the air around it. The ground shook and the shaman fell to the ground. A flash of light, eerie blackness, then the world seemed set aflame. A white hot mare, set blaze, stared straight through the crone. “Please help,” the crone whispered as the mare almost seemed to laugh. It almost looked as though the flaming mare flied through the air, spreading a most intense fire as she went. What had she done? All she could to was pray the mare would help.

[HowlingHooves]

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{Username} Tynahi {Show Name} Embers of the Past {Call Name} Cináed {Meaning} "Born of fire" in Gaelic
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Congrats ty!