Fire and earth: a powerful combination that forges lands and solidifies paths to better futures. Revelin's father knew well the fiery attitudes of the Aodhian people, found it charming in a cute sort of way. He'd travelled as a merchant long enough to enjoy some decadence, even if it was frivolous to an almost disgusting degree. His mother, just as fiery as any Aodhian mare should be, smooth talked her way into his life and his bed with surprising ease. It shook him to his core, and somewhere inside, he loved it. He loved it so much he'd visit again, and again, until he could convince her to run away with him to his own homelands and start anew.

Revelin's mother, filled to the brim with life and passion, found the prospect of leaving her family on a whim exciting and bold. She'd never found the pompous nobles or the peacocking males of her herd to be exciting enough. Sure, they held the same flair for dramatics, but what she needed was a real rugged man. One like those foreigners she'd see in the markets, one who could get her away from her mildly overbearing and far too loving family and lead her to adventure. The taverns ended up providing no luck, until one day, the stallion of her dreams showed up. Large, muscular, rugged, almost completely soaked with the earth he grew up in. It was in that moment she knew she had to get him in any way she could, family be damned. When the time came after their few flings, when he finally asked her to run away with her, it felt like a dream. An adventure she never knew she needed.

So, they eloped, and they fled Eithne and settled down into a married life near the more esteemed clans of the farmlands. The marriage was a blessing at first: a lovely couple, fire and earth, mixed as hot as lava, working hard to make themselves a new living in the land they now tied themselves to. Both knew the longing of travel and freedom, but both determined to make the land bend to their will. The cold could never get rid of lava's presence; though it may harden and darken over time - much like the marriage of the two - it still remained fertile, fruitful. It still gave even though it may have seemed to die. That's where Revelin comes in. A blessing from the War Lord and the community alike, and a son was born, filled to the brim with his mother's proud fire and his father's steadfast earth. REVELIN. That would be his name, a proud, rebellious sort. It suited him well.

From the start, his father knew Revelin would be trouble. Cream ponies always tended to be a bit more loud and brash in his experience (Rev's mother was a good example), but he'd train it out of him in no time. His mother and her erratic, shameful past, too. They'd grow to be an excellent War-Forged family, tied to the deep roots of Kaia and the even deeper traditions of the clan they grew a part of. Revelin's mother refused to be so stifled at first, but a flame can be stamped out with enough earth, so in time - through the raggedness of farming and the difficulty of parenting outside of Eithne's luxury, Revelin's mother grew tame. She became a better housewife, a better mother, a better, more broken wife. Her husband prided himself in his work to build the perfect Forged family, and Revelin knew his father was one of the many things wrong with those Forged in earth.

Even though the flame was dampened, suffocated, it never fully went out. Flame was smart, tricky, cunning. This particular flame had grown up in a household that idolized nobles and their politics - even so far as practicing their own with other rival families of commoners. Revelin's mother grew quiet, but not silent. Submissive, but not obedient. Just as her own mother had with her father, so, too, Revelin's mother grew to use her own husband for things without an ounce of him catching on. War-Forged may be strong, but they sure are stupid; she was determined to weed that out of her own son. No child of hers would be illiterate, nor would he be a complete barbarian. No, he would have class. He would have pride for his family lineage - on both sides, because, even though the earth may war and the fire may burn, they both, together, created something completely unique. A son of fire and earth would into a son of lava and magma. Sturdy and capable, but stealthy, brilliant, cunning. He'd know how to play everyone into his hooves and bend the universe to his will.

And so he did.

As he grew up, Revelin prided himself in his identity. Not quite masculine, but not completely feminine either. He enjoyed wearing his mother's jewels and what little coats she could afford, and she absolutely adored him for it. His father pissed blood in rage, but he couldn't do much about it in the house where his wife called the shots. Sending Rev to study under one of the clan's strongest only proved to embolden his desire for the non traditional lovers, and forcing Rev to work on the farm only gave him time to go out and see his friend.

His friend. That blasted Selkie, the hippocampus from the family Vagabond. That's how Revelin's father saw them, anyways. So did most of the clan. Outsiders, living on ice so thin they could hardly manage their small farm, despite having lived several generations on it. Yet somehow, they did. Over and over, year after year, they provided for their family and the clan just enough to prove worthy. Revelin loved them like his own - Selkie, his best friend, was the first he came out to. She was the only mare he ever thought fit to marry if he absolutely had to, and she in turn adored him as a beacon of hope in her otherwise bleak world. Together, the two worked as best they could to earn enough time to hang out before sundown, and they grew close enough to drive Revelin's father red with rage.

Revelin's mother always adored them, though not in the best of senses. Selkie reminded her of home, particularly of the servile slave her parents used to help keep things clean and raise her first child. A part of the family, much like a pet or nanny. She had shared many stories with Revelin over his youth, teaching him how grand Aodh was and how wonderful life could be when you had nary a care in the world. She even told him about her parent's slave, how slaves made the world go round and how barbaric it was the Forged had none for themselves, but, ah, that meant more for Eithne! Culling, to her, was as much of an honor as much as it was, to her husband, a necessity. A tragic tale when families were split, yes, but at least they had better lives!

Revelin thought nothing of it, perhaps even envied those culled a bit for nothing more than their immediate trip to the land of milk and honey, until one night, a week before his seventeenth birthday, in a fervor, Selkie called Revelin from his slumber and spoke to him in private.

"They're going to cull us, Revvy. They're going to get rid of us! Ever since mother died it's been only a matter of time." She seemed so panicked, so fearful. "We can't make ends meet, just the two of us. They're going to make my auntie and I slaves because we couldn't harvest enough... I'm going to die!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down, Selkie. Please! They're never going to cull you. You're one of us! Family! A part of the clan!"

"A part of a clan of backstabbers." She spit, "they've been wanting to get rid of us since my grandparents showed up, every one of them."

"Now, just, calm down, Selkie. I'll help you out."

"You will?"

"Yes. I'll help you with this year's harvest. I can use some of our family's seeds... we have plenty. And I'll help you work, too, after my chores. We're not going to let this happen." Even if he was sure it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

In tears, Selkie pressed against him and thanked him repeatedly in the most hushed voice she could muster. Revelin, still full of confidence in his plan, comforted her and began work on formulating a way to get away with it. Once calm and returned back to her home, Revelin returned to his room to find his father waiting for him.

"Were you with that Selkie girl of yours? What were you saying? Why were you out so long?"

"I... I'm sorry, Father. I didn't mean to be so long. It was supposed to be quick, just a nice chat, but things got out of hand-"

His father's scrutinizing gaze narrowed, and Revelin feared for the worst. What his father said next, however, surprised him.

"You know, I may hate that girl's tainted blood, but I'll have to congratulate her on pulling you out of your reluctantly stubborn mother's grasp. Her feminine charm corrupted you, turned you into some kind of flaming faggot, but it's your friend's feminine charm who's pulled you back into reality. Don't know how it works, but mares are like that. One mare sucks you in, the other spits you out just fine. Wish you'd picked any other girl but her, though, and Kaia forbid you had relations with her-"

"What? Oh, no! Eugh," Revelin's disgust almost betrayed him that night, but his quick wit saved him, "I would never do that outside of the Leader's offering. Kaia's watching, you know! Can't disappoint her, or use up any more than I can give. Right? Heheh?"

His father seemed to buy it, and so, in relief, Revelin returned to his room to pretend to sleep and plot out his plans for the next season. Although Selkie's family proved short for this season, he used his quick wit and his mother's aide to give them another chance. With the new year started and his mother in on his plans, Revelin began working both his father's farm by day and Selkie's adoptive aunt's farm by night. Lava, once rolling, can only be stopped by two things. A barrier of greater strength, and the ocean. While the ocean was far enough away to be avoided, his father provided a great earthen barrier of his own right.

The next season went by smoothly, until it didn't. Revelin had been almost caught plenty of times, and worked himself to exhaustion to the point of fainting during the day. It wasn't until halfway through the season that his father caught on to the missing seeds and dirty tools, then went barreling to Revelin demanding excuses. His wife tried to calm him, but she could not. Revelin caught the angry hoof of a traveling merchant that day, and found himself entrapped in his house the next. And the following. And the day after that. When he was let loose, it was with strict watch from both his father and the town. He could neither see Selkie nor get word out to her on what had happened to him. It was as if he had simply vanished, or rather, been turned into a working drone along with his mother who bore a similar nasty hoof print on her side.

Even though half the season had been worked as fervently as possible, it just wasn't enough. With a clan eager to get rid of them and a farmer spreading rumor of thievery, Selkie's family could not be afforded kindness anymore. A week before Revelin's eighteenth birthday, Selkie managed to find him in the night and pull him aside once again.

"I know what your father's done, and I know you meant well, but it was a stupid plan. We should have accepted our fates and gone to Eithne in chains; it would have saved you all this pain."

"My father's the one responsible for my pain, not you. Don't you ever blame yourself again, please. I knew what I was up against. I just wish I had been more careful."

"Well. We're going to be gone very soon, so you won't have to feel anymore pain-"

"Don't say that. I'll speak up for you, so will my mother. You have enough from what little we got done, and with our word, it should let you pass-"

"You don't get it, Revvy! It's too late! We tried and we failed. If i don't see you again after these next few weeks..."

But Revelin would not have it.

Revelin, however, had no say.

When the time came, Selkie and her adoptive aunt were greeted by Raiders. Their cries woke the whole clan up, rousing them to their feet to see the riff raff finally hauled away. Revelin's quick feet kept him out of his Father's teeth just enough to see his best friend dragged out in chains and a bit that looked absolutely atrocious. Her pleas to him drove him to madness; he challenged one of the Raiders, arguing first with words, then with fists. He was met with a deft blow to the face, one that left his pupils uneven due to the trauma. His mother was his saving grace, standing guard over him while talking hurried words of apologies to avoid the soldier's wrath. His father stepped over the two and stood beside the Raiders, a saddle pack strapped to his withers.

The farmer-turned-traveling merchant once more glared at his only son with his watery blue eyes while speaking to the more roughed up Raider, "I am honored you'd enlist me for this duty to my country, my home, and I will gladly aid you in getting rid of this useless chaff once and for all."

"I'll find you, Selkie!" some of the last words Revelin would ever speak to her, ones that haunt him to this day, "I swear I will! And when I do, I'll free you! Don't give up, Selkie! Please, don't give up hope!"

Fire burns. Earth stands. Lava rolls, boils, and fizzles out within the sea. Selkie was dragged away, and Revelin was left with a rift in his soul and a pit in his stomach. It is unfortunate that his mother tried to comfort him that night. Her words of Eithne's greatness and the better place Selkie was going to did the opposite of comfort. Flame reheats, and so the lava once deadened within his soul raged up, exploding in a volcanic fury of words at one of the three women in his life he loved dearly. Revelin, ever the schemer, took his anger and locked himself in his room, plotting away endless plans to help. But how? How could he help when he was here and farming and she was going... there? 

His mother knew Eithne well, and she'd come to tell him more in the future when he returned to forgive her. For now, though, he'd confide in what few of her stories he could remember as he fled that night, trying his best to remember the way to Skeldr Town while also recalling his mother's words on Aodhian culture. Nobility this, tail flick that. There's so much but so little! In his journey, he ended up collapsing in a mess of emotions, especially those that led him to not watching his feathery feet very well (a skill he'd done his best to craft and had mastered from foalhood until now) just outside town. It was the last straw that broke this mule's back, leading to him braying in sorrow and anger (what an unholy sound indeed!). One of (if not the only) the "locals" of the area, an old stallion by the name of Hemlock, found him in his misery and caught on to his bloody, beat up face. With a gentle and calm hoof, Hemlock helped Revelin get back up off the ground and began tending his wounds while the younger ranted and raved.

Upon hearing about a culling, especially to a young woman of Selkie's age, Hemlock's demeanor seemed to sour. It didn't twist or turn by much, but Revelin could feel something change. It sparked him to question the older stallion, but he didn't get much out of Lock until the question of his own future came up. What do I do now? It was speculative at first, but soon turned pointed when he looked Hemlock right in the eyes, his own teary, and whimpered. How can I save her when I'm stuck here? How can I even begin to get to her when all we've got is this stupid muddy DIRT! 

Despite the disapproval from the outlash, Hemlock had gathered a bit of Revelin's story from his hurried and emotional rambling and made sense of as much of it as he could. Though his own bias remained veiled beneath his commentary, the older stallion reminded Revelin just who he was. You said Aodhian fire was in your blood, just as much as our earth flows through you. Your father returned to his life of trading just to take your friend to Eithne, and your mother told you stories of her home life. You know, merchants who travel can go many places. You might even be able to get yourself a permit to go to the land your friend was taken... if you can get War Lord Hira to approve. Maybe you should try out the guilds; some of them work with merchants, perhaps they could use someone new to help their cause.

It was all he could do to keep Revelin from barreling up the War Lord's Road all the way to Hira herself. 

The guilds. His father had mentioned them back when he was younger, all his thoughts and opinions on things that Revelin generally shoved to the back of his head and ignored. He should have thought of them sooner! But there was no use in mourning over the past; it was done, and so now he must flow forward, take it upon himself to work while he could and learn anything his mother didn't share. The guilds proved an excellent starting point for his life, and at his spry age of 18, he worked under a Hunter guild member to learn the craft. It took him time, but by his twenty-first birthday, Revelin considered his time spent in the guild enough and struck out on his own as a traveling merchant.


Of course, not without getting what proper papers he needed, and not without first making it his goal to spend time learning the land of Onea first. Even if he BURNED to get to Eithne and find Selkie, he needed first to know the land he was to work. To know the ropes, know the strings to pull, words to say. The guild only taught him so much, he had to put everything he knew to good use! Which led him to working on the field for several more years until finally, one day, he managed to land a permit to sell within Eithne.

The land was decadent and just as hedonistic as his mother had painted it to be. Filled with dazzling colors, vibrant streets, even louder and happier people. On the surface, the very breath of Aodhian culture captured Revelin' by his chin hairs and held him captive. How come he couldn't have been born here? Among the extravagance, the wealth? He was MADE for this place! The in and out trends, the cut throat politics his mother had trained him to understand. God, everything called to him, and it took every fiber in his whole being to avoid letting himself get swept up and swindled amongst the lives of the glamor. 

One thing that kept him from getting swept up, if nothing else, were the slaves. Some of them were hard to tell as slaves, at least until he saw and learned more about the bitted bridles. Yes, those were much more fancy versions of what Selkie had been taken in. The slaves themselves seemed in on an act of sorts, happy and pretending to be, or silent and out of the sight. Most of Eithne seemed to ignore their existence, like they were the cobblestone in the floor or the bricks in the walls. He took note of how startled some of them were when he locked eyes with them or regarded them when he bumped into them just to test their resolve. This would be dangerous indeed. They're so ingrained into the community that, even if he were to find Selkie, he would have to fight another hurdle just to get her out. No, perhaps he could get her out easy... if she were on the market. If she weren't? Well. He could find a way to fix that.

With a new plan formulating in his head, Revelin left Eithne and faced the cold terrains of Onea with a smile. More time would need to pass for his plan to work, but maybe, just maybe, if he could manage it, it might be easier to get Selkie back than he thought.